#in case anyone was wondering how ch 4 of The Quiet Act is going

[sparrow-in-the-field]

sometimes writing smut is writing one sentence and then staring off at nothing for like ten minutes before you can write another sentence.

[queerfanfiction]

Topic of Study (Ch. 4)

Thank you all for being so, so, so patient as I worked on updating this story. :)

Larissa Weems x PhDstudent!Reader

AO3 link

The previous week’s assault was still on your mind. You were kind of confused that queer or queer-allied punk people would be so narrow minded and aggressive towards outcasts. Surely they could empathize with people not understanding their identity or how narratives are used against marginalized groups.

Regardless, you could usually read people better than that. Then again, you didn’t really know the people Imogen brought with her. Hell, you barely knew Imogen if you could be honest with yourself. She had reached out via text a few times, but you couldn’t give it your full attention at the moment. Curse your high sex drive making you reckless when it came to who you sought company with.

Your mind wanders to Larissa and the last conversation you two had. She was certainly firm and more reserved. Her desire for you pushed down and masked. It’s one of the reasons you felt so compelled to see Imogen; you wanted your own desire quenched. The older woman was too magnetic.

You can’t help but anticipate your next interaction with the principal. Mrs. Cunningham had sent you an itinerary for the first week. Apparently there were a lot of speaking engagements scheduled for the first normie graduate student to study at the academy. After the chaos of the previous year, good publicity was a necessity. Because of this, much of your time was spent with Larissa. Local news interviews, a public guided tour of new accommodations, a town hall style briefing at the Weathervane, a ribbon cutting ceremony to symbolize a fresh start with the community. You could go on. On one hand, this meant time with the older woman—time you could use to clear the air and reset the energy between you two. On the other hand, the programming barely leaves a quiet moment for the two of you. You wonder if Larissa intended that to be the case to minimize awkwardness.

With the arrival of the new semester, Nevermore students were rapidly arriving, and the faculty were finalizing their lesson plans. The days since coming back from Burlington felt a bit isolated since you didn’t know anyone, and you were nursing a bruised ribcage from the comfort of your living quarters. Now that you’re feeling better, you hoped to get a few things done before students started overtaking the quiet study areas.

Still feeling low effort, you pull on a baggy brown knit sweater and brown high-rise slacks. You were thankful that the monochrome outfit seemed more high effort than it actually was. Wanting to feel comforted, you packed your bag with some books to research while sipping something soothing at the Weathervane.

You opted to walk and absorb the already changing air of Vermont in September. It was still humid out, but it was cool enough to enjoy the stroll. Almost in a trance from the light breeze and gentle woodland sounds, you started to wonder how Larissa would respond to your presence in the coming weeks.

Would she act distant and removed? Would she be stern with you? Would she mention your shared kiss and how heated and passionate it was? Would she acknowledge that you two would have gone much further without the interruption from the car horn?

In what seemed like no time at all, you arrived in Jericho.

Almost at the entrance to the café, you remembered the multiple unanswered texts from Imogen hanging over your head since the assault. Well, no time like the present to confront things you’ve been putting off from a lack of knowing how to proceed.

You step through the threshold to…not Imogen. Phew. The barista working barely looked up at the chime of the entrance jingle. Thankful to have more time to your thoughts, you pick an empty booth to spread out on.

You ordered your coffee and brought out a couple different texts from your bag. One was “Other” as Monster: Deconstructing Bias for Marginalized Outcasts. The other was Foundational Concepts in Shapeshifter Cultures—the book you reached for at the library with Larissa and failed to open until now. You decided to forgo your computer and opt for your notepad instead. You didn’t need more distractions, and you knew any access to recent Nevermore news articles would end up with your eyes on the tall silver-haired woman.

An empty mug, color-coded sticky notes, and a slew of highlighters and pens cover the table in front of you and your two open books. You’ve been told to go through one reference at a time, but it made sense in your brain to work on both at the same time. You felt like it was easier to see how the texts worked together and differently regarding the subjects. You pulled quotes and read for more context between outcast identities and their history. However, you were so disappointed in the shapeshifter cultures anthology. There were hardly any sections on universal shapeshifters; instead, there were a lot of details of metamorphoses in Greek mythology, lycanthropy, and even vampires. You were surprised the book even mentioned East Asian kitsunes since it focused so heavily on Greek, Roman, and Norse histories. According to this account, shapeshifting was often punitive in nature and had connections to mischievousness and deceit.

While reading, you furiously tagged quotes and wrote your own commentary on post-its to mark in the book. Some of your handwriting looked feral, and you hoped you could decipher it later. You were too focused to slow down and write neatly.

Annoyance and righteousness cut through you as you continued through the anthology on shapeshifting. You knew covering so many different histories was difficult, but so much of the positive or holy connotations regarding shapeshifters was missing. Needing to vent, you spam texted your best friend, Komeha’e.

Her own outcast experience was riddled with marginalization from mostly white, normie culture. She would always tell you stories about varying Native American shapeshifter cultures. Most were stories of protection or healing within Native communities. You can hear her cute, know-it-all voice now, “Shapeshifting not only provides benefits for individuals and their communities, but it also deepens the bond between human, nature, and wild animals—an important component of indigenous teachings, beliefs, and spirituality.” Neither of her parents were shapeshifters, so she learned a lot about her identity and its ties to her culture through her grandparents. Komeha’e loved to recount every morsel to you, and you cherished it right back. That’s how you knew the information perpetuated by even the reputable book in front of you was skewed.

You sipped your latte while fully engrossed in your text conversation. Because of this, you weren’t aware of Imogen’s entrance into the Weathervane. Well, that is until she was right in front of you waving a hand in front of your face.

“…h-hey.”

You internally scream that your chance of studying at the Weathervane in solitude is now ruined. “Imogen. Hi.”

The next 45 minutes are spent debriefing on what happened at the club in Burlington. Imogen promised you she didn’t know her friends would do that to you and wanted to make it up to you. You ended up letting her know you needed time to think things over. You’re not sure you can trust her if that is the company she grew up with and continues to keep. Whether you’re an outcast or not frankly had no influence on how you felt. Their behavior was abhorrent. Exhausted from the long and unexpected discussion, you make an excuse to pack up and walk back to Nevermore.

The following morning you met with Mrs. Cunningham to go over the questions Vermont News & Entertainment (VNE) sent over in preparation for your interview. You memorize down to the third question before you two are interrupted by none other than Principal Larissa Weems herself. Her abrupt presence makes your stomach drop and your heart race.

“Ah, Mrs. Cunningham. I assume you’re prepping our new graduate fellow?” Bright smiles get thrown to you both. God, that woman can make someone feel unstoppable. You flash a quick and innocent grin back. Before small talk can continue, Larissa proceeds, “The new academy newspaper, Marginalia, would like an official interview.” Her fingers motion to you and beckon you to follow her. You gather your things and thank Mrs. Cunningham for her time before walking toward Larissa and the door.

“After you.” A shiver shoots down your spine and you feel your mouth go dry when the older woman’s hand rests on your lower back to guide you through the doorframe and halls.

You can barely contain the urge to gaze upon Larissa in confusion and shock. Your mind had conjured up many different scenarios for what the dynamic between you two would be, but this was not one of them. After walking across the quad and through two wings of the academy that you haven’t explored yet, you and Larissa finally reach what you imagine is the room for the school newspaper.

Walking in with confidence, the principal begins, “Yoko, Enid, this is our newest addition to Nevermore.” Larissa turned towards you and finished, “This is Yoko Tanaka and Enid Sinclair. They volunteered to revive Nevermore’s very own student newspaper.”

A sweet and excited figure comes into your personal space, already mid-hug before you can make sense of what is happening. A singsong voice to match rings out, “Oh my gosh, this is so cool. I can’t wait to publish our first issue. It’s going to be so much better than my Nevermore gossip blog. And you’re our first interviewee!”

Over Enid’s shoulder you see a slightly taller figure with blackout glasses and impeccable dark lipstick. She steps forward and peels Enid away from you. The one who must be Yoko mutters, “Let’s get started.”

“I’ll be right over there.” Larissa mentions as she steps away with an amused look on her face. Larissa uses this time with you distracted to collect her thoughts and watch you interact with the two students. She knew her hand placement on your lower back walking here was reckless; the principal normally didn’t act without thinking. However, her hospitality and interest leaned too flirtatious when it came to you. That much was apparent from your very first meeting. Your success at Nevermore would mean redress for the events of the past year—proof that normies and outcasts could get along and even thrive. Tainting that endeavor for the academy and community in Jericho would be inexcusable in her eyes. So, then, Larissa asked herself, why does she continually risk everything to be close to you?

In the interview, Enid and Yoko take the approach of each asking a question back and forth. Kind of like a good cop bad cop thing. You think that anyone who reads it and knows them will be able to tell who asked which questions. For instance, Enid asks about normies from where you grew up to start off the interview. Yoko proceeds to ask why you chose to study at Nevermore specifically. Enid, as if she’s an old friend catching up, wants to know how you’re finding the town and school. She then proceeds to tell you to check out something called Hawte Kewture, but you have no idea what it is.

In between questions, of course your mind wanders to the silver-haired blonde seated nearby. Larissa was friendly—almost as if the last interaction you two had was not a chastening due to making out passionately in the academy’s van/shuttle. Her demeanor caught you off guard, but you’d rather have the opportunity to be close with her than not.

A strange echoing disrupts your thoughts. Uh oh, Yoko and Enid have been waiting for you to respond and are now asking if you’re okay.

“Sorry, I’m still in the process of transferring my ADHD medicine over. What’d you say?” You hoped to not have to explain yourself too much. Otherwise, you’re sure you’d blush a bright red.

Yoko repeats, seemingly unfazed, “Why study outcasts and normies when you’re not as affected by the issue? You know…since you’re a normie.”

“Oh, it’s kind of personal, but I-” A knock on the door interrupts before you can continue to answer. Larissa had sat forward in her chair in anticipation, interested in the answer. Disappointed in the intrusion, she makes a mental note to ask you later.

“Apologies, ladies. We are needed elsewhere. The interview will have to continue another day.” Larissa reassures the two girls in front of you. Well, mostly Enid who looks pitiful.

“Hey, I had a lot of fun. And now I know who to turn to when I have questions about Nevermore. That would really help me out. I’ll see you around, okay?” You try your hardest to sound like a supportive big sister. It seems to work, because Enid beams a toothy smile and nods excitedly. You begin to walk out and don’t catch Larissa’s affectionate gaze due to your efforts. She then leads you outside to the quad where news anchors and cameras are set up and waiting.

The next interview commences. You and Larissa sit together since you’ll both be answering questions about the new fellowship position and its legacy for Nevermore.

After the interview and a lot of social pleasantries, you can tell you’re dehydrated and hungry. You hadn’t eaten that morning, unfortunately. You went straight to Mrs. Cunningham’s briefing without breakfast. As if she could read your mind, Larissa offers for you two to eat in her office before any further engagements. How can you pass that up?

Once in her office, she disappears. You’re not sure where but you can assume it is the same place she went to get the scones and fig spread you two devoured before in the faculty lounge. When she returns, she gestures for you to sit while she gathers plates and drinks. Larissa takes a seat next to you and lets out a long sigh.

“You okay?”

Larissa pours herself a glass of red wine and turns toward you. “What happened the other night?”

Surprised she wanted to discuss what happened between you two, you confess, “Well, a lot of repressed sexual energy got released, and I couldn’t stop myself from finally kissing you, an-”

“No,” Larissa corrects. “What happened that left you stranded and needing to be picked up?” Larissa urges the warmth between her legs at the memory of how heated the two of you became to calm so that she can focus on understanding why it seemed like you were physically assaulted and abandoned.

You take a moment to configure your answer, making sure to not mention that you were desperate for release due to fantasizing about Larissa and texted Imogen to fulfill that need. “I invited Imogen out dancing, and she brought friends along. Her asshole friends thought I was an outcast and didn’t appreciate that possibility.”

“So they hurt you?” Her face was marked with concern and contempt. All you could do was nod. You didn’t particularly want to dwell on it. The older woman in front of you takes a long sip of wine. Apparently still making sense of the threat posed that night, Larissa queries, “Why did they think you were an outcast?”

You omitted why you sought out Imogen in the first place, so you’re not about to explain to Larissa that your mouth was essentially fused to Imogen’s neck while on the dance floor. You hoped this placated the woman beside you, “Uh, they picked me up from Nevermore and had just assumed I was a vampire.”

Sensing that she was not being given the entire truth, Larissa eyed you curiously. Her familiarity with outcasts meant she could understand each give-away for various species. Unfortunately, these precautions were to ensure safety when out around the town. Sirens were instructed to hide their amulets around their necks in their clothes. Gorgons were taught to wear baggier hats so that tight fabric didn’t show the outline of their snakes. Vampires were taught to drink their blood packs out of opaque tumblers and wear special contacts if they were light sensitive. Even sunglasses started to be questioned by townsfolk for those who wore Nevermore uniforms. Larissa never saw you wear sunglasses or carry around any travel mugs. The image of you against Imogen’s neck appeared in her mind and wouldn’t leave. She despised the thought, even though it was the most likely explanation.

At a loss of what to say next, the two of you passed time by eating sandwiches and breaking down the interviews thus far.

“Your answer to Yoko’s final question before being interrupted, what were you going to say?”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, making way for an adequate answer. You didn’t know how much to divulge to the woman in front of you. “My best friend, Kome. I’ve always been a bit justice-oriented—guess that comes with being queer and neurodivergent—but I am fiercely protective of outcasts and what they represent. Kome is the strongest person I know and has been through so much at the hands of normies. Hell, even from other outcasts that have internalized normie narratives.” Your eyes flare, as if you are remembering a specific incident.

Continuing while staring into the fireplace, you add, “When she confided in me about being an outcast, I was so sad that she worried how I would react. She deserves armies of support, and I can’t imagine a better person. Making the world just a little bit safer or more understanding regarding outcasts is the least I can do. As a normie, it’s so fucked that my voice is privileged above others’. Because of this, I will always defend those who are marginalized and uplift their voices instead. That’s why I’m a little wary of all the interviews this week. So far most of the questions focus on who I am, but this isn’t about me. It’s about the issues at hand.”

Larissa didn’t expect to be so moved by your response—the raw vulnerability that you had shared with her. Once again, you were proving to be a conundrum for the principal. Senseless attraction or lust was something that could be managed. The tug in her chest pleading to share secrets, small joys, trauma, and deep desires and goals? That was exactly what Larissa didn’t need to deal with.

No response was given by the older woman next to you, not for many moments. Glossy eyes find yours, and Larissa clears her throat to speak. “I had a brother, you know.”

Of course you didn’t know; Larissa was a pretty private person about family. Sensing she needed assistance to get the rest out, you nudge gently, “You did?”

“A twin brother. He-…” Tears bead against Larissa’s lower eyelids, threatening to spill over and ruin her impeccable foundation and blush. “He’s no longer with us. He passed when I was young.”

You nod slowly, almost gravely at her. Anything to let Larissa know you were here and that whatever she uttered in the space between you would be safe. Safe and tucked away again. Almost involuntarily your hand reaches out to caress hers. You tried to convey everything you were thinking through the simple touch. You didn’t dare speak and break the intimacy between you two in this moment.

A ragged, cathartic sigh resonates out from Larissa after awhile of sitting together, hands embraced. “I’ve only ever told one other person about him. A roommate from when I was a student at Nevermore.”

As if she was suddenly aware of her openness and how near your face was to hers while leaning over to hold her hand, Larissa breaks her hand away and rises to stand against the fireplace. The absence of her hand is replaced by cool air dancing across the skin of your palm.

“We don’t want to be late for the press release in Jericho!”

Without missing a beat, you retort playfully while also standing, “And I’ll be driving, Miss Two Glasses of Wine.”

It seems that getting to know Larissa would be challenging, but you understood the significance of today. You knew it wouldn’t be a race or a sprint. In fact, you were prepared for a marathon. If the best things take time, then so be it.

—

Tagging: @readingtheentrails, @justcallmelittleone, @enchantressb, @jeepingay, @gwendolinechristieiscute. Let me know if you want tagged or untagged. :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!

I see that you’ve been asking people to ask you for fic recs to help post some of the lists you’ve had saved for awhile.

So what’s a list that you’re really proud of but is for something kind of obscure that you don’t think anyone will ask for?

(referencing this post)

Hey Lovely!

AHHH Thank you for asking!

Ahhh, not REALLY??? I do have some lists that have been sitting ready to post for awhile, so I'm gonna give y'all one of those ones!

I know that I've been asked for this one a lot in the recent past, so let's do this one! Enjoy!

HURT / COMFORT Pt 4 - 50K+ Pt. 1

See also:

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 1: Under 5K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 2: 5K to 10K Words

Hurt / Comfort Pt. 3: 10K to 50K Words

Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the "dead?" Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I'd Be Lost Without My Blogger

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Swallow the Night by ArwaMachine (E, 87,873 w., 15 Ch. || TSo3/Stag Night Fix It, TAB/S4 Divergence, Toplock, Mutual Pining, PWP, Drunk / Public Sex, Anal Fingering/Sex, Alcohol-Induced Amnesia, Everyone Knows Except Them, Emotional Love Confession, Demisexual Sherlock, Internalized Homophobia [John], Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Drug Relapse, Infidelity, Texting, Masturbation, Oblivious John, Emotional Love Making, Angst with Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares) – “Do you know how long,” John panted, his cheek scraping against the wall, looking back at Sherlock through half-closed eyes, “I’ve wanted this?” Sherlock pressed himself against John’s back, biting at John’s ear. “Not nearly as long as I have,” he whispered.

Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, H/C, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Heart In The Whole by verityburns (E, 101,650 || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Blindness, Drama & Angst, H/C, First Time) – Events after 'The Great Game' leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own...

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

To Light Another's Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, Sick Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction / Recreational Drug Use, First Time / Kiss, Case Fic) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John's care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Developing Relationship, Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Fallen Series by Belladonna_Q, mamishka (T, 222,094 w. across 3 works || Winglock || Angel!John, Angels & Demons, Faes, Christianity, Changelings) – In a world where myth, mystery, and the supernatural flourish beneath the veneer of modern civilization, Sherlock is a master of magic as well as science and deduction. But there are some things that he cannot see, riddles he cannot unravel, even when they walk right beside him in the form of one John Watson…

[sergeantsporks]

Whatever It Takes

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

TW: Self-harm, attempted suicide, emotional manipulation

“While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.” “Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing?"

Hunter is a difficult prisoner to keep, and Lilith and Eda are about to find that out the hard way.

Ao3

Ch 2/4: Prisoner

Ch 1

Eda perched on a chair, watching her new prisoner. “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Lilith finished tying Hunter to a chair with a roll of her eyes. “If I hit him hard enough, not for a while.”

“Should we… try to wake him up?”

“Titan’s veins, Edalyn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this anxious before.”

“I’ve never kept a coven head tied up in my basement before!” Eda peered at him. “What does he even eat?”

“Nothing. He photosynthesizes. I don’t know, Eda, probably the same thing we eat. He’s a witch, after all.”

“He’s a powerless witch. What if they have human diets?”

“I—this is ridiculous. Keeping prisoners isn’t that scary, I’ll walk you through it.”

Eda squinted at her sister. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget that you were…” she rolled a hand. “A horrible person.”

“Hmph.”

Hunter groaned, and Eda grinned. “Guess you didn’t hit him hard enough.”

Hunter’s eyes shot open, and he glanced around wildly, kicking his feet and straining against his bonds. “Wha—where-?”

His kicking knocked over the chair, and he fell backwards with a crash. “Ow.”

Eda snorted. “Behold, the mighty head of the emperor’s coven.”

“Oh, great. It’s you.”

Eda picked the chair up, flicking Hunter’s head. “YYYYYep. Nice to see you too, nerd.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Ugh—Darius! What happened to him?! Where’d he go?!”

Lilith studied her nails. “He left you high and dry. He didn’t care if we captured or killed you. You know how it is.”

“Is this the part where you try to convince me to, as we say in the coven, pull a Lilith, betray the emperor horribly, and end up sad and lonely?”

“They do not say that!”

“I don’t want you on our side,” Eda interrupted, shooting her sister a “don’t react” look, “I wouldn’t trust you for a second. I want you to tell me what happened to Raine Whispers.”

Hunter leaned back as best he could while tied up, looking bored. “The emperor killed them slowly and painfully. Next question?”

Eda’s heart stuttered dangerously in her chest. “Liar,” she snarled, “Your precious emperor hasn’t appointed a new coven head yet—so Raine’s still alive. Where are they?!”

Hunter clicked his tongue. “Let’s see… coven head prisoner, coven head prisoner, mmmmmm doesn’t ring any bells.”

Lilith put a hand on Eda’s shoulder as she growled. “Oh, Hunter. Your bravado isn’t fooling anyone. You know how the emperor’s coven works as well as I. No one is coming for you. There is no holding out until rescue, because there will be no rescue. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be—who are you even keeping quiet for? An emperor who doesn’t care enough about you to come for you? Just tell us what you know about the bard coven head.”

He rocked back and forth in the chair, looking up at the ceiling, unconcerned. “Or what? You’ll torture me?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want.” She turned to go. “Excuse me. I need to gather a few things.” She strode back up the basement stairs, leaving Eda and Hunter alone.

Eda rocked back and forth on her heels. “So… how’s that portal coming along? Got enough titan’s blood?

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Mmm.” Eda clicked her tongue. What did Lilith need that was taking this long? “Soooooo… what now?”

“This is the first time you’ve taken a prisoner, isn’t it.”

“No!”

“Uh-huh. Alright. While I’ve got you here, want to hear the complete history of wild magic? I’m sure you’ll find it very interesting, considering that you’re old enough to have lived through it.”

“I am not, you little brat. Shut your mouth, I don’t want to listen to your voice.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t want to shut up? What if I feel like singing? Oh titan’s heart, oh titan’s heart,” he started howling in an off-key voice, “we the covens are loyal to thee!”

“UUUUUGH,” Eda groaned, “Stop that, or I’m going to gag you!”

“We pledge our lives, our magics, our hearts to yours! When you call, we heed your voice!”

Eda stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. “That kid is the most annoying creature in existence!” Her sister was lying on the couch, reading a book, and Eda leaned on the back of the couch, looking down at her. “What are you doing? I thought you were getting something?”

“No. I just want him to think I am. Let him sweat and squirm. Let him think about all of the horrible things I might be planning to do to him.”

“Let him freak himself out. Devious, Lili.”

“Oh, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Let him imagine the worst. But now that you’ve come up, too, we can just… leave him.”

“I’m not sure how that—”

“Leave him alone long enough, and he’ll start to wonder if we’re coming back. He’ll start to wonder if we had to leave for some reason, and we left him. He’ll start thinking that if we did have to leave, there’s no one to let him out. That he’s trapped down there. At first he’ll tell himself not to worry, that we’ll come back down for him eventually. Then, as time wears on, and he has no idea how long it’s been, he’ll start calling for help, thinking we’re gone.”

“And that’s when we go down?” Eda interjected, “When he’ll be happy to see us?”

“No, Edalyn. We wait for him to stop calling. We wait for him to give up, thinking that no one will come for him. We let him wallow in the fear that he’ll starve down there, tied up, and then, then we return.”

Eda scooted away from her sister. “… have I ever mentioned how incredibly glad I am that you changed sides?”

“You could stand to mention it more.”

“You’re not gonna… actually torture him, are you?”

“Physically? I wasn’t planning on it, no, why, do you want me to?”

“Titan! Lilith, no!”

Lilith shrugged. “To each their own. He’s probably not feeling too well—a blow to the head is no joke, and neither was that spell he took for Darius. He’ll spill.”

“He seemed fine to me. Just as annoying as ever.”

“It’s an act. Bravado. He’s hurt, he was just flat-out betrayed and abandoned by the person he was protecting, and he’s captured with no hope of rescue, because he knows that’s not how the emperor’s coven works. He’s a resilient pest, but all of that will take its toll quickly. Give him a few hours, and he’ll crack.” Lilith hesitated. “But… Eda… about rescuing Raine, should they still be alive…”

“What?”

“I’m just… not entirely certain it’s the best plan.”

“I can’t just leave them!”

“I know you don’t want to, but… we have the upper hand over Belos at the moment. We have his right hand, a coven leader, in our grasp. We’ve put his day of unity plans to a grinding halt. We go running off on a hare-brained rescue mission? If one of us gets caught, it’s all over.”

A new plan quietly clicked into place in Eda’s head. “We have the coven head. We have the right hand of Belos. Why not make a trade? His precious golden brat for Raine! Either way, we end up with a coven head, so we won’t be giving up our advantage, but this way, we’ll have Raine, who will fight with us, instead of the brat tied up in my basement!”

Lilith sat bolt upright on the couch. “Are you insane?” she hissed, “You want to try to ransom him back?! Edalyn, an attempt to negotiate with the emperor will go very, very badly! Let’s say we achieve the best case scenario, let’s say Belos agrees to the trade and we get Raine back. The emperor will not stop hunting us down. When I was attempting to capture you, it was just that—capture. If you try to make a deal, trade hostages? Belos will want you dead. Even having kidnapped the golden guard is risky—for now, Hunter could be anywhere, no one knows we took him. But if Belos finds out? We may as well start writing our obituaries now.”

“Fine.” Eda growled in frustration. “It’s just—I don’t want to leave them, if they are alive! It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I know. We just have to be patient. And after the Day of Unity passes, we can go after them. I promise I will help you retrieve Raine.”

“Helloooooo?” Hunter’s voice called up from the basement, “Are we gonna get this interrogation going, or what? I’ve got places to be!”

Lilith motioned for Eda to stay quiet. “Here we go,” she whispered.

“Traitor? Crazy owl lady? You there?”

Eda head a scraping noise, as if Hunter was dragging the chair he was tied to across the floor. There was a pause, then, “Titan, there’s stairs. Helloooooo?” Another pause. “Okay, I’m going to escape now! Anyone up there to stop me? No? Okay!”

“Should we go down there?” Eda murmured to Lilith. Her sister shook her head.

“He can’t get out of that chair, you heard him about the stairs.”

“I mean it! I’m breaking out of here! Oh, look, I’ve got the ropes off! No? Nobody?” Then, a little more quietly, “Guess they’re gone.”

Eda heard a lot of thumping, and then an ‘ow.’ She snorted softly. “Sounds like he’s knocked himself over again.”

Lilith pulled her away from the basement door and into the kitchen. “Give him a bit.” She started flipping through one of Eda’s potion books. “Any chance one of these has a truth potion recipe in here?”

“No, but I think there’s a knockout potion somewhere. If he keeps trying to sing, I might use it.”

Lilith snorted. “Right. I’ll go ahead and brew that. Forget feeding it to him, if I have to talk to him for much longer, I’m going to want it for myself. Where do you keep your sleeping nettles?”

“Cupboard by the trashcan, do NOT let Hooty know where they are.” Eda paced the kitchen. “What if he is in the middle of escaping?”

“He’s concussed, has short little legs and no staff. He won’t get far.”

Eda snapped her fingers. “No staff! Where’s his little palisman, I didn’t see it!”

Lilith stopped mid-stir. “Palisman?! Him?!”

“Yeah, he has a little cardinal palisman.”

“Belos hates wild magic! Do you know what it took for me to keep a hold of my palisman?! You’re telling me that Hunter hasn’t just got a palisman, he’s hiding it from Belos?”

“I guess. What’s the big deal?”

Lilith laughed. “Oh, he is in for it when Belos finds out! See if he’s still the favorite then!”

“…Lili, you’re not in the emperor’s coven anymore.”

Her sister resumed stirring her potion. “I know that.”

“And we aren’t going to use Hunter’s palisman as leverage against him, okay? I want more info about Raine, but I’m not going to threaten an innocent palisman to get it.”

“Fine.” Lilith set her spoon down. “I think it’s about time we check in on him. Let’s see how much he’s panicking.

When they got down the basement stairs, Hunter was asleep. Eda snorted, setting the chair upright again. “So much for that idea.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Lilith growled.

Hunter opened his eyes with a smug look that Eda was relatively certain meant he’d never actually been asleep. “Oh, hey, when did you guys get here? Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

Lilith lunged towards Hunter, and Eda had to hold her back. “You are a horrible, conniving little brat, and if I never saw you again, I could die happy!”

“Oooo, might want to watch that temper, Lilith, isn’t that how you got beaten by your sister so many times?”

Lilith’s nostrils flared, and she stopped trying to get past Eda, taking a deep breath and smoothing her hair. “Laugh all you want, brat. I may be out of the coven, but at least I chose to go. Unlike you.”

“I’m not leaving the coven. I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to go back, and y’know what, I’m going to drag both of you with me, and this time we’ll finish the petrification process.”

Lilith chuckled. “Oh, Hunter. You don’t really think you can go back, do you? Not after you failed like this.”

For the first time since he’d gotten here, fear flashed in Hunter’s eyes. “I didn’t fail,” he said defensively, “Darius got away—I protected him from your assassination plot. I completed my mission—you failed.”

“But you were captured,” Lilith said softly, leaning in close to him, “Of course you carried out your mission—but you’ve still failed the emperor. You lost. To us. How humiliating.”

“I only lost because that coward Darius used me as a meat shield,” Hunter snarled, “It wasn’t my fault!”

Lilith laughed softly, pulling away. “Do you really think the emperor will accept that excuse? You know as well as I that you cannot blame others for your own mediocracy.”

The shift in Hunter’s attitude… Eda wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Lilith had gone from dancing to Hunter’s tune and rising to his taunts to playing the flute herself. Hunter was a marionette on her strings. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Hey, Lili? A word?”

She pulled Lilith upstairs, shutting the door so that Hunter couldn’t hear them. “What was that?!” she hissed.

“I know how the emperor’s coven works. I know how Belos works. I know how he treats people—you could hurt Hunter physically all you wanted, and he wouldn’t give up anything.”

“So you play mind games with him, Lili? That’s just cruel. Did you see his face when you said he’d failed Belos? That wasn’t just worry, that was terror. You really freaked him out, and I don’t like how you’re going about this.”

Lilith pointed at the door. “I’ve seen hardened demons break down at the idea that they’ve been left locked up with no hope of anyone ever coming for them. Do you want to know why it didn’t work on him, Eda? Because he was trained in the exact same torture methods I was. He’s the head of the emperor’s coven at age sixteen. Do you know how you get there? It isn’t by being an innocent kid, I can tell you that. Neither of us could kill him. But he’s dangerous, and Belos is the only one who could ever keep him in control. You heard him! He would drag us to our own petrification in a heartbeat! So if I have to invoke his fear of Belos to keep him from hurting you or I, I will!”

“Lilith—”

“When you first met him, he threatened King to get you and Luz to do what he wanted. He is not some cute little witchling who will roll over for belly rubs, he’s a lethal, dangerously unstable individual who is dead loyal to Belos and will stop at nothing to please him.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. It still doesn’t feel right, Lilith. And I don’t think it’ll make him crack.”

“Oh, please, he was about to be putty in my hands.”

“You make him scared of what Belos will do to him because he failed? He’ll just start thinking about how much worse it will be for him if he gives up information. No more head games, Lilith. I don’t like it, and I don’t like how much you’re acting like you did when you were in the coven.”

“Yes, because it’s effective. Good luck getting any information out of him.”

Eda grabbed her sister’s hands. “I don’t want to win by losing you. I’m not going to risk you reverting to your coven ways like that—you’ve come so far, and it’s not fair to put you in a situation where you’ll backslide.” Eda squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away. “You were right. Raine will have to wait.” It felt like a betrayal just saying it, but she couldn’t say anything else—Raine had risked everything to make sure that she, at least, could get away. Throwing that away based off of information they got from Hunter of all people would be disrespectful of their sacrifice. “We just need to ride out this storm. No more interrogations—we’re not going to just let him go, but we’re not going to hurt him, either. Okay?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Eda plucked a feather off of her sister’s arm. “This isn’t helping you—it’s making you worse. So trust me, Lilith—it is what I want.”

Xxx

Darius growled, kicking at a burned clump of vines. Of course the Golden Guard wasn’t here—he hadn’t really expected him to be, but it would have been nice. Right. Well, he could do a grueling search of the area—or worse, call in Eberwolf to help track the Golden Guard down.

Oooooor he could interrogate the last people to have seen him—his would-be assassins. He hadn’t seen their faces—the smokescreen had ensured that. But he had thought he’d heard a familiar voice.

Darius turned towards the Clawthorne estate. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Ch 3

[meteora-writes]

We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.9

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham Warnings: Angst, Talk of Mental Illness, Talk of Hallucinations, Confessions, Extreme Fluff, First Kiss Chapter: 9. Never Be Afraid (Again) Description:  While driving with Hannibal and Chiyoh, Will admits to something he never shared with anyone. Once they reach the house in New York, something changes between Will and Hannibal.  Authors Notes: So I posted this days ago on ao3 and didn’t get a chance to set it up on here until just now. I apologize. I’m working on creating a twitch channel so once or twice a week people can watch me write, and this will likely be one of the things I work on there, so I promise delays in posting are worth it in the end. Read On AO3

~~~~~ Read Ch.1.Ch.2.Ch.3.Ch.4.Ch.5.Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8~~~~~

Will doesn’t know what to feel when he climbs into the backseat of the SUV Chiyoh brought to spirit them away. He’s grateful to be leaving for someplace less damp and confined. But a part of him feels like he’s leaving some part of himself behind as he watches the cabin shrink in the distance through the rear-view mirror.

It doesn’t help that he’s feeling mixed emotions from Chiyoh that he has to separate from his own. He can tell she’s happy to see Hannibal again. But there’s something else churning beneath the surface. An unease that he suspects has to do with old worries he might ask her to go back to a life of solitude somewhere for his own amusement. Given the life Hannibal has had for the past three years, he doesn’t see the man being so cruel as to ask her to seclude herself again.

And then there’s Hannibal, who masks so much of what he’s feeling. What he does give off is usually faint and easy to navigate. It’s nice, not having to sort out if he’s feeling his own emotions or someone else’s when it comes to being with Hannibal. Yes, Hannibal has a presence that draws out Will’s darker nature. Which he initially mistook as belonging to Hannibal and Hannibal alone. He knows better now. It’s not that Will was mirroring Hannibal when he wanted to kill or hurt him or others, it was Hannibal drawing his own suppressed feelings to the surface.

“Are there going to be any stops along the way?” Chiyoh asks once they’re on the highway. She’s behind the wheel, Hannibal riding in the front passenger seat beside her and Will in the seat behind him. It’s the first time she’s spoken in the ten minutes she’s been with them, aside from greeting them both upon her arrival. She believes Hannibal would have informed her in advance if they were picking up any… guests… But it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“Not today, no,” Hannibal says simply as he watches the trees pass by. “I believe Will and I both would benefit from a few more days to recover before we should attempt anything strenuous. And I would like to take some time to get the house ready for guests first.”

“Will you be needing my assistance then? Or am I free to go once you and Will are settled?” she asks carefully. She’ll help if asked, but she doesn’t want to kill anyone if she doesn’t have to. And she doesn’t want to bear witness to the things he intends to do to his enemies. She accepts Hannibal, loves him in her own way, but she won’t be a part of the things he does to those he deems to be less.

“Depending on how things go after we’ve dealt with Bedelia, having back up when we go after Jack might be a good idea,” Will suggests, earning a questioning glance back from the woman. “Hannibal filled me in on your aptitude with a sniper rifle. Thank you, by the way, for not aiming anywhere vital when you shot me back in Palermo.”

“Thank you for not giving me a reason to,” she counters with the faintest hint of a smile. Will can see it when he looks in the rear-view mirror. “I promised Hannibal once before that I would watch over him. If he needs me to, I will be there to keep watch while the two of you do what needs to be done to Agent Crawford.”

“Thank you, Chiyoh.” The warmth in Hannibal’s voice is as evident and clear as the smile on his face.

Will catches sight of it when he looks to the mirror on their side of the vehicle. It’s nice seeing Hannibal so open with his feelings towards others. It’s a stark contrast to how he acts when those he doesn’t consider to be family are present.

“I was able to locate and purchase a ship similar to the one you described,” Chiyoh notes with another glance in the rear-view mirror to Will. “It has sails, as well as a diesel engine. It was well cared for by the previous owner and should meet your needs. I was told it would be ready to sail by next week. I paid an additional sum to have them upgrade the navigational equipment and install a new engine.”

“That’s great.” Will can’t help being a little surprised that she found a boat like the one he wanted so quickly, given how specific he was about what it needed to have. Hannibal insisted on Will giving her exact details for what he would feel most comfortable sailing since he would be the one captaining and maintaining the vessel. He really needs to stop underestimating her. “Did you ask them to order spare engine parts?”

“I did. They said you would be more than prepared should anything happen while at sea,” Chiyoh assures. She sat with the people at the marina for several hours working out every aspect of the transaction and the services they would provide to get the ship seaworthy in a timely manner.

“That’s wonderful news. I look forward to seeing the ship when the time comes. What is the name of the vessel?” Hannibal asks, tone of voice never wavering from the openly pleased tone it caries. He never doubts in Chiyoh and her abilities to carry out a task with exceptional results.

“The Black Stag.” She’s about to explain that she already placed an order for most of the other supplies they would need now that the ship is taken care of, but she’s cut off abruptly by the sound of sudden, near-hysterical sounding laughing from the back seat.

Hannibal actually turns in his seat and peers over the back to get a look at Will. He’s doubled over, arms wrapped around himself as if his sides hurt from the action, laughing so hard it sounds like he’s on the verge of hyperventilating. “I take it there is something you find amusing about that name?”

“It’s…” Will manages to say in a wheeze before another loud laugh escapes him beyond his control. “It’s just that… When I… When I had encephalitis… That was what I saw… that made me realize something was wrong with me… A massive black stag.” His laughter starts to calm down as he explains, and he gasps in great lungfuls of air as he tries to calm himself from the manic reaction to hearing the name of the ship Chiyoh found them. It’s impossible. He doesn’t believe in God in any form of the traditional sense, but that name has him wondering if this is some kind of a sign from above.

Hannibal thinks back, remembering Will talking about antlers after killing Garret Jacob Hobbs, and then later mumbling about a stag when he would use the phototherapy lights to help him get inside Will’s mind and nurture the seeds of change sprouting inside of him. “God has quite a sense of humor. Tell me, Will, when you saw this stag, what was it the creature would do?”

“Usually? It would follow me. Or just stand off to the side watching. I saw it at the hospital, work, home,” Will explains as his breathing starts to go back to normal at last. “The real irony is that it still appears in my daydreams and nightmares sometimes. But its shape changes depending on where I am and who I’m with. It becomes humanoid. Takes your face but remains a monstrous black being with antlers and the twisted body of a man.” Will scrubs his face with both hands, trying to calm himself down just a bit more. He still feels the urge to laugh despite himself. It’s just too crazy.

“Like a wendigo?” Chiyoh asks out of the blue, surprising both Will and Hannibal.

“Yes, exactly like a wendigo!” Will exclaims as he finally sits up straight in his seat once again and runs a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs back from his forehead in the process. He blinks in confusion a moment later when he notices Hannibal still staring at him from over the edge of his seat with a look that Will can’t read. It takes a second for him to realize what Hannibal is looking at. He now has a clear view of the scar on Will’s forehead. He’s been letting his hair fall over his forehead for the past two weeks, unintentionally keeping the mark covered.

Will runs his hand over his forehead, fingertips skimming over the raised line of tissues as he averts his eyes from the other man’s. He can still remember the feeling of the saw despite the haze of the drugs Hannibal had given him. The way it sent vibrations throughout his skull and down into the rest of his body as it ripped its way into him. The horrible sound of it beginning to cut bone that still echos through his skull in his nightmares. “That actually makes a lot of sense now that I think about it…”

Hannibal hums at that, understanding what Will means. It started appearing to him when he had to hunt down a cannibal. The fact that it stuck around after clearly shows how that case affected Will. And then for it to take on the appearance of Hannibal? He’s not sure how he feels about that exactly, knowing the legends of the wendigo and their association with madness as well as cannibalism. Hannibal is far from mad. And he imagines if one were ever to become such a creature, he surely would have long ago.

The conversation is dropped there. None of them feels the desire to continue on or change the subject.

Will is grateful for the quiet after everything he just shared. He never even told Molly about the stag. She knew about his nightmares. How they would creep into his mind even when daydreaming or spacing out and leave him shaken at times. But he could never bring himself to try and explain it to her and she didn’t push.

He feels oddly hollow now. Not in a bad way. It’s more like the feeling of relief one gets from finally being able to tell the whole truth about something. He always felt he couldn’t talk about the stag. Like it was a sign of how deeply messed up he really is. And he was certain that he would be sent back to the mental hospital if he told anyone about it. Put on medications and told he’s crazy.

But Chiyoh and Hannibal aren’t like the other people he’s known in his life. They don’t seem to think he’s crazy. And they don’t look at him like he’s lost his mind for admitting to seeing this imaginary creature. Hannibal knows and understands how Will’s mind works. Almost better than Will does at times. He gets that he has the imagination of an overactive child but the dark impulses of a man.

It shouldn’t surprise Will that the other man would be accepting of this quirk as well as all of his others.

But it does surprise him. Leaves him feeling strange. In the end, he decides not to think too hard on it or the feeling, and ends up turning his head to watch the scenery go by through the dark tinted windows of the SUV. He falls asleep less than an hour later.

~~~~~

The house is about what Will had expected for one owned by Hannibal. It had the exterior aesthetic of a log cabin, with the modern interior of a luxurious modern house. All dark woods and sleek designs opposed to the softer outside. There are two floors and a basement, obviously. As well as a garage and a fenced area out behind that looks like it might be for a garden of sorts.

Hannibal walks into the house ahead of Will. He immediately hung his coat in the small closet next to the entrance before taking a few steps to enter the living room. It’s a bit dark. Some light filtering in around the curtains that weren’t closed properly the last time someone had been there. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he immediately goes to the closest armchair and pulls a dusty sheet off of it, which he begins to fold meticulously.

“What can I do to help?” Will asks, standing in the doorway still. He’s looking around slowly. Taking in the few pieces of art he sees on the walls and the comfortable-looking furniture that Hannibal is beginning to uncover in the living room area.

Hannibal pauses in his folding to look across the room at Will. He seems to consider the question a moment before glancing towards the windows behind him. “Opening the windows would be a great help. It’s been quite some time since this place got a bit of fresh air.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Will agrees as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it in the closet beside Hannibal’s. The air does smell fairly stale. Musty almost. Full of dust. It makes his nose itch with the urge to sneeze that isn’t quite strong enough to actually come forth on it’s own.

Pulling the curtains open floods the room with light, making the dust motes floating in the air strikingly obvious. The fresh gust of cool air that comes in when Will opens the window only adds to the effect, making them swirl and dance in the open space.

Once all the windows in the living room are open, Will looks around and notices the doorway that leads to what he assumes is the dining area or kitchen. With a glance to Hannibal, who is still uncovering furniture, he heads that way to open more windows.

The kitchen is so strikingly similar to the one in Hannibal’s old house that Will actually freezes in the doorway upon seeing it. The only real differences that Will can see are that the fridge is on the opposite wall, and the counters are a different color of marble. It’s like stepping into an alternate reality for a moment. And he has flashes of himself and Hannibal there. Chatting over coffee. Watching him cook the two of them dinner… And then it shifts and twists back to the kitchen in Baltimore, to blood and Abigail and ungodly pain. And then finally to a bloody Hannibal walking away from the two of them...

Hannibal sees the way Will’s body locks up momentarily upon seeing the kitchen before he clearly forces himself to walk into the room in an unusually stiff manner. It makes a pang of something that feels dangerously like guilt hit him. He can imagine the things that have to be going through Will’s mind in that moment, and they’re far from pleasant he’s sure. He can only imagine what kinds of things might trigger Will to relive the more horrible moments of his past. Moments that Hannibal caused...

It takes about an hour to get things in order. They get all of the furniture uncovered, windows open, electricity and water turned back on. Chiyoh shows up with groceries just after they finish getting things in working order, and she helps them clean things up a bit before bidding them goodbye for now and heading off to wherever it is that she intends to stay, since she declined to stay with the two of them. She lets Hannibal know there is an SUV in the garage now that they should be travel in without issues. He thanks her, and with that, she’s gone.

They don’t talk much that evening, Will and Hannibal. It’s been a long day and they’re both tired. It isn’t until late that evening when Hannibal comments on going to sleep that it strikes them both that the house has multiple bedrooms. They don’t -have- to sleep together. But one look shared between them makes it clear that isn’t what either man wants.

So, Will sets aside the now empty glass of whiskey he had been sipping as they sat by the fire, and walks over to where Hannibal stands beside the stairs that lead up to the second floor. He reaches out slowly, as if afraid of being rebuked for the action, and gently takes Hannibal’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

His eyes are downcast, looking at their hands and pointedly not at Hannibal’s face. A mix of anxiety, embarrassment, and whiskey coloring and warming his cheeks. He feels ridiculous. Like a schoolboy with a crush. But he just doesn’t know how the hell to feel about the other man in that moment or what to make of Hannibal’s feelings towards him. He just knows he doesn’t want to be away from him if he doesn’t have to be...

Hannibal turns towards Will, making the other man’s breath hitch audibly as he draws closer. He raises the hand not currently being held, and uses a finger under Will’s chin to make him look up, worried blue meeting warm brown. “Stay with me, Will?”

Will seems to relax at the question, shoulders sagging just a little as he looks Hannibal in the eye and nods. Hannibal’s finger stays under his chin. Keeping his head tilted and eyes locked with the older man’s. He can see the longing in them. Feel it. It mixes with his own... And before he can overthink it, he leans in, tilts his head ever so slightly, and brings their lips together.

It’s soft. Brief. And Hannibal returns it readily. His every nerve singing with the pleasant shock of it. When they part Will has a questioning look in his eyes. Wanting to know if he read the moment wrong. If he’s just made a huge mistake. All Hannibal can bring himself to do in answer is gently slip his hand around to the back of Will’s neck and pull him into another soft kiss.

They stand there a long moment, Will hedging closer into Hannibal’s space as they give in to the desire that’s been building between them for some time. They finally part when Hannibal needs a breath, and he opens his eyes to find a small smile on Will’s lips. “Let’s go to bed?”

The question is innocent. No implication of wanting any more than what Will just shared with him. It’s late, and they’re both still healing. In more ways than one. He has no intention of rushing this. And Will seems to feel the same.

“Lead the way,” Will utters before stealing one last, quick kiss. Because he can. Because it feels like he is allowed to do that. And because it lets him know that what just happened was real and not some imagined moment in his overactive mind.

Hannibal does lead the way. And they take their time changing into nightclothes before slipping under the covers of the king-sized bed of the master bedroom. Even with the much larger sleeping space, the moment they are in it together Will gravitates towards him. Seeks him out and moves in close enough to feel Hannibal’s warmth and solid presence.

They fall asleep curled together much like they would back in the cabin. Only now, Will leans in and gives Hannibal one last kiss goodnight before they both drift off.

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Episode 18: Scheherazade

This episode is wonderful. Here are my thoughts.

SPOILERS AHEAD.

0:12 - Sooooo did Malcolm convince Gil to let him take the Surgeon case files from the precinct?

0:32 - Malcolm was eating Chinese take out? IDK. That stuff is pretty greasy. Something tells me that Chinese take out is not a good food to eat if you have a sensitive stomach.

1:24 - To be clear - Eve and Malcolm are not dating in this moment correct? They broke up last episode? Am I wrong?

2:04 - So Malcolm did want to go to this thing right? He genuinely likes ballet and his mom decided to make it a mother/son date. Ugh. So freaking adorable. <3

2:10 - Listening to Jessica talk on the phone is really interesting here. You can see that she’s embarrassed that she’s there alone and annoyed that Malcolm stood her up. She’s trying to be quiet and discreet on the phone so none of the nosy rich people notice but - of course - you can see them all looking at/talking about Jessica  in the background. I feel really bad for Jessica here. She doesn’t belong in the average person world because she’s rich and she can’t hang out in the rich people world because they’re all a bunch of overgrown high schoolers with the bullying and cliques to match.

2:24 - Look at how excited Jessica is initially - when this woman b**ch starts talking to her. Jessica looks hopeful that someone is going to actually be nice to her. Her gorgeous face drops when this Cricket woman starts being a b**ch. Props to Jessica for dragging this woman about the admissions scandal though.

2:53 - Ok. I immediately don’t like Endicott. Why? He clearly only saved Jessica because he wants to get in her pants. However, I love the way Jessica looks at him. She’s hopeful, flattered, and grateful. She almost never looks this happy and it’s a damn shame.

3:35 - Quick side note: Jessica looks amazing in that dress. Blue looks good on her….wait. Do you think she wore a blue dress because it would look good with Malcolm’s eyes? Not in a creepy incest way - just in a “I’m matching with my son” because we have a close, non-sexual relationship way.

4:50 - hahaha Cricket got blood spatter on her face. She deserved it.

5:00 - “You know your Mom called this in right?” - I love this. Jessica didn’t call 911. Before anyone could even think of calling 911 - I promise you Jessica was on the phone with Gil. Because Gil has always protected her family. She trusts Gil despite the fact that - like her son - she trusts almost no one since Martin was arrested.

5:02 - Again. I LOVE THIS TEAM. Talk about character/relationship growth. Dani and Malcolm making lighthearted banter. JT being really forward about telling Malcolm to go and check on his mother (who just witnessed a murder). I love that we are now at the point in this team’s relationship that JT and Dani love Malcolm so much that they worry about Malcolm’s Mom. <3

5:16 - Props to Edrisa. She’s a little neurotic and often anxious. BUT check out the way she laid down the law with that dude who was touching evidence. This girl is great.

6:00 - “Welcome to 2020. Can’t rule anything out.” - Can we just appreciate this line. It was probably written in late 2019 or before the whole COVID-19 nonsense in 2020. What a timely, well-delivered line. They probably writers probably did it by accident too. They were probably trying to allude to the craziness that was about to unravel with Endicott for the rest of this season. I love this show.

6:15 - JEALOUS GIL ALERT. Honestly - this was amazing. Gil is so jealous (not hiding it well btw) but he’s trying so hard to be a professional.  ALSO - check out the way that Endicott is looking at Gil. Endicott knows that Jessica and Gil have feelings for each other. He also knows that Gil suspects him as a murderer (for this case and the 1x19 case). Yikes. If Endicott has Gil injured, maimed, or killed in 1x20 I WILL THROW HANDS.

7:07 - This is cool to me. Jessica is mad at Malcolm but she doesn’t call him “Malcolm Whitly”; she calls him “Malcolm Bright”. This implies that Bright might be Malcolm’s legal last name. If it’s not - it means that Jessica respects her son. No matter how angry she might be at him - she would never intentionally harm him. She’s a good mom. (ALSO EDRISA’s REACTION ahahahaha and the way that Malcolm closes his eyes when he hears Jessica’s voice like “Aww shit. I’m in trouble.”)

7:30 - Honestly, I think it was both. From what we learn in this episode - Malcolm likes ballet. He’s probably sorry he missed the murder (because you know he’s Malcolm) but I feel like he was also looking forward to the event. Even if it meant that he would have to schmooze some rich people and listen to his Mom be a little nervous and a lot extra throughout the night.

7:45 - YES. YES. This is the perfect reaction to Eve. One that I’m sure a lot of fans can relate to. Yes - we hate the fact that Eve manipulated her way into Jessica and Malcolm’s lives. We hate that she broke both of their hearts. However, we sympathize with her brutally dark childhood and the loss of her sister. You can hate someone’s actions without hating the person as a whole. AND RIGHT HERE you can see that duality on Jessica’s face.

8:08 - At least Malcolm isn’t lying to Jessica? But dang. He looks so guilty about telling his Mom that he’s planning on visiting Martin. Probably because he knows Jessica will worry about the meeting, Malcolm’s mental health, and all other potential fallouts of Malcolm’s “plan”.

9:15 - Look at Malcolm here. He’s staring at Eve with a mixture of fear and concern. For once - he’s not focused on Martin. Malcolm’s concern for Eve and Eve’s pain is overpowering the discomfort and anxiety that Malcolm experiences when he sees his father.

9:20 - “You’re prettier than I imagined.” Ugh. Go to hell Martin. Malcolm looks so freaking ashamed to be Martin’s son right here. Look at his sad little face. :(

9:38 - What a toxic parent. He’s a serial killer and he’s still trying to make his ex-wife seem like the bad parent. Martin needs therapy.

9:45 - Holy hell. Malcolm looks terrified���..actually Martin looks a little scared too.

9:52 - I love this. Malcolm is so afraid of what Martin might do to Eve that he jumps over that red line. Also - take a second to notice how Malcolm grabs Eve. It’s not intimate. Definitely not the way you’d grab a significant other or a close friend. His hands aren’t touching her. He has his hands clasped around each other and his arms wrapped around Eve’s shoulders. This is a very gentlemanly way to grab a lady - even in a panicked, dangerous situation when he’s probably acting on sheer instinct and fear. Malcolm’s not thinking of where his hands are positioned. This is how he reaches for her instinctively and I respect it.

10:05 - Malcolm looks so scared here. Eve slapping Martin was definitely not part of the plan. Eve is improvising.

10:40 - Again. Check out the way Malcolm grabs Eve’s shoulder. It’s not the way you’d put your hand on a significant other’s shoulder. They are not dating here.

10:43 - Look at Martin’s face. It’s twisting in disgust. Is he actually feeling guilt for being a terrible father? I thought psychopaths couldn’t feel remorse? Maybe he’s just disgusted that his son is in a relationship with a woman who would have the nerve to insult Martin to his face?

10:50 - “I’ve told you all I can.” Martin’s eyes show fear in this moment. After watching 1x19 - I see why.

11:09 - The way that Martin shouts “Malcolm” is haunting. You can see it upsets Malcolm too by the way he grips his head. I wonder if Martin used that tone of voice with Malcolm as a child? Martin supposedly acted like a perfect father but what if Martin was verbally abusive to Malcolm when they were home alone together? Maybe this is how he conditioned Malcolm - like with that “Boy!” in 1x14, right before Malcolm stabs Martin. What if he drugged Malcolm to make him forget then too? Is that why Malcolm looks like he’s having a traumatic response to his name being called in that tone?

11:16 - Malcolm is impressed by Eve but also a little scared of Eve. Her performance was alarming to him. He didn’t expect her to be that angry.

12:04 - Edrisa is a national treasure. “I disagreed” bahahahaha. OMG. Even Gil looks amused at this one.

13:15 - “To maintain a comfortable lifestyle”. Seriously - do the writers want me to suspect Endicott? I seriously pinned it on him the whole time I watched this episode for the first time. Now I know better - but he’s still a sleaze bucket who has killed people.

13:34 - I love how no one on the team is buying Malcolm’s “my rich Mom took me to watch ballet as a kid” act. They know there’s more to it than that. They know Malcolm well enough to know when he’s lying.

13:40 - Gil is like “I’ve known you since you were 10. Jessica did not take you to the ballet for as long as I’ve known you. I would’ve heard about it.”

14:05 - I wish Malcolm always looked that happy when he declines one of Martin’s calls.

14:26 - This is seriously disconcerting. This is the most sincere and serious behaviour that we’ve ever seen from Martin. Martin is scared. Now that I’ve seen 1x19, I understand it. He’s afraid for himself. Of what Endicott may do to him if this gets out. I still can’t quite figure out if Martin actually cares about what happens to Ainsley, Malcolm, and Jessica though. I don’t think he’s capable. I hope I’m wrong.

14:32 - Soooo Mr. David doesn’t know about this. That makes sense. Did Mr. David see Martin get slapped? Are these phone calls recorded? Is that why Mr. David gives Martin that look? To remind Martin to keep quiet about the slap because it could cause Mr. David to lose his job? Are they friends? Ugh. This relationship is so fascinating to me.

15:33 - Look at Gil. He does not like the catty attitude of these ballet dancers.

15:45 - OMG. JT looks like he’s watching reality TV. He’s amused, a little confused, a lot shocked, and he can’t look away.

16:00 - I don’t like this Joesph dude - because he’s a jerk. BUT he has a point. These ballerinas seems very unstable. In the emotional sense.

16:12 - Dang. This is brutal. I didn’t like the way this girl was acting - but no one deserves this.  

16:53 - “I’m right here. I’m right here.” UGH. Gil saying this is so freaking sweet. All I can imagine is Gil saying that to Malcolm as a kid when Mal wakes up from a nightmare. <3 Ugh. The thought is warming my cold, dead heart.

17:15 - It’s a little concerning that Malcolm looks so excited about being in the same building as an active killer. ALTHOUGH - he regularly visits his serial killer father. Maybe he’s so used to being afraid of killers that he doesn’t even register it anymore? He’s so focused on solving the case that his own safety doesn’t even register as a concern?

17:23 - Papa!Gil is angry. I’m picturing him giving Malcolm a lecture in this tone of voice after Malcolm did something stupid when he was a teenager.

18:00 - Malcolm is having the time of his life. Look at this boy go. He has a group of suspects to profile and they’re all standing right in front of him. Life can’t get much better.

19:30 - Yep. This dude is a jerk. Also - Malcolm looks tiny next him. How tall is that dude? I know Tom Payne is short but damn.

19:36 - Question: why wasn’t Fiona in this group that was initially being profiled? Was she not in the building?

19:55 - Look at this. Jessica totally wants to talk to Martin. She is so pleased that she finally has something to rub in Martin’s face to make him jealous/angry. Also - can we all just appreciate how Jessica picks up the phone?!? When she’s addressing Mr. David?!? hahahaha comedic GOLD.

20:12 - Martin is losing his marbles. He really is an attention whore. Dang.

20:18 - “Martin stop being a helicopter parent.” - Yo. Jessica, I love you but you are a hypocrite.

20:30 - And this was the moment that Jessica forgave Eve for betraying her and Malcolm. Hahaha look at how absolutely delighted Jessica looks when she finds out that Eve struck Martin. hahaha

20:35 - Look at the way Martin glances over at Mr. David as he asks Jessica if she’s paying attention to him. It’s as though he’s reigning himself in because he knows Mr. David will hang up the phone and leave the cell if Martin loses it. Martin is so desperate for attention that he’ll take a bad phone call with his ex-wife over being alone in his cell. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

20:43 - Huh. Do you think Gil saw that photo? How do you think our jealous cop reacted?

21:03 - Ok. So, in this scene Martin is chained to the wall. He’s talking on the phone. Mr. David is in the room. NO one else. WHAT ARE THE PARAMETERS REGARDING WHEN MARTIN GETS CHAINED TO THE WALL?!?!? There have been so many scenes when Martin is not chained to the wall and he’s alone with Mr. David. I have so many questions about how this works.

21:06 - Martin’s toddler-esque hissy fit is freaking hilarious. This dude is unstable.

21:24 - Martin’s flashbacks have to be true. Right? So we can all say with 100% certainty that he took Malcolm to the cabin and held a girl (Sophie) in the cabin.

21:43 - Poor Mr. David. :( He looks so done with Martin’s nonsense. Why doesn’t Mr. David quit? He could easily get a position guarding a less insane prisoner. He’s been with Martin for 20ish years. At this point he’s either a) friends with Martin, b) developed some sort of twisted Stockholm Syndrome, c) working for Endicott, or d) getting paid a lot of money.

22:34 - Fiona is a nasty Queen B and I’m annoyed that Gil can’t arrest her on principle.

23:25 - “He upset some very powerful people. They made his escape from Cuba possible.” ….Soooo Endicott is definitely a shady dude. I still think he had something to do with Javier’s death.

23:40 - “Jessica’s friend?” - Dang. Gil, you’re jealousy is showing. <3 hahaha also he looks so freaking unsurprised. Gil’s like “I knew he was shady. I KNEW IT!!” And I find it really interesting that he refers to Jessica by her first name in front of Malcolm. Usually, he’ll say “your mother” or “your mom”. This indicates that Gil currently feels personally involved in Jessica’s life. This is a situation that is affecting him as opposed to Malcolm so he’s referring to her as “Jessica” instead of “your mother”.

24:02 - OMG. Gil, please stop being so obviously jealous of a woman in front of her son. Her son is a profiler. He can see through you and you’re probably making him uncomfortable (look at the way Malcolm looks down and smirks after Gil does this he knows). Regardless, this is the single funniest thing Gil has ever done on this show.

24:15 - Are Endicott and Gil really having a weird, not-so-subtle “guy-off” over Jessica while talking about the investigation?!? Malcolm looks hella awkward. He’s like “Fake-Dad vs. suspect/Mom’s crush. What do I do?”

24:43 - ENDICOTT DO NOT PRETEND THAT YOU DIDN’T KNOW MALCOLM WAS HER SON. Your shady ass has totally been keeping tabs on her whole family for the past 20 years.

24:50 - DANG. Check out that look that Jessica gives Malcolm. It’s like “Do not embarrass me in front of Nicholas. Do not tell your sister what you’ve seen. Do not discuss what you just witnessed with me. Ever. This did not happen.”

24:54 - Gil, buddy, I love you but looking at your watch is super obvious. Please reign it in. Your jealousy, while hilarious, it not attractive to a woman.

25:09 - I feel so bad for Malcolm throughout this whole scene. He’s clearly still interested in solving the case but he has this confused, slightly disturbed look on his face as he watches the whole love triangle fight go down.

26:06 - Once again, the whole “guessing JT’s name” is my favourite running gag on this show. Look. Even JT is into it now. He used to be super annoyed by it. This is how much JT and Malcolm’s friendship has grown. I’m so proud of these losers.

26:20 - OMG. hahaha “Posion.” Is Gil considering poisoning Endicott because he’s really that jealous?!!? I doubt it. More likely - Gil is suspecting Endicott of killing Javier. HOWEVER, I also think that this is a very subtle hint by the writers that Endicott is going to poison Gil in the season finale. I DO NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT - but I have a horrible dread that I will be.

27:00 - Seriously? Martin gets an iPod too? Is he really a prisoner?!? This dude lives better than me.

27:30 - So Martin is mad at Malcolm here. “Kids.” Huh. So did he actually try to kill Malcolm that night? Or did he chicken out when he got up to the cabin?

28:13 - HOW THE HELL DID MARTIN GET EVE’S PHONE NUMBER?!? Magic? Does he get internet access? A phone book? He has Mr. David find it for him?

28:25 - Check out Malcolm’s face. He looks longingly and sad as he stares at the ballerinas. He stares at them with respect too - not lust. He really likes ballet. <3

29:00 - Is Malcolm projecting here. “You took a chance on him when no one else would.” Did he quit dance because of how people treated him after Martin was arrested? Does Malcolm identify with Javier?

29:10 - Listen to how Fiona praises Javier’s work ethic. It almost feels like she’s talking about Malcolm. Of course, she isn’t, she doesn’t know Malcolm. BUT the writers know Malcolm. Is this a subtle hint that Malcolm is not a killer? That he’s incapable of being a killer? I mean - they even go so far as to have Fiona say that something about Javier’s performance was off - not his work performance but his personal performance. Is that a reference to Malcolm’s deteriorating mental health? Maybe I’m reading way to much into this…

31:14 - Does Malcolm even know he’s projecting here?! I don’t think he does. Gil sees it though. Damn. I’m surprised he didn’t challenge Malcolm on it. Or hug him. Ugh. My heart is broken.

33:05 - Is Malcolm so shocked that he doesn’t move? Or is this just Malcolm’s passive suicidality at work here? Watch Gil tackle him to the ground though. <3 I’m in love. This is the father Malcolm deserves.

33:36 - hahaha look at Malcolm’s precious little ballet jump. Gil sees it too. Gil is like “Wtf? This kid totally did ballet at some point. How did I not know about it?”

35:15 - Look at how freaking proud Gil is of Malcolm. Gil - a man who likes classic cars, has sports trophies in his office, and drinks fancy liquor. Gil is, in a lot of ways, stereotypically male. He finds out that his dorky pseudo-son did something as stereotypically feminine as dancing ballet (and enjoyed it) and Gil doesn’t bat an eye. He doesn’t get mad. He doesn’t tease Malcolm. He just looks at him with pride. We need more men like Gil in this world.

37:00 - Anyone else extremely upset by the idea that Martin put his son to bed like a Good Dad before going downstairs with the intent to murder a woman?

38:25 - I feel really bad for Sophie. :(

39:20 - Soooo is Sophie still alive? Or did Endicott have her hunted down and killed?

40:29 - This isn’t the first time in this series that Martin has bashed Jessica’s parenting skills. Or the first time he’s hinted that Jessica did something bad to the children. Given Jessica’s behaviour toward Ainsley and Malcolm - I doubt it. That woman adores her children. However, she does have a drinking problem and I’m starting to wonder what Martin thinks makes Jessica so bad. Is it simply because she divorced him? Or that she kept the children from him? Or is it something more?

40:50 - Well at least Malcolm knows Martin has been gaslighting him. :(

41:06 - Soooo Mr. David totally heard that conversation. Makes you wonder if Mr. David is working for Endicott. The things that Mr. David knows…

41:50 - So Eve definitely broke up with him here. Again? Honestly - I have no idea when these two were actually together.

43:21 - I do not like that monster inside the Whitly house. No no no no.

Well. Thanks for hanging out Prodigies. See you next time.

[queenofnohr]

Aeaean Spring Breeze - Ch. 4: Like Iron, Like Steel

Dreamwidth version here

---

[we begin with a storybook segment]

Once upon a time......

—There was a man who was like iron. He had a strong will and a tenacious spirit. A hero who loved the gods, and was beloved by the gods. A warrior who departed for home after a long, long war.

......He was tired. Tired of war, tired of thinking. Tired of killing. And it was the same for his men. Fighting so much for so long had worn away at their very souls.

Witch: Then it would be better if you became beasts.

……And perhaps it was. Being able to simply live without thinking. It must be very fun to be a beast.

It was only a single man. One man who stubbornly refused such a fate.

Man: —I must return home.

Not, “I want to return home.”  “I must return home.” The witch refutes the man’s words.

Witch: Why do you need to return? Everything you want is right here.

Man: It’s not. Penelope isn’t here.

The witch is at a loss for words. Out of everything in this whole wide world. It was for the sake of a single woman. He would risk his life to go home for one single woman.

Witch: —I can’t. I won’t let you go, how could I let you go?

Perhaps it was because he was the first thing she’d ever felt an attachment toward. She wanted this man, wanted to show the world she had him. In some respects, it was the mismatched desire to own him. In that way, the witch was still a witch. ……If she could just be with him. If that wish was granted, she would be okay.

[end storybook segment]

Mash: I’m not picking up on…… anything, in this room. Arjuna: So it seems. No signs, no fire, no ice. Orion: Then should we go ahead? Circe: Hm...... Odysseus, try tossing that stone. Odysseus: Like this?

[he throws it]

Arjuna: …...I’ll amend my previous statement. There isn’t any fire or ice, but there does seem to be invisible beams set up. Odysseus: ......You’re sharp. Circe: The eyes of a Great Witch can’t be fooled. Arjuna: So…… What should we do? Should we go back down the previous path and try to see if there’s another route? Odysseus: That would probably be a futile effort. If we take into account the layout of this labyrinth, even if we follow other branching paths, they’ll likely just lead us back here. Jason: ……Huh, looks like there’s a button on the other side of the room. It’s like it’s screaming “Please push me!” Arjuna: Then, shall I try shooting it? Jason: Wait—

[Arjuna shoots it]

Arjuna: ……There’s something repelling my arrows…... Jason: Can you warn us before doing something like that!? What if it exploded!? Orion: Ya’know, I’ve been thinking this for a while but…… Arjuna kinda acts like an accelerator rather than a brake…… Like, instead of stopping us from acting rashly, he tends to take the lead when it comes to rushing in…… Arjuna: Preposterous. I’m the picture of serenity. In fact, it’s my role to keep the rest of you calm. Orion: It’s pretty scary to have a catalyst with no self-awareness…… Circe: Hm, hmmmmm, how about this……?

[lasers appear after Circe uses her magic]

Circe: Alrighty, now we can see them clearly. Jason: Okay, we can see the laser trap. Then all we have to do is run and press the button, right? If we do that, then we should be able to clear the room. Circe: *sigh* Looks like it can’t be helped. ......’Kay, then you guys wait here a sec. Odysseus: Are you going to be okay? Circe: Huh? What’s with that look? Are you gonna say you’re worried? Odysseus: A little. Considering the traps so far, I doubt the solution would be so simple. Circe: ……Yeah, I think so too. But for now I’ll put up a defensive barrier and give it a go. Now then, let’s go, Master!

> Take ca—

Circe: Huh?

[Circe explodes]

Circe: Gyah!!? Ouch ouch ouch ouch! What the hell was that!? Orion: The second Circe entered the room, it’s like all the lasers entered attack mode and homed in on her…… Circe: Th- This sucks! It broke through my boosted defenses like they were nothing! Even some of my clothes and hair got singed! Odysseus: ......Are you okay? Circe: I’m fine! But what are we supposed to do? We’re not gonna be able to get through like this! ???: Oh my, not with that attitude you won’t.

> That lovely voice…...!

Euryale: Hello, everyone. It is the goddess who both walks with and is clad in with loveliness, poise, and purity— That’s right, it is I, Euryale. Now then, what are your complaints? Odysseus: I have no complaints, but I do have questions. Euryale: Oh, you’re scary. Like a hunter shooting prey. So this is what it means to be a warrior who puts intellect before heroism. And it is because of this that you are a hero of humanity. I wonder how you’re different from savage warriors.

> Why are you doing this?

Euryale: ...... ...... Rather than answering that, I’ll tell you how to get through this room. Jason: (She dodged the question!) Euryale: The trick to this trial is to synchronize your breathing with another. Two of you must step in time and synchronize your breaths as if dancing to avoid the lasers. I wrote down detailed rules. Here, read and memorize them. Circe: Th- This is really complicated. Euryale: It’s complicated, but not impossible. Just believe in your goddess. Orion: ……That’s the least trustworthy phrase in the entire world…... Euryale: What did you just say? Orion: *silence* Odysseus: …...Goddess Euryale. I have a question. Euryale: What is it? Odysseus: Until now, if there was a trick to solving a room, there was also a hint to help solve it…… Why wasn’t there a hint this time? Euryale: No reason in particular. Don’t get carried away, human. Those hints are both the kindness of a goddess and her fickleness. Whether or not I give you a hint is all on a whim. Asterios: Euryale, I found the lost sign! Look, look! Euryale: Ah, wait. I’m broadcasting right now, so don’t come over! ......Anyway. That’s why! Jason: In other words, it’s just a run-of-the-mill mistake on your end. Arjuna: ......Hmmm. In that case, the problem is who Circe will sync her breathing up with. Master is out of the question. We cannot put them in harm’s way. Then, out of those remaining…... Jason: Syncing my breathing with Circe? The Great Witch? With me? ......That’s impossible...... Orion: I’m with Jason. Georgios: Arjuna and I have different places of origin and are from different eras. ……Isn’t Odysseus the best choice for this task? Circe: ......Absolutely not. Georgios: Why? Circe: I don’t really have a reason, but I still don’t wanna. Teaming up with Odysseus for this is totally unreasonable. It’s like the gods are toying with me! Orion: Well, that goes without saying. She admitted herself she does whatever she wants…… Circe: Totally! Jason: Oh my god. Master, say something.

> Circe, even if you don’t want to, it can’t be helped

Jason: Right!? Circe: Ugh...... W-When you put it like that...... It’s not like I’m trying to be unreasonable, damn it.

> Is there anyone besides Odysseus?

Circe: Hmmmm…… First of all, Jason and Orion? Hard pass. Totally out of the question. Jason: What was that!? I didn’t wanna team up with you anyway, but “totally out of the question”!? Orion: Yeah, that’s super whack! Circe: Medea. Jason: Urp. Circe: Artemis. Orion: Oof. Circe: Arjuna and Gerogios…… Hmm, it feels like I’m already out of sync with the two of you…… Georgios: How harsh. But I do agree with you.

Circe: So that leaves…… Hmmm…… Just like before...... It comes down to…… You, I guess…… Odysseus: Seems like it. There’s no need to feel embarrassed, though. We’re dead, after all. Circe: I mean, you’re right, but…… It’s totally more complicated than that! Odysseus: It’s for the sake of getting through the labyrinth. ……You probably have a good reason to hate me. But I’m asking you to please bear with it for just a little bit. Circe: ......That, right there! That’s the exact sort of thing I hate! Do you get it!? Odysseus: It seems like you hate my existence. Circe: ......Ugh. I’m SO glad I put that limiter on my emotions. If I hadn’t, we’d probably have killed each other by now. It feels like this is going nowhere, but whatever. Let’s get this over with, Odysseus. Just follow my lead. Odysseus: Very well. Circe: ……Keep close to me. Odysseus: Like this? Circe: That’s too close, idiot. Move away a bit. ‘Kay, let’s go. Let’s see…… Step here first. Odysseus: .....We were able to avoid it, however narrowly. It’s just as the goddess said. Circe: We’re still going. Left! Right! Center! Crouch! Jump! Stay close and turn! Jason: So breathing in sync was the correct answer after all. Circe: Quiet, peanut gallery! 1, 2, 3...... Turn here! Mash: It’s like a ballroom dance. Circe: This is pretty frantic for a dance! Odysseus: Naturally. If a goddess has something to do with all this nonsense, then of course this laser trap is serious business. Circe: Crouch! Odysseus: Rahhhh! Jason: Ha, ha, ha, seeing Odysseus so frantic is pretty unexpected— ……Oi. Some of my beautiful golden locks burnt off. Wait, this trap is seriously lethal!? Circe: Why else would we be jumping around like our lives depended on it!? Georgios: Be that as it may, it really does look like you’re dancing. Smile, you two. Odysseus: In this situation......!? Circe: As if we can smile like it’s nothing! Crouch now!

[They do smile for Georgios]

Circe: We made it! Switch off! Arjuna: The lasers disappeared. Let’s move.

[something rumbles]

Arjuna: Hm?

[an alarm sounds]

Circe: All of that and we still have to fight!? Odysseus: It’s simply the whims of the goddess. Our move will be to counter-attack.

[battle, and after Odysseus gets some of his memories]

Odysseus: Mm. This is...... Circe: More of your memories? Odysseus: Correct. I’ve regained another portion of my memory. But the question of why I was summoned here still remains. Putting that aside— ......Circe. You’re Circe. Circe: So you’ve finally remembered? That’s right. I’m Circe, the Great Witch of Aeaea Island. Odysseus: Those words are finally sinking in. ......It’s been a while. Circe: Your memory came back, and while it’s an unfortunate feeling, I’m not really shaken up. Fufu. Odysseus: ......Did you use magic again? Circe: Again? Odysseus: You did it a couple times while I was on Aeaea Island. Circe: Huh, really? What did I use it for? Odysseus: ......You don’t remember? Circe: Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t remember at all. Odysseus: ......To be frank, it might be too much coming from me. Circe: Just tell me! Odysseus: Hahahaha. Forgive me. I was joking. Circe: ...... ......? Odysseus, now that you’re here again, what do you think of me? Odysseus: Let’s see. You’re a proud Great Witch who has acquired all manner of knowledge. ……I’d like for you to break your bad habit of turning people into beasts. Circe: Hmph. I always choose who I turn carefully.

> You do!?

Circe: Gah, Master! Arjuna: If I may speak frankly. ......Circe would change anyone into a pig, regardless of who they were. Georgios: Yes, I think so as well. Do you have any standards? Circe: I do! I have standards. But, I won’t tell you what they are. Odysseus: ……Yeah, I’m aware. I know what your standards are. Circe: !? ......I’ve never told you, though. Odysseus: Indeed, you haven’t. I might also be wrong. Nonetheless, I don’t want to say it, so I’ll keep it a secret. Circe: ......Hmph.

> (Those two have a secret……!)

Mash: (It makes your heart race just a bit, doesn’t it senpai?)

> I don’t want you to turn anyone into a pig……

Circe: ......Oh no, Piglet, it’s my— Policy, I guess? Just a kind of feeling. Jason: You just do it to whoever annoys you enough!

Georgios: Hmm……

[Georgios snaps a photo of Odysseus]

Odysseus: Another photo I presume, Georgios? Georgios: You had a nice expression on. Odysseus: I’ll take that as a compliment. Now then. Let’s go confront the goddess who stole my memories and made this Singularity. Then it’ll be case closed. Hopefully. Circe: ……That’s right. Let’s go! Odysseus: ......Though, I’m hungry. It seems like a stray Servant’s fate is a lack of mana.

> What should we do?

Odysseus: Forming a contract would be the quickest way, but...... Arjuna: I would advise against that.

> Should we form a contract?

Odysseus: ……No, let’s stop that train of thought there.

Odysseus: Although this is a Micro-Singularity, a goddess is involved. You shouldn’t form a contract thoughtlessly with a strange Servant. Arjuna: You think yourself unworthy of our trust? Odysseus: Indeed. Circe: Then, do you want to supply your mana with food? And by that I mean……! Everyone: Kykeon. Circe: That’s right! Jason: Kykeon, huh……? Circe: What’s with that look of disgust? Odysseus: I don’t hate it. On the contrary, it’s quite nostalgic. Circe: Really? If that’s the case, I always have ingredients to make kykeon on me! Jason: What in the world would possess you to do that…… Arjuna: Then let’s take a small break while Circe treats us to kykeon.

---

Ch. 3 ← → Ch. 5

[unto-myself-together]

Of Stories and Songs: Ch 8

A lot of author notes, I know, but there’s no avoiding that.  A TON of stuff happens in this chapter. 

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Author notes: I really REALLY need to stop making long chapters.  22 pages!  Like I never get them out and I get “fatigued” or something when I make them super long like this. I also wouldn’t have to make such long author notes. 

Inb4 my family thinks I’m creepy for breathing into my phone while recording.

I actually couldn’t figure out how to get the audio files off my phone, but you’re really not missing much anyways.  Just when you get to the part of the story, take a deep breath in and listen to how it sounds when you take a deep breath in.  Change it up by changing how fast you breath the air in, and listen.  Yes, that was exactly what I was going for.  

Character names and the Imagineers they were named after:

Claude = Claude Coates Michael Davis = Mark Davis Karen Anderson = Ken Anderson Solomon Gracey= Yale Gracey Rolly Mortimer= Rolly Crump The Atencio company = X Atencio Nell is named after the main character of the Haunting of Hill House *(as well as named after the author of that story).  And Galloway isn’t anything important or a reference; it just sounded cool at the time. 

Yes, I did indeed try to draw that creepy hand that passes over the grandfather clock.  I’m sad it didn’t turn out quite right, but I dislike the act of drawing too much to actually bother fixing that piece up. 

“Closing your eyes” : When I was young, my mother would always close my eyes when the Ghost Host would show his body hanging from the rafters.  I thought she did it because I was afraid of the thunder and lightning, and she was known to hold my eyes whenever something I found scary happened on other rides.  Even though thunder is a SOUND and not a sight, it did feel comforting to have her put her hands over my eyes anyways.  It took me a long, long time to figure out the real reason she closed my eyes was because she didn’t want me to see the hanged man.  Part of that was because I didn’t know it was a hanged man, even when I had a chance to look at it.  It just looked like a weird clump of clothes hanging from the ceiling. So I guess in some ways, she didn’t even need to hold my eyes close to begin with (because I would not have known even if I looked at it); but I still appreciated that she went through the effort. 

The idea of three people creepily coming closer and closer to you after having cornered you is kind of what I imagined the Cast Members would totally do to guests that don’t listen and leave the ride vehicles without permission.  You know...if security didn’t have to be involved and they were allowed to be theatrical.  

So in the actual ride, there are TWO stretching rooms for all Haunted Mansion locations.  In WDW, they exist on either side of the Aging Man portrait. They are exactly identical, and I always thought it would be fun to imagine that they are the EXACT same room, and that the house just moves rooms around. 

The door hidden in the darkness of the foyer is an actual door in WDW that I’ve been through.  It connects to the small pet cemetery area right outside the exit doors of the ride. I’ve been through it before and it was totally awesome; might talk about it in another post. 

There are actually two versions of Nell; the one in this story and the one that I roleplay.  For all intents and purposes, they have the exact same personality, likes, and etc, but they just have different backstories and reasons for being at the mansion.  In case anyone was confused.

I struggled, for a long time, to figure out what year this story ought to take in (as in, what year the two teens come to the mansion).  There are benefits and downsides to both “modern era” and 1960s, the two time periods I considered.  On the one hand, the 1960s could avoid the idea of under age drinking because the age was 18 back then (in the state of Virginia).  The reason why I mention this is because there was a plot point that I...really don’t want to have to avoid all because the main characters don’t drink.  I think I pretty much solved this dilemma in this chapter though, without underage drinking (even if I had to do so in a bit of an unrealistic way, sorry about that). Additionally, there would be no cell phones 1960s to ruin the story (as they call for help).  On the other hand, it also means I cannot use modern day slang, ideas, memes, and etc....I think I’ve decided to kind of....let this story be in the modern day....possibly.  I don’t know, I just might change my mind later.  The struggle is real. 

I may have forgotten a few author notes, in which case I apologize beforehand. 

FINALLY, I dedicate this chapter to my dear friend, @asktheghosthost .  Thank you for always listening, thank you for all the good times and good stories we’ve made together, thank you for reblogging these story chapters, thank you for pulling me back in the Haunted Mansion fandom...and thank you for helping to inspire this story.   

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Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, domestic violence, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

This chapter: underage drinking (except not really.  You’ll understand when you get to it)

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Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7

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CH 8:  Dust and Ashes

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All of my life I spent searching the words of poets and saints and prophets and kings

~ Now at the end all I know that I've learned is that all that I know is I don't know a thing

~Dust and Ashes, from Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812.  

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Karen pulled the blanket closer to her as they descended downward.  It was warmer in the stairway, but only just so; the more they descended, the closer the temperature got to the frigid room she’d woken up in previously.

“…Mr. Mortimer…I’m confused.”

“I can’t blame you none for that.  I’d probably be the same, were I in your shoes.”

He kept pace beside her, his cane ticking with every step.

“What I meant was: Why are we going down?  Shouldn’t we be going up?”

“We’re already up as high as we can get, young’un.  Nowhere for us to go but down.”

“Wha--?”

She stopped, and Mr. Mortimer’s cane clicked to a halt as he, too, stopped a little ways in front of her.

“Where was that?  The place we were before with all the junk?”

“That would be the attic.”

Karen considered this.

“Mr. Mortimer…why…did you go through all the trouble of carrying me up to the attic?  What was the point if we just have to climb all the way down again?”

Mr. Mortimer chuckled, his gold teeth glistening in the act.  The warmth of his tone, however, hardly made the sight terrifying.  

“I certainly would not have gone through the trouble of gettin’ a living body all the way to the attic…You were already nearby.”

She gaped at him, trying to keep up with his logic.

“But I fell down a chasm of staircases…”

“No, you fell up a chasm of staircases.”

“That’s not even physically possible!”

“Talking about the physical in a house of ghosts, hmm?  Trust me, young’un.  Those sets of staircases you’ve been hanging about in are the very opposite of possible. Don’t think too hard about it, as it doesn’t make much sense even to us.”

He gestured for the two of them to continue, and she numbly caught up to his pace.  

“If I…”  She adjusted the blanket as they walked side by side. “…If I had fallen all the way…”

He frowned.  “…Best not think of things like that.  Won’t do nothing but worry yourself.”

She gave him a startled look, and he returned it with solemn nod.  

She went quiet again for a bit, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.  This stairway, at least, seemed to be relatively normal.  Contained on all sides by walls, yet the rickety nature of it still threatened to trip her should she neglect to watch her step.  Tiny spiders crawled along one of the walls. Tiny red spots on their backs that made them look like drops of blood circulating around them.  

“…I’m sorry I didn’t say it before but…Thank you for saving me, Mr. Mortimer…”

“I’m afraid I can’t take all the thanks, young’un.  Because I’m not the one who stopped yer fall.”

“Then who did?”

Mr. Mortimer paused again, and his gaze followed the trail of spiders.  

All of them, the exact same appearance.  All of them, traveling the exact same lines.  Single Filed.   Mindless and unnatural.  

“Are those really spiders?”  Instantly, she regretted the question, just as she was sure she’d regret the answer.

He sighed.  “No.  They aren’t. But that’s a right hard topic to talk about, and I ain’t too sure it’s my place to say.  We better press on.”

His tone suggested that he’d prefer a change in subject, and his cane clacked as he continued forward again.

But Karen lingered a while by the spiders, watching them go from one end of the wall to the other. Black beady bodies with bright red spots each.  A larger one was lingering above the traveling group with the same shade on its hairy exoskeleton as all the rest.  

She looked from the tiny creatures lining the wall to the little bites that still lined her hand. These had to have been the same sort of spiders that fixed the window…and the floor…and attacked her for trying to interfere with their work.  

The spiders stopped.  Unanimously and simultaneously, they all turned towards her and lifted up their front two legs.  

She took a startled step backwards.  

“I’m sorry!”  She said, wondering if they actually understood her.  Her legs compelled her on to catch up to Mr. Mortimer, and a quick glance behind her told her that the spiders resumed their mindless trek once again.  

“They’re so creepy…” She muttered as she was once again beside him.  

“That they are,” The skeletal Mr. Mortimer said.  

“Have they always been part of the house?”

“As far as I’m aware. Mr. Gracey told me he remembered seeing some of them back when he was alive, though it’s difficult to say whether they’d been upkeepin’ the house back then the way they do now.”

“How could he…not remember whether there were strange spiders rebuilding the house from underneath his feet?”

Mr. Mortimer gave a snorted laugh.  “If you ever meet Mr. Gracey, I think you’d do well to keep that comment to yerself.”

“I already have, and I already think he doesn’t like me.”

Mr. Mortimer raised an eyebrow at her.  “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“He was just…”  

She thought back to all the memories she had of Solomon Gracey, and the contrast it stood to her own personal experience meeting him.  The resulting earthquake he seemed to summon right then and there in the hallway.  

“…Really grumpy.”  She settled on that, although it seemed a severe understatement.  

“Likely was just angry with that Mr. Claude.  He assumes all mortals that come this way are the result of that man luring them here. And he’s usually right.”

“Mr. Claude?”

“Ah...”  He tutted to himself.  “Sorry.  Tried to remember not to call him that around you; I don’t think he likes the mortals using that name.  But you would know him to be the self-proclaimed ‘Ghost Host’.”

Karen tightened the blanket around herself.  “He has a name?”  

“Just the one.  No surname, no title names, no family names. Just Claude.  Doubt it’s even his real name, the wretch does like his little nicknames, but it’s the only one he’s ever given us to address him.”

The Ghost Host, imagined as a once real and living person.  Even in the one memory where she saw him as a mortal, it was hard to think of him as human. Having something of a name attached to him did almost nothing to wave away the inherent ethereal nature of his existence.  In fact, it almost felt…discomforting that he should have a name at all.

“Him and Mr. Gracey didn’t much like each other even way back when,” Mr. Mortimer continued, “And their fightin’ didn’t get any better in death either.  If anything, it got worse.  Sometimes see them go at each other’s throats like starving bears maulin’ each other over a fresh kill.”  

They stopped at a landing, and Mr. Mortimer opened up the door into another hallway.  

“As it happens, Mr. Claude is the one who likes to lure in unsuspectin’ mortals, and occasionally shows them off to Mr. Gracey because the ol’ wretch knows it will get the master of the house right and proper pissed at him.  Mr. Gracey doesn’t approve o’ tricking mortals into the house, you see. It’s all a lot o’ prime entertainment for Claude. ”

“So Mr. Gracey isn’t really angry at me, then?”

“I’m sure he’s a bit peeved. Mortals shouldn’t hang about here. They can get themselves hurt, and there ain’t much of a good reason for them to be fraternizing with the dead. Leads to all sorts of things, like ghost hunters and….not so good expectations about what it means to die. So I can’t say he’s much happy that you’re here.  But he’s a right sort, a good man, and even though he’s a little, as you say,…”

He gave her an aside, his sea green eyes glittering at her as he smiled.  

“…Grumpy, he won’t hesitate to help you if you’re in need of it.”

They wandered down a hallway that she could only describe as splattered with crimson; red carpets all across the floor, red wallpaper with a strange floral design, and even the lights seem to glow a bit red.  Or maybe that last was simply a trick of the eye.  

Mr. Mortimer suddenly slowed his pace, and as she peered at him she could see his ghostly brow furrowed in concentration.  

“Speaking of, young ‘un…”

The sound of the wind drifted through the halls; strange as it was since there were no apparent windows about.  

“….If anything should happen to me, you’ll need to go and find Solomon.  The wretch Claude will try to stop you, he’ll try to throw illusions to make you go his way, and you’ll need to swallow your fear and go down the scariest looking path to find Solomon. Solomon will help you.”

She was staring at him. “What….do you mean….?”

His eyes squinted; they looked off into the hallway and did not pay her heed “…It seems the wretch is about…Might be comin’ our way…”

“You can tell?”  She tried to look down the hallway as well, but could see nothing out of place.  It got colder; the wind shifted to breeze past her.  

He shifted the hatbox to his cane hand so that he could grab her arm.  

“Quickly now, young’un.” He said, pulling her along back the way they came. “We best be making our way back to the attic.”

“But why?”

“He never goes into the attic.”

And Mr. Mortimer left it at that, a note of finality in his tone that assured her he was not going to give her any other explanation.  

They made their way, at a much quicker pace, down the red rimmed hallway again and back into the stairwell.  He urged her to go up the stairs two at a time, a frantic pace that she was sure she wouldn’t have managed if he had not kindly helped pull up her weight with him. But even as they made it up their way up floors, the stairs seemed dauntingly and sadistically too tall.  

“Can’t understand why he’s this dogged insistent…  Plenty o’ mortals, psychic and not, have come by before and he never seemed this obsessed…What’s different here…?  If I had known…if I had known…Ah, what a fool ya are, Rolly…” Mr. Mortimer muttered to himself.  “Should have kept her in the attic, ya should…”

They made it to their third landing, before she suddenly buckled; an eerie, freezing sensation traced her spine and filled her with dread.  And almost immediately as the feeling came, Mr. Mortimer spun her behind him and….

…And he was thrown against the wall.  

She never saw it coming, for there was nothing to see.  The invisible entity rammed the greenish hued Mortimer up against the wood of the stairwell; she could see Mr. Mortimer struggling against it, his “body” glowing and misaligning and fading a bit as he fought.  She clenched her ears at the horrifying sound it seemed to produce, a cross between a woman screaming, a metal screw turning, and a set of nails rippling down a dry chalkboard.  It penetrated her head.  

Mr. Mortimer seemed to throw his attacker off him, as his feet were then on the floor.  His glow sputtered as he slammed his cane onto the floor in an effortful movement; the screaming chalkboard sound returned again and she stumbled against the wall to hold herself up.  

But it did not seem to last long.  Mr. Mortimer was back and pinned against the wall again, his glowing form turning to glowing fog, and the glowing fog obscuring her from seeing him properly.  

Until the fog cleared, but there was no sign of Mr. Mortimer.  

There was a painting of him instead.  

“Mr…”  She gulped his name back down, afraid of what she was seeing. Her hand shakily reached up to touch the elaborate frame of the perfectly painted portrait of the man who had just been beside her.  

               “Crying for the dead is encouraged in this house.”

There was a twinge of anger that she couldn’t just brush away as she turned to the empty air.  

“What did you do to him?!”

          “Don’t feel so bad. It isn’t as though I killed him.  Merely punished for                                        trying to kidnap you away from me.”

“He wasn’t kidnapping me!”

                “Oh but that is precisely why I have to frame him for it…                       Ahmmh mhmm hmmm ha ha haaaa HA!”

She went back to the portrait.  Mr. Mortimer’s jaw seemed clenched in anger, his eyes glowering.

“Young….un….”  She was surprised to hear a whisper coming from it, barely audible over Claude laughing over his own stupid joke.  

“Solomon…..find….run….harder….to….catch….moving target…”

“But….what about you?” She whispered back.

The edged colors around his face seemed to soften a bit.  “I…am...fine…”

She looked back at the open air; the damnable voice was still laughing as though his greatest enjoyment was to hear himself.  

A quick adjustment of the blanket…Karen took a deep breath….then charged right through the nearby landing’s doorway.  

The Ghost Host stopped laughing.  “Oh? Are we playing the running game now? A bit of cat and mouse?  What fun.”

She spun around the corner of the doorway, but was pulled back for a moment by an invisible force of vice-like cold.  She struggled a moment, trying to twist it off her, before finally shoving off the blanket towards her attacker.  

A tall figure.  

The blanket outlined against a tall figure, where there had previously been nothing before.  Its head was bent in a sickening angle, like the neck had been broken. 

But she did not give herself a pause to absorb this; the grip on her had loosened and she took the opportunity to bolt down the hallway.  

Red carpet, red walls, and as she propelled herself forward, her lungs drinking air, little spider spots came pouring down from the corner edges of the hall.  First in a sprinkling, then in buckets as she traveled onwards.

Mostly, they spilled over the walls themselves, but a few occasionally dropped down from the middle of the ceiling and landed on her head.  She brushed them off, again and again.

Her feet came to a halt at the junction, and her heart skipped a beat to see that one of her optional paths involved statues.  A LOT of statues.  The same kind of statue that had chased her before.  But this path had a whole horde of them, scattered all the way into the darkness of the furthest she could see.  

The other path looked clear.

He’ll try to throw illusions to make you go his way.

Mr. Mortimer’s words rang in the back of her head and she balked.  How was she to know whether this were an illusion or a genuine herd of statue ghosts?  

The shadow of a clawed hand, The Ghost Host’s distinctive chuckle phased in around her.  The shadow claw circled her like a shark, twitching its fingers in anticipation of a single mistake on her part.  

Karen cursed under her breath; not just directed at the Ghost Host, but herself.  For the next thing she knew her adrenaline had already made the choice to charge.  Straight into the hallway of statues.  

It took a few ticks for her mind to catch up with her; the moment she thought this choice wasn’t a bad one after all was on the heels of the moment she noticed the statues were turning to face her.  Grinding sounds of stone on wood and fifty pairs of stone weary eyes straight on her. She dipped and dodged around them, too scared to look back to see if claw hand or statue was following.  

But she could feel them all pressing in around her.  The sounds of scraping surrounding her...then one of her arms got caught. She managed to wretch it away.  

But it happened again….and again…And until the other arm was snagged…and then her waist….her legs…stone hands grabbing her neck…her head….pulling her down with them….the restraints too strong…

She turned to look down the hallway to a vanishing freedom…took a deep breath as much as the stone arms would allow…And yelled:  

“SOLOMON GRACEY!”

The statues froze in their grasp of her.  No longer did they push to pull her to the ground.

And she swore she heard, to her great satisfaction, a grunt of annoyance coming from her long-standing invisible tormentor.  Anything that annoyed the Ghost Host couldn’t possibly be a bad idea.

Sure enough, the walls began to shake.  Vases on nearby corner tables toppled over, specks of dust trickled down from the ceiling. That sickening, cold spine feeling that she was beginning to associate with the Ghost Host began to dissipate…..and the statues started dissipating with it.  One by one, as the earthquake rippled across the hall their forms smudged like a blurry photograph, before disappearing altogether.  

Her body was released and she fell to the floor with a thud.  The feel of rough stone was replaced….with a distinct taste of licorice. She swallowed to try and get the strange, sudden taste from her mouth, but it persisted.  And the earthquake slowly died down.

She was alone and it was fantastically quiet.  

“You…”  A whisper on the air breathed.  She looked up, only to distressingly find a pair of vivid, blue glints glaring down at her from the darkness of the far hall.  

“You shouldn’t be here…” It continued, blue eyes moving towards her.    

It sounded like someone taking in a long, deep breath.  

And there was dust and ash.

Dust and ash….

It was like dust and ash….

Swirling together….coalescing….combining….until she could make out a face….a mouth….a nose….from the dust and ash came also the sleeves of a suit….a hand formed from the particles….legs….a person….

An angry person. A furious person.  

The breath sound that lingered on the wind exhaled just as he was fully realized.

Though she had been rooted in the spot, in awe of watching a ghost forming himself in front of her, her adrenaline was still strongly beating in her veins.  And it was this drive that caused her to stumble back, a frantic yearning to run screaming in her head.  

As he advanced even closer to her, that internal screaming fueled her into dashing down the other hallway.

A candelabra blocked her way.  A floating candelabra.  

Another sound like someone taking a deep breath in….Dust and ash swirled around the candlesticks, the smell of roses, the wax dripping alongside the specks, until the figure of a woman appeared.  Grey eyes, black hair, green dress; the head maid from the memories.  

The breath exhaled.

She, too, advanced towards Karen, candelabra in her now mostly formed, dust dripping hand.

“P-please…” Karen stammered. But she herself wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to ask for.  

Her feet took her down the last hallway, only to be cut off by a third figure.

Deep breath.

Dust and ash…

Dust and ash swirled once more, and a man in a green suite formed.  Birds chirping.  The breath exhaling…The dust settling off his shoulders as he guarded her final escape route and proceeded forward towards her.  

Trapped on all sides. The master from the left, the head maid from the front, and the head butler from the right all converging on to her location, one step after another.  A marked pace that noted they had all the time in the world to reach her.

And what would they do once they’ve accomplished this? She pressed her back against the wall, sliding gradually down to the ground as her head whipped from one of the trio to the other and the other.  Her breath heaving in her ears.  From Mr. Mortimer’s descriptions, she had imagined something much friendlier.  Than again, she also had never imagined Mr. Mortimer was dead.  

“No more running,” Mr. Gracey said with a sneer.

Right as she could see the hem of the maid’s dress a few feet from her eyes, she shut them tight. Waiting for…something to happen.  The uncomfortable nothing that followed made her squint her eyes open once more.  

They were just standing there.  Waiting.

“You...really don’t need to do that….” Mr. Gracey said, frowning down at her.  

“Do….what?” She breathed, finally releasing the breath she’d been holding in.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Act as though you’re about to face your own execution.”

“Well how am I supposed to react then?!  You make a show of…of forming yourself all angry like that and just…”  She stammered.  Her nerves were too frazzled for this.  “I only just avoided a bunch of statues grabbing me and…!  And that Ghost Host taunting me and….and the running and…and earthquakes…”

She looked up at him again with the strongest glare she could muster.  Solomon looked unimpressed.

“I don’t care what Mr. Mortimer says about you.  You could have at least told me what you’re going to do to me after you finish chasing me!  I don’t know what you want!”  

“What I want is for you to leave my house.”

She gave a side glance to his posse before turning back to him.  “Alive or dead?”  She said, with no small amount of sarcasm in it.  

“Considering that dead would result in you NOT leaving my house, I would assume you already have your answer,” he said, the sarcasm almost as equally strong.  

She exhaled through her nose. “Then you could have just told me that like a normal person!”  

“Honestly, all of you dead people don’t even remember how to act nicely…” she muttered under her breath as an aside to herself.  

He must have heard that, because he stiffened considerably and looked more than a bit miffed.

“It’s done on purpose, child,” his eyes narrowed at her, “Just a little intimidation to scare you from any ideas about ever coming back.  I will admit, though, you reacted a bit stronger than I anticipated...”

“Well yeah!  Because you’ve just wasted your time!  I’ve already seen PLENTY to convince me to never come back to this horrible place ever again!  Evil murderous invisible men, statues that chase you, people coming out of the walls, falling down giant chasms full of staircases-“

“You fell down that infinite stairway?” The woman interrupted, looking more than a little bit concerned.  

“Yes.  Not long after I met you back in that other hallway,” she said, jutting out her chin accusingly at Mr. Gracey.

To Solomon’s credit, he looked downright horrified.  Which was a nice change from his usual sour demeanor.

“Good lord, is that where you went previously? Are you all right?” He asked.  

“Yes….No…I mean. I don’t know!  I’m alive and everything seems to work…”

He gave a sigh that suggested both relief and frustration.  “This is exactly the reason you need to leave. It’s too dangerous for the living to go skipping about these halls without a care in the world.  Now child, if you wo-“

“Karen.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She stared him down, unflinching even as she held the gaze of those eerily, glow-y blues.  At this point, she was beyond tired of getting pushed around by ghosts.  

“My name is Karen. Karen Anderson.  And I’m eighteen.”

“How good for you,” he said with a wry smile.  “And I am well over a hundred.  So you’ll have to forgive me if I cannot help but see you as a child, Miss Anderson.  Nonetheless, I do apologize if I have caused you any offense.  I meant it merely as a descriptor, and not as any indication that you are somehow lesser.”

One hand folded behind his back and the other hand over his heart, he gave her a short incline of his head.

“Allow us, further, a chance for introductions. I am Solomon Gracey, and this is my family estate. Primary estate, that is.”

He gestured to the other two spirits.  “My associates….”

“Abigail Galloway,” The maid said, giving her a polite smile that would feel friendly if it didn’t seem a little too polite.

“Edgar Galloway,” The butler said, making neither a bow nor a smile.  For all the world, he seemed straight up bored.  After regarding her carefully with a quick glance, he went right back to stand there with a distant gaze.  

By the shapes of their faces, and their matching names, eyes, and hair, the two were most definitely related.  

Solomon coughed, and her attention returned to him.  He offered a hand.  She stared at it blankly.

His lips twisted a bit into a mischievous, almost boyish smirk.  “To help you to your feet.  Which I know are still working…because I just saw you use them.”

She opened her mouth to give a smart aleck retort, but realized she had nothing.  So she begrudgingly took his hand instead.  Freezing cold, like ice.  Something she had already come to expect by now.

“Come along, then,” he said, releasing her as soon as she was steady on her feet to turn and walk down the way he originally came.

She could feel the two servants pressing closer to her; they weren’t going to give her an opportunity to disobey.

They walked silently and casually.  Karen couldn’t shake off the feeling that their pace was measured and set specifically for her, because any hesitance on her part was met and matched by them.  Even Solomon, who was facing forward, seemed to eerily slow-down whenever she did.  That did more to evidence the fact that this was a supernatural situation than even their appearance; unlike Mr. Mortimer, who had a skeletal, glowing visage to him, these three people seemed to make every effort to give off the illusion they were alive.  

“Um…” she started, looking at the back of Mr. Gracey’s head.

When he did not pay her heed, she turned to the maid beside her instead.  Abigail smiled with a strange mixture of motherly affection, strict politeness, and a tinge of pity.  

“Something wrong?” She asked.

“What about Mr. Mortimer?”

Abigail frowned. “What about him?”

Karen looked nervously towards the back of Solomon’s head and then back to Abigail.  

“The Ghost Host trapped him in a portrait in a stairwell.”

Solomon spun quickly to face her, forcing the party to halt.  

“Claude did what?”

Rumbling in the walls nearest to her made her ease a step back.   The boards shook, but it wasn’t nearly as disorienting or terrifying as before.

She could see his hand shaking, fingers slowly furling into a fist then releasing.  The walls seem to respond to that, working up in a frenzy with each tremble of his hand, getting stronger with every moment they closed in on themselves.  And finally settling down, when his fingers gently unfurled themselves to a relaxed state.

“Miss Anderson…” he said, his voice struggling towards calm, “Would you…be so kind as to describe what this stairwell looked like?”

“Um…” her body tensed a moment, regardless of the fact that he was clearly not angry at her. “Narrow...creaky old wood steps…thin railings… and it was all enclosed by purple striped pattern on the walls.  It was down that way…”

She gestured vaguely the way she came.

Mr. Gracey listened intently to her, face as expressionless as he could obviously muster.

“Edgar,” he said.

“Sir,” Edgar replied.

But when Karen turned to look at the butler, he was gone.  She turned to look towards Abigail, who smiled politely back at her.

“He’s gone to help Mr. Mortimer,” she said.

“More of a courtesy to him,” Mr. Gracey said, and already he had turned to continue on. “Mr. Mortimer is powerful; he’s likely already freed himself by now.  Something like this could only ever hold him temporarily, where lesser souls would be forced to spend weeks.  Which means Edgar is mostly only going to inform Mr. Mortimer that you’re safely with us.”

“So…he’ll be okay?” At the maid’s non-verbal urging, she followed Solomon.

“He’ll be just fine. Don’t worry,” Abigail said.

They walked in silence after that; Karen was given time to think things over as they passed oak doors and flickering electric lights caked in cobwebs.  

The taste of licorice. The smell of roses.  These were sensations that had been clinging to her from the moment the spirits appeared.   The soft sigh of birds singing disappeared when Edgar vanished.    

Claude too.  It dawned on her that whenever the Ghost Host was around, she’d feel a tingling down her spine.  Mr. Mortimer always seemed to carry the smell of the sea.  And the statue had that horrible burnt smell.

Spirits, it seemed, came with some sort of identifying sense.  

She broke out of her reverie when they stepped into a room bathed in a familiar dull blue-green light. A slight panic bubbled up within her at the sight of stairways going any which way possible.

“Wait…why are we here? What are we doing??”  The panic snuck into her voice too.

“This is the fastest way back to the foyer,” Mr. Gracey replied, before taking a stairway straight down.

As in, the stairway was literally going vertically down, with the ghost before her now walking with his form completely horizontal.  

The maid seemed prepared to press her towards the same path, but she balked and backed up.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me!” she accused, looking back and forth between Abigail and Solomon.

“We aren’t trying to,” Solomon said, already having turned to look up at her.  Neither his tone nor his face suggested maliciousness.  

“Then what do you call this?!” She gestured to the sheer drop.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he walked towards her, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. “It’s ironic that mortals, so grounded in reality, would fall prey so easily to the illusions of the dead.  You trust your eyes too much; not all believing comes from seeing.”

On that advice, Karen took an experimental step.  She could feel her weight shifting, her stomach dropping with the gravity, her body threatening to fall forward, and every nerve in her body screaming at her that this was suicide.  Her mind “helpfully” played out for her the fresh memory of her fall in her head.  

“No…No I can’t do this. I can’t do this!” She made to back away several steps, but Abigail kept her in place.

Karen turned to her. “Please, I can’t do this!  I ca-”

“It’s all right.”

“Don’t make me do this, please! Don-“

“Miss Anderson,” Mr. Gracey said, and he was already back on their stairway.  The stairway with the CORRECT stairway orientation.

“Please, I just had a fall, I can’t—“

“You won’t fall.  And if you do, I’ll catch you.”  Mr. Gracey said.

“I can’t! I know gravity when I feel it!  That isn’t just a trick of the eyes!”

“Miss Anderson, please. You won’t fall. I give you my word: As long as you remain with me, I won’t let you die.”

She looked from the maid still holding her to Gracey, who gave her a small smile of reassurance.

That did not make her feel better.  She turned to Abigail, and there must have been pleading in her eyes because Karen could see her slowly relent.

“Here,” Abigail said kindly, turning her around.  The feeling of cold fingers on her eyes. Karen’s sight went dark.

“Wha-?”

“Just step to the edge,” Abigail whispered at her ear.  It was a bit unnerving to know that ghosts had frigid cold fingers, yet somehow (someway) managed to have hot breath.  As if ‘breathing’ was even a thing with them.

“But I ca-“

“Just relax and step towards the edge.  I’ll let you know when you’ve arrived there.  If you cannot stand to go further than the edge, then we’ll find another way,” her voice had hints of softness despite the formal tone, “But try this first.”

“And if you’re just leading me straight off…?”  It was a doubtful statement, but one that still managed to worm into the back of her mind.  

“She’s not,” Mr. Gracey said.  

She took a few experimental steps forward, completely blind.  Solid wood met her feet each time.  

“It’s all right; go a little further,” Abigail encouraged.

So she took a few more steps, larger steps this time, and still met solid wood.  She also met with the realization that her ghostly companions made no footsteps; only HER steps rang against the chasm-like walls.

And yet, they HAD to still be there; she could still feel ice fingers covering her eyes. Her eyelids, in fact, were getting a little numb from it.  

She took a few steps further, smaller this time because she was quite sure the edge would be there, and yet once again met with solid wood.  Perhaps the direction change was farther along the path than it originally looked.  Dimensions really were difficult to discern when you couldn’t see a thing.  

“Where’s the drop?  Is it much farther?”  

“Keep going; we aren’t quite there yet.  Take a few more full steps.”

She did as she was told, her shoulders heaving as her anxiety calmed down.  And she continued to walk (tapping her foot experimentally in front of her before putting all her weight into it), until Abigail suddenly tugged her back a bit to stop her.  

She could hear a door slam shut behind her, and she twisted to escape Abigail’s grasp.  The maid let her go without a fight.  

…Karen blinked.  She stared at the sight long enough for Mr. Gracey to delicately raise an eyebrow at her.

“Are you all right?” He questioned, and there was a tug at the very corner of his lips that threatened to tease over into slight amusement.

Gobsmacked, she stared at him, then back to the scene in front of her.  

She was in the first hallway.  The very FIRST hallway.  The hallway where the Ghost Host took Michael away from her.  

“But…the stairway…” She looked around and spotted a door in the dark corner of the hall, across the way from the stretching room.  She was sure she had tried that same door much earlier that night; it had been locked before then.  

“You already made it through.  Alive, no less.  I guess we’re not very good at killing people, are we?”

His voice was dripping in sarcasm, and it both irked and amused her to the point where she, again, tried to find a clever response.

But her mental exercise was interrupted as the aforementioned door banged back open with much enthusiasm.  

Nell Jackson, green pinstripe dress and all, stood in the doorframe, excitement frozen on her face at the sight of Karen as if she weren’t quite expecting her.  Karen was sure the ghosts would remark on this, but they stood still and said nothing.

“Oh is it a party?” Nell cheerfully said, bounding into the room and shutting the door behind her.  Karen caught a glimpse of twisted staircases encased in green light.

“Nell, what’s that all over your dress?”  Abigail sternly said.

“Hm?” Nell picked a speck of dull grey from her apron.  “Oh. It’s just a bit of sand.”

She did a twirl with gleeful grin on her face, and the sand fell off all in a circle around her.

“NELL!” Abigail cried, looking insulted.

“What??”

“The carpet!”

Nell looked down at the ground, faux inspecting the carpet.

Karen did a double take. Had there ALWAYS been carpet in this hallway?  She thought there had only been floorboards before.

“Good news!  The carpet doesn’t seem harmed by it.”  Nell said.

“You’re still going to pick that up, young lady,” Abigail seethed through her teeth.  

“I can do that later.”

“Nell.”

“What?  It isn’t like the sand is going anywhere.  Sand isn’t sentient…” a beat, “…I think.”

Abigail gave a pointed look at Solomon, who in turn looked a little uncomfortable.  

“It’s just sand, Abigail. It won’t stain,” he said.  

Abigail gave him a hard stare akin to betrayal, and he coughed before venturing into the stretching room.

“Come along chil- erm, Miss Anderson.”

She made to follow him, but dust and ash swept across the floor, and as she stood to watch she saw Edgar appear from the flurry.  

“Edgar!  Perfect timing.  Help me clean up this sand,” Nell said, smiling.

Edgar gave one, long, bored stare at the mess on the ground before returning to a flurry of dust and ashes, particles picking up particles and the sand coalescing right into him.  

“What?  No!  Edgar, stop that!” Abigail said.  

Edgar half formed himself, just enough so that his face was showing.  Eyebrows raised at Abigail in quiet confusion.

“Thank you, Edgar. You’re the best!”  Nell smiled cheerfully at him.

“Nell, you needed to clean up the mess.” Abigail said.

“As long as it’s clean, why does it matter? And really, I wouldn’t have ever been able to do it that fast.  Besides, Edgar doesn’t mind.  Do you, Edgar?”

“I don’t care.” Edgar said, glassy bored look already returning to his features as he reformed himself.

“You see?  It all works out!” Nell gestured towards Edgar.

Abigail gave a long-suffering sigh.  “You disappoint me, Nell.”

“Well that isn’t unusual.”

“Nell…” Abigail sighed again, before finally turning to Karen and gestured her to enter the next room.

Karen gulped away her questions under the gaze of the still-irritated Abigail and went inside; the silly little drama of what she just saw was in stark contrast to the life threatening fear the Ghost Host had constantly subjected her to.  

Solomon Gracey was waiting for them in the center of the room.  He nodded in acknowledgement as the rest of the party joined him.  

And what a stark contrast that was here as well.  The room had changed since she’d last seen it; the differences were minor, yet remarkable in how they affected the mood.  The gargoyles looked less threatening due to the fact that the room was lit up brighter, and the portraits had reverted back to their original, un-stretched appearance.  It was just as cold as earlier, but infinitely less creepy.  She couldn’t feel the gaze of the hanging man hidden above them, and the general air didn’t feel nearly as oppressive as a result.

As strange as it was, she felt safer, in spite of the fact that this time she walked alongside practical strangers.

They came back to the foyer, and as she turned to look behind her she paused.

“….Wasn’t the portrait room on the other side?”

It was true.  She distinctly remembered Michael and herself being forced by the Ghost Host into a room to the left of Solomon Gracey’s portrait.  Yet as they exited this very same room, they came out to the right of the portrait.  

She checked; nothing but a blank wall to the left of Solomon’s painted visage.  

“Ah.  Well you see…” Abigail said, hesitant.

“The house moves rooms,” Nell interjected, grinning excitedly as she hoisted herself up one of the cabinets, “Isn’t it cool?”

“The house does what?” Mouth open and eyes wide, Karen stared back at her.    The word ‘cool’ was the furthest thing from her mind.

“What the house does or does not do is of no concern to you.  You’ll be on your way back to town shortly…as soon as we find your friend,” The actual Solomon turned towards her, “There is another mortal roaming around the house, correct?”

“Y-yeah… My boyfriend, Michael.  We were separated when that Ghost Host dragged him underneath the floorboards.”

A flick of anger on his face sprung up before fading into sympathy.

“I am sorry about that. That filth is known to do things like that,” his stare towards her hardened just a tad, “I do hope this act as a lesson to you both not to intrude upon old houses, even if you think they’re abandoned.”

Now it was her turn to get a little angry.  “We weren’t intruding!!  We were just….we were just lost!  And it was raining! And…”

She caught sight of Nell, happily sitting on the counter and eating from a jar of cookies.   The sight irritated her a little more.

“And she!”  Karen pointed an accusing finger at Nell.  “She said we could come visit her if it ever started raining!”

All three ghosts slowly turned to look at Nell, who suddenly stopped mid bite.  Both Abigail and Solomon had their eyebrows raised in the same exasperated expression.  Edgar just continued to look bored.

Nell, still mid bite, looked from both Karen to the spirits and back again, before raising her head solemnly.

“Well I never said you could come in.”  Nell said, quickly eating the remainders of her cookie as defiantly looking as she could.

“Wha—“ Karen began to protest, but Nell cut her off by wagging her finger towards her.

“Ah ah ah!  I never said you both could come in!  Now did I, Edgar?  Edgar was there; what did I say to them, Edgar?”

The other two ghosts now turned their exasperated sights on Edgar, who took it in stride by looking especially bored.

“’If you’re ever in an unfortunate rainstorm, you’re more than welcome to hide underneath our awning.’” Edgar quoted.

Nell was triumphant as she turned back to Karen.  “There, you see?  I never gave you permission to use the front door, now did I?”

Karen glared at her.

Abigail, meanwhile, glared at Edgar

“You never thought to inform us of this?”

Edgar, with an utterly neutral expression, simply replied, “It did not seem important.”

“Edgar,” Abigail seethed.

“Nell,” Solomon groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Master Gracey,” Nell said, tone treating the name-calling like a game.

“None of this ‘Master Gracey’.  We talked about this,” Solomon said, looking a little more irritated, “You are not my servant and I am not your employer.”

“As you say, sir.”

Solomon grumbled on his way to a cabinet that looked like it had a wooden, intricate box built on top of its surface.  When he took out a glass with a bulge in it and a strange, ornate decanter filled with eerie green liquid, Karen assumed it to be some sort of cubby hole for drinks.  

“Abigail, Edgar,” he gestured to them aimlessly as he set up some extravagant drink that involved a strainer, what looked like a cube of sugar, water, and that sickly green stuff. “Could one of you be so kind as to find that other wayward mortal?”

“As you wish, sir,” Edgar stated, and he faded nearly instantly into whispy ash before vanishing completely.

“I could go too,” Nell offered.

“No, Nell.  If I know you, you’d only hinder any effort to actually retrieve him.”  

Solomon settled into an armchair that Karen swore hadn’t been there a moment ago.  It was only a handful of feet away from the fireplace, and so faded that you only just barely make out its deep red color.  

“What you could do, instead,” Solomon continued, “Is to get rid of that uniform and wear....well whatever it is modern mortals wear these days. Jeans and t-shirts, if I recall the words correctly.”  

“You let Abigail go around in the uniform, even though she’s not your servant anymore either…”

Nell crossed her arms, but the ghost of a smile on her lips suggested that this had been brought up before. And her eyes occasionally darting towards Karen brought with it the implication that she was only mentioning it for the benefit of their guest.  

Sure enough, Solomon stiffed in his chair, and Abigail looked just as equally uncomfortable as she busied herself with straightening papers on a nearby shelf.

“Nell,” Solomon warned, his tone deeper now.

“Alright, alright.  I see how it is.”

Nell made to cross the room, but lingered out of Solomon’s sight.  Karen caught sight of her gesturing to get her attention before pointing to the two ghosts, bringing her two fists to gently bump into each other while making a kissy face and giving a wink.  

Karen stared hard back. What the hell did the girl expect her to do with this information?

Her staring morphed to horror when Nell took off her maid’s headpiece and made a sign as if to throw it at Solomon.  Before Karen even had a chance to vocalize a sound, the headpiece went flying, phased straight through the middle of Solomon’s forehead, and landed quite obviously in front of him.

“Head shot!  Yes!”  Nell said while she fist pumped the air.

Solomon angrily shot out of the chair and spun to face Nell.

“Going, going, gone!” Nell said, grinning in that guiltless nervous way people get when they’re caught doing something they shouldn’t.

She quickly exited out a door so hidden by the darkness that it was a wonder if it had itself materialized like these ghosts were known to do.

Solomon sighed, his anger abating as he settled back down in the chair and stared wistfully at his drink.

“God, I wish alcohol still affected me,” he muttered as he took a sip.

As he lowered his drink, he seemed to notice Karen was still standing.  He motioned to the faded couch next to him.  

“You’re allowed to sit, you know,” he said, smirking a little, “I imagine you’d need it after that self-induced workout you gave yourself while trying to evade us earlier.”

Karen clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response even as her face burned a little out of embarrassment.  She officially hated ghosts.  

 She instead focused her complete attention to the dead embers lying in the fire, her hands absentmindedly rubbing against her arms.

“Are you cold?” Abigail asked, coming back towards them.

“A little…”

“I imagine any mortal would feel quite cold around here,” Solomon said, getting up to move towards the fireplace.

“I’ve got that, sir,” Abigail curtly interrupted.  

Solomon moved back to his chair, palms raised in surrender with a slightly amused smile on his face, “As you say, Abigail.  Thank you.”

The fireplace roared up in a flicker of odd green flames, and the room began to grow wonderfully warmer. The remnants of anxiety faded as she sank into the couch, relaxation causing her mind to drift a bit.  She felt the weight of exhaustion start to consume her, and she idly wondered what time it was.  Her eyes wandered about, but were no apparent clocks anywhere on the walls.  

She considered Solomon’s drink on the table near her.  It didn’t have its greenish hue; it was more of a milky white with only a hint of green, and already halfway gone.

“How do ghosts even drink?” She asked in her absentminded state.

“Very carefully,” Solomon replied, with both sarcasm and a smile.

“But you can’t get drunk…”

“Such is the tragic nature of not having a body to intoxicate.”

“So what’s the point?”

Solomon took a sip, and made a show of smacking his lips as he stared into the pale liquid.

“Nostalgia,” He said, putting the glass back on the table.

She stared at the drink. “What even is that?”

“Absinthe,” he said, “Or the Green Fairy, as it was once known.”

He seemed to regard her as she remained transfixed by the glass.  

“…Would you care for some?”

Her eyes grew wide at the offer.

“I’m only eighteen! Also, doesn’t...that stuff...cause hallucinations?”

Solomon’s smile bent at the edges a bit, and he looked towards Abigail.  She was neatly standing near the other end of the couch from them both; she had been so silent that Karen had temporarily forgot she was even there.

“While I won’t lie; there were plenty of things we consumed back then that probably caused hallucinations,” Abigail stood with her hands clasped behind her back, a small quirk to the side of her lips, “But absinthe was not one of them.”

“At least, it’s not possible to get that effect with any amount you could feasibly drink,” he smiled bitterly, “Trust me on this.”

“This may be one of your only chances to try it,” Abigail added, “Since, currently, it’s very much misunderstood in America.  That’s where your hallucination idea comes from.”

Karen looked back at the drink, her stomach queasy just staring at it.  

“I…” she started. Solomon held up a hand to stop her.

“Please don’t feel like you have to drink it.  You will not be missing much, I promise.  It’s just another alcoholic drink, and you can get plenty of those once you’re older.  I personally find it rather ridiculous that they increased the drinking age, but I respect that you aren’t comfortable with this.  And if it will make you feel better…”

He made to get up, but Abigail was already on her way back to the drink cabinet.  So he sat back down with a nearly unreadable (but distinctly defeated) expression.  

The maid returned with something that looked just like Solomon’s glass; milky white.  She offered it to Karen, but Karen hesitated to take it.  

“This one isn’t alcoholic,” Abigail explained, “It’s made by a brewery in France, on special request and using the same kind of anise.  As a result, it doesn’t taste exactly the same, but it has some of the same notes…”

Karen stared at it, wondering if she could not find shapes within the milky white liquid.  The inkling of an idea had begun to gather at the edges of her mind, but the hazy warm room and the fact that it was likely the dead of night made it difficult to properly think.  She kind of wanted to just sleep.  

“Pomegranates...” She said.

The ghosts both looked perplexed, briefly side glancing each other before resting their eyes back on her.

She tried to gather her thoughts a little better so she could spit them out.

“In the story, there was a girl who had been kidnapped to the underworld and was tricked into eating the seeds of a pomegranate, forcing her to-“

“-To remain there, trapped, for several months every year.  The story of Persephone.” Abigail smiled, “It is good to hear that present day mortals are still taught classic Greek mythology.”

“But your concern is a little misplaced,” Solomon added, a glint in his eerie blue eyes akin to an adult humoring a young child, “The food and drink here is not somehow magical.”

“And that would also be a little counterproductive to our goal of getting you to leave…”

“Oh yeah…” Karen said, trying to frown away her exhaustion.  She partially wished she was still in that bed in the attic.

 “Besides, this is not the underworld and I am not Lord Hades.” Solomon said, stealing another sip from his drink before setting it aside.

“This is nothing more than a mansion,” he said, gesturing around him, “which, for better or for worse…just happens to be haunted.”

She nodded to him; it was a bit of a foolish idea. If she had a little coffee, perhaps she would have thought things through a little clearer. Carefully, unwilling to trust herself, she used both of her hands to take the cup from Abigail and brought it to her lips.

                                                             ….

                                                 It tasted of licorice.

[harveywritings92]

Dick Grayson x Older! Reader ch 3

The following is a non profit fan based story Batman, Red hood, Nightwing etc. belongs to DC Comics please support the official release.

_

I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs  and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

Dick falls for his babysitter who's three years older then him.

Dick ages 9-13-19/20 

Reader ages 12-16-23  

a few nights later...of the two avoiding each others existence...

Dick didn't get much sleep lets just say he had a rather interesting dream about Y/n, it involved he and Y/n in the pool and she was wearing this very tiny bikini and they did little more than just swim. Dick let out a tiny groan, once he realized what just happened he shot up out of bed, and ran to his bathroom for a very cold shower. "what is wrong with me?!" he spat leaning against the tiled wall trying to clear his head...

He shouldn't be thinking about Y/n like that! he has a girlfriend! he felt dirty and ashamed...Dick doesn't know how he'll be able to look Y/n in the eyes after this! It was stupid anyways, as if she go for him! she was three years older then him! the h/c just sees Dick as a little kid a nothing more! those kisses she gave him were just flukes!...it meant nothing...totally nothing.. 

Sure enough, Dick had rough time looking Zatanna and Y/n in the eyes (not that he and Y/n weren't already avoiding each other.) and if anyone called him out on it. he would go into a nonsensical rant until the subject dropped or chalked it up to him being tired, Y/n suggested to Bruce that the boy stopped drinking Gatorade before bed, Which confused the billionaire why she wasn't telling Dick herself "are you angry with each other?" He asked wondering what caused a rift between the two teens.

Y/n avoided the question or changed the subject...Bruce cocked a brow a thought back to two weeks ago...How out of it Dick was acting he would get flustered and sigh...

The raven haired man's eyes widened, one of them must have finally made a move, or said something about the obvious romantic tension between them! and both parties didn't take it well, considering the crappy timing; Y/n just got out of a relationship and Dick is currently in one...Bruce rubbed his temples and sighed he decided to let the kids sort this out for themselves.

A few weeks later things sort of went back to normal...

Except, Dick got a big shock when he came home to Bruce and Alfred congratulation Y/n about something, she noticed him watching them confused. "Oh Dick! I'm so glad to see you,I was just so excited! I drove over here!" She hugged him confusing the younger teen even more as to why she was talking to him. "I submitted an essay for a foreign exchange program! I'm going to London!" Dick's mouth felt dry as an odd feeling settled in his chest. "For how long?" he asked trying not to sound panicked as he gawked at the h/c girl.

"Until I graduate." Y/n said without hesitating Dick got oddly quiet and just went up stairs without saying anything, despite Bruce and Y/n calling after him, but he ignored them. he spent most of his time hull up in his room or at mount Justice with the team; who quickly picked up on his bad mood.

Wally finally asked what was up "Y/n is leaving.." Dick mumbled listlessly as the speedster tried to remember who Y/n was...when the light-bulb went off, he snapped his fingers "Oh right, your hot nanny!" he said earning a cold glare from Artemis who was walking by his room. "She's not my nanny!" the raven haired boy growled angrily causing Wally to put his hands up, and he closed his room door so no one bothered them then turned to his friend.

"Okay...Attractive not nanny is leaving because?" he cocked a brow at the younger teen who frowned "She got accepted by some foreign exchange program at her school and won't be back till after graduation..." Dick mumbled pulling his knees to his chest...Wally observed his friends body language and set jaw his nose was a little red he couldn't see his eyes because of the sunglasses but, had feeling that they were swollen and not from allergies.

"Dude..Do you love her?"

Robin snapped his head up and glared at the speedster. "What kind of stupid question is that? she's my friend! of course I.."Wally cut the younger teen off. "I don't mean love in a friendly way...I mean like how I care about Artemis." the younger teen blanched and shook his head "n-No! that just..nuts! besides I'm with Zee..."he said with a nervous laugh trying to throw Wally off, but the speedster frowned obviously not buying it.

"And I failed a math test on Wednesday, your turn." 

"She...she kissed me twice."

"Now were getting somewhere..."

Robin ended up telling Wally everything that's been going on with his life. the feelings he's been having for Y/n. how he and Zatanna have been fighting a lot lately. how he nearly went off the deep end when Y/n almost got assaulted, than she drunkenly kissed him, second time was after spending a day out together trying to keep her mind off her ex, but Y/n freaked out and ran before he could talk to her, it was weird seeing Robin so serious about something that wasn't mission related.

"And...How long have you felt this way dude?" Wally asked clearly concerned for them, It's obvious Y/n felt something for raven haired teen, Robin hadn't noticed, but Wally didn't miss the way the h/c would steal glances at the boy wonder, and she wouldn't have kissed him if she hadn't, people tend very truthful and assertive when they're drunk. 

"I think since the first time I met her...it was like she made everything in the world just stopped a moment..." the speedster resisted the urge snicker that was cheesy..."And Zee never made you feel like that?" It's a good thing these rooms are sound proof, the magician would be upset if she heard them. "Don't get me wrong I felt a spark when we started going out, but I'm not so sure about us anymore..." The boy wonder mumbled. "She's a good girlfriend...but, I think we're better off as just friends."

It's true. it was no secret both Robin and Zatanna have been having problems lately. the team could hear them arguing in the halls, it was either about each others attitude, or her hanging around the Demon or Him cancelling dates or standing her up for patrol. because the villain of the month escaped and Batman needed him. then one of them would apologize and act like nothing happened then the cycle would start all over again. both teens were pretty much at the end of their ropes.

"And besides even if me and Y/n got together it's would be trouble she's 16 and I'm 13."

"And it's only three years bro, not that big of an age gap and...wait! Transformers 4!" Dick looked at the ginger confused. "does Gotham have Romeo and Juliet laws?" he inquired curiously Dick shook his head.

"Wally that's in Texas, and even if Gotham did, I would have to be 14 have my dad's permission for that to work out." 

"Dang, you did your research..." The speedster sighed as Robin hummed "comes with the job...In case of kidnappings and runaways..." He sighed Wally gasped "No." the raven haired boy cut him off before he say it, The last thing Dick wanted was a scandal and media storm of [Bruce Wayne's adopted son runs off with tutor!] that would be a Vicki Vale field day and a man hunt waiting to happen.

"Yeah, now that I think about it that is a terrible idea." Wally sighed they were pretty much stumped..."Well when is she leaving?" the green eyed boy asked "day after tomorrow Bruce is throwing a party for her." Dick mumbled the ginger hummed watching his friend sulk. 

"You should just tell her how you feel bro." Dick whipped head around and looked at him like he grew three heads. "Did we not just conversation about this?" the younger teen began only for the speedster to to hold his hand up.

"Just, tell her if Y/n feels the same way then wait, if she doesn't then hopefully if she's not scared off or awkward about it...she'll still cherish this friendship you guys share." Robin seemed to think this over for couple moments, Wally's right it's better he's tell Y/n now,  keep it bottled in and regret it after she's gone. "Thanks Wally..." the speedster gave him a thumbs up and went back his homework.

While Robin went to open Wally's door only to find Zatanna about to knock "Uh, hey Zee I was just-" the magician girl cut him off "Rob we need to talk." she said seriously before leading him to the the briefing room, And pretty told him what he was planing to tell her.

Their relationship just wasn't working anymore ,and she can't stay in a relationship if they're gonna argue about the smallest things! it would be better if they just stayed friends. They hugged and parted ways...Now with that said and done. Dick's mind was clear to think about what he was going to say to Y/n...

[pixzie-writes]

The Fallen: Little Lamb

Title: The Fallen

Chapter: Little Lamb

Words: 4981

Summary: The more I know about V, the more I am confused about the nature of him. Who exactly is he? I attempted to resume my life after the wild night, but it did appear to help. I follow V onto some important mission only to be cast aside as a bystander. What can I do to help him? I feel useless.

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus! Had a writer’s block and playing the game helped me clear my mind to where exactly I want the story to go. Please feel free to leave feedback so I can keep writing my story! Thank you!

Prologue | Ch. 1

I stare at the bright neon sign before me, rubbing my hands together as I wait for the man to respond or walk forward. I’m starting to feel the effects of very little sleep, wishing that I stayed in bed. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened. But I also don’t want to think about the worse case scenario if I hadn’t gotten the warning e-mail. Wanting to break the silence, I ask him, “What is this place? Some kind of bar?” He grips his cane and then starts to walk forward, completely ignoring me or probably didn’t hear me. Either way, I roll my eyes and start to follow behind him, not wanting to be left behind out in the open. What if those Nobodies creatures are still lurking the shadows, waiting for me. I shudder at the thought, walking quickly to catch up to him and finally walked into the Devil May Cry building.

When I went inside, there was a man standing over a desk with his back to us, dressed in grey slacks with a red vest over his white collared shirt, completing his look with a black fedora hat and a long black coat. He don’t seem to notice me walking in as he continues his conversation with another man in front of him, sitting in his chair, “Meet your new client,” indicating the tattooed man leaning against the wall next to the entrance with his book out as I stood next to him awkwardly, feeling invisible. I slowly shuffled my way out of the entrance as the long-coat man started to walk towards the entrance, continuing, “Listen. I’m going to go find Lady and Trish. Bring them in on this.”

“Oh come on, you don’t think I could handle this?!” the white-haired man quickly replied, expression filled with disbelief.

“We need all the help we can get. It is a big job, Dante… Big job.”

So this white-haired dude’s name is Dante. I start to get curious on what big job they’re talking about and what does this tattooed man have to do with the business? Devil May Cry…. what kind of business is this Dante guy running? I looked around, trying not to be nosey as the stranger stood before me. I already feel awkward enough, so I was trying hard not to make eye contact with him before he finally decides to break the tension.

“And what is your name, young lady?”

I smile at him, eyes not really following suit, and replied, “[y/n]. [y/n] [y/l/n], sir. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand for him to shake and he took it, giving me a firm business-like handshake.

“J.D. Morrison. Just call me Morrison. Please excuse me; I’m in a bit of a rush to retrieve two more associates of Dante’s. I didn’t want to be rude and ignore your presence.”

“Oh it’s no problem. I’m just… a bystander, I guess?”

“Ah, I see… please excuse me.”

I nodded as I move out of the way of the entrance, letting him pass by. A few moments of awkward silence pass by until Dante finally decides to break the ice, “So, what’s your name?” as he nods towards the tattooed man. He pushes himself off the wall; eyes still glued the door, as he walks towards the desk, replying to him, “’I have no name; I am but two days old…’ Just kidding. You can call me ‘V.’”

Leaning back into his chair, Dante gets right to the point immediately, “Okay, V… why don’t you start by telling me everything you know about this job?”

“A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante.”

“Now that’s a familiar tune… Do you have any idea how many times I heard that same exact line?”

Dante pushes himself off the chair, walking towards the couch sitting near the jukebox, and sat down with crossing his leg. V stared at him as he gathered his thoughts, trying to carefully think what he is going to say next. I don’t know what I’m hearing, but if I were asked if I believe in things like demons before tonight, I would’ve laughed in their face. I still don’t know what am I supposed to feel after earlier tonight. Now I finally know the name of the man who saved me… V. It sounded like a nickname and he’s not quite ready to reveal all of himself yet. The man doesn’t talk much anyways, so I shouldn’t expect anything revealing about him anytime soon. I shift from one foot to another, trying to stay awake as I listen in to their conversation. V continued, “This is…. special.”

“Special?” That got Dante’s attention, but he remains skeptical, “Okay… Special, how?”

“This demon is your ‘reason’…. Your reason for fighting.”

“Okay… Does this demon got a name?”

Suddenly, my cell phone rang and I didn’t notice that it was coming from me until the third ring and those two immediately shifted their attention towards me. I patted my pockets until I finally got to the one that holds my phone. Immediately embarrassed for interrupting them, I quickly managed to stammer out an apology, “S-sorry… Let me take this call.” I quickly walk outside for a quiet moment and to give them a little bit of privacy without them having to hear my conversation. It was my best friend, Lux, calling me and I noticed the time: 4:06 in the morning. I rubbed my eyes, yawning as I push the button to accept the call, holding the phone to my ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Hey you! I came by your place to help with the all-nighter but you’re not here. Where are you?”

“Oh! I went for a bit of a walk. I had to get out of my place and need a breath of fresh air.”

“But it’s rain out…”

“I have my umbrella…. and you know how much I like the rain.”

“Alright, but I have a bit of a late-night snacks here… and ugh much better coffee. Get your butt back here.”

I chuckled and pinched my nose. I’m quite a ways from my apartment, but maybe I can hitch a ride. “Alright,” I finally answer, “I’m on my way. Give me a few minute to start my way back.”

“Okay! Be safe!”

I hung up the phone and put them in my pocket, stretching a bit and shuddering a bit at the cold. I turn around and bumped into V, who was standing right behind me. How long was he standing here? Did he listen to the entire conversation or just a bit of it?

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder to help steady myself. I regained my balance and straightened myself out. “S-so,” I continued, “What happened in there? Did Dante accept the job?”

He nodded, answering, “Yes. We’re to wait for his associates to come back and receive the news of the job.”

“What’s this demon that they have to take down?”

He starts walking ahead, not waiting for me to catch up to him. Not looking back, he quickly replied, “Not something any ordinary human could handle. Not even I could take him down.” I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the idea of demons. I pinched myself quickly; making sure that it’s just a dream. I felt the pain, bit down the tiny yelp, disappointed that this is the reality I’m dealing with right now. I shouldn’t worry about demons right now, anyways. He kept walking, not sure why I’m following right behind him. I jogged up to him to catch up, and breathlessly explained, “I have to go back to my place. My friend is waiting for me there.”

“Let me walk to back to your place then.”

That almost sounded romantic. Normally, I would’ve just told him to go home as I thought I could handle myself. However, with the thought of demons being real and that I am being targeted somehow, I accepted his generosity. I continue to walk close by him, still keeping my guard up at the shadows that might have those things lurking. Waiting for the opportunity to skin me alive, probably. I push the thought to the back of my head. Somehow, though, being nearby V makes me feel safer even though I barely met the man and I have many reasons not to trust him. It almost feels like I have met him before when there’s no way that could be possible. Then I remembered about the e-mail he had sent earlier about my parents. He still hasn’t said anything about them and I want to find out more about them. “V…” I called out, my voice croaking a little. I cleared my throat as I notice V looking back at me, still walking ahead. His creatures were gone, I had noticed. A lot of questions are going through my mind, but one thing that I am determined to get answers for, “What do you actually know about my family?” He slows down to my pace, his hands gripping the handle of his cane as he collects his thought. He seems to be a man with careful words. Probably because he doesn’t want to reveal too much at once or that he doesn’t know how to act around people. Who knows at this point? I wonder if there’s anyone close to him that actually knows him.

“Your lineage… isn’t what you think it is,” he explained. He searches my face for a reaction, but I waited patiently for more information. I’m not going to let him get away with giving me vague answers. He sighs and finally continues, “It’s going to be hard to explain in so little time. When are you free again?”

I gathered my thoughts about today’s schedule. I have to deal with my best friend first then it IS a school night, so I have my classes at my university starting at 9 AM… I think I would like to squeeze in a tiny bit of sleep before that. Everything finishes around 3 to 4 PM for me, depending on transit back to my apartment.

“I’m available in the afternoon… around 4 PM. I’ll be at my apartment by then.”

He nods, resumed walking, and replied, “I’ll stop by around that time.”

I finally got to my apartment door, not noticing that V was no longer following behind me. I turned around expecting him there, but he wasn’t. I was slightly disappointed, but at least I finally got back to my place safely. I fumbled for my keys, finally put the correct key in, and turned the knob as I walk inside. I hear typing in the living room and fresh coffee coming from the kitchen. It smells a lot better than the previous pot I had attempted to make. I really have no idea how I managed to drink the coffee that I make. I close the door and threw my keys into the empty bowl on the counter. Lux heard me coming in, exclaimed, but not once getting up as she continues to type away, “Hey you! Coffee’s fresh. Help yourself!” I chuckle and grab a fresh mug out of the cabinet. I poured myself some coffee and add in my preference of creamer and sugar. Quickly trying to fix my hair to make myself less of a hot mess, I walk to the living room and sat on the sofa opposite of Lux. I sigh as I finally start to relax, unclenching my jaws and relaxing my shoulders from tension. Lux looked up from her screen for a brief second, got back to her screen, and took another second to do a second glance. She shut down her laptop, putting it to the side, and has a concerned look on her face.

“Dude, are you ok?” She questions, “You look like a hot mess.”

I shrugged, “I have very little sleep and thought the walk would help me.”

Lux eyed me for a few seconds, taking the time to decide whether or not she wants to believe me. I honestly can’t straight up lie to her, but I also couldn’t tell her the truth about the demons and V who happens to be able to conjure up animals out of thin air. I still need to try to ask him about how he’s able to do that. There are still things that I don’t understand and I also didn’t want to possibly put her in danger if I told her the truth. If she knows the truth, it could be that the demons are the type to keep their world a secret. I was thinking that perhaps they’d start going after her if she knows the truth about them. I probably watch too many movies, but I don’t want to risk it either.

Finally, she shrugs it off and got up from the couch, stretching her limbs a bit. I let my breath go, not realizing that I was holding it in as she contemplated my answer. “Well, girly. Maybe the coffee isn’t a good idea then. I’ll make you some sleepy time tea. Extra strength!” She remarked as she walks over to me and took my coffee mug. I pouted slightly, but didn’t fight for it either. She’s right, after all. Maybe after all that happened, I’ll be able to sleep the little sleep I could squeeze in before I have to go for my morning class. I decided to get up from my seat, walk over to my bedroom and put on something comfortable. It started raining again, I notice, as I could hear the patter against the window. With Lux here, I don’t think I need to worry about demons going after me in my sleep. Within the next several minutes, I got my sleepy time tea, slipped into my bed, and thought I saw a dark figure sitting outside the tree that looks like a bird. I slipped into a deep slumber before I could think much of anything about it.

I feel a slight tap on the shoulder, causing me to stir from my slumber. I groan softly, rubbing my eyes, and look up to see who is attempting to awake me. Lux stands over me with my usual to-go cup and I could smell coffee coming from the cup. “Rise and shine, beautiful!” I groan and lay back down with the blanket over my head. Lux sets the cup down on my nightstand and then quickly ripped the blanket off me, causing me to shudder to the sudden lack of warmth.

“I said,” she asserted, “Rise and shine!” She gave my butt a smack and then walks over to the blinds to open them all the way. The light slightly hurting my eyes as I attempt to shield them to no avail, cursing at Lux in my head. I sigh and slowly plant my feet on the ground, stretching my back a bit as I roll my neck as well. Once Lux is satisfied with the fact that I am definitely getting up now, she kneeled in front of me, “You know…. You’re actually late to class.” That definitely got my attention as my eyes start to widen up in horror, then quickly get my butt off the bed, going around trying to find my clothes as I exclaimed, “Oh no, oh no! Why didn’t you wake me up?! I thought I had my alarm on.”

“Power was out for some reason…. Everywhere, it seems.”

“Ugh. Great, I’m already behind on assignment and now I don’t want my professors to think I’m definitely slacking off for real this time.”

“Relax, they’ll understand.”

I ignored Lux as I finally found my jeans in the pile of clean clothes that I didn’t bother folding, a tank top folded over my chair, and a cardigan to go with the tank top. I quickly went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and to quickly put my hair in a neat, but easy up-do. I sighed, as I am not quite satisfied with my hair, but have no time to argue with myself about it. Turning on my heels, I notice Lux is smirking as she is leaning against the doorway. “Why are you smirking?” I asked, looking at myself to see if I may have looked a bit ridiculous.

“That’s one way to get you out of bed. You’re actually on time, you got like two hours to get to class.”

I feel a bit relieved, but at the same time, I scowled. “You asshole!” I smacked her shoulders slightly playful, but a bit hard.

“Hey, you weren’t getting up! But I am telling the truth about power being out. Thank god for cell phones, right?”

I went back into the bathroom to really take the time to clean myself up, do my usual morning routine, and possibly have time to be able to stop by a café nearby my university to pick up some breakfast. Lux’s coffee is great, but I like the café’s breakfast better. Time to get my day started as I finally got my hair to cooperate. I walk out the bathroom and grabbed the coffee that was set on my nightstand, and motioned Lux to get out butts moving out of the apartment.

About two weeks passed by, going about my usual routine. I never noticed V anywhere near the area wherever I go, hoping he’d be at least nearby. I gave up on that after about three days, concluding that he might be busy with his business with that Dante guy. We still need to talk about my lineage, but he is no where to be found even though he said he'll stop by. I finally caught up on my sleep, try my best to keep up with my assignments, and asked Lux to stay with me the past few weeks, actually. I didn’t want to be alone with the thought that there are demons lurking out there. I wanted to get in touch with V to see if perhaps the deed is done with the whole demon thing and that’ll put my mind to ease that there won’t be any more of those things anymore trying to kill me. It doesn’t help that I have no way to contact him. Honestly, I tried to find my way around to get to the Devil May Cry bar, but that place wasn’t easy to find if I don’t know where to look… which I actually don’t. I was simply following V last time and wasn’t paying attention to the ways to get there. Oh well, no use of worrying about it except the fact that I constantly have to look over my shoulders to make sure there aren’t any demons lurking in the shadows even in the daylight. You never know. Okay, maybe I do need to talk to V soon and it’s not helping that I didn’t even bother to ask how to contact him. In my defense, I was sleep deprived. Maybe I still am slightly because I could look up and sometimes see the bird creature sitting on one building, watching me. Then I blinked and there was nothing there at all, making me think that I might be going crazy.

I finally get home from the day’s worth of errands and classes, sighing as I feel my body begging to rest up. But ever since that night, I sometimes get reoccurring nightmares that causes me to not really want to go into deep slumber anymore, not really getting the true rest that I deserve. Lux isn’t home yet, so I felt a slightly disappointment. I decided that I should try to relax without the company of anyone, so I kicked off my shoes, set my keys on the counter, and put up all my stuff in the closet. I stripped myself to just a tank top and covered myself with a blanket as I lay myself down on the bed. I took a deep breath, looking at the watch to see it is 7:44 PM. I spent the rest of the afternoon after my classes in the library, needing to concentrate on my assignments and trying to get ahead a bit for other classes so I wouldn’t have to worry much about it. I was about to close my eyes and slip into my slumber when I heard knocking. Lux has the key unless she has forgotten, but even if she did, she would have called me about it first. I wasn’t expecting anyone either, so that really puzzled me. I grabbed a long silk robe from the bathroom and slipped it on, wrapping my body with the ties that come with it. I walk over to the entrance of my apartment door, peeking out of the peephole and see V waiting patiently for me. I wasn’t expecting anyone especially him and I’m not exactly in my best. I didn’t want to keep him waiting either, so I decided to unlock the deadbolt and finally open the door. V is leaning into his cane for support, looking at me and then finally said, “Hello [y/n]. Pardon my absence, but I had to ensure preparing is going smoothly.” I nodded, holding the door open wider, and gestured him to come inside. V walks inside, looking around my place, taking in the decorations. I didn’t see any of his creatures following behind him, so I closed the door.

“Do you want something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. Not going to stay long. In fact,” he turns around to face me, walking towards me until he’s about at arm’s length away from me, “I need you to come with me.”

“Wait, why? Do you need me for something?”

“I don’t think I can leave you alone here any longer. It might get dangerous.”

“Wait, you still couldn’t get rid of that demon you’re talking about?”

“No, we were waiting for his associates and preparing for the take down, but I feared it is worse than I thought. I turned back and came to get you and an insurance policy of a sort.

I contemplated about that for a moment, not sure if I wanted to put myself in danger and not really sure what I should expect. V says it’s far more dangerous to leave me alone and he seems to be the kind of man that takes all things into consideration. I feel far safer with him than I have with Lux. As much as I love my best friend, I think it’s better to go with V. I finally nodded, “Give me a few to at least put something decent. Make yourself at home.” V turn around towards the living room as I walk back into my bedroom, closing the door to give myself some privacy as I find jeans and a plain t-shirt to slip into. I found my combat boots and decided to slip into that one. After deeming myself decent enough to go out, I get out the bedroom and find V reading his book. Curious, I asked him, “What are you reading?” V looked up at me then back to the book, reading a loud of what he’s currently reading,

“Little lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Gave thee life & bid thee feed.

By the stream & o’er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing wooly bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice”

V gets up and closes his book, waiting for my response. I smile at him, nodding, “William Blake. I like his poems,” I remarked. It was a bit dark to see, but I thought I saw a slight smile from him.

“We best get going,” V noted and opened the door for me, gesturing me that I go first. I complied, grabbing the keys on the way out. With the both of us out of my place, I ensured that I locked my door. I thought about calling Lux not to expect me tonight, but I assumed that she’s probably busy doing her own thing that I didn’t want to bother her. I followed V closely to wherever he is going.

We finally go to the place where we are supposed to be meeting another associate of Dante’s. V may have left out the fact that they weren’t exactly expecting us. V went up ahead and knocked on the door. I stay behind him, waiting patiently for someone to answer. A few seconds passes by until a woman finally answers the door, “Hello! How may I help you?” V looks back at me then to the woman, “I need to speak to Nero. It concerns Dante.” The woman looks at V then behind him, trying to get a good look at the both of us.

“May I ask your names?”

I decided to speak up, “Pardon our manners. My name is [y/n] and this is V. Pleased to meet you!” I hold out my hand, waiting for her.

“Mine is Kyrie. Please come in while I go get Nero.”

She holds the door out for us to come into her home, which is not fancy, but quite comfortable with a tiny garage attached. V walks inside, looking back to make sure I follow behind. I look around, taking in the surrounding as Kyrie moves ahead to look for this Nero guy. Wanting to break the awkward silence, I start asking V a few questions, “So this business is basically demon hunting, right?”

V nodded, not really speaking a word.

I continued, “So those associates you keep mentioning, they’re also in the demon hunting business?”

V looks back at me and I couldn’t tell if he is slightly annoyed or amused. I remained silent for a bit, which V starts to relax again.

“So how do you know about this demon resurrecting? What is it? Or who? Do all demons have previous identity or something?”

“I-“

I hear several footsteps coming towards us. Kyrie and a man next to her come into our view. The man stops Kyrie, whispering something to her, and Kyrie nodded. She caught me staring and greeted me with a wave as Nero turns back to us and continued walking, leaving her behind. Kyrie walks away as Nero greeted us with a nod, “Hey. Nero here. What do you need?” V seems to be gathering his thoughts on how he wants to say it before finally answering, “We need your help. I hired Dante to help kill the demon that is about to resurrect and it’s worse than I imagined. I came here to hire you as backup.”

“Uh, sorry but I’m out for the job.”

Nero gestures to his right arm, showing V that he’s missing half of it. V stares at his arm for a few moments, his lips tightly thin, then finally added in, “This demon is the one that took your arm.”

Nero got a bit confused, probably having a million questions going through his head.

“Wait, how do you kno-“

“There’s no time to waste explaining. This demon is a threat and needs to be taken down as soon as possible. Dante is probably off buying time. We need your help.”

Nero contemplated for a few seconds, then looks behind him to see if anyone else is listening. He looks back at V and then finally barely noticed that I was standing right behind him, listening to their conversation. He decides to ask no further questions, nodding, “Alright. Let me get my sword.”

We get near what seems to be a giant tree standing before us, several people gather round, curious to what is it exactly. Several helicopters trying to get news on this strange looking thing that sprouted out of the ground, covering what little information they have live. Several news truck are on ground, trying to cover their side of the story and a lot of cop cars surrounding the area as well. Some of the civilians are taking pictures as well, some just chatting and coming up with their own theories with what it could be. I shook my head, looking forward now, and following V. I took out my phone to call Lux, letting it ring a few times before I got an automated message saying that the lines are all busy. I scowled, attempting the call one more time to hopefully get through; same automated message. I put my phone away and jog up to catch up to V and Nero. Morrison was standing near the cop car, cigarette in mouth, turning to see the three of us walking up to him.

“Hey fellas. Situation hasn’t changed yet,” Morrison informed. “I see you got Nero to join in on the job now, huh.”

Nero greeted with wave, “Hey. Dante’s in there?”

Morrison nodded in reply, “Yeah, seems like it. More civilians are coming out, so the sooner we can get rid of this thing, the better.”

Nero walks on ahead towards the demon-looking tree, V following behind him and then stops for a few seconds. He turns to me and said, “You should stay here with him.”

I got confused and attempt to try to argue until V places a hand on my shoulder. I look at his hand for a brief second then back on his face, my expression softening.

“You’re safe out here than in there,” he whispers to me, almost sounding like he was pleading with me. Finally, I nodded and he lifts his hand off my shoulder, seeming a bit relieved. He turns around to catch up to Nero and I blurt out, “Come back safe.” V simply looks over his shoulder and I thought I heard him say, “I will.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey you any canon compliant angst no happy ending recs

Hey Lovely!

Ah, you’re an evil one, aren’t ya, LOL LOL!! Hee hee! No worries! I’ve had this one waiting for literal years, finally going to use this post as an excuse to post it up! Enjoy(?)! LOL <3

UNHAPPY or AMBIGUOUS ENDINGS

See also:

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst

Major Character Death / Heavy Angst Pt 2

One Lives, One Dies

John’s Suicide Before TEH

Dies After the Fall and Becomes a Ghost

John Has Cancer

I don't mind by beltainefaerie (G, 221 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Stag Night, 221B, Post-TRF, Angst, Longing) – Sherlock is more vulnerable than he pretends. Part 4 of Bel's Tumblr Ficlets

Pervasive Quietness by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 545 w., 1 Ch. ||  Angst, Friendship, Pining Sherlock, First-Person Sherlock POV) – The hollowness left in Baker Street seeps into everything.

Human Error by YakuzaDog (G, 571 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Missing Scene, Angst) – Sherlock goes on a brief shopping trip.

The Hollow Man by HHarris (G, 639 w., 1 Ch. || John’s Chair, Introspection, Sherlock’s Big Feelings™, Post TRF, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, POV Sherlock, Pining / Sad Sherlock) – Still reeling from the apparent loss of his one and only friend, Sherlock returns to 221B for the first time after the events of The Reichenbach Fall.

Five Seconds by xXLadyLovelaceXx (K+, 658 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Introspection, TGG Pool Scene) – In the half-second before Sherlock shoots the jacket, John notices something.

Promise of Sussex by LittleLongHairedOutlaw (T, 705 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Angst, Pining, Ambiguous Ending) – John tries to keep Sherlock conscious after he's been shot on a case.

Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, One-Sided Texting, Pining Sherlock) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?

John Will Never Know by bloodsoakedleather (E, 775 w., 1 Ch. || Fantasy John, Masturbation, PIning Sherlock, Sexual Fantasy, Rimming, Cock Sucking, John’s Red Pants, Pants Sniffing, Coming in Pants, Mild Kink) – Sherlock indulges in a spot of self gratification with the aid of a stolen pair of red pants. Part 2 of Johnlock Porny Ficlets

Words Were Never Useful by Jenn1984 (K+, 819 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, John Whump, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) - ALLEY BEHIND THE BOOKSTORE, JOHN STABBED. HELP NOW. SH

The Other Shoe by thewaitwasworthitlove - (NR, 1,053 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst, URT, Post-TSo3) - Sherlock realizes how deep in love he has fallen for John. Only Sherlock Holmes would manage to be more shattered than crystal dropped on concrete.

The Signs of Loss by LitLocked (NR, 1,103 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TSo3, Pining Sherlock, Self Reflection) – Sherlock's internal monologue after he comes back from the wedding.

Velvet by headlessjess (G, 1,155 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining, Angst, Jealous Sherlock, Loneliness, Sad Fic, Friendship, Bi-Curiousity, Dancing) – It's the day, the wedding day - John and Mary, getting married. And then there's Sherlock, in pain and in love, without knowing how to deal with it.

Imminent by LoyalPaddler (K+, 1,187 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Open Ending) – What did it say about a person if he recognized the feeling of waking up concussed, blindfolded, and handcuffed to a chair? Probably not good, that.

The Simple Separation Will Not Come Between Us by The Circus (T, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, MCD, Violence, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Prose) – The choice is simple. Real, and No John. Or Not Real, and John. For a prompt that says 'John dies and Sherlock loses himself in his Mind Palace’

Hold On by Jennistar1 (T, 1,300 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Hiatus, Friendship) –  Alternative ending to Reichenbach Falls - John knew all along.

The Talons of Sentiment by dearcst (G, 1,463 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV, Angst, Unrequited Love, Pining Sherlock) – I promised myself long ago I wouldn’t succumb to something so degrading, something so vicious. I promised I wouldn’t let myself fall. But that was before him. That was before I met John. In sleep there is such bliss and peace, and as John slept on my shoulder, it killed me inside to know I was so close yet I could never touch him.

Love and Bombs by Spark_Writer (T, 1,696 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, POV Sherlock First Person, Post-HLV, Pining Sherlock) – Love and bombs aren’t all that different, John. In the end, they’re almost indistinguishable. Part 3 of Human Error

BBCSH 'Poor Mary' by tigersilver (M, 1,839 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Missing Scene, Sherlock POV) – As the tin says above, this is a missing scene, set directly after Sherlock awakens in hospital after having been shot by his best mate's wife. Minor angst, some pining, nothing nasty; please don't be alarmed unduly.

Dying Changes Everything by whitchry9 (K+, 1,919 w., 1 Ch || Sherlock POV, Suicidal Ideation, Near-Death, Hospital, Sherlock Whump, Gunshot, Unhappy/Ambiguous Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock is having an existential crisis and wants to have a near death experience like John did to gain some perspective. “Shoot me John!” he insisted, gesturing to himself. John just looked at him. “Are you completely mad?”

Love Hurts by Grac3 (T, 2,215 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Pining Sherlock, One-Sided Pining / URT, Sherlock / John Whump, Angst, Ambiguous Ending) – In a world where someone's physical injuries manifest themselves on the person who is in love with them, John didn't think that there would ever be anyone who was willing to risk falling in love with him - until he got shot on a case, and it didn't hurt. Unrequited Johnlock.

glimpses through a closing window by radialarch (T, 2,430 w., 1 Ch.  || Hiatus / Post TRF, Vlogging, Pining Sherlock, Angst, BG John/Mary) – John starts a domestic vlog. Sherlock watches it on stolen phones, over flickering wi-fi, and aches.

It's After That Hurts by jonnyluvssherlock (T, 2,791 w., 1 Ch. || City of Angels AU || Fantasy, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Soldier John, Pining Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Permanently Incomplete Fic) – Sherlock's an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson. Everything is fine until he gets too involved. Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.

You Paid Me Well In Memories by Ballykissangel - (K+, 3,149 w., 1 Ch. || Heavy Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Grief) –  It's Sherlock's birthday and John is not doing well. No matter how hard he's tried to keep on living, he knows he is going to give up soon and he isn't going to make it. Today is his last and only chance to visit Sherlock's grave to talk and give him his gifts: His dog tags, a book full of notes and memories and the meaning of love as Sherlock watches on in grief.

Out of Time by westernredcedar (T, 3,163 w., 1 Ch. || Wedding, Angst, Pining John, Sad Ending) – Somerset is a lovely place for a wedding, but what John hadn't accounted for was the getting everyone there.

fulfilling for other people by missselene (E, 3,957 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, Unhappy Fic, Unrequited Love Confession, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock decides to act on John’s advice regarding romantic entanglements, the results are far from what John expected. Part 1 of fulfilling for other people

Sink Like a Stone by pennydreadful (T, 4,348 w., 1 Ch. || Angst / Dark, Cuddling/Snuggling) – After defeating Moriarty at the pool, life isn't quite the same around 221B Baker Street...it's more peaceful. And stranger.

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

Anticlockwise (Ask Time) by TheBookshelfDweller (G, 3,752 w., 1 Ch. || Metaphorical, Angst, Time, Unhappy Ending) – "Let me tell you the truth: Sherlock Holmes cannot beat Time." Time only flows in one direction, and we are stranded in it, carried by currents we mostly never notice are whirling around us. No one can walk backwards along the timeline, and maybe that’s for the best, because what if someone could? Where would they go? Or, better say, to when would they go? Most importantly who would they leave behind (or is it ahead)? In the end, despite the truth, Sherlock Holmes decides to fight Time, for John, for himself - for himself with John.

On the Steadfast Approach of an Oncoming Darkness by 2bee (T, 7,772 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Minor Character Death, Sort of Parentlock) – The world is ending. Not fast, but slowly, like falling asleep with a fever.

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w., 17 Ch. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can't feel time passing?

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || Major Character Death, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

The Gilded Cage by BeautifulFiction (E, 326,887 w., 31 Ch. || Omegaverse || Omega Sherlock / Alpha John, Friends to Lovers, Dub Con, Reproductive Rights) – In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

[mearcatsreturns]

Hope for Dummies, ch. 3

There's not a guidebook to hope, but they could sure use one.

In which Christmas is a gift and it gets more difficult to stay away from each other.

On ao3 as well (I’ll link in a bit), and about 4.6k words. Earns that M rating.

Abby has no idea what to get Luka for Christmas. She’s still doing the gift swap this year, even though med students aren’t required to, but she’s still going to get something special for him. She knows he’s getting her something.

The problem is, he can afford to buy what he needs and he just does, so that only leaves what he wants. The only things she can think of to get him that he definitely wants are incredibly inappropriate and beyond the scope of their current...understanding.

She has to remind herself that graduation really isn’t that far away, in the grand scheme of things.  

Shaking her head, she lets herself into her apartment. It’s decorated for the holiday, and she even has a tree. She wasn’t planning on a tree, but Luka had come over to help out and he’d insisted she needed one.

Abby is fairly sure they’re spending Christmas together. They’re working together on Christmas Eve—she’s taking a few nursing shifts over her break for some extra cash. For once, though, she has Christmas Day off. She hasn’t spent it with anyone in years, not since she was still married to Richard.

Her eyes fall onto the knickknack on top of her coffee table, and she gets an idea. Smiling, makes a note on her to-do list for the next few days.

&&&

Luka stares down at the jewelry counter, now aware of the difference between emerald and princess cut, but no closer to finding the perfect Christmas gift for Abby.

He’s out of his depths. What do you get for your ex-girlfriend/best friend/not-quite-girlfriend-again, the person who means the most to you in the world, that you lo—care for more than you can say, but that you can’t date?

Jewelry is probably too much, too overwhelming. Engagement rings are right out.

But a practical gift like replacing her spark plugs or coffee machine is underwhelming, not enough to subtly show her everything he feels, even if they can’t act on it at present.

He makes his excuses to the salesman and wanders out of the shop, still at a loss. Then he sees a group of teens walking past, their vests giving him an idea. He smiles and leaves the mall, knowing just where he needs to go.

&&&

It’s Christmas Eve, and Abby is grumpy. She’s late to the nursing shift, and her feet are soaked. Who thought Chicago was a good idea in the winter anyway?

Kerry tries to hurry her along before she starts her shift, but Luka tells her to go ahead and change. She gives him a grateful look as she runs over to the lounge.

When she gets back in a fresh pair of scrubs and the spare pair of shoes she keeps in her locker, Frank is prattling on about the box of gifts that arrived from Carter. He shoves hers at her, his comments offensive as usual.

She hasn’t heard from Carter since they talked on the phone about getting Luka stateside again, and frankly she’s a little miffed. She knows a lot happened between them, but she...well, she thought their friendship was strong enough to weather it.

Instead, he sent her a box. Then again, he sent Luka a mask, and the last thing Luka needs is to cover his face, so maybe gift-giving isn’t really Carter’s strong suit.

Abby catches Luka looking over at her as she holds the wooden box, concern in his eyes. She smiles at him and shrugs, setting the box down. “Well, I’ll grab it before I leave, but we’ve got work to do.”

The tension in Luka’s shoulders dissipates and he grins back. “This should be fun, Christmas Eve is always a blast.”

And it’s not bad. They make it through their shift with minimal fuss, even with their smaller crew. When they clock out, Luka follows Abby to the L platform to go to her place.

They’re spending Christmas together, and it doesn’t make sense for him to go back to his place now only to have to struggle to find transportation over tomorrow morning. Instead, he’ll sleep on her couch.

As they slide into their seats next to each other on the train, she’s tempted to offer to share her bed again, but it’s probably not the best idea. He’s not weak from malaria, they know how they feel about each other, and she has no doubt that exhaustion would not win out over desire.

Luka rests his arm on the back of the seat behind her, and she leans in. He places a tentative hand on her shoulder, then smiles down at her. “Are you ready?”

“Yup. What about you?”

“Well, my gift for you isn’t as good as the one I’m giving myself, but I think it’ll still be okay.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I’d question things if you were going to get me a new car.”

“I’m tired of not having the option. Taking a train when I’m grocery shopping is annoying.”

“Fair enough. Do you know what you’re getting?”

“Probably an SUV with good safety ratings.”

“No more fancy sports cars, huh?” Abby snickers.

He sighs. “No, I think those days are behind me with my midlife crisis. That was expensive to insure, anyway.”

“If you’re talking about insurance premiums, then yeah, you’re probably past the days of questionable car choices.”

“Hopefully past most questionable choices in general,” he says, mouth twisted in a self-deprecating smile.

She reaches and places a hand on his thigh, trying to provide wordless comfort. He seems to understand, and he leans his head against hers. They pass the rest of the ride in silence, the peaceful kind Abby savors.

They get off the train with their bags and make their way to her apartment. Along the way, Luka asks, “Were...did Carter’s gift upset you?”

“Not really,” she says, “I just...I don’t know, it’s not a very personal gift, and I thought Carter and I would be still be friends after everything. It just doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.”

“Don’t sell him short or give up hope yet. I think he might be coming back soon, and maybe it’ll be easier then.”

She just shrugs noncommittally. “It’s okay, I have you, and even Neela’s starting to become a good friend.”

“She seems nice.”

“She is. And smart. We’re studying for our boards together.”

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t asked for my help very much,” he says with a grin as they walk up the stairs to her building’s entrance.

She gives him a quelling look. “I can do it myself.”

“Of course you can,” he says, holding his hands up as much as possible given the bags of food and gifts he’s carrying, “but isn’t it nice that you have friends to work with on it?”

“Yeah,” Abby agrees, softening. She lets them into her apartment and turns on the light, directing him to the kitchen with their food.

They put the food in the fridge and place the presents under the tree. Finally, she sees him glance at the couch, outfitted with sheets and blankets before she left for her shift. It gives her an odd thrill to see a brief flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he schools his expression.

“I, uh, I made the couch up before work. In case you want to crash immediately.”

He smiles, “Thanks. I’m still feeling a little wired, so I might put on the TV for now, but I can keep it quiet if you’re ready to sleep.”

“Nah, I’ll join you, if you’re okay with that. We could find something Christmassy.”

“Sure, though I may change into my pajamas first.”

“Good plan,” she says with a nod.

She decides to take a quick shower, and when she comes out in her own pajamas, she finds Luka sitting in the middle of the couch watching a rerun of It’s A Wonderful Life. She settles in next to him and waffles for a moment before giving in to the overwhelming temptation to lean her head against his broad chest.

He inhales sharply before relaxing. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, almost onto his lap.

Clarence still doesn’t have his wings when Abby drifts off, lulled into slumber by Luka’s steady and sure heartbeat.

&&&

When Luka wakes up, it’s still dark. He glances at the clock. 4:30. His back hurts, but he’s warm, delightfully so.

Abby is curled up in his arms, sleeping on top of him as they lie on the couch. The television is playing who knows what, and he’ll have to turn that off at some point. For a few minutes, he just basks in the simple joy of holding her, tightening his arms around her. She stirs, but doesn’t wake up, and he brushes his lips across her forehead.

Finally, he stands to his feet as smoothly as he can with her in his arms. Carefully, quietly, he carries her into her bedroom and sets her down on her bed. Tucking the blankets around her, he smiles when she does nothing more than snuffle and roll over. Abby is out, she must be exhausted.

It’s fine, they have more time to rest. Before he goes back out to the living room, he takes hold of her hand and presses a kiss to her palm.

&&&

He’s making breakfast for them when Abby wanders out of her bedroom around nine. She’s rubbing her eyes and has that “don’t even try to speak to me yet, it’s morning” look he loves. Wordlessly, Luka pours a cup of coffee for her and hands it over.

She grunts her thanks and sits at the table, nursing her coffee slowly. After a few minutes, she finally speaks, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“For coffee, breakfast, and I guess for putting me to bed last night?”

He smiles. “You were very tired.”

“I guess so. I don’t even remember you taking me in there,” she says. “You could have stayed with me, you know.”

Giving her a look, he crosses the small room in a step and kisses the top of her head. “I think we both know why I couldn’t do that.”

She sighs. “You’re probably right.”

“Hey, after we eat breakfast, we have presents to open, yeah?”

“We do. And a movie to watch and another meal to make,” she says, brightening.

They make quick work of their simple breakfast before moving to Abby’s living room. Luka can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, and he hopes his gift lives up to her excitement. His heart clenches when he realizes it’s been three years since he spent Christmas with his family, and it’s been even longer since Abby spent the day with someone in any sort of intentional way.

She’s almost shy as she hands him the wrapped box under the tree. “I hope you like it. Did you know how hard you are to shop for?”

He waves her teasing remonstration away. “Whatever it is will be great.” He tears at the wrapping paper and ribbon and opens the box, pulling out a snow globe. It has the familiar Chicago skyline, but there’s a couple in the foreground staring up at the buildings.

“Turn it over, it plays a song,” she says.

And then he knows. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she knows he got her that snow globe last year. He’d wondered; he hadn’t been subtle, flipping it over to play the music as he had. Besides, from the second he’d drawn her name last year, he’d known he didn’t want to go the “funny sexual gag gift” route. For one, given their history and that she’d been dating Carter at the time, it felt wrong. And besides that, it had been a way he could show her even a fraction of how he still felt for her.

He knew, had known since they dated that she, for all her rebellious facade, she loved kitschy knickknacks. He’d loved the snow globe, and then when the shop clerk had shown him that it played “What Child Is This”—he’d had to. The melody was the same as that for “Greensleeves,” and if that song didn’t encapsulate how he’d felt about Abby at the time…

But Luka just looks at her in wonder and says, “You know.”

“Yeah,” Abby says with a shrug. “It didn’t take much to figure out, once I thought about it. Especially with everything else going on.”

“I—I’m sorry. I wasn’t my best that night or...really at all around then.”

“And I’m tell you again that you don’t need to apologize to me for that. I get it, and it was kind of a wake-up call.”

“Still.”

“Everything was a mess then. And you know what? I love that snow globe, Luka.”

If his smile is a little watery at her words (that are like a benediction, blessing and forgiveness all in one), he knows she won’t hold it against him. “And I love this one.”

“Good,” she says, her eyes fiery like they get when she’s passionate about something, and he takes the warmth of that—knowing that she’s feels so strongly about this, about them—and tucks away that knowledge to enjoy later.

“Okay, it’s time for you to open yours,” he says, handing her the thin, rectangular box.

She shakes her head at his obvious deflection, but goes ahead and tears at the seams of the wrapping paper. Once that’s off and she’s opened the flimsy cardboard box, she stares down at its contents. “Oh,” she finally says thickly, taking the lab coat out of the box.

It’s not the short coat students wear, but the full one for doctors. Best of all is the left side of the chest, where A. Lockhart, M.D., is embroidered in a beautiful dark blue.

“I know you can’t wear it yet, but I thought it would be good to have ready for as soon as you start your internship,” he explains.

Then he can’t speak at all, but he just lets out a quiet “Oof” as Abby launches herself into his arms, her new lab coat scrunched between them. His arms envelop her instinctively.

After a few minutes, she pulls back but stays in his lap, running her fingers over the curving, not-quite-cursive script. “I—it’s beautiful and I love it, thank you.”

“It’s no problem. And you’ll get lots of use out of it.”

She lowers her head, lashes dark against her rosy cheeks. “Just...you’ve always believed in me. I don’t say it much, how much that means to me, but...yeah. Thank you.”

Luka doesn’t have a reply for her, doesn’t know how to explain that she gives him at least as much hope as he apparently gives her. Instead, he cradles her head in one hand and slants his mouth over hers, claiming her lips in a demanding but reverent kiss, trying to pour everything he feels for her into it.

When they pull back a few minutes later, both of them are breathing heavily. His body is very on board for continuing this, especially if they relocate to her bedroom. Abby’s is too, if the way she was arching against him is an indication.

Still, she laughs ruefully. “We should probably stop.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. We, ah, we could get started on lunch.”

“Sounds good. Just as long as we can put on Die Hard in the background.”

Even though he doesn’t understand how it’s a Christmas movie, he agrees. “Whatever you want.”

Reluctantly, they disentangle.

&&&

New Year’s Eve works better for their holiday party this year, though it’s nowhere near as wild as last year’s.

Abby smiles at the activity in Susan’s and Chuck’s living room. Gifts have already been exchanged (she got a jumbo box of condoms, a Croatian-English dictionary, and knowing look from Jing-Mei), and now there’s music playing and people are chatting and starting to dance.

She’s so caught up watching Chuck twirl Susan—he’s so gentle, it’s just a matter of time until they announce that they’re expecting—that she doesn’t notice Luka approaching her.

“You look beautiful,” he says, mouth around her ear.

She jumps, then brushes her hair back. “Ahh! And…thank you. I may consider believing you if you tell me again.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want if you dance with me,” Luka says, grinning broadly and offering her his hand.

“What happened to ‘Luka don’t dance’?”

“I’m a new man, what can I say.”

Abby purses her lips, but then slips her hand in his. He pulls her close, and they begin swaying to the slow rhythm of the song playing. She wraps her arms around his neck while he rests his cheek atop her head.

She doesn’t need champagne, not with as heady as this is. Heady and...safe, in the best way. “Crazy party, huh,” she says.

His laughter is a low rumble she can feel, and she smiles against him. “Very wild. I will say, Chuck’s gift for me was tamer than I would have expected from him.”

“Well, he isn’t drinking, in solidarity with Susan, so…”

“My best pranks are planned sober, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Luka, the craziest prank you’ve pulled was putting those tube things in my purse.”

He pouts at her, though his eyes twinkle with mirth. “Hey, I was rusty. I did have you convinced that you would have to sleep with me to stay at my place.”

“For like ten seconds, you weirdo,” she says with a grin, “and I wouldn’t say ‘have to’ like it was some kind of chore. ‘Get to’ would have been more accurate.”

Abby giggles at the dumbfounded look on his face

Luka recovers quickly, though. “Would have been? Past tense? I’m hurt.”

She rolls her eyes, still smiling. The song ends and switches to something more upbeat, and they wordlessly decide to make their way outside to the back porch.

She has to fight the urge to reach for cigarettes, but she’s stopped carrying them. She’s trying to be healthier, and that’s somewhere she can start.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, the muted sounds of revelry echoing faintly from inside. Finally, Luka speaks, “So, Carter comes back to work in a few days.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Nervous?”

She mulls this over. Abby hopes Luka knows that any nerves would have nothing to do with questioning her feelings for either him or Carter—she chooses Luka, and Carter has nothing to do with that anymore. That said, Carter did hurt her, and she wonders how things will be between them once they’re back at work. “Not really. Curious, and I know there’s some unresolved stuff between us, but we’re over. And if you and I could manage to work together and be professional after our breakup, I think Carter and I probably can too.”

“Mmhmm. Though he’s not nearly as charming as I am.”

“Of course not.”

“But maybe that’s for the best. Too much charm might overwhelm you,” he says with a questioning, sidelong glance.

Silly man. Apparently he does need some reassurance. Smiling, she shakes her head, “Well, one of you is charming enough. Any more charm and I’d have a hard time getting work done.”

Stepping closer to her, he presses up against her side. “Work is overrated.”

“Especially during the holidays,” she agrees, her insides heating in spite of the fact she forgot to put on her jacket before coming out.

“Exactly.”

She needs to try to focus on something that isn’t how good he looks or how charming he is. “I mean, you seem to be keeping it calm. I understand why Chuck and Susan aren’t drinking, and you know why I’m not, but you aren’t either.”

“Well, as you may know, I over-indulged a little last year. I have work tomorrow and I just...I don’t want that again,” he says, continuing, “and this may be corny, but I want to remember this time.”

Abby hears the unspoken “with you” at the end of it and melts. God, she adores him. To hell with not focusing on them and everything between them right now. “That’s how I feel too,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand over his on the railing.

Pulling his hand from under hers, he takes her hand in his larger one. He’s on the verge of speaking when they hear the yelling inside as the countdown to midnight begins.

Her heart pounds in her chest, and he swallows, looking down at her and raising an eyebrow. At her nod, he pulls her close to him, lowering his head to hers in a kiss just as the clock strikes midnight.

It begins gently and tentatively, but as she snakes her arms around his neck, he deepens it immediately. She gasps against his mouth, and her knees go weak. In fact, she’s not sure she’s standing so much as Luka is holding her up.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there kissing, but she doesn’t want to stop. Luka clearly doesn’t either, if what she can feel against her stomach through their layers of clothes is any indicator.

When they finally pull apart, Luka looks as wrecked as she feels. Abby licks her lips, and thrills when Luka’s eyes follow the motion. He’s obviously ready to start kissing her again, but she puts her hand against his lips.

His disappointment vanishes as soon as she tells him, “So, um, it’s Christmas break and I’ve been taking nursing shifts, so really, I’m not a med student right now, am I?”

He catches her drift and latches onto the loophole she offers with astounding speed. “No, I guess not. Do you, ah, would you like a ride home?”

“Oh, sure.”

They make their way inside and Abby grabs her coat before they find Susan and Chuck to make their excuses and thank them for hosting the evening.

Abby hugs Susan while Luka hangs back behind her. “This was a great party, guys. Thanks for having us over, but I’m feeling pretty wiped. Luka’s giving me a ride home, so…”

She’s pretty sure Susan mutters “I bet he is” under her breath, but she resolutely ignores it, and Chuck coughs to cover a laugh.

“Have a good night, you two,” Chuck says.

Susan snorts. “And be safe!”

Abby strongly considers flipping Susan off, but instead just follows Luka to his car.

&&&

Luka shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing his head along to the music. He doesn’t dare reach across the console to hold Abby’s hand—if he touches her at all, even as innocently that, there’s no way he won’t just pull over and haul her into the back seat to have his way with her. Or let her have her way with him.

The silence stretches between them until Abby breaks it. “So, liking the new car?”

“Yeah. It runs well. Practical.”

“Very nice.”

“Yeah.”

There’s tension in the quiet, but it’s not awkward—it’s fraught from the knowledge of what’s going to happen as soon as they set foot into her apartment. And the anticipation is killing him. Her too, judging by the way she’s biting her lip and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

It takes longer than either of them would like to get back to her place, given the New Year’s Eve traffic.

He manages to get streetside parking not too far from her building. Trying not to hover too much as he waits for her to unlock her building’s entrance, he figures he can chance resting his hand on the small of her back.

Abby gasps and fumbles with her keys, then giggles as she looks up at him. Luka can’t hlep but laugh along with her.

This is ridiculous; they’re not teenagers, but it’s just as fun and intoxicating as it was back then. He wraps his other hand around her waist, and she finally succeeds in unlocking the door. They hurry to her apartment, and as soon as they make it inside and close the door, Luka pounces.

With one hand he hauls her to him and with the other he tries pushing off her jacket. Abby pulls herself up into his arms and kisses him back with a ferocity that leaves him breathless and overjoyed, and he’s not sure if she’s trying to help him get her clothes off or get a better hold on him. Either is fine with him.

They lose their coats, and Abby wraps her legs around his hips. He fights the urge to just fall to the ground and give in here—she deserves everything, so the least he can do is make sure this happens in a bed.

He walks them back into her bedroom, groaning as she trails her lips down his jawline so that she can suck a mark behind his ear.

When his legs bump up against the bed, he falls forward on top of her with a grunt, catching himself on his elbows so as not to crush her.

He manages to divest them of the rest of their clothing though he’s slowed down by Abby’s mouth on his, the way she kisses down his neck, and—god, he’s hard already, even after the little bit of foreplay they’ve engaged in.

Finally they’re both naked, and he relishes in the feel of her skin against his, the way she gasps his name as he kisses every inch of her he can reach. When he finally reaches her center and finds her wet and ready for him, it’s all he can do not to lose it.

“Oh god, Luka, feels so good,” she pants as he works his fingers over her and inside her.

Then she reaches for him, wraps her hand around him where he’s pressed against her thigh. He remembers with sudden, startling clarity how good and overwhelming it can be to be with someone who knows your body as well as Abby knows his, before he’s no longer capable of rational thought.

Part of him wants to protest, but she looks so pleased at how consumed he is, so instead he thrusts into her hand and tries to keep giving her pleasure too.

An embarrassingly short time later, everything goes white. He’s fairly sure he’s made a mess of both of them, but as soon as he comes back to himself, he focuses on getting her to make more of those lovely sounds while he recovers his strength for another round.

Apparently she’s closer than he realizes, because it’s only a few minutes later before she keens and clenches around his fingers. He continues working her through her orgasm, until she shudders again and slumps back onto the bed.

Luka pulls away with some regret, but he tells her he’s just getting something to clean up and then some water for them both.

Abby’s only response is a nod and a muffled, “Mmmkay.”

She stares at him through hooded, sleepy eyes as he cleans them up, and he can’t resist kissing her swollen lips before he goes to get their water.

When he returns, he sets their cups on the nightstand. Climbing under the covers, he turns to reach for her only to find that she’s fallen asleep.

Luka smiles and wraps himself around her and lets himself drift off as well, something beyond contentment welling in his chest at holding her in his arms.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 11

Yep this is a long one, and I’m sorry since it’s mainly an exposition chapter. But I was trying to set up familial ties and character dynamics and inner conflict so it kinda came out like this...Though I’ll admit it may not be the best, I still enjoy it and I hope you do too. Especially with the obscure references. I hope someone can guess whose children, the new characters that appear at the very end are. 

“Did you get any news last night?” Aziz sighed when he saw Jordan’s pinched frown.

It was early dawn and the small group was waking up to the smell of stale coffee, the garbage cans, and preparing to start the day.

They had been at it for four days now. Jordan, Jay in his goon disguise Calix magicked up for him, and Calix would leave to meet Uma at the castle and look around for any important documents and spy, always coming back around midnight or later when he and Lala were already fast asleep from full day of frustration and confusion.

Their days were like the blind leading the blind since Aziz didn’t know anything or anyone here, and Lala didn’t frequent the urban section of the Isle enough to know who to potential recruit or where anything was.

They did the best they could with mixed results. Asking questions like “Where is the Aladdin-hating club?” or “Do you want to overthrow tyranny?” was met with suspicion. To be fair, most questions Aziz asked were met with suspicion, even what he thought were innocent ones like the bathroom. He still hadn’t got an answer to that last one and he was a bit concerned.

They had tried following particularly bad-tempered and miserable folks to see if they could be goaded into joining a revolution, but it was clear that no matter how unhappy people were, they weren’t willing to fight against the Coven.

Yesterday, they broke through with one small lead. That lots of minor followers like the Forty Thieves and Hun soldiers, and Hook’s crew liked to go to Gaston’s bar, and tended to have loose lips about their bosses’ going-ons after three kegs of beer. Aziz was hoping in their alcohol-fueled state, they would divulge where to find big guns like Clayton or Morgana. Or at least rile them up to join their people’s revolt.

Jay stretched and yawned, and rubbed the dusty window pane that showed the backroom of Jafar’s Junk Shop. The alleyway behind it was their current sleeping place.

Aziz had wanted to ask why they didn’t just sleep inside since it had been confirmed that the Coven members rarely left Maleficent’s castle and that Jafar’s Junk Shop had been closed for weeks. There was no chance of them getting caught but he sensed that would be a sensitive topic.

There was a certain sort of sadness, nostalgia and perhaps even fear that crossed Jay’s face whenever he peered through the windows which was quite often. Usually when he thought no one was looking.

But Aziz was always observing people around him. He just found it fascinating to watch people’s quirks. Those quirks were always so telling of what people, and usually hinted at something going on beneath the surface of those perfect princess smiles or in this case, the suave confidence of a thief.

From what little he knew of Jay’s relationship with his father was that though Jafar had been neglectful, Jay had idolized the man and was still having a hard time breaking away from all the lessons he had been taught and encouraged over the years such as focusing on himself and viewing relationships as a give-and-take rather than a bond of mutual trust and equality.

Perhaps Jay was remembering his childhood sitting in that junk shop with useless shiny baubles, waiting for praise to be turned away to  get something better.

But Aziz’ thoughtful imaginings of the potential inner workings of Jay’s mind soured as he saw Jay take another discreet glance around the group to see if anyone was watching, looked directly past him, and then turned to look through the window again.

Maybe Jay did know Aziz was watching but didn’t care.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone looked right through Aziz. After all, he was apparently a forgettable despite the prestige behind his parentage and what he thought were moderately sizzling good looks.

Very rarely was he featured in Auradon news. Is name was always behind more well-known princes like Chad and Ben or even behind Doug since the media loved the story of the Evil Queen’s daughter falling in love with a dwarf.

It was the same in his own kingdom. He was the third child, third for the throne. Well, second since Zahrat formally relinquished any rights to becoming sultana to Cassima. And he doubted Cassima would ever tire of the job of being Sultana.

It was not like he wanted to be Sultan, but since he was not heir to the throne, people didn’t pay much attention. He wasn’t like the other princes who had royal training for ruling and their marriages and lives planned out.

He was on his own, and his pursuits of parkour, and people-watching and the occasional theft was not that interesting enough to make him stand out.

Unless it was Jay who did it. When Jay did parkour or thievery, people immediately noticed it was he. People easily recognized his swagger and smirk.

Whereas he was a pale imitation of his father, and inferior skill set to Jay to boot.

That’s why Jordan chose him to scour the streets of the Isle without a disguise. In her words, “Aziz you’re great at blending in with a crowd, no one will even notice you. They’ll just think you’re the son of one of the forty thieves or something.”

He blended with the crowd. He looked like any other prince. Like any other thief. Forgettable.

“Day 4 of Castle Reconnaissance has brought no new results. It sucks.” Jordan sighed dramatically, and turned around to pace by the dead-end of the alleyway, tapping at the earchip Carlos had given her. “I’m going to talk Ben and Evie,and see what we should do next if results don’t come quickly.”

“Fine, can you at least give me some baklava before I head out?” Aziz asked which Jordan casually did with a snap of her fingers and a warm piece of baklava appeared in his hands.

“Oh, you’re talking to Ben and Evie. What did the say about Uma?” Jay jumped up to join her and Aziz rolled his eyes.

Jay was still admentally against Jordan’s decision to team up with Uma, and had been hoping the two would agree with him that it was a bad decision and no matter what happened, they wouldn’t help her or Harry or the rest of her crew off the Isle.

However, Ben and Evie both were of the mind to give Uma, and her crew a chance since Ben felt like she had a valid point of how he had broken his pledge to invite other kids off the Isle. Evie believed that every teen on the Isle deserved a chance to grow their potential in Auradon, and that everyone included Uma.

Aziz did agree with Jay that it was probably a bad idea to trust Uma, and an even worse one to promise her a chance to go to Auradon, but he trusted Jordan more. She wasn’t naive, and she undoubtedly was inwardly preparing herself for ways to combat an inevitable betrayal. He also knew that Jordan was still insecure about her role as leader and was probably glad to latch on to Uma who was so put-together and already a respected captain.

“Finally, you’re ready.” Lala got up from where she was polishing her spear, dangerously close to the nose of a still-sleeping Calix.

“Well, you know how it is, I’m a pampered prince. I don’t wake at sunrise like you common hunters.” Aziz faked the haughty air that Chad often used which Lala answered with an eye-roll and mock curtsey.

Surprisingly, he and Lala had settled into a comfortable rapport despite only knowing each other for a week and forced to complete a fruitless, irritating task together.

They worked efficiently together, studying potential targets to follow and ask, and shared the bond of being bored and hangry as they walked through the dusty, surprisingly cold streets. They even shared some jokes over some exceptionally dumb sidekicks getting the boot or wonderings of how one could stoicly walk around with a six arrow embedded into their shoulder like a pincushion. She called him a pampered prince and he jokingly humored her by acting the part.                        

It probably helped that Lala didn’t think much of him to treat him with hostility.

On the second day of their recruiting mission together, she made a joke, and Aziz didn’t stop himself from saying, “The jungle princess is capable of joking?”

Lala shrugged and replied, “Well, you’re not much of a threat to me. I can relax. I mean you’re so quiet and not such a loud-mouth fake like Jay or anything really. You’re like…. hmm like a sidekick. You observe. You’re not going to outshine me or be able to go up against anyone.”

“He was so quiet.” “Not a threat.” Not like Jay who always managed to draw attention. He didn’t come up with witty lines on the spot like his father.

He was like a supporting character. Friendly, smart, capable of surprising people, but not very special.

He tried. Allah knew he tried. He maintained his grades. He was great at conversation with adults, he studied up on foreign affairs and he could charm diplomats with his mom like a pro. He did tourney and he practiced as much as he could, but he didn’t want to get so over muscled as Herkie as to not being able to perform his usual flips through Agrabah’s alleyways. He loved to go to the dances, and going on adventures in the dunes with some street rats during vacation. He did all the things that fellow royals did, his father did, all the heros did.

And the secret thing was that though he had fun, he always felt like an exhausted, nervous wreck after every single event.

He was never able to stop his mind from thinking during the conversation. Thinking of what he was going to say, if what he wanted to say was stupid or lame, what if the other person got offended, what did the person mean. He would think of a bunch of conversational scenarios, ones geared toward topics he knew, and witty remarks he could use, but those never went into effect because it felt awkward to try. He didn’t want to appear like he was trying too hard.

He was only able to relax and stop those racing thoughts with people he had known for years like his family or Ben and Lonnie. But with others..he always ended up listening more than talking.

He was perfectly fine listening to people. He didn’t feel the need to add useless, extraneous remarks just so he could talk. He would talk when he had something meaningful to say. That’s why he and Jordan got along so well because when she felt like it, she could talk for hours and Aziz could listen to it.

When he listened to others talk about a school scandal, he could hear all the different views and biases and piece together what happened, he could analyze their actions and motives, and why they were reacting in a certain way. It was like a psychological puzzle, and standing behind and listening allowed him to glean more information and more pieces to add in. 

For example, everyone saw that Audrey had dyed her hair to match her mother, and assumed it was ‘save face’ after Ben publicly dumped her for Mal, pretending she was over it. Aziz had seen Queen Leah berate Audrey, and surmised that the hair dye was less a reputational pressure but at the influence of familial pressure.  

Jordan said he was an amateur psychoanalyst which amused her because she liked listening to his theories about the motives of their classmates; Yet it annoyed her when the tables turned and he tried to encourage her to talk about her feelings like a normal person. She always shut it down with, “Not now, Sherlock Freud. Analyzing me is off-limits.”

Yet in this world, he was required to contribute to the conversation or else, people would forget he was there. Being the backgrounder he was he already heard other students discuss party invitations and he was left off the list since he was ‘boring” and ‘just there.” On the other hand, he was also invited to parties for the same reason. He was so forgettable that it didn’t matter to people if he was in the room or if he wasn’t.

Rationally, he knew he wasn’t boring. He had great stories to tell, and if anyone asked, he would take them for an adventure of a lifetime in the dunes of Agrabah, and teach them tips to tame wild horses, but that wasn’t how people saw him. People usually went by first impressions, and he wasn’t interesting enough to warrant a deeper look.

Though he tried to change and be outgoing as was expected for a prince- He asked his dad for advice under the guise of flirting tips, he memorized Genie’s standup routines, he forced himself to attend every one of the Tourney teams fundraising events, games, and afterparties- But he was always outshone by the other extroverted people in the room. He could act outgoing, but it was always harder for him. It was never going to be enough compared to those who were naturally outgoing. There was always going to be someone better than him.

“Aziz,” Lala snapped her fingers in front of him, “Stop zoning out, and let’s go to the bar.” “You know where the bar is? Yesterday, you said you knew where the docks were and led us to Facilier’s shop.” Aziz said. “It smelled like sea water.” Lala defended.

“It was bayou water. I’m pretty sure bayou water should smell different than sea water.” Aziz retorted.

“Whatever. I do know where Gaston’s bar is though. I have actually been there before, and you find it by following the crowd.” Lala nodded toward what was indeed a large crowd of shuffling, drunk-looking men and women shoving each other to enter the large front entrance that boasted moose antlers in front.  

Due to their healthier bodies and sober states, Aziz and Lala were easily able to edge through the sluggish crowd and enter the vast bar area with its permanently wet and sticky floor, numerous wooden tables and roaring French-styled fireplace.

Lala didn’t slow down, tugging Aziz’ arm to go to the backroom where another door led them to a junkyard with more tables, and a hastily constructed wrestling ring with a cage.

They sat down at the nearest table, and began their wait, disinterestedly watching the current match between a Hun and the infamous Stanley that was on Gaston’s team. But their primary focus was on the patrons surrounding them, unfortunately none looked like Agrabahian or like a sea monster in cahoots with Morgana. He did spot one young woman who looked like a more sinister version of Cruella if her black and white hair and maniac smirk was anything to go by.

A few minutes went by when their silent observation was interrupted by a voluptuous yet haggard blonde barmaid with a tray of ribs that were half boiled, and what looked like mold surrounding the edges, “You’re Lala, right? Dad sent this. Good. Enjoy. Bye.”

“Oh, thank you.” Lala flusteredly broke off a bone marrow and handed it to him.

“Your dad’s here?” Aziz looked around trying to spot another Atlantean in the crowd just as everyone jumped up to cheer when the Hun body-slammed Stanley against the cage and began beating him with his own hands. “Wait..you know your dad? I thought most Vks--”

“Most Vks don’t know both their parents, it’s true. But my dad stayed around a little longer. Stop looking around like that, you look like a frantic meerkat. He’s not out here. He must have seen me when we were inside or something. I’m kinda easy to spot with the white hair and all.” Lala said, chewing a bit too nonchalantly on a bone.

“I guess he must have liked you enough for him to send-” Aziz began to say but Lala held up a hand.

“Now don’t get your little happy Auradon beliefs up. He doesn’t like me. I remind him too much of my mom. The women who tried to strangle him. If he comes out to greet us which I sincerely doubt he would ever, you’ll see the marks around his neck. He’ll give you an action-packed story of how he fought off Turblat with only his bare hands, but it wasn’t the gorilla. It was mom.”

“Oh okay,” Aziz deflated a bit. He wasn’t as naive as Lala, and Jay and Uma seemed to think he was. He couldn’t imagine villains like Jafar or the Evil Queen would find it in their selfish hearts to love their children, he was just surprised that Lala seemed to have some sort of relationship with her other parent, and what he thought was a good one with free food. “I can imagine that your dad doesn’t love you as I know most parents love their children. But he hates you specifically because you remind him of Queen La? It’s not like you’re the same.” Aziz said before sheepishly adding, “And would I know who he is? Is he a villain? Or is he just a sidekick?” 

“Ha! My mom sleeping with a sidekick? That’ll be the day. My dad’s Muviro. He came from the same tribe as her. Though they didn’t know each other then, and got exiled at different times. And I am like my mom. I look like her. I’m jealous like her.” Lala fiddled with her food.

“You’re not..” Aziz was about to protest, but he trailed off. The Core 4 had proven that they weren’t like their parents, but that didn’t mean they didn’t share the same flaws as their parents, and weren’t capable of acting like them in some moment of anger or weakness. He remembered that Lala wasn’t helping them out of a sense of moral righteousness, she was getting a wish out of this, a wish to have her own kingdom. She wasn’t one of the good guys. 

“What do you mean?” Aziz asked, automatically getting riveted with what he imagined should be an intriguing backstory.

Lala hesitated and Aziz could imagine cat-like hackles rising as she trained her slitted cat eyes at him. She looked like she was about to snap with some comment to put him in his place, but then her eyes softened as she considered his face.

She must have remembered how she didn’t consider him a threat and began to speak.

“Well my mom, and dad..um I guess. I don’t know how to say this. I know they weren’t in love. There is no such thing here. But they stayed together for a while. They had had a child before me, and my dad stayed around till I was 7. My mom usually cheated on my dad, but then she found out he dared to cheat on her too. That was bad, but what really made her snap was that he said he could do better than her. You do not tell my mom there is someone better than her. She still hates Tarzan for choosing Jane, and she considers him to be her perfect mate. And my dad, someone who is just a warrior, not a prince or anything saying he could do better than the Queen of Opar…” Lala trailed off with a pregnant pause.

“Yeah, that is a bad move.” Aziz inhaled with empathetic pain as he imagined the vicious scene.

“After that he left, and…He actually didn’t hate me then. He invited me over here to this “civilized” area away from the “nutcase.” That’s what he calls her.

“But...my mom kept saying that he was choosing the slut over us, and I thought about how he could have children with this woman. Would he think those kids were better than me like that woman was better than my mom? And that wasn’t right. I’m his firstborn daughter. I’m the one he taught how to hunt. I’m the one who knows how to specially hunt eagle feathers.

I got jealous, I stalked him and his girl around and I found out she was a prostitute, but I thought she was cheating on him. I told him and said it showed that even she thought she was better than him. He couldn’t do better than mom and I. He didn’t take that well. He said I was just like my mom. Was I planning to murder ‘the other women’ so I could have his attention too even though I thought I was better than him?” So he stopped inviting me, and..yeah.”

“But what about now? If he hates you,why is he giving you food?” Aziz asked, surprised to find that he had almost finished the ribs, mold and all.

“He said one angry La mad at him is enough, he didn’t want to deal with two. So we sometimes come here and chat. We hunt. Not much now since puberty hit, and I got my white hair and all. It’s too difficult to look at me and not see her.” Lala shrugged again, looking down at the table, clearly trying to pretend the whole matter was cool with her and she didn’t care.

Aziz didn’t know what to say. He wanted to pull her into a hug and comfort her but he knew that wasn’t the way here. She’d probably scratch his eyes out first before admitting emotion.

But still.. It was slightly infuriating to think about. Lala had only been 7 years old. It was natural, she didn’t want to be replaced by some new family. Even if her stalking was unwarranted, the intention was kind of good, what with her concern that her dad was dating another woman who thought she was better than him. Albeit in a badly worded argument.

“So what about this brother you mentioned? What did he think of all this?” Aziz tried to smoothly turn the subject to a less intense topic.

“Oh umm nothing. He died before I was born.” Lala answered.

Aziz cringed, “Sorry. I mean not sorry. I guess you didn’t miss much since you never knew him. It’s just that I have a lot of siblings so when there’s family drama, we usually like to discuss it. Or sometimes fight about it if we disagree,” He saw Lala’s confused face, “Ugh, I’ll stop talking. I’ll stop. Right now.”

“I had a lot of siblings too.” Lala said, “Two sisters, three half sisters, and three half brothers. Plus Musala. That was the one I didn’t know.” Aziz whistled, inwardly contrasting her past tense with his present, “Wow nine’s a lot. I have two older sisters, Zahrat and Cassima, well three if you count Jordan, which we all do. One younger bro, Amal and another sister, Noor. Plus a nephew. That’s Zahrat’s son.”  

Lala had a pinched smile as she listened to him talk, not because she seemed disgusted but more like she was trying to suppress it. Not that she was succeeding too well, “What do you do together?”

“Uh lots of stuff. Mainly formal banquets because we’re royalty and all, but sand dune surfing, parkour. Though that’s just Cassima and I, but we’re getting the little ones into it. Horseback racing. That’s a big one. We have running tally between all of us, and I’m winning but Zahrat is going to beat me if I don’t win another one before her.” Aziz said, surprised by how enthusiastic he sounded as he talked about them, but then he realized how little he got to talk about his home life. In Auradon, everyone was so concerned with school and fashion and latest Vk gossip/rumors no one cares to ask about home life. They just figure they know all they need to know about Agrabah and his family.

“My siblings and I used to have a tally on our hunts too. We had such fun trying to get many prey as we could in one hour. One time I even convinced Ewuare that a speckled baboon was an actual creature, and he was so determined to be the first to..” She paused, caught in the memory before dismissing it, “I know what you’re thinking. But I didn’t actually care about them. Why should I? They succumbed to the jungle, they were weak.”  

Aziz didn’t buy it. If he had his eyes closed he was sure he would have believed her lie. Her matter of factness betrayed no wistful emotion. In fact, she sounded downright annoyed at the fact that weak people existed.

But her look didn’t match her voice. Despite not looking at him, where she looked was telling. She seemed to be staring out to the wrestling ring where the Hun was still beating up Stanley, with a brick this time, but her gaze was unfocused, and her lips were pursed thoughtfully. He wondered when her siblings died-if she had memories of hunting side by side in the jungle, secure in the knowledge that she had one person to trust on this Isle of liars, murderers and thugs. 

Or alternatively, if one of the siblings died just a few months old and she secretly wondered about it growing up. “When did they die?” Aziz ventured to ask, whispering with what he hoped was the appropriate amount of reverence.

Lala visibly tensed and then relaxed, and looked at him with a calm poker face.”When I was three, no two, I think, my mom gave birth to twins. One didn’t get a name because she died within a few hours. The other was Taytu Betuvira, she was my dad’s favorite because mom allowed him name her after himself.” The pinched smile returned but Lala bit it back, “I don’t remember much of her. I think, I thought she was cute. Like a baby cub. But she died a year later from a snake bite.”

“So when I was around four, my mom tried again with Rourke for a stronger child. You know, since dad’s kept dying off. Rourke didn’t stick around. Actually, I don’t think he even knows he had a son. Anyway, that son was Ewuare. He was the best.” Lala shook her head with a fond smile, clearly forgetting her “I didn’t care about them, they're weak” statement.

“But my mom wanted more than one child, so she slept with Clayton too. She got Leopold out of him. Clayton visited the jungle more often than Rourke but only when dad wasn’t around. His visits were more for hunting than for Leopold. Leopold was my mom’s son rather than Clayton’s. Clay was Clayton’s son.

It was nice for a while. Ewuare, Leopold, Clay and I. Clayton even let us use his gun sometimes so we could get used to a different weapon. But then Leopold got mauled by Sabor three years ago. He was only 8.” Lala reflexively clenched her fist and unclenched as she talked, her face growing stony with focused anger when she got to the part about Sabor.

“By then my dad was gone, Mom cheated on Clayton with Gaston and got a girl and boy, Amina and Shaka. They were the biggest babies by far. 8 pounds each. I was around 7 I think, and by then, I was expected to pick up the slack in the hunting department. It was awful. Ewuare was a natural hunter but Leopold kept dragging us down by wandering off. I mean I guess I shouldn’t expect more from a 2 year old, but by the time I was 2, I was a very obedient child. I don’t get why she was so relaxed when training him. I-“

“What happened to Amina and Shaka?” Aziz asked, seeing Lala was getting sidetracked by her mother apparently treating her differently from the twins.

“Oh, yes. They grew up, lasted a year longer than Leopold. But Amina ended up in quicksand, and Shaka tried to help her….” Lala paused again, thinking and composing herself to continue.

“Moving on. By the time I was 10, my mom decided she got the strong, powerful child she desired with Mozonroth. Her name was Sarraounia and she was mom’s favorite because she was starting to show natural magical powers once the barrier came down. She could make little illusions out of smoke. Her favorite was to pretend she was a panther. She was obsessed with panthers.”

“Oh no.” Aziz muttered to himself, half-listening to Lala’s comments about panthers and Sarraounia.

Lala cocked her head to the side like a cat which Aziz had to muse, so many things Lala did reminded him of a cat.

How quick her moods could change from curious look to ready to hiss and attack. Even her movements were catlike, full of grace and fluidity whether she walked on her two feet or as she climbed trees on all fours. The way she arched her back and stretched in  the morning, and whenever she smirked, it didn’t look human. It looked more like a crafty feline smile.

“What no?” Lala asked.

“Mozonroth’s my uncle.” Little known fact around Auradon was that Mozonroth was Aladdin’s half brother. Aladdin’s very evil sorcerer half brother that ruled over the Black Sands and wanted to rule over Agrabah too.

Aziz should have guessed that Mozonroth had a child. If a man like Lefou could have a child, surely Mozonroth was capable of it. Especially with the alleged hotness that he had heard so much about from Aunt Eden.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he has another child somewhere. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl though. It’s not Sarraounia. She died this year from fever.” Lala said taking a few deep inhales and exhales.

“My mom didn’t sleep with only one magical Agrabahian man though. She accidentally had a one night stand with Jafar.” Lala paused, clearly waiting for his reaction.

Aziz’s eyebrows shot up to hide behind his bangs, “So that’s how you know Jay.”

“Not that well. I was 13 and Jay was like 15 and even then he was arrogant and annoying. He kept trying to steal my teeth momentos, and pretended he could fight animals. He still keeps insisting that he is just as good a hunter as I am.” Lala huffed with annoyance at the memory.

“Jafar just came over to the cave to make sure my mom wouldn’t give him parental responsibilities of anything. Not that it mattered. My mom got sick with the yellow fever that was going around here, and almost died. I almost died trying to take care of her and getting the yellow fever. The baby came out dead so that was that.”

“Did Jay get to see it?” Aziz asked, starting to wonder if Jay’s pushed friendliness towards Lala was some sort of attempted almost sibling camaraderie.

“It was a she, and no. Jafar didn’t want to have anything to do with her.”

Aziz realized that she mentioned all her siblings’ deaths, but one. It was obvious she skipped over it, and he knew it must have been something terrible if she was glossing over it completely, but his curiosity urged him to know.

He stopped, opened his mouth and then closed it, and opened before finally asking, “What happened to Ewuare?”

Lala looked away, blinking rapidly, “He died four months ago. My jealousy struck again.”

Aziz waited as Lala pulled herself together after that cryptic comment.

“Like I said Ewuare was the best. He was smart, and fast, and such a good hunter. Such a good hunter. He always knew the right time to strike, and he was determined. My mom sometimes...she’d say Ewuare was better than I am in not getting scratched or I was better than him in hand to hand combat. She was trying to make us compete so we’d work harder. And Ewuare didn’t care who was better at what. But I-I got jealous.”

“Just that week, we got ambushed by coyotes and Ewaure got an awful bite on his shoulder, and I was happy. I knew it was going to leave a huge scar and Mom couldn’t hold my scars over me. So when we managed to fight them off, I continued hunting and let him Ewuare walk home alone. I let him because- “He was the magnificent Ewaure,”- he could heal himself.” Lala turned to face the wrestling ring as her nails dug into the splintered wooden table surface as if she was holding onto a liferaft to keep from drowning in emotion.

“..I-I was wrong. He didn’t get a scar. The coyote bit some vital veins and.. and he bled out as he walked….”

Without thinking, Aziz asked “How did you feel?” and Lala slowly  turned to give him a stony stare, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes filled with unbidden tears.

The tiny voice in his head that sometimes sounded like Jordan berated him, “Not now, Sherlock Freud. Analyzing is off-limits.”

“I mean..um” Aziz stammered, and started talking about the first thing that came to his head, “Uh I get having a little sibling who's obsessed with big dangerous cats. Amal and Noor love our tiger, Rajah. They have these little posters and stuffed tigers all over their rooms. Noor pretended she was a tiger for a whole year and would only communicate in purrs and growls.”

Lala looked down at the table, and looked up, breathing shallowly in a clear attempt to keep grief at bay. At least she looked grateful for the topic change more than annoyed since she eagerly grasped at the opportunity to move on from Ewuare’s death. 

“Sarrounia was just as obsessed with panthers which made it pretty easy to train her. I would tell her all panthers had to know how to climb a tree properly so she would stop ignoring me and listen. And she was very eager to mimic cat sounds.” Lala followed it by a very realistic imitation of a leopard’s rasping yowl that caused Aziz to jolt back and nearby patrons stopped their cheering to stare at her.

Aziz laughed nervously from the sudden surprise, “Can you speak leopard?”

“No. I just sound like one. It scares other animals, and people.” Lala nodded satisfied with herself, and made a point to growl at a hefty looking pirate who was still staring curiously at her. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime. I tried to copy Rajah’s growling but I suck at it. I’m much better at speaking monkey.” Aziz said.

“You speak monkey? You’re a prince that speaks monkey?” Lala looked at him in disbelief, her lips quirking up in her usual feline grin as she tried to wrap her mind around the idea.  

“Yes. Fluently.” Aziz smiled smugly when Lala began to laugh at his talent, continuing to talk with some mock-indignation, “Though some of my classmates did think I was weird when I started to talk to some monkeys that broke out of the Auradon Zoo which is such a double standard. How come princesses can sing to the birds and the racoons without judgement but when I talk to monkeys in their own language..”

Aziz trailed off seeing that Lala was caught up in the hilarity of the fact he spoke fluent Monkey to listen to him. So he allowed himself the chance to observe her without fear of a berating glare. He was surprised to hear how it breathy her laugh was, ending with a snort after each gasp.

As he looked at her another figure caught his eye and made his heart jump into his throat.

He had seen that face many times in Uncle Genie’s magic “flashback shows.” Though the face was a little dirtier and a little bit bigger as if the man had been sampling one too many baklavas these days. 

There was no doubt that it was Abis Mal in the flesh. A helpful clue was the presence of a skeletal thin man that Aziz instinctively knew was Abis’ lazy and constantly annoyed assistant Haroud Hazi Bin.

“There’s Abis Ma!” Aziz hissed, jumping out of his chair to follow the bald bandit and his servant that were heading towards the alleyways.

As the pair left, two slender shadowy figures peeled away from western side of Gaston’s backyard wrestling ring. The dark side where no moonlight illuminated the area giving all manner of people the privacy to drink, to fuck and do what have they.

The two figures sat down where Aziz and Lala had been, licking their dark paws, their eyes glinting with fiendish delight.

“What would we have here, brother? A chance for a family reunion..” The female purred, her sharp teeth glinted brightly in contrast to her night black fur.

“Yes. Mozonroth and Marcellus should have a chance to kill the child of that infuriating Aladdin.” The male smirked, his shendyt fluttering in the night air caught the attention of a pirate’s kid who tried to grab it only to be scratched by the wearer.

“And not only the child of Aladdin, but...any other do gooder who helped him get here. It’s clear he didn’t come on his own.” The girl added, sharpening the claws of her right hand with her left.

The male laughed heartily, “Imagine how they’re going to lacerate him. This is going to be delightful to watch.”

Note on names: Like Ranavalalona, all the names are taken or slightly modified from real life African rulers like Taytu Betul of the Ethiopian Empire, Musa of the Mali Empire, Amina queen of the Zazzau city state, Shaka of the Zulu Kingdom, Ewuare of the Benin empire, and Sarraounia, the sorceress queen of Azna who was heavily associated with panthers. The only exception is Leopold named after King Leopold of Belgium who was a vicious colonizer of Congo and whose bloody hand would probably been respected by villains. 

[jinterlude]

Our Second Chance (Ch.2)

↳Story Header © @softjeon (do not steal this header!)

➳ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC

➳ Genre(s): Modern!AU, Royalty!AU, Modern Royal Family!AU , Enemies turned Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Romance, & Angst

➳ Words: 5.5K

➳ Summary: Have you ever gotten that familiar feeling when you first see someone? That strange connection between yourselves even though you have no clue where that came from. Yeah…that was the sensation that Sumin felt on a daily basis ever since she has come face-to-face with the one and only Kim Seokjin. Despite being named after their ancestors, two people who were madly in love with each other, these two cannot stand to be in each other’s presence. However, that must change or else history will repeat itself. Sounds like an adventure, right?

※ Previously: ch.1

※ Next time: ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | coming soon!

Chapter 2 – You are so Infuriating!

Previously

Seokjin’s hostility towards Sumin were idiotic, and he needed a to see the real Sumin. Not some fake one concocted by the tabloids.

Before he could create some elaborate plan to get Seokjin to date Sumin, Namjoon felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and looked down, immediately meeting Sumin’s hopeful gaze.

Fuck his life.

         “So, what did he say?” Sumin asked, trying to make the eagerness in her voice.

Namjoon exhaled deeply as his cheeks puffed.

         “Yeah…he said no…” He answered awkwardly.

Sumin looked taken back. Why had he said no? Great. Here came a storm of questions, creating almost a hurricane within her mind. She had developed that reaction whenever she became anxious over something, especially when the nerves resulted from an important issue at hand.

         “What? Why? He hasn’t even seen me yet…That makes little to no sense.”

         “Oh…time to tell you a story, my dear Sumin…”

Her heart raced against her chest, pounding as if someone played with it like a drum. Soft tones of red painted her cheeks as her feet created carpet prints from all the pacing she had done. Her hands flew up in the air. Her voice, an octave higher.

Short growls managed to escape whenever Sumin took a breath or when she no longer found the right words to spew out.

Why had she allowed this man to rile her up to the point of venting to her dear female friend?

Better question was—why was Kim fucking Seokjin preoccupying her mind 24/7? If it had been any other person, Sumin would have ghosted him or her. She respected herself enough to never allow someone attack her the way Seokjin did. Nope. Never.

Yet…

Here she was. Walking back and forth, in a perfect straight line, as she poured her innermost feelings to Sowon, a newly appointed queen and dearest and truest friend. Well, aside from Namjoon.

These two ladies had met at Sumin’s engagement party. While Namjoon conversed with his buddies, Sumin wondered around the ballroom until she accidentally bumped into someone and caused the victim to spill the contents of their drink. Naturally, Sumin, who had been quite flustered, apologized like her life depended on it, and the person laughed and commented how cute she was being. The person then introduced herself as Sowon, princess and soon-to-be queen once she was of age. Sumin blushed from embarrassment, while stuttering over her own name—the downside of being incredibly shy.

         “You know Sumin…I think you and I will get along just wonderfully.” Sowon commented with a friendly smile.

Sumin’s eyes widened, obviously shocked with the sudden new friend.

         “Oh! Uh…okay!”

And, the rest was history…

         “I still can’t believe that twat implied that I was some sort of heartbreaker! Like, did his brain even remotely think that, “Hmm…I think those rumors are indeed false, and Princess Sumin is this wonderful and down-to-earth girl.” UGH!” exclaimed Sumin before emitting a frustrated fueled groan.

Sowon chuckled softly, finding it rather amusing that her best friend was getting extremely worked up over someone. From all her years of being her friend, Sowon had never once seen Sumin get this worked up. Normally, Sumin would brush off those types of attacks.

Yet, here she was, pacing back and forth in the lounge of her bedroom, ranting as if her life depended on it.

This Kim Seokjin fella must be special to her.

         “I know! Usually, the heartbreaker title belongs to me,” Sowon began, pushing herself off the wall she rested against, “Something must be wrong with this person. I think he’s confused in the head.” She finished, flinging her arm around Sumin’s shoulders.

A look of displeasure graced Sumin’s face. She was always one to rarely accept signs of affection—regardless if it was on a romantic or platonic level. She’d shy away from those types of actions.

Tiny groans soon followed the displeased expression. While with Sowon, the widest grin appeared on her conniving lips as she knew how uncomfortable Sumin was. Honestly, Sowon knew Sumin better than she knew herself. It was quite terrifying.

         “Okay, can you let me go now? I think that’s enough affection for the day…” asked Sumin, feeling Sowon’s grip tighten. This woman…

Sowon patted the poor princess on the head, further annoying her, “Fine but just know that I love you, and we will get through this rough patch together.”

Sumin’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor as she questioned herself why she was still friends with this queen.

Oh—that was right—she was too shy for her own good, so any forms of camaraderie were rare.

Yeah…

She should go see a therapist or something…

Sumin then swatted Sowon’s hand away and smoothed out her hair.

         “Wait, how on Earth did we get off track?” asked Sumin as she finally realized that they were no longer talking about Seokjin but instead acting as if they had a couple’s spat and now were patching things up.

Sowon simply shrugged, “I don’t know, but I got you to stop talking about Seokjin though.”

Then, as if she said the magic word, Sowon triggered Sumin yet again.

         “Speaking of which, he’s not even that good looking I don’t understand why people say that he’s one of the, if not the handsomest gentleman to ever exist. If anything, his looks are about average. Shit…Namjoon is even handsomer than him!” proclaimed Sumin; her voice reached an octave higher than normal.

A long sigh escaped her lips as Sowon hung her head low. There she went on her famous and rather long rants. She had to put a stop to it, especially if she wanted to have time to prepare for her first of many dates with Prince Jungkook.

Sowon waved her arms frantically and shouted at Sumin, earning the princess’s undivided attention before she truly went off.

         “How about this, since I am, after all, queen, I will propose a marriage alliance in which Seokjin will be engaged to my cousin. She has a thing for idiots, and you’ll be scotch free!” she proposed, stifling a laughter that slowly formed in her chest.

Sumin stopped in her tracks. Her breath hitched. Marriage? To another?

If this were any other guy, she’d be jumping at the chance to get rid of him. Yet…something stopped her. Something clicked in her mind. Like, someone held her shoulder, preventing her from moving towards Sowon.

Whatever this was—Sumin disliked it. She disliked it majorly.

         “I’m one phone call away from offering my cousin up to Seokjin.” Sang Sowon, hovering her finger over the “call” button.

Sumin groaned, stomping her feet on the plush carpet.

         “Don’t!” she shouted, turning to face Sowon, who was busy grinning and showing off her locked phone. “You weren’t going to call anyone, were you?” Sumin asked with a blank face.

Sowon shook her head as tiny chuckles managed to escape.

         “Besides, I think it would be rather funny to have you two meet again! Especially, after what you told me when Namjoon explained to you why that pretty boy despised your guts.” She said.

         “Don’t remind me…” Sumin mumbled.

Sumin gawked after hearing the words that came out Namjoon’s mouth. Was he being serious right now? The only freaking reason why Seokjin would not go on a date with her and at least try to form a relationship was that he believed those motherfucking tabloids. Instead of being painted as the people’s princess, Seokjin saw her as the kingdom’s stuck up heartbreaker. This little man eater that had different fellas in her bed every single night.

That had to be the farthest from her true self—her true persona. Why could he not see that?

         “Are you okay, Sumin? You’re unnaturally quiet about this…” Namjoon asked, carefully picking his words.

Sumin clenched and unclenched her hands. This unspeakable anger bubbled within the pits of her stomach. Her breathing grew heavy. Her bottom lip practically disappeared.

Namjoon cautiously walked up to the trembling woman. He gently placed a warm hand on her shoulder, but the moment his hand touched her clothed skin, Sumin unleashed Hell.

         “That. Spineless. Idiotic. Jellyfish!” She practically screamed, causing Namjoon to quickly cover his ears.

He slowly uncovered them, though ready to do it again just in case she wasn’t quite done. He waited ten more seconds before deeming it safe to keep his precious ears uncovered.

         “Those are pretty colorful words, Sumin.” Teased Namjoon, earning himself an icy cold glare from the princess.

         “Shut up, Namjoon. I can’t believe that he’s believing those tasteless rumors instead of giving me a chance!” Sumin complained; her voice raised in octave.

         “Yeah. Well. For having earned his bachelor’s degree, Seokjin isn’t that smart.”

Namjoon’s sentence echoed throughout her mind—on repeat—like a broken record.

Sumin stared blankly at a random spot on the wall while with Sowon, she couldn’t help but feel helpless for her dear friend.

Wait.

That was it.

Sumin needed to stop being her dear friend and this charismatic princess. She needed to be this princess that radiated confidence.

Sowon developed a fool proof plan in her intelligent brain. Her level of intelligence was practically on par with Namjoon. Go her.

         “Well, I have an idea, my soft and cuddly princess. You just need to channel… well channel your inner me.”

         “I’m not going to like this, aren’t I?”

A few days later, Sumin stared deeply at her laptop screen. Her right index finger circled the rim of her wine glass as she muttered every other word on a document. A document that had been sent to her by her personal assistant and most-trustworthy confidant.

Her fingers lightly tapped the keys as the surge of creativity flowed through her veins. Tiny mumbles was only thing audible from the princess as she quickly read over her strongly worded letter to the royal families of both Thailand and Malaysia.

According to her resources, Seokjin had spent countless of years to seal the trading deal with those families but failed miserably. Both of the kings had flat out rejected him, citing that they would “only do deals with a member of a royal family”.

Ouch. That had to hurt his pride since, after all, Seokjin held the title of “Duke” in his kingdom.

         “I swear…their mindsets remind me of King Ji Yong…” Sumin bitterly thought as her body tensed slightly but soon relaxed. Just the mere thought of that terrible king sent shivers down her spine.

She was so glad that her kingdom were on the right path to restoring their true family traditions. Not some bullshit that King Ji Yong created to make sure that their family remained pure.

News flash. No one had pure royal blood in her family.

Now reading over the last line, Sumin smiled proudly to herself before editing her letter. If she wanted Seokjin to even consider her deal, then the letter had to be flawless.

With a firm nod, Sumin clicked “save” and then “print”. She rolled over to her printer and picked up the important piece of document. Then, she rolled back to her desk, grabbed her favorite fountain pen, and signed it.

For added measure, she added her family’s royal symbol and then sealed it inside an envelope.

Then, something had dawned on her. While yes, she had managed to uncover Seokjin’s struggles with Thailand and Malaysia, she had failed to discover the location of his company.

         “You jumped the gun, Sumin…” She muttered under her breath as she picked up her office’s phone and quickly dialed the number of the one person who held the missing puzzle piece.

Before it could reach the third ring, a familiar voice happily greeted Sumin.

         “How’s it going with being a stalker, Sumin?” asked the person with a playful tone.

Sumin rolled her eyes, “Ha-ha. Very funny, Namjoon,” She said sarcastically, “Look, I need a favor.” She added.

         “What kind of favor? Please tell me I don’t have to act like the dutiful fiancé. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love being your friend but when your family asks us to kiss…yeah…no. Just no.” Namjoon stated, feeling the urge to gag.

Sumin nearly choked, “Yeah. No. The favor doesn’t involve you acting like my love-stricken fiancé. I actually need to know the location of Seokjin’s office.”

On Namjoon’s end, he couldn’t help but raise his brow. He found it rather odd that she was asking for the address of Seokjin’s business.

Wanting to be on the careful side of the spectrum, Namjoon asked her why, drawing out the last syllable.

Meanwhile, with Sumin, the temptation to punch him increased with each passing second.

         “I’m waiting Princess Sumin…” she heard Namjoon taunt.

Before speaking, Sumin slowly inhaled then exhaled.

         “I need to know where his company is because I decided to help him out and write a rather convincing letter to the royal families of Malaysia and Thailand, so that way he can finally seal the deal.” Sumin explained with gritted teeth.

Namjoon’s chuckles was heard through on her end followed by the address of Seokjin’s company. He then instructed her to behave herself while she was there.

         “Try not to maim him, okay?” Namjoon quickly added before hanging up.

Sumin rolled her eyes yet again. She could swear that she had been doing that quite frequently whenever she talked with him.

One of the many privileges of being his friend, she assumed. She placed the phone back on its dock and turned off her desk lamp. She grabbed the envelope and walked towards the door.

Just as she turned off the main light, an amusing thought occurred in her mind,

         “Prepare yourself, Lord Seokjin. I’m about to offer you a deal that you can’t possibly refuse.”

And as if someone pressed the fast-forward button, the crescent moon lowered itself behind the horizon and soon, the beautiful sun took its place high in the sky. Birds sang the song of romance while a few butterflies danced with each other.

The nice, calming breeze brushed through the green leaves as it made its way towards a window—a princess’s window to be exact.

The soft wind fanned her face, causing the tired princess to open her eyes. A faint groan escaped her precious lips as she tried her hardest to focus on the time on her clock.

Then, her eyes shot opened. She scrambled out of bed and ran towards the bathroom, shedding off her pajamas in the process.

Yeah.

It was safe to assume Sumin ran late for her “meeting” with Seokjin.

Today would either make or break her. Today would decide her fate. Her fate regarding her marriage to Namjoon.

No pressure…

With the lights shining brightly in her bathroom, Sumin had a better look at her appearance in the mirror. Before hopping in the shower, she did a quick glance over, concocting the perfect look to entice Seokjin—or at least earn her the right type of judgement from him.

         “I think my usual natural, yet elegant look will do the trick. Both Sowon and Namjoon had said that my natural beauty was my number one feature.” She thought as she shrugged off her bathrobe and got inside the shower.

Thirty minutes later, she resurfaced, smelling like a sweet flower. She ran her towel all over body, hoping the fabric picked up all the droplets that lingered. Then, once all the droplets disappeared, she gently rubbed her towel on her scalp before wrapping it around her head.

Sumin exited the steamy bathroom and walked over to her rather large walk-in closet. She headed over to the section where her casual clothes hung around and picked out the perfect combination for the Spring day. She settled with a pastel green blouse and black skirt with white polka dots. She then chose her favorite pair of wedges before exiting.

Looking at the time, she quickly blew dry her hair and then curled it, creating nice loose ringlets. Once that was done, Sumin swiftly did her makeup before rushing out her bedroom. She hurried down the stairs and greeted everyone and anyone that came into her line of sight. After, she requested for the driver to take her somewhere, not caring if her tummy had been empty as she walked out to the garage.

Now mouthing the lyrics to the song that played over the radio, Sumin sat anxiously in her car. Nerves bested her as she had skipped breakfast. She didn’t even want her emergency mixed berry smoothie.

What on Earth had Seokjin done to her? Ever since she had seen his picture, that strange sensation in the back of her mind grew stronger each day. She would find herself in the family archives, staring at her ancestor’s portrait. If that wasn’t freaky enough, Sumin would talk to it, begging for advice or some sort of sign that Seokjin would be the one to get her out of the arranged marriage with Namjoon.

One could only hope…

After what seemed like an eternity of driving, Sumin snapped out of her thoughts once she heard the driver announce they had arrived at Seokjin’s company.

Sumin smiled politely at the driver and told him she would call him if she needed a ride back. The driver bowed in respect, smiling and acknowledging his new orders. He then exited the driver’s side and rushed over to Sumin’s door, though, he knew it would be pointless since his princess liked doing things herself. He would never understand the rumors that circled around. The rumors where it stated that she was this lazy, underappreciating person. Those slandering words had to be stopped. If only there was something he and the rest of the workers could do.

Snapping back into reality, the driver kindly bid Sumin farewell before returning to the driver’s seat and driving off.

Sumin stayed until the vehicle was no longer seen. She then turned her body towards the building; her eyes widened at the intimidating, skyscraper that Seokjin called a business.

Her heartbeat sped up. Her breathing grew sporadic. Here came the unwanted the nerves that she had spent a majority of the morning containing. Yeah. That was a waste of her efforts.

         “You can do this, Sumin. This is just like any other meeting. You are fierce. You are confident. Do not let the haters get to you. You know your truth.” Sumin chanted repeatedly as she strode over to the double glass doors and grabbed the handle.

She pulled it slowly, earning an alarm expression from the receptionist.

The female receptionist, who appeared to be in her early to mid-thirties, looked at the princess; her expression visibly surprised. Why was another kingdom’s princess visiting? More importantly, why was she here visiting her workplace? Oh no… what had her boss done this time?

Seokjin’s infamous arrogance was almost always the reason why visiting members of a royal family appeared in front of her eyes.

Great. Just flipping great.

         “Excuse me? Do you know where Seokjin’s office is located at?” The receptionist heard Sumin ask, “Um, Ms. Lee?”

Ms. Lee shook her heard briefly, snapping herself back into reality.

         “Of course, your highness. He is located at the top floor. The fiftieth floor to be precise. I believe he is currently in there preparing for his 11 o’clock board meeting.” She answered with a polite smile.

Sumin smiled sweetly and bowed her head; a tiny gesture that said, “Thank you.”

Before Sumin could turn away and walk towards the elevator, she heard Ms. Lee say something. Sumin hummed in response, then asked if she could repeat what she had said.

         “I know it is none of my business, your highness, but I just wanted to tell you that I had those vicious rumors about you—”

         “Pardon my interruption but before you have an opinion about my so called “personality”, please get to know me first and then decide whether those stories are true or not.” Sumin chimed in, ready to defend herself.

Ms. Lee became alarmed—flustered even. She did not want this headstrong, yet lovable princess think the worse of her and lump her with those idiotic “news” reporters.

         “Of course, not princess! I was about to tell you that I do not believe such trashy words that those people had written about you. Believe it or not, but my parents would tell me tales of your grandfather’s reign. If I recall correctly, he was extremely good friends with my king. People would go on to say that they had been the best of friends. Practically brothers, so I personally do not understand where those fake reporters are getting their information from.” Ms. Lee said with hints of frustration in her voice.

Sumin couldn’t help but smile after hearing Ms. Lee’s rant. It honestly made her feel a bit of joy to hear someone defend her honor. Now, Sumin only wished that Seokjin could see the light and do the same.

Only time would tell… Let’s just hope he’d see reason and give her a fair chance.

Sumin sighed softly with a small smile before thanking the receptionist for being both helpful and lifting her spirits. Ms. Lee happily told the princess that she did not have to thank her as she was only stating her feelings.

Sumin bid her a fond farewell before walking towards the elevator, where her journey to Seokjin continued…

After a few minutes in the elevator, the doors opened. Sumin’s body tensed at the sight of like a hundred office workers staring in awe at her. An awkward smile graced her lips as Sumin didn’t think of anything else to do except give them a shy wave.

That shy wave caused the poor princess to nervously chuckle. God, she wanted to bury herself in a hole and never come up. Sumin bitterly thought that the Gods made her a princess as a form of torture because she was born more on the introverted side of the spectrum. Funny, right?

Sumin anxiously stepped out of the elevator and politely asked where Seokjin’s office was at.

In an instant, every single finger on that floor all pointed at a certain direction. Sumin was unsure she should find that action funny or rather scary.

She quickly bowed deeply as she shouted a quick thanks before stepping forward towards the direction of Seokjin’s office.

Each time she had passed an office worker, she’d bowed her head politely, smiling softly to every one of them. After all, they were people too. Just like her.

With each step she took, the more she closed the gap between herself and Seokjin. As she passed each office worker, she wanted to stop in her tracks. Why? Well, that was I because she heard yet another office worker defending her so to speak.

         “I told you those rumors were false! Princess Sumin is nothing like how the tabloids painted her out to be.”

Sumin sighed softly with a sincere smile as she finally closed the gap between her Seokjin’s office.

Let’s just hope that lady luck lingered around when she came face-to-face with Seokjin…

Lightly knocking on his door, Sumin opened slowly, peeking her head through. Her heart skipped beat at the sight of his back towards her. The lighting created this holy aura around him, making him appear to be “good to be true”.

She continued to stare at Seokjin’s backside; her mouth dropped just a smidge. Seriously—could you blame her?

Then, it had been cut short when she heard a rather angry voice.

         “What are YOU doing here?!”

Sumin flinched from the harsh tone of voice. Okay, she took it back. Any tiny romantic that were in development had been squashed immediately. The only emotion she felt towards that thoughtless fool was pure annoyance and anger. Now, she rather marry Namjoon while Seokjin jumped off a bridge.

         “Wow. Is that anyway you talk to someone who is of a higher title than you?” Sumin asked with narrowed eyes.

Seokjin rolled his eyes in response. He wasn’t about to play Sumin’s little game—or he wasn’t until Sumin added a little snide remark that easily riled him up.

         “You know what? It probably is, especially after you said that you wouldn’t go on a date with some stuck-up princess who so happens to be a heartbreaker as well but as a matter of fact, I wouldn’t go out with some arrogant asshole who is pretty much too stupid to think for himself and has to rely what he reads in the magazines.” Sumin said as a devious smirk slowly appeared on her lips.

Yup.

That did it.

Seokjin threw his papers onto his desk and practically stomped over to the princess. His face red with anger as he closed the gap between their bodies fairly quickly.

Unknowingly, Sumin backed up; her back hitting the wall lightly. However, she wasn’t about to back down. She never backed down to anyone, especially a man.

         “You don’t even know me, Princess Sumin.” Seokjin began but was soon interrupted.

         “And you don’t even know me, Sir Seokjin.” Sumin matched his cold glare.

Seokjin growled in annoyance. This princess got his nerves.

         “Well, sorry sweetheart, but I don’t want to even be in the same vicinity as you let alone actually talk to you.” He stated, smirking.

Sumin scoffed, “One, don’t call me sweetheart. Two, I was right to call you stupid since not only are we in the same vicinity, as you “kindly” mentioned, but you are also talking to me,” She paused, clicking her tongue, “Yeah, I don’t think I want my future offspring to inherit your stupidity,” She then mustered the sweetest smile ever, “So, thank you for turning me down. You saved me the effort of having to reject your sorry ass later on.” She finished her speech with a bang.

Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. The both of them refused to back down. Their voices raised in pitch every time a new argument came out of their respective mouths.

As they were spewing words after words, this foreign sensation filled their hearts. Their minds became a muddled mess yet Seokjin and Sumin still had a little bit of control over themselves. They knew what they were saying yet not really.

If anything, the way they were arguing almost seemed like if their ancestors were taking control over them…

         “I’m telling you for the last time, you stupid knight-in-training, you cannot tell me what to do. You are not my father, the KING of this realm, nor are you my mother, the QUEEN. Now, kindly leave me alone or else I am going to force feed you some mud.” A fifteen-year-old Sumin said, threatening her annoying yet dearest friend. Her only friend.

A sixteen-year-old Seokjin rolled his eyes and stuck his sword into the ground.

         “My job as your future personal knight is to keep you safe, so why not start now? I mean, I am around you almost all the time.” He argued with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Sumin sighed loudly; the feeling of pure annoyance washed over face. She crossed her arms as she walked up to him.

Seokjin’s eyes widened; his lips parted just a smidge. Lately, he had noticed that his heart would skip a beat and/or speed up whenever Sumin was this close to him. His cheeks warmed up as a light reddish color appeared.

He glanced at her eyes before quickly averting them. He turned his body slightly, not wanting Sumin to see his blush.

It sucked falling in love with your best friend and feeling unsure if she’d return his feelings or not.

Yet… Little did he know. Little did he know…

Heavy pants filled the room. Their courageous stares never faltered. Their chests touched each other as Sumin and Seokjin couldn’t help but wonder…

What on Earth did they feel? What caused them to argue for an entire hour? It was if someone had possessed their bodies and unleased a month of pent up frustrations towards each other.

Feeling a bit unsure, Seokjin took a step back, creating some space between them, however, it involved a bit more mental strength on his end. For some reason, he didn’t want to be away from Sumin. He didn’t want that space between them.

Seokjin mentally slapped himself and quickly blamed on being sexually frustrated. It had been quite some time since he last had sex with a female, so it made sense. No way he felt any sort of attraction towards the princess. No way. Hell would have to freeze over in order for that to happen.

While with Sumin, on the outside, she was indifferent, but on the inside, she freaked the fuck out. Her eyes glanced at his plump lips for a millisecond before she averted them. She observed how prominent his jawline was, and how noticeable his Adam’s apple was.

Her heart pounded against her chest. If Seokjin had some sort of super hearing, she could’ve sworn that he’d hear it. Her cheeks were flushed as if she stood out in the blazing heat, and her lips were slightly agape. What was wrong with her? Any form of an infatuation had been longed gone the moment Seokjin said those hurtful, deceitful things about her. She had nothing but borderline hatred for him, yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

Okay…she had to have a one-on-one session with her personal assistant at their favorite go-to coffee shop. This was not okay!

Before Sumin could fully dive into her mental rants, she stopped herself. Whenever she ranted about everything and anything, besides pacing back and forth, Sumin tend to look pretty much everywhere in the room she was in.

Lucky her, her brain finally registered a familiar painting that hung up in the corner of his office. She squinted her eyes, hoping to gain a better look of the face. Then, seconds later, her eyes widened.

A tiny gasp escaped her lips as she instantly recognized that Seokjin’s ancestor. She had noticed a familiar hilt that she only ever knew one person who that specific design. Kim Seokjin I.

She had seen detailed paintings and drawings that her ancestor, Sumin I, had done in her journals.

Oh, my goodness…

She had to have it now. Sumin knew of the demise of their romance because of what King Ji Yong had done, so she wanted Sumin I’s portrait to be next to Seokjin I’s at least. Even though they weren’t together when they were alive, their paintings would be.

With a firm nod, Sumin turned to face Seokjin, who in return raised his brow, finding her actions odd.

         “Where did you get that painting?” asked Sumin, trying to keep her face neutral as possible.

Seokjin scoffed softly, “Why do you want to know?”

         “Just answer me, you annoying prick.” Sumin replied with an annoyed expression.

         “Wow. Who would of thought that the princess knew such foul language?” Seokjin faked a shocked expression, “But, if you must know, it’s a family tradition of mine that the men pass down the portrait of the man who ended that horrific war that took place during Princess Sumin I’s time. My grandpa passed it down to my father who then passed it down to me. I hope to pass it down to my son someday.” He explained; hints of admiration laced his words.

What his ancestor had done would forever be something he would strive for. Seokjin II would forever strive to do something that would leave a huge impact on his family.

Sumin nodded slowly before taking one final look at the portrait.

         “Excuse me. I apologize for wasting your time. It was a mistake to come here, and I will take my leave now.” She suddenly announced, hurrying out of the office.

Seokjin watched her fleeing body with curiosity. He became incredibly confused as to why the stubborn princess suddenly ran away after he explained how he got the painting.

         “What a strange woman…” He thought with an amused yet faint smile.

Minutes later, he snapped back to reality and walked back to his desk. As he picked up the documents, he carelessly tossed onto his desk, and tried to focus on preparing for his meeting. The meeting that he had been over a few hours late. Thankfully, his meetings would never officially commence until he instructed his receptionist an official notice.

His eyes scanned the same line over and over. Why was his mind in jumbles still?

More importantly…

Why did his heart suddenly feel off? Like it felt empty the moment Sumin rushed out. It was if his mind was longing for her presence again.

Seokjin shook that thought away instantly and went back to work.

Yet the image of her beautiful face would forever be etched in his mind.

         “What an interesting day, Kim Seokjin…what an interesting day…”

A/N: I swear. . . I would slap Seokjin and drop him after the idiotic stunts he has pulled with Sumin. Though... I think they are making some progress! Also, do you love the little Fight for Me related flashback? I’m going to be doing those types of flashbacks here and there in this series! Think of them as never before seen scenes! They’ll give you a better historic insight on Seokjin’s and Sumin’s Fight for Me counterparts! What do you guys think? Let me know!

Don’t forget to leave a like/reblog/comment/ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

[geekns]

The rules are as follows: go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the 7th line, share 7 sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.

I was tagged by @grassangel  who specificially inquired about projects that are not PMS but i’m including it since it’s the only thing i’m actively working on. I haven’t even written another words of Princeling!

1 - PMS ch. 14 (ugh this is random and sounds terrible)

She made a sound of disagreement but was rather at his mercy.

“Just while we eat?” he cajoled. She rolled her eyes.

She dozed while he puttered the in the kitchen. She felt warm and safe hearing him cook for her. She wanted to try to feed herself this time.

A few minutes later he was setting food on the table between them.

2 - Tea with the Brig (doesn't have seven pages, only five; this is from page one)

“I say, who are you?” the Brig demanded, jumping to his feet.  “Where have you brought me?”  His chair thumped to the rugged floor, overturned.  The doors behind Missy opened abruptly, and he backed away from the sound.  She heard Seb quietly threatening someone, restraining them from entering the small sitting room.  The Brig was gazing around her tea room in open shock.  Sunshine streaming through curtains, potted plants, an ebony and velvet changing screen, a chaise lounge.

3 - still untitled twissy fic should have finished ages ago (i’m so sorry)

And she felt as if she were being watched.  She scanned her surroundings, pretended to look at a watch--not that she had or needed one--didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  Nothing was out of place, just quiet as death.  She tilted her head back, crossed her ankles, and closed her eyes.

After a long minute there was a quiet rustling and a breath of air.  Missy kept her eyes closed and refrained from crinkling her nose: someone needed to bathe. Small hands touched her knees.

4 - Petrichor sequel that i sometimes return to but may never finish (ugh this is an awkward section, thus why it’s unposted)

But he was willing to try to do this for Donna if she understood the risk to herself.

“Yes,” she said again.

“Lastly, you will not bear these children until they are born, it is...” he didn't want to say impossible, he didn't actually know that for certain.  “advisable that the male carries the eggs after a certain point.”

“Eggs?” Donna confirmed, doubt in her voice.  Humans are mammal, was he trying to tell her that Time Lords weren't?

“There's no word for it in your languages,” he explained.

5 - Epilogue to Something Blue (from page five, again no seventh page)

The temple was nearly fully submerged itself, its marble columns shining beneath the indigo water.  It had an upper level that was still mostly above water that he was headed for.  He cut power and drifted the last bit, pulling up to a balcony.  He leapt over the railing, his feet only partially submerged.  It only took a moment to tie the boat up, and then he was ascending a few stairs into the temple's interior.

There were no plaques or displays or velvet ropes in here.  This part of the temple was typically off limits to the public, though clean enough that perhaps VIP tours or fundraisers were perhaps an event.

6 - Incubus (now read this, i fully intend to delete this scene at a later date but it’s still in the draft)

The Doctor squirmed, resisting the urge to tell Jack what was going to happen next time they met:

“I don't know the details, Jack,” he lied.

“And even if you did, you wouldn't say anything,” he laughed.  “I knew what I was dropping on you when you left me at Torchwood, after that year that never was.  I could have stayed with you, but I knew that it was time to get out.  That's when I decided not to pine after you anymore, start trying to form some new connections.”

“And now?”

7 - Unicorn (Simm!Master regenerates into Missy post-End of Time, now non-canon)

It hurt, it was too warm, but she endured it.  She grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing harshly at her pale skin, trying to bring some color to it and get rid of the horrid stench of living rough.  She couldn't even remember the last time she had taken a bath, nor a shower.  Her thoughts started to wander again.  The Doctor had never been rough with her, but she had been rough with him.  A part of him hadn't liked it, but the part of her that had been going mad had wanted it.  She had wanted him to hate her, or to at least act as if he did.

8 - A Thousand More (Simm!Master regenerates post-the Doctor Falls...i have no memory of writing this!!! From page two out of five.)

She gradually regained control of her bodily processes and limbs, and told her body to sit up.

The third thing she noticed was her hair. It was dark, which suited her just fine, but it was everywhere. She had more hair than that bitch River Song. It was at least waist-length and had a mind of its own. Portions of it were damp from her tears, and it was hanging in her face now, wild curls frizzing frightfully and completely out of control. It simply would not do; she would have to tame the mop and quickly.

9 - In Case of Emergency (Ten, Donna, and Martha stick around a bit longer after “the Doctor’s Daughter” and get to see Jenny regenerate)

"Jenny," the Doctor gasped, voice tight with unshed tears.  "Oh, you came back to me, you regenerated."

"Is that what that was?" Jenny asked, reaching to pull Donna into the embrace she was sharing with her father. “I'd never felt pain anything like it, I was so scared."  She buried her face into Donna's chest, turning away from her father entirely.  She was shorter now, just as petite but less developed as a woman, with curlier hair now in a beautiful strawberry blonde. Her eyes searched for Donna's approval, and were brown, the same color as the Doctor's, which was jarring to the extreme, but it was still Jenny looking out at her.

10 - The Doctor’s Backup Plan (mpreg crack, pure crack)

The Doctor blinked at her.

“I suppose,” he allowed.  “I hadn't thought of that.  I guess I'll put on some protection...not that you're likely to be impregnated by me.  I doubt that we're compatible.”

“You don't know for sure?” Donna asked, amazed that he was admitting to a gap in his vast knowledge.  She often wondered if he actually knew half of what he claimed to.

11 - Slap (basically the Doctor gets turned on when Donna slaps him??? Donna’s POV, terribad)

Had he ever done this before?  The pervert probably had, multiple times. But Rose was the name and size of a mere girl, not a real woman. Donna would make sure that he forgot her.  She wagered that Rose had never even considered playing rough like this, no Rose was a porcelain doll for a pedestal, not a woman with deeper needs.  Not a woman capable of fulfilling an old man's darkest fantasies.  And that's what he was, she realized...she had no idea how old this man was, but his eyes were old, and tired, and seen more than even she could imagine.

12 - And Then She Forgot (Donna tries to go back to work at the temp agency after the mindwipe)

Donna blinks at him, stunned, and tries to regroup as quickly as possible. She bursts into tears, laying it on as thick as she dares.  She can feel the eyes of the other employees and potential temps on her as she sobs away.  Kevin sighs, walks around the desk, and offers her a tissue box.

“I suppose you didn't hear about the accident,” she manages to take a tissue between sobs.

“Accident?” he asks dryly, sitting on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

13 - Smith, Jones, Noble, and Mott (AU series 3 ep “Smith and Jones”)

“Sarah!” he exclaimed as they hugged each other tightly.  “This is Donna, and this is Martha.  Girls, this is Sarah Jane Smith.”

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“No Rose or Mickey this time?” Sarah Jane asked, smiling at the two women warmly, albeit a little confused.

“Uh, no, not after...” the Doctor lowered his voice. “...Canary Wharf.”

14 - Desert Fox (original fic, very old)

When I wake the lights have been dimmed, and I no longer have to squint against their harshness.  Logan is seated beside me, his hands clasped around one of mine, his head resting on our hands.  I feel no pain, only relief, comfort, safety.  I realize suddenly that this is why I have chosen to stay with him:  he is the only human I have ever felt safe with.  I lift a hand to brush his hair out of his face.  He had grown it back out, has yet to cut it again.

"How are you feeling, miss...?"

I get lots of ideas but not much traction. I tag @basmathgirl @missysrehabilitation @ellym3lly @perrydowning @emilyweepsforpilfrey @kylorenvevo @xreyoflight and anyone else who may want to take a whack at it

[aethelar]

Your Words are Ink: Ch 4

1 . 2 . 3 . Ch 4 : Graves tried to be nice to salvage his day, but then he blew it. series tag - read it on AO3

"Shit, man," Delgado summed up when Newt had finished his explanations. "Am I going to be tested on this? I forgot to take notes."

Tina elbowed him in the ribs. "Ass," she said, but her tone was somewhat lacking in recrimination. She'd missed this, dammit. Working in the auror department was neither glamorous nor easy, but it was what she did and she did it well. Had done it well, before she’d been relegated to wand permits. Would do it well again now that she was back. Whatever tense of the word ‘do’ you chose to use, Tina would ensure the adjective 'well' was applied.

"I have notes, if you want them," Newt offered, leaning forwards with wide eyes and a hopeful smile. "I even alphabetized them."

"What, seriously? Alphabetized?" The auror looked between Tina and Newt, eyebrows raised incredulously. "No wonder you two get on so well, you're both paperwork nuts. Hey Scamander, you ever feel like sorting parking fines?"

There was an ominous chinking from Graves' side of the room as he set his mug down on the desk, brows drawn low and eyes narrowed. Tina froze. Long buried survival instincts leapt to the fore and she wandlessly and silently cast a disillusion charm on herself and Newt. She didn't even know she could do wandless magic. In fact, she was pretty certain she couldn't. Usually. Apparently, imminent Death by Graves was all it took to kickstart her latent talents.

"Scamander," Graves rumbled - it was too quiet, Tina thought, to describe as 'thundered' but that was what the tone distinctly implied - "is not your secretary. He's a leading expert in his field and he's giving up valuable time to help the investigation." He fixed a shaking Delgado with a hard look. "Understood?"

"Prophetically!" Delgado blurted. Tina just stared. Graves made no move to look away, holding his glare until Delgado was reduced to a squirming wreck, one step away from gibbering in fear. About the time that even Newt started to fidget uncomfortably, Tina decided to throw caution to the wind and step in. She'd already been fired once and she'd crawled her way back from that, what was the worst that could happen?

"You know, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about someone," she said in a conversational tone. Is it because he's your soulmate was the second half of the sentence that she didn't actually say out loud, because being fired was one thing but being set on fire was something entirely different and much harder to bounce out of. She was pretty good with a flame freezer, but Graves would probably anticipate that.

She did keep a sidelong eye on Newt though, because this was a hint, pay attention to this Newt it'll be important, Graves is trying to be nice. It might not look like it but this is nice Graves and he's doing it for you.

Newt looked between the two of them with quick, agitated movements. "Thank you?" he said, voice rising on the last syllable and making it a question. "But I don't mind. I probably won't be any good at parking fines, but."

Graves swung his glare around to Newt, and no, bad Graves, this is not how you make your soulmate like you. Stop.

"But I'm a leading expert in my field and my time is valuable!" Newt squeaked in a hurried tumble of words, gaze darting frantically between Graves' coffee mug and the bookcase behind Delgado's right ear.

Graves nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly," he said. He relaxed from his Death Glare of Deathful Death (tm) and did a double take.

"Scamander - why are you disillusioned?"

"Um," Tina said.

"And why are you disillusioned quite so badly?"

"Um." Wandless, wordless, and entirely accidental. And it was notoriously hard to disillusion someone else. Graves' judgement entirely ignored the context of the spell and was therefore unfairly harsh. Tina elected to ignore it.

Delgado elbowed her in her (mostly invisible) side. "How come you protected the pretty boy but not me?" he pouted.

Ladies and gentlemen, the auror department. MACUSA's brightest and best.

"Goldstein," Graves said, over an hour later when they'd finally finished hashing out the first stages of the plan. "Stay behind a minute, would you?"

Tina squinted at him. He seemed calm, as calm as Graves ever got. His shoulders were relaxed. His coffee mug was full and steaming, but hadn't been refilled with excessive frequency over the course of the afternoon. He was messing about with the map, pulling the photos into better positions and securing the stick-it spells with something more permanent that would last through the week. All normal Graves behaviour. Nothing remotely suspicious in the way he tacked up Newt's shortlist of creature suspects and slotted it in to the crime wall. Nothing.

Tina was suspicious.

"Shoo," she said, flapping her hands at Newt when he lingered in the doorway. "I'll meet you at Queenie's, don't wait up for me." In the corner of her vision, Graves' jaw may or may not have tensed. Minutely. For a fraction of a second.

Suspicious.

"At Queenie's," Newt repeated, bobbing his head in an awkward nod. "Which I can apparate to from the apparition point. Which is in the main hall." Yes, well done Newt. Congratulations. Tina smiled encouragingly at him, but it didn't seem to have the desired effect. Newt shuffled in place, half in and half out of the door. "... I don't know where the main hall is," he admitted. "We're usually in the wand room place with the paperwork."

Oh. Oops.

"No worries man, I'll take you," Delgado said, clapping a friendly hand on Newt's shoulder. A sudden sense of doom flared from Graves' corner. Tina dived to intercept and bodily manhandled Newt and Delgado out the office before it could reach them.

"Fabulous, thank you, chop chop, go." She didn't quite slam the door behind them, but it was a near thing and Tina's nerves were dangerously close to frayed when she turned to face Graves.

"You," she said aggressively. "What the hell are you doing?"

Graves turned to face her, jaw set mulishly. "Goldstein, I'm your boss," he said, as if that changed anything.

"You're my best friend's soulmate and if you don't stop acting like a complete ass, you're going to hurt him!"

Silence.

Complete, frozen silence.

Even the pictures on the wall stopped moving. The still faces of Mary Lou Barebone and the no-maj senator that Credence had killed seemed to stare down at her in gleeful disapproval. Her breath seemed too bulky to fit through her throat, and her mouth opened as though she could take back the words she'd said and swallow them.

Graves withdrew into a careful blankness that Tina recognised from some of the worst cases they'd dealt with in the past. She flinched. She didn't even try to hide it. It was the blankness that said, Graves has emotions regarding this case that he does not want to have. It was the blankness that said, Graves doesn't trust himself to deal with this situation justly and fairly as his job requires.

It was the blankness that said, Graves is absent right now, the Law has the wheel, and the last person to put that look on Graves' face was the no-maj father of a first generation witch who'd begged to keep his daughter. He'd begged and she'd clung to him and refused to let go, and Graves had been - Graves had been compromised. He hadn't been able to continue working that case, but he hadn't wanted to inflict that decision on anyone else. So, Graves had retreated, the law had declared the no-maj be obliviated and the daughter placed with a suitable wizarding family, and it was done. There could be no interactions.

"Scamander is a civilian," Graves said, an even efficiency in every word. "He is also a resource that MACUSA would benefit from. His presence at the crime scenes is unavoidable if he is to be of maximum use to this investigation, but the Madame President will be displeased if he comes to harm."

"A resource," Tina whispered hoarsely. Graves continued as though she hadn't spoken.

"You have command of the field expedition this evening. Delgado will run backup. If you need additional time on the scene, request it through standard procedures." He waited just long enough for her to nod, then turned back to his desk. "Dismissed," he said, sitting straight in his chair and pulling a stack of files from one of the locked drawers. His coffee remained by the crime wall, rapidly going cold.

"You won't be with us this evening?" Tina asked, because the original plan had been two teams of two out in the field. She mentally cursed herself for asking as soon as she said it, because there wasn't any point. Delgado was running backup, she was keeping Newt alive, Graves was running scared from his soulmate. Why did she need to ask.

Graves didn't look up from the sheets laid out of his desk. "A dark lord infiltrated my city, Goldstein. I have other work." His hands stilled over a photo of a petty smuggler Grindelwald had sentenced to death. The girl in the photo bared her teeth at the camera, too-thin shoulders hunched forward and dirty tangles hiding her eyes from view. "I'm aware of your personal connection to Scamander, but I trust you will maintain an adequate level of discretion with non-pertinent information."

"It seems pretty pertinent to me."

He did look at her then, a dismissive flick of his eyes that judged her and found her petty and emotional. Tina's face burned but she kept it defiantly raised - not that it mattered when Graves turned back to his work with the same empty efficiency.

"Dismissed, Goldstein."

There was nothing else she could say. Tina had screwed up, and she couldn't fix it just then.

She left.