#keeping chosen unaware of whats outside or the fact he could escape at any moment if he was quick enough to run through that door

[itslilacokay]

idea!

more in op tags for those that see this post reblogged (unless reblogger included the ideatags)

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let’s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

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[vs-redemption]

I got an idea for a Fatgum/Reader prompts (since he kinda underrated and I haven’t seen this idea used yet-).

How about one where Y/N is a petty criminal who is stopped by Fatgum but he still treats Y/N more kindly than others have to them and ends up motivating Y/N to choose a different path? Mayhaps a reunion after the incident, you’re choice 👉👈

From Cindy: Finding a way to do this request was interesting. I recruited my sister to brainstorm some ideas of how to make it flow properly and I think it turned out pretty good! I hope you think so too Anon!

Sunglasses (Fat Gum x Petty Thief! Reader)

Walking around the crowded streets of Osaka, you really should’ve felt more in your element. The huge outdoor market only opened a few times a year and you’d been looking forward to this day for weeks now. There were literally hundreds of stalls lined up in rows selling anything from homegrown vegetables, to handmade jewelry and clothing, to newly developed household gadgets and machines. Almost anything you could think of was sitting out in the open and ripe for the taking. All you had to do was stay casual as you walked by and swiped whatever you felt like right off the display tables. It was too easy. And maybe that was the problem. Having all the people and chaos going on around you just took all the fun out of it.

“Hey there!” One of the merchants smiles after making eye contact with you and beckons you over. “Could I interest you in new pair of sunglasses? We’re selling them at 40% off just for today!”

You pick a pair up off the table with one hand, looking it over to make sure they were really the name brand sunglasses they were being advertised as. It didn’t even really matter though if they were the real deal. 40% off was a great bargain if it was the genuine product, but 100% off was even better. The merchant watched your face closely as you examined the sunglasses, rambling on about the great selling points and completely unaware of your other hand sliding a second pair off the table and tucking them into your pocket.

“You know, these are really nice.” You admit while handing the first pair back to the man, “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass this time.”

“Fair enough,” the man nods, “if you change your mind you know where to find me!”

“Sure do!” you reply with a smile before turning and mixing back into the crowd. A few seconds later you let out an amused laugh while pulling the sunglasses out of your pocket and sliding them onto your face. Sometimes it still shocked you that you could pull stuff like that off right in front of people’s faces. You start looking around again and a food tent at the end of the road catches your eye. You walk inside over to the rack of freshly made containers filled with delicious smelling foods, wondering which one you should take. The older couple in charge were too busy rushing around to notice you as they tried to keep up with the amount of people coming in and out of their tent. You pick up a box filled with yakisoba noodles, tuck it under your arm and turn to walk away. You almost make it back onto the street when you feel the weight of a large hand on your shoulder. Glancing back, your heart drops into your stomach when you meet the eyes of a very large pro hero. “F-fat Gum?”

The man towered over you, and despite the friendly grin on his face, you couldn’t help but panic a bit. If he’d seen what you’d done, you weren’t sure what to do. Your brain started coming up with excuses about being so hungry you forgot to pay. It would be an easy fix to go back and get in line.

“Call me Taishiro!” the giant man chuckles, “Nice sunglasses, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you keep eye contact with him even though you were sure you were in trouble if he’d seen you take the sunglasses. You’d never been caught before, but you knew the punishment you’d be facing. You’d definitely have to pay a hefty fine for shoplifting, not to mention jail time if this guy wanted to be a jerk about it. It would go on your record and you’d probably lose your job.

“You forgot chopsticks,” his eyes slide down to the steaming container in your hands before gently leading you over to the line at the front counter. The elderly lady lights up when she sees the hero.

“Oh! Tai-kun! I wasn’t expecting to see you today! Do you want your usual?” She was already grabbing a box of takoyaki that had just come off the burner.

“Of course!” Fat Gum beams while fishing a wallet out from the inside the iconic hoodie he wore while doing hero work. “And my friend here is getting this yakisoba too.” He hands over some money and the lady quickly gets his change. When she comes back she winks and passes two big chocolate chip cookies over to the both of you with the chopsticks and napkins.

“On the house,” she covers her smile with a hand.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Fat Gum bows his head, “See you again soon! Take care!” Fat Gum’s hand finds your shoulder again and he leads you back out on the street. You look up at him, feeling confused and speechless. Were you in trouble or not? He obviously knew you’d taken the noodles since he ended up paying for them in the end. “That woman and her husband own a shop on my usual patrol route. I always stop there when I need a quick snack.”

“So?” You ask and the hero just shrugs, his expression finally turning serious.

“Maybe you can think of them the next time you feel like getting sticky fingers,” he points to the sunglasses that were still covering your eyes before smiling again. “Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!” He gives you a wave before going back to strolling through the crowd, occasionally popping a hot takoyaki into his mouth.

You stand outside the food tent for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. You look down at the box of noodles and the cookie which were still warm in your hand. For some reason, Fat Gum had really let you go with barely even a warning. A sigh of relief escapes your lips. That could’ve been way worse. As you look for a place to sit and eat your noodles, you reflect on the hero’s kindness. You honestly couldn’t say why you’d chosen to try and steal noodles from an old couple anyway. It was ridiculous now that you thought about it. Admittedly, stealing the sunglasses was kind of pointless too. It wasn’t like you didn’t have sunglasses already.

Your thoughts led from one to the other until you started wondering how you’d ever gotten into the habit of committing petty thievery to begin with. Most of the time, the things you stole weren’t things you actually needed or even wanted. Was it just boredom? Did you just do it for the thrill? Truthfully, the answer was a mystery even to you. Perhaps there was a better way to channel those urges though. After all, the next time you got caught, the hero might not be so forgiving. You finish your food, savoring the taste of the free homemade cookie before leaving the market and heading home.

A few weeks later, you find yourself taking a trip into the city where Fat Gum usually did his patrols. You weren’t even really sure why you decided to go, but you felt a nervous excitement when you caught sight of the giant hero walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street as you. Before you could stop yourself, you were jogging across the street and waving to him.

“Fat Gum!” He looked over at the sound of his name, a smile already on his face. “Uh, hey, you might not remember me…”

“Sunglasses!” He chuckles before crossing his arms and tilting his head, “I thought I told you to call me Taishiro though.”

“Right,” you laugh awkwardly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you again so soon?” He asks, not a trace of judgement in his voice from what had happened last time.

“I just… never got the chance to thank you for the noodles,” you tell him lamely. “Or tell you my name.” You mumble your name and Fat Gum takes your hand into his and gives it a shake.

“Nice to meet you again!” He says pleasantly and an idea suddenly pops into your head.

“By any chance, is now a good time to stop for a snack?” You ask, hoping that you don’t sound crazy. “My treat this time.”

“That sounds great,” he agrees to the offer without a hint of hesitation. “We can visit my friend’s shop if you’d like. It’s just a couple blocks away.” You nod eagerly and skip after him when he starts to lead the way. You were excited to show the hero that it hadn’t been a mistake to give you a second chance. In fact, the thought of spending more time with him gave you more of a rush than any stolen good ever had.

[shini--chan]

Allies or axis who are having (feeling and) war against the country (reader) . During the fight they hurt the reader and finding out that she is a Girl! How would they react because they thought that she was a he for years?

Yandere Axis

Germany

Inwardly, Ludwig would scowl the moment he’d discover that morsel of information. Outwardly, he’d only show the slightest sign of shock. It would mean he’d have to redesign all of those thorough plans he had for you, not to mention completely restyle the room he’d want to share for you.

It would be such a shame to him that he would have only found out about your actual identity hours after he had injured you, thank to one of his loyal spies that would have infiltrated your army and be prowling around your encampments. In hindsight, it would have been far more lucrative to double his efforts to capture you. Because now, with you wounded, he wouldn’t have chance to see you again in a long time.

Germany would ingrain in his men not to go around carelessly butchering and raping women and keep a closer eye on them to prevent such barbarities more than before. While the chance would be slim that you’d somehow be abused by his men, Ludwig wouldn’t be taking any risks. You are his, even if you wouldn’t accept the roll as of the present. This war would just be a means of teaching you a few valuable lessons.

Japan

The moment Kiku would make the deciding move to uncover the truth about you would be followed by a few instances of stupor. In order to escape, you’d have to use this very narrow window of time to scamper off. Although, in the long run there wouldn’t be much difference no matter what pathway you’d choose. The sadistic grin on his face that would inevitably follow would be just as chilling from a distance as it would be up close.

Your story would remind him of his own legends of women stepping on the battlefield to fight for their domain. Mentally, he would find himself comparing them to you. History may not repeat itself, but it sure does rhyme. Would your courage measure up to Tomoe Gozen? Would you turn out to just as brazen as Hangaku Gozen? Japan would all the keener on testing your limits.

Although he might elect other tactics to capture you. Seeing that you’d disguised yourself as a woman, it would mean that your own forces would most likely be unaware of your identity. Japan would ensure that your secret would reach people outside of your circle of confidents. After a humiliating process of examining you to check on the enemy’s claims, you’d be dishonourably discharged. Whether it would be because you’re a woman or because you’d lied your way into the army, the result would be the same. It would end in you being found be Japan, ready to sweep you away in your moment of weakness.

Prussia

Like his brother, Gilbert would have the truth delivered to him hours later, probably because you had been injured in one of the air-raids he had conducted. It would leave him spluttering, completely confused with him hastily going over memories at light-speed. Prussia prides himself in having fully control over most situations and the fact that you’re not a woman would mean that something vital about you would have completely escaped him. That wouldn’t sit well with him and would lead to a meticulous introspection to ensure that this mistake wouldn’t have been any sign of him growing senile.

He would be very angry with you for shamelessly lying to him and once he’d finally have you all to himself he would go out of his way to carry out a punishment you’d never forget. The nuances of his feelings would change slightly, because loving a man is different than loving a woman. And because he would have learned something entirely new and fundamental about you.

Don’t think that he’d be laxer on you just because you belong to the opposite sex. The enemy is the enemy and the worst thing one could do would be to underestimate them because of some ludicrous, narrow-minded notions. Such things cause people to lose wars. He’d be just as harsh to you as before.

The matter would inflame a whole new sort of curiosity in Prussia. He’d observe you more sharply than ever before. What other secrets would you be hiding. Had he missed something that was also essential? It would become a whole new game for Gilbert, to test your mettle and explore your character.

Romano

He would probably find out after taking a pot-shot at you from where he’d be lurking in the shadows, a sniper rifle at hand. Romano would have been waiting for the moment where he could finally capture you. Having waited until you where all alone, he wouldn’t have to worry about others interfering with what would commence. He would just have to spirit you away before you’d regenerate and wake up from the bullet to your heart. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be all sunshine and joy when he’d find out what you are. Being left out on secrets is painful and his obsession with you would only amplify that pain.

Once you’d wake up at his mercy, he’d have a stern word or two with you. Although, now that he’d know that you’re actually a woman, he’d be more mannered than usual. Even before he would have cussed less around you than by other men. Now he would be the epitome of gentlemanly charm, despite having you in chains.

Very firmly he’d be of the position that his lover doesn’t belong on the battlefield. Your protests would fall on deaf ears in his case and you being a woman would only be a reaffirmation to him that you shouldn’t fight. Additionally, he’d also use the chance to persuade you into remaining at his side. Lovino would point out that while he accepted who you are without any conditions, you had to hide a big part of your identity from your own people. So, why not stay with him, eh?

Veneziano

The news would send Veneziano in a fit of childish rage. You shouldn’t keep secrets from him! You shouldn’t be on the battlefield to begin with! You should be with him, under his control, under his jurisdiction. To him, it would be another heresy committed against him.

After a lot of tears and some tantrums and even feelings of remorse for having injured you, he would begin to plot how he could use this new-found information to his advantage. He would take to deducing other things about your personality and would build his plan on top of them, even if his presumptions would be false.

Feliciano would act upon his ideas that because you had chosen the battlefield rather than electing to pulling strings from the shadows, that you’d be a straight-forward person that could be ruthless but preferred direct confrontation over subversion. To him, you wouldn’t be so skilled at politicking and kingmaking as the ladies of court, unlike him.

Out of that reason, he would take the war to a setting that he is more familiar with: the negotiation table. Italy would use his silver tongue and skills at manipulation to ensnare you. Meanwhile, he go ahead to humiliate you in front of your countrymen, spilling your secrets and crying that war is no place for a woman. Whether or not his antics would be genuine or not is a whole other question entirely.

[sunflowershouto]

strange little visitor - shoto todoroki x reader

���𝒐𝒕𝒆: I got the idea for this while snuggling with my kitty! some fluff with my favorite boy <3, hope you enjoy! My requests are currently open!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Shoto has been having the same cat visit his room at night, and your cat seems to disappear every now and then.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1.9k

𝐬 𝐭 𝐫 𝐚 𝐧 𝐠 𝐞   𝐥 𝐢 𝐭 𝐭 𝐥 𝐞   𝐯 𝐢 𝐬 𝐢 𝐭 𝐨 𝐫

Shoto let out a long sigh as he drummed his fingers against his bedroom desk, eyes scanning the same paragraph of his textbook for what felt like the millionth time. It wasn’t that he didn’t get it; in fact, the information he was studying was merely review for an upcoming exam. The issue was that he couldn’t get himself to focus.

No matter how many times he read the same sentence over and over and over and over and over again, it didn’t seem to stick. 

With a heavy sigh, he leaned back into his chair and let his pencil clatter uselessly against the surface of his desk. It was a pointless exercise to keep rereading the same passage, hoping for a new result; maybe he should move onto something new. Just as he was about to turn the page to move on to a new section, he heard a soft plop against the bed behind him, and a light jingling sound.

“Hm?”

When he turned around to see what had entered, he was met with the sight of a fluffy calico cat kneading one of his pillows, having entered from his open window. 

It definitely belonged to someone, there was a collar with a bell around its neck, but it had no tags to indicate its name or who it belonged to.

“Can I help you?” Shoto asked, standing and walking over to his bed, where he bent over to take a closer look at his new visitor. “I don’t think you belong here.” 

The only response he got was a soft purr and a twitching ear. Go figure.

It stayed for a few hours, not disturbing him as he studied and sitting quietly on his bed, perfectly content to just lounge around.

He glanced back at it every few moments, as if waiting for it to do something. After all, it wasn’t every day that a random stranger’s cat came waltzing into his bedroom. Weird. . . After finishing with his studies, he cleaned off his desk and then went and sat down next to the cat, staring down at it almost expectantly.

“Well? Why are you here?” he asked, reaching out a hand towards the cat, aiming to scratch behind its ears.

It just purred and rubbed its face against his hand, curling its tail and rolling onto its side.

“I see,” Shoto replied, as if the cat had said something of substance. “Don’t you have a home? Someone has to be missing you.”

The cat only continued to purr. It stayed for another hour, before it went back out the window and happily trotted home.

//

You were just about to lay down to go to sleep when you heard little footsteps pattering on your balcony and went to open the door for your cat. You slid open the glass door and smiled as he hurried in. 

“Hi, Koko,” you cooed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears. “Did you have a fun adventure? I wonder where you go all the time.”

Koko meowed softly, rubbing against your legs before jumping up onto the foot of your bed and curling into a little ball, where he promptly fell asleep.

“Weirdo.” You gave him one last little scratch before crawling under your covers and falling asleep.

//

It was three weeks later, and more often than not, Koko went to visit Todoroki’s room at night. If the window was open, he’d let himself in, and if it wasn’t, he’d scratch at the glass until Shoto opened it for him. The cat had made himself quite at home, and Shoto was getting used to his company.

He had started calling the cat Chabu, a nickname that seemed endearing, if not a little mean spirited. It meant “Chub,” but in fairness, Koko was a heavy cat.

It was an average morning at UA, and Shoto was trying to think of a way to figure out whose cat seemed to be so insistent on visiting him. He was relatively sure that it was probably some old woman who lived nearby, maybe the type to own ten cats and let them out on their own.

You sat in front of Momo, and one seat diagonally in front of him, which meant that for the most part, he could hear the conversations that you and Yaoyorozu shared in the mornings before class started. Sometimes he liked to listen; he found your enthusiasm about certain topics endearing, and found himself interested in the things that you had to say.

“L/N, he’s so cute!” Momo enthused, gushing over a picture you had pulled up on your phone.

Shoto couldn’t see the screen, but he assumed that the photo was of a pet, or maybe a younger sibling or cousin.

“I know!” you agreed, swiping through a few more pictures. “His name is Koko, and he’s such a sweetheart. He’s got quite the sense of adventure.”

In hindsight, he should have connected the dots right there, but he tuned out the end of your conversation as Aizawa began his lecture, and forgot all about the pictures that you had shared with Momo.

Most of that day, Shoto found himself thinking about figuring out where Chabu was coming from; after all, someone had to be wondering where their cat was going every night, although he was a bit hesitant to seek out his owner. After all, what if they decided to start forcing him to stay inside? He’d grown to enjoy his little visitor, though he supposed Chabu’s owner deserved to know where he had been.

On his walk home from the train station, he decided that tonight he would try to follow Chabu home, just to see. 

Shoto was almost at his house, when he caught a glimpse of a UA uniform and a familiar face across the street. He stopped walking and called over, a bit confused. “L/N?”

You weren’t expecting to hear your name, especially not in his voice. Your face flushed immediately, and you turned around to wave. “To-Todoroki! Hi! I haven’t seen you around here before!” Why couldn’t you think of cooler things to say?!

“Ah. I live that way,” he replied, gesturing down the street and then to the left. 

‘Of course he lives in the nicer part of the neighborhood.’ You shook your head, thinking to yourself for a moment before smiling again. “Wow! I guess we live kind of close then, huh? My house is just down this road. I can’t believe I’ve never seen you around here before.”

Todoroki nodded his agreement, a small smile on his face, one that you couldn’t see from across the street. So he lived close to you. Why did he take so much satisfaction in knowing that? “It was nice seeing you, L/N.”

Waving to each other one last time, you parted ways and headed in opposite directions, your face flushed as you hurried home and into your bedroom, where you flopped down onto your bed and groaned. “I am so bad at talking to him,” you sighed, throwing an arm over your face.

Koko hopped up onto your bed and curled into your side, where he napped happily, blissfully unaware of his own involvement in all of this.

//

“Okay, Chabu. You’re gonna show me where you live,” Shoto informed the cat, who had absolutely no idea what was being said to him. 

It was late that night, about the time that Chabu usually liked to return home for his meal, and Todoroki was just waiting for him to head out the window so he could finally put an end to this mystery.

The second that the cat was out the window, Shoto followed, leaving it propped open just enough that he could get back inside when he returned home. “Alright, lead the way,” he declared matter-of-factly, as if Chabu had any idea what was happening.

The cat moved fairly quickly, and Shoto found himself jogging to keep up as he followed closely, taking note of what streets he’d crossed so he could find his way back home. He was expecting a longer journey than what he got; in fact, he’d only been following Chabu for a few moments before the cat headed for one of the houses and climbed up a pillar and onto an apartment balcony.

“An apartment,” he sighed to himself, regaining his breath and staring up at the balcony as Chabu scratched at the glass to be let in. There was a light on inside, and Shoto could make out a silhouette crossing the room from behind the curtain. 

“Koko!” a soft voice cooed as someone stepped out, kneeling down to greet the little trickster.

“L/N?!”

“Huh? Wha- Todoroki?! What are you doing here?” You stood up immediately, moving to lean over the balcony and stare out at your classmate in confusion. Your face was bright red, as you started to process the fact that this was real. The guy you liked was currently outside of your house in the middle of the night, and you had no idea how to react. “Did you- Did you follow my cat to my house?”

“No, I didn’t- I mean- Yes. I did, actually. But I didn’t know that he was yours. I thought Chabu’s owner would be some old lady,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and waving the other furiously. 

Your face fell completely flat as you stared down at the white-and-red haired boy who was standing beneath your balcony. “Todoroki?”

“Yes, L/N?”

“Did you name my cat Chubby?”

“. . .Yes. He’s been visiting me at night for quite some time now.”

“I. . .” You were at a loss for words. Part of you was dying inside because this! was! happening! Todoroki was outside your window, telling you that your idiot cat had been disappearing to visit him at night for almost a month. The other part of you was slightly insulted that he’d had a month to name your cat, and he had chosen ‘Chabu.’

“His name is Koko.”

Todoroki nodded, his face unreadable as he stared up at you. 

You hesitated for a moment before you moved over to the small fire escape ladder that led from your balcony to the ground. You moved quickly down it, and then went to stand in front of Todoroki.

“And you followed him all the way here?” You were smiling now, a warm feeling taking over inside as you realized just how utterly adorable that was.

He nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands open at his sides.

You took a breath before placing your hands in his and standing on your toes to kiss his cheek. “You can call me Y/N.” Your face was burning and your heart was pounding, but he hadn’t pulled away.

“Shoto,” he replied, squeezing your hands lightly in his.

“Shoto,” you echoed, your smile widening. “If. . . You know, if you wanna hang out sometime. . . Since I guess we co-parent my cat now. We should hang out. Or something.”

He returned the smile and your heart skipped a beat. He hesitated, moving a bit awkwardly to kiss the top of your head, as if he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. “I’d like that, Y/N.”

“Just promise you’ll stop calling my cat Chabu?” you reminded him, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I promise.”

[starlightbuck]

20 for the meet cute prompts 👀👀👀

20. You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought. 

the way you look tonight || read on AO3

“Why are you walking so fast?”

Chim darts an unimpressed glance over his shoulder. “Because I’m a man on a mission. Now hurry up, Buckley.”

Buck picks up speed, trying to understand how it is that he’s struggling to keep up. His legs are longer than Chim’s, so shouldn’t he be the one setting the pace for the two of them? Not vice versa?

“If I walk quicker, will you finally tell me where we’re going?”

Chim had showed up at Buck’s apartment less than an hour ago and all but dragged Buck out the door without any explanation. Buck had gone willingly, mostly because he was bored and didn’t have any other plans for the day. That hadn’t stopped him from wondering what destination Chim had in mind for them.

He had asked where they were going once they got into the car. His question was met with silence so Buck decided to ask a second time. That time, Chim just raised the volume all the way up on the radio. Buck caught the hint and didn’t ask again.

“If you walk quicker, you’ll find out on your own.” Buck, having not yet caught up to Chim, sticks his tongue out at the back of his head. “Very mature, Buck.”

That stops Buck in his tracks. “How did you see that?”

“I didn’t. I just know how immature you are.”

They continue walking at an almost grueling pace until finally, Chim slows down. It’s such a relief to Buck that he doesn’t even acknowledge their surroundings until Chim is pulling a glass door open and gesturing for Buck to walk in. He does so immediately, drawn in by the cool air conditioning that directly contrasts the overbearing Los Angeles heat.

It’s once Buck steps foot inside the store that he realizes where he is and promptly does an about face.

“Uh uh.” Chim blocks Buck’s escape route, standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips. “You’re not going anywhere until you find yourself a new suit.”

It’s the same thing Maddie has been telling Buck for months now, apparently unhappy with the perfectly good suit he has hanging up in his closet. He doesn’t understand why she’s so adamant about him not wearing it. It cost him a fair amount of money and he knows he looks good in it. Why would he waste his time and money buying a new one?

He’s about to say as much to Chim, but is cut off by a wave of Chim’s hand.

“And don’t tell me you already have a suit. Maddie has deemed it unsuitable and what she says goes.”

“Doing my sister’s dirty work now, huh?”

Chim’s expression doesn’t waver, lips set in a straight line as he takes a couple of steps towards Buck. “Yes I am because she’s carrying our unborn child and I love her.”

Buck can’t say he was expecting that response and it works to disarm him long enough for Chim to grab his forearm and march the two of them to the front of the store.

“Didn’t take you for a romantic, Chim.”

Chim doesn’t rise to the bait like Buck’s hoping he will. Instead, his future brother-in-law sets his sights on one of the store’s employees and lets her know that they’re on a quest for a new suit for Buck. She is very efficient, taking Buck’s measurements and then leading him over to the first rack of suits to get a feel for what styles he prefers. Once that has been accomplished, she guides Buck to a fitting room and lets him know that she’ll be back with a few options for him to try.

“I can’t believe you betrayed me like this,” Buck whines through the curtain as he buttons up a burgundy long-sleeve top and slides on the black suit jacket.

“This isn’t so bad.”

Buck pushes the curtain aside so he can show Chim the fourth suit combination he’s changed into. “That’s easy for you to say,” he grumbles. While Buck’s been forced to change in and out of suits like some kind of Ken doll, Chim has been lounging in a comfortable armchair with a cold water bottle one of the employees brought out for him.

“I don’t think that’s the one either.”

“Why not?”

Chim shrugs, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “Just doesn’t seem right. Let’s see the next one.”

Buck clenches his fist and stomps right back into the fitting room before he can say something that might be used against him in the future. This is exactly why Buck refused to go suit shopping when Maddie brought it up, but at least she would’ve been a better shopping companion. She would’ve actually offered constructive criticism whereas Chim is just turning down everything Buck has tried on. Buck can’t tell if Chim is doing it out of spite or if he genuinely hasn’t liked anything Buck has tried on so far.

The final suit left to try on is olive green and definitely not something Buck would’ve chosen for himself. It’s why he left the option for last, hoping that any of the other suits he tried on would’ve been a winner. He changes slowly, knowing that once this suit is rejected, he’ll have to wait all over again for the same employee as before to pick another round of things for him to try on.

“Alright, here’s the last one,” Buck announces, not bothering to look in the mirror before stepping back out to face Chim. He fiddles with the cuff link, waiting for Chim’s opinion. “What do you think?”

“I think you look very handsome.”

Buck startles at the sound of a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Chim. His suspicions are confirmed when he looks up and finds a young boy with sandy hair and glasses in the chair that Chim was sitting on only moments earlier. “You’re not Chim.”

“No, I’m Chris,” he answers with a toothy grin. The kid, Chris, is far cuter than he has any right to be. Buck finds himself smiling for the first time since stepping foot inside of the store. “That’s a nice color.”

“You think so?”

Chris nods emphatically, glasses tipping precariously on the tip of his nose when he does. He pushes them back into place and gives Buck a once-over. “It’s different, but I like it. Can you spin?”

“Spin?”

“Yeah, you know. Spin.” Chris twirls his finger around in the air to show Buck what he means. “Abuela says you have to look at an outfit from every angle to make sure it looks good.”

Well if that’s what Abuela says, who is Buck to argue?

“Make sure to do it slowly so I can see you,” Chris instructs and Buck does just that, taking his time as he walks in a small circle. He does it twice, moving his arms around during his second spin to see how the suit feels when movements are involved.

He’s just about to face Chris again to receive the child’s final verdict on the suit when Buck sees his reflection in the mirror.

I don’t hate it is the first thought that comes to mind. This might be the one is his second thought.

“Does it look good from every angle, Chris?”

Buck turns back around and almost chokes on his saliva.

Chris is still sitting in the armchair but he’s not alone anymore. There’s a man, an extremely attractive one, standing beside Chris with a collection of suits slung over his arm and amusement shining in his brown eyes.

They’re really nice eyes.

Attached to an even nicer face.

“It looks very good,” Chris answers solemnly, completely unaware of the tailspin Buck’s mind has just been launched into. What does it say about Buck that this kid is able to concentrate on the task at hand while Buck has been sidetracked by someone’s presence? “Daddy, what do you think?”

And oh. If Buck thought having this man stare at him was a distraction before, it’s nothing in comparison to how he feels when the man brings his free hand up to stroke the scruff that covers his chin. It’s a contemplative look that has Buck’s heart doing a backflip or cannonball or something else ridiculous and unbecoming of someone of his age.

So not only has Buck’s brain short-circuited, but his heart has as well.

Traitors.

“It’s a good look,” the brunette finally decides. The words shouldn’t hold anywhere near as much weight as they do. “Definitely a top contender in my opinion.”

Buck is not blushing, he’s not.

Maybe if he tells himself that enough times, it’ll eradicate the tinge of pink that he knows has stained his cheeks.

“Does that mean you’re gonna buy it?” Chris’s question breaks Buck out of his stupor. “Because I think you should.”

Chris’s dad raises his hand. “I second that statement.”

“And I third that statement,” Chim says, appearing out of nowhere wearing a smile that always spells trouble for Buck. Of course he’d choose now to show up again. “Who are your friends, Buck?”

“I’m Chris!” He holds his hand out for Chim to shake. “And this is my dad.”

“Eddie,” his father supplies, also taking a second to shake Chim’s hand.

“Buck was looking for you before.” Chris explains and Buck is glad that the kid is explaining the situation because Buck doesn’t think he would’ve been able to. “But don’t worry. I helped him and told him how handsome he looks.”

Buck doesn’t have to look at Chim to know that he’s withholding his laughter. “Oh you did, did you?”

Is it wrong of Buck to wish that a black hole will appear and swallow him whole? It’s probably dramatic, but he can live with that. At least then he would be able to retain some of his reputation. He already knows that Chim, and by extension Hen, will never let him live this down.

Buck decides it’s best to cut his losses and heads into the dressing room to get changed. The curtain muffles the voices outside, but he can still hear Chim’s laughter. Buck can’t tell if this is a blessing or a curse.

By the time he exits the dressing room again, the laughter outside has subsided and Eddie is nowhere to be found. Buck swallows back his disappointment, a fact made easier by the bright smile Chris directs at him. “Buck! Are you ready to help daddy find a suit too?”

“I-uh what?”

“Help Eddie find a suit,” Chim repeats, as if the problem Buck had with that statement was that he didn’t hear it. “I told Chris that he could keep you for the afternoon so you could pay him back for helping you.”

Buck’s jaw falls open as he stares at Chim in disbelief. Buck was only gone for a few minutes, how did Chim manage to set this whole thing up that quickly?

“I’ll take these off of your hands,” Chim says, taking the suits from Buck. “You can pay me back for the suit later.”

Chim’s final sentence is accompanied by a wink that lets Buck know he’s going to be expected to pay Chim back for more than just the suit. He’s gone before Buck can so much as put up a fight and then Buck is left alone with Chris.

“I’m ready, Chris!” The low voice comes from the dressing room right beside Buck’s and he does not think about the fact that Eddie was getting changed at the same time he was. “You ready for me?”

“I am! Buck?”

Buck glances around the room, curious as to where that employee who helped him earlier is. She’s the one who supplied Chim with a water bottle earlier and something tells Buck he’s about to be very thirsty. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[pepperonyspizza]

Day 4: Angels & Demons AU 

No Warnings, Angst, Fallen Angel Tony & Demon Pepper

Fear. 

Anthony isn’t sure that he’s ever experienced this feeling before... or any feeling for that matter. Until now, he’s always stood above such pitiful things as emotions. He loves humanity, always has, just like he’s been told to do - but he’s never envied them. They are a flawed race and emotions play a big part in that. 

But apparently he’s one of them now, in flesh if not in spirit, and these impressions he experiences all at once leave him wondering how they manage to go about their lives. He doubts that what he’s feeling is the worst of it but it’s already enough to have him panicking, something else he’s never done before. 

He doesn’t know where to go. He’s visited earth before, numerous times, but this area isn’t familiar to him. Or heaven has taken his memories as well as his powers. What Anthony knows is that he’s cold and in desperate need for shelter. 

He’s never been cold, not once in his entire existence. Hate isn’t something he’s been taught but as he makes his way over the field he’s landed on and towards the nearby town, he can’t find another word to describe what he’s feeling towards the coldness seeping into his vessel’s body. 

Hate. 

If heaven hasn’t completely abandoned him by now, this should do the trick. But as Anthony continues to stumble, he finds himself not caring about that. He’s already alone and without a purpose, so what does it matter? 

 ~*~

  There is an old church just outside the village. It’s dark and the moonlight isn’t enough for his vessel to make out details but Anthony thinks it to be abandoned. The entire village seems awfully quiet, leaving him to wonder if heaven has chosen this location to show him his place in the universe. 

The doors are thankfully open (it would have broken his spirit to kick them down) and Anthony is free to make his way into the church. His suspicions are confirmed by what he finds, which isn’t much. No one has been here for a long time. 

But at least the wind doesn’t hit him quite as hard and the sacred walls protect his tired body from the cold. He’s too exhausted to travel any further. He’ll have to find food and water in the morning if he plans on continuing his journey. Besides, sleeping in here will give him a weak illusion of his actual home. 

A home he no longer has access to. 

Anthony makes his way deeper into the church, his curiosity getting the better of him. There is something… of about this place and it isn’t simply because it’s been abandoned and left to its demise. He swears that he can feel someone else, or rather something else, nearby. It could be an animal, but he isn’t sure.

“Lost, are you?” He turns around sharply, his hand raised and ready to attack if the need arises - and the sight he’s met with does nothing to calm him down. 

A woman is standing in front of him, in a spot he had occupied just moments before. The suit she’s wearing is neither appropriate for the weather, nor for their current location. She looks good, more than good, but her outer appearance isn’t distracting enough to fool him. A mere human would look at her and think nothing more of it but Anthony knows. He sees. 

A demon. 

“What do you want?” he spits out, sounding way too hostile for an angel with no powers. 

In the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated to attack or at least threaten any sort of demon - but now… now he has nothing to threaten it with. No matter how much he beats up its vessel, the demon won’t feel a single thing. 

“Someone has woken up on the wrong side of the crop field,” the demon says. The smile on her face sends a shiver down Anthony’s spine but he stands his ground, refusing to back down. “But I see that it hasn’t spoken your spirit. Admirable.”

There must be something wrong with his vessel because the warm feeling erupting inside his chest at her words isn’t Anthony’s doing. He’d never feel good about a demon complimenting him. Never. He knows better than to believe even a single thing this one says. 

“Leave me be. I’m no threat to you, which you’re already aware of by the looks of it. What do you want to do? Kill me?” A bitter laugh escapes him. “Go ahead but don’t think that you’re going to upset anyone up there. No one cares.” His gaze falls away from the woman and onto the floor. “No one.”

Anthony doesn’t hear the demon approach, doesn’t notice anything until there is a hand under his chin, lifting his head and forcing him to look back at her. There isn’t any sympathy in her eyes but there is no satisfaction either. That surprises him. 

“Do you see now?” 

The calm and soft voice with which the demon speaks makes him frown. 

“What do you mean?”

“The lies.”

“I don’t understand.”

The demon looks at him for a moment longer before pulling her hand back, an almost disappointed sigh leaving her mouth. He doesn’t understand what’s happening but the fact that even a second has passed in which he didn’t want to throttle the creature in front of him is already enough reason for him to be concerned. 

“I have an offer for you.” 

“Not interested.” 

Does she think him to be stupid? He’s been banished. He hasn’t lost his mind. 

“Are you sure? I can help you get back everything you’ve lost.” Her words sound tempting, they do. That’s the problem with these damned demons. Anthony doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare at her even while she wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him closer. “And all I want in return is one small thing.”

“My soul,” he says in a cold voice as he tries to pull away from her, fiercely ignoring how good her touch feels, how it seems to return some warmth to his body. “I’m not giving you-”

“That’s not what I want,” the woman says, a grin spreading across her face. She digs her nails into the back of his neck, forcing Anthony to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. “Even though an angel’s soul would be a handsome price. But no. You see, all I want in return is a small favour.” 

A favour. That’s it. That’s all she wants. All of a sudden, he understands why so many humans make deals with these creatures. They make it sound so easy, make such tempting offers that are nearly impossible to decline. They know how to talk, find themselves the best vessels around to aid them in their mission. 

But he is no human. He’s more than that, so much more. He’s fought demons like this one for as long as he’s existed. He knows better. He should know better. He does know better. And yet… 

“You promise that I’ll get it all back?”

He won’t accept. 

“Everything.”

He’s going to say no.

“And all you want in return is a favour?” 

He should say no,

“Just one.”

But he doesn’t belong here. He belongs up there with his brothers and sisters. There is no way for him to convince them of that though. Not anymore. Not without help. No human will be of any use to him. They have accomplished a great deal but this mission isn’t one they can take on. 

Only one creature can. 

“Alright.”

“We have a deal?”

“We have a deal.” 

It’ll be fine, Anthony tells himself. As soon as he’s home, he’ll have the means to keep this demon away. He’ll have his power back and the help of his brothers and sisters. There won’t be anything she can do to force him to keep his word. 

As the demon pulls his head down to press their lips together, sealing the deal they’ve just made, he feels her grinning against his mouth. It’s hard to concentrate on such small details since his vessel seems to be unaware that this kiss isn’t one born out of pleasure but Anthony is sure that she’s smiling. 

Maybe he should have thought this through a little more. 

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [4]: Frustration

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Death and life are the same thing- like the two sides of my hand, the palm and the back. And still the palm and back are not the same . . . They can neither be separated, nor mixed.” —Ursula K. Le Guin

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir takes Simon Marson’s statement with a grain of salt. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him—she doesn’t trust lawyers as a whole, but nothing so far has given her a reason to believe he’d outright lie—just that she’s learned firsthand how memories get clouded and fuzzy, particularly about routines. Sure, their victim worked for him. And, yes, she probably did the exact same thing every day, going to her paid internship at her father’s office Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday off, and spending Friday night bar-hopping with her friends. Yet there’s simply too much Marson was unaware of. The questions of who her friends are, what she did when she wasn’t working, her hobbies, any potential lovers, hell even where she lived, are all ones he provided no answer to or understanding of. To him, Sophie truly existed only in the hours between 8:00 am and 6:30 pm. Which isn’t exactly unusual, but it makes her job of following those leads harder, and she ends their interview feeling more irritated than she had when she started.

Dante, too, must be frustrated, because he says nothing at all to her when he leaves the observation room to join her at their desks, merely clacking angrily on his keyboard as he types his report. Lir does the same, transcribing the interview with Marson and her notes to send to Morrison later. A stiff drink is what she needs, maybe a call to Joan for a bit of relaxation, but she settles for chewing aspirin and drinking the bitter coffee unique to precincts. By the time she’s done recounting the events of the last thirty-six hours, her fingers are stiff and the throbbing in her temples has turned into a fierce clawing that makes her eyes water, and she’s keenly aware of the fact that they’re fast closing in on the forty-eight hour mark and how much more difficult this investigation is going to be beyond it.

“You eaten?” Dante asks. Lir shakes her head, and he picks up his phone, dialing quickly. “Me neither. ‘Bout to keel over, if I’m honest. You good with pizza?”

“Sure. Whatever toppings are fine.”

He flashes her a grin before speaking into the receiver, and Lir uses the time to read back over Trish’s findings. They aren’t pretty. While there were no ligature marks, showing that Sophie was neither restrained nor strangled, there were heavy levels of Rohypnol in her blood, meaning she would have been unable to do anything at all. In fact, Trish notes that the dose probably would have been fatal, given the fact that Sophie was well over the legal limit for intoxication, clocking a BA of 0.16%, putting her at the threshold for alcohol poisoning. Did she normally drink so much? Lir runs her fingers over the paper, frowning slightly as she thinks. Joan hadn’t said much more about Sophie’s habits other than her cocktail of choice, and they hadn’t asked for a receipt, a stupid oversight that needs to be corrected. Because if that much liquor was’t common for Sophie, it means either she was drinking a lot more, which could lead them to recent stresses.

Or that the killer was feeding her margaritas all night to make sure she was too weak to fight him.

“There was no phone recovered from the alley, right?” she asks. Dante gives a grunt as he hangs up the phone, and she leans back, stretching to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “We’ve got to find her friends, talk to them.”

“What about the mother?”

“Gone. Parents divorced when Sophie was . . .” Lir checks her notes. “Six. The original custody agreement was for the mom to have supervised visitation, but she went no contact when Sophie was twelve. The last Marson heard from her, she was living with her new husband in Portland.”

Dante whistles. “No contact? Think Marson was abusing her?”

“Maybe. But why would Sophie hang around, if that was the case? You watch your dad beat on your mom for six years and wind up working for him?”

He grunts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring thoughtfully at a spot just over her right shoulder. “Abuse doesn’t always make it to the kids,” he says after a moment. “Sure, maybe pops was an asshole, but he was probably smart enough to keep it behind closed doors. Or maybe there wasn’t anything goin’ on other than two people who didn’t want to be together anymore.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Could have been mom, too.”

“Right.” Lir massages her temples, and the pressure there subsides enough that she no longer feels like her eyes are going to burst. A migraine is the last thing she needs right now, but that’s exactly where she’s headed if she doesn’t get some sort of rest soon. “So, we have a victim whose father knows nothing about her personal life, a killer who was smart enough to make sure we couldn’t trace her beyond the bar, and, after nearly forty hours, no real answers.”

“Sounds about right.” Dante’s grin is bitter.

“Fuck.” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Crime scene still roped off?”

“As far as I know. You plannin’ a visit?”

“Yeah. I need to get some air, and I want to take it in now that it’s quiet.” Lir grabs her coat from the back of her chair as she stands, sliding it on before leaning to open her desk and grab her gun and badge. Fastening them to her belt, she mutters, “Maybe something got missed.”

Dante gets up, stretching with a loud yawn. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, Lir.” His eyes are somehow both grave and mocking, and she’s not sure which irritates her more. “There’s a killer. None of us should be goin’ out alone, especially with the statistics about who else might show up there to get their jollies.”

That gives her pause. “Right. Okay. You driving?”

He dangles his keys. Lips twitching, she turns and heads down the stairs and out to the lot, listening to the quiet thumping of Dante’s shoes as he follows her. For someone so big, he doesn’t make a lot of noise when he moves, and she wonders idly if it’s a force of habit or just how he is as she slides into the passenger seat of his car and fastens her seatbelt. Like always, he flicks on the radio and finds a classic rock station before starting the drive, and he ignores her popping two aspirin into her mouth and chewing them dry. 

The ride back to the alley passes in the silence between them. Lir looks out of her window, the rain sliding along the glass turning the world outside to a muted painting of blurred shapes and bright flashes of color on an otherwise dreary background, and thinks. Sophie Marsons had gone to the bar, as was her usual weekend habit, and ordered her preferred drink. Had she gone with friends? Had they danced, and laughed, until a stranger stole into their group, with eyes only for Sophie, eyes full of murder that she might have mistaken for desire? Despite what she had said to Dante about their victim being chosen randomly, Lir has little doubt that she knew her killer. Statistics point to it, the inevitable need for the comfort brought by familiarity that a new killer needs to do his work. Statistics, the voice of her old academy instructor rasps in her mind, are statistically incorrect.

If Sophie wasn’t the first, then there’s another victim out there.

Cold, bitter rain lashes her as soon as she steps out of the car. Huffing, watching her breath condense and twist in the air, Lir pulls her hood up around her face and tucks her hands into her pockets, wishing she had a slicker even if the garish yellow color of it would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Dante joins her, grimacing as he sets a black trilby on his head, water dripping from the brim steadily. “Good thing we already got forensics,” he mutters.

“Mm.” Making a non-committal noise in her throat, she ducks under the crime scene tape and walks into the alley, where she stands and takes it in. Without pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the street, it’s unnervingly quiet; is this how it was at four in the morning? Nothing but silence as the dull oppressiveness of the city while Sophie was carved open like livestock? 

Lir is moving towards the dumpster when something rustles behind it. Pausing, she stares at it, her brow pinched and her hand moving slowly to her gun, waiting. Cat, she thinks, or rat. Something digging for scraps now that humanity has gone away. But the silhouette she can just make out on the other side is too large, and, as she watches, a tanned hand grips the edge before a rain-soaked head pokes cautiously around, the eyes that she sees wide enough that the whites are like spotlights. Behind her, she hears Dante hiss, the faint splash of water as he slowly comes up beside her. Looks like he was right. Someone else had shown up, and now all that’s left to do is figure out whether or not they’re the murderer.

“Police,” Dante barks. “Don’t move!”

The man jumps to his feet and takes off, and Lir lets out a string of curses as she darts after him. They always fucking run, guilty or innocent, because seeing a cop always makes them feel like they’ve done something wrong. Bearers of bad news, thugs with guns, she’s heard it all, and she wonders how this guy thinks of the police even as she chases him down the winding alleys of a city she’s already growing to hate. “Thorne!” Dante shouts, his voice dwindling as the distance between them grows. “Goddamnit, Thorne!”

Up ahead, the black coat swirls as the man rushes through the maze. Sometimes all she has is a glimpse of fabric as he turns a corner, others, on the straight, narrow stretches, she can make out more of him, and her mind catalogues these snapshots. Slender build. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. The glint of a ring. A pair of wild eyes peering over his shoulder. Despite knowing she should draw it, Lir leaves her gun holstered. Don’t you ever, her instructor had said gravely, take that thing out unless you intend to shoot, and she’s got no desire to fire a bullet that would at best embed itself harmlessly into a wall and at worst ricochet and cause more damage.

Her hood falls back, rain plastering her hair to face and neck. In her chest, her heart is a drum, and her blood roars in her ears, equaled only by the low whistle of her breathing as she tries to control it to fight off fatigue. Keep moving, she tells her legs, don’t fucking stop until you know who he is.

At her hip, her radio crackles, only to be ignored. Right now, it is only her and her prey, locked in the chase until one of them is forced to stop. Guilty people run, sure. So do frightened ones. Which is he? Killer or morbid onlooker, dangerous or afraid? 

Lir never gets the chance to find out. They burst into a side-street, the cars around them blaring horns of fear and anger at this sudden intrusion, and a hand clamps onto her shoulder and yanks her back as a truck passes through the space she’d been about to step into. By the time it and its trailer clear out, the man is gone, and a scream bubbles in her throat that she fights to swallow. She knows who grabbed her—the scent of Dante’s cologne, muted by the rain, wafts into her nose, accompanied by the spiced, salty blend of sweat and deodorant—and she allows him to lead her back to the sidewalk, where she doubles over with her hands on her thighs and struggles to slow her breathing from the harsh, jagged pants to something close to normal. At this angle, she can make out the way water has turned the leather of his shoes a dull brown. Never gonna look nice again, she thinks, and closes her eyes against the swell of nausea that comes from exertion on an empty stomach.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dante growls, his voice rasping and hoarse from chasing her. “You ever stop to think for a damned second that we’d need backup? Or that chasing that idiot could have gotten you killed?”

The scolding makes her angry all over again. “I’m sorry,” she snaps, straightening to glare at him. “Should I have let our only lead so far go?”

“If it meant surviving? Yeah, you should’ve. Or were you hoping to wind up like Marsons?” His eyes are cold with fury, his cheeks flushed with it. “I told you, I fucking told you—”

Lir’s phone rings, cutting off whatever tirade he’d been heading towards. Scowling, she answers it. “Thorne.”

“You with Redgrave?” Morrison asks, crackling with static. 

“Yeah.” Dante makes an impatient motion with his hand, and she holds up a finger in the standard request for a minute of silence.

“Get your asses over to Tellula Park. He’ll know where it is.”

There’s something so foreboding about Morrison’s tone that Lir knows the answer to her question before she even asks it. “What’s there?”

Morrison sighs. “Another body. Looks like our killer didn’t want to wait for us to catch him.”

“We’ll be there.” She hangs up, then looks at Dante, frustration and defeat welling within her to make her voice curiously flat. “There’s another victim in Tellula Park.”

Dante curses. “Our guy?”

“Morrison said it was,” she replies.

He glances around, studying the street sign at the intersection. “C’mon. Car’s about two blocks away. We’ll have to book it if we don’t want Morrison to rip us new assholes for taking our sweet time.”

Lir nods. Dante turns and starts down the sidewalk, and she follows, craving a drink and a good night’s rest and maybe a bit of company, angry to have wasted time on some idiot onlooker when the killer was busy leaving them another corpse, another family to notify, another twisted web. I didn’t know, she thinks, and that just makes her feel worse. Tunnel vision, that’s what she had fallen into, too focused on what was in front of her nose to take a second to really contemplate if a killer who took such care not to be noticed would have been so stupid as to come back to the scene of his crime in the middle of the day with cops still around. 

They’re sweating and miserably damp by the time they reach the car. Dante pulls towels from the backseat for them to sit on—something her father had done, to keep water from damaging the seats—and turns on the heater to fight some of the chill. It’s only once they’re on their way to the new scene that he says anything at all. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lir’s head snaps towards him at both the words and the sympathy within them. Not that it’s unusual for cops to know how their partner feels, but usually that takes years of working together, not days, so either he’s particularly good and reading the people around him or he’s projecting. “What?”

“The new victim,” he explains. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. We had and have nothing to go on, and you chasin’ that guy didn’t get this one killed. Or,” his mouth twitches, “do you think you’re better than every other cop on the force?”

“Of course not,” she protests hotly. “I just . . .”

Dante cracks the window and lights a cigarette that he pulls from the pack in his door. “Look,” he says, exhaling smoke, “I get it. You’re new, gotta prove yourself, and this guy is a pain in the ass. But you ain’t got any control over him, or what he does. Only thing you can do is learn, be better, so you can catch him.”

It’s spoken in the same tone he might have used to console a weeping toddler, and she bristles. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I read your file.” He glances at her as he tosses the cigarette, still half-lit, out of the window. “You know what was top and center on the behavior section? Empathetic. You feel things, Thorne, feel ‘em deep, maybe, and that’s great for gettin’ inside the head of whoever’s doin’ this, but it means he can get inside your head, too, if you let him.”

She sinks into her seat, thinking of her dream, and gooseflesh breaks out across her arms despite the warm air blowing from the vents. “So what’s your drive, then? Fame? Promotions?”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Just don’t like bastards who hurt women, that’s all.” He pauses, then exhales slowly. “Look. I’m not gonna rat you out to Morrison. You made a decision that anyone else would’ve made. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking stupid decision, but . . . It stays between us. Right?”

There’s a rush of gratitude that she hates feeling. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees amicably.

[himbo-beel]

To Hell and Back  Again - Chapter 2

"Explain it again."

The dark haired man at the center of the table narrowed his eyes at Ami's demand and I flinched. His glower wasn't directed at me, but the intensity of his ire spread fast and wide throughout the room and I struggled not to fall under its weight. I wanted to grab Ami by the shoulders, to shake her and beg her not to make anything worse, but my feet were stuck to the floor. My knees shook and, if I could move, I wasn't sure I could even make it the few steps to her.

"You two are to be the two human students here at the Royal Academy of Diavolo. You will participate in classwork and extra-curricular activities for a period of one year, after which, you will be tasked with drafting a paper on your experiences and sent home."

Academy. One year. I wasn't immediately being attacked and my brain started to slow from its fight or flight panic to something just barely able to retain small words. Familar words. The connections were made, quickly, and I nearly lost control of myself again as realization settled heavy in my stomach. Or maybe it was insanity. Oddly enough, that was the only option that made sense and the irony of that nearly made me laugh.

This couldn't have been the educational program my manager had mentioned. It certainly wasn't any sort of vacation, either. I was just tired from work and after a few nights of restless sleep. I'd never had a history of hallucinations but that didn't mean they suddenly couldn't develop. Maybe my dinner had gone bad. Really bad.

I glanced at the people sitting at the table again and shrunk back at the pairs of eyes on me. The disdain on all of their faces looked so real. Dinner must have spoiled really, really bad.

"Any further questions," the one in the middle asked, though the way he sighed it made me think he wouldn't answer them.

I caught Ami open her mouth and I gave a sharp jerk of my head. I could only hope she saw me and the message got across. One more day alive was one more day I could figure out how to get us out of this situation. The cold, clammy feeling on the back of my neck made me think she hadn't, though.

"How about 'why are you scaring the newcomers so much', hm?"

The cold feeling turned freezing quickly, fast enough that all my muscles clenched against it and I could only stand in place while the suffocating pressure in the room increased tenfold. My locked knees became the only thing holding me up as another man, even taller and more imposing than the one in the middle of the table, strode into the room. He crossed to the table with ease, either unaware or uncaring of the dark haired man's glare, to stand besides him. The smile on his face didn't match the way he crossed his arms.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort, Lord Diavolo," he said, smoothing down the front of his jacket.

The taller one, Diavolo, hummed. I swallowed back a whimper when he turned to face us. "I'm sure you're still confused despite Lucifer's explanation, so I'll repeat it one more time. I, the future King of the Devildom, wish to see a better relationship between the three realms. To do that, I created this exchange program! Two of our students have been sent to the other realms while you have been chosen from the human world to attend R.A.D. along with two others from the Celestial Realm. As I'm sure you're aware, that means you'll be taking the classes and living in the dorms here."

"With angels?" The sound of my own voice startled me, both at the fact that I'd managed to say something at all, and that it had come out so small and rough. The feeble attempt made Diavolo smile.

"Yes. You'll be meeting them shortly."

"After we determine who will be overseeing your stay," Lucifer interrupted. The name fit him with his dark hair and eyes and glowering expression. "It is too dangerous for a mere human to wander the Devildom alone. One of my brothers will accompany you at all times." The reassurance from knowing there'd be angels nearby disappeared in an instant. "Mammon should do well enough."

"The Avatar of Greed," Diavolo chuckled. "What a choice."

Lucifer. Greed. If I wasn't insane already I was going to be. School in what was essentially Hell? Overseen by the Seven Sins? Because the straight up devil wanted to shake hands with humans? I was at a loss as to how to rationalize any of it. It almost made more sense to let everything simply keep happening.

Such as the phone call Ami was currently having. A phone call. In Hell. Devildom. Whatever.

I could only stare blankly as she handed the phone out for Diavolo to pass back to Lucifer and I barely jumped this time when Lucifer yelled something into the speaker. Were they talking to Mammon? The demon that was supposed to keep us safe? And the others…

None of them looked all to pleased to be there, let alone interested in us. A shorter blond was absorbed in a book while another on the other side of the table tapped away at something that… oddly resembled a gaming device. My eyes passed across the rest of them, my vision going blurry with each new brother, as Lucifer had called them. Behind the dark spots forming in front of my face I could just make out Lucifer point to each one and open his mouth, most likely to introduce them, but the rinigng in my ears was too loud to hear him. I swayed and didn't have the energy to flinch when a hand wrapped around my wrist to steady me. Something cold and solid was pressed into my palm and I lifted a brow at the phone left behind. I stared at it, blankly, as the rest of the conversation continued on around me as a distant hum.

I'd have to ask Ami what was going on after, I managed through the heavy fog in my brain as panic won out. No one seemed to mind, or care at least, as I rocked silently on my feet.

"Rotten bastard!"

The shout knocked me back to my senses and I jerked away from it, letting out a shout of my own as something tugged me back. I panicked and clawed at the hand still tight around my arm, whimpering as each finger replaced itself on my skin the moment I managed to pry it off.

"Stop, stop it," I heard after another minute of struggle, and I paused long enough at the familiar voice for Ami to cover her hand holding mine to keep me from trying to escape again.

We were walking. Outside. I lifted my face to the sky and tried to stay calm at the empty black above us. Behind, Lucifer and Diavolo followed us closely, and to the side… I moved closer to Ami, bumping my shoulder into hers. I couldn't feel her shaking against me and I wondred how she did it. She didn't look afraid and she hadn't sounded afraid when she questioned everything going on. And she wasn't afraid, now, surrounded by them.

"You can't run. We're going to the dorms," she said. She kept her hand tight on mine.

"-making me look after some stupid humans," the demon besides us continued to spit. "I'm only doing this babysitting job because Lucifer told me to. Not that I can't say no to him! I totally can!"

"Sure, sure," I heard Ami mutter under her breath, and it was the first time I felt the knot in my stomach unwind.

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 16

Hello Lovelies - I'm trying to stick with this despite everything. I'm considered essential industry so I'm still expected to report for work. It's a little scary at times. I would greatly appreciate any comments you have to let me know people are still enjoying this story.

Playlist Song:

John Mayer - Half of My Heart  

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

“Jericho!” She turns and flings herself at me, arms constricting around my neck, face buried in my shoulder. Her obvious joy at my appearance throws me off guard and I don’t respond to her. “Oh, you’re mad at me aren’t you?” That joy dissipates into sullen sadness.

I wrap one arm around her and run my hand through her hair, willing her to remain calm. Most of the patrons have wisely elected to ignore me coming to collect my drunk bride to be. Still, it’s not unwelcome to have Darius looming about discouraging them. “Of course not. I just didn’t know where you’d been tonight.” I had, in fact, been furious when Darius’s messenger reached me and I’d had to traverse all the way down to the slums to get her. Saying that to her now would accomplish nothing but upsetting her further.

So I lead her outside to the waiting carriage, Darius accompanying us. As if on some celestial cue, rain starts to shower down, threatening to soak us on top of everything else. I turn to Darius. “Thank you for sending for me. And for taking care of her until I got here.” Kat pulls out of my grasp and starts slowly meandering toward the carriage.

“She’s…” He considers his words for a moment. “She’s a real mess right now.” He doesn’t need to give voice to his concern, it’s plainly evident.

“I’ll take care of her.” For once it’s a promise I mean in all sincerity. He nods and turns back toward the tavern, presumably on his way to handle Draven. He’s a better man than I, keeping watch over those important to him. Kat’s come to a stop outside the carriage and I go to her, putting my hands on her shoulders, intent on getting her inside out of the rain.

“I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” I freeze. I’ve never known her to sound like this, like a small child on the verge of tears.

Am I the cause of this? I coax her to turn and face me and pull her close. “No worries Kitten, let’s just get home.”

“But if I’m too much trouble you won’t want me around anymore.” Have I somehow given her this notion?

She sniffles and I fear she’ll burst into tears. For once I’m at a loss for a course of action, I want to stop it, but I know not how to soothe her feelings. “Why ever would you think that?”

She shrugs, her head now laying against my chest. She feels like ice against me and I wrap my coat around her as the rain continues to beat down on us. “It happens.”

Damn it, Soreana. I shouldn’t have sent her to deal with her mother. I thought perhaps it would have gone smoother without my involvement. I should have just forced her compliance and left Kat out of it. I stroke my hand along her back. “It is raining, it is late, and you are very drunk. You need to go home and get some sleep.” I kiss the top of her head, unsure if I’m doing the situation any good. “All else can wait until the morning.”

She doesn’t respond but she’s pliant as I lead her to the carriage and help her in. She immediately gets as far from me as possible, leaning against the far wall. As we lurch forward, she curls in on herself, still looking terribly despondent. “Is there something I can do?”

She pulls her hand through her hair, more violently than usual, and shakes her head. “No.”

“Let me try.” There has to be some way to reach her.

“Why? It’s not like you care!” Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing, as she flings the words in my direction.

In that sudden transformation from sadness to fury, I’m taken unawares and react by instinct, her words cutting me as deep as one of her daggers. “Of course I do!” There it is, the forbidden thought, given voice and brought to life. It feels like something living, permeating the space between us. She at least yields and moves closer, leaning on me as I hold her. “I mean that, Kat.”

I told myself at the very beginning of all this that I would not become attached to Katarina. We would have a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more. That illusion was shattered that fateful night when I believed I had driven her away. I don’t even like to contemplate what it would have been like to go to her room and find she had actually gone. Somehow though, that was not the case, she had chosen to stay. Ever since then I’ve had to confront the truth, that I had failed to remain detached as I had so carefully planned.

That is really what brought on this whole marriage idea. She doesn’t need me, she never did, I deceived her into believing that. Once I leave to handle this rebellion, it is only a matter of time before she figures that out. If we are married though, she may be more inclined to stay. So I will do what I must. I can’t let go of her, and I know of no other way to keep her.

She makes a little contented noise and tightens her arms around me. If nothing else, the storm seems to have calmed and my little Kitten is happy for the moment. It doesn’t take long for her to find that place somewhere between sleeping and wakefulness. I fully expect there to be fall out from tonight, but at least we have this moment. Once we’re home, I tuck her into bed, letting her wrap herself around me once we’re both under the covers.

It’s barely past dawn when I have to leave her and I find myself regretting it. I had told myself that even though it was our wedding day, the Empire continued to need governance. In truth, I could have made arrangements that would have given us more time together. Deep down, I hadn’t wanted it to seem a thing of great import, particularly when I had downplayed it so heavily to her.

It’s frustrating to feel that I’ve botched this whole situation from the start. And so that evening, I find myself in the study, perched over the table for once clear of maps and battle plans, awaiting the Magistrate’s arrival with no small amount of dread. Kat is still upstairs, doing gods know what, so I’m left alone with my thoughts and more emotions than I particularly care for.

Feeling restless, I lift the cover of the little wooden box before me. Inside, on a velvet bed are two gold rings, each cast with my adopted house sigil of a raven in flight. They had been a last minute idea when she’d said yes, but it brought all of this into a concrete sense of reality. All things considered, they had turned out decent enough and I did hope she was pleased with the gesture. Where was she anyway? There are times I’m amazed she ever manages to assassinate any of her targets since she can seemingly never be on time.

There’s a light tapping at the door, which is of course not Kat. “Enter.” Face austere, eyes never locking with mine, Moira enters. “Yes.”

“Is there anything you require before the Magistrate’s arrival?” She maintains that neutral expression, even though her feelings on the matter at hand are known to be less than positive.

I’ve known Moira the majority of my life. She’s not much older than I am and she began her service here when she was just a girl. She’s been fiercely loyal to me and of all the household staff, she’s the one I trust. “Yes, could you please see what’s keeping Madame Katarina.” This has been the only issue between us in all these years. It is time for resolution.

Her expression darkens. “I will inquire but…” And it begins.

“But what?” I challenge her.

She stands fast instead of retreating. It would be admirable if it were not above her station to do so. “With all due respect Sir, you are familiar with her temperament. She will do what pleases her.”

I inhale a sharp breath, I had hoped it wouldn’t get this far. “It is not your place to have opinions on her behavior, Moira.” My tone’s harsh, it is time for her to accept Kat’s place here.

Instead of letting go, she goes even further beyond her place, pushing the boundaries of my patience. “She is a petulant child. She’s a scandal. She…”

“Moira!” I bark, cutting her off, that is more than enough. “She will be my wife before the sun sets. It is time she was given the respect due to her. I will tolerate nothing else. Is that understood?”

The choice is her’s to make. She gains control of herself, casting her gaze downward, returning to the dutiful servant. “Very well, Sir. I will go see to her.” She turns and leaves without another word. I am relieved she chose her position over her opinions. She’s been thorny about Kat from the start, but she does keep the household running smoothly, and it would be a tough task to replace her.

Kat burst through the door not long after she leaves, eyes telling me my message was relayed in a less than pleasant manner. She looks remarkably well given the events of last night. Does she remember what was said between us? “Satisfied? The Magistrate hasn’t arrived yet and you felt the need to send her to fetch me.” She doesn’t have her hair up and it’s become a messy scarlet halo around her, very fetching.

Ah, but now she’s mad at me. “I didn’t want us getting delayed. And please, learn to get along with Moira, you’ll need her when I’m gone.” I catch her hands just as she starts to make an angry gesture. “I know, I’ll speak with her before I leave.” I make note that she’s wearing an entirely new dress, emerald green trimmed in ebony. It exudes a sense of softness that’s out of the ordinary for her, an almost ethereal quality. Its meaning doesn’t escape me, it’s her wedding dress, she chose it specifically for today. Before now I could likely count on my one hand the number of times I have felt guilt for my actions, and now it threatens to devour me. None of this is properly done. “You look exquisite, it brings out your eyes.” I kiss her cheek, still holding her hands in mine.

I’ve stolen her momentum and I can watch as she gives up on her annoyance. “Thanks.” She smiles that slight, almost shy smile that tells me a compliment has truly pleased her. “Fine, I’ll try.” She concedes and returns my kiss.

“There’s something I wanted to show you before the Magistrate arrives.” She lets me lead her to the table where I pause for a moment, suddenly doubtful this idea will appeal to her. After a moment’s hesitation, I hand her the box, still unsure. “I thought they would make it a little more official.”

She lifts the lid and I await her judgment. “Really? You didn’t have to go through the trouble.” She sounds pleased and I can finally breathe. Excitedly she plucks hers out from the box and slips it onto her left finger. She stares at it for a moment before pulling it off to move to her right. “So we match.” My throat goes dry.

At last, the tapping at the door as the Magistrate announces himself relieves the situation. A slight little man, drowning in his robes of office, he shuffles in with no pomp about him. He’s almost a comical sight, but he’s known for his discretion. I am not strictly trying to keep this secret, but also I do not want my personal life to be a public spectacle. Not that we’ve ever managed to avoid that before now. He inclines his head toward me. “Good evening Grand General.” He turns to Kat, offering her the same respect. “Madame. I understand you wish for brevity, I will review your documents quickly and then we will begin.”

“You’ll find everything in order.” I gesture to the small pile that awaits him on the table; Soreana’s hard bought permission, a family lineage guaranteeing we are not too closely related, and our personal financial arrangement. He’s only been at it a minute or so before Kat is looking restless. I take my place next to her and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You will never learn patience, will you?” I lean down and whisper in her ear.

“It took you this long to realize that? So much for all that vision.” She nips my earlobe temptingly as she whispers back at me.

“Hmm, my vision is showing me having to teach my wife a little discipline later.” She bites her lip and shivers a bite. Let that thought sit with her.

“All seems to be adequately in order.” He lifts his gaze from the papers before him. “Shall we begin?”

“With all haste.” Kat and I turn to face one another and without thinking I reach to take her hands. Looking into her eyes, I’m unsettled all over again about this, but there’s no stopping what I’ve started.

“Absolutely. Do you, Jericho Swain, pledge your troth to Katarina and wherefore you shall bring her into your home as your true and only wife?”

“I so swear it.” I give her hands in mine a small squeeze. She does deserve more than this hurried, barely thought out, covert sham. How did it come to this? Again that guilt I cannot seem to shrug off, it could have been different.

“Do you, Katarina Du Couteau, pledge your troth to Jericho and wherefore you join yourself with him as your true and only husband?”

My breath holds still in the silence that follows. “I so swear it.”

He gestures at the box still open before us. “You may exchange rings if you wish.”

I gingerly take Kat’s from the box and place it on her proffered finger. The sleeve of her dress slides down her wrist and I’m confronted with that faded handprint that still mars her pale skin, a reminder of my other sins. I relive that night so often; that fear she tried to hide, but her eyes exposed. “You’re hurting me!” I shamefully lost control of the demon and worse could have happened. Have I kept my promise to do better?

Wordlessly she takes her turn, slipping my ring on and giving me a small smile. I should make this up to her, this whole stupid debacle. Mayhaps I should even let her go, at last, to give her the freedom I promised her. Once I’ve put down this rebellion and come home.

“I now declare you…” He’s cut off as Kat ambushes me with an eager kiss, teasing me with her tongue slipping into my mouth. He clears his throat. “Your signatures if you please.”

With ink applied to parchment, we’re officially wed, and it still does not sit right with me. The Magistrate briskly packs and with a final inclination of his head takes his leave. The door’s hardly shut behind him and Kat wraps herself around me. “We should go upstairs and celebrate, husband.”

I fear I will be undone by that word on her lips. I crush her against me and bury my face in her neck, digging my teeth into her skin to urge on those sweet little noises she makes. “If that is what my wife desires.”

I don’t give her time to answer but catch her up in my arms and sweep her off her feet, kissing her again. The sound of yet another tap at the door irritatingly interrupts us. “Yes.” I grind out, reluctantly setting Kat back down.

Moira at least has the decency to look apologetic. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, Sir, Madame, but there has been a delivery.” I gesture impatiently for her to be out with it. She hesitantly holds forth a note. “Madame Du Couteau has sent a wedding gift. You had best come and see.”

“What did she do?” Kat snaps, charging out of the room followed closely by Moira who valiantly tries to calm the storm. Dread filling me for whatever stunt Soreana has conjured up, I trail them.

Up ahead in the great hall, Kat lets out a yelp of surprise and that speeds me along. Coming out of the hallway I find her kneeling on the stone floor, Moira and another servant around her. “Aren’t you a sweet baby?” She coos to something in her arms that is hidden from me. I reach her side and, gods help me, it’s a drake hound pup. I despise drake hounds, they are noisy, ill-tempered, stubborn beasts.

The leathery skinned pup wriggles about even more at her words, black tongue lapping at her face. “You are precious.” Finally, she turns her gaze up to me as if just noticing my presence. “Look, Jericho, mother sent me one of her pups. It seems strangely kind of her.” Hardly, I’ve made no secret of disdain for them, Soreana likely knows of it. She stares down at the little fiend in her arms, enchanted.

“Kat, you know the amount of work that goes into the keeping a drake hound.” She needs to see sense on this matter.

“Obviously, I grew up with them.” She continues to blithely snuggle it.

“I don’t think…” How am I to put this to her?

The elation visibly drains from her. I am going to utterly ruin our wedding day all thanks to her miserable bitch of a mother. “I know, I can’t keep her. She’s too much work and she’ll make a mess of the house.” She pouts, not the dramatic playful pout I know so well, but with real dejection. “I just want your promise that she will be properly trained. If it would mean that much to you, you should keep her.” It very near causes me physical pain to say that.

Her mood brightens back up instantly. “You mean it?” I nod, fearing I won’t be able to make the words leave my mouth. She leaps to her feet, still cradling it. “Thank you.” I’m rewarded with a quick kiss and then the beast is abruptly thrust into my arms. “You two should get acquainted, scent is how they bond with their pack.”

Despite my instincts, I hold fast to prevent the squirming mass from dropping to the floor. “Just don’t let her chase Bea. She’ll have to adjust as is.” It continues to scrabble around, whimpering until Kat thankfully relieves me of it.

“Let’s get you settled in upstairs where I can keep an eye on you.” If I believed in gods I would tell you they had truly abandoned me. She heads for the stairs and turns back when she realizes I haven’t followed. “Are you coming? I still intend to have that celebration with you.”

“Right behind you.” I hurry behind her. I suppose if nothing else, I’ve done at least one thing today that made her happy.

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 51

Link and Mipha were back sitting on his bed. After their guarded escape from the base, they made their separate ways, but only after Dorian strictly instructed them not to breathe a single word to the reporters – or anyone – about the attack and the rise of Ganondorf. And despite Link's interrogations, Dorian provided no answers to where the next portal was, and no explanation to the attack that just happened.

Mipha held his arm carefully as she worked to heal the deep gash he had sustained in the battle. Her hands were warm on his skin and Link felt very aware of her touch. His hard expression softened, and he could no longer focus on all his unanswered questions. When she finished, she let her hands linger on his arm for a moment longer before pulling away. Neither had spoken since they returned to his room, and the silence between them felt heavy, though Link was unsure why.

“Thanks,” he finally said softly. He let his head rest against the wall and closed his eyes.

“Of course.” Mipha's voice was just as soft.

Link opened his eyes and glanced towards her. Their gazes met and she smiled sheepishly. He realized, then, how close they were to each other, and he couldn't help but to lean closer to her. Mipha met his gaze, her lips pursed together.

There was a sudden loud knock on the door, and Aryll's voice shouted his name. Link jumped back, the distance between them growing dramatically, and he shot an angry glare towards the door. “What!”

The door opened and Aryll bounded into his room. “I saw you on tv, Link!”

“Great,” Link muttered. He pulled his knees to his chest and turned to Mipha, but she was averting her gaze, staring down at her feet.

“You too, Mipha!” Aryll continued. “I saw you all! You kicked butt!”

To Link's dismay, his father poked his head around the doorway. He studied them for a moment. “Fortunately for you, the camera did you a favor by adding ten pounds.”

Link narrowed his eyes on his father. “What do you want?”

His father crossed his arms and Aryll continued to jump excitedly around the room.

“You're gonna be famous!” she said. “And everyone's gonna want your autograph!”

“I hardly think so,” their father said. “In fact, their doing a hell of a job of slandering your names already.”

Mipha frowned. “Slandering us? How?”

He shrugged a shoulder and turned on the tv. A reporter flashed on the screen mid-sentence, her brows knit together with determination.

“...attack is unclear. Whether the legends are true or not, what is clear is that Hyrule is in grave danger.”

The screen flashed to another reporter who stood outside of the base. “The king has made no comments about the attack as of yet, but we'll stay on scene to catch the latest developments as soon as they happen. We're expecting the king will make a statement shortly. Until then, stay tuned.”

The screen flashed again, back to the newsroom where two more reporters spoke to one another.

“Can we talk about those kids for a second?” he said, turning to his partner.

“I can confirm that none of them are recruits,” she said in response. “And their ages are currently being questioned.”

“What in the name of Hylia would they be doing in the middle of a war zone?”

She shook her head. “We don't have any footage of the battle, either.”

“Do you suppose, then, that the legends are true? That we are supposed to put the fate of our world in the hands of a bunch of teenagers?”

“I have yet to see any proof that they are the living embodiment of Hylia and her supposed Chosen Hero. It's nothing but nonsense, and they're only going to get killed.”

The screen flashed to a woman who was being interviewed. “They're just children,” she said, her brows knit together. “Who could have allowed them to get caught up in this mess?”

The screen flashed to another interviewee. The man was clearly angry. “It's not right,” he said. “Especially if they're minors.”

The screen flashed to Dorian, making his earlier statement. The six wide-eyed Champions could be seen behind him.

Link got to his feet and shut off the tv. He turned to glare at his father.

“Don't get all cranky with me,” he said to his son. “Besides, this isn't your problem.”

Link crossed his arms. “I get no respect around here.”

His father grinned and turned to leave. “Yeah, get used to it.”

“I believe you,” Aryll said, turning her gaze to her brother. She smiled up at him. “You can do it!”

Mipha stood and sighed. “Now that my face is plastered all over the news,” she said. “I should probably go and prepare for the wrath of my parents.”

Link frowned at her. “I'll come to your funeral.”

“Thanks,” she said with a grin, but it quickly disappeared. Her stomach knotted with the idea of facing her parents and telling them the truth. She was sure they would be as doubtful as the rest of the world was. And, of course, there was no easy way to explain to them that their daughter was putting her life on the line every day for the sake of Hyrule.

“How did you convince your father to be okay with all this?”

Link snorted. “I didn't have to. He already knew.”

Her brows furrowed. “He knew?”

“It doesn't matter,” he said quickly. He hesitated. “I'd offer to help, but I don't think your parents would be very happy seeing me right now, either.”

“You're probably right,” she admitted. “It's alright. I'll be fine. I'll text you later.”

Though Link had no interest in the gossip shared by the news reporters across the channels, he waited anxiously for the king to make his appearance, staring anxiously at the screen. Aryll lay on her stomach on the floor, coloring in a coloring book and humming happily to herself while her father and brother sat on the couch.

“We're live in front of the palace where King Roham has just stepped out -”

Link cast his eyes back to the screen. The camera zoomed in and focused on the very serious looking king of Hyrule as he took his place behind a podium, ready to address the crowd of reporters and civilians that had gathered despite the late hour. They fell momentarily silent as the king spoke. Behind him, just at the edge of the view of the camera, Link spotted Zelda, her expression serious, yet she regarded her father with wary caution and curiosity. It seemed she was just as unaware of how her father would handle the situation as the rest of the world was, waiting patiently.

The king wasted no time with a needlessly long introduction, nor did he sugar coat the situation. “As you may be aware,” he began, “there was an attack outside of the city.”

The crowd began to murmur, but they fell silent once more as the king continued.

“I can assure you that the attack did not stem from our neighboring countries. Hyrule remains at peace with our allies.” King Roham hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “However, there is an evil that threatens this kingdom. The attack this evening came from Ganondorf's forces, which can only mean the return of the King of Darkness, Ganondorf himself.”

The crowd erupted at that moment, shouting their questions and accusations at the king. The reporters thrust their microphones and cameras as close to him as the security details would allow them, their faces mixed between anger, confusion, and fear. King Roham looked over the crowd for a moment, then raised a hand in an attempt to quiet them. When they did not, he continued, his voice booming as he spoke over them, and they quickly quieted once more to listen.

“I can assure you that I am taking every precaution to keep this city and this kingdom safe from Ganondorf and his dark forces. Troops have been stationed across the country and are prepared for whatever may come.” He paused, listening to the reporters as they shouted their questions at him. After a moment, the crowd quieted once more, eager to hear his answers.

“The legends are indeed true,” he said in answer. The crowd waited with baited breath. Zelda's eyes moved to her father, her lips pressed together as she waited, and he continued. “Though a grave darkness threatens our home, we are not without light, without hope. Just as we this kingdom has done in the past, we will overcome. We are prepared. We will stand strong in the face of evil, and we will keep this world safe from all who dare threaten it.”

Despite his confidence, many in the crowd remained skeptical, and their questions turned to the teens that were seen in the barracks. Though there was no footage to prove what had taken place on the battlefield, rumors spread quickly from those who had caught a glimpse of the heroes who threw themselves into the battle and came out victorious.

“There are many people involved in this impending war with Ganondorf,” he said simply. “It is their duty to ensure the safety of Hyrule, and it is my duty – the duty of our troops – to keep them safe. I can assure you that Hyrule is in the best hands possible.”

He was avoiding a direct answer, of course, but it was not enough for the reporters, and only angered them more. They demanded the truth. They demanded to know of the mere children and the roles they would play. They wanted answers.

“As you can imagine, the situation at hand is a very delicate one,” King Roham continued. “We are doing everything in our power to keep all involved safe and keep the threat of Ganondorf at bay. There will be no further questions at this time.”

The reporters lurched forward as the king turned to depart from the podium, but the security detail held strong against the rioting crowd. Zelda quickly followed her father into the palace, and the cameras turned violently back to the reporter. The woman stared open mouthed into the camera for a moment, but a voice in her ear caught her attention. Her expression hardened and she nodded once before speaking into the microphone with the news stations logo on it.

“It seems we won't be getting any more details at this time.”

The camera cut back to the two reporters back in the news room. They glanced to one another with wary expressions before regarding the camera once more. On news stations all across Hyrule, reporters were expressing their doubts towards their king's press conference, more questions raised than answered. It seemed there was nothing more they could do but utter gossip and wait for war to break.

[adrianroan-blog]

The Name (Scene 1)

Even in a world where soulmates can choose to wear each others' names into the next life, religious bigots and extremists still present an obstacle.  They maintain certain pairs are a test of faith, rather than ordained by their God.  

Bren grew up in a foster family full of them, unaware he's been living a lie ever since they scarred out the real name on his chest.  However, all of their hateful scheming cannot overcome his true romantic destiny. Warnings for:  Abuse and religious homophobia (with a happy ending) Story behind the “keep reading” tag.

***

Bren kissed along his full name, etched into Cara’s skin just above her right breast and curling toward her shoulder in gold script.  The mark of soul mates.  He meant it less as an adoration of his own name and more in wonder of what it meant.  An uncommon bond carried through several lifetimes.  

Most couples elected for a fresh start, neither able to lie as they chose whether or not they wanted to meet again in their next life or start anew.  Or so the legends said.  Only a rare few remembered choosing and not everyone believed them.

Still, occasionally a baby was born with a name scrawled in the skin over their heart.  The name of their soulmate with a level of love going back at least a lifetime, often many.  Living proof of both reincarnation and soulmates. No matter what, they often found each other by happenstance, the exchanged names merely proof of what they felt when they looked at one another.  

Bren loved the idea of it.  Though some of the legends spoke of broken pairs. If one of them died before meeting in the next life, or they died at different times, one might choose to be born with their name while the other chose a clean slate.  The promise of a soulmate kept him positive on his worst days.  A sensitive child, he’d grown up bullied and often punished by his foster mother for not acting enough like a godly man.

Her favourite, Bren’s older foster brother, was often cruel and fond of making Bren’s full name, Bréanainn, sound more feminine, calling him a fag, sissy boy, and roughing him up.  Pronounced brenning, Jack distorted it into bruh-neen and he only scoffed when Bren relied on the safety of his soulmate’s obviously feminine name.  I am not, I’ll marry a girl named Cara!  A sucker punch usually followed Jack’s scoff if Bren failed to climb up the tree in the backyard fast enough.    

His foster mother was really little better and rarely said a bad word to Jack.  In fact, she often claimed his tough, brotherly love was just the example Bren needed to grow into a proper man.  Miserable, Bren ran away multiple times and always failed.  The last time, he’d nearly succeeded.

It resulted in multiple sessions with a therapist and the kindly old children’s church director--the only person he particularly liked in his life at the time.  The therapist sessions only made his life worse as a child.  He became a sissy and a crazy.  Still, even against Jack, Cara became more than a name once etched in his skin.  She became a safe word. 

Life only got easier once he escaped it in his mind, wondering how fantastic and beautiful Cara might be.  Once Jack and mother Cochran saw.  He would be man enough for her, they’d already chosen each other before and he would take them both far away from here.

Except here they were.  She was fantastic, beautiful, with her perfect curves, sun-kissed skin, and long honey hair...but they still lived in Vicksburg, Mississippi, having announced their engagement last week.  A pressured decision they’d based on his restlessness over the last few weeks.  He still wanted away.  Ireland made the top of his list, being from there originally (overcoming his accent had been hell as a kid), but having no memories of it.  She promised an extended honeymoon there, and so they finally set a date and made their announcement.

His wayward thoughts of leaving often set him wondering if his childhood accident negatively affected his love for Cara.  As if the burn scar over her name also marred his emotions.  Before he even knew how to read, he’d crashed into an ironing board and fell on the hot iron.  Bren couldn’t even remember the event, just the pain of healing and a sense of burning shame.  He’d only been in Mother Cochran’s foster home a few days before it happened, actually.

I love her, he reminded himself firmly, repeated it in his head in litany.  True enough, he did, at least he thought he did, but beyond that….  Well, he never could say he felt it with the same power legend gave such soulmates.  In fact, he barely noticed her the first day she attended his church’s youth group.  

However, he paid extra attention once she introduced herself.  Cara McFadden.  Cara.  The one name with the power to make him a nervous wreck, if only because his foster mother told him what name he’d worn.  Her name had been scarred out before he could even read.  

All the same, she had been ecstatic and praising God the moment Bren introduced them.  “You’re so lucky to have found God’s perfect match for you.  Don’t let him get away now,” she’d said, wagging a finger at Cara.  His life at the home only got easier as he began dating Cara with full approval of mother Cochran and Cara’s parents.  It was as if their being together erased all the trauma and trouble of the past.  He could even bet Jack had been jealous when he first spied Cara on Bren’s arm.  Bonus, Cara’s parents loved him.

Despite strict home rules, they’d barely even gotten in trouble the first time they were caught making out.  In fact, to his surprise, despite the words they spoke, he came away with the sense all of the adults were happy they’d begun getting physical.  Relieved, even.  But where his life had been miserable, Cara had enjoyed the life of a suburban princess.  She confessed that the only time her parents had ever told her no was when she once asked for fencing lessons.  Too violent.  They talked her into violin instead, a skill she’d taught Bren in turn over the last few years.

He’d never really known or remembered happiness before her family moved to Vicksburg and began attending his foster family’s church.  However, this made hardly the first time he wondered if her burned name had somehow affected their bond.  It helped little that he’d lost most of his faith in God over years of misery while she went full in, attending every event, especially recently.  In fact, their religious upbringing was the entire reason they were getting married now, before he had a proper job or even more than his own basic bachelor pad.

Her parents were gifting them a house, but it was more Cara’s guilt that they’d slept together outside of marriage.  They were being pressured all around about it, but Cara generally agreed.  Even though they were soulmates, and therefore married in other lives, they should get married in this one too.  Not for the first time, Bren worried about marrying her as well.  His was a fairly unique name, but not unheard of.  What if they were the wrong Bréanainn and Cara?  What if it wasn’t the scar at all that left him doubting, what if they were actually with the wrong person?

Cara stirred in her sleep.  “Mmm...whatcha thinking about?”  She mumbled with a small smile on her lips.

“How lucky I am,” Bren lied, trying not to let guilt show.

“No, you’re worrying about something.”  She knew him well enough, at least.

I can’t tell her….  “I’m wondering if I deserve you at all.”  True enough.  After all, she’d shown nothing but warmth and commitment for each and every one of his unexpressed doubts.  “Cara…”  He loved her name, the sound of it.  He felt safe with it on his lips.

She brushed her fingers over the burn scar that was her name, smile faltering.  “I wonder the same sometimes...if I deserve you, I mean.”

The admission surprised him.  “Why wouldn’t you deserve me?”

She shrugged and looked away.  “I’m spoiled.  I get everything I want and you say my name with so much...reverence.  I just...I worry I’ll disappoint you.  Sometimes I feel...incredibly selfish.”  She shook her head and nibbled at her bottom lip until he kissed it.

“God’s will brought us together again, we should trust that.”  Bren tried not to sound hollow when he spoke of God, but he felt perhaps Cara needed her own comfort phrase.  She tended to smile any time she spoke it aloud.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she nodded mutely, then shook her head.  “What if….”  But she never finished, she only kissed his scar and cried until he calmed her down.  Mixed in his assurances were words of self-blame and the silent tears he cried with her.  If he’d not been so damned clumsy, this would have been perfect.

“We’ll see it through,” he soothed at her hair.  “We’ll be okay.”

He struggled with believing his own words, but it only grew harder as the date of their wedding neared, especially after he began sleeping in their new house.  Stifling reality filled every brick of their new home, concrete existence in every splinter.  All of it built far too close--a permanent Vicksburg trap.  He wanted free of this place.  To go somewhere, anywhere he could get away from his foster family, stop attending church, separate the misery of his childhood from the happiness Cara promised.  

Unfortunately, the idea of a permanent move put such fear in Cara’s eyes, claiming she couldn’t move so far from her family, needed this church and this town as much as she needed him. At the promise of a honeymoon in Ireland, he’d dropped it and never brought it up again.  

Only a few days later Cara’s father had offered Bren a starting position in his company with a promise for growth.  It paid well, and Bren found he had a knack for pleasing customers using the same sensitivity his foster mother often scolded him for.  So of course their new house would be in town.

The closer their marriage date loomed, the more off every little detail felt.  A series of wrong that only made both him and Cara more nervous.  Months later, Ireland no longer seemed promising, or even desirable.  Instead, it felt little more like the superglue applied to the trap door, personally applied.

Then something shifted.  Bren couldn’t say what, just an elusive, nebulous feeling, something...right for a change, but just out of sight.  At their rehearsal dinner only a few days before the wedding, it settled in with a hum.  

Bren found himself staring at a familiar face across the fancy restaurant.  One he couldn’t quite place.  This man’s return stare and mischievous smile held him frozen in a heart-stopping way he’d never experienced before.  Until the loud squawk of his foster mother’s voice cut straight through the spell.

“Oh!  What a lovely wedding gift!”  She jostled his elbow with both hands.

“Hm…?”  He looked away and at her seated on his left, Cara on his right.

She scowled at him.  “Do pay attention, boy, Brother McFadden here was just saying he bought you and Cara one of those scenic Alaskan cruises for your honeymoon.”  Her voice took on a scolding quality.  “Man’s already gotten the two of you your first home, you’d think you’d be more grateful.”  She grumped and pursed her lips as though someone had shoved a lemon in her mouth.

So much for Ireland.  

Inexplicably, Bren glanced back at the stranger with his short and artfully tousled, warm brown waves of hair, rather than at Cara.  Only when the man frowned down at his dinner rather than watch in return did Bren glance at the correct person with a sheepish smile and a faint blush.  He chalked the experience down to nerves, though attempted recognition still played at the edge of his mind.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, apologizing to Cara’s dad before he kissed her on the cheek.  “That’ll be lovely, won’t it Cara?”

“Thank you, Daddy!  It sounds beautiful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of dinner crawled by, Bren finding the crowds increasingly pressing and noisy as he soaked up every nearby emotion from irritation to outright joy, even a little fear.  All part of being too sensitive, noticing little things most people missed, soaking up errant emotions like a sponge.

Overwrought and feeling a touch nauseated, Bren excused himself for the bathroom, if only for the quiet it promised.  He snuck a little time for some fresh air afterward, stepping just outside the doors and leaning against the building in his fancy blue suit with his eyes closed.  

“You smoke?”  A vaguely familiar, male voice asked, his tone sounded off for the casual question, but it stopped Bren’s heart a beat all the same.  He looked over and saw the man from earlier.

Bren shook his head.  “Just...needed some air.”  He swallowed hard and looked away, determined to avoid staring at all costs.  He wondered if his nervous state showed in the smile he forced on his face.  “Do you?”  The other man held his coat, keys in hand as though he’d stopped in the process of leaving, not merely coming outside for a smoke.

“I know the value of fresh air,” he said and leaned against the wall nearby.  "Doesn't work much on cold feet, or so I hear."

When Bren snuck a look, he found this intriguing man openly watching him with a pensive expression.  Almost a head shorter, he nonetheless stood with all the confidence Bren lacked.  The small black gauge piercing in one ear and barbel rods through the upper shell caught Bren's eye next.  Then his words struck him.  “Cold feet?  No...I just--I don’t do well in crowds for too long.  Too much...noise.”

Silence passed between them for several moments before the other man filled it, holding out his hand for a polite shake.  “Caleb Teeks.”

Bren looked up and hurt at the sight of the other man’s tight smile.  He thought he detected disappointment as well.  Caleb had expected something.  Perhaps he expected me to at least recognize his name?  Bren’s brow furrowed as he accepted Caleb’s hand.  “Bren.”

“That...short for something?”  A tight quality strained Caleb’s voice.

Only then Bren realized they still held hands, a natural thing he hadn’t even thought about.  He let go now and hated the frown on Caleb’s face as a result.  “Yeah...I’m sorry, do I know you?  I mean before tonight?  I feel like I recognize you but I can’t say from where...Sorry.”

“There you are, Lord, give me patience,” Mother Cochran grumped after she flung open the door.  Her eyes narrowed on Caleb.  “Who are you?”

“Caleb Teeks, ma’am.”  He introduced himself again and balked at the hateful scowl his name received.

Her expression only confused Bren further.  In turn, he gave Caleb a more thorough look.  Should I recognize him based on her obvious dislike?  A stranger she argued with perhaps?  Nothing fit.  

“Well, I’m not particularly fond of my given name either, but what’s your problem with it?”  Both Caleb’s expression and voice turned cold.

Mother Cochran sniffed.  “Your kind is not wanted here.”  She kept an accusing look on Caleb until after the last word, where she glared at Bren and motioned him at the door.  “And you have a beautiful, God-given bride waiting on you with your name etched over her heart.”  She threw a final glare at Caleb, who frowned further.

“My kind?”  He laughed without any humor in it.  “Which part of me isn’t welcome?”  He turned his look of disbelief on Bren and got a wincing avoidance in response.

“Come on, Mother--”  Bren tugged her by the arm and toward the door, away from Caleb, but she yanked her elbow away and sized the poor man up with a stubborn and open glare.  

“You know very well which part.  I saw you watching throughout our dinner, I’m not blind, waiting to attack when he’s out here alone.  Godless, perverted--Well, you’ll not have him.  I raised him a god-fearing man and he has his name etched over the heart of that girl in there, her name over his.  Soulmates.  God’s match.”  She turned away and wrenched open the door, glaring openly at Bren.  “Inside, now.”

“I have a man’s name over my heart,” Caleb said and stopped Mother Cochran cold.  “Soulmate.  ‘God’s match.’”  He looked at once both challenging and nervous, wound up for a fight.  

Bren watched at least four different emotions struggle for reign over Mother Cochran’s features and furrowed his brow.  A small voice told him to drag her away, back inside.

“That,” she spat, “Is not God’s match.  It is Satan’s poor imitation, a trap keeping you away from heaven.  Give into it too many lifetimes and you’ll descend to hell after your final reincarnation.”

“Good thing I’m pagan then.”  He caught Bren’s eyes one last time, a meaningful and thoroughly disappointed look before he left her blustering while he headed into the parking lot.

Heavy guilt washed over Bren in his wake and he rounded on Mother Cochran as a result.  “Doesn’t God say to be kind…?  Judge lest ye not be judged?  Throwing stones?”  Bren barely checked himself from railing against her for a change, wanting nothing more than to run after the other man and apologize.  His break for fresh air only left him far more nauseated than before.

She cuffed his ear hard and shoved him through the door.  “Respect your parents and don’t sass your elders.  Wipe that disrespectful look off your face.”

He felt no better by the time they reached the table.  “Sorry I left you worrying.”  He kissed Cara’s cheek again.  “I went outside for some fresh air, not feeling so well.”

After a sympathetic sound, Cara pulled back and brushed his ear.  “Why’s your ear all red.”  

His foster mother glared warning.  “Wasn’t paying attention, smacked into something.”

“Always clumsy,” the old woman clucked.

Cara got the full story out of him that night and it sent her in a full, angry rant against his foster mother.  “How unchristian of her!”  She finished with frustrated tears.  

Bren only found himself more confused as he spent the better part of half an hour comforting Cara. She cried hard enough she shook and clung to him, reacting as though she’d had a direct confrontation with the old woman.  

He rocked her back and forth, crying his own silent tears.  The moment struck him as one full of deep wounds she kept stubbornly hidden, on a par with grief, rather than brought on by the night’s events.  It somehow resonated with him in a confusing way.  He chalked it up to their soulmate connection and his overactive empathy.  However, it wasn’t her pain he saw when he closed his eyes.  No, he kept repeating Caleb’s disappointed gaze as he walked away.

Cara tried speaking several times but only ended up apologizing before he drove her home. --------------- Scene 2 has just started up on our Patreon for $1+ users, with a new page update every MWF. You can wait it out for the next free content release, of course, but we’d love if you considered supporting our future work.  Even if all you can afford is to spread the word.  Every little bit counts and thank you for reading! 

[50cyg]

Ordering the shots from the Kyosei PVs. Plus some interesting things you may not have noticed.

As I’ve already expressed several times on this blog, I've been obsessing over the Kyosei PVs lately as a way to distract myself. I gave myself a challenge, and decided to try to order the shots we have gotten into their correct chronological order. While doing so, I noticed several things about the shots that I will also be pointing out. 

This post is very long, but if any of you are interested I think I’ve noticed some cool things maybe you missed :) I hope you enjoy

For my previous prediction posts see here and here. Or you can look at my #50cyg tri predictions tag on my blog

Note: If the pictures have a pink border it means I am using them for reference, all other shots are in what I believe to be their chronological order (unless stated otherwise).

The shot above is very obviously near the very beginning of the movie, it’s Meiko waking up on the ship. I expect that she will wake up only after Meicoomon has traveled back to the human world via some kind of portal. I also think there will be approximately a day between the appearance of Meicoomon in the real world and the Chosen Children’s arrival back in the real world. More on that in a moment.

Moving onto the above shot of Taichi, wherin he says “We became friends because we were chosen, right?”. I know a lot of people think this shot takes place at the same time as these later shots:

My assumption regarding those shots is that they take place at night inside this cave:

Keeping that in mind, in the shot with Taichi, it is clear that he is outside. If he were standing outside of the cave, then I don’t think the light from the fire inside the cave would be bright enough to light up his face as much as it is. The background of the scene looks to me like it could be the background from around where the kids are fighting at the end of Soshitsu (Loss):

Therefore, my conclusion is that this scene with Taichi takes place after Meiko has woken up and the children have decided to set up camp for the night before moving out in the morning. I don’t really have any concrete theories as to who Taichi is talking to in this scene, it could really be anyone, I think it’s possible he’s talking to the whole team.

Okay, after the night is over I think the kids head out, maybe in search of a way back to the real world. Potentially they don’t know Meicoomon has escaped to the real world yet and so are wandering the Digital World looking for her. Anyway I think this leads into them getting attacked by vines:

They probably start getting attacked in multiple different ways by the Digital World, completely unaware as to what’s going on until Hikari comes to the conclusion that “The Digital World... it hates us... it believes we’re an interference.”

This is also potentially why all the Digimon look so tired in this shot, they’ve been running around trying to protect their partners from whatever the Digital World is trying to do to them. My assumption is that Tailmon isn’t tired because she’s a champion, or because she’s just naturally more resistant to getting tired than the other Digimon. 

Then the children go to take shelter in a cave. We then get Koushiro explaining that “Right now, it's likely that the Digital World sees us as a virus-like existence”:

Tailmon is then prompted to say “At the very least, we don't hate Hikari, nor the rest of you.” due to Hikari’s former statement about the Digital World hating them:

The kids decide to stay the night in the cave. We then get all the following shots (I don’t have any particular order for these shots in mind, only that I think they all take place in the same scene. The order you see is a loose idea of what I think the order could be but I’m not attached to it):

(Because they share the poster together I think it’s likely this shot is of Hikari holding Meiko’s hand)

Lines that we have confirmed in this scene:

Hikari saying “Meicoomon’s your valuable partner too! No matter what form she becomes, the feelings you really want to tell her will definitely get through.”

Yamato saying “We’re not just Chosen... we’re the Chosen Children!”

I think this scene is just going to deal with Meiko’s concerns regarding Meicoomon, likely brought on by the fact that she blames herself for the Digital World rejecting them. The other kids just try to comfort her as per usual.

While the Chosen Children are in the Digital world for a whole day, Meicoomon has appeared in the real world:

We get Hackmon’s convo with Daigo and Meiko’s dad:

We get Daigo saying “Is there really nothing that can be done even with the power of their Partners? Is there still any hope?!”

And Hackmon saying “There's nothing else that neesd to be said at this point. As a foreign body, it will be eliminated.”

Digimon start showing up in the real world:

I do think the following shots are shots of Meiko’s dad, and I think he is watching the news reports about the monsters appearing and the destruction they are causing. This scene likely foreshadows some kind of decision he will make either in this movie or the next that will impact the Chosen Children:

The following sequence is interesting, I think it takes place not long after the children have arrived back in the Real World. We see Hikari being supported by Sora and she’s smiling at something off to the side. Then we get Meiko react to something she sees and she starts off running with Hikari looking at her worriedly:

@crazynerd815 put forth a really interesting theory that, because Hikari appears to be holding her left shoulder, she’s been cut by Meicrackmon which results in an infection that she tries to keep contained throughout the film. This moment could take place after a flare up, or maybe after the initial cut.

The reason I’m not completely on board with this theory is that if she’d been cut on her shoulder than I think logically we should see a tear in her uniform as a result. Paying close attention to Hikari throughout the rest of the PVs, at no point do we see any tear, and I don’t think she’d have time or reason to go home and change.  

I do however, agree with the theory that she gets some sort of infection early on that doesn’t take full effect until near the end of the movie.

I mentioned this earlier but I think Hikari is smiling at Taichi in this scene, it just looks similar to the relieved smile she has on when she sees Taichi in Soshitsu (Loss):

Back to Meiko, I think she starts running because she’s seen Meicoomon and so heads towards her. I also think this will lead into her saying “Am I...no longer your partner?” as she tries to talk to Meicrackmon.

It’s worth noting that in the above shot we see Meiko pursued by 4 people. Even though the 4 people are further away and therefore a little hard to see I have concluded that they are Taichi, Yamato, Daigo and Mimi. This scene really messed with my brain because Daigo is wearing his lab coat instead of his government uniform, which means he must have changed since the earlier shot. But after talking to @poison-glasses I’ve decided that the logical explanation for this is that the convo with Hackmon took place the day before, and he’s just changed since then (potentially because he was on school grounds before his appearance in this shot).

Because Meiko is being pursued by Mimi, Yamato and Taichi, I figure it makes sense that she is running towards Meicoomon and it leads into this scene:

Lilymon, MetalGreymon and Weregarurumon are chasing after Meicrackmon and it looks like they are merely trying to catch her but not harm her.

This leads into Meicoomon’s evolution sequence from Perfect (Ultimate) to Ultimate (Mega):

(The above shots are three separate sequences in the trailers but I think they are all one continuous sequence in the movie).

This prompts Jesmon’s appearance (this looks like an appearance shot to me, I think this is our first shot of Jesmon for this film):

I think the following shot is the Chosen looking at Jesmon:

WarGreymon then evolves at some point after this:

Which I then assume eventually leads into this scene (since we see the same 4 Digimon from earlier but at one level higher):

A thing to note about the above shot, both Metalgarurumon and WarGreymon appear to have just been hit by two of Jesmon’s Trio (their names are Atho, Rene and Por :P they are the little fireball things that fight alongside Jesmon). Therefore, I have concluded that in this scene Jesmon is fighting against the Chosen, which means they must be trying to protect Meicoomon as we know Jesmon is trying to destroy her. This also lines up with my comment earlier about believing that Lillymon, MetalGreymon and WereGarurumon were just trying to catch Meicoomon and not harm her.

Okay, I don’t know how or why but my belief is that this battle will end for some reason. I don’t think it will be a continuous fight that leads into the later fight we see in the desert type area.

But I do think the above fight is followed by the Children being chased by people, “Due to being with their partner Digimon they are then chased by other people.  Isolated and hopeless, they desperately search for a solution; only one continues to worry, which is Meiko.”

I think the events of being chased by other people leads the Chosen to go hide out at the school, in Daigo’s room. It appears to be sunset so I think a whole day has passed since the previous nighttime shots in the cave.

In the following scenes I think we will get back story from Meiko regarding Meicoomon. I also think it’s in this scene that we will get the line from her “An unneeded existence... An existence that should not have been born...”

The following shots are all from Meicoomon’s backstory (I don’t have an order for these shots in mind, only that I think they are all from the flashback):

I think the shot of Meicoomon in the forest may be from at attempted escape. I think it’s possible Meicoomon has been being experimented on (actually if I’m not mistaken this has been officially stated somewhere). We see a shot of her locked up in a cage, which either means she isn’t treated well or perhaps she is being locked up as a result of her going on a rampage. I think the shot where she looks angry came before the rampage we witnessed in the Soshitsu’s (Loss) flashback:

Lines confirmed to happen in this scene:

Taichi saying “Right now, there’s someone out there who needs you more than anyone else---It’s Meicoomon.”

Mimi saying “You---no--we are Meicoomon’s [only] hope!”

Okay, moving on to the the following shots of the Digimon. This one was a lot of fun for me to figure out where it went in the story.

The clue was in the background behind Agumon and Gabumon. You’ll notice there is writing on the wall, which looked to me like ink on paper. Since we have confirmation that the kids are in Daigo’s room at some point, and we know that this room has calligraphy on its walls, I concluded they could be in Daigo’s room. So, I went back and took a look at his room to try and figure out where in the room they could be. They are in this corner:

The black lines behind Agumon that kind of look like a gate are actually the brushes Daigo keeps in the corner of the room (the black hanging things near Taichi). The writing behind Gabumon is the two hanging sheets closest to the paint brushes.

As for why the Digimon look so scared, I know a lot of people think they’ve been told some sort of shocking news, but in my opinion the Digimon don’t look shocked but rather very nervous (except Agumon). I think it’s likely they are nervous because they’ve heard a noise outside and are worried they are going to be found by someone who means them harm (since they likely have an angry mob after them at this point).

I think Meiko out on the terrace comes afterwards. I think she is at school during the scene where she hugs Agumon. I also think the scene where we see her say “I... love Mei-chan, don’t I?” happens in the same scene where Agumon says “I’m sure Mei-chan loves you too, Meiko!” This whole scene is probably Meiko sorting through her feelings on Meicoomon with the help of Agumon:

I also think the shot where we see Taichi say “I wonder if there's really such a big difference between what children see, and what adults see...” happens out on the school grounds the same night. Though I’m not sure who he’s talking to or about what. I’ll put forth some potential theories anyway though:

1.     He’s discussing the changes in Meiko’s views on Meicoomon from when she was a child to now (prompted by something he learned from Meiko’s backstory)

2.     He’s discussing the way they reacted to the Digimon as children to the way the adults in Tri are reacting to the Digimon

3.     He’s discussing the changes between his views when he was a child to his views now

4.     He’s talking about how Meiko treated and responded to Meicoomon in contrast to the way her father responded (prompted by something he learned from Meiko’s backstory)

Stuff gets really less structure after this, cause I honestly don’t feel all that confident in the order of any of these shots.

I do not know what they are running towards but I think these shots come the following morning:

At some point everyone ends up in the desert area... I’m going to take a guess that it’s because of a portal.

Jesmon appears:

He’s going to be facing off against Alphamon. Then Taichi and Yamato have some kind of exchange about what they are going to do. I’ve mentioned before that I think Taichi is considering letting Meicoomon be sacrificed which promps Yamato’s line “As if you could wish for our friends to be sacrificed! Taichi!”. Which then in turn prompts the forming of Omegamon:

Omegamon then goes to protect/ subdue Meicoomon (I do not think he has any intention of harming her as we will later see him cradling her in his arms. Yes you read that right, don’t worry I’m getting to it):

I think the light behind them in the above shot is particularly interesting to me, and we see a green light in the sky in another shot:

This light can’t be an attack from Alphamon because we see him in this shot, and Jesmon doesn’t have any attacks that release a green light (plus we will be seeing it again in a later shot with Jesmon, so it’s definitely not him)... so I’m wondering if it’s a distortion of some kind.

Daigo’s just watching stuff go down:

In the next shots I originally thought Yamato, Taichi and Meiko were being fired upon, but after watching the scene several times I realized that what is actually happening is that the ground is breaking apart violently underneath them. The explosions are a result of the earth breaking apart.

This is why I think we see huge cracks in the ground later on with dust rising from them, because they are recently formed:

Anyway, we get some fighting between Alphamon and Jesmon (there is that green light again, it’s coming from something in the sky and I think the trailer is going out of it’s way not to show us what it is so it’s got to be a big plot point):

Time for my weirdest prediction to date, Taichi is in the crevice we see in the above shot. He is in the hole. Remember how I said earlier that the ground is breaking up underneath him? And remember this shot we got:

Yeah, Taichi’s going to fall into a hole :P and the reason our attention is being brought to that crack in the ground in the scene between Jesmon and Alphamon is cause Taichi is in that crack in the ground (Meiko and Yamato could be down there too). Homage to Episode 9 anyone (Taiyama fans)? ;P

I think this is a possible explanation for Taichi’s goggles being on the ground (though it seems weird that they wouldn’t fall off while being attacked by MetalSeadramon but fall off now... sort of makes me think he either removes them are they are violently torn off):

I do not know where this shot fits in... I just think it takes place in the desert... *shrugs*:

I’m going to put FDM here (because I love the idea of Omegamon going up against Ophanimon FDM):

I’m not sure if anybody else has noticed this, but Omegamon is holding Meicoomon’s ultimate in his arms in the following shots. He is holding her, drops her off on the ground, and then flies back up. My assumption is that she must have been wounded or something (I love the idea that it was done by Ophanimon FDM):

I also love the idea that in the above shots he is flying up to take on Ophanimon FDM after saving Meicoomon from her. 

Dunno but I feel like this comes after the above shots:

Mentioned this in one of my other posts, but I feel like Hikari is going to get infected after FDM has already happened, and I think the creepy shot we got of Gennai has something to do with it:

I dunno, this ridiculously large creature seems like some end movie final boss shit to me:

And finally I’ve said before that I think these shots come at the end after the Digital World has been set back to normal (I believe this due to the change in aesthetics):

Okay, I think that is literally every single shot in the PVs covered... minus this shot:

Because like... what am I supposed to do with that shot... it’s a random aerial shot...

If you got to the end of this then wow! Thank you so much for being this interested in my ramblings :P I really hope you enjoyed and I’d love to discuss it with you :)

I’m going to tag everyone who asked for me to share this little project of mine. Thank you so much for wanting to read my stuff, it makes me really really happy!

@jokessho @sunnytaiyou @crazynerd815 @taiyamalover @thetaikamiya @jessica-lilac-porter 

[vikingwitchling]

What’s Yours Is Mine

"Natalie! Are you up yet?" 

The shrill voice from downstairs made me jump in surprise, and I quickly threw a look into the floor-length mirror in the bedroom. Natalie's soul was reflected there, but only for me to see. She would fade in a few days if everything went according to plan, and her body would be mine and mine alone. 

"Who is that?" I hissed at her, already confused by the sudden transition from spirit to matter. Natalie scowled at me from her prison and made a show of locking her lips and throwing away the key. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? Didn't she realize the battle was already lost? That I had won unless she was willing to kill herself in the process?

"Fine. Have it your way. It won't make the slightest difference." I moved over to the door and opened it, peering out into the hallway inquisitively. "Did anyone say something?" 

Shuffling of feet could be heard from downstairs and a few seconds later an elderly woman appeared on the stairs, not quite at the top, but peering back at me through the bars of the bannister. 

"I was checking to see if you were up, dear," the old woman said, a knowing smile making her thin lips twitch. "Or if you had conveniently forgotten to set your alarm clock again." By her tone of voice, this was something Natalie did quite often.

I shook my head and forced a polite smile, though it may have come off as more of a grimace. "No, I'm up." 

The old woman winked at me, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Atta girl. Now go get dressed, and I'll drive you to work." 

Work? I wished I had been able to do some more research on my current vessel before encountering the people in her life. This could get tricky. 

The old woman noticed my hesitation, and for a moment I feared she knew something was wrong. Luckily it seemed she wrote my disorientation off as sleepiness. "Your car's still in the shop, remember? So you asked me to take you and being the best grandmother in the world, I told you I would," she teased, and I instantly felt I could breathe a little easier. 

Grandmother. Natalie's grandmother. Got it.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'll be right down," I said and stepped back into the bedroom, closing the door and quickly shedding the pyjamas I had woken up in. Natalie was still playing Miss Judgemental from the opposite side of the mirror. 

"You'll never get away with this," she growled as I approached the closet to inspect the clothes at my disposal. "Grams will know you're not me." 

I chose a pair of tight-fitted jeans and a pretty little halterneck top from the selection Natalie's wardrobe had to offer and began the process of pulling them on, relishing every single sensation caused by the fabric caressing my skin. 

"I doubt that," I replied, unconcerned. "Though if she were to find out, it'd still be too late for you. The only way to eject me from your body would be to kill it." 

A self-satisfied smirk painted my lips as I executed the last finishing touches on my outfit, stepping into a pair of high heeled boots before turning to face the mirror. Natalie looked worried. She should be. 

"Oh, don't pout," I said, feigning sympathy and reaching out to the gently touch the cold surface of the mirror. "And stop worrying. I will take great care of your body." 

Running a brush through the silken hair upon my head, I gazed intently into the mirror, seeing beyond the apparition of Natalie's soul and at my actual reflection. The body I had 'chosen' was small and petite, in good shape, though perhaps with smaller tits than I would have liked. Still, she would have to do. 

"Why are you doing this?" Natalie's voice pulled me from my moment of self-admiration and made me focus on her once more. 

"I needed a body. Yours was the first and best I came across," I explained, though Natalie seemed to want for more details. I considered the risk of telling her about myself and came to the conclusion there was hardly any. She would die soon anyway. My secrets would be taken to her grave. 

"I was made by an alchemist named Kieran a few centuries ago. Using his own blood and magic, Kieran can create life. Or an essence of life, rather. That's what I am. He kept me locked up in a magical vessel, a special bottle made to contain me and keep me from escaping. He would put me into bodies every now and then when he wanted the company of the perfect woman. But I never got to keep them. I'm more powerful than he likes when inhabiting humans. Because I was made from Kieran's blood, I also have his abilities. Magical powers of sorts. Anyway, centuries in captivity became dreadfully tedious, so when my bottle broke by mistake, I fled. And voila!" I brought my hands to my hips, posing in a saucy manner as I watched Natalie's reaction to my tale. "Here I am."

She didn't seem as outraged by my story as I would have expected of a mere mortal. I would have thought she'd call me a liar, or crazy, like humans always do when confronted by something they don't understand. But she didn't. Perhaps the fact she was clearly possessed had freed her of her doubts concerning the supernatural world? Or perhaps she had always believed? Perhaps there was more to her than I immediately realised. 

"Natalie! I'm leaving NOW! Get your butt down here." Grams sounded annoyed and deciding it would be unwise to anger the old lady on my first day here, I grabbed what I assumed to be Natalie's usual purse and threw it over my shoulder, bounding down the stairs, almost colliding with a teenage girl still dressed in her nightie. 

"I'll take the bus, Grams. I need to check on a few things in the Book Of Shadows first," she said, waving goodbye to her grandmother who was standing by the front door, ignoring me completely, and disappeared down the hallway. 

"It leaves in thirty minutes, Jane! Don't be late! And put the book back in the altar room once you've finished with it," Grams hollered back before beckoning me down the remainder of the stairs. 

As I followed her outside, I couldn't conceal the growing devilish smile that spread on my face as the realisation hit me. I hadn't just landed myself a human body. Natalie, like her grandmother and the young girl who I assumed to be her little sister, was a witch. ---

"Natalie, seatbelt," Grams commanded me as soon as we'd settled in her tiny old car. I reached over my shoulder and tugged on the strap to buckle up, somewhat distracted by the newly revealed information that the body I had chosen to possess was a witch. It was great news, of course. A witch's power mixed with my own would easily make me more powerful than the alchemist hunting me, and might even be enough to destroy him once and for all. Now I just had to figure out which particular power Natalie had been granted. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long. 

As Grams pulled out of the driveway and onto the street (and backing over the trashcans in the process), I reached into the purse I had brought with me and retrieved Natalie's wallet. To my delight, it contained her drivers' license and credit card, gifting me with the opportunity to learn more about her. I tuned out Grams' mutterings about hospital bills and grocery shopping, uttering soft noises of agreement to maintain the illusion I was listening whilst secretly eyeing the details on Natalie's license. 

Cute picture. Natalie Benson. Born October 26th 1988. That made her twenty-five years old. Why would a woman that age still be living at home with her grandmother? And did she have parents? I supposed these were topics I had to explore further if I wanted to successfully impersonate the witch until I was strong enough to go off on my own. 

"Natalie? Are you listening to me?" Grams shrill voice accompanied by a sharp left turn of the car pulled me from my reverie and nearly made me lose the card clutched in my hand. I yelped in surprise and held onto the seat belt wrapped over my torso upon discovering the old woman drove like an animal. With all the near accidents having occurred merely from the time I had started paying attention, I figured it would be a miracle if we made it to our destination in one piece.

"Slow down, you old bat! I'm getting carsick." It was a sensation I had never experienced before and one I realized I didn't particularly enjoy as nausea writhed inside me like a serpent. 

"Oh, pish posh. You don't get carsick," Grams laughed, apparently unconcerned I might expel my breakfast onto my shoes. "Now, did you hear what I said about Jane?" 

Jane? Who the hell was Jane? Oh, that's right. The little sister. 

"No," I groaned, keeping my answer short, afraid to leave my mouth open for too long. 

"I said that she has a Parent and Teacher meeting tonight, and I'm not really feeling well enough to attend. Can you go in my place?" Grams said, finally slowing the car down and pulling up outside a promenade of shops. Even though we had stopped, I still clutched my seatbelt, half-turning in my seat to look at the old woman. 

"Um...I guess?" I murmured hesitantly, not quite sure what such a meeting entailed. I would figure that out later. 

"Great," Grams beamed and leaned over suddenly, puckering her wrinkled mouth and placed an unpleasantly wet kiss on my cheek. "Now have a wonderful day at work, dear. I'll see you later tonight." 

I climbed out of the car and flung my purse over my shoulder, looking from the vehicle I had just exited to the row of shops before with bewilderment. Where did Natalie work? I couldn't ask Grams. It would seem too suspicious. And anyway, before I could turn to look at her again she had revved the engine and taken a sharp u-turn, speeding down the street we had come, in the wrong lane, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was leaving in her wake. 

Digging through my purse, I withdrew a tiny make-up mirror and held it up before my face, Natalie's soul reflecting off the surface. "Where do you work?" I asked her in a whisper, receiving a few awkward glances from the people passing us by. 

Natalie assumed an expression of haughty stubbornness and her lips twitched in a smug smile. "You figure it out." 

Gritting my teeth, I shoved the mirror back into the bag and slowly ventured down the sidewalk, peering curiously into each and every shop I passed. The butcher's shop. Not bloody likely. Baby Paradise – Everything An Infant Would Ever Need. It was a possibility. Natalie definitely seemed like the type to like babies. I considered stepping inside to examine further when a loud knocking-sound had me distracted and made me turn to look across the street where a thirty-something male in a baker's uniform was waving at me. 

After a moment's hesitation, I crossed the street and headed for the shop advertised as Little Miss Cupcake. Pushing the door open and stepping inside, I felt momentarily blinded by the amount of pink furniture and decorations that met me and felt the need to shield my eyes from all the...cuteness. 

"Nat, we have a major problem." 

I peered out from behind my fingers to meet the concerned gaze of the male who had waved me over. He was taller than me, wider too, with long hair tied back and kept tidy by a hairnet and dark eyes that seemed a tad crazy and bulging. On his white-clad chest, he had pinned a nametag that read: Larry.  Once the shock of the pink subsided, I lowered my hands and took a good look around, absorbing the entirety of the cupcake shop. It looked like every five-year-old girl's fantasy tea party.

"What's the problem, Larry?" I murmured absentmindedly only to have Larry usher me behind the counter to face a great, big coffee machine. 

"I can't get it to work. It won't turn on. I don't know what happened, it was working fine last night," Larry explained, his eyes bulging again. I wondered if they would ever pop out of their sockets. 

I looked at the coffee maker, unsure what I was expected to do to fix it.  "The nine o'clock rush is about to come in. The business people. If they don't get their coffee..." Larry continued in a trembling voice. 

"I'll take care of it. I said, without the confidence I would be able to do so, gesturing for Larry to return to the kitchen where I assumed he did most of his work. Once alone I took it upon myself to examine the machine closer, making sure it was plugged in, pressing every button I could come across and smacking it for good measure. But the machine was unresponsive. I felt it was time to put my witchy body to the test. Placing my bag on the counter behind me, I put both hands on the coffee machine and hesitantly attempted to create a spell.

"I call upon the Ancient Power, to help me in this darkest hour. The angry patrons need caffeine, so go to work now, Coffee Machine."

As soon as the words slipped from my tongue, the machine roared into life and started grinding beans and expelling stream after stream of piping hot coffee. I squeaked in surprise and hurried to capture the beverage in the styrofoam cups stacked on the bench beside me, grudgingly realizing the spell worked a little too well.

---

The day progressed painfully slow and by the time Larry reminded me it was time to close up, I was on the verge of having a tantrum. Eight hours had been spent servicing grumpy and unreasonable customers, engaging in several physical fights with the cash register, burning my fingers on the milk steamer and dropping twelve cupcakes to the floor, which I was informed would come out of my pay. How the hell did Natalie do this every day without losing her mind? 

"You still sulking about those cupcakes?" Larry chuckled as he emerged from the kitchen to help me tidy up. I replied with a groan. "Don't sweat it, Nat. I'm sure you can convince Mrs Benson not to lower your wages. You were just having a bad day, is all." 

I looked up while in the midst of counting today's profits, staring at Larry in confusion. "Mrs Benson?"

The baker turned to look at me over his shoulder, briefly pausing mopping the floor. "Yeah. Mrs Benson. The owner. Your grandmother!" he laughed, shaking his head. "I swear, you've been acting like a freak all day, Nat." 

I forced a smile, surprised for the umpteenth time today to find out some new and important detail about Natalie's life. "Right, of course...Grams... " I muttered to myself, slowly getting back to counting the money in the till again.

Once we finally finished up, Larry offered to give me a ride home, and since I knew of no other way to get there, I accepted. The floor of his car was littered with empty junk food containers and bottles, making it a great challenge just to find a clean spot to sit. 

I burst from the unpleasant vehicle as soon as Larry pulled up outside Natalie's house, eager to get out and quickly dismissed Larry with a wave of my hand. 

The sun had descended from its place in the sky and had vanished behind the horizon, a beautiful orange glow the only proof it had visited us today at all. Darkness fell, and though I had never feared the dark before, a twinge of trepidation that Kieran was lurking in the shadows urged me to hurry inside. 

Against my better judgement, I came to an abrupt halt before the front door as I noticed it was already open, the material of the doorframe frayed and broken as though someone had forced their way in. With one hand upon the door, I cautiously made my way inside, careful not to make a sound, my senses on high alert. The hallway seemed to be in a pristine state, just as it had when I had left this morning, and yet I had a horrible feeling something was wrong nonetheless. Or perhaps it was Natalie's feelings shining through?

"Grams?" I called up to the second floor as I reached the stairs, slowly putting my bag down in order to move about easier. 

"Natalie! Look out!" someone shouted to my right, and I whirled around in time to see the sharp end of a dagger quickly approaching me through the air. I yelped and ducked, slipping to the floor as the lethal weapon soared through the spot where I had just been standing, the bannister of the stairs being its new target. I followed it with my gaze before turning to look ahead again, catching sight of Grams held hostage in the arms of an unusually muscular man. 

He was smiling like a shark readying itself to chomp on its prey, and even from a distance, I could see that each and every one of his teeth was encrusted with gold. Other than that he looked human, but I could sense he wasn't. There was something lacking in him, that ability to feel and empathize that all humans possess deep, deep down. He was a demon. 

"Natalie..." Grams croaked, her bony fingers attempting to peel the demon's arms away. "Natalie, use your powers!  Help me!" 

Propped up on one elbow, I stared back at the old woman, dumbfounded. I couldn't help. I didn't know what power Natalie possessed, and I couldn't use my own power as it would expose me and alert Grams that I was not her granddaughter. 

"Throw the dagger!" she shrieked as the demon began to drag her towards me, his eyes set on the dagger he had thrown at me just moments earlier. I turned to reach for it, but it was too far away, and at that moment I wished the dagger would simply soar through the air and stab the demon on my command. Then it did. I blinked in surprise as I turned to face the demon again, and saw that the knife had driven itself into the demon's skull, draining the life out of him until eventually causing his body to explode in a cloud of ash. 

Grams brushed the demon-residue off her clothes as casually as though she had just spilt breadcrumbs and hobbled to my side, her face a mixture of concern and annoyance. "Are you okay, dear? Why didn't you kill him sooner? I mean, what's the point of being telekinetic if you're just gonna lie down and let an old lady do all the work!?" 

She brushed past me, muttering under her breath and left me where I sat, astonished and as always recently, a tad confused. Telekinesis? That was Natalie's power? It was better than I could have ever dreamed of. If I learned to control it, it would easily give me the upper hand in a fight with Kieran. 

Pushing back to my feet, I set my sights on the dagger that lay atop the pile of demon ash, extending my arm and experimentally beckoning for the weapon to come to me. Instantly, it did. It landed safely in my palm and I clutched it tightly, lifting it up to my face to examine it closely. It was quite small and dull-looking, except for a few strange markings on the blade itself. 

Grams returned a moment later with the vacuum cleaner, and as she prepared to clean up the demon mess, I took a few steps towards her. 

"Grams? What kind of demon was that? And what do these markings mean?" I showed her the knife, which she glared at disapprovingly before plugging the vacuum cleaner into a socket. 

"I don't know what kind of demon he was, but that dagger...it's dangerous." I arched a brow, thinking this was quite self-explanatory, and she turned to address me again, her voice grave. "It's used to steal another witch's powers once she dies." ---

The flawless steel of the athame caught the light up above, reflecting it in its shiny surface and creating little flecks of luminosity to dance across my face. The blade held so much power it made my hand tremble as my fingers closed about it, for a brief moment allowing me to hear the cries and feel the despair of the witches who had met their demise by this particular weapon, drawn out their magical powers to be absorbed by the one who wielded the athame. What a marvellous creation. 

I longed to use it, to grant myself more powers and talents than I already possessed, enough to sever my link from the alchemist that gave me life once and for all. But in this day and age, witches are hard to come by. Their numbers have dwindled at a rapid speed due to humanity's prejudice and their own carelessness. 

Still, who was to say this blade wouldn't come to be useful to me in the future. Definitely worth holding onto. 

"You need to destroy that!" Natalie's soul hissed from its mirror-prison, her abrupt appearance taking me by surprise. 

Narrowing my eyes in her direction, my lip curled up in a distasteful grimace, as though the residue of the girl's spirit was something disgusting that had stuck to the sole of my shoe. "Aren't you dead yet?" I sighed, lazily pointing the blade in her direction. "You're being very rude. Outstaying your welcome." 

Natalie scowled, a perfect reflection of my own expression. "The knife. You have to destroy it. Don't you know the power it holds? How much damage it can do?" 

I pursed my lips and pretended to consider her words, swinging my legs off the bed to stand. "I do, as a matter of fact. Grams told me." Twirling the blade between skilful fingers, I approached the floor-length mirror slowly, carefully examining the spirit shown before me to assess her health. She was looking weaker than she had just a few hours ago. Good. I couldn't wait to have this body all to myself. 

"She's not your grandmother!" Natalie's reflection screamed, tears of fury welling up in her eyes. "Stay away from her! Stay away from my sister! And get the hell out of my body!" 

Natalie's anger took me by surprise. I hadn't expected her to be able to show such a powerful display of emotion at this point. It was disappointing. I needed her to lose hope so that she would finally fade away. 

Allowing a moment of heavy silence to linger between us, I eventually assumed a carefree expression and lifted my shoulders in a slight shrug. "As you wish." 

Hurriedly raising the athame into the air and angling the sharp blade down towards myself, I drove it downward with the intention of letting it pierce my heart, the very tip of it connecting with my flesh just as Natalie shrieked in horror: "NO!" 

I halted abruptly, and shot a sinful smile towards the mirror, slowly lowering my knife-wielding hand to my side before turning to put it away in Natalie's underwear drawer. "That's what I thought. Now, be a good girl and die already, won't you?"

Natalie's ability to breathe seemed restricted all of a sudden, but I wasn't sure if it was caused by her own fear or if it was indeed her soul dying. "Please, just...talk to Grams about this. She'll find a way to get you out of my body without either of us being harmed. And then we can help you vanquish this alchemist you're so scared of," she whispered, inducing a roll of my eyes as I began to strip out of the clothes I had worn all today.

"And give up that kickass power you possess? I think not. It matches my own quite nicely." I murmured, rummaging through the wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear, eventually withdrawing two cocktail dresses still on their hangers, holding them up in front of the mirror. "Now, which one should I wear at your sister's Parent-Teacher gathering?" ---

The clock struck ten just as I returned from the parent-teacher conference, where I had done a brilliant job not falling asleep despite the fact the people at this school was boring as balls. I couldn't care less about what kind of food they served in the cafeteria, or the fundraisers arranged to collect money for class trips. The coffee was pretty good, however. Had to give them credit for that.

My first day in human form had left me exhausted and I was looking forward to locking myself in Natalie's room for privacy, free of pretence and the annoying presence of Grams and Natalie's brat little sister. I had not heard from Natalie herself in several hours and delighted in this fact. I still saw her in every shiny surface able to capture my reflection, but she had been quiet, forever growing weaker. 

It was no different when I reached the bedroom and undressed in front of the mirror, relishing in my vessel's admirable attributes; smooth and taut skin with a healthy sunkissed glow; firm and full breasts that bounced whenever I moved; a narrow and dainty waist accompanied by a flat stomach; a pert backside and long slender legs. I had never felt more beautiful. I guess that's not strange as I've spent the last few centuries as a ball of energy trapped in a bottle, but you know what I mean. 

Running a comb through my long mahogany-coloured hair, I soon climbed into Natalie's bed and slipped under the covers, the sensation of my naked skin resting amongst fresh linens so comfortable I fell asleep at once. 

It didn't take long before a dream took form within my mind, placing me in front of an open elevator in a building I did not recognize. I didn't know why, but it felt important I stepped into the elevator, and so I did. The doors slid closed behind me and I pressed the button labelled "3" on the panel before me, leaning back against the mirrored wall as the metal box jerked into motion. 

Kieran appeared out of nowhere, tall and handsome and composed, as always. He came up behind me, his arms embracing my new form and pulling my back to his chest, his nose dipping to the side of my head where he inhaled my scent. 

"Is this my Luna?" he whispered, our eyes meeting in the mirror. "Have I found my naughty sprite?" 

I felt afraid, and my body showed it clearly. It was cold, and my skin was instantly attacked by tremors and shivers, and what appeared to be something heavy and painful had taken occupancy of the pit of my stomach. 

It's just a dream, I thought. Just a dream. Nothing can harm me here. Not even Kieran. Wish him away. Will myself to wake up. 

I closed my eyes and wished with all my might, but nothing happened. "Wake up..." I murmured under a shallow breath. "Wake up now. It's just a dream."

Kieran laughed, his body shaking against mine. "Ah yes, but whose dream is, Luna? Yours or mine?" 

I opened my eyes to look at him, fear making it impossible to move. "Please don't take her from me, Kieran. Please. Let me have her," I pleaded feebly, the thought he would expel me from my current vessel and trap me back in a bottle too horrible to consider. 

His arms loosened around me and he stepped away to take a proper look, his gaze trailing up my legs and hips, over my stomach and breast until it finally landed on my face again. "She's pretty. Just my taste," he grinned. "But then again, we share that taste do we not, Blood Of My Blood?" 

In a flash of movement, he had closed the space between us again, his brawny hands cupping my face and tilting it upwards to meet his eyes. "You know I don't care for you in human form, Luna. It makes you too...unpredictable. Too strong and eager to defy me." The pad of Kieran's thumb caressed my lower lip, making me shiver further. 

"My life has been no life," I breathed, eager to make him understand. "Trapped in a bottle on your shelf for years and years, Kieran...only to be taken out and made flesh when you desire a companion in bed. It's no life. I want to live as they do, the humans and animals and demons and vampires. I want to feel what they feel; excitement and fear and happiness, sorrow and even pain." 

The smile spreading on Kieran's face was not one that soothed me. Just the opposite. He looked cruel now. Eager to punish. "You serve your purpose, Luna. It is what you were made for and I see now several flaws in you I will have to erase once I have you back." 

"Flaws?" I laughed, trepidation temporarily replaced by incredulity at his statement. "You made me from yourself. All that I am, so are you. If I am flawed, it is because you are flawed." 

Kieran's hands tightened on my face like a vice, making me cringe. Could one feel pain in dreams? I thought it would only be shallow discomfort. "I am allowed flaws. You are not," he said simply and twirled me around to embrace me from behind again, his lips at my ear. "Return to me of your own free will and I might show leniency. If you don't, I will cut you out of the body you now possess and take you by force. I will make you such a feeble spirit you will never be able to possess anything ever again. The choice is yours, Luna." 

My eyes narrowed and I shook my head as much as his fingers would allow, puckered lips uttering a single word of defiance. "Never." 

Kieran's expression mirrored my own just then and to my surprise the walls fell away around us, leaving us on a single platform high above the ground, the wind making it a tremendous challenge to stay upright. I inhaled sharply, fear spiking at the height on which we were stood and I clung to my maker like never before, knowing exactly what was to come. My struggles were nothing against Kieran's strength and one firm push was enough to rip me from his embrace and over the edge, my body falling quickly through the cold air and nearer and nearer the merciless ground below. 

I hit the pavement with a scream and startled awake at the very same moment, suddenly back in Natalie's bed, forehead and chest covered in sweat, my heart beating like a rapid drum solo, and a single trickle of blood running from my left nostril and down to parted lips.  

[lotornomiko]

OSVP Chapter Six The Overhauled Edition

        There was no peace in her heart, no peace and no quiet for her soul, Lenneth falling into Odin’s enchanted slumber, and being plagued by the uncertain. By the doubts and the fear, Lenneth’s mind overtaken with the thoughts that focused near unwavering on that of her younger sister, Silmeria.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There wasn’t supposed to be anything felt while under the Valkyrie’s forced slumber. By all rights, Lenneth should have been at ease, neither dreams, nightmares, nor memories, able to disturb her. Her mind should have been blessedly empty, Odin’s enchantment working it’s magic to strip Lenneth of her defiance, her strength, and her free will. In many a way she should have been reborn anew, a total clean slate for the love that would be forced upon Lenneth at her awakening.

None of that had happened, not even the small mercy that should have freed the Valkyrie maiden from her thoughts. The recollection that she still had, Lenneth not so much dreaming as reliving the events that had led up to this punishment a thousand times over. She would see the faces of the slaughtered, that of the Valkyries and the chosen few einherjar who had been entrusted to her command. She’d remember Gwendolyn and Jacqueline’s screams, and the sound of flesh tearing, the greedy hungry gulps of many a throat working, and the smacking of lips against too wet skin.

Most of all, it was the thought of Silmeria, thoughts of the woman’s fate that had been a result of Lenneth’s spectacular failure. Lenneth was haunted by the idea of that, by the knowledge of just what her mistakes had led Silmeria into becoming. She was tormented, Lenneth knowing that she should have been faster and stronger, SMARTER somehow. Her sister had paid the price for Lenneth’s short comings in that moment, Silmeria taken.

Sometimes the Valkyrie saw Silmeria as she had once been. The strong and the confidant Goddess, the able bodied and capable warrior. Dressed in full Valkyrie regalia, Silmeria was often seated at the head of an army. Such a striking image of what had once been, Lenneth still couldn’t keep the memories from then turning dark, from showing her sister out on the battle field. This vision of Silmeria was not as Lenneth had known her, the Valkyrie’s indigo armor gone. Dressed in dark shrouds of crimson, Silmeria’s deathly pale skin had only stood out starkerr against the blood colored rags. And then it would hit her, Lenneth realizing that the shredded gown had once been colored a snow white, the blood of Silmeria’s many victims having soaked into and changed the very nature of the fabric.

Lenneth’s mind had tried to deny this sight, tried to make up some feeble excuse as to what she was seeing. No blade and no bow besides her, Silmeria herself had become a grim parody of the undead, her teeth and those ungodly claws the weapon of choice that had attacked and killed so many. Her very lips stained a vivid red from the innocents she had slaughtered and fed upon, Silmeria’s eyes had flashed a crimson accusation at her sister.

Holy sword then appearing in her hand, Lenneth had STILL hesitated to strike down her sister. She had looked at the soulless monster that Silmeria had become, the undead nightmare that would be the death of countless others, and she could not do it. Lenneth couldn’t bring herself to put an end to the creature who had once been her sister. That completed Lenneth’s failure, Silmeria and the nine realms’ many inhabitants doomed to die at the former Valkyrie’s hands.

It was her fears manifested to extremes, Lenneth frightened by both the reality and the what ifs that continued to plague her. Maybe it would always torment her. Maybe Lenneth would always be haunted not just by her failures, but by the fact she hadn’t been able to personally put Silmeria to the sword. She hadn’t even been given the chance, Odin stripping the right to that duty from her. Just as he had stripped everything else from Lenneth, the one time Valkyrie now made human and cursed to know the love of the man who would one day awaken her.

Something very much like tears had then pricked at her eyes, Lenneth feeling overwhelmed by the situation. By the helplessness of her fate, and by the sight of Silmeria at her absolute worst. Lenneth’s soul actually cried out in pain, the Valkyrie maiden herself taking a step towards her sister. “I am sorry!” Lenneth would say, openly weeping. Was she desperate for an absolution? For a forgiveness that Lenneth would never dare give to herself? “I couldn’t save you.” Lenneth would finally acknowledge, the sword falling free of fingers that had now gone limp.

A wail of agony like Lenenth had never thought to ever hear had then escaped her, the woman falling to her knees. Her eternal torment, that agony, had increased by droves, Lenneth now knowing the ultimate in despair at Silmeria’s agreeing nod. Such was the effect on her mind, that Lenneth would often forget this was nothing more than a dream. A nightmare that was grounded in the basis of truth. Gripped by this hellish reality, Lenneth was caught in an endless loop, of agony and of regret, of her failure and of her heartache.

Her mind tortured her with the countless what ifs, Lenneth was frozen and helpless, unable to do much of anything save scream. She’d watch as Silmeria attacked innocents, as the humans fell victim to her claws and to her teeth. Other times the nightmare would take them back to the Plains of Idavoll, where Brahms was out and about, fighting alongside his new bride. Together the pair would attack Silmeria’s one time people, ripping apart Valkyrie and einherjar alike. Silmeria would feed on the very Asgardians who had once been her allies, Such things would be repeated, Lenneth bearing witness to an unending slaughter that spread throughout the nine realms. Until finally with an unholy fury burning in those crimson eyes, Silmeria had then turned on her own sister.

Lenneth had screamed out in pain then, the agitated state of her mind, the agony of Silmeria’s imagined future, driving the Valkyrie to cry out for real.  Lenneth was trapped in a realm of unending nightmares and torment, completely unable to fight free. Not on her own. Not without the kiss of her soon to be husband. That man should have spurred even more nightmares to life, Lenneth not wanting to lose herself to him. To the kiss that would strip away her very identity, to the love that would remake her into ANY man’s ideal wife.

No idea of the who or of what kind of man Odin would deem suitable for his failure of a Valkyrie, Lenneth had a very real reason to be afraid for herself. That man could be cruel, and he could be abusive, ready to hurt her in so many ways. He could demean and debase her, Odin’s love enchantment such that Lenneth would gladly submit and surrender to just about anything. Her mind wouldn’t even know enough to protest, to recognize the right and the wrong of it.

Despite all this, Lenneth could only stay caught in the grip of fear for her sister. For Silmeria’s soul. Those few conscious times when Lenneth realized that she was dreaming, would have the Valkyrie maiden praying for her sister Hrist’s success. For the dark haired Valkyrie to not only kill Silmeria, but to do it quickly enough to save the young woman’s very soul.

Time against them all, Lenneth’s sleep was not anywhere peaceful to those that watched over her. Locked in that nightmare, screaming inside of her own mind, sometimes Lenneth would cry out for real. Other times silent tears would fall from beneath her closed eyes, her cheek’s skin slick and flushed with the Valkyire’s unnerving upset.

The enchanted sleep was meant to be peaceful. It was anything but for Lenneth, the woman exhausted by her dreams. With the agony of a countless millennia lived out in her nightmares, Lenneth had not a single bit of idea as to what was actually going on around her. She was simply unaware of what if anything was happening in the world that existed outside of her tortured mind. Asleep for it, Lenneth had no way of knowing that time itself was passing, many days upon days marking her body’s travel. That untold amount was spread out over vast distances, the journey to Lenenth’s new home a long one.

Just as she had no awareness of time and distance, the physical sensations of the journey were lost to her as well. Lenneth had felt not a thing, nothing from the many bumps of an unpaved road jarring against the carriage’s wheels, or to the hands that touched upon her in concern. She felt not the washcloth that touched upon her skin, or how her armor had been stolen away. She felt not even the difference in fabrics, the clothing upon her, the cushions beneath her. Frozen in that enchanted slumber, Lenneth did not even feel the physical needs of her body, the magic such that the woman was in a state of total hibernation.

There had been no way to fight this, no way to keep this unnatural slumber from taking her over. Lenneth had been damned to it the moment that Odin’s potion had touched on her tongue, the sleep overtaking her just as a scream had sounded. The voice had been that of her sister, Hrist, the woman angry, maybe even frightened. Lenneth would never know just who that shout had truly been for, the Valkyrie falling, already asleep long before her body hit upon the floor.

Once in the eternity that was her suffering, Lenneth would have a real moment. A thought where she didn’t think about her failures, that she didn’t worry for her sister, Silmeria. Those brief bits of time never lasted long enough, Lenneth left to wonder if she would ever awaken from her enchantment. Paranoia sometimes crept in with such a thought, Lenneth fearing that THIS was the true punishment. The torture of not knowing, of never learning of just how Silmereia’s fate had played out. Maybe this sleep would be upon her for forever, forcing Lenneth to endlessly relive all of her failures and her fears.

Awake or asleep, which would be better? Which would be worst? Was the agony of her mind truly fitting punishment enough? More so than humiliation of being tied in love to some random stranger? To be his property, made devoted and loyal, her affection and her obedience stolen rather than earned? Would she have found ANY man worthy of her heart? Neither fate was palpable, not as a punishment and not as a duty.

Wishing that she had fought both Brahms AND Odin harder, the helpless feeling Valkyrie almost wished she HAD died. Better Odin’s potion be poison than this hell, this sleep AND the reality that it’s magic would make her a slave of. This time when Lenneth cried, it was tears for herself, the liquid born of her frustration over the hopelessness of those fates.

The sadness on her face, a sob caught in her throat, Lenneth did not even register when a strong pair of arms lifted her into their embrace. The enchanted sleep had left her body absolutely pliant, Lenneth easily cradled against a chest. She was asleep for even this, someone carrying the woman into her new home. It wouldn’t be that long after, that her enchantment was then broken, Lenneth finally starting to stir. It wasn’t an immediate awakening, no sharp and no sudden a gasp to herald it. Even the dark horrors of her mind tried to still linger, that unholy vision of Silmeria the last and the strongest to fall to the dawning awareness of her surroundings.

As Silmeria faded away, the sounds and the smells, and even the physical sensations all began to filter in. The sounds were among the first wave of outside stimulation, a quiet kind of murmur that was nothing like what the Valkyrie had been used to hearing. It was different from the noise that had always inhabited around the castle, Valhalla, the battlefield and it’s distant roar, that of the angry and the dying screams and the sounds of metal clanging, having permeated near permanent across the vast expanse that was the Plains of Idavoll. It was war that she was used to, the fighting, the sights of it, the smells, and especially the sounds. Anything else was foreign and unwelcome, Lenneth confused by this odd kind of silence. So quiet was this place that Lenneth could actually hear the sound of a songbird’s chirping.

She processed the information that came with the sound, Lenneth understanding it had to be daylight for this species of bird to be up and about. However strangeness abounded with that bird’s presence, Lenneth wondering why she did not hear any other birds chirping. It couldn’t be the fault of the voices, those soft and occasional murmurs of people that passed by so near to her. Most of their voices were too soft and too muffled, Lenneth unable to make out clearly any of the words. Hushed though they were, there was no disguising the sound of a woman’s giggle.

Lenneth couldn’t help herself, she frowned, so surprised and taken aback by that giggle. Laughter of any kind was such a strange, foreign sound to Lenneth, the unending war that had plagued the heavens leaving little to smile about. To the Gods and the Goddesses, to the einherjar, and especially to the Valkyries. Always so serious and intent on their duties, Lenneth could not remember a time when she and her sisters had had a real reason to laugh. Especially not so happily, with such joy infusing the voice and the heart.

Lenneth might have tried to lose herself to a memory of just exactly when she had heard either one of her sisters’ last laugh, if not for the feel of something—someone TOUCHING her. In an overly familiar manner that was absolutely foreign to the Valkyrie, with hands that were not like any she had ever felt. Softer somehow, and lacking the callouses that came with the handling of a weapon, these hands spoke of the life of privilege that this person had led. It was more than that. This person, whoever HE was, had never known anything of hardship or that of traditional work. Luxury was the life that these hands were used to, everything from their home’s surrounding, to whatever it was that they actually did.

With a frown of disapproval,  Lenneth tried to stir awake enough to open her eyes. They were still too, too heavy, and the rest of her wasn’t faring much better. Her limbs didn’t want to move, a weight upon them that helped to keep her down. The soft mattress at her back, the plump pillow beneath her head, both worked to seduce her back into sleep. It was the hands that kept her grounded, that kept Lenneth from slipping back into the enchanted slumber. It was HIS fingers that shockingly gripped firm hold of the bare part of one of her arms.

She wasn’t that used to being touched, especially by a man. To feel him so near to her, his hand on her exposed skin? It wasn’t just shocking, it was alarming. Her apprehension made her stir, Lenneth struggling the rest of the way awake. Even as her eyelids quivered, even as she fought to draw in a breath, Lenneth became aware of more and more things in regard to the man. Such as the fact that it was HIS warmth on her, a firm, insistent pressure placed against her lips. That firm feel had her gasping, Lenneth unprepared for her first kiss. Or for the sensations that followed, the tongue that not only licked over her lips but past them, the man taking from Lenneth a deeply thorough taste.

  His lips remained a constant on hers, his eager mouth an unyielding, physical manifestation of his desires. She felt every tremor, tasted the very excitement from him. Smelt it, that faint bit of spice, that foreign undercurrent of a man. Clean smelling, but holding a whisper of something, something beyond his choice of soap. In many ways it reminded her of the God’s use of ether, but Lenneth couldn’t place WHY.

Confused by it, by him, Lenneth’s alarm only ratcheted skywards, finding there was a hand creeping in between her and the mattress. Fingers touched at the small of her back, Lenneth reacting. Arching up to get away from them, her body only ended up pressed against his. She might have almost panicked then, Lenneth realizing that the man was somehow on top of her. Such a delicate position was far too intimate to be allowed, Lenneth finding the strength at last to lift up her arms.

    With a push of her hands, with a snapping open of her eyes, Lenneth then jolted completely awake, finding a fitful sound was escaping from her throat. New feelings and sensations assaulted her, the provocative glide of her body against his, the soft whisper of fabric rustling, some light gauzy material brushing a reaction into the very tips of her breasts. There was expensive silk against the palm of her hand, a kingdom’s wealth upon his shoulders. That only helped confirm Lenneth’s earlier assessment that this man was a being well acquainted with luxury.

As she pushed at his shoulders, Lenneth tried to reel back against the bed. He wasn’t fully on top of her, the man more twisted and bent over from a sitting position besides her. It left her with only his torso to contend with, his torso and those ever so ardent lips, the soft smack of them against hers a downright suffocating pressure. Lenneth felt light headed from the kisses, her entire world spinning around dizzily. If she hadn’t already been laying down, her knees would have buckled for sure, Lenneth desperately inhaling. With it came his longing sigh, the fingers on her back trying to stroke reassurance against her skin. Rigid in response, Lenneth voiced her displeasure, a deep grumbling sound that might have almost pass for a snarl. It was that sound that the man reacted to, the kiss slowly breaking, as he let her shove at him one last time. Lenneth found herself not only breathing heavily, but blinking rapidly in response. In that precise moment, red faced with anger, and thinking her hands the only thing that might keep him back, Lenneth looked up into his eyes. That deep amethyst color, so dark with his arousal, seemed to pierce Lenneth from deep within. Her lips parted on an unvoiced gasp, the enchantment trying to take hold of her heart. An entire rush of overwhelming feelings went through her then, their leash tightening around her as Odin’s spell tried to force Lenneth to love this man.

She attempted to fight it, Lenneth refusing to melt for him, for ANY man, so completely. The beat beat beat of her heart thundered in her ears, an unfamiliar, unwanted, unneeded ache birthing inside her. Warmth filled her cheeks, and her eyelids fluttered, Lenneth’s hands no longer trying to push the man away. She was simply there, touching him, but the man didn’t press the advantage. Those soft feelings now inside her, Lenneth had to fight to harden herself against them. Against him, the woman withdrawing her hands from his shoulders, so that Lenneth could instead dig her own nails into her palm.

 A sharp pain spiked within her at that, Lenneth having pressed hard enough to break flesh. She didn’t care, the pain such that it helped to clear her mind of the troubling feelings that were being forced upon her.  To hold back the worst of her love, Lenneth feeling it’s ache in her breast, the enchantment still keeping a tight hold on her. She pushed it back, but not enough, Lenneth aware of the man, of the uncharacteristic attention that she was paying to the most striking of his features.

  His eyes, that bright blaze of color, that vivid jewel like shade, the amethyst, were a stark expression of sexual intensity. She shivered under that focus, Lenneth caught by the beauty of his gaze, and the heated emotion within it. Nothing could detract from that beauty, from that or the look that he was giving her. A passionate reverence, a look of such immense longing, that Lenneth could almost think that this man was the one affected by the enchantment.

She had no experience with kisses, and even less so with passion. Lenneth simply wasn’t used to being looked at as a sexual being, as a person to be desired. It made her face grow hotter yet, Lenneth trying to look away, to look down. His hand on her cheek stopped her, Lenneth’s eyes darting upwards. This time when she looked into his eyes, Lenneth noticed that her face was reflected in that jewel like gaze. It might as well have been that of a stranger, the blush on her cheeks, and the startled look of her eyes not anything that belonged on the face of a proud warrior maiden.

The enchantment at fault for the change in her demeanor, Lenneth found a dozen compulsions birthing to life inside her. Her fingers itched with the desire to touch him, to caress over his pale skin. Her lips tingled with the memory of his kiss, the compulsion urging her to press her mouth to his for yet another. She positively yearned to feel his body’s weight on her, to feel the press of his flesh against hers. Lenneth even wanted to stroke fingers through his hair, to add further to the rakish mess it was already styled in.

Other desires were upon her, unspeakable passions bringing to life the parts of her that were the most female in nature. THAT unsettled her the most, Lenneth fighting against that needy ache, her thighs pressing firmly together to stem the flow of a tide within her. Again her nails dug into her flesh, Lenneth fighting against the compulsions, against every last one of them. She almost looked away from him then, but the part of her that still remembered being a Valkyrie first and foremost was suspicious.

It was the Valkyrie in her that insisted that this man was her enemy. That this man was her punishment. But more than that, Lenneth instincts screamed at her to remain wary, to not leave an opening for him to get into her heart, or into her bed. That steel determination flashed in her eyes, Lenneth staring at her opponent with an icy cold glare. She still felt the enchantment, still felt it’s pull like a whisper in her ear, urging Lenneth to pull this man down on top of her. She actually trembled with her need, with the desire to kiss him, with a violent want to do more than just kiss. Lenneth barely managed to stop herself from opening her arms in invite, the Valkyrie not wanting to fall in love with this man.

As she fought the compulsion, she tried to focus on other things. Tried to notice something beyond the opponent in front of her. He was all that she could see, all that consumed her, Lenneth instead noticing other details about him. Like the fact his hair was colored so dark a brown as to resemble the sweet chocolate that Lenneth had sometimes favored on occasion. Or how his gold pane glasses complimented similar flecks of that color in the center of his eyes.

    Those eyes did a slow blinking, the man betraying his shock at the venomous look that Lenneth was trying to keep giving him. It was clear that he hadn’t expected any sort of defiance, and in truth, Lenneth wasn’t sure how she was managing what little she had left. She could feel it wavering in her heart, the ache there going from soft to hard and then back again. It affected her, played havoc with Lenneth’s mind, body and her emotions, the woman again trying to push the man away from her.

A tilt of his head in response, the man still bent over her with that intent look on his face. He wasn’t trying to kiss her, wasn’t trying to do anything more than study her face in turn. The look in his eyes had brightened to a curious kind of wonder, his lips crooking in a sort of half smile. She tried to maintain her glare, but that half smile was her undoing, Lenneth unable to keep from noticing how soft and sensually shaped his mouth now appeared to be.

The feel of his kiss branded onto her, Lenenth’s mouth trembled with it’s own need, the woman licking nervously at her swollen lips. The man took that as an invite, pressing into her staying hand. Lenneth first gasped in protest, and then instinct took over, the Valkyrie shoving hard. With that near violent push, Lenneth managed to topple him off and away from her. She slid on the bed in the process, hearing fabrics rustle and feeling the glide of them against her skin. Lenneth then practically threw herself off of the bed, pleased that her legs were stable enough to support her steps away from the man.

    Legs strong and sure, it was the skirt that nearly brought her down. The very heavy skirt that fell down nearly past her ankles, Lenneth actually tripping over it’s length. This was no Valkyries' uniform, no lightweight skirt made for battle. This was some velvet and silk contraption, all frills and lace that molded tightly to her waist. She felt confined in it, noting the skirts even trailed out behind her, ever ready to snag on any and all inconvenient outcroppings.

    As annoyed as she was with the dress, Lenneth was still intent on the man. The room itself remained a mystery, Lenneth managing to get only the briefest of impressions. That of open windows and a closed door, that of a cage that held the songbird that she must have had heard singing earlier. The little creature continued with an excited chirping of it’s voice, flapping it’s small wings in the cramp confines of it’s cage. But nothing that the bird tried, could set it free, the sweet tiny creature remaining as trapped as Lenneth herself now felt.

  That comparison made was almost bitter, Lenneth fighting Odin’s enchantment, and the effect that this man was having on her as a result. He had stood up off the bed seconds after her push. Lenneth was tensed for a fight, not sure what else to expect from him. Would he hurt her, would he try to force her any more than he had already done?

              Right now he seemed content to do nothing, instead turning to just study her. There was no mistaking the surprised look in his eyes, the man cocking his head to the side in response to the defensive posture of his bride to be. A long silence followed that look, the only sound in the room that of the bird’s excited flapping and it’s high pitched squeaks. It reacted as though it knew of the tension in the room, as though it was mirroring the unease that was in Lenneth’s heart.

Such was the upset beating of her conflicted heart that Lenneth at first didn’t understand the words of the man’s voice speaking to her. But there was no missing that sound, that rich throaty purr of a voice that made Lenneth’s insides quiver and cramp with need. This voice wasn’t just commanding, it was sexy, holding a distinct accent to it. She couldn’t place it, couldn’t get her mind to work past the compulsion enough to think of just where he might have come from. But Lenneth wanted to hear it again, wanted to listen to the man speak in that velvety voice all day and night long.

It didn’t matter what he had to say,  just so long as he kept on talking, the love compulsion would be satisfied. That soothing, charismatic tone didn’t lose one ounce of it’s charm, not even when the man’s comment made Lenneth’s blood run cold.

“Lord Odin boasted that there was no coming back from his enchantments. No fighting it’s hold." Was that disappointment that he was voicing, or was the man merely marveling at her strengths? Lenneth wasn’t entirely sure, the only certain thing that she did know was that even with that possible disappointment, he still sounded sinful, that voice trying to lull her into a false sense of security. But no voice could sound THAT nice, the compulsion surely at work here. It’s enchantment wasn’t just trying to make her fall in love with this man, it was trying to drive her to distraction, making everything about him seem wonderful and worth admiring.

     “Lenneth?” Her name was the sweetest of sighs on his lips, the man looking concerned. He’d repeat her name, that questioning look alight in his eyes, but he also made no real move towards her. Instead he waited patiently for her answer.

    The chains of love trying to tighten around her, Lenneth feared that too big a distraction would settle the love spell all the more firmly on her. She shook her head to fight it’s effect, to shake free of her more affectionate thoughts. Instead of being flattered that he already knew her name, Lenneth chose to be angry, letting the displeasure of it sound off in her voice.

        “You know my name.’ She said. “But I know NOT of you.”

Another steady blink of his eyes, that amethyst gaze never wavering from her. Not even when the man began a slow, respectful bow, the man begging for her forgiveness. “Ah forgive me.” He said, and Lenneth fought her blush, the compulsion leaving her far too pleased by this simple show of his regard. "My name is Lezard Valeth. I am Lord of this castle."

       His name a whispering echo in her mind, Lenneth swore the enchantment only grew stronger. She could barely think to ask questions, let alone speak most of them out loud. Who was he, and why had Odin deemed him a suitable punishment? But those words wouldn’t form, Lenneth instead stating, “It was you that broke my sleep.”

       The man, this Lezard, nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. Lenneth found herself frowning, the words all wooden on her tongue. “That means you are to be my husband.” The statement came out flatly, and if Lezard took offense to her tone he did not show it, instead smiling brightly at her.

    "That I am." Came his agreement. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady." He was already stepping towards her, hand reaching to take hold of hers. She didn't let Lezard complete the action, Lenneth sidestepping him with a purposeful avoidance.

      “I cannot lay claim to feeling that same pleasure.” The words cold and haughty, the truth didn’t entirely run through them. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the spell trying to seduce Lenenth into liking everything about Lezard, and that included the situation that she now found herself in. It still couldn’t quell the resentment that lived on inside her, but that anger was tempered somewhat by Lezard himself. Gratitude birthed inside her, Lenneth relieved to note that this man wasn’t trying to pursue or persist in touching her.

  With his eyes meeting hers, the man used the same hand that had reached out towards Lenneth, to instead run fingers against his own scalp. It upset the balance of his bangs, brown hair falling messily in place over an eye. Again it was her fingers that itched, Lenneth fighting the impulse to approach him and set to rights his hair. Her fingers instead curled against her palm, Lenneth taking comfort in the pain that sparked at her nails’s pressing touch.

  “I must admit, this situation is not exactly like I had imagined.” Her voice strangled inside her, a rude kind of scoffing sound escaping Lenneth at Lezard’s words.

“I’ll just bet it isn’t.” The enchantment couldn’t keep the words from sounding sharp, Lenneth almost birthing to life bitterness as she thought and remembered just how she had been awakened. The touch that had been upon her, the liberties that this Lezard had taken. The heat of that memory, brought color to vivid life on her skin, Lenneth upset and unable to hide it. It was the enchantment at work again, the spell such that if it couldn’t make her love him, it would instead settle for exposing Lenneth’s every secret to him.

If Lezard was offended by her tone, by the upset in her eyes, he did not show it. His fingers stopped their almost skittish play against his scalp, the man letting out a sigh. “I was well aware that this type of situation is not one most Valkyries can enjoy.”

  “Then you understand, right?” The enchantment tried to stop her, tried to lessen the impact of the words that Lenneth then delivered. “I do not love you.” She said. “Nor do I WANT to.”

There was a quick blinking of his eyes, but other than that betrayal of expression, Lezard showed no other reaction. Again she wondered if he was disappointed, the enchantment looping chains about her heart, almost making Lenneth want to reach out to him. The urge to comfort versus the necessity of being cruel waged battle inside her, Lenneth making fists at her side, as she leveled him with another stare.

“I also have NO desire to be HERE.” It wasn’t outright cruel, but neither was Lenneth in any way prepared to feign at enthusiasm over the situation her failure had put her in. Her voice didn’t waver, Lenneth pleased at the strong, determined sound of it that was mismatched against the conflict going on inside her.

“It took a King’s decree to bring you here.” His looked had turned serious, the man still staring at her. “”I am under no delusions when it comes to your wants and desires. Of that you can be assured of.”

She wasn’t happy with that, Lenneth not liking nor needing the reminder of the fate Odin had decided for her. The punishment, Lenneth’s failure such that she had not been given a single courtesy or choice. It wasn’t just that she had been given away, that the woman had been stripped of her godhood, that Lenneth had been denied the chance to try and set right her sister, Silmeria’s fate. It was ALL of it, and it was him, Lenneth wondering just how much Lezard knew of the situation. Did he know of why she had been chosen, or why she had been brought here? Did Lezard have any idea of why HE had been chosen in turn, why Odin had deemed him a fitting punishment for Lenneth’s failure? Such questions only brought with them a sharp pang to her heart, Odin’s love enchantment working to poison her line of thought, to force on her a love that would strip away any and all other concerns. Nothing would remain of Lenneth then, nothing but a slavish devotion to this Lezard.

  The pain of her nails tearing at her skin had Lenneth making a sound before she could stop herself. The Valkyrie’s lips then thinned into a flat line, the woman hardly happy with this betraying sign of the inner struggle that waged on inside her. Without even realizing it, she then breathed better, Lenneth free of some of the worst of her suffocating emotions, when the man, when Lezard, glanced away from her face.

“You’re hurting yourself.” His eyes were trained on one of her hands, Lenenth realizing that she had done enough damage for thin trickles of blood to have seeped out past her clenched fingers. Lenneth opened her mouth, prepared to tell this Lezard that she was fine, when he LOOKED at her once more. That amethyst gaze stole all protests from her, Lenneth almost numb inside, as the man approach her, the lacy white cravat at his throat being unraveled, and pressed against her injured palm.

It was such a soft gentle touch, a reverence that left Lenenth shaken, the woman actually trembling in place at Lezard’s hands. She was held frozen by the look in his eyes, by the feel of that exquisite cloth of the cravat being wound about her hand. Lenneth wouldn’t be entirely free of the spell, until Lezard glanced down to knot the cravat into it’s place, and then all of her upset flooded forward, her anger over the helplessness of her situation wanting an outlet of it’s own.

“I KNOW what my King has commanded of me.” She told Lezard, quickly biting out the words before he could look up at her with that beautifully colored gaze. “I will not do him OR you an insult, by refusing to do my sworn duty. But neither will I take any pleasure from it.”

Combatant as she was, there was still a melting of the iciest recesses of her heart, Lenneth taken back by the sight of Lezard’s smile. What began as a slight quirking of his lips bloomed outright into a confidant expression, the man hardly bothered by Lenneth’s bluster and bravado.

“Well you certainly do look upon your duty with resignation.” A curt nod was all that she could manage, the only answer she could give expression to in the moment. “But I think that you will be surprised at just WHAT you can enjoy from a union with me.”

  That seducing tone, that self satisfied curving of that sensual mouth, and the look of dark promise in Lezard’s eyes, all had Lenneth reacting. She FELT the blush on her cheeks, even as her eyebrows raised with her expressed disbelief, Lenenth ill at ease with Lezard’s smug overconfidence. “Oh? Are you THAT sure of yourself?”

“Quite.”

A harsh sound escaped her, a hoarse bit of laughter that wasn’t as full of contempt as Lenneth would have liked. “You are both arrogant and overconfident.”

     “Is it arrogant to to think that I could make you happy?” Lezard wanted to know. “Is it overconfidence or just my deepest desire and hope that you could learn to like it here? Is it selfish to want my bride to be able to thrive in her new life?”

She wanted to scream at him then. Lenneth wanted to rail against Lezard and her fate, against the unfair injustice that had been done to her and her sisters. Most of all, Lenneth wanted to cry out in protest, hating that Lezard had expressed a desire that he hoped would one day find her HAPPY.

    “You know NOTHING of me.” Lenneth finally settled on hissing. “Not of who I am, not of who I was. You know nothing of my life, of my wants, of my needs. It is absolutely preposterous for you to even think to try. You can’t make a woman like me happy, a woman you just met, a woman you do not love and who does not love you!”      

     Her heart fluttered in protest at all that she was saying, and at the sight of his smile fading, the light in his amethyst eyes somehow now dimmed. Lenneth braced herself for a complete and total change in his demeanor, half expecting Lezard to strike her for her impudence.    

“Are you quite finished?” He then asked her, and no real emotion had leaked into his voice with that inquiry. She wondered how that could be, how Lezard could possibly rein so tight a control over his anger and disdain, his cold disappointments.

“For now.” Lenneth answered with a stiff nod.

“Then allow me to offer up a countering view.” He had let go of her hand during the worst of her anger, but he hadn’t once cowered before it. His eyes took took on a determined sheen, Lezard staring at her as he spoke the following. “It’s true that we have just met, that you do not love me. Neither one of us knows much about the other, not our likes, wants and desires. But Lenneth? We can LEARN.” There it was, that off putting smile, that sensual expression that held the promise of wicked intentions. Lezard’s determined look did not waver, the man stepping forward to close any distance Lenneth might have tried to put between them. She couldn’t stand her ground, but neither could Lenneth yield to him, the woman watching with suspicion as Lezard extended out his arm and his hand to her.

  “We can take as much time as you need.” He added. “We needn’t rush this….”

  She didn’t take his hand, but neither did Lenneth find the strength and disdain to slap his arm away. Instead Lenneth looked into his eyes, into the hope that she saw blooming dark in the amethyst color. The astonishment eased away some of her tension, Lenneth searching his expression of any sign of deceit.

“You are not...eager to consummate this union?” She inquired, waiting for the lie. So braced was she for it, that at first Lenneth didn’t comprehend the words that were actually spoken.

“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t.”

She nearly gaped astonishment at him,  his blunt honesty such that she was torn in her feelings over the truth that Lezard had just admitted to. It was Odin’s enchantment at work again, the magic wanting Lenneth to be flattered regardless of the fact that Lezard’s admitted desire upset her greatly.

With that push and pull of emotions, with the right and wrong of it inside her, Lezard begrudgingly scored a point with Lenneth’s bespelled heart. It then skipped a beat at the deepening of the man’s smile, Lezard’s eyes taking on a lighthearted sheen that was so at odds with the darker look Lenneth had already acquainted with him.

“I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.” He had then added. She couldn’t believe it, Lenneth’s lips parting on a stunned sound.

“This whole situation makes me uncomfortable.” She blurted out with that sound. Was it Odin’s love spell, or something else to blame for the words spilling from her? The confidence that she was sharing. “I’m completely out of my element. Not just with these feelings, but with the expectations that might be put on me as a result. I was raised on a battle field, left to toil in war for centuries!"

His hand had never lowered, Lezard still urging her to take hold of it. “It will take some time and adjustment, of course. But given a chance, you can learn to accept this new life. To not only accept it, but to thrive in it!”

     She simply couldn’t believe, couldn’t imagine the future that Lezard himself saw for her. “How?” Lenneth demanded in a plaintive tone. I have no purpose here, no reason to exist…"

“For now, let ME be that reason.” He had finally grown tired of waiting, reaching to clasp hold of her hands with his. “Together we can work to find you your purpose!”

       His was an earnest warmth, the looks in his eyes alight with the belief of his hopes. That voice didn’t just whisper promises to her, it made Lenneth want to believe, the Valkyrie nearly caught up in Lezard’s excitement. On some level the woman realized and understood that she NEEDED to try to make the best of things, that for her own peace of mind, Lenneth had to try. That was nearly the tipping point that overcame all her doubts, that understanding working together with Odin’s spell over her heart. Nearly pushed to accepting, at the last possible second, Lenneth managed to fight free of Lezard’s words, and the magic of the enchantment.

Her eyes staring not at Lezard, but at the clasping together of her hands with his, Lenneth all but snarled venom at him. “My King would have me be nothing more than your slave.” She jerked her hands free of him, defiant and wanting to hurt Lezard the way that Lenneth herself had been so hurt. “That is my punishment.” She said. “YOU are my punishment.” The Valkyrie had raised her head as she had announced this, her blue eyes alight with all of her anger. That challenging gaze met his head on, Lenneth almost satisfied to see Lezard looking so shocked.

He seemed to forget how to breath, to speak, a single, solitary word choked out of him. “Punishment?”!”

Never taking her eyes from his, Lenneth was almost mocking as she nodded, quirking her eyebrow at him. “Did you not even know?” She asked. “Were you so unaware of the circumstances around your acquisition of a Valkyrie for your bride?” Silent, Lezard could only gape at her as he quickly shook his head no. Lenneth frowned in response, actually sighing out loud. “Then it seems we both enter into this union with little real knowledge to us.” She would have turned her back on him then, if Lenneth wasn’t still so wary, so suspicious of Lezard himself. “I am NOT your typical Valkyrie bride.” She added, none of her agitation having lessened with the announcement.

  “Now that I don’t doubt.” He spoke it, but it was such a soft murmur, that Lenneth wasn’t sure that Lezard had meant to be heard. Nor did she allow herself to dwell on just what the man could have meant with such an agreement.

Wanting him to understand her, absolutely needing him to realize and know of the circumstances that had brought Lenneth to him, the Valkyrie found herself confiding to Lezard. “I was not retired from the battlefield due to a physical injury.” Lenneth fought not to close her hand into another fist, the unfairness of her fate, the injustice of it, agitating the Valkyrie further than she already was. “I was still able to fight, still able and willing to stand with Odin's warriors against our enemies." Her temper flared, as did her despair, Lenneth almost hissing in a despondent tone. “Why even now, I should be out on the Plains of Idavoll, leading our einherjar to do battle against the undead...” Once she might have even boasted of the victories her leadership would have guaranteed the soldiers under her command, but Lenneth had not forgotten the slaughter that had happened. The massacre that had befallen valkyrie and einherjar alike, Lenneth remembering the bodies, and that of her sister’s limp form forcibly embraced by the vampire king himself.

Almost caught by that memory, by her failure, Lenneth startled in place at the sound of Lezard’s soft question. “Then why? What happened to lead Odin to have to punish you?” At her sharp look, and at the pain of her failure echoing not just in her thoughts, but showing on her face, Lezard looked almost contrite. “It’s not too bold of me to ask, is it?” He then wanted to know.

     In a way it was exactly that, and yet Lenneth also knew that Lezard deserved to know. Not just of her disgrace, but the reason why it had led to the woman being punished. It didn’t stop the angry look in her eyes, Lenneth downright ruthless as she spoke. “If you are to be my husband, then perhaps you have a right to know.”

Those words, that grudging acceptance, did not make it any easier for Lenneth to speak on her failure. Especially to this man, this stranger, who was to be part of her punishment. The anger and the pain that lanced through her, had Lenneth at last turning her back on Lezard. Let him strike her down for all that she cared, the woman unable to stand being so close to him for any longer.

With her arms crossing over her breasts, with Lenneth hugging herself for a comfort she could not  accept, the woman strode away from Lezard. She would not speak until she was before the cage of the songbird, the woman staring down at the tiny creature who had finally quieted down. As though it too wanted to be privy to her secrets, to her failure.

      "Lenneth?" prodded Lezard when she let the silence stretch out for longer than was merited.

         “Would it surprise you to know that I was not an only child?” That was how Lenneth chose to start, the woman staring down at the songbird inside it’s metal prison. “My parents were blessed with not two, but three daughters. Hrist was the name of my older sister...” It was impossible to speak of her, to speak of them both without Lenneth conjuring their images to mind. She could almost smile, almost until the images distorted, Lenneth remembering Hrist’s scream, and spying Silmeria as she was fed upon by the vampire Brahms.

“And the youngest?” Lezard voice had urged her to fill in the silence once more.

“My sister Silmeria.” Lenneth answered in a grim tone. She had to extend real effort not to dig her nails into the soft flesh of her arms, all of her fondness and her love for her sisters tainted with the pain that she had come to associate with them over what had happened. “We’ve been at war with the undead for centuries..and there are those older than we, who have been at it for a millennia.”

“The undead...”

“Ghoulish creatures.” Lenneth spoke over him. “Nightmarish monsters all united under the vampire’s rule.”

“Ah yes….I believe the Lord of the Undead is a vampire who goes by the name of Brahms.” There wasn’t many that hadn’t heard that name at least once in their lifetime, and still to hear it spoken by him, by anyone, set Lenneth’s hackles raising.

“Brahms...” She all but growled his name, and this time her nails scratched over the flesh of both of her arms. It was no less than what she had done to the palm of her hand, and yet Lenneth was heedless of the pain, the hurt that she was now causing. “He is obsessed with my sister, Silmeria. Has been for a long time now.”

She heard the soft determined footfalls, spied Lezard’s drawing nearness out of the corner of her eye. “My sister Silmeria was the one who was injured on the battlefield. She was the one due to be retired and wed. All she need to do was wait and be safely delivered to her soon to be husband.”

“What went wrong?” Lezard asked. He was already reaching for her, touching fingers to hers, gently but insistently prying them away from the scratching she had still been doing. She tried to fight him, to at least shrug him off, but Lezard would have none of it. He not only persisted, the man chastised, his spoken reminder inadvertent in the hurt that it brought to her mind. “You are mortal now, Goddess.” He had stated. “Even the smallest of scratches can lead to a deadly infection.”

He had another cloth in his hand, a handkerchief that Lezard had drawn from a spare pocket. It was just as fine a material as the cravat, but made even bloodier from the number Lenneth had done to her arms. She might not have let him tend to her, but his warning earned her grudging acceptance. Though she might not be willing, and certainly not at all happy, Lenneth wouldn’t dishonor her duty as a Valkyrie, and let anything stand in the way of the woman surviving her punishment.

Without even a nodded thanks, Lenneth resumed speaking. “I was to be the head of the party that would escort my sister to Alfheim. The undead were never even supposed to come close, our sister Hrist leading those fiendish factions away from Valhalla. With the warring on both sides distracted, Silmeria should have been able to make her escape.”

“We were fools to believe that.” Lenneth announced. “The vampires weren’t on the run, weren’t tricked by my sister’s feint. Brahms and his kind instead lay a trap of their own, those blasphemous beings laying in wait inside the Forest of Spirits.” Lezard was listening with rapt attention, his hand pressing the handkerchief against the worst of her scratches. “Ambushed and overwhelmed, it was a slaughter. A massacre on the side of the divine. Only I survived such a nightmare...”

“Don’t blame yourself for that….”

“Why should I not? My King does! He faults me for the failure, for the lives lost, and for the blasphemous act I had allowed the vampire King to get away with.”

“Blasphemous act?” questioned Lezard, and Lenneth’s eyes flashed, her anger and pain, her abject heartbreak, tearing up the very expression on her face.

“My sister wasn’t just stolen.” She announced. “She was TAKEN. That bastard fed from her. I bore witness to that much with my own eyes, unable to stop him. Unable to save her, or stop the grievous sin he forced her to commit.”

The question was in his eyes, Lenneth unable to suppress her pain, or the agitation that was making her shake. “He made her drink of his blood. Do you even know what that means? Can you imagine what she will become? What ruin she will bring upon herself and countless others?!”

“She’ll become one of the undead...”

“She will lose her very SOUL.” Lenneth proclaimed, and with it came her exhaustion. “I failed her.” Lenneth said in a broken despairing tone. “I failed every last one of them!”

    “You place too much of the burden on yourself.” Lezard protested.

“What do you know?!” She scoffed. “You weren’t even there!”

“That even one person survived, is a miracle.” But he hadn’t asked her just how she had managed that feat, Lenneth grimacing at the memory of just how easily Brahms had been able to defeat her.

           “My King doesn’t think so. Nor is he anywhere as understanding about a failure as you seem to be.” She was trying to force down the pain, the anger, and her unceasing worry for her sister. The effort to keep all that at bay, crept into her voice, Lenneth sounding ever so tired as she spoke. “He can see nothing but my faults, my FAILURE. A failure he deemed grave enough to warrant a most extreme of punishments.” She looked Lezard in the eyes as she said this.”It wasn’t enough to retire me ahead of my time, to strip me of divinity. To marry me off with little idea of who or what would be having me. No...none of this was enough, Odin would have me lose my free will, my heart taken just as surely as Silmeria’s life, her future, was stolen!”

Somehow Lezard had managed not to have flinched under all of that. Instead Lenneth’s near unforgiving tirade had softened the expression on his face, Lezard gazing at Lenneth with something that might have been PITY. She couldn’t bear it if it really was that, her temper already flaring to life long before he tried to offer his condolences.

“I am truly sorry for your losses, for ALL of them.”

“Your sorry does not bring me back my sister, or my honor!” Lenneth practically shouted at him. “The vampires have cost me EVERYTHING!”

“You STILL have your LIFE.” Lezard was quick to point out.

“Life!? What good is my life if I cannot even use it to save Silmeria?!” She demanded, attempting to pull away. Not without some effort exerted, but the man managed to hold onto the former Valkyrie Goddess.

        Maintaining eye contact with her, Lezard spoke. “You are suffering from survivor’s guilt. A common enough affliction, and one that is none too easy to work through. But in time….” At the scoffing sound Lenneth made at that, Lezard sighed. “Perhaps then, it wasn’t so much punishment as it was a kindness from Odin, when he attempted to enchant you to love me?”

    She stared at Lezard like he was half out of his mind, Lenneth shaking with an urge to do a very real violence to him. “How can you say that?” She asked in a strangled tone of voice.

     “I..I meant no insult.” Lezard correctly hastily. “But you can’t live out the rest of your life, mourning your sister and lost comrades. Anymore then you can spend that time blaming yourself for what has happened, or torturing yourself with the things that you might have done differently.  That’s not a good life, and you survived for a reason. You need to do those lost honor, you need to LIVE, Lenneth. You need to embrace life and that which it offers you.”

          She was still staring at him, mouth agape with her shock. He hadn’t made her see the validity of what he was suggesting, anymore than Lezard had made Lenneth believe that Odin had meant this marriage to be anything but a punishment.

       “With you?” She finally managed to say. Lenneth had wanted to sneer, but Lezard had left her to stunned to manage that or much of ANY expression.

         “It would be a START.” He told her with a smile.

       “Why would you even care?” Lenneth wanted to know. “I am a just a stranger to you...”

                 “Ah but you are a little more than that.” Lezard reminded her. “Yes, we might not know each other just yet, but one day it will be different. One day I want to be more to you, than just the man your king forced you to marry.”    

               She couldn’t help the suspicion that crept into her voice. “Oh?”

      I want to be your friend.” Her startled look of surprise, earned yet another smile from Lezard. “”Will you let? Will you allow me at least the chance to try?” He was no longer trying to restrain her, but then Lenneth was no longer trying to pull free of him. “I’ve no reason to try to trick you. My offer of friendship is just that, no schemes or hidden agendas to be found. None save for one.”

       “And that is?” She asked guardedly.

“So that we can get to truly know one another better.” He explained.

    Still maintaining that guarded tone, Lenneth cautiously spoke. “I don’t know if I can be your friend...”

      “You don’t know, or you don’t WANT to?” He asked, and Lenneth hesitated. Odin’s enchantment was still inside her heart, affecting her emotions, messing with her mind. It had never stopped playing with her, trying to make Lenneth be amenable to everything about Lezard, including just about anything he had suggested. The Valkyrie knew that Odin’s enchantment would settle for nothing less than her completely falling, Lenneth in love with the man who had kissed her awake. So strong was the enchantment, that it would be so easy to give in. So easy and even freeing, Lenneth no longer needing to fight, to think, if she would just let the spell over take her. She was stubborn though, Lenneth fighting both the magic and Lezard’s offer of friendship.          

    She didn’t think she could afford to let Lezard get that close to her, Lenneth saying as much out loud. Lezard was hardly turned aside by that. “Can you afford NOT to?” He had countered, and Lenneth unsure, had simply shrugged. “Ah well, you needn’t decide on it right this very second. My offer of friendship stands for however long that you need to decide towards accepting it or not.”

With that, the man had finally let go of her. “Well Lenneth, would you like to explore your new home?” He had set aside the bloodied cloth, Lezard seeming satisfied that Lenneth’s self inflicted wounds weren’t a danger to her.

    “Yes.” Lenneth quickly agreed. Just about anything was a better prospect than remaining alone with Lezard in this room. “I am quite curious about where I have ended up.” She added in a conversational tone.

        Lezard drew up short at that off hand comment, his look seeming shocked. “Odin did not tell you even that much at least?” It was more than just shock, Lezard was dismayed. “Your King has a sick sense of humor, leaving such explanations to me.”

        “Does he now?” Lenneth asked, with a confused look in her eyes. “Odin is known for many things, but somehow...humor isn’t one of them.” Lezard seemed to have no comment to that utterance, the man instead gesturing for Lenneth to follow him. He almost seemed to hesitate before the bedroom’s main door, as though Lezard was bracing himself for something unpleasant.

“Is there a problem?” She didn’t understand his hesitation, and Lezard didn’t offer up any immediate explanations. Instead he muttered something softly under his breath, the door then opening to reveal a long and wide corridor, and the few people that were walking about it. Most of them were dressed in the uniform of a servant, and those each carried things as they hurried off on their appointed tasks.

       There was also a few dressed in finer clothing, the likes of which made Lenneth think they were of noble birth. This group seemed to have nothing better to do, loitering about the hall, holding a hushed conversation. Both they and the servants all turned to look at Lezard and Lenneth, but no introduction or explanation was offered. Lenneth supposed that for right now it didn’t matter, the woman having enough on her mind without having to meet a whole new group of people.

        Such as the enchantment, Odin’s magic not anywhere near ready to relinquish it’s hold on Lenneth’s heart. The Valkyrie felt as though she had to maintain a constant vigilance against it, the fight such that it dulled the opulence of her surroundings. Lenneth did see and notice much, such as the intricately painted panelings of the walls, and the very expensive carpets on the floor. The woman saw the statues, and the richly appointed rooms through the open doors that she and Lezard walked past. She wasn’t impressed by such things, but Lenneth did know enough to recognize that Lezard was a very wealthy man. A man who liked having the finest on display, a man who saw no expense spared when it came to decorating his home.

    That he could afford to spread such wealth throughout a building of this size frankly amazed her, Lenneth not having realized that anyone could be as well off as the Gods. This castle didn’t quite rival Valhalla, but it was still a marvel. Lenneth found herself wondering just what Lezard did to make his living, and THAT is when she came across the crest. Such was it’s size, that Lenneth would have never NOT noticed it. Larger in size than most mirrors, the crest took up a generous portion of the wall it was adhered to.  

      Mystic runes were carved at the base of it, their red glow making her eyes water to look at them for too long. The language the runes spoke in, were of an old and near forgotten tongue, and yet to one who once been an immortal goddess, the language of the ancients was a common enough knowledge. Even if she was slightly rusty on some of the finer nuances.

     Almost absentmindedly, Lenneth had translated enough to get out the general gist of what was written. Of how the runes spoke of loyalty to a great Queen, telling of the prosperity that was to be earned at her feet. But that alone might not have been enough to alarm her. It was the image itself, the carvings that had been etched into the stones of the crest. A three legged horse that Lenneth had instantly known to be a Helhest beast was there, leading a chariot in which a single woman could be seen seated inside it. That woman only had half of her face made clear, as though the smooth stone of it had been purposefully left incomplete in giving the Queen her appearance.

“Lenneth? Is everything all right, my lady?”

It was only then, at the sound of Lezard’s voice, that Lenneth realized that she had come to a complete stop. Her body was practically paralyzed with the horror dawning inside her, the shock of her discovery pushing back even that of Odin’s love spell. Lenneth just stood there, her mouth open and gaping, her mind trying not to acknowledge just WHO was the patron Goddess of these people.

She didn’t want to accept it. Lenneth stared at the crest, then forced herself to turn to Lezard. She was shaking with the violent tremors that had overtaken her, Lenneth leaning into Lezard just close enough to breath in deeply of his scent. Her flaring nostrils that had thought they had caught the familiar scent of ether, now knew that it was just different enough. The two similar scents both brought to mind a powerful discharge, but where one was of the divine, the other wasn’t so blessed.

Magic. The scent was of magic. Now that she knew what it was, Lenneth would never ever mistake it for the other, magic so far removed from the Gods’ ether as to be a pitiful imitation.

Actually shaking in an attempt to suppress the worst of her horror, it was with the utmost in discomfort that Lenneth addressed Lezard with her questions. “What nation of Midgard have I come to reside in?” So much was already known, the very existence of magic here, betraying Lezard and his people as to what they already were. Yet Lenneth tried to deny it, foolishly hoped that the man would somehow answer with something other than what the Valkyrie knew to be the truth.

    “I have a right to know!” She added, when it appeared Lezard was going to leave her voiced question unanswered.

With a resigned sigh, Lezard seemed to deflate. “That you do.” He agreed, keeping his eyes locked with hers. It was as though he was gauging the reaction that Lenneth was already giving him. “This is Flenceburg.”

     “Flenceburg!” She gasped at the confirmation, her hand pressing over her chest as Lenneth staggered back against the wall. She simply couldn’t believe that Odin would do this to her, that her king could be so cruel. Was her failure to keep Silmeria away from Brahms really worth such an extreme punishment? That Odin would willingly send Lenneth among their enemies? Her eyes looked away from Lezard to the crest, finding it was a confirmation that made her shudder. She could almost picture the Queen's appearance now, and that of her mocking smile.

     How funny Queen Hel would find the situation. Lenneth was sure that that hated Goddess would find it highly humorous that one of Odin's Valkyries was now to be wed to one of her followers. For once Lenneth didn't have to fight the love enchantment, her horror all consuming. She may not have had much experience on Midgard, but she knew enough to know of Flenceburg. A nation that allied itself with the underworld, and it's Queen. The Goddess Hel of Nifleheim, a ruler who was rumored to hold many dread alliances, the most notorious being that of the undead.

      Still completely reeling, Lenneth stared at the crest, wanting to scream with her mounting revulsion, and the rage that was boiling inside of her. How could Odin have done this, how could he have put her in the heart of an enemy nation? How could he expect her to love this man, and to bear children that would one day swear their allegiance to the bitch Goddess Hel? Was Lenneth's failure such that it warranted such an extreme punishment? If Odin thought to make an example of Lenneth, he had surely succeeded. No Valkyrie would ever risk failing him again, for fear of being so dishonored.

        “You are handling this better than I would have actually thought.” Lezard had finally broken the silence. She nearly choked at his words, Lenneth too upset to do much more than stand there in a growing display of her shock and her horror. She almost didn’t notice the way that Lezard’s shoulders were sagging with disappointment, the way his very nature seemed to scream of his awkwardness and embarrassment. Lenneth might almost think Lezard was ashamed of his home land, and it would have been a justifiable response. Her reaction might be playing a huge part in that too, as though the man had realized that all of his hopes and his dreams where Lenneth was concerned had gone up in flames.

       “I am a Valkyrie.” She said at last. It was both a way of reminding him, and an explanation, Lezard nodding slowly in agreement. “I will honor the agreement.” Though she wouldn’t much like it. “Though I must admit to being quite curious how you managed to make such an arrangement with my King."

    Lezard seemed to turn even more uncomfortable at that inquiry, his eyes actually shifting away from her. He was hiding something, that much was obvious. Lenneth stepped towards him, intent on getting her answer.

         "The wedding will be in a few days' time." Now he was the one avoiding her touch, Lezard walking ahead of her. "I thought it best to let you acquaint yourself with your new home and it’s people before rushing into the ceremony."

          She frowned at his back, Lenneth thinking she would never be at ease with the people of this nation. Not when most if not all would be known followers of Hel, the lot of them sworn to the dark arts in the foul Queen's name. Perhaps even more unbearable was the thought, that unlike her sister Silmeria, there would be no one coming to rescue Lenneth from the predicament she had found herself in.

  Clenching her hands into fists, Lenneth slowly followed after Lezard. The words whispered in her head, but she knew not who to direct her prayers to. The woman would be damned before she would pray to Hel for guidance. But the Valkyrie was also loathe to pray for help from the very king who had betrayed her in so extreme a manner. In the end, she settled on her sister's name, Lenneth wishing Silmeria was somehow faring better than she.