#mY fAtAl FlOw Is My LoYaLtY To mY FrIeNdS

[rafyki]

Can you believe that in SoN, when Percy finds out Nico has been kidnappend by Gaea (and may be dead) he doesn't even stop to worry about him? No he's worried about Hazel, bc it's her brother they're talking about and he's like 'don't worry we'll find out what happened to him', but that's for Hazel's sake, bc in his mind Percy's too busy being salty that Nico lied to him (for the whole world's sake, I might add!) to care that he might be fucking dead????

Percy Jackson you're so lucky you're not real otherwise you'd fucking catch these hands what the hell

[yonemurishiroku]

(tags via @smartichokes) In light of new addition to my Luke & Nico replacement post, I have so much to say about this.

Firstly, there is a fanfic in which Kronos switched to Nico as his host halfway through the series. I said fic, Nico went to Tartarus wayyyyy sooner than he should (which is sometime right after TTC I think?), and got captured by Kronos' force. The Titan considered seizing him, so Luke left the Titan Army and returned to the light side.

With that being said, the Nico in said fic didn't become the host, as Luke (and Ethan) got him out before the taking-over.

In another fic, which is about Nico's apotheosis, It is established that Kronos has been taunting Hades to become his host since he is his eldest child, and as a result, Nico would suffer the same fate should he become a God. Nico didn't, of course, but we can see that he can be a great candidate for the position of Kronos’ host Due to the potential he possesses as a child of Hades. I have talked so much about how powerful he is so I suppose this goes without saying.

On the other hand, the child of the prophecy was supposed to be the son of an eldest god, so let's imagine: Nico is a child of an elder god and now is basically One of the main factors that dictate their fate being the central of Kronos' power. Can you imagine the thrill of having both the antagonist and the protagonist a child of the big three, knowing both of them have the power to change the flow of the story? Nico might as well be the child of the prophecy and now he is in the hands of the big bad villain? Who is to say he wouldn't choose to raze the Olympic to the ground? Please, I cannot be the only one seeing the thrill of second-guessing yourself and watching Percy second-guessing himself, page by page.

Back to our AU.

- Absolutely invested in Nico with Kronos' golden eyes.

- Idk if you have noticed, but there are a number of people who would very much be delighted to see Nico joining the Titan Army - so that's a plus. Though we haven't thought as far as putting him directly in Luke's place, this is such a fun territory to play with.

On the other hand, we should have thought about that lmao what's with Minos having done exactly like this in the canon. The King did manipulate Nico in order to accelerate his uprising (tho Rick wasn't unhinged enough to give the Underworld ghosts the benefit of possessing living things except for the eidolons).

Minos failed ofc. But surely the scenario is there. Furthermore, a big reason that hindered Minos was Nico's true control over him, which returned to him upon his enlightenment, thus breaking the fake power balance. But Nico didn't have any control over Kronos. Once he's in, there's no way out. Kronos is on another level compared to Minos. Luke had one way out and that was his death. Who to say the arms of Hades wouldn't be Nico's ending should he succumb to Kronos anw.

- I like the way you mention Percy - because as it turns out, Nico can perfectly mirror Luke regarding how Percy's fatal flaw is portrayed.

Percy's fatal flaw can be summed up in one sentence - "You would sacrifice the world to save a friend". Now, for Luke, it was thanks to the guy's friendly facade at the start that Percy had trouble deeming him as the enemy at first. For Nico, that's a little different. It's not friendship - bc surely Percy didn't consider 'friend' at that time. So what could it be?

The guilt. And the Loyalty from which it sprouted.

But loyalty to what?

To Bianca's promise.

And this varies between perspectives, but I suspect this can be much, much worse than what transpired with Luke if you know how to play it right. Why? Because it weighs on Percy's kindness, his conscience, his loyalty, his morals. It feels heavier. For Luke, it was a personal betrayal. For Nico, it would be a repeated failure that resulted in two deaths.

And I doubt Percy is fond of failures and deaths.

Do you know the saying that we tend to remember bad things rather than good memories? That. Failures stuck with us, whilst success paled in comparison (Not to mention the vague depiction of Percy's lost self-esteem, but I digress).

For Luke, it might be easier: the guy's now an enemy, Percy just had to put him down - straight and clear. For Nico, it's a little bit different. The kid's obviously an enemy - but he's also that: a kid. Whose sister died in front of Percy, whom he blamed still. You can tell that the setup itself might make it harder for Percy to just straight-up consider Nico an enemy - because as it was, Nico could very well be a victim of Percy's broken promise. Percy is half a reason he fell into the hands of Kronos - as you've said.

And Percy isn't evil. He's a protagonist and he's kind. His morals would prevent him from seeing Nico as an enemy that must be taken out - not before trying restlessly to bring the kid back.

- Percy aside, Hades’ support - and all the little benefits gained from Nico's side quest - should also be taken into account. Without Nico, there wouldn't be the Curse of Achilles. Without Nico, there would be no undead army rushing to save them in the last minute in the last Olympian, but rather a flock of unbeatable enemies that would persist like Nico’s grief for Bianca.

I wouldn't say that guarantees their failure but you have to admit that it would make things hella more difficult for them to win this war.

So that is for the advantages. Now let's talk about the drawbacks. Because obviously things wouldn't be so fun if everything goes that smoothly. 👍

The most noticeable difference between Luke and Nico is their ages, and further, their experiences. At the time he was chosen, Luke has lived until his 17, 18 as a demigod, has seen the mythological world more than Nico ever did. He would know better how to navigate the system, which would benefit Kronos more than a clueless Nico. You can argue that Kronos can properly train him as Minos did, but the fact remains that Luke has experiences that can only be gained through living, aging, and seeing.

On the same topic, after losing his sister, Nico was just a rage-driven, angry, lost 11-12-year-old kid. He could barely take care of himself. He obviously cannot govern and command an entire army. Luke, on the other hand, has many skills required to be a leader. I have talked about this once. He has the tongue, he has his charms, he's manipulative enough. As a tool and a weapon, Luke proves to be a better choice to be the pioneer of Kronos' revolution.

Of course, unless you need a puppet, in which case Nico proves to be a better choice. He was naive .he didn't know better. Luke try to resist because he saw how devastating his actions were/ would be. It should be much easier to fool a kid like Nico rather than an adult, thus limiting the chances of rebuke. I cannot recall exactly what Kronos was trying to do though, so I'll just leave this here.

The best method is of course to keep Luke while getting Nico ready, however, it would put kronos plans back a few years and I'm not really sure the guy would be that patient provided that he has been waiting thousand years to make a come back. So we will just leave it like that.

All in all, it's fun to think about a scenario in which the one whose contribution directly leads to their victory in the original series now becomes the main antagonist, the main reason they will likely fail. Thank you @smartichokes for the delightful idea!! 🥺🥺🥺

[polarisdelphi]

Continuing my Arthurian concepts, Lancelot of the Lake (I wanted it to be Lancelot du Lac, but alas, it looked really bad on his sheet, with the fancy font and all). As I did with Arthur, we have Lancelot and his sword - again, I just have a thing for designing fancy swords :')

His whole concept is blue, because you know... Of the Lake. Child of Avalon. It had to be blue hahaha every detail on his sword/armour is to look like plants, fountains and water.

I also wanted his sword to have that ~clashing~ of fluid like fountain shapes and rectangular, harsh line shapes because even if he is water, he is also constant in his loyalty, beliefs and is someone you can rely on.

(oh I told you guys I have some hot takes regarding Lancelot, Guinevere and all that... 'TIS LOTTIE TIME NOW)

Also did the whole ~testing Photoshop layers thing~ again and, lo and behold, we have some vitral looking version of Lancelot. It can also be him during one of the rituals in Avalon, who knows ;)

More ramblings on my version of Lancelot, what I thought during his design, who he is to me as a character and why he has that insufferable smug smile, under the cut below hahahaha

(fangirling? yes, fangirling over arthurian legend, yee been warned)

First things first: YES, Ioan Gruffud.

I fell in love with Lancelot because of him in the 2005 King Arthur movie and that is FOREVER the vision I have of Lancelot, this man has SINGLE-HANDEDLY made me believe he is a loyal friend and a little shit at the same time and there is NO room for another Lancelot in my mind.

I fucking love him so much

The 2005 movie is one of my favourite versions (I was 13 when I first watched it, he was my teenage crush, I'll love it to death) - but it does leave a lot of the characters out to create a whole other story on its own. I love it, but there's so much more on Arthurian Legend we can work on!

My Lancelot, then: yes, prince of Benoic. Taken by Avalon, raised by the Lady of the Lake, ruthless in combat. Best Knight of the Round Table, could even be better than Arthur (some say), and fiercely loyal to his companions and commander.

One hell of a womanizer, though. This man can't see a good looking woman - or even man, for that matter - without starting to flirt and say some things that would make even the gods flush. Everyone laughs while Galahad wants to die every single time Lancelot's flirty mode is ON.

Pretty useful when they have more stealthy missions that require lying, deception and cheating - be it men or women, Lancelot's charm will NEVER fail.

(other more "brutish" Knights, so to speak, say it's his Avalon ✨ pixie charm ✨ - and really, the man doesn't disagree)

Even if he is very loyal to his friends, brothers in arms, and his beloved Arthur, he can't be like that in romances, though. Lancelot's love is a quick flame that burns down an entire forest in the blink of an eye and it's put out quickly with a heavy rain the day after, while Arthur's love is a lingering fire on a winter night, keeping his lovers warm and away from harm as long as it has wood or coal to burn.

That's why I chose to give Lancelot a more reliable look with all the rectangular shapes, constant stripes and more of a "bulky" look compared to Arthur (Arthur has more of a slim-strong constitution). But he also has some sharp points, because of how dangerous he is, and the ever flowing shapes of the water of Avalon - like his very flowy dark blue cape.

He's always covered in blood too. He is the best Knight, he has no problems when it comes to killing, and he doesn't have Arthur's moral compass. If he has to be ruthless, he will be.

(told ya this man lives rent free in my head)

And that's very important to his character, in my opinion. Lancelot is a pagan, he doesn't mind bloodshed, and he certainly has no issues with giving in to lust and earthly pleasures. There is no Heaven to judge him, and no Hell to burn him. He is fatally human. Not trying to be better and to go on a moral high horse when his hands are covered in blood and his only talent is death - just surviving his times as he can.

HENCE - and brace yourselves for hot take time! - why he loves Guinevere, but he's in NO WAY a better man than Arthur. He would stop his flirting and womanizing shenanigans for her, but WHY would she give up someone so absurdly upstanding and unreal like Arthur for him? And he doesn't want her to. She deserves better than him. He loves being around her, his heart aches, but how many hearts hasn't he broken? It's kind of a poetic justice sort of thing in his view.

And he wouldn't sleep with her, not when she loves Arthur and Arthur loves her so fucking much. He might be a little shit, yes, sassy, bitter, hedonistic and even annoying at times - but he is loyal. He doesn't love easy, and when he does, he loves hard. And he loves Arthur too much to do the one thing that would destroy the man he would give his life for.

He's a bastard, but he does have standards. A bastard with feelings :)

Jokes aside, this is, again, MY take on Lancelot. MY Lancelot, is all fun and games, will argue religion with every single catholic/christian he meets on his way, will get covered in blood during battle, will kill with no remorse, will drink with no remorse, will indulge in sex and break hearts with no remorse.

But he will give his life for his friends - he will sacrifice everything for those he loves, and his loyalty can never be bought - for in the end of the day, if he's lying on the grass choking in his own blood, he knows those are the ones who would come to his aid. He knows Arthur would rather die for him than watch him die - even if Lancelot thinks this would be the utmost stupid-est and unfairest thing to ever do.

The world deserves and needs an Arthur in it - not a Lancelot.

In my Arthurian Legend, this is his character, this is who he is. A lot more darkness and existential dread, pleasures and adrenaline rushes in battle to cover up how flawed he thinks he is - even if bards sing of his heroic feats, his reputation is that of a hero and women everywhere swoon upon hearing his name, painting him as a knight in shining armour.

He's not - he's a womanizer in a blood stained armour, pledging his killing skills to someone who has a better, idealistic view of the world and higher moral standards than him.

If you read all of this, thank you for coming to my TED Talk, and do know I suffered immensily not making him a dual-wielding killing powerhouse.

[aragarna]

For the fandom ask: the three musketeers ❤️

What originally drew me to it

What I like most and least about it

The character/story arc I find the most compelling

A scene/moment that makes me really emotional every single time

What originally drew me to it

You do realize I first read that book 25 years ago?! I have not idea why I picked up that book in particular then, except for the fact that as a kid, I read as many French classics as I could. But what I do remember immediatly enjoying are two things:

The camaraderie. That strong and immediate friendship. That deep sense of loyalty, and that feeling that together we can face anything. Together, we're unstoppable. You need to cross the Channel and go right into the Enemy's den? Let's go, I've got your back. They didn't call it that back then, but it's totally the foundation of the "found family" trope. Tous pour un, un pour tous.

The other thing that contributed a lot to my love for this book was Dumas' writing style. It's joyful, and funny, and very rhythmic. There is quite often a sort of jubilation in his words. It's classic literature, beautiful and with a lot of flare, but still very readable (nothing annoys me more than a writer that makes it unnecessarily complicated. Words must flow.).

What I like most and least about it

What I like the most is the aforementioned friendship and the sense of adventure (see above).

What I like the least is probably the whole Milady story arc. As much as I love those books, I have to admit that, as a product of its time, the story lacks truly compelling female characters. Yes, there are a couple of female characters (including the Queen, who feels actually more important than the King), and of course Milady. And yes, Milady is an interesting and complex character but she's also, despite being originally the actual victim, shown as a very dangerous woman. One we must not feel too much sympathy for (and well, she did some pretty nasty things to our heroes, so I didn't feel too much sympathy for her...). And I've never really like the Femme Fatale archetype, which really is a male fantasy.

So on the one hand, she's not a character that I liked, but on the other hand, boys, what the hell?! You don't take justice into your own hands like that!! That's just... wrong! And Athos, my friend, really?! For a tattoo?! And you're supposed to be the wise one. So, yeah that whole *hand wave* thing at the end of The Three Musketeers, not their finest hour. (I'm actually quite curious how they're gonna solve that in the movie...)

The character/story arc I find the most compelling

My favorite character is d'Artagnan. He's the youngest one (18 already seemed super old to 12-13 years old me), and when we meet him, he's full of innocence and hope, something I could relate to. I love that he is so full of energy and ideas. Daring and adventurous. Very positive, though he becomes more philosophical and sarcastical as he grows older (I'm including Twenty Years Later and The Vicomte of Bragelonne). But always, all his life, he remains attached to his original three friends. He is the definition of loyalty.

And a story arc that I love is actually something that happens in Twenty Years Later. It's more of a scene than the whole arc, but it's one of my favorite. D'Artagnan and Porthos are in England for like, capturing Charles I, who was on the run or something. On the road at night, they encounter some enemies and start fighting, though it's too dark to see who they are. And d'Artagnan gets annoyed cause his opponent is parying all his attacks and he let go an exasperated "Mordious!" and his opponent freezes and they recognize each other - the enemies were Athos and Aramis, who were helping the King - and they just fall into each other's arms. Like, the circumstances that brought us here don't matter, we'll figure things out, but man it's so good to see you. Let's go clean out an inn, and we'll talk.

(I really wish they'd adapt Twenty Years Later for once)

A scene/moment that makes me really emotional every single time

Of all the very emotional scenes from The Vicomte of Bragelonne is probably Porthos' death. I won't give too many details as to not spoil the how and when but damn, I actually remember a lump in my throat as I was reading that chapter. It really felt like I had lost something. Or someone. The book goes all the way to the end of their lives, so, like, they all die, but Porthos', for some reason, is the one that hit the hardest.

Wow that got long! Thank you so much for the ask, my friend :)

[sunnysviolin]

can- can we please have more of the mob au 🥺 i loved it sm would love to see more!!

YES O H My god this is literally my favorite AU. I’m so fucking excited by this oh my god. Okay for you nonnie you get to have the story of how Mari took over her family’s business. Putting this under a read more for strong themes TW: Death TW: Mob TW: Murder (Like someone actively gets killed) 

Mari was raised as her father’s successor. Her mother wanted Mari to not be involved at all and to just be a happy sweet girl who played piano and created a powerful alliance through marriage (She wanted her to be closer to Canon Mari’s personality) 

Her father saw her intelligence, her cunning. He saw her spirit which had a detached power. He knew she would be able to make tough decisions and keep herself whole as she did it. 

Ultimately it’s his decision, and he decides he wants Mari to become him in due time. Her mother moans and wails about it, but he will not be swayed. Even when Sunny is born four years later, he does not budge into stereotypical gender roles.

Mari’s father assembles a team of people for her who are ultimately loyal to her not him. His own consigliere advises against this, but her father knows Mari will be great and in order to achieve that greatness she will need people who are dedicated to her. 

Among those people are a set of twins who belong to a baker under his protection. The twins are Mari’s age and they are strangely morally ethic. The twins are told by their parents that they are to be friends with Mari and to listen to whatever she says. Soon enough they forget they were ever given this direction, Mari is just theirs to follow.

Mari’s father makes one fatal flaw that leads to his downfall. 

When Mari is four and a half years old, he introduces her to Hero. Their parents are affiliated with one another, but they both run their own organizations. They’re civil, but that’s all. They expect their children to be the same.

Their children immediately fall in love. True pure honest to god love. 

Both fathers are less than pleased, but they agree that a union between their families would be mutually beneficial. Hero is the next in line for his own power, and having two strengths would be...interesting. 

It’s a tentative bond that could snap in a second, except Hero and Mari are not as weak as the agreement between their fathers. They spend every day together. They grow together, they learn together, they only get closer and closer.

They know their destiny. They will rule together and nothing will be able to get in their way. They are equals, matched in every way. 

Their fathers are less pleased. Mari’s father refuses to let his daughter and his future be put to the wayside, and Hero’s father has no interest in having his son be anything less than the most powerful person around. Where their children found balance, the fathers found discord. 

When she is sixteen years old, Mari’s father breaks her engagement with Hero. 

Hero’s father had encroached on his territory (yet again) and it is the final straw for her father. Mari tries to argue with him, but he is deep into his Don headspace, and there is nothing she can say to make him reconsider. He will not have his mind changed, and he is going to deal with the problem once and for all. 

He orders a hit on the entire family. Hero’s mother, father, Kel, even the newborn Sally. But more than anything, if the only one who dies is Hero then her father will be satisfied. He wants to make sure there is no heir other than Mari. No one else but his own blood who can take the crown. 

Mari finds out about this hit, and a cold cruel breeze rolls down her spine. 

Her father’s hold has been steadily weakening the older she gets, and his latest deranged action is unsettling to the capos and his advisors. Even her mother is disturbed by his fervor against her daughter’s ex-fiance. 

Mari has options. Mari makes her choice.

Mari kills her father on her seventeenth birthday. The morning of March 1st is freezing, but her hand on the pistol doesn’t shake. Her father is still raging, still yelling at his men and shouting orders. Mari doesn’t need to shout. Her word is law. 

A congregation watches her. Hero’s mother and father who she warned of her father’s plans, Kel and Sunny who are probably too young to watch but have to understand the change, all of the capos who have chosen loyalty to her, and thus chosen to live. Hero is the one who hands her the loaded pistol. He stands at her side as she carries out the hit.  

Those not in attendance include her mother and her father’s top advisors. They are being arrested in a Sting operation she set up. It was good that her mother forced her to keep her pristine mob daughter image. Her snow white dresses and long flowing hair create a perfect picture of innocence. It was all too easy to trick the FBI into doing her bidding. 

Right before she kills him her father becomes fully lucid to what is happening. He stares up at her from past the barrel of the gun. She is not second guessing. She is not grieving him. There is only a cold fury. He dared to threaten what was hers. He had the audacity to try and bite the hand that feeds. 

Her father’s last words continue to haunt her far into her adulthood

“Now you’re a perfect legacy,”

After her father’s death his business splits into parts and divides out. Mari keeps those who were closest to her (and all the money) but the rest she liquidates in one way or another. 

She and Hero are married a month after her father’s death. They are both seventeen. The wedding is a beautiful affair, and that night she sits with her father in law and her husband and they discuss her wedding gifts. 

Her wedding gift is Hero stepping back. She has proven her loyalty to him and their family. She has proven her dedication to their continuation, her ability to do whatever is necessary. Hero has always been better at the other side of things. The wooing, the wheeling and dealing. This is the right way. With her at the helm and Hero as her most trusted, she will create an empire that will outlive all of them. 

Her second wedding gift comes from Daphne and Bowen. Their parents had been a part of those culled, an unfortunate reality. They took custody of their younger brother and ownership of their parents bakery. Their parents had the choice to back the right horse, and they chose wrong. Nether twin holds this against her. They offer her their bakery as her starting point. 

Don Mari begins her reign with blood stained hands and an elegant white wedding dress. White becomes her symbol. 

[akatsuki-shin]

Review: 默读 Mò Dú (Silent Reading)

Notes:

(Very) long post ahead

Contains spoiler

This is my personal review and does not represent the entire audience, you are free to agree or not agree with what I’ve written here

Feel free to reply/send me a message if there are things you want to discuss

Using the Donghua poster because it fits the overall story more than the Audio Drama cover. :'))

Summary:

Yan City is a bright, bustling metropolis filled with all sorts of wonders, all sorts of people. From the richest occupying the city's most prestigious residential areas to the poorest huddling together in rundown slums, from the most fortunate blessed with a life of comfort to the wretched deemed to struggle until their last breath, from the virtuous walking in the path of light to the wicked lurking under the cover of darkness.

There is as much good as there is evil, and days gone by, people coming and going along with the passage of time.

Since their first meeting during a certain case seven years ago, Captain of the City Bureau's Crime Investigation Unit Luo Wenzhou thought he would never see eye to eye with Fei Du, son of a well-known conglomerate who inherited his father's position and wealth after the latter fell into comatose due to a near-fatal accident three years ago.

Words as sharp as knives dyed their bitter exchanges, even their personality was like the heaven and earth; the bold, blunt, and straightforward Luo Wenzhou - and the astute, secretive Fei Du, with his beautiful peach blossom eyes and a smile that is not quite a smile seducing countless people, his very presence seems as if it was covered under layers and layers of deceit.

Every single time they meet, they would always part on bad terms. Yet Luo Wenzhou would never have thought that a seemingly ordinary murder case of an ordinary deliveryman would lead him into the mystery of multiple long forgotten unsolved cases, turning over the Yan City and the City Bureau itself upside down, making him question his faith to those he respected and trust - and along with it, opening a door to the truth of Fei Du's past never once known to others.

STORY: 9/10

At first glance, the overall plot of Silent Reading seems neither extravagant nor exceptional. It's just one of those police drama where the main leads had to wrestle in a battle of wits with the villains looming around them, struggling to outsmart each other and eventually, bringing justice to those who deserve it.

But that is exactly what is so good about it. Silent reading could take all of those cliche and packed them into one nerve-wrecking, enticing journey from start to finish, complete with both intense and amusing interactions, and just the right amount of romance that does not disturb the flow of the main story.

And it actually does have its own uniqueness.

In most police dramas I've ever seen, the enemy is usually either a corrupt high-ranking official committing some hideous criminal acts by abusing their authority, or an individual/group with some very extreme values or obsession. Silent Reading, however, have both of those two most general types of villains in the story and what's more? It pits them against each other, pulling around and forcing the main leads to wreck their brains, slowly unravel the tangled mess until the truth finally comes to light.

The action and suspense, the atmosphere, the analysis, everything was almost impeccable to the point of perfection.

I have to especially give my kudos to how the author (Priest) structured the mystery in such a way, connecting one dots to the other from beginning to end. During the first few cases, I thought the resolution of the case didn't feel very solid, as if there are still some details that have yet to be properly elaborated. Yet halfway through, I realize that there is actually a bigger plot that encompass everything, tying all loose ends together.

And here, I would also like to highlight my two most favorite scene.

The first one is in Chapter 114-115 when Luo Wenzhou finally peeled of Fei Du's defense and for the first time exposed his true feelings, making Fei Du faced and spoke what he truly felt for Luo Wenzhou - that he really, actually did care for him. Their entire interactions and development up to this scene fits so well with these two main characters. There was no nonsense, no sappy crying and needless drama. Luo Wenzhou was as blunt as he was desperate and Fei Du, for once, admitted to the truth straight out with his own mouth.

The second one is in Chapter 157. In this case, one of Fei Du's most trusted men and an extremely important witness (that would later become their ally) were being chased and surrounded by thugs hired by their enemy. At this point of the story, the City Bureau was already in turmoil. Luo Wenzhou was suspended, nobody knows who they could or could not trust. Yet still, his subordinates all set out swiftly under his command and followed him to save the two witnesses, appearing at the most critical time.

It was actually a typical scene that exist in many police action drama, but given the development of the story, the well-built character relationship and interactions, I think it is Luo Wenzhou's coolest scene in the entire story and it makes me admire him a lot as the main lead and a leader figure.

One thing that does not quite sit well with me is Fan Siyuan's obsessiveness towards the late Gu Zhao. His motive for the crime was clear and I understand that he was using Gu Zhao's case as an example of injustice. But his extreme emotions whenever Gu Zhao was mentioned seems strange, even baseless. It makes me think whether he considers Gu Zhao as his own family or he was maybe madly in love with Gu Zhao, whereas in the entire story, unless I'm missing something, I have only ever known that Gu Zhao was Fan Siyuan's student - nothing more, nothing less.

CHARACTERS: 9/10

Silent Reading has a balanced, yet still very much appealing casts, from the major characters to the minor ones. Even the suspects and witnesses each had their own distinguishing features that didn't make them look like they were just there as canon fodders.

The composition of Luo Wenzhou's team itself is ideal; they've got the dependable leader, the smart advisor, the best friend and trustworthy right-hand man, the genius nerd, and the dependable aide.

I especially like Tao Ran (and I think most readers would agree with me). While he looks like the typical good guy type, he really, truly is a very good person. It's hard not to find him lovable. His relationship with Chang Ning was as cliche as it could get, but hey, as long as he's happy. Dude deserve it after everything he's done.

As for the two main leads, they are probably one of the most interesting couple I've found in the past few years.

Individually, Luo Wenzhou is the type of character I always like. He is confident to the point of having a narcissistic streak, but all of those are based on real talents and experiences. He speaks bluntly, but he cares for others through his action. He does not sugarcoat things and speaks the truth for what it is. Everything about him simply screams "reliable" as a leader (and a significant other to a certain someone). He deserves all of the respect and loyalty his subordinates gave to him.

Fei Du at first looks like a complex character whose real self is hidden beneath countless coats of pretense, but at the core, he is just a pitiful young man who does not know how to value himself, does not know how to love and be loved due to the abuse he suffered during childhood in the hands of his sadistic father. Despite his composure, his intelligence, his capability, he is almost like a lost little child, wandering in the darkness, going wherever the flow would take him until Luo Wenzhou pulled him out of that abyss. It is nothing less than commendable that he could restrain himself from succumbing into his father's manipulation, even if he has to correct himself through such extreme means for a long time.

And I'm glad that now he has someone who gives him the love he has long since been bereft of.

With Luo Wenzhou, Fei Du finally has a color in his life, someone to make happy memories with, and someone who genuinely love him for who he is. Likewise, with Fei Du, not only Luo Wenzhou got someone he could genuinely care for, he also finally has a place where he could relax, taking off the strong front he'd been putting before others all day long.

It was just so fulfilling to see two characters growing from "cat and dog" into inseparable lovers. They weren't sickeningly sweet, but just two people who are content with each other and would be each other's strength. I was especially happy when I saw how Fei Du changed his phone's ring tone into the one Luo Wenzhou in the extra chapter.

Now that I've finished reading this story, these two straight up went to the top of my all-time most favorite pairing list. But of course, this is just a personal opinion. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du simply hits all of my favorite tropes, that's why. 😂

If I really have to point out one mini flaw, I suppose it's that the main villains aren't as appealing as the rest of the casts. They were practically overshadowed, even by some minor characters that only appeared for a short while.

TECHNICAL ASPECTS: 9/10

Just some very minor complaints:

1). When the story first introduced Fei Du in the beginning, it felt kind of abrupt. The narration had only been addressing him with his physical appearance, but suddenly they changed it into "Fei Du" with barely any proper start.

2). The international conference in Yan City (Chapter 2) was supposed to be a background information of the general setting of the first case, yet it was not properly mentioned at the start - rather, one sort paragraph about said conference was simply being slipped in the middle just for the sake to be there.

3). The switching of scenes between characters in the 3rd person POV are sometimes too quick with no signs of incoming transitions beforehand like taking shortcuts.

And by that, I mean that other than those three issues above, everything else was nothing less than perfect.

OVERALL SCORE: 9/10

A realistic story with perfectly balanced action, mystery, suspense, and romance - with a dash of comedy sprinkled at the right time and place.

Reading the novel from start to finish was nothing less than enjoyable. Whenever there needed to be a flashback or explanation, it didn't feel like info dump being thrown in all of a sudden.

I would like to point out a bit about the Zhou Conglomerate Case in Book 3.

Personally speaking, I think this is the most realistic case out of the others, and by that, I don't mean the crazy rich family drama.

The other cases in the books are something that to me feels "faraway"; murders, child trafficking, psychopath, organized criminal gangs. Yet in Book 3, due to the nature of the case, it was posted publicly for all to see, and damn if it didn't bring out the most annoying thing I actually hate in real life.

Clout-chasing media, meddlesome netizens commenting without thinking on the Internet, spreading personal information of the involved individuals without consent, handing down judgment based on rumors and personal opinions even if they have nothing to do with it (and know nothing about it), crashing the website due to mere curiosity, further hindering the police working on the case from doing their job.

They weren't thinking about those actually involved in the case, especially the victim. They don't care, or maybe don't even think that their meddlesome acts could cost a human's life because they see everything as mere passing entertainment. And if something were to happen because of their meddling, the most they would say is, of course, as quoted from Chapter 72:

"I didn't do it on purpose"

"I wasn't doing it to you"

"I didn't expect this to be the outcome"

"From a certain point of view, I'm a victim, too"

Even if I was just reading a fiction, at that moment I truly wished I could shut down the Internet for a bit. 😂

Anyway, amazing story. I might re-read everything from the start again when I have some free time.

[uwua3]

Yo! Can i ask for a cute Pirate AU with an adventure seeking MC pirate captain, who, when she and her crew are making a stop at some port, meets her childhood friend, Tenma, with whom she has romantic tension, only Tenma is a big blushing tsundere mess, and MC is verrrryyy oblivious to his blushiness, but accidentally innocently flirts with him?? If that makes sense? Also oops the soldiers have seen me, the wanted pirate, wanna get out of here and join my crew?

summary: a deal is made between a pirate captain haunted by their legacy and an island medium who wants to go home

warnings: alcohol, death (mentions), cops/police, crime, fights (physical/arguments), fires, ghosts, military, near–death experiences, pirates, slow-burn, swords, unrequited love/love triangle

author’s note: thank you so much for your patience requesting this pirate story~ i did my best to do this justice, as i love pirates more than anything! .*:ﾟ（｀・ω・´）ゝﾟ:*. this was a jolly good time to write, thank you! (please let me know if you would like a part 02 to this, as it ran longer than expected)! thank you!! :D

word count: 6,163

music: ship in a bottle – fin

captain, let’s make a deal.

☀️🌻 sumeragi tenma

even out at sea, you couldn’t escape the fire that destroyed your town years ago. the fire that made you become a pirate captain

you were born by a local village by the coast, where the air tasted like salt no matter what and trade was your community’s main economy

it was home. a place where everyone knew each other as family, where the sun was hot upon even warmer smiles and the euphoric laughter of children surrounded the island. this was the land of the happy, the free, and the united

it wasn’t until the damn navy—your first enemy until death—came

according to heresay, pirates were supposed to plunder and pillage without mercy. pirates were the villain and yet, what would the navy be then? after what they did to you, they were anything but heroes

yonaguni was made of tall palm trees that provided shade during the eternal summer that sunburnt your skin, floating markets by the pier with tricky elderly and learning apprentinces in the family business, and rare wildlife not found anywhere else

now, it was nothing more than hell. you could remember it all—how the flames licked the open wounds from navy seamen, the screams of the innocent replacing what would’ve been last words meant for decades later, the sound of crashing trees blocking every available escape route as birds flew away in the distance

you were just a yonaguni native, and now, there was nothing left of your hometown. it was permanently erased from world history forever, and you were the sole survivor of the island, making you the most wanted vigilante alive

it had been years since you last had a nightmare of the attack. was haunting your brain and traumautizing you for life during every waking hour not enough?

but, you knew the answer why you couldn’t stop mourning the loss of yonaguni

it was nearing the anniversary of your friend, sumeragi tenma’s, death

and, as you climbed to the crow’s nest with the power of the ocean running through your salted veins and spite overwhelming you in the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, you could see it over the horizon

the navy said dead men tell no tales, but you were alive, and you would be a legend

“all hands ahoy or you’ll be given no quarter!” (everyone on deck or you’ll be shown no mercy)

“aye, captain!” your crew replied eagerly, their loyalty unwavering and strong as always. you stood atop of the main mast, surrounded by vast ocean bordering a blue, cloudless sky. even without your telescope, you could see everything in the world

beneath you sounded the swing of the lines (rope) against the wind before two feet landed in the crow’s nest. the sailor had the type of agility that only came from a boy born on sea

“cap, don’t tell me ya forgot about me?” your quartermaster, rurikawa yuki, grinned (a rare sight that only came when the ocean smelt strongest of salt and treasure), standing at the ledge whilst holding onto the lines with one hand. any other novice would’ve immediately fallen off with how strong the random gusts of wind were, but yuki was an enigma and your second in command for a reason

“ahoy, yuki! so long as the jolly rodger waves, this crew will always be ready to set sail.” you responded, sliding down the mast to be in the crow’s nest as well. yuki just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning upon your frame like it was nothing

“don’t hornswaggle (cheat) me, cap. what are you thinking about?” yuki read you like a map, as expected of the second best cartographer (after master boatswain muku, of course) in all the seven seas. you tried to remain present in the moment, with the wind flowing and sky clear, but it wasn’t enough

“... tell me, yuki. is it so easy to read the distraught upon my face?” you joked, but it fell flat as yuki raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your facade. yuki didn’t take bullshit from anyone, not even his own captain

“aye, do not be acting as if you’re feeding the fish (about to die), captain.” yuki carefully watched if any of their small crew was eavesdropping, but the rest were doing their proper tasks for the morning. cartographer muku was happily reading directions to helmsman misumi. the two were a fantastic pair, considering the “sky” ship hasn’t sunken

surgeon kazunari was dutifully sanitizing his medical tools besides them, taking some time to laugh loudly at some story misumi was dramatically reenacting as he spun the wheel skillfully

“boom about!” yuki called out without looking away, already feeling it in his bones moments before anyone else could. his intuition was unheard of, and you watched no one hesitate as they ducked just in time

“sorry~!” misumi responded without any apologetic tone to his voice whatsoever. his sailor’s grin was infectious and wide, a smile only those accustomed to the fatal winds and waves of the ocean could make. just like everyone else on the “sky” ship, they all were forged by the sea

“smartly make way to land before i toss you off myself!” yuki snapped, but it held no malice. he rolled his eyes unimpressed when kazunari laughed at misumi’s sarcastic salute, knowing pirates did no such navy thing without mockery

“oh, dear yuki, how could i drown with you by my side?” you reached over to ruffle his hair, the precarious creak of the wooden mast the last thing on your mind as yuki swatted at your hand, irritated by the littlest of things as always

“you’re right, i’ll have your head first anyways.” yuki said with no malice, giving you a small frown as his calculating eyes glanced over you once more, trying to find any cracks in your confident visage. when he found nothing, he climbed back down, seemingly unsatisfied when you didn’t break under his stare

(you were one of the few on the crew who didn’t flinch. the other was misumi, who just had no fear towards anything, so it wasn’t personal. after all, misumi was the finest swashbuckler around!)

ahead, your acute sight narrowed in on the growing formation in the distance, your gut tensing before realizing it was far too large to be another ship

with a grin, you hanged over the edge (a habit that no longer scares your crew), your voice amplified as it was carried downward by the wind. it was to be expected, of course, as a yonaguni native, your town always had a special connection to nature that no one else did

“my men, turn your heads and look forward into the horizon! what do you see?”

“land, captain!”

“then let us sail faster! the sooner we reach the shores, the quicker you all can take a damn shower!”

with a shared lighthearted laugh, everyone focused on their role and position towards the land mass ahead. whether it was the possibility of smelling like something else other than a siren’s cove or something more, you smiled, forgetting about last night’s sleepless disturbances

up ahead was fukusaki, sky crew’s next location for the night

after three months or so on sea, your crew’s resources were dwindling (much faster since everyone had a bottomless appetite). it was time to visit a port town to stock up and set sail the next sunrise

sure, it was a rushed habit of yours, but it was never good to stay in one place for too long. that came with the risk of losing again...

besides, who liked a crew of pirates to suddenly come to the town square in their stained clothing and gleaming swords?

after barely securing a place to tie down the great beauty known as “sky”, entering fukusaki was like any other town. merchants upon the docks were experts at haggling prices, civilians went by with their day to day life, and the sun burned everyone’s skin just the same

but as you placed your leather boot upon the wooden dock, something inside you turned. like something had suddenly shifted in the town but you had no idea what

yuki seemed to have felt the same thing, even if his facial expression didn’t change. as kazunari kept muku from fighting with a seller for a map of the local area (misumi was unfortunately encouraging him), yuki inched closer to you, his brows furrowed

“you feel that? something isn’t right.” yuki bluntly stated, eyes scanning his surroundings like usual. except he didn’t know what he was looking for, so a frustrated sigh left his lips

“aye, feels as if someone’s running a rig (playing a trick) on us...” you murmured under your breath, careful not to alarm the returning muku with haughtiness ablaze in his eyes and sheepishness from an apologizing but relieved kazunari (it was hard to believe muku used to be shy prior to joining)

“keep a look out. let you know if somethin’s amiss.” yuki peeled away, checking in with muku asking where the closest tavern was. at the mention of alcohol, misumi jumped in, rambling about how he had already talked to a local about all the best spots

you took a moment to take a deep breath in, the scent of palm trees and fruit replacing your usual endless seas. it wasn’t unsettling, just new. your sea legs itched to return to somewhere always changing, always new, but you knew you couldn’t do that to your friends

you straightened your back and walked with the confidence of a true pirate captain, swinging both your arms around kazunari and misumi, peering down at the map with an easy smile

“alright my hearties, where to?”

this gut feeling could wait, you had a few hours to relax before everything turned upside down

of course the captain got the most inconvenient yet boring jobs that could’ve been assigned

(yuki didn’t look sorry as he happily enjoyed your childish huff at being the grocery shopper, knowing how much you hated to interact with people outside of the crew)

due to your very limited people skills, you awkwardly tried to summon your confidence to come back around all the fukusaki shop vendors. when you were with your crew, all eyes were on you and how high your head was held. but, when alone... a captain was nothing without its crew, you supposed

a messily scrawled list by kazunari was in your hand (never ask a doctor to write anything) as you tried to decipher the words, holding it up to the sun to figure out what the hell he wanted

after getting the main idea of what each person wanted within budget, you stood on the outskirts of the town square, desperately trying to decide what was the best way to approach this situation

you couldn’t appear helpless or confused! how were you supposed to haggle in this state of mind?! as you slowly spun around in a circle to view all of the sellers before settling on a rather small, unimpressive stand

maybe that meant cheaper prices! you thought cleverly, walking over with the poise of a seasoned native. with a neutral expression, you reached a wooden display with a certain swagger to your step

however... there was nothing. as you stood in the front of the set-up and realized no one was there, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. what kind of service was this? was there no one actually here to sell anything?

before you could leave, a flash of orange appeared in front of you, purple eyes wide as if surprised they even received a customer. “w-wait!” he called out, nearly falling over his own table. this kid would clearly not make it upon a ship, you thought

for whatever reason, you stopped, looking over your shoulder with an unimpressed expression at the simple boy. he was tall and lean, wearing a bandana around his orange hair and an unbuttoned shirt. it was a casual appearance unfit for a merchant

“what is it? i’ve got places to be and there’s nothing here to be sold.” you stated, a wave of shock passing over his face before solidifying in a stubborn crease in his forehead

“huh? what are you talking about? haven’t you come here to get rid of that?”

when he reached out, you jolted back, a surge of energy visible in your body. you felt that strongly, what the hell did this random merchant do to you?!

“w—calm down! stop moving or i can’t remove the yokai! you’re making this difficult.” he demanded roughly, his proper words clipped from an accent unlike any other on this island. there was a certain... twang, to his vocabulary. as if it didn’t sit right, as if it was on the tip of his tongue

so much for customer service! you didn’t listen, dodging his hand like your life depended on it. as you ducked beneath his arm, you gripped his bicep with a death glare. at your narrowed eyes, the orange-haired boy gulped and stared back with astonishment

clearly, fukusaki natives weren’t this rude

“yokai? what the hell are you blubberin’ about, kid?” you questioned, your patience thin like a century-old rope worn down by salt. he set his lips in a straight line, as if trying to assess if you were serious or not. when you didn’t budge, he yanked his arm back and rubbed the sore spot, giving in

“ghosts. you got more spirits than normal around you, they’ve been there for a long time.”

you were about to retort, but fell silent at the remembrance of yonaguni. had your ancestors been with you all this time? you almost couldn’t believe you’ve been actually haunted by their deaths for this long

“i have no ghosts. do not try to scam me.” you flatly said before turning on your heel, intent on leaving the possibility of ghosts behind before tenma took a hold on your arm this time

“but, they’re trying to tell you—”

before tenma could finish, an irritated and offended voice boomed just down the cobblestone pathway

“you dare lay your hand on our captain?!”

“yuki, wait!” the crew clambered after him, hands always short of his shirt fabric as yuki’s sword made a sickening sound when pulled out of its sheath. the orange-haired boy let go immediately, attempting to make a run for it before coming face to face with misumi, whose previous smile was cold and nonexistent

it was as if the other merchants disappeared, fearing a start of a fight would be terrible for business. tenma was caught in the middle of a 5-person circle, with yuki pointing the tip of his sword at his throat

“state your name and business for grabbing our captain like that!” yuki was adamant on proving his sword was real by putting it closer to the boy’s adam’s apple. he tried not to shake under the pressure, but you noticed how his feet had no shoes and looked ready to run to anywhere but here

“um... t—johnny. it’s johnny, and i simply belong to a family of fukusaki mediums, that’s all.” johnny(?) said, as if trying to convince himself. all of you secretly exchanged a look, trying to decide whether or not to believe this so-called johnny

“you see ghosts?” yuki scoffed, his position already clear on the issue. ever since you two have met, you knew yuki never believed in anything involving the supernatural. after all, so many mysteries were hidden in the ocean, yuki doubted anything could scare him on land

but, you... you’re starting to believe johnny as you notice his eyes waver towards you. maybe not so much you, but whatever was surrounding you

“yes, sir. i can communicate with them as well. ever since i was a young boy, i’ve brought peace to the dead.” your head snapped towards him at that, something inside of you turning

that boy could bring your ancestors peace? could it be too good to be true? as if hearing your thoughts, johnny nodded to reaffirm your beliefs

before anyone else can join in on the questioning, you held your hand up and everyone fell silent, waiting for your next words. you could easily tell yuki to kill this boy and he would... but you won’t

“how much are your services?”

johnny blinked, clearly not used to this question as he mentally calculated whatever in his head. “uh... i usually don’t get paid.”

“if we took you on your ship, how much then?” (you immediately hushed a protesting yuki and wary crew)

“my payment wouldn’t be money.” johnny quickly said, almost shocking himself with how fast that answer came. you raised an eyebrow at that, about to question his terms before muku turned, eyebrows furrowed

“there’s someone coming.” muku whispered in a hush, immediately on guard as everyone shifted to a defensive position. at the first sound of a boot on ground, kazunari’s eyes widened. a telltale sign of the cop’s traditional uniform, which kazunari knew better than most

“go! go! go!” you ordered, everyone taking off running. without thinking, you took a hold of johnny’s hand. he squeezed it without flinching, turning and impressively staying by your side even as you got faster and faster

you were fast, but you despised running with a passion. if you closed your eyes longer than a blink, you could almost smell the smoke and crack of the tree trunks. for some reason, johnny smelt like coconut, and that humored you to a certain extent as your crew ran for their lives from the officers. someone must’ve alerted local authorities nearby...

even with a map, muku was lost to the island’s complex system. despite being quick on his feet, muku’s eyes frantically analyzed the outdated lines and pressed his lips into a straight line out of frustration. you knew you should’ve stepped in, but what could you have done?

“follow me!” johnny whispered hurriedly, turning into a waypoint before stopping and looking back. your crew subconsciously looked towards you as well, as if asking if this fukasaki native was trustworthy

though, it’s not like you had a choice now

you ran with johnny, the rest of your crew following suit. when you reached a dead end, you expected this to be a mistake before johnny nimbly flung himself up the ivy-covered wall, landing with a hard thud as if he hadn’t done so in a long time. ignoring the pain, johnny extended his hand an impressive height away

“grab my hand and we’ll be free!” pirates weren’t one to say no to freedom (or put all their coins in one chest...), so you got down to provide a boost to your crew mates. it wasn’t a time to be noble, so they all took your support without complaining, easily being able to run past johnny

when it was your turn, the sound of polished boots grew increasingly closer, much to your chagrin. you backed up quietly, gulping and trying not to look behind you as you glanced up. both johnny and yuki were standing there, their hands extended as you got a running start

you closed your eyes, breathed in the imaginary smoke, and leaped, feeling the grip of both their hands upon yours as they helped you up. just as you ducked beneath the foliage, you breathed a sigh of relief as the officers ran by without sparing a second look

when you opened your eyes, you noticed johnny was still holding your hand, his fist tight around yours as you could practically feel his heartbeat through leaning on his shoulder

you got up to thank johnny before noticing yuki’s uncharacteristic quietness and the way his eyes looked between you and johnny... as if he was betrayed

you didn’t think more of it despite the sinking feeling in your stomach

it was a night to celebrate! escaping the cops was no easy feat, especially on a foreign island. your crew, who had taken a liking to johnny’s ability to hold his own, invited him to drinks (not that they needed guidance to the safest tavern, of course...)

you nursed your own drink of choice at a rickety table with the crew, watching as they became less like pirates and more like their own ages with a few drinks and good music. yuki didn’t drink, which was something that had always occurred no matter where they went

johnny was flustered under all the attention, or it was the alcohol everyone insisted he could keep down. you stifled a chuckle when kazunari hooked his arm around tenma’s neck and ruffled his hair, the look upon his face priceless

you took a sip before lowering the cup’s rim, noticing yuki’s wary gaze. he met your eye with a frown, as if hesitating on what to say next. once again, how strange

“captain,” at that, you tried not to outwardly wince. it wasn’t common for yuki to be so... formal with you, at least. “do you truly intend on bringing this stranger with us?”

“johnny is no stranger anymore, yuki. he saved our lives, we are indebted to him.” you flatly said, glancing at johnny once more. yuki huffed, clearly disagreeing with your opinion as he rolled his eyes

“we would’ve been just fine without him. plus, he’s a medium! how do you know he’s the real deal, anyways?”

“i just... know.” you tried to elaborate, but it fell on deaf ears. there were some parts of your past you just couldn’t elaborate on, some parts that wouldn’t make sense to a non-yonaguni native

yuki slammed his water on the wooden table, a sound barely distinguishable in the rowdy atmosphere before getting up with a skid of the stool. he silently left, no doubt heading back to the docks where the stars shined the brightest and moon made things shrouded in dark more visible

you got up and followed without speaking another word. the crew knew disagreements between you & yuki were far and few, so there was no time to ask silly questions

when you reached the outside, the salt in the air and muffled sound of everyone having fun made you stop. behind you, you noticed the door didn’t slam completely as a quick-footed pair of feet made their way besides you

“are... you okay?” johnny asked, his hands in his linen pockets as you exhaled, nodding as you leaned onto the wall. johnny stiffly stood by the door, as if guarding it

“yeah, yeah. i am... just a little tussle, that’s all.” you sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself, but neither of you pointed it out. a few moments of awkward silence passed, before johnny cleared his throat

“okay, i didn’t hear nothin’. just... heard the spirits around you get loud.”

there he went again about the ghosts and spirits! you subconsciously patted your hair down flat, turning to look at johnny with yuki-like skepticism in your narrowed eyes

“how can you see there are ghosts on me? how do i know you’re not pullin’ my leg?” you suspiciously questioned, watching as johnny bristled under the attention. it seemed as if the island natives didn’t question his credibility as a medium

“you know i’m right. you have tens, maybe more, spirits attached to you. i can help you take them away, for a price, of course.”

“which is?”

“i want to find an island lost to me long ago.”

if you blinked, you could’ve sworn you were talking to a past-version of yourself. why did that request seem so familiar?

“do you know its name?”

“nay... my family refuses to tell me anything about where i’m from. all i know is the navy is the reason i lost my parents.”

“mine too.” you admitted with a breath and the conversation paused, you two sharing an understanding expression of sympathy but unshakable faith. you two understood each other despite knowing one another for a few hours

“then, is it settled?” johnny held out his hand, which you took with a firm grip. his palms were soft for an islander, funny enough. he must’ve thought differently since this was one of the few times you took off your leather gloves

“as long as you bring peace to my ancestors, you’re comin’ with me.”

when the hours became late and you ultimately decided everyone passed their limit a long time ago, you and johnny led them all to their barracks with laughs and humor in the air

when you reached the docks, yuki was barely noticeable in the night as he stood upon the mast of the ship, his hair waving in the wind like a flag

he didn’t look at you, not once, so you didn’t climb up. how could you when johnny was holding your hand with his eyes flickering back to you, or whatever was around you?

you introduced johnny to his new quarters and left him to be, feeling free for once in your life that night

morning came with the unfurling of your sails and your position in the crow’s nest. the sky was blue and cloudless, just like everyone predicted as the sea welcomed your crew into its arms

“ahoy, my hearties! off we go to find our next treasure!” you commanded joyously, the crew hurrah-ing in return at your enthusiasm. like most pirates did, your crew’s goal when off-land was to find a ship to rob and make off with their goods

you turned to the side, about to say something before realizing yuki wasn’t next to you. he must’ve slept in, that’s all. you didn’t question it even if he was always on time the years you knew him

disguising your expression of disappointment, you left your crew to their own means, sliding down the mast as per usual. when you landed, you noticed johnny standing awkwardly to the side as everyone was doing their own job

“hey, johnny! what are you muckin’ around for?” you questioned lightheartedly, slamming your freshly-shined boots (after an unfortunate drunk throw-up incident) upon the oak boards. johnny flinched from the sound, unaccustomed to the constantly-busy atmosphere of a large ship

“do you... need any help? i kinda, feel guilty just lazing about in my quarters.” johnny confessed, a red flush against his face as he rubbed the back of his permanently-sunburned neck. you were taken back for a moment, not used to being offered help

“um... you seem to know how to throw a person off their rhythm! i have nothing on mind as of now, hmmm....” after much consideration, you snapped your fingers with a start. “perhaps consider shadowing me for today! get the feel of a captain’s life—”

“no need, captain. i will take him off your hands for you.”

you turned to see yuki besides you, his feet silent and eyes attentive as always. you sensed the tension still imbedded between you two, gulping as you tugged at the collar of your shirt. for some reason, you immediately felt disappointed at the missing opportunity of tenma being with you

why were you feeling this way?! there was no reason to think like that as a busy, efficient pirate captain!

“thank you, yuki. return him in one piece, alright?” you joked, turning away to review what needed to be done that day. as you left, you didn’t notice yuki place a cold grip on johnny’s shoulder with an uncharacteristically eerie stoic pose

johnny looked after you, wondering what was behind that shroud of spirits who wanted nothing more than to see you freed of them

“you’re quite lucky the captain has taken quite a liking to you, johnny, was it?”

yuki & johnny found themselves ending the ship’s tour in the underground of the main deck, located along the cannons placed in their corresponding holes. the smell of gunpowder and flint was nearly suffocating, but yuki moved with ease and seemed to revel in johnny’s tight expression

“y-yes... the captain is very kind and charitable to take me on board.” johnny managed to get out without coughing, his eyes inspecting the materials and wondered how loud it truly was during battle

“you agreed to come so soon. you have no family of your own?” yuki asked innocently, mindlessly fixing the placements of the bombs behind the barrels. johnny shook his head, explaining it wasn’t an emotional attachment he had to fukusaki

“how... suspiciously fortunate.” yuki deadpanned, suddenly whipping around with a blank stare. it caught johnny off guard, who nearly stumbled back into a cannon. yuki wasn’t armed, but his tense demeanor and personality change was jarring

“listen, kid, i’ve got no clue who you are, but you have no reason to be upon this ship.” with every word, yuki seemed to come closer until his pointer finger pushed in the center of johnny’s chest

“you may have fooled everyone else, but our captain has always been too naive. i see right through you, johnny. who are you, really?”

johnny shuddered, backed against the wall and desperately holding onto anything that can keep his wobbly legs up. he didn’t know if it was the rocky seas or yuki’s simmering anger, but he felt like he was staring straight into one of those cannons

“i’m johnny, an island medium who sees ghosts on your captain. it is my duty to let them go, that’s all.”

a moment passed, before yuki took a few steps back. before johnny could react, he found the tip of a real sword pointed at his neck once again

“you’re lying, i know it. do not make me ask you again, who are you?”

johnny tried to remain placid in the face of a weapon, but he gritted his teeth and couldn’t help himself

“why the hell does it matter to you? are you in love with your captain or something?!”

silence, then yuki lowered his sword. he sheathed it back, before turning and leaving without another word. johnny let out a deep breath, sinking to the floor as he closed his eyes

if johnny listened hard enough, he could hear your spirits try to communicate with him. but, their voices were garbled and unlike anything he’s heard before. who were you and why was he here?

the first time you & johnny met in terms of spirits was two weeks after a pattern of sleepless nights

he already found you teetering close to the edge, your hands folded as you searched for something, or someone, past the blackened seas

it was as if some savage sea monster had spilt its ink-like blood into the waters, the once blue surface that reflected lucky skies now murky and as mysterious as the dark side of the moon

with your usual guarded glint now gone, you still seemed just as capable to be the one responsible for such dark seas

“good evening.” johnny mumbled lowly, placing the lantern besides his feet as he made his way next to you. you hummed, not particularly fazed by his sudden appearance despite not paying attention. it’s as if you had eyes in the back of your head, like a sea monster

“i suppose fukusaki isn’t used to the rocking of wooden ships?” you retorted, to which johnny sharply exhaled through his nose, a sign of amusement at your observation

“nay, but... i haven’t been able to properly maintain my sleep schedule ever since boarding. your spirits... are rather loud for ghosts.”

you full-on laughed at this, disturbing the intimate atmosphere between you two. johnny couldn’t help but smile at your worn-down exterior. you presented yourself like you were made of a glass bottle, but you were as intricate as a carved artisan ship

“try living with them your whole life, boy, then you can start complaining about their volume.” you jested lightheartedly, offering a soft smile at the newest recruit. as you leaned back onto the railing of the ship, you watched the constant surface of the waves, as if you could anchor your endless thoughts to davey jone’s locker

johnny mimicked your position, his elbow knocking into yours. his hands were much too soft for a seasoned sailor, you noticed this in the dim lantern light. for a moment, you let your impulses take over and you wondered how they felt against yours

“pardon my words, but when will you let me speak to them? i can never find you through the day...” johnny began to ask, but trailed off when your salted eyes and weariness became apparent in the way you exhaled quietly

“it is not your fault but mine, johnny. this is my ship and i am the captain, that’s all. i cannot allow myself to suddenly become weak in case i am needed.” you spoke like a true hero, well, as much of a hero a pirate could be

johnny didn’t exactly understand, considering he just got up and left his entire life on a whim of a promise to find out who he was. but, he nodded anyways, watching blurred movements of entities swirl around your head like troubled smoke

“what about now? will you let me—?” when johnny reached out, you immediately stepped back, your lips pressed in a straight line as if restraining your true reaction

“you look for every reason to touch me, don’t you?” you tried to force it out like it was nothing, but it was clear how your boots twisted like they were prepared to run away

when was the last time someone physically comforted you in any sense? or... comforted you at all?

“captain...” johnny mumbled, eyes wide with pity and you couldn’t stand it. he called you captain, but he didn’t revere you like a typical person would. he didn’t flinch at your sword or head held high, it was unnerving

“what is the purpose of having a crew if they cannot help you through this?”

the wind wailing against your ears reminded you of how little time there was in a day, and how the sun would rise soon and this cycle of pretending everything was okay would begin again

it was maddening, to live the same day again and again with no change

johnny perhaps was someone you looked forward to, a diversion from the expected

“do you consider yourself apart of my crew, then?” when johnny took a moment to think, you wondered what he was remembering. was it the night where misumi pretended to fall over board to scare everyone or was it when kazunari didn’t react to seeing a skeleton that time? was it when muku could predict every type of weather for the next day without fail or when yuki finally cracked at a joke after a hour of pretending nothing was funny?

or, was it when you two shared glances across the deck, clinked your glasses a little too long, or when your hands ghosted over another when pulling lines?

“yes, your crew is my own as well. and like them, i wish to help you, if you’d let me.”

you always found yourself unsure around johnny, unaware of how to respond in a way worthy of your pirate captain title. as you hesitated, johnny looked you in the eyes and his eyes reminded you of storm clouds thundering in the distance

“why else would you take me on the ‘sky’? if you didn’t want help?”

perhaps those were words you would reveal later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share the real answer. it was a gut feeling that your world would be turned upside down, and you were right when you felt your throat dry at johnny’s hopeful gaze

johnny continued on, straightening his usual bent posture and his voice carried, like he was one with nature. as if they supported him unconditionally

“i know this is your own battle to win and this is your ship and you are my—our captain, but please... let’s make a deal.”

you stood, intrigued, as you witnessed a side of johnny never seen before. once meek, once easily intimidated, now talked to you like an equal

“let’s promise to say things we both really feel. be honest with me, do you want me to help? to remove the spirits and let them move on?” when you nodded, johnny let out a breath of relief and moved closer, gathering your hands in his. when you didn’t pull away and only tensed, he spoke as if he was sure things would change

“i can help you, i can make them go away. you bring me back to my home, i let your spirits go home. deal?”

“is that how you truly feel?”

“and more.” johnny’s eyes glanced down, and you felt your heart stutter as if the surface rocked

“i feel the same way. i wish to help you.”

that night, you remembered for the first time in a long time, a captain was nothing without its crew

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 9

Day 9 - When you write something on your own skin it appears on your soulmate’s skin as well. (Pirates and Sirens AU)

Pairing(s): Romantic Dukeceit, Background Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: Swearing, murder mention, Remus being Remus, semi-detailed leg  and fin injury

–

Those who ran afoul of The Witch’s Serpent rarely lived to tell the tale. Many a foolish young sea-farer - far too inexperienced and overly cocky - had met their end at the hands of the galleon’s captain long before they could even hope to make their mark on the open seas. 

Captain Remus Gaspar was an impulsive, enigma of a man; capable of great feats of bravery and reckless daring do, alongside acts of cold blooded murder and remorseless torture inflicted upon those who crossed him. The sea choked on the bodies of his victims while he and his crew sipped the finest stolen wines with nary a hiccup. The naval officers of the mainland cowered in fear while Remus decimated their trade routes and sent their men to the depths to keep the fish company. In fact, only one man had faced the Captain and lived to see another day, but kept coming back for more. 

Commodore Logan Callows.

Remus would have admired him - in all senses - if not for his fanatic loyalty to the crown and it’s laws. Make no mistake, Remus very much wanted Logan’s head for a bow ornament with every fibre of his mortal being, but outside factors forbade Remus from fatally wounding the man. Namely, Logan’s first mate and closest friend was his brother-in-law, Virgil Giordano. Why did Roman’s soulmate have to be a man who could rival any opponent in a knife fight, despite being the sort to panic over the smallest change in weather conditions? Remus had no goddamn idea what fate was playing at, but he knew for certain that killing Logan would result in having to run from Virgil’s swift and immediate crusade for revenge. And if there’s one thing Remus Gaspar refused to do, it wold be spending his life in hiding.

Remus loved his brother dearly but all the familial loyalty in the world wouldn’t save him from Virgil’s wrath. He’d learned that much from his last encounter with Logan’s ship, The Inquisitor. Too many cocky remarks and attempts to stall while his men pillaged the lower decks of the ship in secret had earned him a close encounter with the business end of Virgil’s dagger. Naturally, the Captain had made things worse by uttering a rather salacious remark for which he was gifted a shiny new slash mark along his cheek.

“As a warning.”, his brother in law had hissed.

When forced to retreat, Remus had lamented the size of their haul at first. Not nearly enough sugar and spices as they’d been hoping for, but a small crate of flintlock pistols ripe for sale more than made up for the loss once they’d been discovered among the spoils. 

Thus we come to the present moment; Captain Remus, sat upon the docks with a bottle of expensive rum, staring out into the ocean blue. His men had been more than happy to give the Captain his space while they spent their time merrily drinking in the local tavern. Once he was sure he was alone, Remus removed his black leather bracer and rolled his white sleeve to stare at the message written upon it. The Captain had seen many an alphabet in his day - either scrawled upon the foreign exports stolen from trading vessels, or within his memories of home, being tutored alongside his twin as children - but Remus had never laid eyes upon the letters that adorned his skin in a shimmering golden cursive.

Naturally, ever since he’d first been written to, Remus had made an effort to search for the script, but the only ‘lead’ he had been given was an old woman selling wares a couple of ports prior who had raved on and on, claiming it to be the language of the sirens. He’d scoffed at the idea and decided it likely wasn’t worth trying to work out in the first place.

Remus had never been one to buy into this whole soulmates arrangement. Even the day Roman had shown him the violet cursive that had appeared like magic, Remus had rolled his eyes and sworn off taking such a thing seriously. After all, acknowledging that kind of thing brought about some rather unpleasant thoughts he would rather not think about. The fierce Captain liked to play remorseless, but in truth, Remus simply knew that life at sea demanded blood, and it was up to him whether it’d be the blood of his enemies, or his crew and himself. But that didn't stop his mind wandering into territories he wished it would stay out of.  How many men lay on the sandy shores of the depths with messages from soulmates unaware of their beloved’s fate? Did severing the connection hurt? Would fate allow those whom he’d unknowingly widowed to love again? Or had he doomed them to a life alone with no one to share such a connection with ever again?

… More rum would be needed it seemed. 

A clattering from the nearby rock shoal drew Remus out from his own mind with a couple of curses leaving the Captain as he knocked over the rum bottle and watched a good portion of it pour away before he could right it again. 

“Son of a bitch!”, he hissed, corking it and casting a glare towards the rockpool where the clattering had come from. Whoever had just cost him a good amount of rum was in for the brawl of their life. Remus threw on his coat and cursed his inebriated steps over the craggy rock face, swearing once again as he nearly rolled his ankle when his boot sunk into an unseen rockpool. He wrenched his leg free and crested the large flat rock in his way. 

The second his eyes could focus, Remus made a mental note to find that old woman on their round trip and apologise. 

Sprawled on it’s side nestled in the sand was an honest to god siren. The Captain was mesmerised by the creature; it’s long golden hair flowed over it’s scaled shoulders and torso, complimented by it’s black and yellow streaked fin-like ears that fluttered angrily each time it hissed. It wasn’t hard to work out why it was so angry. The creature’s left leg fin had been hooked in a rather nasty mess of fishing line and barbed hooks. The Captain had seen the technique used before to ensure a plentiful haul, who knew it could catch such a creature of legend so easily?

Perhaps Remus was succumbing to the creature’s charms, or maybe he was just too drunk already to think things through, but he found himself whistling to the creature to catch it’s attention. The way the creature’s panicked, beautiful eyes met his own momentarily knocked the wind from his chest as he wheezed out, “Need help?”

 It let out a strangled sound and scrambled backwards, only to let out a cry of pain as it’s injured leg dragged along the sand. The Captain dropped down from his rock perch and made his way over,

“Woah there! Unless you want that fin ripped out you should lemme unhook you-”

Despite the excruciating pain it must’ve been in, it still managed to hiss dangerously at Remus in a voice that felt like a million tiny hands groping around in his brain with every syllable,

“Stay back!”

Remus’ halted momentarily, the voice in his head warning him, “Come any closer and I won’t hesitate to eat you alive!”

In spite of any semblance of common sense, Remus impulsively shot a cocky grin the creature’s way, “Kinky!”

The siren wasn’t amused. 

It lunged forward to swipe at Remus, but the Captain caught it’s arm, making sure his grasp wasn’t painful, but firm.

“Watch it, you’re gonna take someone’s eye out! Or maybe these beauties will just gouge a couple chunks outta my face-” 

Remus’ rambling was cut short as he saw the siren’s expression shift from a ferocious snarl to one of immediate fear.

“Please don’t kill me-”, it murmured quietly, slapping it’s free hand over its mouth. It tried to change back to a more aggressive persona but Remus refused to be intimidated,

“The last thing I wanna do is hurt you. Now are you gonna be a good lil fishy and let me unhook you?” 

The siren scanned his face with those enchanting eyes once again, scrutinising every inch of Remus before it huffed and turned away from his gaze. The Captain took it as a sign of an indignant ‘do whatever you want’ and sat on the sand next to the siren, already beginning to carefully remove the hooks as best he could. Each wince the creature gave was met with an apology until Remus got the hang of it. 

“.....What’s your name?”, Remus mused to the surprised siren, “Might as well get to know each other, right?”

The creature mumbled something Remus couldn’t understand under it’s breath but relented reluctantly, “My name is Janus. At least, that's how you humans would pronounce it.” 

“It’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Remus.”, the Captain mumbled, too hyper focused on removing the hooks to see the way Janus’ cheeks flushed a dark ochre colour. Once the last hook had come loose, both of them let out a shared sigh of relief; Remus admired his job well done but grew concerned as Janus went to stand up. “Hey, you’re going to hurt yourself doing that.”, he warned, to which Janus scoffed, attempting to hide his emotions once more.

“I’ll be fine, Remus, I’ll heal quickly-”

“The salt water’s gonna sting like a bitch.”, Remus cut in.

Noting the wince Janus gave in response, he continued, “At least let me take you to my ship so I can bandage you up proper-“ 

“No!”, Janus declined fiercely, though he softened right after, letting Remus know it was likely a reflexive reaction, “I apologise. I… I’m rather wary of that kind of thing. Please understand.”

Remus sighed and stood up, taking off his coat to place it around Janus’ shoulders. The siren stiffened, though curiosity got the better of him and he softly touched the warm material. Janus inhaled and immediately was hit with the smell of the garment; a mix of body odour, dried blood, sea salt, and countless food-like smells. Not to mention the reek of old alcohol.

“In the name of Uranus, do you never clean this ornate rag!?”

Remus cackled, taking Janus’ hand to lead him to The Witch’s Serpent, noting that his fingers were webbed. Adorable. 

“Nope! Not since I hauled it off the guy I ran through to get it!”

Janus’ nose crinkled at that yet the siren kept following Remus towards his ship. With a proper glance in the light of the port, Janus piped up, “Oh. That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“What is?”, Remus questioned, making sure no one was aboard yet so he could lift a flustered Janus on deck despite the embarrassed glare he received from the siren.

“I’ve been following your ship for months.”, Janus elaborated, trying to regain his footing on the decks, “With the scraps and bodies you leave behind in your wake, I rarely have to bother hunting for new prey.”

Ah. Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that yet, simply shrugging, “Good to know you’ve been freeloading this whole time.”. 

Once more taking the hand of the siren, Remus led him towards the Captain’s Quarters; the room was just as gilded and ornate as the coat keeping Janus warm, with various trinkets, maps, paintings, and oddities given their own place within the room. Taking the opportunity to snoop around while Remus was rooting around in his desk drawer for bandages, Janus allowed his eyes to lead him on a journey around the room. A telescope, a star map, family photos, animal bones, even a goblet made from a man’s skull connected atop a metal stem, Janus had never seen so many interesting and macabre items. His interest peaked when his gaze landed on a beautiful topaz necklace resting on a book of fairytales.

Janus’ fingers traced the jewellery adoringly. It was rare for such trinkets to end up on the seafloor unless a storm had sent an unfortunate vessel to the depths. Not that Janus was ever lucky enough to get at the spoils; the boisterous captain may be sweet on him, for who knows what reason, but his own kind were never too fond of Janus’ standoffish nature and biting remarks. Of course, Janus didn’t care if he was lonely. He didn’t. Not at all. “You can have it if you want.”

Remus’ voice startled the siren who nearly tripped over the end of the Captain’s large coat. He chuckled and slowly lifted the necklace off the book to carefully let it loop over Janus’ neck.

“It suits you. Really brings out the scales.”, he complimented. Without giving Janus a second to process the act of kindness, Remus led him towards a wooden armchair in front of his desk. He guided Janus to sit down in the chair while Remus sat on the desk itself. To his side was a roll of bandages and a cloth, ‘for the blood trail’ he’d explained, gesturing to the droplets patterning their route. Janus watched the captain remove his bracers and sink to the floor to tend to his wounds. By the gentle way the Captain held and bandaged him, Janus assumed the man had sobered enough for the siren to pose the question,

“Why?”

Remus frowned, looking up to lock eyes with the siren, “Why what?”

“Why’re you...”, being so kind? Treating me so sweetly? Not trying to kill me to sell my skin? “.... treating me like this? You realise I threatened to eat you earlier, right?”

The Captain shrugged, his expression as blank as before, “Yeah. But you didn’t. And you got all fucked up in some moron’s fishing line, so it wasn’t like you posed much of a threat-”

“Exactly.”, Janus interrupted in frustrated confusion in his tone, “My voice is out of practice, if you wanted to, you could’ve slaughtered me for my skin. Any human would be a fool not to. But here you are, treating me like I’m worth more to you alive than dead. Adorning me in such… expensive trinkets.”

Remus’ brow furrowed at that. “For someone who threatened to eat me earlier, I figured you’d practice a little more self preservation.”

The siren scoffed, “I didn’t say I wanted to be slaughtered, I’m merely trying to work out why you wouldn’t take such a chance. Doesn’t your species enjoy monetary gain? Like I said, any human would be a fool to miss such an opportunity- oW!”

Janus fixed Remus a glare as the Captain flicked the abused tip of his leg fin, “First off, yeah, I like money but that's not what I do this shit for. Secondly, most humans think your kind aren’t even real. If I waltzed into town claiming I had siren skin to sell, I’d be run outta town as a conman. Besides, if I’m nice to you, I’ll have an ally in the water, and that's far more valuable to me.”

As he wrapped up the calf area for good, Remus grinned up at the siren, “You’re also really handsome, so that helps.”

Janus’ face crinkled in a flustered surprise, “Remus, I’m part fish-”

“You’re still handsome as fuck.”

“I’m not even using my human glamour-”

“And? You’re hot.”

“I’m literally covered in fish scales-!”

“Still hot!”

Janus couldn’t think of another rebuttal, so Remus counted it as a win for him. He rolled his sleeves to tackle the rest of the injuries when he caught Janus’ eyes tracing the fresh scar on his cheek.

“Wondering how I got this scar?”

“I may be interested.” came the coy reply.

Remus smirked, “You could call it a gift from my brother-in-law. I got a little too up close and personal with his best friend and found up with this beauty. It’s a shame, said bestie’s pretty fun but he’s the biggest pain in my ass since this one time I ate some bad eels-”

“That’s charming,”, Janus interrupted in disgust, “Why don’t you simply dispatch this ‘bestie’ and be done with him?”

“Can’t. If I did that, Virge-”

“Who?”

“My brother-in-law.”

“Ah. Continue.”

“Virge would hunt me down to the ends of the Earth and the last thing I wanna do is trade away my freedom to do whatever the fuck I want.”, he averted his gaze to Janus’ leg and kept bandaging it; whoever had put that line into the ocean had no idea the damage it’d caused to such a beautiful creature. “Besides, if I hurt Virge like that, my brother Roman would be miserable. Even if he probably hates me, some dumb bitch part of me really doesn’t want him to feel like shit just ‘cause I went and upset his soulmate.”

Janus scoffed quietly. It lacked the venom he no doubt intended it to have but the disdain was enough to draw the Captain’s attention. “You humans are far too sentimental. My kind have no qualms treating even close family like scum if we so desire. Even our soulmates it would seem..”

Remus caught the darting glance Janus sent towards his scaled wrist, noting the sigh he suppressed. “.... They’re a damn fool to not want you.”, the Captain murmured thoughtfully as he finally finished the upper shin bandaging. He wiped his brow with the heel of his palm but stopped as he felt smoothe fingers wrap around his wrist. His confusion was answered as the siren bore holes into the sliver of writing on his arm with those mesmerising eyes.

“You’re not the only one having soulmate trouble,”, Remus began answering, “Never really cared much for this shit, but now I got a message, I can’t make heads or tails of it-”

“Help me. I need you.”

Remus locked eyes with Janus, the siren’s own eyes wide with realisation and looking ready to bubble with tears, “That's what it says. It’s in Aquan. I wrote that to my soulmate while I was feeling…. rather vulnerable.”

Unsure of how to react to this turn of events, Remus stood and sat on his desk once more. He was too stunned to reply at first. A million questions swelled and crashed upon the shores of his brain, all fighting to be asked, but Janus beat him to the punch.

“Why did you never write back?”, the hurt in his voice stabbed at the Captain’s heart, “I mean, even if you couldn’t understand me, why didn’t you just...”

Remus wasn’t sure himself. No, that was a lie. He simply never fathomed that the message had been a cry for help. 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”, he began, looking to Janus - no, his soulmate, and asking in return, “What happened?”

Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, “.... It was a moment of weakness but….. My family had cast me out. Not that it was all too surprising, nor could I stand most of them anyway, but… being left alone to wander by yourself is a rather terrifying thought no matter the situation. I’d reached my breaking point. I felt like I’d been abandoned by my kin entirely. I thought perhaps my soulmate would be there for me. I never imagined you were human.”

“Makes sense. I’m sorry your family sucks ass.”. Eloquent as always. But hey, the snicker that got from the siren was worth it in Remus’ eyes. “And I’m sorry I didn’t write back. But I guess it’s good we finally crossed paths.”

Remus gestured for Janus to join him on the desk, to which the siren accepted the offer, being careful not to catch the coat he was still adorned in on anything on the way up. With his soulmate seated by his side, Remus wrapped an arm around the siren and held him close. Janus gave a lop-sided, fond smile, leaning into the act of comfort and gently resting a hand on Remus’ chest.

“What now then, my Captain?”, Janus’ voice was as soft and sweet as a ripe peach. Remus knew it’d require a lot of explanation where his crew was concerned, but he wasn’t about to let Janus slip away from him. He pressed a kiss to the siren’s temple, relishing the blush that spread over Janus’ cheeks. With a grin, Remus cackled,

“Simple, we make good on this alone time we’ve got ‘til my crew get back!”

--

Sorry this one’s so late TTvTT I miight need some time to finish days 10 and up, but I’ll get things written asap. @tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom 

[conventionally-average]

The Plight of a Hero (BNHA fanfic)

CHAPTER 4: DOUBTS

Deku stared at the zombie’s Master in the morbid room. The light emanating from the screen provided little comfort to him and with every minute that passed, his blood ran a bit colder.

“I-I need to talk to you again. I’m here to make another…”

Deku took a deep breath, as he went against his previous resolve to bring the words out of his mouth. “I’m here to make another deal.”

“I assumed as much. You want to be able to save -”

“Don’t. Don’t act like you know everything.”

“Am I wrong?”

Silence filled the air as Deku refused to speak.

“You know the price will be heavy.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

“Even kill?”

Deku stiffened at his question. He knew that even if he talked big, killing was the one thing that he couldn’t do... not to others at least. But if he was pushed to it… if that was what it took... Deku nodded, not trusting his voice. Master chuckled at his sudden change in posture, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to do it. Not without the proper training at least. But even still he continued.

“You are aware of the fact that there are infinite timelines?”

“Yes.”

“And that you’d have to be immortal to save even a fraction of them.”

“Yes.”

“That means I’ll have to give you two very powerful quirks-”

“I don’t want any quirks.”

“...I see. How do you plan to execute your plan then?”

“In my world, we were able to create a portal with the help of you and two other girls, La Brava and Hatsumi Mei. If we can reach them, it would be possible to create an upgraded version of what I went through.”

“And your immortality? How do you plan to go through multiple universes without ageing?”

“I’ll ask the girls to create an extension to the device so that I’m aware of which universe requires me to intervene.”

“Bright mind Deku. Well, considering that the device would be a great addition to us, I’ll keep the deal short: I want your quirk in exchange for immortality-”

“I don’t want-”

“Just because the quirk lets you live forever, doesn’t mean you’re not prone to fatal injuries. When you’ve completed your mission, and our end of the deal, you can either take your own life or come to me.”

He didn’t want a quirk. It was because of quirks that he made these deals with the devil. Yet Deku shut his mouth.

“And I want you to protect Shigaraki in every timeline, helping him bring the Age of the Villains.”

Deku looked at Master with horrified eyes. He could easily give up his quirk, he had trained to fight quirkless after all. But serving Shigaraki? After everything, he had done? His loyalty didn’t mean protection, but now he had to make that decision.

“When we grow up, do you think we’ll become heroes like All Might?!”

“Pinky promise!”

“We’ll be number one heroes together!”

“The Wonder Duo!’

“Quirkless Deku.”

“Pray for a quirk-”

“Swan Dive off the roof-”

“I couldn’t let you die.”

Gritting his teeth, Deku made a painful choice. He knelt to one knee and kept his head bowed down, his tears threatening to flow out of his eyes.

“I accept your conditions, Master.”

Master grinned in satisfaction, as he held out his glowing red arm through the screen. Deku took off his left glove and shook it with his, biting his tongue to not scream at the searing pain. He pulled away, to see a ‘2’ branded on his palm. The deal was done, and his fate was sealed.

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

The school bell screamed as a chill ran down Midoriya’s spine. He looked back only to see Mineta packing up his books in his bags. Unable to pinpoint the source of his discomfort, he scratched the back of his neck as he too began packing his books to go back to his dorm.

Over the days, Midoriya was able to bring back a sense of normalcy into his life. It was aided by his friends, who made sure to look out and reassure him whenever he felt down. Midoriya was grateful for Momo and Mei especially, who created a long-term, durable anklet with a tracker implanted within that could withstand the harshest of situations. It put his mind at ease, and he was finally able to relax.

Until now.

He found himself unable to go back to his dorm, afraid of what it held for him. So he stays in the kitchen, cooking a varied number of dishes with whatever food they have left.

“What’s wrong Midoriya-kun?” a concerned voice calls out to him. Midoriya turns around in shock to meet Asui, who was looking over him.

“I’m fine” Midoriya responds, with a tight smile gracing his lips. He’s not fine. He was, but not anymore. How can he not be fine without a reason? It makes no sense. How could he even begin to describe how he feels? It’s almost childish how he swings from one emotional state to another. I mean, it’s truly pathetic-

Asui grabs Midoriya's hands and gently places them on hers. “Stop. Breathe with me.” Midoriya doesn’t realize he had been holding his breath until Asui says that. He does what she says, relaxing him. “Thank you,” Midoriya states, and he goes back to cooking. Asui doesn’t leave however. She takes a place next to Midoriya and starts cutting the vegetables he had set out.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m here.” And with that Midoriya breaks, his eyes unable to hold the tears that came from his eyes. Asui gently rubs her hand against his back in reassurance and then proceeds to cut the vegetables. Midoriya appreciated that he wasn’t prodded or babied after his break down. A pleasant silence ensued until the rest came down to eat.

“Woah Midoriya-kun! That’s a lot of food-Oh, hey Tsu-chan! Did you guys make this for all of us?” Kaminari exclaimed as he drooled at the sight of the feast. Midoriya chuckled at his reaction, glad that at least one person was happier and more carefree than he was.

“Of course.” Lie. “Dig in! I may have gone a bit overboard so there���s plenty to go around!”

Kaminari doesn’t wait another second as he grabs a plate and starts piling on more food than Midoriya thought a person could consume. Just as Kaminari was about to take some cold soba, a hand came between him and the soba. “Kaminari-kun, finish what’s on your plate and then come,” Todoroki says curtly, staring icily at Kaminari. Kaminari backs away to the couch, giggling at Todoroki’s reaction. Mina and Kirishma join in as they sling their hands-on Todoroki’s shoulder, making Todoroki blush even more in embarrassment.

Soon, a line was created; more students came in, talked, had seconds until eventually, everyone was full and tired.

“Just so you know, Midoriya and I will NOT be cleaning up.” Just as Midoriya is about to protest, Asui glares at him sternly. He smiles, raising his hands in defeat. “So fight between yourself on who’s doing what.” Silence. From behind, a small hand shoots up and yells “NOT IT!” The group bursts into life, as they argue with each other about who does what, never getting malicious in any way.

Midoriya smiles at this scene. He could only wish for his future to be as lively as it is now. He sighs, sinking into the couch, drowsiness finally catching up to him.

A/N: I've added this story on Ao3 as well! I'm going to post there first so that I can get feedback on my rough drafts. As always, the story is also on Wattpad.

[chironshorseass]

magnificently cursed

Annabeth kisses Percy Jackson at the winter solstice; because of this, things may turn out for the better—or is it the other way around? The only thing she knows for certain is that she has a special loathing for fatal flaws and prophecies.

or,

A canon divergent au in which many things happen at once.

read on ao3

Dum spiro, spero

(While I breathe, I hope.)

That was one of the first Latin phrases Chiron had taught her, all those years ago. It was what she hung on to when life carried on by a thread.

And when she’d been left, alone, to die, that was what she remembered. And also rocks, and blood, piling up on her. She’d begun to think that that was the only way of life. Rocks and blood.

Or maybe it wasn’t blood, maybe her vision had been drowned in scarlet. And maybe those weren’t rocks.

No, it was a fact that those weren’t rocks.

In her feeble brain, she knew. This was the sky.

This was the world.

But she couldn’t give up, because then everything would come crashing down. She’d die anyway, but the rest of humanity, Luke...they still had a chance.

Percy still had a chance.

But it was a ravenous pain, holding the world. One that gathered on her shoulders like burning steel and flowed through the rest of her body in a river of magma.

Dum spiro, spero.

While I breathe, I hope.

But she could barely breathe.

The weight of the world had been shoved onto her shoulders, all for betrayal. She was dimly aware of Luke (a friend or foe) and Atlas (a foe) , and someone else, standing there, watching. She wasn’t sure. It was hard to see anything when her mind delayed any comings and goings for just a few seconds.

Sweat had meddled in her eyes. She couldn’t clear it away.

Ringing echoed in her ears. She couldn’t scream for it to stop.

But every cell in her body screamed, and it wouldn’t stop. Everything screeched and cried and hollered, but she was sure that she made no sound.

All she wanted was for someone to take this agony, this torture, away from her. To burn it just like it was burning her.

More rocks fell.

Blurs from the outside of her hellish sphere discussed things.

Laughter.

Crying.

Ichor.

Ichor.

It trailed from someone’s legs like fresh honey. An immortal. She couldn’t hold her chin up to see who it was, however.

But that person made themselves known.

Artemis. She’d kneeled down next to Annabeth. Her face was streaked with gold. More ichor. Then she turned to say something, maybe to Luke. The goddess seemed distressed, angered.

Luke. Traitor. Friend.

Traitor.

A clang followed, and she had just enough energy to lift her eyes and see the chains that now littered Artemis’ feet. She’d somehow been trapped, like her, and—

More pressing weight from the sky. More backstabbing pain.

I am going to die.

And if she was going to die, she wouldn’t be able to breathe, and if she wasn’t going to breathe, she wouldn’t hope.

Better to die than hope, then.

Artemis’ flashing eyes appeared from the depths of her darkened vision.

Annabeth understood too late what was about to happen.

Chains free. Distressed goddess. Ichor. Laughter.

This was a trick played beautifully by Atlas—and Luke. They wanted to see Artemis trapped, just like her. They also wanted Annabeth free.

She let out a groan, a sound of protest. It was no use.

Artemis had already taken her place, holding what had nearly toppled over. Annabeth’s shoulders had never felt so light.

The last thing she saw was Percy’s face. His dimpled smile and his eyes the color of the sea on a clear day and his curly hair.

“Sleep tight, Annabeth,” he said.

Then he faded away, and she saw nothing at all.

While I breathe, I hope.

.

Percy had rescued her before. It went both ways, really, but this felt familiar. Riding some kind of horse—this time on Blackjack—with him tucked behind her, flying to safety. Well, she wasn’t sure if meeting the gods at the winter solstice could count as “safety,” but it was close enough.

He came for me.

Thalia flew closeby, on a pegasus with Grover. She remembered the knowing smile the daughter of Zeus had given her, right after Grover had crushed her into a hug.

“He didn’t come for Artemis,” she’d said, talking about Percy. It was hard not to blush.

Afterwards, They’d taken to the sky, dark comets streaking through the stars, through Zoë.

The guilt of what had happened would come to grasp her with greedy fingers, but it was smothered by Percy’s arms around her. Just like in Siren Bay. Just like after leaving Polyphemus’ island, injured and barely conscious.

And as New York’s city lights replaced the stars in the sky, that feeling of warmth also overcame the dread of what was to come.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

The wind tickled her words, just like it did her face, but Percy still heard.

Her neck was barely craned to him, and yet, she could see how close they were now. It made her grip onto Blackjack’s neck tighter.

He gave her one of those rare smiles, as though he’d been caught in the moment.“You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

She thought about Luke, for a second. He would always love her; that’s what he’d promised. They were family. And then again, Percy was always with her when she needed it the most. Ironic, maybe. But she couldn’t dwell on it.

Instead she said, “You did kind of save me, though.”

“Yeah, but you already thanked me, like, a bazillion times.” He tilted his head sideways. “Besides. You would’ve done the same for me.”

.

Percy meant to tell her. But the words were tangled up in his throat, just like they had been when the Olympian council debated on killing him.

Destroyer, they’d proclaimed.

Perseus. Destroyer.

In the end, Artemis hadn’t chosen Annabeth as a member of the hunt. But rather, Thalia.

Annabeth was alive and she wasn’t a hunter and from then on, he could breathe properly.

.

Staring at that lock of grey hair, she recalled the events that led them here. A pain that they both shared now.

She touched the streak gently, and they stayed there, swaying to their secretive music. It was the kind of song that stitched them together, two souls molded into one horrible moment.

But it was more than just the horror that connected them. In the vibrancy of Olympus, it felt like they were creating the beautiful moments, too. They’d become a luster that outshined the rust in their thread of life.

“So,” she said, swaying to the music. “What were you going to say to me earlier?”

“Athena doesn’t approve,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

“What?”

“I just...I wanted to say that…” He grabbed her wrists that were currently locked around his neck, taking her hands in his. This time, his gaze landed on her, only her. “You mean so much to me. I never want to see you go.”

Annabeth shook her head; she still didn’t understand where this was going. “You won’t. I changed my mind—about the hunters.”

Percy breathed out a laugh. “I didn’t think I could feel so relieved in my life.”

“Me neither,” she smiled. “I don’t think that kind of life was for me, anyway. But…what does my mom have to do with this?”

He regarded her for a few seconds, until he finally relented. But not before checking both ways in case Athena was around.

“She knows what I want to tell you, but she doesn’t approve.”

“And that is…”

Maybe she had some idea as to what was going on. But she wanted to hear it from him.

It was exhilarating and frightening all at the same time.

He took a deep breath; when he spoke, the words tumbled out of his mouth like burnt offerings.

“I want to be with you—but not if you don’t want me to. As more than friends. It’s cool if you think it’s too fast, though, or...I just—I thought you’d leave me, and that scared me so much. And—I realized that I really like you. But only, only if you want to, obviously.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll just shut up, now.”

As more than friends.

I really like you.

She didn’t think she was prepared to hear this. It sent her reeling, tumbling into echoing chambers where it was only her and Percy’s words. Over and over.

“Annabeth? Are...you okay?” he asked.

She blinked, and she saw everything clearer. The softness of his voice, his eyes, concerned. The sensation of her hand in his. The plumpness to his lips. She wanted to kiss him, and badly.

“Mom doesn’t approve?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

“I want to, though.”

Annabeth felt her cheeks flush at that, but she didn’t care.

“You’re...sure?”

“Yeah, Seaweed Brain. If you haven’t noticed: I really like you, too.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide, filled with wonder. But then he cleared his throat. “I mean, cool. That’s...cool.”

She snorted. “Okay, now—come here.”

And that’s when she kissed him. And everything felt perfect.

Though there was something that she’d forgotten. Something that had lured her into wanting to join The Hunters in the first place.

The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

She squashed it down. Prophecies have double meanings, anyway.

.

“I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.”

Athena had told Percy this. She’d told him many things. Like how his fatal flaw was personal loyalty, but she herself didn’t seem so sure.

But Athena was right, she was always right.

Except when it came to Annabeth. He didn’t care if she didn’t approve.

(Maybe that was his mistake.)

.

Annabeth thought that they could manage long distance—and they could—they’d been successful in calling daily and sending emails.

It was fine; she was finally happy.

Something in her had clicked at getting to see Percy smile at her when she’d call him her boyfriend, all sweet and loving, or just whenever he appeared on the IM. Her stomach filled with butterflies whenever he laughed at her jokes and whispered “goodnight” like a soft melody. Even though she never dared say, “I love you.”

It was all fine and good.

Until Luke appeared.

He’d knocked on her door, and her stepmother had answered.

She’d expected someone from camp, when Helen had called to her. There was a small flicker of hope there, that it was Percy.

But when she opened the door and stepped outside, her heart stopped. Her breath hitched.

“You,” she said through clenched teeth. Before he could react, she’d pointed her knife at him, slick and quiet as a panther.

His gaze flicked to that old  knife, and he had the nerve to smile.

“You still use my knife.”

She ignored him, moving closer, pointing the blade directly at him. “You here to finally finish me off?”

He patted his pants and shirt, then carefully raised his arms.

“I’m unarmed, see? Just wanted to have a talk, that’s all.”

“Like you wanted to have a talk back on Mt.Othrys? When you left me there, to die?” Her voice shook, but she held her ground.

Luke winced. “Five minutes, Annabeth. That’s all I’m asking.”

He looked terrible, like he’d aged twenty years. Every word he muttered out seemed to steal a part of him, leaving him there to rot. His skin stuck to his face, pale and hollow.

“Consider this as a truce,” he said. “I don’t plan to hurt you. I swear on the Styx.”

Thunder boomed. Reluctantly, she lowered her knife. But she wasn’t stupid, that knife wouldn’t go anywhere.

“And what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I need your help.”

She shook her head. “Luke, you know I can’t—”

“Kronos,” he breathed. “This is about Kronos.”

Her hand tightened against the pommel of her blade. She waited for him to elaborate.

“He...wants to use me as a stepping stone. He’s gonna take over the world, if I let him.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You don’t understand, Beth.”

At the mention of that nickname—that so few people ever used—she had no choice but to meet his eyes. They’d once been a bright blue. Now, they were shattered discs. Like his mother’s.

“I…” He moved his jaw from side to side, a nervous tick that had plagued him ever since coming to camp. “I can’t possibly do it. He’s gone too far, and I have no choice but—”

“ Why are you telling me this, Luke?”

“Because—”

“You know what? Whatever it is, I can’t help you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke before that could happen.

“You nearly killed me, Luke. You get that? You nearly killed me. Do you know how messed up that is? How, how could you do that? We were family once!” She was screeching now, her voice reverberating across the cobbled San Francisco streets.

She felt the sharp sting of tears, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting them fall.

Maybe by now, everyone in the neighborhood was listening in, but she didn’t care. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt him like he had to her.

A shadow crossed his face. Guilt. He felt guilty.

Traitor. Friend.

“Look, I...I know this won’t mean anything to you, but I’m sorry.” Her eyes fixed themselves on anything but him. “I just—he’s using me, Annabeth. In everything.”

“And what am I supposed to say to that? Too bad? I’m sorry? This was your choice!”

“No, you don’t understand.” His entire body shook. Annabeth had never seen him so terrified, so unstable. He’d changed, she realized, from that confident hero she’d once looked up to. “I want to run, ‘Beth. Fuck everything. I can’t take it anymore. I want to—to go with you.”

He’d left her utterly disarmed, her armour melting away. Was Luke...actually switching sides?

“Go...with me?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Gods, yes.”

“So you’re...having second thoughts? You want to go to camp?”

Hope blossomed in her heart, no longer the shriveled flower that it had once been.

Luke sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, through that grey streak. It was a symbol now, representing the two people she’d bled for the most.

“No,” he said, and that hope began to wilt once more. “You still don’t get it. I want to run, like the old days. Get away from all of this crap. From the Titans and the gods—everything. Just me and you, and we can finally be free.”

She laughed, water leaving her hope alone and escaping, running down her cheeks instead. “More like you don’t get it.”

“As if you knew even the slightest bit about what’s going on.”

“Wake up, Luke! This isn’t a fucking fantasy! People are counting on you—on me! And the old days are over! They’re over...because of you!”

“No, they’re over,” he insisted, “because of Thalia.”

“Please, Thalia made her choice—”

“Just as you’re doing now and just as I did before! Run with me, Annabeth, or let me die in the hands of Kronos. There is no in between. I wouldn’t leave you like Thalia did. You know Kronos controls me, you know the only way for me to escape him is to hide.”

She still shook her head. “No, no we have to stop him. We can’t just run like cowards, that’s not how it works! And I can’t leave Percy—”

“Ah.” His eyes blazed with a strange light, as though he’d found a missing puzzle piece. “So that’s what this is about. Percy .” He chuckled to himself. “He’s going to leave you in the end, you know that, right?”

Despite the dryness to his tone, Annabeth felt like his words were drowning her in an eternal pool of memories.

Worthless.

Freak.

Your mother didn't want you. Your father didn't, either.

And then…

A single choice shall end his days.

“You don’t know anything about Percy and me,” Annabeth seethed.

He sneered. “Oh, but I do. A little bird told me that you’re finally dating him. That he’s controlled every single thing about you since day one, leading you right to his trap.” His lips widened to a grin, watching her face. “Yes, I have spies. I’m sure you knew that already, though.”

A voice screamed in her head, that all he did was lie; that he was the one controlling her. But right now, nothing seemed logical, only that grin of his and the way it was crushing her garden of hope.

“You need me, Annabeth. More than you will ever know.”

Tears fell down her chin, swam in her eyes, distorting Luke. He stood there, silent, waiting for her to fall like prey to the arrow.

Yes. Go with him, rid yourself of responsibility.

No. Percy saved you from Luke. You love him, even if he might die.

Yes.

No.

Yes—

“There’s no way, Luke. After everything you’ve done...and now you’re asking me to leave the people I love? And no, Percy has never controlled me. Like Thalia did, hell, like you did— I made my choice. To stick up to him even when I know he might leave. Because I care for him, and he cares for me! Unlike you!”

He scoffed, moving closer to her. He could probably hear her thumping heart.

“Those are his words, not yours. Honestly, I thought you’d be better than this, Annabeth. Better than being with that bastard. Listening to him instead of me. We’ve been through so much together, have experienced more things than you and him will ever share. He wants me dead. He wants me to destroy our world by letting Kronos take over me.”

“You can still choose to side with us, Luke,” she begged, voice cracking. “It doesn't have to be this way!”

“Ah, choosing, choosing, ” he laughed, stooping to her eye level. She couldn’t escape, back against the door. “You see, Annabeth, with choices...sometimes...you don’t have one.”

She still held her knife; he was close enough for her to easily stab him with it. As though reading her thoughts, he stepped away from her, only for him to extend his arms. An invitation.

“Go on, do it. Fight me. Your beloved mother would approve, you know. Wise thing to do and all that. After all, this is the last chance you’ll get.”

She was silent, mouth parched, while her eyes rained down more and more tears. It was strange, the way he talked like he wouldn’t exist anymore. The way he implied that Kronos would do something to him.

Staring at him, openly waiting for her killing blow—she couldn’t do it, no matter how much she wanted to.

You loved him once, like he loved you. Or does he still love you?

No matter how hard she tried, her heart still held a part of him. Her knife slipped from her hand.

“I see,” he said. “You’re still that small, seven year-old girl. Weak and helpless.”

“Get out.”

He let out a breath. “For the record, you’ve just helped his plans stay in motion. When the world ends and crumbles at your feet, remember that you had your chance, and you didn’t take it.” He closed the distance between them again, only for her to shove him off.

“Get out, and don’t even dare touch me.”

He did listen to her, lowering one foot to the bottom step of the porch, but not before turning around, regarding her. Something like disgust brimmed in his eyes.

“This will all be your fault. You and siding with Percy Jackson. One day, he’ll be your undoing.”

“I said, GET OUT!”

.

“Annabeth? What happened?”

“Nothing, just...had a disagreement.”

“Was it someone from camp?” her stepmother asked.

Annabeth knew that Helen tried to make an effort with her nowadays, but she still didn’t feel like sharing anything. With anyone. Least of all her.

“Something like that,” she managed to mutter out, before she turned and dashed for the stairs.

She crashed in her bed, feeling the sobs already.

Stepping stone. What had he meant by that? Was Kronos going to kill him?

Suddenly her room seemed much too small for her. Shortness of breath. That’s what she felt.

The world might end and it will be your fault.

You could’ve killed Luke, once and for all, and saved Percy.

You could’ve—

She screamed into her pillow, deafening the sound. Deafening her cries, brutal and untamed. To her, it was never clear when she fell asleep that day. Only that, eventually, she did.

At first, she dreamed of the ocean. She’d always admired it from afar; it was the perfect work of art. Swirling colors that changed hues with the light. The ocean was the mirror of the sky, only more powerful. She knew this because she knew its offspring. She knew Percy.

He was there, standing atop dark, jagged rocks. They were black, a stark contrast to the blues and greens. His hair whipped around in the wind, though that was the only thing moving about him. His hair and nothing else. Then she realized that the sea wasn’t moving either. It didn’t take long for the wind to stop its whistling, as well.

She longed to run to him, to kiss him, to hug him...but she was a third-party spectator, drifting off into the sky as if her soul was unanchored to her body.

Meanwhile, the world held its breath.

Control, a voice whispered.

She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn’t move.

Control, it whispered again. That’s all he wants.

Percy chose that moment to look up. His eyes were dark, she could tell, even from her distance. Dark and green. Before she could so much as attempt to call his name, he dove into the mass of water, away from the rocks, and disappeared into the safety of the sea.

It is fatal. But it is his.

She turned. And there it was, that voice. She gasped when she saw the figure from which it was coming from. Luke. He was levitating just like her, in the middle of the ocean and sky. Only his eyes didn’t match the background. They were golden . Everything about him glowed, from his skin to that facial scar. His voice wasn’t his, not really. It sounded like rocks grinding, like rotten apples, like —

Luke … that face, stared down on her. Then the voice came, that horrible, rasping voice. His lips split into a smirk. “They don’t call flaws ‘fatal’ for nothing.”

She screamed, and everything disappeared

This time, her dream shifted to camp. She was sitting by the lake, her hair dripping wet. Luke was there, too. Normal Luke. The one who used to smile and ruffle her curls whenever she talked about architecture, the one who wore orange t-shirts and sandals and was looked up to as camp counselor. Next to him, she seemed much smaller, helpless. But it dawned on her that she felt this way because she was, in fact, much smaller than him.

This was a memory—when she was around nine, maybe.

“You know we can try again, right?” Luke was saying.

He was gentle when he dragged her into his arms and he was gentle when he held her there, keeping her warm.

“The naiads tried to drown me,” she said, sniffling. “I’m not swimming again. Not in a million years.”

“I thought you wanted to be the best swimmer at camp?”

His eyes were blue, she noted; they matched the calm waters of the lake. Normal blue and normal Luke. Just as it always should’ve been.

She looked away, arms crossed.

“Irene was right. Athena doesn’t belong in the water.”

“Hmm. Maybe Athena doesn’t. But you aren’t Athena. You’re Annabeth, and you can do anything.”

“Tell that to the naiads,” she grumbled.

He smiled, making his eyes crinkle. “I did. And they agreed to let you be. I do have some charm, you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The ladies can’t resist.”

She shoved him, grimacing. “Yuck!”

“Hey, girls love it! Now, come on.” He stood, and in he went to the canoe lake, disrupting the peace of the smooth water and splashing her everywhere. Holding his arms up, he signaled for her to jump as well.

She shook her head at him.

“Aw, come on! Don’t be scared, ‘Beth! I won’t let go of you. I won’t let you drown.”

“…Promise?”

“Promise.”

She didn’t need to hesitate anymore; all she did was jump into his waiting arms.

I won’t let go of you.

I won’t let you drown.

But he did. Time was cruel; no wonder Kronos wished for a war, for revenge. Time brought change and destruction. Birth and death. It shriveled things and turned them to dust. Luke may have loved her once, but Time broke them both apart into tiny shards of glass.

.

School was on the farthest corner of her mind the next day. She woke to the feverish sun sneaking through her pale curtains. Immediately, she wanted nothing but to curl under the covers. To melt into them like candle wax until no one remembered her. Or better yet, so that everyone would grieve. So that they would look for her in every corner of the world but never find a single trace. She’d be a legend, a strange happenstance from that past.

“Ah, yes. Annabeth Chase. The girl who vanished and shook the world with her mystery.”

Nothing like that happened. Though she did stumble into the bathroom from the nausea, only for her stomach to find nothing but water. She dry heaved and cried, tremors running up and down her body. She must’ve collapsed—lost her balance—because for a while, she laid there, on the cool bathroom tiles and staring at the wooden ceiling like some discarded doll.

Her father found her in that state. He rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms like she was five years old all over again and tucking her in bed.

Her eyes fluttered open a few times, catching Frederick’s wrinkled forehead and wrinkled eyes. He was worried. Concerned. She wasn’t going to lie: that was a nice change.

“—A fever,” he said. She didn’t hear the rest.

Helen said something in response. Annabeth couldn’t focus on that, either.

“I’ll stay by her bedside until she wakes up. Maybe that’ll help,” her father said.

I should be sick more often, she thought, then drifted off to sleep.

Hellish nightmares followed her there. Some were of Percy, burning alive. Others were of Luke, his eyes golden. Once in a while, she’d wake up, only to feel her eyes weigh down on her face. All those times, she’d have no choice but to welcome her nightmares again.

Hours or years or days passed before she could manage to be awake fully. The sound of a typing computer lulled her brain, but she had a mission; she wouldn’t let her mind slip away. She craned her neck to where the clicks and clacks echoed from, blinking a few times in the process.

There sat her dad, on her desk chair.

“Dad?” she croaked.

He turned, then beamed once he saw her fully awake.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?”

“Mm. Better.” She yawned, sitting up fully. “How long was I out?”

Frederick wheeled his chair toward her, arms resting on his thighs and brows furrowed. “Since yesterday morning.” He held his palm out and touched her forehead, murmuring, “Fever’s gone, at least. We should take you to a doctor, though, now that you’re awake.”

“No, wait. Dad. I’m not—”

“You’re not sick?” he finished for her, eyebrows raised. “The evidence presented in front of me says otherwise.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I was fine before, and this happened after I saw…”

“Your friend?”

“I mean, he’s not—” But she stopped herself before she could say, ‘ he’s not my friend.’ Instead she nodded and said softly, “Luke, yeah.”

Frederick handed her a glass of water, and she drank, slowly and carefully.

“I don’t pretend to understand everything going on with this…second titanomachy,” her dad said. “But I…I’m worried, Annabeth.”

Why did his visit make you sick? What is going on?

She knew that’s what he meant to ask. But the comment was left unsaid, a strange buzzing filling into the after-pause.

She shrugged. “Probably the nightmares. Sometimes that can happen, just never…to this extent, I guess.”

She watched him purse his lips. He knew almost nothing about her, even if, these days, he tried. He tried, but she still had half of a goddess. It was a part of her that he would never fully see, hidden away from his eyes in case it ever became a nuisance, a disturbance.

.

Recovery came quickly. Nevertheless, she missed half a week of school. She made sure to study and email her teachers—finish everything she had to finish—but really, that was just an excuse to not think about anything else.

Like Percy, for one.

What Luke had told her stayed in the shadows of her days. Her dreams, too—as well as her strange illness. Or at least the memory of it. She hadn’t lied to her dad when she’d said that dreams affected her in more ways than one, but this was a new record.

A god was trying to warn her of something. Perhaps it was Kronos’ doing, even. In any case, the dreams had taken a toll on her.

Percy and Luke and everything had taken a toll on her.

How much truth had been shown in her dreams?

Were they prophetic? What would happen to Luke with those unnerving, glowing eyes?

He’d talked in a voice that wasn’t his—an ancient voice—warning about Percy and control.

They don’t call flaws ‘fatal’ for nothing.

The last time she and Percy talked about fatal flaws, neither of them knew what his flaw was. Yours is hubris. Carrying the world on your shoulders feels easy, doesn’t it?

But what was Percy’s? Could it really be…

There was this terrible feeling, a tightening in her chest.

Suddenly, she was aware of an incoming IM. The air in front of her shimmered like water. Percy. Fuck. Without thinking, she swatted at the mist with her hands, clearing it away before it could form into the image of her boyfriend.

That’s when she realized: Percy couldn’t see her like this. He knew her too well; he would ask questions and she’d have no choice but to answer. For some reason, she couldn’t trust herself to bring up Luke in front of him. To bring up her dreams.

In came another call. With a swish of her arm, it disappeared again.

She could imagine Percy’s confused expression as he sat on his bed, wondering why his girlfriend had deliberately decided not to answer. So she stumbled over to her desk and opened her laptop. She unlocked her email and typed:

I’m sorry Perce. I was going to tell you that I can’t answer because my cousin Magnus is in town. He’s with me in my room at the moment. Didn’t want to freak him out lol. Also he’ll stay here for a bit. Probably until June. I hope it doesn’t bother you so much but I think that we should communicate via mail. Less risky and all that haha. So yeah I hope you’re well and say hi to Sally for me <3

Your gf,

Annabeth :)

She clicked send.

Gods, she hated herself sometimes.

Coward, Luke’s voice taunted, in her mind.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

But it was the truth. She couldn’t even face her boyfriend. Couldn’t even tell him about what was on her mind.

You think that he might leave, once he sees how weak you are. You couldn’t even see your oldest friend without it taking a physical toll.

She swatted those thoughts away like she did with Percy’s Iris Messages, but it was no use. They were here to stay, drawn with permanent markers in her brain.

Percy replied right away. He told her that it was fine—that not to worry. It would only be a month until they saw each other in person, anyway.

See Percy. After all this time.

They’d planned that, too. Annabeth would take a detour to New York City before arriving at camp, and they’d spend the afternoon at the movies like a normal teenage couple before they had to act the complete opposite of that.

A small, horrible part of her was glad that she’d lied to him. That she could fall on the excuse of her cousin Magnus—never mind that she saw him last when she was seven and had no news of him since then.

She had to, though, she had to lie to protect him from herself. So she curled up in her bed and waited for June.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 28

“Mirror, mirror ..”

“The universe shall be mine to control!”

“O’ cauldron, cast my spell!”

“Mmm those unfortunate souls won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Friends, give me your generous assistance. I seek to give you the souls you desire but I need you,”

“Nish.en.top Adlantis, panneb.le.nen. Gamos.yoh!”

“Hee hee soon that rotten emperor will be crushed like a bug and then Kuzcotopia will be mine, mine, all mine Hahahahahah!”

“Avalon ye gave thy sword to one true king. However he shall be felled.”

Uma shifted from foot to foot as she stared at the bulk of her mother’s backside. Not out of nervousness but in readiness. The first eight members had started casting their spells in the famed cauldron of the Horned King which Jade had deftly stole from the rotting corpse.While Mother Gothel, who only gained her power from the famed youthful flower, and Ginny steadily stirred the pot.

The cauldron was to be the centerpoint for their magic, generating energy draining fumes and crackling lightning that broke through the ceiling of the castle. But even as plaster and tile fell over them, the members did not move from their positions on the pentagram that Nerissa drew on the floor. It was essential that they did not break the ley lines of power connecting the thirteen of them, the sorcerer queen had warned.

A green mist rose up from the cauldron and Uma could already feel herself grow faint. The mist was supposed to drain powerful energies, not to death, but enough that they were average husks of a person. While transferring that energy, and magic, to the Coven. It made them more powerful and eliminated potential enemies right in their tracks.

The remaining four Coven members stood at six windows, facing outwards. Only two were stain glass while the others were crudely cut rectangles that resembled more of a small erratic explosion than a window. Not that the look mattered, the point of it was that these four were to direct their magic outwards to push against the remaining walls of the barrier while the cauldron blasted its center ceiling.

This, while the mini Coven as Uma knew, did the same blasting from their side in Auradon.

She, Calix, Jade, Zevon, Lala, Antiquam and Celia stood behind their parents, supposedly as substitutes in case one shall fall. Though Uma suspected that their parents didn’t trust them by themselves. Though they knew Zevon and Antiquam would be the only loyal ones to do so.

For any moment now, Circe was to turn, turn and back to back with her son blast Mozonroth who stood next to her. Breaking the ley lines.

Uma was concentrating so hard at the hourglass figure of the Grecian sorceress that she had nearly missed Ginny stumble and almost lose her ladle into the cauldron.

Seizing the moment to build on the former momentum of Celia’s suggestion. Playing on the villains paranoidness and alertness for backstabbers.

“Hmmph look at Ginny, she is nearly ruining this for all of us,” Uma talked from the side of her mouth to Zevon who stood next to her. The formerly enrapt teen blinked once, digesting what Uma said. “All because her mother and she can’t have an important place in the spell, they want to ruin it for all.” Uma hissed.

Jade had been working hard the past four days, integrating herself into Zevon’s presence, blocking any of the flirtations that had been occurring between him and Ginny. Instead she batted her eyes and whispered of Ginny’s insane jealousy that she had no magic like the rest of the Coven. That Mother Gothel was bitter for her lowered role as a mere cauldron stirrer and would ruin it all for them because she’d rather have none have power if she couldn’t have power.

And that idea clearly crossed Zevon’s mind as he glared suspiciously at a harried Ginny who was stirring double time to make up for her mistake. Double time that was threatening the steady rhythm they had been doing before. One could already see its effect as a streak of lighting blasted out by crackled and hissed before even reaching the ceiling.

“Bitch,” Zevon breathed through his teeth so sharply that Uma could hear its whistle just before he lunged at Ginny. He clumsily grabbed at the ladle, bumping against the cauldron as he did so. Mother Gothel came to her daughter’s aid, dropping her own ladle to help her daughter in the impromptu tug of war.

“How dare you! You will not ruin this for the rest of us!” Zevon raved.

“Zevon what are you-” Yzla screeched, cut off by the flash of white light from Calix, blasting Zevon to the wall, transforming him into a purple platypus. A strange choice but it got him out of the way.

Circe took her turn and blasted at Mozonroth and his stupified son, transforming them into eels trapped in the flowing robes they usually wore, and then Circe took the extra second of unexpected surprise to blast Mother Gothel, transforming her into a dowdy peahen.

In all the hubbub  and animal transformations, the glowing ley lines dimmed as members disappeared and stepped out of line in their surprise and confusion.

Uma let out a loud whistle and as instructed a volley of arrows launched through the windows, piercing Dr. Facilier in the shoulder, and Queen Grimhilde in the back. Small non-fatal wounds but from Queen Grimhilde’s shrieks, one would have thought they scarred her beauteous face.

Uma smiled as her plan came together and when she heard the familiar Scottish brough of her first mate and the sounds of 20, maybe 50 feet thundering about the castle, clashing swords with Maleficent’s henchmen and mooks. “Down with the Coven! “For Uma!” “For the Isle” sounded amid squeals and grunts of bloodshed.

Ducking when Ursula predictably snapped a tentacle to grab at her, Uma leapt and pushed her mother.

Her mother was never easy on land, that’s why she stayed in her den all day watching soaps, but it was almost comical the way the big sea witch swayed slowly from left to right, her tentacles desperately grabbing at Maleficent and Jafar for balance, knocking the two to their knees as she fell backwards into the cauldron.

The lightning streaks shivered and disipated. The mist unfurled back into the cauldron as its potions spilled across the floor. The green bubbles popping and fading, leaving an acid russet stain on the stones.

Yzma and Ginny did not wait, picking up the respective animalian relatives and ran past Uma to the door, Yzma scolding Zevon the whole way.

Celia bent down to her father, tenderly helping him with the arrow lodged in the shoulder. A scene that was bittersweet as Celia helped him. Unable to look him in the eye, the shadow girl focused on the arrow while Dr. Facilier thinly smiled. They didn’t have to say anything. They both knew what side they were on and though they probably wouldn’t be seeing each other after this moment. They still had this moment.

Quite the opposite scene to Nasira and Jafar who were cornering Jade to the wall, Nasira in particular, roughly bumping her golden viper staff against her daughter’s chin. “How dare you ruin this! I should have snuffed the life out of you a long time ago.”

But they had prepared for this. They had trained for this with her crew. She ducked, using her momentum, shewent on her hands, pushing herself up into a handstand. She crossed her legs around Nasira’s arms and pulled her down.

With the sudden wrestling twist, Nasira lost her grip on staff. Jade with her honed thief reflexes grabbed the staff for herself and smashed it across her mother’s jaw, knocking her out.

Although Uma wasn’t fond of the girl, too much like Jay with her lack of loyalty, too much of a lightweight. The look of triumph and amazement from Jade made Uma proud. For the first time, she fought back against her mother. She could see Nasira wasn’t invincible, and with that came a new kind of feeling.

Freedom.

Lala was in her own battle for freedom against her mother, the two grappling on the floor with the growls and hisses like the leopards of their motif. Lala on top, almost pinning La to the ground except the queen had her leopard staff against her daughter’s neck, keeping her from her goal.

That was until Uma threw her sword to Lala and the jungle girl brandished it against La’s throat, a small trickle of blood dripping to the floor. But the older woman used the same move as Jade’s, crossing her legs around Lala’s torso to switch their positions.

However, they had one more trick up their sleeve. As Lala wrestled to keep Lala pinned down and get the sword away from her grip, Jade came up from behind and bonked her on the head.

Jafar skulked away, disappearing in his own puff of flaming ash and smoke along with Nerissa and Maleficent.

And Uma knew better, she usually knew better, but seeing the plan all come together so easily, she allowed her guard down for the moment.

A single moment that her mother seized.

Ursula couldn’t heft herself up but her tentacles grasped Uma’s feet in tandem.

Her world turned upside down literally, the blood rushed down to her head and with her mother’s sunctioned grip she could feel her ankles numb from the tightness.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” Ursula rasped, allowing Uma to swing back and forth for a moment.

But Uma was not going to wait for the other tentacle to drop her.

All her life she had never cared for her mother. A feeling that was mutual since her mother only used her as an employee at the Fish Shop. Honestly Uma was more than an employee, she was practically the owner since she did all the work while her mother stayed in the den. She had never seen her mother move or possess any energy until she joined the Coven.

And her mother, her mother always said relatives and relationships were unimportant. Her brother, King Triton, banned her. Her sister, Morgana resented her and once they were on the Isle, Ursula had made sure Morgana stuck to the other side of the Isle’s sea. Not wanting to deal with Morgana’s ineptitude.

Ursula always said Uma was inept too even though Ursula never saw her. Since she was young, Uma did her best to stay out of Ursula’s way or else suffer an attempted whipping from… Uma was never sure why she got whipped. For being alive. For being another piece of proof of the futility of maintaining familial relationships since Uma’s father left after she was born.

She didn’t know and she didn’t care.

Apathy was her greatest tool when it came to her mother. Uma needed her energy for greater things.

And while she could never say she loved her mother, she would have to spend more time with her for that. Honestly, she didn’t resent her. She wasn’t mad at her for the lack of care. She knew her mother was incapable of it. The blame of neglect, Uma laid that on Auradon’s feet. Auradon knew what kind of people these villains were and allowed them to spawn children anyway. Allowed them to take care of children as if they were capable of such thing as love.

She could thank her mother for neglecting her for so long. It gave her her own identity unlike so many of the Isle kids stuck in their parent’s shadow. She was independent, honed her abilities to take command and be respected unlike the so called princess of the Isle, Mal, who was nothing without the authority of others.

Uma made her own authority and could never obey someone else’s orders.

So for Ursula to say, she shouldn’t have done this. Ursula should have known, she’d never take that as a threat. It was a dare for Uma to do just that.

Uma took in her surroundings. Calix and Circe had raised hands, blue sparks flying from their fingertips but they were frozen because they realized, just as she had, that if they blasted Ursula, Ursula would drop Uma on her head and Uma could possibly be knocked out from the fall. And honestly, they all needed her awake.

Celia, Dr. Facilier, Jade, and Lala were all waiting for her move. None would be of any help to solving this.

As usual she would have to be the one to save the day.

Harry wasn’t here so she couldn’t lock eyes at him, and he’d know to provide a distraction of some sort. But as of now, she could only hear the thunder feet and clashing swords. Closer now so Uma knew the crew would be here soon and the castle would be free for occupation.

She could stall, wait for the crew to barge in and do her plan with Harry.

But Uma was never one for being unnecessarily helpless for long when she could finish this herself.

Maybe it was a bit of the blood in her head, but she thought Ursula was still unsteady. Or maybe it was all the swinging. But one thing was clear that Ursula was waiting for something. She made no move to bash Uma against the wall or scold her more. She was just waiting, with her crocodile smile and continued swing of back and forth back and forth.

Was Ursula seriously waiting for her to beg for forgiveness or something? To cower in fear for disobeying.

Just another reminder of how little Ursula knew her.

Uma hadn’t even done that for Mal and she had liked Mal as her former best friend.

Ursula crossed her arms, her ruby smile turning into a sneer the longer she waited. That one gesture gave Uma the inspiration she needed.

She was so grateful that Gil had prepped her with some of Gaston’s wrestling moves during their fight nights.

She winded up her arm, thumb outside of her fist and focused her anger on her mother’s unmoving face. Focused on her purple skin, just like the purple hair that Mal crowed about while covering Uma’s with shrimp.

And she punched, Uma felt the revertebration on her knuckles. She saw the vibration from Ursula’s folded bulk, vibrating and shivering up each of her tentacles. She swayed backwards, releasing her hold on Uma’s legs, and though her legs were still too numb to catch her fall, Uma was ready for a roll onto her fours.

Ursula fell backwards again. For good as Uma listened to the sound of the sea witch’s head hitting the floor.

The victors stared at each other, none wanting to break the silence or jinx the victory they had made. But it looked like they had done it. Uma stared at the fallen Coven members, unconscious or slithering around uselessly on their eel bellies. They had really done-

Uma paused, counting in her head the members that had fallen, remembering the smoky exits of Maleficent and Jafar. And the mysterious absences of Nerissa and Morgana Le Fey.

“Damnit!” Uma cursed. Though the Coven hadn’t broken the barrier, those four were still capable of using their magic. They couldn’t let them escape! Just then, Harry barged in with the jolly faces of her crew, and the three Agrabahians.

Harry’s eyes shown with the awe that he usually reserved for her and for the triumph of battles won together but she couldn’t revel in that gaze right now.

“Hmmph guess you didn’t need our help after all.” Jay looked around, perturbed from missing the action.

“No, we’re not done. We have to go after Jafar, Maleficent, Nerissa and Morgana before they get off the Isle.” Uma barked.

And then the world went white.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------“The sword of the one true king may you be the holy vessel that allows our blood bind us forever,” Morgana intoned as the gleaming silver sword was dipped into the Beast’s chalice, now with blood, that Kyro had stolen from the musuem.

Alexandria bit her lips nervously as Morgana’s eyes took on the same silvery glow as if she were possessed. The aura flew through the sword surrounding them in a haze as if they were lost in the wooded forest but Alexandria knew from Morgana’s detailed explanation that this was a barrier sealing them from danger even though they could strike out at others.

As if with a will of its own the sword rattled and rose, pulling Morgana’s limp arm to face outward.

Their barrier haze cleared as they could see the view as before. High on Auradon Prep’s balcony they could see the Isle. They could see the Royal Guard dazed and unconscious thanks to Morgana’s knock out spell. No one knew they were here on this dark night where clouds covered every sparkling star.

Alexandria glanced at Victoria, wondering if she was feeling as nervous as she was. If she felt guilty watching the royal guard that she so wanted to join, be their enemies.

But the look on Victoria Porter’s face was nothing but determination. Intently watching Morgana’s spell, waiting for their revolution to start.

Alexandria breathed in deeply again, reminding herself of what had become her mantra. This was for the greater good. This was their revolution. It would all be better soon. This was for the greater good.

The Isle’s storm clouds were turning green and purple, a sight that would surely strike fear into the kingdom if anyone was awake. But they all were blissfully unaware, ignorant as always.

Alexandria focused on that. How ignorant Auradonians were. Ignorant and blissful with polluting the waters of Atlantica, with punishing fae and mermaids for their magical abilities, stripping them of their essence with the damned magic ban while giving favor to Vks who constantly flout the rules and used their magic for evil.

The Camelot sword pointed at the Isle, and with a single glowing white line it blasted the Isle barrier.

Its opaque glimmer disappeared, sparks flew in the shape of an upside bowl and then with a clap of thunder, the shine disappeared. The clouds left.

The barrier was gone.

[ashes-and-ashes]

So I was thinking the other night about the parallels between many of my favourite ships. Lightning and Marauders was a piece about Drarry and Wolfstar but I was also thinking about how similar Wolfstar and Grindeldore were, with the same desperate loyalty between two people who would quite literally kill for each other. I did write something similar to this before but I like this one much better :)

Anyways, here it is!

~

The office hadn’t changed one bit.

Sirius spins in a slow circle, taking everything in; the floor-to-celling windows, the half drawn silk curtains, the spiral rugs on the floor and the cabinets full of glittering pieces of metal. He stares at the huge oak desk, all carved lions and leafy vines and grins, remembering when him and Remus -

The sound of footsteps cuts his thoughts off. Sirius tried to banish the flush from his cheeks, instead turning to watch Dumbledore enter the room.

He’s dressed in full Hogwarts regalia today, all flowing purple robes and silver stars. His beard is braided neatly too, all the way down to his chest, his eyes twinkling even in the dimness of the room.

“Sirius.”

He inclines his head. Dumbledore crosses over, sits down on the other side of the desk.

“You called, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore laughs. “You’re not at school anymore. There’s no need for formalities.”

Sirius shrugs. He slides into the chair opposite of Dumbledore, studying the surface of the wood. One hand taps an uneven beat at his side, alternating scraping fingernails and palm slaps. Dumbledore doesn’t seem bothered by this at all; he just continues to watch Sirius with a calm gaze.

“Sorry,” Sirius says, after what seemed like hours of silence. “What did you want?”

Dumbledore laughs. “Patience never was your strong suit Mr Black.”

“I seem to be doing alright without an abundance of it.”

“I suppose it’s even why I picked you to coordinate the Order.”

Sirius acknowledges the point. He stares at his wrists, the moon inked on the skin just above his pulse point. It was enchanted, to change shapes with the lunar cycle - right now it was a beautful crescent, dark against the tracery of his veins. He thumbs the skin absentmindedly, tracing the pad of his finger over the smooth lines of flesh.

God he missed Remus, so much that sometimes it hurt. Remus never even told him - Sirius had woken up one day to a cold bed and a note.

Si,

D sent me to Werewolf Camps. Don’t know when I’ll be back.

I love you more then anything,

Re

He clenches his teeth against the rising wave of anger slowly filling him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were at war.

It still hurt though, not being able to see, to touch Re. Almost 4 months later and he still hadn’t received any information.

“Really,” Sirius says, in the silence of the room. “Why the hell did you call me here?”

Dumbledore just nods. “Ah, yes. I just wanted to...talk.”

Sirius snorts. “You brought me all the way to Hogwarts just to talk?”

“I thought the act of speaking to you in your old home would help.”

Sirius shrugs. He yanks at a stray hit of hair curling into his face, tucking it behind his ear. “No you didn’t. You want me to do something.”

Dumbledore just studies him. Finally he tilts his head, fingers clasped together on the desk. For the first time Sirius imagined what those butterflies in those glass boxes felt like; metal driven through wings, pinning him down and tearing him apart. That’s what Dumbeldore’s eyes looked like - huge jagged pins that stuck Sirius to the ground.

Finally Dumbledore spoke, his words slow and low. “You don’t mind if I tell you a bit of a story, do you?”

Sirius shrugs.

Dumbledore leans back in his chair, regarding Sirius with that piercing gaze. “Well, once, back in my youth I...met a very special...someone.”

“Congrats,” Sirius says. “Who’s the lovely bird?”

Dumbledore smiles. “His name was Gellert.”

The words hit Sirius like a ton of bricks. He gasps, mouth hanging open and wide, staring at Dumbeldore’s calm face. “So - you and - “

“Which part,” Dumbeldore’s asks calmly, “Do you find surprising?”

“The fact that - you were friends with - “

“Oh.” Dumbledore laughs. “We were more then that. Much like yourself and Mr Lupin. We were arrogant and bold and brave and all we wanted was to change the world.”

“So you were in - “ Sirius chokes on his words - he can’t imagine Dumbledore as anything more then his celibate professor.

Dumbledore just raises an eyebrow. “Love? Yes. It was a whirlwind, a breath in the space of a summer and sometimes I wonder if we would have lasted had we had more time.”

“But it didn’t,” Sirius says, hearing the finality at the end of Dumbledore’s words, the hard slam of a door. “It ended.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “It did.”

“And do you regret it?”

Dumbledore just hums. He gets to his feet, suddenly looking very old, like the years had poured down on him turning youth into decay. “I can’t say I do.”

Sirius bites his lip, lets the legs of his chair slam down onto the floor. He winces at the sharp crack of wood against stone but Dumbledore didn’t seem to mind. “Get to the point, Professor. What fucked up your relationship?”

He almost expects a scolding, a hint of disapproval for the coarse language but Dumbledore didn’t look bothered by the swearing. He seemed almost contemplative, like he had been yanked years into the past, twisting and falling through memories in that way that was so familiar to Sirius.

“Gellert was...intense,” Dumbledore says and the way he spoke made Sirius’ heart clench. It was the same way he spoke about Remus, the love so evident in every word, the way the name sounded holy against one’s lips. “Certainly too much for others to handle. He was passionate too - he put his soul into everything that he did and when those things failed it practically killed him. I suppose that’s why he was drawn to me - we both had that streak of determination, fixation to the point of collapse. I loved him like that, oblivious to everything else.”

Sirius had an awful feeling that he knew where this conversation was going.

“And I let myself be blinded by him. I ignored all his faults, all his weakness, that vicious cruel streak and that calculating edge. I let myself be corrupted by the thought of what could be. It was only much, much later that I realized what he had done to me.”

Sirius stares at him in disbelief. “Oh,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Oh I see what you’re doing here. Let me finish the story for you. You realized who Grindelwald truely was and you left him. You became a better person, the most powerful wizard in the world and Grindelwald was consumed by his anger and his grief until finally, you destroyed him. Right?”

He refuses to drop Dumbledore’s gaze, his chest burning with anger. “Right?”

“Precisely. Although it was far less dramatic then how you describe.”

Sirius just laughs. “And now you’re going to start telling me just how similar I am to Grindelwald. The same viciousness, the same short-sightedness, the same disregard for the rules. You’ll tell me how I’m self destructive and unstable and how one day I’ll snap and drag everyone down with me. And - “ Sirius breaks off. “And Remus is like you, right? Pure and noble and he’s too good for me, I’ll never be enough for him. Well, joke’s on you. I already knew that. And unlike you I knew that right from the beginning - “

“There’s a few things wrong with that,” Dumbledore says calmly, shutting Sirius up. “Firstly, I never thought I was too good for Gellert. On the contrary, I thought I wasn’t good enough. That seems to be the trend with these kinds of relationships, self doubt on both ends.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Wonderful.”

“And secondly, you are both correct and incorrect with your statements. You are right that I’m using my own failed relationship as a metaphor between you and Mr Lupin. You are correct that I have assigned both of you roles, comparisons between myself and Gellert. But you are incorrect in your assignment.”

Sirius blinks. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Dumbledore says, “That you are more like myself then Gellert.”

Sirius blinks. “Okay,” he says slowly. “So this wasn’t a conversation about how I’ll turn into the next dark wizard?”

“No,” Dumbledore says. “This is a conversation about fatal flaws and the unquestionable loyalty between two people who love each other.”

The words hit him like a sack of bricks, hard and aching, making him gasp desperately for breath.

“There’s a spy in our ranks,” Dumbledore says, and Sirius thinks he feels his heart stop in his chest. “A spy who’s been leaking our secrets, our plans of attack.”

“No,” Sirius says. “It’s not me. I would never - how could you think - “

Dumbledore shakes his head. “On the contrary. I do not think the spy is you, Mr Black.”

“Then who - “ Sirius cuts himself off viciously. “No,” he whispers. “He would never.”

Dumbledore just leans forward. “I would like to know everything you have ever told Mr Lupin.”

[miles3855]

The Tracker

Sam Paxton rode his horse slowly into the alley. It was a beautiful clear day in April, the grass lush and thick under the horse's hooves, the sun already high in the purest of blue skies. But there was nothing but sadness in Sam's heart, for this day he would have to kill a young man he liked and admired.

Adam Corbett, the man Sam hunted, had turned twenty-one only the month before, and seemed even younger with his innocent blue eyes, clean-shaven face and curly, shoulder-length brown hair. Adding to his youthful appearance was his incurable habit of kicking off his boots wherever and whenever he could, and traipsing around in his sock feet. Some of the men on Old Man McCune's ranch ragged him for it, called him the Barefoot Boy, but Sam--the ranch foreman--never did.

The ribbing was mostly good-natured, for Adam was the best-liked hand on the ranch, kind and friendly as well as superbly skilled. In his twenty years as a cowboy Sam had never seen a man so young who was such a good hand at riding, roping, breaking broncos, and doing whatever came to hand. Adam was even more popular with the ladies than the me, and that more than anything was what had gotten Billy McCune's blood up.

Billy McCune was a rat. There was no other way to put it. Four times Billy had gunned down men and claimed self-defense. Because, conveniently, there were never any witnesses, and because Old Man McCune. Billy's father, was the richest man in the territory, Billy had always got off scot-free

Billy wanted to make Adam the fifth notch in his gun. But Billy, an incorrigible drunk, misjudged his man fatally.

It had been only last evening, at the Georgia Belle saloon. Adam was at a table, boots off as usual, and one of the saloon girls--one Adam and Billy both favored--was rubbing Adam's white-socked feet and making sweet talk to him. Billy, a full bottle of whiskey in his gut, stood up suddenly, called Adam a pansy, said his feet were stinking up the place, and ordered him to draw.

But Adam, who was better at most things than Billy, was also a faster draw and a better shot--even sitting at a table with his stockinged feet in a girl's lap. Also, Adam wasn't a heavy drinker.

The sheriff hadn't even bothered to arrest Adam; more than a dozen witnesses swore it was self-defense, and anyway everyone loved Adam and hated Billy. Everyone except Old Man McCune. Billy had been his only child, and the old man was as mean as Billy and even more ruthless. Adam didn't have to be told even once to get out of town as soon as he could get his boots on and mount a horse.

The old man, as soon as he had heard of Billy's death, had presented Sam with a proposition: a flat five thousand dollars to go out alone, hunt Adam down, and kill him. If Sam didn't agree, he would hire a posse from out of town to kill Adam--and they would be considerably less delicate about Adam's feelings.

The old man accomplished several things with this proposition. He knew Sam was over a thousand dollars in debt from poker games at the Georgia Belle, so he couldn't rightly refuse such a lucrative offer. He also knew Sam was particularly fond of Adam, so there was the double motive of testing Sam's loyalty and sadism at forcing Sam to kill a buddy.

Sam, for his own part, not only desperately needed the money, but also knew that if he didn't take the old man's offer, there would be an even larger bounty on his own head.

As he rode along that morning, Sam thought bitterly that McCune could have sent a heifer from his herd to find Adam, as difficult as the job would be. Adam--for all his skill with a gun--had a trusting, naïve nature, and knew nothing of outlaws' tricks. It would be pathetically easy to find Adam, if not necessarily to outdraw him.

And, sure enough, Adam was right where Adam thought he would be. There was a hillside in the valley that sloped gently to the river, where a small grove of live oaks and a tiny mountain stream flowing through. This was Adam's secret place, of which only Sam knew.

Adam's horse was tethered to one of the oaks, grazing peacefully. Adam himself was sprawled under the tree, fast asleep, his hat over his eyes. His six-gun was to his right, his boots to his left, and one white-socked foot was crossed over the other.

Sam felt cold disgust at the sight of Adam sleeping. Didn't he realize the sort of danger he faced? But with that came a feeling of unbearable sadness. Adam was so innocent of heart--he couldn't conceive of a world where his best friend would be coming to kill him.

Sam rode up softly. The horses nickered at each other, but Adam didn't wake. Sam dismounted, tethered his own horse, and walked over to Adam, gun in hand. Sam loathed the thought of shooting any man, even one he hated, who was asleep, or had his boots off. Neither of these would happen to Adam!

He knelt at Adam's stockinged feet; the outline of Adam's toes was sharp and perfect on his stocking soles. Same tickled Adam's foot with the gun barrel.

Adam woke with a start and sat upright, reaching for his gun. Sam fired at the gun, hitting it, knocking it out of Adam's reach. Adam stared at Sam, flushed, not speaking.

Sam stared back at Adam, pointing the gun at his head, cocking the trigger. "You know the rules, Adam," he said, his voice trembling. "You knew the old man would send somebody after you, and when you think about it, it was an act of kindness he sent me. And you know if I don't kill you, he'll kill me."

After the initial shock, Adam looked less fearful than hurt, like a little boy who had been betrayed. Tears started to leak from his eyes, but his gaze was steady, and he did not speak.

"Come on, Adam," Sam said, his voice not unkind. "Pull your boots on, and stand up. I won't shoot you sittin' on the ground."

Adam continued to stare at Sam silently. His face, though tears were streaming down it, was brave and resolute.

"Stand up, Adam!" Sam said, more roughly. "Get your boots on!"

"No." Adam's voice was calmer than Sam's. Always a handsome boy, he looked angelically beautiful at that moment.

"I won't kill you like this, damn it! You can either die with your boots on like a man, or in your sock feet like a pansy-ass!"

"I've lived with my boots off, and I'll die with 'em off," Ada said, sitting at the base of the tree, his voice quiet but hard. 'If you're goin' to kill me, kill me like you found me!"

"Stand UP! Get 'em ON!"

Adam gazed at Sam, blinking back tears. Softly, he began to speak. "Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name...:

Sam was in a blind fury. Not know or caring what he was doing, he dropped his gun, still kneeling, grabbed one of Adam's boots, and tried to force it on the wrong foot. "GET YOUR BOOTS ON, DAMN YOU!" he yelled. Adam tried to pull his foot away, screaming with rage.

Sam lost his grip on Adam's boot, which plopped to the ground. Sam stared wildly at Adam's foot, the strong young toes flailing in the soft white sock. The sock seemed brand-new and clean. Everything about Adam seemed brand-new and clean, even when he did the dirtiest jobs at the ranch, like mucking out the stables or pulling a calf from a mudhole.

Sam wondered why, all of a sudden, his vision was blurring. Staring at Adam's foot in his hands, he stroked it gently, then kissed it.

Adam stopped struggling; he now began to sob audibly. Sam caressed the foot, gently kissing each toe, breathing in the faint smell of dried sweat. Adam felt Sam's handlebar mustache tickle his toes, and involuntarily let out a gasp of pleasure through his tears.

The other hands at the McCune ranch had always laughed at Adam's sock feet, but Sam had always found them endearing; now they seemed considerably more than that. Feeling the warm flesh and wiggling toes through the sock, Sam suddenly felt a wave of emotion like he hadn't felt since a girl had known back in Arkansas, a girl who died...

Still kneeling, Sam dropped Adam's foot and buried his face in his hands. He realized he could no more kill Adam than himself--knowing full well that to let Adam live was the same thing as killing himself. This was still racing through his brain when he heard two guns click above his head...

Adam stood over him, pointing his own gun and Sam's straight at Sam's head.

"Now YOUR boots," he snarled. "YOURS."

Sam stared horrified at Adam as he forced Sam to a supine position on the ground. Laying down one of the guns, he ripped the boots from Sam's feet and threw them as far as he could.

Sam's socks were gray, with white heels and toes, and extremely sweaty from the morning-long nervous tension of the man who wore them. Adam picked up the other gun and, with a look of near hatred on his face, began to tickle each of Sam's stockinged feet with the gun barrels, jut as Sam had done to him. This went on for several minutes while Sam watched silently, fear and excitement mingling in his heart.

Then Adam threw down the guns and started to kiss, lick and sniff Sam's feet as if he were trying to devour them. Sam, like Adam, let out a moan of pleasure, feeling the boy's handsome face and lips against his stocking soles.

Adam put Sam's stockinged toes in his mouth, and sucked. Sam, now nearly deranged with fear and desire, thought Adam was trying to suck his toenails out.

Then Adam dropped Sam's feet, grabbed Sam's face in both hands, and kissed him passionately, full on the lips. The two men tumbled through the grass in each other's arms, kissing each other as hard as they could, fumbling for each other's trouser buttons. Within a minute each had the other's manhood in his hand, and within two they had both come, their spunk billowing onto the grass.

They lay in each other's arms for several minutes, their pants still unbuttoned, each one's stocking feet rubbing against the other's. They stared into each other's eyes, crying, confused, relied, and unshakably in love.

After a while Sam sat up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Finally calm--for he know now what he had to do--he looked at Adam, smiling. "We got to finish our business here," he said.

He buttoned his pants, then stood up and went to get his boots, which Adam had flung about thirty feet apart. Adam watched him, sitting cross-legged like a small child, one stockinged foot crossed over the other.

Sam picket up his gun and reholstered it. "Can you stay here tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so."

Sam looked down at Adam tenderly. "We got to make this look right," he said. "The old man wants proof you're dead. I think he'll take it as proof if I give him your horse, gun and boots."

Adam stared back gravely. "He's goin' to want more proof than that," he said. "He's goin' to want my corpse, or a piece of it."

Sam shook his head. "A man don't give up his horse and boots--and certainly not his gun--unless he's dead," he said. "The old man knows that better than anyone." He picked up Adam's gun and boots and carried them over to Adam's saddlebags.

"Anything you want out of these?" he asked.

"My Bible," Adam said. "Also two pair of socks I got in there, and I'd appreciate my bedroll. I ain't got no money."

Sam took the Bible and socks out of the bags, then stuffed in the boots and gun. He took the bedroll from Adam's horse and brought everything over to Adam, who laid them on the ground. Sam then walked over to his own saddlebags and pulled out a box of hardtack, some strips of beef jerky, and a box of shotgun bullets. He pulled the rifle out of his saddle holster, and brought everything again over to Adam.

"The old man won't know I'm missin' my rifle," he said. "You may need it. I don't think anyone will come after you, but you never know."

Adam stood up. He took the rifle and other things over to the base of the tree. Then he embraced Sam and gave him an ardent kiss, his stockinged toes rubbing against Sam's booted foot.

"The old man promised me five thousand dollars to kill you," Sam said. "He didn't tell nobly else, so I figure you're probably safe tonight. I've known the old man twenty years now, and though I know he's an evil bastard, I also know he'll give me the full five thousand, and he won't tell no one about the bounty till I come back.

"The jerky and hardtack ain't much, but they'll last you till tomorrow sundown, which is when I'll be back." He stopped to wipe his brow; the noon sun was warmer than he anticipated. "You also have water from the stream, of course. The grove is just big enough for you to hide in if anyone comes by, and you also got the rifle. God forbid you have to use it. Don't light a fire tonight; put your blanket around you if it gets cold, and put on the extry socks too." He looked down at Adam's feet. "You goin' to be all right here? Alone all night in your stockin' feet?"

"Beats dyin' with my boots on!" Adam smiled, a full, radiant smile showing his even white teeth. Seeing the boy smile, Sam felt weak with love. He could barely open his mouth to finish what he had to say.

"Even after I pay my debts at the saloon, we'll have enough left over for a little spread of our own, far away from here. When I get back, I can walk the horse with you on it to the next town over, where we can buy you a new horse and boots--and a steak, 'cause you're goin' to be starvin'."

"Just so long as the steak ain't as tough as the boots!" Adam laughed, the first time that morning, and Sam thrilled to hear that familiar, welcome sound.

"I'll be back tomorrow, and then, God is my witness, we ain't never goin' to be parted again." They kissed once more. Sam gently lowered Adam to the ground, and once more kissed the boy's sock feet, now sweaty and wet from exertion. He kissed each toe slowly and tenderly, stroking the arches as he did so. Then he gently tickled each sole, and rejoiced in the boy's laughter.

"On second thought, I don't think I'll buy you boots after all," Sam said. "I'll buy you a hundred pair of socks, and keep you sockfooted forever."

"That'd suit me fine!" Adam said.

Sam rode off with Adam's horse in tow. it hurt him more than anything had hurt him in his life to leave the boy alone on the hillside, but he had to do it for Adam's sake.

Sam turned around one more time, and Adam was there, laughing and waving. "God is good to me," Adam though as he waved. "He brought me Sam, and He'll watch over us both." The noon sun was delightfully warm on his face, and the long grass tickled his stockinged feet. Yes, he though, everything will be fine.

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Ooh, this one is fun!! Okay, so I changed a few things for flow story-wise, but it should still fit. Also I did a little more world-building off-screen than I should of but... it was fun.

Escape

Roger has been told to keep an eye on certain advisors, what he isn’t expecting is for them to be so bold with sending actual assassins while they’re in the middle of court. Dressed up in their rival nation's colors ofc. He’s able to dispatch the first assassin with ease, but gets a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. The few loyal knights rush in, but Roger’s main goal is to get Freddie out of the castle.

So he takes him through the back tunnels that Brian showed them when they were younger to sneak out. He’s not surprised to see that the warlock is already halfway to the throne room. Brian takes Freddie’s arm because of course the young prince wants to get back to his people.

They don’t know how much support they still have in the castle, Roger reminds him so they have to go.

As it turns out the crossbow bolt was poisoned. Predictably, so by the time they reach the middle of the forest, no doubt thanks to Brian’s magic because he’s looking close to passing out.

Freddie is freaking out because his two cheif protectors (brothers, companions, friends, something else?) are both vunerable, and his father never really let him learn martial skills beyond wrestling and the like. And he knows the tales of this forest and about the spirits and Fae that run the woods.

When Brian finally sucumbs to his exhaustion and Roger to the poison, Freddie is sure thsi is the end for all of them because then there’s rustling in the trees. A young(?) elf stumbles through the underbrush.

“What are you doing here? Humans are forbidden here.”

“I don’t mean any harm, we don’t. My friends, they need a healer. One is badly poisoned.”

John checks over the pair, wincing as Roger’s wound grows sickly and green. He knows helping humans is a crime, but they also charish all life, so he smears on a salve on the wound and crushes herbs into the warlock’s mouth.

Then he waits, because the humans probably won’t do anything while he’s there with his weapons.

It turns out all the humans needed was the night. Elf magic and healing is far more potent than humans (even if Bri has to hesitantly explain that he has elven blood in him and that’s why he’s so good a magic becuase he’s up much faster than any human should be even without the help).

Once Roger is up, he wants to back and shore up their support and reclaim the castle. The coup needs to be settled effectively and swiftly so that the people don’t get restless. Brian argues that they need to do everything under the radar because they might not have the majority support.

John watches this for a few hours. How the two humans (or rather human and half-human) will be at eachs other’s throats back off and resume. The other human seems content to let them bicker, but every once and awhile the two arguing ones will defer to the other. It doesn’t take him much longer to realizes that this is an Important Human techincially in charge of the two bickering ones.

Then comes the army through the forest. John feels how the woods scream in terror. He takes off, surprised to find the humans come with him. His village is being ransacked by the Human Army. He takes off to fight them, and much to his surprise the warlock is with him as well.

They fight until they get overrun and then the warlock (Brian he thinks he heard) pulls him away, saying that its too late. John reluctantly agrees, a useless death his not a heroic one. Brian takes him to somewhere in the forest that he knows well, but not many know of.

“Sorry, it was the first thing that had enough of your past presence here,” Brian shrugs.

The other two appear in a shimmery mist. John sees the waystone in Roger’s hand. It must be attuned to Brian. Which is no small feat to do.

Regroup

With John’s permission, the humans (and half-human) manage to set up a rebel base of some sort. Reaching out their allies which are much fewer than he knows they hoped for. He’s also turned it into a sort of refugee camp for those of his village and other’s affected to regather in. Which technically means its a joint army for the first time in thousands of years.

Even the humans defer to him in rank despite not being an Offical Member of the Army. He guesses its because Freddie is always with him (or within eyesight of him) and Roger seems to allow his presence when he chases others away from Freddie (��“I don’t care what they say, or how long they’ve served the crown. I’m not letting anyone I don’t know or trust near him”).

No one ever tells him explicitly but he knows it has something to do with why they ended up in the forest in the first place as Roger was poisoned and Brian knocked out to near exhaustion. Not that John has any complaints, because Roger gives the same treatment to both elves and humans which strangely enough helps builds bonds.

John is also quick to learn why Roger is Freddie’s chosen gaurd, after he soundly defeated four would be troublemakers that tried to disregard his commands. He’s impressed at the speed Roger possess, almost as quick and dexterious as an elf.

Freddie on the other hand is well liked by his followers. He’s kind and caring, while a bit entitled at times, John’s never heard of a more pleasent human. When they’re with the other commanders, Freddie always makes sure to keep everyone’s voices heard (including the elves) and doens’t have much paitent for the bickering of his commanders (even if Roger has less so).

John figures that Freddie must be similiar to their council but born into this position. Humans are far more prone to greed, but Freddie earns every man’s loyalty (and John is quickly finding that he is one of them).

Then there’s Brian. The half-human warlock. Brilliant but prone to worrying and magical mishaps. John has never seen anyone (elf or human) more intune with the ley-lines of the world. Although more than once John has found himself guarding an unconsious Brian because he exhausted himself in his quest to find the things they’ll need to reclaim Freddie’s throne.

He also has the most understanding with Brian, because while the Warlock might not know their culture completely, he does know parts of it. And usually he’s pretty good at explaining why certain threads get crossed between humans and elves in their camps.

John also just enjoys the way magic wraps around Brian and makes him warm.

About three months into this entire mess John realizes that he’s sort of fallen in love with them. In elven culture, more than one lover is accepted irregardless of gender, sometimes it’s even encouraged because of low-birthrates. Humans aren’t like that, he’s found. Especially when he’s heard stories of soldiers wives making homes with those left behind.

He would like to draw away, but the three won’t let him. Everytime John wants to go on a scouting brigade, Roger will join him (ultimately leaving Freddie with Brian or bringing the prince along). John tries to organize things on the elven side, Freddie is next to him, trying to figure out ways to make their rations and supplies last longer (wait, you use the rine of the fruit? We don’t eat it, so let’s set up a collection place!). Brian, just seems to know where he is (not that it’s hard John, you’ve got a pretty specific energy).

What Brian fails to tell him, that he has to learn from one of their own Spell-weavers is that he has a specific energy that matches the others. Not that Brian knows the significgance, until said spell-weaver explains it to him. (John somewhat enjoys how humans do have boundries of things others can tell someone else).

Brian naturally tells Freddie and Roger. John has to sit through a very awkward confession (because they hadn’t really thought about why they all fit together, but yeah kissing and courting each other sounds very nice). So now that they’re all on the same page of romantic love. John couldn’t be happier.

They still have a castle to seige, and that might not go well. John tries to ignore that.

Conclusion

John stays with the elves and arches during the siege and subsequent battle. Roger is on the front lines along with Freddie, and John knows he won’t stray far from the prince but he can’t actually see them to verify, and Brian is taking a group through the secret hallways of the castle to get them from the inside as well.

He doesn’t know who to be more worried about, since save for a stray arrow, he’s mostly protected. While he fells as many as he shoots arrows, he can’t shake the feeling that something might go wrong. Roger could (would. will) sacrifice himslf to keep Freddie from feeling a fatal blow. Freddie might not be able to stop a fatal blow and he and Roger got seperated. Roger could sacrifice himself and Freddie still fall.

It’s the last one that has him deffering command to second, and starting to run through the battle. 

He can’t help Brian. The warlock is too far out of his reach, but John can’t stop the thoughts of everything that could go wrong. The traitors might have learned of the passages. They could’ve collasped. Giant spiders. Someone getting too close to Brian before he can cast. Somone nullifying his magic.

“John?” Roger slides next to him.

As expected Freddie is only a few feet away from him, and Roger’s eyes are trained directly on his prince.

“Sorry. I couldn’t. I wanted to be up. I can’t.”

Roger nods and pulls the shortsword off his belt, “I know you’re good with your bow, but here.”

The three of them start carving a path towards the gates. John keeps an anxious watch on the sky waiting for the signal. So does Freddie. So does Roger.

Eventually the orange sparks hit the sky and the second phase of their plan occurs. The castle gates fall and the inside had already been routed. Except he can’t see Brian. Roger and Freddie are fine, Freddie’s already assuming his duty as now King, but he can see that they’re looking for Brian too.

John worries for a split second about what’s going to happen between elves and humans, but he’s more worried about where Brian could be.

Then he sees a curly mop of hair stumbling towards them. Exhausted but unharmed. Roger urges him to go to Brian with his eyes, because he still has to be A General and get things settled.

John can’t help but ask Brian when he wraps around  him, “what’s going to happen to this. To me?”

Brian snorts, “if you think you’re going to be able to get away from Freddie and Roger now that they have you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“And you?” John wonders if Brian doesn’t care about him as much as the others.

“I don’t have to worry about not being able to find you again.”

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Liability: Chapter 1

And now for something a little different. Hello Teen Wolf fandom! I’m in love. Especially with Stiles. But also all of them. But mostly with Stiles. I can’t help it! He’s just so precious and whumpable. On that note, enjoy my first Teen Wolf fanfic! 

Derek had never committed straight out, unprovoked murder. But tonight he was seriously considering it. He stopped walking and the footsteps behind him stopped. He took three more steps and paused with the same effect. He started walking faster and the crunching footsteps followed, even louder this time. Finally he turned around. “You know I can hear you following me right? Literally all of Beacon Hills can hear you from here.”

There was nothing but silence. “Stiles, I know you’re there. I can smell you.”

After several more seconds the offender stepped out from behind a tree. “First of all, I showered today, so I don’t smell. Second of all, I’m not following you. You happen to be investigating what I’m investigating so my proximity to you is just a coincidence.”

Derek smirked. “If you’re investigating what I’m investigating, does that make you one step behind me?”

Stiles thought for a moment. “Or you’re rushing ahead while I take the time to look at things with a more broad understanding.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Go home Stiles. I don’t need your help.”

Stiles jogged and caught up with him. “Are you sure? Scott loves my help.”

“Well I’m not Scott.”

“Obviously. Scott would never leave his pack behind and walk alone into the woods in the middle of the night searching for a rogue omega who’s already injured two people.”

“You mean like you’re doing?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

Derek strongly disagreed. “I don’t need help. It’s one omega. I’ll track him down, take him out, end of story.”

“But are you sure there isn’t more to it? Do we have to just take him down? And how do you know it’s a him? That’s a little sexist. Girls can be werewolves too.”

“Because I have supernatural abilities and you don’t. Which makes it unsafe for you to be out here. So go home.” He emphasized the last two words.

Stiles stopped walking as Derek continued on. “Fine!” he yelled. “But if you get into some kind of god awful werewolf skirmish where your limbs get ripped off don’t come crying to m—“

There was a snarl, a flash of movement, and then a choked cry of pain. Derek whipped around to see Stiles pinned against a tree, the omega holding him there by his throat.

Derek let out a growl and sprang forward, knocking the offender off balance and away from Stiles. He slashed at its chest and throat, going for the kill rather than leave him to hurt another person in Beacon Hills. In return he took a bite to his shoulder and claws across his spine.

He roared in pain and threw his assailant into a tree. The omega squealed before loping off deeper into the woods. Derek got to his feet and began to follow, but there was a groan to his right and he remembered Stiles. The teen was lying prone on the ground. Chances were he’d be fine on his own now that the omega was on the run, but Scott would kill him if anything happened to his best friend. Derek walked toward him. “Stiles get up.”

Stiles sat up, rubbing his head. “Well that was less than fun.”

“Are you going to sit around all night?”

“Yes, I’m fine thanks for asking Derek,” Stiles said acidly as he began to get to his feet. “Ow.”

He pressed a hand to his stomach and when he pulled it away it was dark with blood. “Oh god.”

Derek’s own stomach lurched and his body moved with it. He went to his knees beside Stiles. “Lie down.”

Stiles stared down at the blood covering his hand, a bewildered look on his face. “Is that…am I bleeding?”

“Stiles lie down!” Derek pushed him forcefully back into the dirt. He ripped apart his shirt and found deep claw marks scoring the flesh on the boy’s abdomen, blood flowing from them at an alarming rate.

“Oh shit. This is bad right? Is this bad? Am I dying?” Stiles babbled. “Is this what dying feels like? I don’t want to die here with you Derek. I don’t even like you.”

“Shut up,” Derek growled as he pressed his hands against the torn flesh. “You’re not dying.”

Stiles let out a moan at the pressure and then continued to rasp out, “Am I turning? Didn’t Peter say something about that once? I don’t want to turn either! I’m very comfortable with the amount of body hair I already have.”

“You’re not turning! It’s not that bad.” That was kind of a lie. Derek didn’t have a vast amount of experience with injured humans, and while this didn’t seem instantly fatal, it didn’t seem like a papercut either. There was a lot of blood.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Stiles said.

“No you’re not. Take some deep breaths all right? We’re going to get you out of here.”

“It hurts when I breathe.”

 “Well at least that means you’re not dead.”

The bleeding wasn’t stopping and Stiles’ pale face was beginning to look even whiter in the moonlight. If they didn’t do something fast things were going to take a turn for the worse. Derek didn’t want to think what Scott would do when he found out his best friend had been torn to shreds on Derek’s watch. He took a deep breath. “Hold this. Do not let go,” he said. He put a wad of Stiles’ torn shirt into the boy’s hand and then pressed it against the wound.

“Where are you going?”

“Up. Come on. Get up.” He hauled Stiles to his feet ignoring the grunts of pain and protest. “We have to get close enough to the road for cell service.”

“My insides are hanging on my outside and you’re worried about whether or not you can order a pizza?”

How could this kid be a hair from death and yet still so incredibly annoying? “No I’m worried about being able to call for help so I don’t have to bite you and make you part of my pack. Because honestly I can’t think of anything I want less in this life.”

“Right back at ya buddy,” Stiles said with a touch of actual venom in his voice. “If I’m joining anybody’s pack as a wolf, it’s Scott’s.”

“If you walk a little faster you won’t have to join a pack at all,” Derek snapped more harshly than he meant.

They stumbled through the undergrowth and Derek tried not to think about what would happen if the omega turned around came after them. He could feel his own wounds beginning to itch as they knit back together, but Stiles wouldn’t be so lucky. In fact if anything, all this jostling about was going to make his injuries worse.

Stile’s knees buckled and Derek stumbled as he took the boy’s full weight. “Stiles, come on!”

“Sorry, I just, I need to sit for a second,” he gasped.

Derek lowered him to the ground. Blood was streaming from the wounds even faster than before. “Oh geez. That’s a lot of blood,” Stiles said thickly, his eyes slightly unfocused.

“Don’t look at it,” Derek said. The fabric Stiles was holding was soaked with blood so he ripped off the bottom of his own shirt and pressed it into the wound. Stiles moaned in pain, his back arching against it. Derek felt a trickle of something, maybe compassion, maybe just straight up fear. “Hey, Stiles, come on. Pain makes us human. Tough it out.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m the only one out here who’s ever been human,” Stiles said between gritted teeth.

Some of the fight had come back into his eyes and Derek took that as a sign he was ready and hauled him to his feet again. They walked for ten more minutes before Derek began to hear the faint sounds of the road and then, as if by a miracle, they came across Stiles’ jeep. “Oh thank god,” he breathed moving a little bit faster.

He shoved Stiles into the passenger side, pressing the makeshift bandage further into the gaping flesh. “Hold it tight,” he said firmly.

He jumped into the driver’s side and hit the gas, fishtailing a little as they pulled onto the road. He managed to get his phone out of his pocket and dial Scott. It went straight to voicemail. “Scott it’s me. Come to hospital. It’s Stiles.”

He glanced over at Stiles to see his eyes closed, mouth slightly open. “Stiles! Hey! Talk to me! Don’t go to sleep!”

His eyes opened blearily. “I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“Not right now. Talk. About something. Anything. Come on. Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“Why?”

There was no response. “Stiles come on! Why do you hate me?”

“You stink,” Stiles mumbled.

“And what else?”

“You’re a pompous asshole.”

Derek nodded. “True.”

“You stole my best friend.”

Derek looked at him sharply. “What?”

But Stiles didn’t answer. His head flopped forward and the hand that had been keeping the wound closed slid down until blood began dripping onto the seat.

“Shit!” Derek hit the gas and took them flying into the parking lot of the hospital. “Stiles wake up!” he growled as he pulled him from the car.

He burst through the hospital doors and his eyes landed on Melissa McCall. Blessed Melissa McCall who would know what to do. Who would know how to fix this. “He’s bleeding out!” he said desperately.

“Call Dr. Morton!” Melissa ordered as Derek laid Stiles on a gurney. “What happened?”

“It was an omega,” Derek said quietly. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“What about you?” Her eyes glanced over the gashes in his shirt and side.

“I’m healing. Take care of Stiles.”

Five seconds later they were gone and Derek was left alone. He sank down into a chair. He had no obligation to wait. Stiles wasn’t his pack.  But something kept him glued to the seat. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was some kind of loyalty to Scott. Or maybe it was the way Stiles had looked while unconscious in the car, so helpless and broken. Whatever it was, Derek stayed until Melissa came and found him.

“Derek?”

“How is he?” he asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

“He lost a lot of blood. He’s pretty weak. But they were able to fix the damage. He’s lucky that thing missed his vital organs. He’ll be all right.”

Derek exhaled. “I was standing right there. I told him to go. If I’d just paid more attention…” the words tumbled from his lips unbidden. Apparently he felt guiltier than he’d thought.

She touched his hand. “You got him here in time. You saved his life.”

It had been so long since he’d had a mom he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Her assurance soothed his broken spirit.

“Come on.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He rose and then looked around, aware that someone was missing. “Where’s the sheriff?”

“He’s out of town. I called him and he’s on his way back. Probably speeding if I know him.”

Derek nodded tiredly, wincing as the still tender wounds on his back pulled. “You’re sure you’re okay?” Melissa asked.

Physically he was fine. Emotionally…he wasn’t sure yet. But he’d already said more than he’d meant to. He took a breath and shoved his feelings back down where they belonged. “Yeah, I’m good.”

[red-snapper-renegade]

You know I've been on earth almost 30 years. I've been in bad situations, I'm still living life and experiencing life. When people say things like, " nobody set him up he set himself up. I guess pop smoke killer a legend." I don't know if that's a remark of saying something else or what reason.. His music is never going to fade and his presence of Pop Smoke being with us this short of amount of time. This doesn't do too much Pop but I know you will appreciate every little thing said about you. I know your listening now... I always feel your energy.

You're one in a million. Your one of a kind. I was so proud of you and so happy that you're here with us. There's more to this and it's more than you ever know, you was already loved. Who's that handsome young man right there? That's the King of New York. The face of everything. How you had your future plan in life it was so huge. Jealousy exists tho.. Hate is a very very strong word but that's not what god says in the bible. Yeah, you had the whole scene on lock. You had so many fans that genuinely fell in love with you.. I found out about you in the late May of 2020. I heard Dior Dior everywhere. I noticed LV on him and shades on his face. When I read about what happen to Big W💫💫 I said, another one left us too soon. I was sad. I was upset at that point. And I thought to myself like, what made him shoot a video in California? Why LA? At first I thought like, damn. Him, slippin?? Nah. He was set up... Why only him got murdered? And why wasn't the front door locked from the start? I'd say he got too comfortable, so who made the robbery call since he was in the shower? At 4:30am? In the AM!!? I never trusted his girl, Yummy yellow. Everybody in the gang crew, his girl everybody had something to do with it. I don't trust none of them. If they were smart enough I woulda took everybody in and charged some of them for murder and accessories. I'd charge the gunmen premeditated murder and a death sentence. Took his Rolex and chain. Sold his Rolex for $2,000. What did he die for? It was all jealousy and they hated him. Some people say this is personal and I also agree with that. You've taken away his talents. You've taken away the most talented entertaining young man to come and perform the most hottest drill beats. You've taken away what we can't see and ever see move a milestone of his career growing..... All because for money. And Jewelry. I can't phantom that he's gone so soon, why would you murder Somebody for a damn Rolex and Chain? Just why?? 'Be your own Boss. Don't let nobody run your own business and system.'

To me, as he was getting powerful everyday as he was making his way to the top of the world, they was scared of him. Because he was also getting ripped and bigger too. If you coming to rob somebody why the first thing you do is shoot and kill somebody? They couldn't even fight man to man. They rather be trigger happy than fight. To me, he coulda gave up his chain if he wanted to. He showed what y'all did to Jesus. Look what you did to Pop? Look at him now? You put him away because of Jealousy. You killed him because of fame. Idc about the gang shit, idc about gang shit again YOU KILLED HIM FOR NOTHING. For how long I been listening to Pop he said in few of his tracks, "there's niggas that will shoot you for nothing!" That's some real life shit. He don't just rap about gang shit, he raps about different things. He may be an Active gang Member, he coulda went a different route to make make ends meet. But, that was for nothing. Yes everybody had everything to do with it. Don't trust nobody. Especially when you have your own career going. Pop may not be with us anymore but his energy is still flowing and he's always going to be the King of New York.

Rip and long live Pop Smoke. I will be seeing you One day Pop. This is fatal and a mistake. This is a real mistake, they should've went not you baby. Jealousy is very very very ugly. Especially when you was only doing you, its ashame they take you from us. We were just starting to see you shine, but shinier than ever. It'd be more beautiful if you kept doing the damn thing he wanted you more than you ever be dealing with right now. And you know. You became too powerful Pop. And they got scared. You woulda been so huge, so big. You became king of New York; the face of New York. I know for a fact I woulda ran into you some where in California or in New York one day.

I could show you real. Genuine. Loyalty. Trust and only that person, If I could be that close I'm strictly here for you. Times being with you could whoah and auhh me but I'm here for you... People do and get into things for the wrong reasons. You want a real everlasting and living relationship, take my hand and I can definitely show you. I can't stand lying and cheating on somebody I only see. I was in that cold draft before. He was only going with his locals he was comfortable who he goes with. I've been hurt before, 2 years of my life. I can show you better than I can tell you.

We miss you Pop Smoke. If I met you one day, I'd only call you Poppa or Pop Locsta. You should know your best friend that you by that to being yo lover. We woulda had fun. 🙏🙏💙💙💙💙💫💫💨💨💨💨🕊🍷💙🍷🕊🍷💙🍷🕊🍷💙🍷🕊🍷💙🍷🕊🍷🍷💙🍷💫🍷🗽