#roses and pearls chapter twenty-seven

[thesweetnessofspring]

Roses and Pearls by HalfHope (thesweetnessofspring)

Rated: E

Description: Peeta Mellark is the sole victor of the Quarter Quell. With District 12 nothing but ash, he rebuilds his life by moving to the Capitol and falling in love with Rosalia Snow, granddaughter to Coriolanus Snow.

Then people Peeta thought long dead kidnap him and Rosalia, including the one person he hates more than anyone: Katniss Everdeen. They say he's been hijacked. They say that he used to love her. Locked away in District 13, Peeta is determined to protect his mind and his fiancée from the rebels. But while imprisoned, videos disprove his memories and his feelings toward Katniss grow confusing. Who can he trust, and what really happened in his past?

Thank you @louezem for beta-ing this chapter! It's been a long time coming and one we've been looking forward to.

Chapter One | Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Each day, more people from District 13 come to Three. They first utilize the homes in Victor Village, four people to each bedroom, with families and couples getting priority and the single people then lining the living rooms with their cots to sleep. I get assigned to the Everdeens’ room, the same one Katniss and I shared. Once we wash the sheets, we let Prim and Mrs. Everdeen have the bed while Katniss and I put our cots next to each other on the floor. It means we don’t have the same privacy as before, but we manage to find time to ourselves, especially when Prim and Mrs. Everdeen work at the same time.

The propos air in all of the Districts while Beetee and Electra continue to work on how to break through the Capitol’s airwaves long enough for the propos to run. The feedback, they say, is largely positive. Unknown to me, as I’d been shielded in the Capitol, had been the fact that many in the districts grew distrustful of me when I started dating Rosalia. The propo revealing the details of the hijacking and Katniss accepting me as her lover again had increased the fury toward the Capitol and restored my image. Most importantly, Katniss and I coming together again after six years apart gave people hope that after all of these years, the Capitol can be toppled.

With the positive response, Plutarch and Cressida want to keep the momentum going, and Katniss and I are told we’ll be given a tour of a factory in Three for a propo. So far, Three is the only district to completely push the Capitol out, because of the force fields they’ve set up around key parts of the district. This was largely thanks to Electra, who had designed a force field stronger than the one that had contained all of the arenas for years. The so-called “chink” Katniss had described to me had gone from the size of an orange to a pea. 

Continue reading on ao3

[steven1123x]

In the summer of 2008, Rose Quartz Universe was filming her son, Steven Quartz Universe, unaware that he would soon become the star of a cartoon produced by Cartoon Network under the guidance of a brilliant director. [STEVEN UNIVERSE ACTORS AU]

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My take on Steven Universe and how Steven got his big break into the acting world and even got his own TV show on Cartoon Network. This was inspired by a short on YouTube I saw called ‘Steven Moves In’ you can look up ‘Steven Universe shorts and watch the video.

I hope I can keep this going for you guys as much as I can. Anyway. Bye, guys!

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Behind The Scenes - Chapter 1: Steven’s Big Break.

June 2008.

“Is it on?” a voice asked. A boy nods. The boy had a head of curly black hair, had black eyes, he also wore a salmon pink T-shirt that was too big for him, and cuffed jeans. He has a Band-Aid on his left cheek, he also had no shoes on his feet as he sat next to his father in his van which had both the doors open. the child flashed a smile and a peace sign to his mother.

The woman behind the camera chuckled, and the boy smiled softly at her.

“Come on, Steven, show us what you wrote.” his father insisted. Steven took a deep breath strummed the ukulele and sang. Steven has heard stories about her team members and wanted to write a song about them, and him if he was a member of his mother’s rebellion so, that was how this song came to be.

“If you're evil and you're on the rise

You can count on the four of us taking you down

'Cause we're good and evil never beats us

We'll win the fight and then go out for pizzas

We are the Crystal Gems

We'll always save the day!

And if you think we can't

We'll always find a way!

That's why the people of this world believe in

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl and Steven!”

She laughed in amusement then stopped recording and closed the screen to the video camera, Setting it down so she could upload it to YouTube later on her computer. The man, Greg Universe, looks at his wife walks over to their van, picks up Steven, and kisses his cheek. Steven laughed as the woman spun him around. Her husband smiles, grabs her all-white MacBook, takes out the SD card from the camera, plugs it into the computer, and starts editing it for YouTube.

Steven Quartz Universe has a musical talent from his father, Gregory Universe, and the ability to learn faster than other children from his mother, Rose Quartz Universe.

Greg was only twenty-six years old when he and Rose had Steven. And he couldn’t be any happier, they knew that they had to tie the knot, so in 2001, they got married in Los Angeles Rose’s team — The Crystal Gems were there also for it, Pearl, Rose’s friend (And probably crush) was jealous of her that she was getting married to a rockstar and had a baby with Rose in the process the previous year.

Seven years later, they were happily married and very happy with their son, Steven Quartz Universe who was born on August 15, 2000.

Over time though, He wondered why Steven was not aging like the other kids in his grade were. By the age of one, he still looked a few months old. Rose had an idea of why he wasn’t aging.

Due to her being a gem, she and the other Crystal Gems don’t age. But, no matter what they still loved him no matter what.

Steven looks at his parents.

His mother, Rose Quartz Universe possesses a commanding stature, towering above both her husband and son at an impressive height of approximately eight feet. Her taller and heavier build projects a sense of strength and presence. Her complexion is characterized by pale peach skin that exudes a soft and gentle radiance, complemented by defined pink lips that add a touch of delicacy to her features.

Her mesmerizing appearance is accentuated by bright black eyes that seem to hold a world of depth and mystery within them. Cascading down her shoulders, her long, curly pink hair is meticulously styled in thick ringlets, lending an air of elegance to her overall demeanor. Notably, her unique gemstone is situated where a human navel would typically be found, serving as a distinctive and striking feature that sets her apart.

His father, Greg is a uniquely styled individual, appearing with a plump physique typical of middle-age, yet with a touch of eccentricity in his appearance. His dark-beige beard frames his mouth, contrasting with his taupe hair, which is styled into a mullet cascading down to his waist. Despite his middle-aged plumpness, he maintains a somewhat skinny frame. Notably, Greg sports a full head of hair, adding to the curious juxtaposition of his appearance.

Moreover, he flaunts a tan line gracing his shoulders and feet, hinting at his outdoor ventures. To add a hint of edginess, his look is further accentuated by earring pieces that embellish his overall look with a touch of individuality.

The Video was finished uploading as they went back to their beach house, located in Delaware.

His childhood home. A two-story house elevated on stilts, characteristic of areas prone to flooding or coastal regions. The front of the house is symmetrical, featuring a central door and two windows on each floor. The exterior is painted in white, creating a contrast with the green surroundings of trees and a clear blue sky.

A distinctive feature of the house is its spacious second-story deck, accessible via a staircase from the ground level. This deck wraps around the front and one side of the house, providing ample outdoor space for relaxation or social activities. Beneath the deck, the ground level seems open, likely used for parking or storage purposes, effectively utilizing the house's footprint and offering protection against potential water damage.

They walked inside and Steven smiled and looked around his home.

He looked at a spacious and elegantly designed open-plan living space with a coastal design aesthetic. The room is illuminated by natural light and features a color scheme predominantly consisting of whites and creams, complemented by deep blues and natural wood tones.

In the living area, there is a large, white sofa adorned with stylish throw pillows, creating a cozy and inviting ambiance. Positioned in front of the sofa is a dark wooden coffee table adorned with books and decorative items, adding a touch of sophistication to the space.

Moving towards the left, there is a dining area featuring a simple wooden table surrounded by contemporary chairs, seamlessly connected to the nearby kitchen. The kitchen boasts white cabinetry and a visually striking blue island, topped with elegant white marble, adding a pop of color and a touch of luxury to the room.

Pictures hung on the walls of Greg and Rose’s wedding in California, an acoustic guitar that was signed by Chester Bennington - who was the lead singer for one of their favorite bands LINKIN PARK. Three surfboards lined up the wall. A white one with red roses, A large board bright pink one with hibiscus flowers all over the board which was custom-made for Rose, and the smallest one was light blue with a large white stripe going diagonally.

The room is further enhanced by large windows that offer picturesque views of a water body, enhancing the serene coast.

Steven was now playing on his Nintendo DS in the living room, Rose was cooking dinner as her husband helped her. Steven looks up from his game of Mario. Pausing his game and walking to the kitchen. Steven grabs a chair and stands on it watching his mother. Rose looks over her shoulder.

“Looks like you have a little helper.” Greg smiled and looked at his son.

“What are you guys making?” Steven asked.

“Where making mozzarella sticks,” Rose said Steven’s eyes lit up. He loved mozzarella sticks, and the way his parents made them was amazing!

Rose smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, you don’t need this anymore,” she said, pulling the Band-Aid off his cheek. Steven smiled as he took his finger and felt the soft fuzzy surface, the cut wasn’t there anymore.

He was playing at the beach the previous day. He and his friends Lance and Mikey were playing tag and Steven fell on a rock and scraped his cheek a little bit. He went home then got cleaned up, then he was back to playing again. Rose asked him if she could heal his cheek with her spit but he didn’t want to. Rose respects his boundaries and wishes, so she doesn’t press on.

Rose wondered if he would ever get his gem powers, or maybe it was a possibility that he wouldn’t get them at all. But Steven wants to be like his mother and learn about his gem heritage and culture.

Greg grabs the bowl that was filled with the mozzarella sticks and puts them in the fridge to cool them before frying them. He walked to the sink and washed his hands. He dried them, walked to the couch, and picked up his acoustic guitar that was sitting on a guitar stand. He sat on the couch and began to strum it.

Steven and Rose both smiled. Rose loved her husband’s playing ever since they met at that concert back in 1987. Steven knew the story of how they met. Then they had him — The light of their lives. Steven Quartz Universe.

When Greg heard his full name for the first time, he started tearing up. It was such a beautiful name for such a beautiful, bright, and intelligent boy. And Steven was very intelligent for Seven years old.

But, he does love doing stuff like most kids do, from going to the skatepark to playing video games. And Steven had an active imagination and loved to play pretend with his parents and friends.

Since it was summer vacation and his birthday was in two months, what he wanted to do was visit California and go to a movie/TV studio. Greg and Rose were unsure of this though — Any concerned parent would. But, they wanted to respect Steven’s decision in all of this and be supportive as much as they could throughout his life and moving forward.

An hour passed, and Greg put the cheese sticks in the oven and closed the door. Rose was on her phone texting one of her teammates that she’d fought along the rebellion a long time ago way before she even met Greg. Steven sat on the couch next to her and looked at his mother texting on her iPhone 3G.

“Who are you texting, mom?”

Rose looked from her phone and faced her son. “You remember the Crystal Gems do you?” Rose asks him.

Steven nods.

“They just want to see how I’m doing and if I’m alright.”

“Do you still talk to Pearl, Mom?”

“Yes, I still talk to Pearl, Steven.” she smiled and kissed her son’s cheek.

Steven smiled back. He felt a sense of happiness. Steven then hugs her. Greg pulled out the food from the oven and plated it for the three of them to share. He pulls out the marinara sauce that he’d made, puts it into three individual dipping cups, and puts the sauce inside them. He served it with some Caesar salad and some spaghetti he’d made earlier in the day while Steven was swimming on the beach.

Dishes were put in the dishwasher, Steven was changing into his bathing suit in his room. Rose wore a one-piece swimsuit with a circle in the middle where her gem was exposed. Steven grabbed a towel, walked downstairs, and saw his mother.

Rose and Steven both went outside to the waves and played together.

Greg smiled and walked down the steps of the beach house with his acoustic guitar in his hand. He had his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He sat on the sand and played some notes on his guitar as the sun was beginning to set.

Morning approached Greg and Rose were both asleep in their room, Rose woke up and stretched, her pink messy hair falling on her shoulders.

She got up and did her morning routine. She walks out of her room Rose sees her son playing on his Nintendo GameCube up in his loft bedroom. Steven woke up an hour ago and now he was playing Sonic Heroes.

“Good morning, Steven!” Rose called out to him. Steven paused his game and smiled, he got up from his bed, ran downstairs, and hugged her. Rose smiled and bent down to hug him, Standing at eight feet tall. So he only reached up toward her legs. But he didn’t mind it as much. He still had a lot of growing to do.

“You want to go out for breakfast?”

“Yeah, but what about, Dad?”

“We can wait for him.”

“Or, you can text him.”

Steven nods and pulls out his phone from his pocket then texts him.

Greg walked down the stairs in a black t-shirt and jean shorts. “Let’s go, guys! Rose, you can drive.” her husband said, tossing the keys toward her. Rose caught them one-handed and they walked out of the beach house, Rose unlocked the van and got into it, and Steven opened the passenger side door and crawled into the back, Rose stuck the key in and they went to Washington to a diner in Deleware.

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Steven was reading the menu. Greg was on his phone, Rose looked over his shoulder. “Whatcha doing?” Greg looked at his wife and smiled. “I’m seeing if that video you posted of Steven playing the ukelele got some views.”

Rose’s eyes widen, that video got ten thousand views overnight! “Steven! look,” she said, the seven-year-old looked up at his mother. Rose gave her phone to him and he read the numbers, he looked up with white stars in his pupils as he read the numbers. “Ten. T-Thous-what?!” Steven said in shock and disbelief at what he was reading off her screen.

Rose smiles and nods. “Looks like you are famous my superstar.” Rose smiled softly at him, Steven stood up and sat in her lap. Rose felt his warmth and wrapped her arm around his body softly, Steven felt happy at the moment that he saw his video of him playing the ukelele and singing had gone viral on YouTube!

Rose got a text notification, she pulled it out of her shorts pocket and pressed the button to unlock her iPhone 3G.

She sees the lock screen of her iPhone. It features a background showing her, Steven, and her husband. Standing at his car wash The lock screen displays the time as 9:29 AM on Monday, June 17. Notably, there is a text message notification from a contact named “Christopher,” Rose read the message content; Can Lucas come over today, or is it a bad time, Mrs. Universe? Additionally, there is a slider at the bottom prompting her to "slide to reply.” Rose slid to reply to the message.

“Mom? Who are you texting?”

“You remember your friend, Lucas? his father asked if he could come over.”

“Please, mom? can he?” her son begged. Rose giggled and patted his curly hair. “Sure he can, Steven. Your friends are always welcome.” Steven smiled as he sat up and hugged his mother’s neck. Greg smiled then put a hand on his black fluffy, curly hair

Rose texts him back, saying that he can come over. Steven wanted to jump for joy, but he sat still and kept calm. Rose saw a teen walking up to them, she wore a black apron and her brown hair was in a ponytail.

“Hello, are you ready to order?” she asked with a smile on her face, Steven smiled and looked at her.

“Can I have the chocolate chip pancakes?” he asked. The teen recognized the boy instantly and smiled.

“Hey! I saw the video of your son yesterday after my shift, he’s very talented with that ukulele.”

“Thank you!” Steven said.

“Thank you so much, miss. He is incredibly talented.” Greg smiled

“He is very talented. Who does he get it from?”

“He gets it from me.”

“And he picks up things very fast from me.” Rose smiled. Steven looks around the restaurant.

“I hope your son gets a job as a singer or an actor one day, you're going places. Say,” she knelt to his level.

“What’s your name?”

“Steven,” he said.

“Well, Steven. I hope to see your face in movies and TV one day, and if you do. Don’t forget about who helped you achieve your dreams.”

Steven smiles at her. “I won’t! what’s your name?”

“Pearl.”

“Oh, that’s funny. I have a friend named Pearl.” Rose chuckled.

“That’s awesome,” she said. “Are you ready to order?"

“We will have the scrambled eggs with bacon and this little guy will have the chocolate chip pancakes,” Greg said, passing the menus towards Pearl so she could collect them, Pearl wrote everything down on her notepad, then collected the menus. “Are you okay with water?”

“Do you have a strawberry milkshake?” Rose asked.

Pearl nods. “We do.”

“Mom, can I have one too?” Steven asked.

Rose nods. “Okay, what kind? we have chocolate, vanilla, Oreo, and strawberry.” Pearl asked him.

“Um, may I have Oreo?” he asked. Pearl smiled and wrote it on her notepad.

“Alright, I will put these in so you guys can get your breakfast.” Pearl smiled and walked off.

Rose turned on her phone and she played a game. Greg went on his and dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of earbuds. He looked at Steven.

“Steven, do you want to listen to some music with me?” Steven nods happily. Greg gave him the left earbud. He grabbed it and he went into his music and played a song. It was called ‘All The Small Things’ by ‘Blink-182, one of their favorite bands. Rose looked at them and wanted to take a picture of them.

Maybe when Pearl comes back with our food I can ask her to take a picture of us.

Rose saw her walk up with their drinks. “Here you go, guys,” Pearl said setting down their milkshakes and orange juice. “Thank you, oh, can you take a picture of us?” she asked, pressing the home button and going to the camera app.

“I can,” Pearl said, as she took the photo and handed her phone back to Rose. Rose saw them and smiled. “This is so cute. thank you.” she smiles.

Pearl nods. “I’ll be back with your breakfast,” she said walking off. Steven tapped his mom on the arm.

“Mom, can I get down?” Steven asked, pulling the earbud off his ear and letting it hang off from the floor.

Rose nods as she sets Steven off her lap and onto the floor.

The boy walked towards his chair and tried to get on so he could sit, but he was too short and tiny. Rose saw that his son was struggling so she helped him up.

“Thank you,” Steven said, Rose smiled and kissed his head.

Just then, A boy and his father walked in, Greg looked at them and smiled

He sees a younger man, with a happy expression. He has short, neatly styled hair and clear skin. He is looking directly at his son. His overall appearance seems clean and well-maintained. Additionally, he is wearing a small earring in one ear, adding a subtle touch of style or personal expression to his look. The plain and out-of-focus background serves to highlight his face and features, making him the central focus.

The boy standing next to his father is depicted as a cheerful and happy child with dark brown skin. He is wearing a blue short-sleeve T-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of white Converse sneakers and has shoulder-length dreadlocks.

“Greg, Rose, how are you two!” the man — Christopher, or Cris asked the couple.

“We're good, I’m glad that you came. Greg said, hugging the man. Rose looked at his son.

“Hi, Lucas.” she smiled.

“Hi, Rose. you look pretty today.”

“Aw, thank you, Lucas.” She smiled. he then turned to Steven.

“Hi, Steven!”

“Hi!” he smiled, Lucas went toward him and gave him a high five. “Steven! Where matching!” Lucas smiled, looking at Steven’s blue T-shirt which was a little bit too big for him.

Lucas knows that he won’t grow normally like other kids, but he doesn’t care. Their still friends.

Steven and Lucas both met at school in September two years ago when Steven was in first grade. Lucas had changed schools in Delaware. Steven already had no friends because of the way he looked at others. One boy asked if there was something wrong with him or if he had a disability.

And someone even asked Lucas, in front of him ‘Why do you hang out with that baby?’ Lucas was so angry at this and wanted to kick him in the leg. But Steven told him to let it go and went to play Pokémon with him on his GameBoy.

“Hey, Steven,” Lucas said.

“Hi!” he said happily.

“What’s up? we're going to have so much fun together” Lucas said. Steven smiles and hugs his friend. Just then, Pearl walked back to their table with their food.

“Here you go, guys,” Pearl said, handing them their breakfast. Steven smiled and unrolled his napkin revealing a fork and knife and eating his pancakes. Christopher smiled and put a hand on his son’s head.

“Okay, Lucas. I’m off to work now. Have fun with Steven, your momma will pick you up. I have to work late tonight.” he told his son, Locas nods

“Okay, bye Dad!” he said, seeing him walk out of the diner.

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Steven, Lucas, Greg, and Rose went to the arcade when they went back and played some games, Lucas and Steven went to ski ball while Greg and Rose were on the racing simulators. The owner of the arcade—Mr. Thomas was pleased to see them having fun. He smiled and watched them, Despite that Greg’s wife was an alien. He didn’t care he was happy to see a person or alien, having fun.

Mr. Thomas was standing not too far away, attending the prize booth. He appeared to be in his thirties, with short light brown hair. He is wearing a checkered shirt with colors that include red, blue, and white. He also wore blue jeans and Vans on his feet. He also had a welcoming smile on his face.

“Hey, Steven!” Mr. Thomas said walking up towards the boy. Steven smiled and looked at the man.

“Hi, Mr. Thomas,” he said. He smiled at the boy and knelt to his level.

“Hello, Steven! I heard that your birthday is in two months, are ya doing anything fun?” Steven wanted to go to LA for his birthday and meet his mom’s friends who also lived there. He was excited for his birthday. He was turning eight years old. He loved his birthday a lot, hopefully, this one will be special for him. Steven smiled and continued to play ski ball with Lucas. They hoped they would never separate.

Steven was now in his bedroom, it was ten o’clock PM, and he was playing Super Mario Sunshine. Rose walked upstairs to his loft bedroom. Steven looks at his mom, she wearing her Mr. Universe T-shirt and long pants. “Hey, mom,” he said, still playing.

“Hi, Steven,” she said, the boy smiled, Rose sat on the bed, Steven paused the game and hugged her, feeling the warmth of his mother could put him to sleep. Steven yawned as he hugged her tighter, Rose smiled and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Steven.”She whispers, covering him up with the white puffy comforter.

Rose walked downstairs and into her and Greg’s room. Greg was on his laptop. His wife walked to her side of the bed and went in, he looked at her and smiled lovingly at her. “I love you, Rose.”

“I love you too, Greg,” she said, kissing her husband on the cheek. Greg smiled, closed his laptop, and put it beside him. Rose got comfortable and they both went to sleep

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A/N: hi guys! I hope you all enjoyed this fanfic as much as I did. I love making stuff like this. I thought of a Steven Universe Actors AU for a while now. I started writing this three days to come up with, I hope you guys review this it’ll mean a lot to me if you do.

[satansapostle6]

Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Delicate

Lorelei Morrigan had no idea what she was to do about Draco’s rather unpleasant disposition. Although his moodiness wasn’t necessarily appreciated, Lorelei definitely empathized with his reasons. So, most days, Lorelei stood by him faithfully as he instead upon making his problems everyone else’s as well. Today, aside from the usual potential doom, one of Draco’s main grievances was the fact that the new old Potions Master, Professor Slughorn, favored Harry over him.

Lorelei truthfully had no idea why Draco even valued the old man’s opinion, but something told her he didn’t actually. He just wanted to be liked more than Harry, by at least one person who seemed to somewhat matter. He also wanted to feel valued, and in control, something which Lorelei understood all too well. She did her best not to take Draco’s occasional lack of appreciation for her feelings toward him personally.

After all, his father was in prison, his entire family was in jeopardy, and Lord Voldemort was forcing him to kill his own Headmaster, which he also had to quit playing Quidditch for. He had his own issues to worry about. Lorelei was doing the best she could to help him with the plan to kill Albus Dumbledore, and keep Draco Malfoy pacified in the meantime. Unfortunately, Horace Slughorn did not share the same goal.

Today, Draco found himself in a particularly foul mood when he began to take notice of the fact that Professor Slughorn seemed to take an interest in Draco’s own girlfriend before him. This did not bode well for his fragile ego.

“Let’s see… Miss Morrigan!”

Lorelei looked up from her potion that she was brewing, as Draco also looked up curiously beside her.

“Fifteen points to Slytherin if you can correctly guess each of these mystery brews by smell alone!” Professor Slughorn declared cheerfully as he displayed three black vials hanging from the rack at his desk.

Lorelei glanced at Draco before slowly approaching the front of the classroom, as the rest of the class watched her with envy, Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger in particular. Unbothered with their opinions, Lorelei picked the first of the glass vials, carefully uncorking it as she sniffed its contents. She smelled oddly specific notes of Draco’s cologne, roses, and apple pie.

“That’s Amortentia,” Lorelei said with ease.

“Very good!” the professor encouraged her.

She picked the second potion up off the rack, uncorking and sniffing. The smell was sharp and distinct.

“That’s bloodroot poison, that is,” she told him.

“Correct again!” Professor Slughorn commended her excitedly. “One more…”

Pansy Parkinson’s eye roll was noticeable even from across the room. Lorelei ignored everyone, taking the last potion and examining it. She took a moment to think, somewhat surprised by the oddly familiar sweet smell.

“…Pumpkin juice, sir,” she finally.

Professor Slughorn laughed cheerfully as he applauded her. “Well done! Fifteen points to Slytherin!”

“Attention whore,” Pansy scoffed.

“Regular whore,” Blaise chimed in with a smirk.

Pansy gasped in disbelief, clutching her non- existent pearls.

“Show-off,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

Lorelei stood at the front of the room, smiling emptily as the class finished lightly applauding her out of politeness. Slughorn, it seemed, was determined to keep her.

“Very good with potions you are, Miss Morrigan,” he remarked.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I remember your mother was quite gifted with potions as well,” he continued on, “One of my favorites, she was. Always came to class with the same peacock quill… She was glamorous even then,” he laughed humorously.

“I’m sure she was,” Lorelei said.

She could feel Draco watching, waiting for her to return to him. She also found herself waiting.

“Say, Lorelei… Did your mother ever mention the old ‘Slug Club’?” the professor asked curiously.

She had to think for a moment.

“I think she mentioned it. She used to attend your dinners, right?” Lorelei asked him.

“Yes, precisely,” Slughorn nodded, “You know… Just a secret between us, I’m considering starting them up again. For old times’ sake, you know?”

“That… sounds like a wonderful idea,” she lied.

“Say… would you be interested in joining? I could use a witty personality like yours,” Slughorn teased.

Lorelei thought for a moment, looking around the room. She stopped when she realized the one person she knew Slughorn was bound to invite: Harry. One of the two people she knew were onto her and Draco. Lorelei was no more keen on the idea of going alone all year to private dinner parties being held by Horace Slughorn, but of course, sacrifices had to be made. She put on the most phony, toothy smile she could.

“I’d love to, sir,” she responded. “You’re welcome to send an owl, if anything.”

“Oh, superb! I’d love the chance to pick your brain, you know,” Slughorn thought. “You really are one of the most promising students of your year, from what I’ve seen so far. Forgive me for asking, but have you any idea what you’d like to do after Hogwarts?” he inquired with curiosity.

“It’s no problem at all,” Lorelei smiled. “I’m hoping to become a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts.”

“A Curse-Breaker!” he exclaimed. “My, oh, my, someone’s got their father’s ambition! Have you made any inquiries?”

“Lucius Malfoy wrote a letter for me, not too far back.”

“Ah, yes,” Slughorn thought, “Before that unfortunate business at the Ministry…”

Lorelei just nodded, saying nothing.

“You know, Lorelei, I can think of at least three former students of mine I still keep in touch with who have got some job or other at Gringotts. Some of which are on the executive level, you see… I could have another letter written for you, if you like. To refresh their memories, and whatnot.”

“That would be very generous of you, Professor,” Lorelei replied.

“Of course. Anything to help my students succeed,” Professor Slughorn nodded. “I do believe you’ve got the potential for quite the career someday.”

“That’s the goal,” she offered.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t but… might I ask if the rumors are true?”

“Which rumors?” Lorelei asked quietly.

Professor Slughorn couldn’t contain his secretive grin. “Are you really descended from the Ravenclaws?”

Lorelei just smiled. “We are, yes.”

“How scandalous!” Slughorn whispered. “I knew the rumors about Helena Ravenclaw’s illegitimate child had to be true!”

Slughorn was insatiable when it came to elitist gossip. He’d hardly had enough when Lorelei returned to her workstation. Draco seemed more than enthusiastic about his own work when she returned. She sensed his annoyance right away.

“Is something wrong?” she raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Draco lied pointedly.

Lorelei frowned as she watched him obviously struggling to skin his fish.

“Do you want some help with that?” she asked coldly.

Draco was beyond irritable.

“No, I’ve got plenty of potential of my own, thanks.”

Lorelei dropped her own paring knife as she turned to look at Draco, who was still fixed on the ingredients he was separating.

“Draco.”

“Lorelei,” he looked up, still refusing to admit his pettiness.

“You know I want nothing to do with that man’s circus of freaks,” she whispered, “But I think Harry’s trying to infiltrate, and we need to know what he knows.”

Draco stared at her with condescension, not accepting her reasoning, for some odd reason.

“Right,” he said sarcastically, “You need what Potter knows.”

Lorelei frowned as she studied him, refusing to believe the fight he was choosing to pick.

“Seriously? That’s what you think is happening here?”

Everyone began to grab their things and file out of the classroom the moment class ended. Draco left automatically, and Lorelei followed him out in the hall, realizing this was how she’d be spending her afternoon. The two of them ducked into a more secluded corner in the corridor, accepting that they were now in a full blown fight.

“I don't know what’s happening here,” Draco Malfoy argued, looking at her angrily. “All I know is, you seem to have no problem letting everyone see how much potential Slughorn thinks you have, while you’re trying to go to dinner parties with him and Potter!” he exclaimed, seeming thoroughly disgusted by the idea.

Lorelei was furious.

“What the fuck, Draco, do you really think that’s what I’m doing?! Do you really think that’s what I want?!”

He seemed completely fed up. “I don’t know what you want anymore!”

Lorelei let out a dismissive scoff as she heard how baseless his grievance against her was. The two of them looked at each other with animalistic rage in their eyes, until they both turned to find someone watching them from afar. Harry Potter’s eyes widened as he saw the two of them glance in his direction, racing off to join his friends. Lorelei turned back to Draco, urgency in her eyes as she realized, at the very least, he had discovered reasonable cause for suspicion.

But Draco didn’t seem quite as focused as she was.

“After all we’ve been through, do you seriously think Potter could come between us?” she asked him.

Draco glanced down at his feet for a moment.

“I don't know. You never take my side,” he hissed.

She was absolutely dumbfounded by this idea, unable to comprehend at all.

“What are you talking about?!” she whispered. “I have always been on your side!”

“Then why didn’t you kill Potter before he landed my father in Azkaban?!” Draco questioned, pain in his pale blue eyes. “Why did you let Theodore Nott walk away unscathed, after everything he did to us, to you!”

Lorelei stopped for a moment, not having known at all that that was how Draco had felt.

“Oh, Draco,” she breathed, tears in her eyes as she knew there was no easy answer.

Draco just stood there, months of pain and suffering in his eyes as he swallowed his guilt for all the grief he’d caused her.

“All the worst moments of my life, you did nothing!”

“Draco, that’s not fair—”

“You’re supposed to be on my side! My side!” he exclaimed in defeat. “You say you’d do anything for me, but given the opportunity, you did nothing! You let me sit in classes with the bloke who sent my father to Azkaban, and the bloke who wants to steal you from me! And you’re the one person in the world I can trust with everything. You’re the one person I can talk to. You’re all I have left!”

“Okay, and what do you think you are to me?!” Lorelei shouted at him.

Draco said nothing as she began to fall apart.

“I had to kill two people, two living, breathing people, with families who loved them, and my parents did nothing!” Lorelei wailed.

She felt herself bursting into tears, and it felt as if her entire soul was pouring out of her body.

“The Dark Lord forced me to join him, before you ever joined, and they just stood by and watched! I watched the one man who ever cared for me die, and my parents were gone without even a letter!” Lorelei sobbed. “I truly have no one except for you!”

In all his guilt and regret, Draco froze as he looked up behind Lorelei. She whipped around quickly, going pale as she saw Professor Slughorn standing awkwardly behind her, trying to slip by unnoticed. Evidently, he did not make it out of the dungeons.

“Sorry,” the professor said softly, “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

The two of them watched him quickly scurrying away, unsure of what to make of the encounter. Draco turned to look at Lorelei once Slughorn was out of earshot.

“We need to do something about that,” he said automatically.

Lorelei shook her head. “No.”

“‘No’?” Draco Malfoy demanded, terrified.

“I’m tired of helping you when all you do is take me for granted,” Lorelei let out a humorous laugh, wiping away her tears, “Figure this one out yourself.”

She turned and walked away, leaving him alone in the dungeons as she retreated to the dorms. Lorelei silently slipped into the Slytherin common room, hoping to go unnoticed as she headed for her room. But unfortunately, Lorelei Morrigan never went unnoticed. Daphne and Pansy were both sitting by the fire, and looked up to see Lorelei immediately.

“Lorelei,” Pansy sneered, far too smug for this time of day. “What are you doing back in the dorms?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I happen to be Head Girl!” Pansy argued boastfully.

“Would you like a cookie?” Lorelei demanded.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pansy Parkinson asked her. “You and Draco have a fight?”

Lorelei was livid, especially considering that Pansy asked the same question every single time Lorelei looked even remotely unhappy, and just happened to hit a nerve this time.

“You might as well just accept that Draco was never going to end up with a ginger,” Pansy told her arrogantly.

“You might as well just accept that he’ll never end up with a talentless rat,” Lorelei supplied, before storming off to her room.

Daphne just gave Pansy an indifferent look, unsure of what she’d expected.

*****

Lorelei spent the rest of her day hidden away in her dorm room, not in the mood to go to any of her classes. She ended up sitting in bed and redoing her makeup, trying her best to forget the outside world. Eventually, toward the end of the school day, she heard a soft knock on her door.

“Ugh,” Lorelei scoffed, “Go away!”

Whoever was at the door completely disregarded her irritability, opening the door and letting themselves in.

“Hey,” Blaise Zabini said pointedly, closing the door behind him.

Lorelei sighed as she set her mirror back down on her bedside table, putting away her lip gloss.

“I take it you’ve been informed?” she assumed.

“I know everything, Lorelei,” Blaise promised as he sat down.

“Then you know that I’m not in the mood.”

“Please, I have standards,” he said sarcastically.

Lorelei smiled involuntarily.

“Draco didn’t send me,” Blaise assured her.

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I thought I’d check on you,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re one of my few friends, you know.”

“Am I?” she wondered.

Blaise smiled. “Truthfully, I was just subjected to Pansy’s face in the hall, and I thought I owed some inspiration to the one person in the world with the power to humble her. Enemy of my least favorite slag, or whatever.”

Lorelei raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a favorite slag?”

Blaise shrugged coyly, grinning. “I have a few.”

“Thank you,” Lorelei said finally.

“For what, exactly?” he inquired.

“For not prying, or trying to sway me, one way or the other,” she said softly, genuinely surprised.

Blaise just shrugged indifferently. “You know how you feel. You don’t need me telling you.”

Lorelei just smiled. “Going anywhere?”

He shook his head. “No. I have nowhere to be.”

“Good,” she smiled, allowing him some room as they sat and talked.

Eventually, the door opened, and Draco entered the room. He saw Blaise, greeting him silently as Blaise just nodded back.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Blaise told Lorelei, as he left the room.

Lorelei got up, crossing her arms as she waited for Draco to say his piece.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said finally, “For a lot of things.”

“Like what?” Lorelei asked quietly.

“I… Lashed out at you, for no reason. I blamed you for all of my problems, when all you ever did was try to help,” Draco provided, admitting his fault. “I said a lot of unfair things to you, and I’m very, very sorry. I feel awful for what I said to you.”

Lorelei looked up at him still with that raw, teary look in her eyes as he gently cupped her face in his hands, like a crystal ball he was afraid of shattering. She looked into his eyes, and saw the same sadness in hers.

“I shouldn’t have hurt you, Lorelei,” he whispered, a guilty expression on his face as he fought tears. “I shouldn’t have hurt you…”

“It’s okay,” she promised him, unable to struggle against his fearful, shaky hands, “It’s okay…”

Draco broke out into tears as he rested his head on her shoulder, hands carefully running through her long auburn locks for comfort.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, distraught.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re here now.”

“I don’t like who I’m becoming,” Draco whispered through sobs, still feeling the burn on his left forearm.

-

Chapter Twenty-Eight

[asunshinepuff]

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter three! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves.

Especially since this chapter includes some of her own ocs in addition to my own! There’s a lot of new faces to join us! All credit for creation goes to each other for our respective characters because we’ve both worked so hard to create our ocs and I wouldn’t dare want to take credit away from her.

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however, it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter!

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy!

If you’ve missed any chapters here’s the link to the masterlist for this story Secrets of the Darkened Seas 🧜🏻‍♀️

Small warning at the start here, there is a minor character death included in this chapter.

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Chapter 3: A Sea of Fireworks

Three years passed as The Dragon’s Pearl sailed the seven seas. There had been many fierce battles and grand adventures as Remus learned the ways of the sword from both Captain Hua and First mate Sandoval. During the past few years, Remus found a particular fondness for literature that grew further than when he was younger. Along the way, there have been many new companions to join the shipmates, and the secrets of a certain young man were revealed. A year on his own at sea taught Remus many things, but he couldn’t help but miss the company of those upon The Dragons’ Pearl. 

Now at seventeen summers old, the once young boy has grown into a fine young man. 

Under the sea, there was a mythical creature with bright shimmering amber scales, varying in shades of accent tones from the top of his tail, to his fluke. The moonlight breached the surface of the darkened sea, the light reflected off of his amber eyes, as if they began to shine and glow under the moon’s pale beauty. His medium length tawny colored hair flowed around him in the cool waters. The mer turned down before his arms moved forwards as he dived down deeper into the sea. The deeper he went, the darker it became. 

As he reached the seafloor, he swam at a leisurely pace, brushing a clawed hand against the seagrass. Looking up, the seagrass became littered with life, crabs, small, fish, seahorses, an octopus, and coral. He chuckled to himself as the fish scattered when he swam near them, a green sea turtle by his side seemed to follow him, wherever he went. It had felt too long since he had last been in the sea. 

Remus’ head turned sharply upwards as he picked up the sound of a muffled screeching noise coming from the surface. Then a muted bang before a flash of scattered gold light. With a strong flick of his tail, the floor beneath him vanished from sight as he neared the surface. 

Breaching from the water, he looks up to the familiar ship with concern, “Opal! What’s happening?!” He yells up to the deck. 

In an instant, a tall beautiful greek woman, around the age of twenty-three, with long light brown hair, hazel green eyes, lightly tanned skin peered over the railing of the deck to respond. She was dressed in a sea-blue off the shoulder long-sleeved shirt that was tucked into her light brown pants, with a black corset vest on top, and black boots. At her hip was a wide sword with a dark blue sheath, and its hilt had the detailing of a trident. 

“Min-Jun received a letter! We have to make port in Portland! The Blacks and Greyback were spotted off the coast of Dorset!” She lowers the rope ladder and opens the small gate, “Get your tail up here!”

Remus catches the ladder with ease and pulls himself up onto it, “What’s the sudden hurry? We’re currently off the coast of Dorset ourselves.” He comments, looking back up to his friend. 

“Quinn’s family lives in Portland, he thinks they’ll be going after them!” Opal replies, tossing down a blanket for Remus to dry his scales with.

Remus winces as the blanket lands upon his head, frowning as it blocks his view. Pulling the soft cloth from his head, he sets to work on drying himself and his scales, “But why would they go after his family?” He yells out. 

Opal pauses, a somber look upon her face as she watches Remus make his way up the rope ladder with his two legs, scales now nowhere to be seen. She shakes her head as he reaches the deck, “I don’t know. But I think something’s wrong.”

Two-quarters of an hour pass with The Dragon’s Pearl sailing at full speed to Portland. The sea seemed to be at their side that night, the sound of cannon fire reached the members of the crew. The lifeboats were lowered with First mate Sandoval and Remus inside one of the boats. 

Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the pitch-black sails of The Ophiuchus which could barely be seen from a distance. The ship’s colors had a black flag with a white skull with a snake coming out of an eye socket. The Blacks. The ancient pirate ship passed down from generation to generation of Blacks. Rumors and tales continuously traveled from sailors aboard many ships about the family, the ship gaining the nickname of Grimmauld amongst the gossiping sailors. Remus had heard many tales himself in the past. 

The Blacks were ruthless in their pliage for gold, leaving no survivors. There were tales of The Ophiuchus battling The Dragon’s Pearl when Captain Orion Black attempted to steal the other Captain’s ship. Although Captain Hua was young, he forced the Blacks to flee when their ship suffered too much damage. The Captain of The Dragon’s Pearl had given them a warning years ago that should he ever see them again, he would kill the Captain of The Ophiuchus.

The boats reached the docks before everyone ran up to the small town of Portland. Quinn cut down any pirate who foolishly stood in his way. Remus followed close behind, sword drawn at the ready, and cut down any pirate who tried to go after Quinn whilst the man’s back was turned. Remus had grown used to the occasional battle, but hardly ever were the stakes this high. Opal and Captain Hua had stayed on the ship with a skeleton crew, while the other sailors joined Remus and Quinn to shore. 

Remus stopped in his tracks when one of the pirates was running straight for him. With the sword in his hand, Remus quickly stabbed the pirate in the abdomen before pulling his sword free and running to catch up with Quinn. Who was running up a hill towards the Lighthouse faster than Remus had ever seen the man move. 

Up close the lighthouse was rather beautiful for its old age, time had been kind to it, yet the years have clearly made their marks all throughout the house. The lighthouse more than likely had many stories to tell. Standing tall with red and white patterns, a small quaint cottage at the base of the lighthouse became visible as Remus neared the property. The house was alight with shadows dancing across the windows as pirates breached the door, the sound of clanging swords could be heard coming from inside the house. Quinn cut down pirates until he finally managed to enter the house. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he surveyed the state of the house, there were countless pirates from both the Black’s and Greyback’s sailors engaged in sword fights. There was hardly a break as he entered the fray of battle, cutting down unsuspecting men from behind and never letting his guard down.

A middle-aged woman with black hair tied into a messy bun, bright brown eyes, fair skin, and rosy lips gripped the rapier in her hand tightly as she slashed down another pirate. She twirled expertly, her white nightgown and dark robe twirling with her, to dodge a blow from another pirate before she stabs them, she pulls the sword free before she raises it to the man who just entered the cottage, freezing as her eyes widen in surprise. “Quinn!” She exclaimed before her eyes darted to a pirate behind him who began to stir awake. 

He smiles at the exclamation before following her line of sight, turning behind him he sees the pirate that began to stir awake. Flipping the hilt of his sword in hand, he stabs the newly conscious pirate in the chest before turning back to the woman, “Mother are you alright?” He looked over the cottage, objects just laying scatter on the floor before he looked back to his mother. 

“I’m perfectly alright, it’s your father I’m worried about, that blasted Greyback cornered him to the basement!” The woman turned her gaze to the young man who just reached the door, quickly assessing him before offering him a small nod. “And you must be Remus.”  

Remus nods in return, “I am. How did you-” He cuts himself off as the answer was obvious and gives his First mate a pointed look, “Quinn. You’ve told them about me haven’t you?”

“Remus. Who do you take me for? Of course, I did.” Quinn mirrors the same pointed look back, “How else do you think Min-Jun and I were able to help you as a child?” He looks back to his mother, “We better move quickly. Hopefully, father is using the basement to his advantage.”

“Quinn, this is your father, of course, he is.” The woman turns to a door that leads to a staircase to the basement. Quickly lifting her skirt the woman rushed down the stairs. 

The three rush down the stairs and into the large dimly lit basement, which could only be described as a very large study with storage. Bookshelves lined the walls and the shelves themselves were stacked with a variety of mythical things one would only believe to be within the tales. Color bottles and vials littered the shelves of the room, various plants were in every corner of the room. In the center of the basement, a large man with a cutlass scoured the room with a harsh glare for the man who was hiding. 

The man wielding the cutlass was large, nearly the height of Min-Jun and Quinn, he had a vicious looking face, with very long matted grey hair in dreads, a scar going across his right eye, the iris pale compared to its twin which was pitch black. His left ear had a gold hoop earring, his teeth were visible as he sneered at others who interrupted his dual. 

Remus’ eyes could only widen as he looked upon the large man, his breathing quickening and grip tightening on his sword. Every part of him grew defensive and fearful, his instincts screaming at him to get out. To run. He’s heard of this man before, Fenrir Greyback, a notorious and ruthless hunter of mers alike, capturing and selling mers for profit, or simply to just experiment on them. Other times he’d simply slaughter any merfolk he could find.

Greyback’s knuckles looked raw and battered with blood as he gripped his weapon tightly, his long yellowish nails were easily spotted as his right hand pressed against his chest, a wound with fresh blood seeping through his grey shirt. “This isn’t over.” He snarled before he ran out the basement door. 

Hidden behind a bookcase, was a middle-aged man with tousled red-brown hair with long bangs parted to the left, light-colored skin, and blue eyes. He wore a simple navy blue shirt underneath a grey robe, light brown pants, and dark brown boots. Eyes trained as he watched the burly man closely, sword drawn at the ready to continue the duel. He made no motion to move as Greyback snarled in warning, back pressed flush against the wood until he could hear the pounding footsteps a safe distance away. 

Relaxing marginally, he exits his retreat behind the bookcase and sighs, “That man is repulsive.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re not wrong about that father.” Quinn chuckles as he gently pats his father’s shoulder. 

“Why would Greyback come all the way out here? Why would he attack you?” Remus looked at the older man.

“Probably because my husband has something he wants.” The older woman looks to her husband. “Are you alright?”  

The older man looks to his wife and nods, “I’m alright. If anything Greyback’s in much worse shape. That wound is going to leave quite a scar if untreated.”

“What was he after?” Remus looked between the older couple. 

“Something no one should know exists.” The woman looked around the room. Muttering under her breath at the state of the room. “But rumors are a powerful thing, especially when they hold truths.” 

“And especially if it makes you incredibly well known in the nautical world.” The man continued with a sigh. Moving aside his robe, he pulls free a rather thick leather book from an inner pocket and looks down at it. “He’d be a fool to think I’d just leave it lying about.”

Remus’ eyes looked over the leather book. At first glance, it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Remus knew better than to judge a book by its cover. It was what’s inside the book that Greyback took a slash to the chest in order to obtain. And failed. Whatever information that was contained inside the book was important. Why else would such a siege upon this small home occur? Enough to bring both Greyback and the Blacks themselves here. 

“This book is the only one in existence.”  The woman looked at Remus as she stood beside her husband. “It’s about your kind.” Gently taking the book from her husbands’ hands, she holds the book to Remus. “My husband wrote everything he learned about the magical creatures of the sea.” She smiles as she encourages Remus to take the book. 

“About my kind…” He repeats at a whisper before a realization comes to mind, amber eyes widening at the thought, “That’s why he wanted the book. To hunt more merfolk.” A cold shudder runs down his spine at the thought of Greyback getting his hands upon this book. No wonder the older man fought to protect it with his life. Mers alike would be in even more danger than in the past. And after seeing the man in person, Remus felt as though the rumors didn’t give any accurate insight as to how gruesome the pirate actually appeared, and the snarling tone of his voice would most likely echo in his mind for days. 

At the older man’s nod in confirmation, he looked back at him. “How long have you been working on this?” Remus asked as he took the book, with careful hands.

“Many years. I was a bit younger than you when I first started writing the beginning pages.”

Remus looks down to the worn leather book and opens to a well-kept page, Fantastic Nautical Creatures, by Newt Scamander. Remus’ eyes widen at the title and familiar name, pausing mid-turn of a page. Wait. Remus looks at Quinn with wide eyes, before he looks back to the older couple. 

“You’re Newt Scamander,” He looks to the woman, “And you’re Porpetina Scamander!” 

“Please, call me Tina dear.” She rubs Remus’ arm in a comforting manner. 

Remus looks to Quinn, an unreadable expression upon his face. Quinn had called them mother and father. That means… “You’re their son?!” 

“Quinton Scamander is my real name,” Quinn answered with a simple shrug. “Sandoval was the first thing I could come up with when you asked for my name. I’m not exactly used to keeping an alias.” He looks at his parents. “Why couldn’t you have just kept it at Quinn?” 

“And leave the Scamander tradition of giving horrible names? I couldn’t possibly.” Tina chuckled.

“Oh, you wound me, mother. What a way to keep tradition.” Quinn replies with a wince. 

“It’s not like my family did any better.” Tina retorts just as the sound of cannon fire boomed, echoing throughout the basement. Tensing, everyone turned their heads to the back door, and with a nod from Newt, they exited the damaged basement and headed to the cliffs.

As the group ran back towards the shoreline, Remus could see The Dragon’s Pearl exchanging cannon fire with The Ophiuchus. The ships both suffered blows from the other, only the Dragon’s Pearl wasn’t on fire. And what appeared to be Min-Jun, swinging on a rope, from the Ophiuchus back to the Dragon’s Pearl.

Quinn only groaned at the sight. “And he gives me lectures about swinging from a rope.” Hypocrite. “Why are you like this…” He mumbled under his breath.

Tina and Newt only chuckled as their son scowled at the captain. They ran to the docks just as the Ophiuchus began to make their retreat, and the Dragon’s Pearl making its way to the loading docks. Opal was the first rush down to welcome Quinn and Remus back. 

Quinn had a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t place as he looked over Opal. Relieved that the woman wasn’t injured in the crossfire, although he was well aware that she could easily handle herself. “Ti synévi?�� What happened? he had asked.

“To shorten it: Min-Jun snuck onto Greyback’s ship and found two gorgónes. Mermaids. Brought them back to The Dragon’s Pearl, then snuck onto the Ophiuchus, rescued the second Black heir and brought him back as well.” Opal said with a shake of her head, “How that was possible, I have no idea.” 

“Sounds about right,�� Newt replied with a chuckle.

The older couple looked at their son, who had never told them he learned and spoke greek. Newt and Tina looked at each other before sharing a knowing smile. Tina looked to the woman with the greek accent. “I’m Tina Scamander, Quinn’s mother. I wonder why my dear son would fail to mention a lovely lady such as yourself in his letters?” She turns her head slowly to glare at Quinn, who found the sea far more interesting at the moment. Tina looked back to the young woman. “What is your name dear?” 

Opal watched Quinn’s gaze quickly turn to the sea in embarrassment. Oh this awkward man. She fought the urge to tease the poor man, there was time to mess with him another time. Not in front of his parents. She smiled as she looked at Tina. “Opal Teresi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Remus looked to Quinn with a teasing smirk, “Really? You mention me in your letters but not Opal?” 

“Shut. Up.” Quinn says with wide eyes that seemed to promise pain with an unnaturally wide smile.

“You’ll have to write to me dear, Quinn hardly ever writes what’s going on in his life. I have to rely on Min-Jun for that.” She tsks she pats Opal’s hand affectionately.  

“I will,” Opal replies with a nod. 

“May I see them?” Newt asks the young woman. “The mermaids.” 

The young woman pauses for a moment and looks to Newt, “They’re terrified, so please. If there’s any way you could help.”

“Maybe I can get them to calm down?” Remus suggests looking to Opal and Newt. 

“That may be for the best.” Opal agrees, “We better hurry, Min-Jun wants to leave as soon as possible. Before the Blacks notice their son is missing.”  

Opal leads the group to the cabins, walking past many doors until they finally stop at one door with a circular window. Remus peered inside and froze when a pair of glaring eyes locked to his. Inside the room, there was a tall beautiful Asian woman with wet long dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, and bright red lips. She looked to be about Opal’s age. Her tail was a dazzling array of soft blue scales that looked like misshapen spots, with white scales as the base, her fluke was nearly a translucent shimmery white. Her skin was pale, her arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller mer. Her tail coiled around them protectively. Remus nearly gasped. The mermaid only clutched the child tighter, her glare never leaving Remus’ face.

The mer in her arms was tiny. A child, who couldn’t have been older than four. The mer child had short soft silky black hair that was in disarray, brown eyes, light sun-kissed skin. The child clung tightly to the older mermaid's neck, their tail had pale teal and shimmery white scales with the same patterns as the older mermaid, safely tucked under her arms. The mer child’s shoulders were shaking, pearls littered the blankets beneath them. Tears. They sat alone in the room, laying on top of a few spare blankets for the cabin beds.

Remus’ gaze was pulled away at the sound of running footsteps, a sailor running past them in haste, to the infirmary. On impulse, Remus followed the sailor as they walked through the door. 

There Min-Jun sat on a chair, looming over a deathly still figure, his face pale. Min-Jun was holding the still figure’s hand. 

Remus gulped, scared to find out who the figure was. “Who…” 

Min-Jun looked up to see Remus. With pained eyes he looked back down to the figure. Gently putting the cold hand to rest on their chest. 

“Ethan’s dead.” 

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Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

@sunflowerfox87

@spookypotato​

[fallen-stars-au]

Any Kind of Freedom (Chapter 1)

Steven's been missing for over a month now.

Well, okay, he's not missing if they know he's on Homeworld, but he wasn't the sort to just go zero-contact for this long.

And it's officially been long enough.

They would find him and bring him home or get shattered trying.

(Here is also an Ao3 Version.)

Prev | First | Next

It was stupid.

It was absolutely, absurdly, ridiculously stupid how easy it was to piss off the Diamonds sometimes.

Sure, sure, they’d gotten better about it. Kind of. Apparently not as much as he’d thought—at least not when it came to White.

All he had to do was make one suggestion at what had apparently been the wrong time- 

In the near-three years since he’d met the Diamonds formally and first travelled to Homeworld, Steven had been locked in the tower a total of five times. Three of them had been for just a couple days but hardly less unpleasant than the longer spells. But the other two times… His first prison sentence (there was nothing else he could call it) had been literal torture. He’d discovered things about how his half-gem biology differed (how the ways he could survive differed) from that of a full-human in ways he never wanted to experience again—in pain he never wanted to experience again. At the very least, Blue had recognized then that he wasn’t lying about having human needs, so the tower and “his” own chambers had been outfitted appropriately. It meant none of his other times in the tower had been as bad as the first, but it was hardly fun or even easy to handle. But what had to be the worst part about every single time he’d been put in that tower is that he never knew how long it would be until he could get back out of it. And with only six tiny windows, it was near impossible to tell a time since Homeworld lack Earth’s same sort of day and night cycle he vastly preferred.

The Diamonds even needed and actively used his help all the time now! Even with their own duties! But apparently, once again suggesting they let gems choose their occupations (despite the fact they knew how deeply he believed this and had successfully set it in motion within his own Court) had been just enough for White at that moment for her to not care about any of that right now. Instead, he got a disgusted and disappointed look, and Yellow got an order to put him away.

It was a small comfort, at least, that Yellow and Blue both looked regretful and as though they wanted to refuse the order.

By Day Three, he didn’t care so much anymore about that because he was still back in this damn tower anyways.

By Day Five, Steven properly started wondering just how long until he could get out. He missed… Well hell, he missed everything. And everyone. His daily delivery of food and fresh water from the crops at the Zoo being shoved through the slot in the door built for that sole purpose was the most contact he’d had with anyone, and the gem on the other side was hardly allowed to speak back to him. It was times like this he desperately wished he could keep things in his gem to even just have a guitar. Or even paperwork. Just anything to stop the maddening, looping thoughts in his head. The only thing that helped was singing, and even then, he couldn’t write any of it down. But he sang it over and over again so much, he sort of doubted he’d be able to forget it anyways. If that was a plus.

By Day Nineteen (maybe), he’d stopped singing. He wasn’t even sure he’d thanked the door every day for his supply like he liked to. He didn’t care anymore—he just wanted out.

“-ridot. Peridot. Peridot!” Splash. Peridot sat bolt upright, awake now, half-drenched, and rapidly checking that her tablet was safe. It was in Lapis’s hand, being extended towards her to reclaim when there wouldn’t be any water damage done to it. “Come on, we’re leaving for Homeworld as soon as we’re done checking on Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Greg.” There was a tense note in her voice that had been consistent throughout the past few weeks—not that Peridot could blame her.

“Right. That’s today. Let’s get to it, then!” Peridot hauled herself up off the now-wet couch and accepted her tablet back after shaking the water off her hands before she motioned for Lapis to lead the way.

Thirty-seven days. It had been thirty-seven days since any of them had seen or heard from Steven. Oh sure, they could always contact Zircon and did every day to ask if he could speak to them, but she kept saying he was unavailable. By the look on her face, all they could tell is that she was no more thrilled about the reason he was unavailable as she was about their constant calls. It was ten days after he’d left for Homeworld last (longer than he’d been gone in years) that they’d first called Zircon and a couple more days after that when Peridot had stopped Lapis from going to Homeworld herself. Steven’s work with the Diamonds was delicate, and anything they did would lead to his punishment as much as their own. So rather than rushing off, Peridot had reasoned out an agreement with Lapis when they would go. Twenty-five days seemed like… a lot, really. It was a lot. Definitely more than Peridot liked either, but Zircon was still willing to answer their calls and insisted she knew where Steven was and insisted even harder that they not come.

“Right. We have approximately eighty-two minutes until Steven’s daily wake-up call should arrive to him on Homeworld, so that gives us a maximum of nineteen-point-five minutes with each of them to have time to warp to Homeworld and catch him before he leaves his room.” It would be silly to assume Steven was actually functioning on his normal schedule, but it was all they could go off of.

Lapis nodded, cold determination emanating from her as she wordlessly led the way out of the house to check on Greg first. Peridot followed, trying to soothe her own worries when they would hopefully have an answer to their concerns in just a few hours.

Thankfully, Greg was easier to check on than he used to be. Now that “Andy” (she still tended to call him The Other Greg to herself and to Lapis) was helping out more often, it was rare that either of them had to really do anything, but it helped Steven when they asked to make sure. They chatted for a few moments to let him know their plans for the day, and then they were gone again with a solid “good luck” and a plea to bring his son home.

Garnet and Amethyst were also easy to check on as they were at the house, attempting to play a human board game with no help or instructions, but they were at least having fun. A little over a month wasn’t very long for them, after all. It just was for Steven and anyone who functioned on a human schedule.

It proved a bit more difficult to find Pearl, however. She avoided the Temple—even her own room because it “was so awfully dangerous” by the amount of weapons stored there—and tended to stick around the house cleaning where nothing needed to be cleaned, but no one had seen her since the previous afternoon.

Time ticked on by, and the spare minutes they’d saved up in making the other check-ins quick were rapidly dispensed. Peridot scrunched her nose in mild irritation as the alarm she’d set on her tablet started to go off at her hip, and she wiggled out from under the back rafters where she’d been searching.

They were out of time or they’d miss their chance to catch him.

“Lapis! Hey, Lapis, come on, we gotta go! We can’t find her right now,” she called up towards the lighthouse even as another layer of anxiety piled itself on top of her stack. Where in the stars was Pearl? She wouldn’t leave the planet—that was the only thing Steven had ever ordered of her for her own safety. So where had she gone?

Lapis dropped to the ground beside her and was already walking back up the path to the house.  She’d stopped wanting to search at least half an hour before; Peridot knew she was just as concerned about Pearl, but their worries for Steven won out in this instance. “She’ll be fine; let’s go.”

Peri quickly followed, grabbing her metal hovering device from just inside the front door and without stopping on the way to the warp pad; with a rush of light and a musical chime, they were at the Galaxy Warp. She gasped as the light dissipated and recognized someone there other than two of the four Rose Quartz guards (Rosie and Quinn as they liked to be called) in charge of keeping non-Earth gems off planet. “Pearl!!” Relief washed through Peridot as she hurried over to their “friend” (even after almost a year, it was still so bizarre and just… wrong not having Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl as their normal selves) who was resting on her knees in front of the Galaxy Warp. “We looked everywhere… for.. you.” As soon as she saw Pearl’s face, she knew she’d been crying—enough for wise tear tracks to be dried down her cheeks.

Pearl pulled herself up from the ground, lacking her usual grace and semi-forced cheer as she saluted them both. “I apologize for not informing you of my whereabouts, Lapis Lazuli and Peridot. I wished to await my It’s Steven here so I might know the moment he returns to Earth…” It clicked.

Peridot knew something had been wrong lately, but of course she hadn’t been able to get a word out of Pearl about what it was. She still followed the classic rules of a Pearl, and that meant hiding and ignoring any of her own feelings. For her to have even cried like she clearly had been… well, it was almost relieving to see albeit kind of sad.

Before Peridot could point any of this out, Lapis’s patience was gone. “Well then, stop with the salute thing and come with us. We’re going to find him.”

Pearl started. “Find… him…? But- but he’s on Homeworld! I would be disobeying a direct order from my Diamond, I could hardly-“

“Who cares? If you’re coming, get moving. We need to leave.” Apparently Lapis had even less patience at the moment than Peridot had thought, but it was apparently just as well. When Lapis walked past to the massive warp pad in front of them, Pearl hesitated for a very long moment before she followed—seeming to struggle to take each step. But she still made them.

Peridot stayed by Pearl’s side for each slow step, and even Lapis calmed down some with wide eyes as they walked up and onto the Galaxy Warp. Once they were within the boundaries, Peridot warped the three of them away before Pearl could turn back and change her mind.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter eleven

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy. I added some Rebekah and Aniya content for y’all <3

Word Count: 2,300

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

❝ forgive me, for the things i did but most the ones i did not ❞

KOL WATCHED SILENTLY as Keres set a grimoire in front of him. The small building in the cemetary was lit up only by faded sunlight and several candles, scattered around the area. Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the witch, critical eyes watching for any reason to turn away from Keres and search elsewhere. Her mouth twitched when Keres suggested Henry Pearl's sacrifice, posture shifting at the smug look on the witch's face. Her fists clenched together, body void of any amusement as she prepared her attack against the younger witch.

Kol cleared his throat, stepping in front of Aniya. Frankly, he wasn't sure who he was protecting. He was only sure that there seemed to be a smug look on Keres's face. He narrowed his eyes, but quickly replaced it with a polite smile.

"The human is off the table, unfortunately. Perhaps we should move onto some other possible victims," Kol suggested. He all but shoved the grimoire in Keres's direction, a quiet suggestion that she find another solution.

It was an odd dynamic. Physically, Keres was much older than Aniya and Kol. She was a dark-skinned woman in her mid-to-late twenties, while Aniya and Kol were frozen in their teenage years. Still, Kol found himself a bit offended. Keres would have known to offer some respect to her elders.

Aniya lifted her chin, hand lightly pushing Kol to the side. She stared Keres in the eyes, as if daring the witch to lie to her. "You're quite insistent, aren't you? So willing to sacrifice my Henry for a spell you wouldn't stand to benefit from. Keres, he has no power; no ties to the supernatural world -- and yet, you suggest we trade his life for a thousand year old immortal witch?"

She had a sharp tongue for a girl her size. It was odd. She was different from the girl he'd found curled up in the foyer that night. Aniya Grover was strange, in a manner that made his lips curl at the edges and eyes glitter in amusement. She'd had a chameleon soul; an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and wavering as the ocean. Had it been Henry Pearl that awoke this fire within her?

Whatever the answer, Kol's stomach twisted at the seams. The thought of her wrapped in his arms was enough to make him gag. He couldn't bring himself to understand why.

Keres turned the grimoire in Aniya's direction, a smug look painted across her face as she pushed it toward her. "Sacrificed are more likely to work when the emotional bond is the same between the victim and the vessel. Tyaag spells are known for failing. It's more likely to work if you care as much about the person you're sacrificing, as you do the person you're trying to bring back. So, a best friend, a brother, a boyfriend..."

It registered then that Aniya had none of those. She'd only had Henry. Kol shifted his stance. If Keres's words were true and she chose to sacrifice someone she cared for, she could only choose Henry. As far as Aniya was aware, the Mikaelsons couldn't be killed. And regardless, she'd said once that they had all been family to her in her human days. Surely she wouldn't throw that away in exchange for a human she'd just met.

Surely she wasn't that idiotic.

Aniya's jaw clenched, a bitter smile spreading across her face. Her dark eyes bored into Keres's. "No."

Keres's eyes glimmered with delight, a smile spreading across her red lips. Her tone shifted, mocking the girl in front of her. "So you'll let an innocent human die in exchange for your brother? You are cruel, Aniya."

"He is innocent." Her confidence never seemed to waver. Her right hand clenched into a fist, the whites of her knuckles beginning to peak through her olive skin.

"Perhaps we should focus our attention on smaller spells," Kol cut in, the rising tension in the room seeming to eat away at him. "How many humans do we need for the memory spell? Fifteen? Fifty?"

"Five." Keres stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "One for each of the Mikaelson siblings."

Aniya questioned, "I thought Finn died."

"Mikaelsons never properly die. We never learned," Kol responded, then turned back to Keres. He would explain later. "Five humans in exchange for decades of memories. It's quite simple, don't you think?"

"You were humans when your memories were erased, so we only need to erase human memories." Keres explained. "They all need to be eighteen at the youngest and in their thirties, at the oldest."

Aniya frowned. "And what of Mikael and Esther? We won't be returning theirs?"

Kol nearly laughed at her question, the past centuries replaying in his brain. Mikael had hunted he and his siblings for centuries, in the hopes of murdering Niklaus and doing God knows what with the rest of them. He'd been killed and brought back countless times, once in particular as a result of Davina Claire.

Esther had been murdered by Niklaus a thousand years ago. She was killed and brought back several times as well, and each time she'd carried a sort of vendetta against her own children. It was as if she'd made it her life's goal to wipe them from the face of the Earth. But then, it had been Esther that had resurrected him in the body of a witch, and it had been Esther that introduced him to Davina.

Part of him resented her for it. Davina had made him a better person, that much was true. He'd fallen in love with her, convinced himself that the moon and sun rose and fell by her will alone. She had bewitched him, in ways he could not bring himself to justify nor understand. It had been Esther that introduced the pair; but then, it had been their meeting that caused Davina's death in the first place.

A heavy weight seemed to drop onto his chest. Aniya would never know the cruelty of his mother's actions. He might have envied her for it, but there seemed to be this part of him that felt a bit relieved.

"You're better off assuming they've truly died," Kol said after a moment.

"You two really have a thing for being melodramatic. Y'all deserve each other," Keres stated. "I'll get everything you need for the spell. Bring me five people, and I'll erase one year of their lives for each year you knew the Mikaelsons."

Aniya lifted an eyebrow. "And how do you benefit from this?"

"My people have lost their ties to the ancestors. We have no power and no idea how to practice earth magic. Tyaag magic is the closest thing we've got, so I wanna learn more about it," She answered almost too perfectly.

"These spells can't be practiced by ordinary witches--"

"So we'll make a new branch of magic," Keres shut her down immediately. "One where we don't have to die to become all powerful."

Aniya's face twisted into a glare, baring her teeth at the witch. Kol narrowed his eyes at Keres, immediately understanding the gravity of the situation. Tyaag magic had been forgotten, buried and disrespected for centuries. It had originated from polytheistic beliefs, with the hope of appeasing their gods. Aniya and her brother had given their lives to sacrificial magic and rituals, and now it would be stolen and forgotten without so much as a thought.

"People have lost their lives to practice these rituals," Aniya said. "You mean to tell me that you're willing to put the lives of children on the line, for the sake of convenience. You have the ability to practice earth magic, why not use it?"

"I'm trying to help you. Why ask so many questions?" Keres spoke as if Aniya were a child, trying to put her back in her place. Aniya seemed to fall back under Keres's gaze.

"I'll provide you your humans. I'll need only a few days."

She turned on her heel and made her way out of the cemetary building. Kol stared after her, a small voice in his head screaming to defend her against Keres. Before he could so much as let out a word, Keres said, "She's stubborn. You might want to find your humans sooner. I'm sure Klaus will figure out you're lying eventually, and we wouldn't want that."

'No.' Kol would be daggered and shoved in a box before he could begin to defend himself. In regards to Aniya, there was no telling how he would react to a betrayal from someone so foreign, and vulnerable. For all he knew, she would be killed as a form of punishment. His consequence for disobeying direct orders.

Niklaus had become a madman, a dictator over the years. Perhaps he'd spent a bit too much time with King Louis. Whatever the reason, it occurred to Kol that there was no telling how he would respond to twenty years of ancient memories being thrust toward him. He had hoped the twins had been close with Niklaus in their past lives. Then he might be a bit more lenient about completely slaughtering the poor girl.

Kol nodded half-heartedly at Keres and made his way out of the cemetary. Maybe there would be some humans in his path, grieving over a lost lover or family member. Maybe they would be heartbroken enough to wish to forget their grief, exchanging it for a bit of amnesia and the aching feeling that they were missing something... indespensable.

To be quite honest, Kol wasn't sure how he found himself in front of Davina's grave, how he'd somehow managed to wander there despite the exit being several paces away. He was met with a crack in the cement, the old stone beginning to harden, immortalizing the girl that lied behind it. He knew that he could not make anyone understand the insurmountable grief he held in his chest. He could not make anyone understand what was happening inside him, and he could not begin to explain it himself.

Immortals such as he should not have been able to love the way humans do. Humans loved based on survival, lived viscerally and vulnerable out of fear of their own morality. With the destruction of the stake, Kol feared nothing of the sort. Davina had feared it all, and she had loved him regardless of his dirtied fingers and blood-drenched lips. She had saved him, resurrected him when his family had all but forgotten him once more.

He knew he should have had the courage to move on. Humans die, witches die. It was what they were made to do -- and yet, he simply couldn't bring himself to let go of the girl that had loved him so dearly. The one that had given so much to ensure he would come back. He owed her that much.

It was when he turned the corner that he was pulled out his thoughts, attention now focused on a drunken man tossing old beer at a gravesite. Kol lifted an eyebrow.

"Excuse me." He made his way towards the man. The old man couldn't have been any younger than forty, perhaps fifty. He would be able to fill in for Finn. Nearly thirty years of memories shouldn't have too much of an affect on a bastard such as this.

"Oh, hello," He slurred, words tainted with a heavy Swedish accent. The man moved recklessly, beer spilling out of the bottle and landing on the ground. Kol wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Please, ignore me. I'm simply having a drink with my wife."

"Yes. Well, you're being quite disrespectful to her memory. Most men would kill to have had a happy marriage," Kol paused for a moment, his eyes fixating on the man's bruised knuckles. A bitter smile formed on his face. "Tell me about your wife."

"Ah, she was beautiful. We met in secondary school, you see. She was this tall brunette girl, quite beautiful in her own way. Our parents despised each other,  a sort of Romeo and Juliet-esque situation. We were together for two years before we ran off to America, claiming it was for university purposes." The old man had a tendency to stop in the middle of his sentences, taking a short sip of his drink. He let out a laugh. "My son does love to keep me away from this stuff. Says it's bad for me, the fucking idiot."

"Your son," Kol repeated, gaze flickering to his knuckles once more. His mouth began tasted of blood, a hatred beginning to sear inside of his chest. "Tell me, how did you manage to end up in New Orleans?"

"Ah, it was our first stop. Woman wanted to go to Tulane or whatever it was, but she chose me over her studies. Smart move on her behalf, perhaps one of her only ones," The man chuckled. "A while after, we found she was expecting. We had a boy, and she became ill a few years later. I stayed by her side during that time. I had promised her till death, of course. She was ungrateful nevertheless."

"How's your son?"

"Ah, he's all right now. Twenty-three, but works in a diner like his mother. Fucking idiot doesn't know how to make something of himself," He scoffed. "Sleeps all day, too."

It clicked then. Kol felt as though he'd ate the world raw. He nodded to himself and grabbed the man, wrapping a hand tightly around his mouth and squeezing until he went limp in his arms.

[essays-for-breakfast]

Do You Remember?

Kiane Week Day Five: Affection

Note: So, I had no idea what to do with the prompt for today. That’s when randomness entered my creatively-bankrupt brain. I hope you enjoy my first dive into first person referral POV.

You. Let me hold you close, now that we have nothing to fear. Our war is won, our past conquered, our future brighter than I could have hoped. Let me kiss you, now that you wear my ring and I yours. Let me create a shrine for our love, a forest that will last a thousand years, where the daisy blooms all seasons and the birds carol the song of a Giant and a Fairy.

My people say that the Sacred Tree produces a seed only once every five thousand years. A single bloom with a single kernel from which the strongest and most beautiful tree will sprout. The odds of witnessing such a wonder are slim, few Fairies ever do, and those who hope and search all their life might still return emptyhanded. A pearl in an ocean of sand.

And yet, I found the pearl without looking for her. She pulled me from a river, healed my wounds, and nursed me to health. In every sense of the word, she saved my life.

You.

You are my pearl, my one in five thousand chance, my strong and beautiful rock in an ocean of worries.

Let me reminisce the years we spent side by side, as friends, as comrades, now as husband and wife. Do you remember?

A cave in the sun. Water ran down the stone, cool and fresh, but the walls of your home never felt cold against my back. Because your warmth melted all ice. How often did we play tag in the meadows while the grass whispered with the wind? Do you remember half of it? One day blended into the next, one year mingled with the following, but you were always there, with a smile to brighten my mood and a hand to lift me up. Free of my own memories to chain me, I saw the world through your eyes. So vivid and cheerful. Every face a new friend without a shred of hostility.

Sometimes I want to go back to these days with you. But we have more now than we ever did back then, don’t we? More memories to wallow in, more experience to rely on, more friends to ask for support, advice, or a mindless night indulged in liquor. And a child to share our stories with.

In truth, I don’t want to go back to the cave in the sun. Tears stain the end of this chapter. I now acknowledge why Helbram needed to die, and the sound of the rose tearing through his skin and flesh no longer wakes me in the darkest hour before dawn. But what I did to you will forever haunt me. Please don’t worry, you can’t kiss away the guilt, your words can’t lift the burden. I realize my mistake now. Perhaps one day I will find the strength to remind you how truly sorry I am.

A man can endure torture, he can stomach tremendous loss, he can throw himself into the steel-infested fires of the battlefield time and time again, as long as his mind has a happier place to return to. Nothing lets us hold on and continue to strive forward more than a blissful memory to keep us company.

I robbed you of that.

But I underestimated your strength. You thrived without the warmth of memories, you blossomed, and never once did you betrayal your ideals. Although everyone in your clan told you to find your meaning in battle, you proved that fighting for the sake of fighting is sad and meaningless. Your kindness touched others, allowed them to grow beyond the cage they trapped themselves in. It was this kindness that cradled me during the endless nights in prison, and it is this kindness upon which the merger of our clans and, in a sense, the Seven Deadly Sins are build.

Do you remember how we met again, as comrades?

I had given up hope to see you after all these years, but there you stood, alive and more beautiful than I could have imagined in my most luxurious dreams. You hid your face behind your hair, and you blushed when the Captain introduced you. How many careful, affectionate glances did you throw his way? And I hovered right there beside you, drunk with delight and on the brink of tears.

Yes, I was jealous. How I pulled my hair every single time you snatched the Captain into an embrace. No one deserved you in my mind, least of all an ill-mannered, inconsiderate man of Meliodas’ caliber. My respect for him probably made it worse. I watched him like a hawk, desperate to find a flaw that would prove he wasn’t worthy of your praises. I made a fool out of myself.

Hey, don’t laugh, if he or anyone else came along and played with your feelings like that, I would stare him to the ground and then chase Chastifol after him. What more can I say to convince you of my devotion for you? I’ve never learned the humility to share what I love. We should put this on a list of things you still have to teach me.

But there were good moments with the Sins too, even back then. Our missions brought us closer together and so did the plethora of parties we celebrated afterwards. The alcohol might have clouded my senses then and again, but I still recall the best parts. Your face illuminated by ten thousand candles on ten hundred chandeliers during our mission in Lothien. Your story about the first time you went fishing and pulled a twenty-feet Dragon Trout from the lake. Your laugh when Ban dove headfirst into the barrel with Aberdeen Ale.

Each day I watched you, and each day your beauty grew, until I was convinced a shower of daisies and primroses rained down on me whenever you passed me by.

But this chapter had to come to an end also.

Without you, where was I supposed to go? To an empty cave in the rain? To a forest I hadn’t seen in half a millennium, a ruin of ash and smoke and burnt seeds? Loneliness was my companion and misery my only driving force. Without you, I allowed anger and prejudice to cloud my judgement, I allied with knights I didn’t trust to hunt down a knight I should have learned to trust years ago. Shadows arose unseen to me, and I allowed them to seep into my heart. I became one with the evil my bitterness gardened. And then you returned to my life, side by side with Ban and the Captain, a smile on your face and a greeting for me on your lips.

Yes, without you, I wouldn’t have rejoined the Sins. Not for the princess’ pleas, not for the Captain’s orders, not even for Elaine’s sake. You, Diane, you made me stay. Blessed by your kindness, gifted with your cheer, awarded with the sight of your sleeping form under a firmament of thousands of stars, I followed you into battle.

A battle in Liones, where you gave me hope that perhaps you did remember the cave in the sun.

A battle amidst the labyrinth of Vaizel, where we fought our predecessors and lost our Captain but gained one another.

A battle high up in the marble remains of a Goddess temple, where I remembered all the promises I made to you and learned to fly.

And a battle against the Demon King, the fate of the world on our shoulders, life as we knew it on the brink of collapse, where I at last found the courage to ask you the ultimate question.

Do you remember?

Now, your hand rests in mine, and I will never let go. I know the contours of your palm better than I know my own, all the hills and fissures and your heartbeat pulsating underneath, but I will never get tired of stroking the skin to hear your giggles. The light seeps through a canopy of birch leaves and paints beautiful patterns onto your face. Let me hold you close and listen to your steady breath. Let me hum a soft lullaby to you. Let me be at peace while your head leans against my shoulders and your hair tickles my cheek.

You are my pearl, my one in five thousand chance, my strong and beautiful rock in an ocean of worries.

You are you.

And I love you.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

linger like a tattoo kiss

chapter two of the peter losing wendy series

*inspired by Taylor Swift’s Folklore*

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Original Character (Liz Walker)

Warnings: mentions of suicide, PLEASE proceed with caution, drinking/partying, smoking, mentions of emotional abuse, does not follow the plot of the canon material

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: Liz has a run-in with a Kook at a party. JJ, strangely, shows up late.

May 4, 2019

With a headache, Liz awoke, scrunching up her nose at the sound of the rooster out in the chicken coop. The sky was just barely alight with the rising sun, and a chilly morning breeze blew through the screens in the windows. Early May, and summer had still yet to set in. Not a problem to Liz, though. She was always glad to go a few extra weeks without the thick blanket of humidity which began to suffocate the Outer Banks every year by June. Debating whether or not to move, she stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. There were cracks on the white surface, and a couple brownish water stains from the last tropical storm.

Despite the open windows, John B’s house still smelled stale after a night of debauchery. Empty bags of chips, green glass bottles, and rolling papers littered the rickety dining table. After the party at the Boneyard, the Pogues had migrated back to the Chateau and continued into the darkest hours of the night. Judging from the orangey hue of the sky, they couldn’t have gone to bed more than a couple hours prior. Of course, Kie and Pope had gone back to the Carrera residence, claiming to want to sleep in a ‘real’ bed. Kie could never stand the uncomfortable springs sticking out of the pullout couch mattress, or the mattress in the spare bedroom.

JJ usually got the spare, but both he and Liz had ended up sprawled out on the pullout instead. She would have worried about John B suspecting something fishy going on, but she could hear his faint snores coming from the direction of his bedroom. Not that he would’ve ever raised an eyebrow at seeing them share a bed. Liz was just a textbook worrywart. Besides, the living room was empty save for the two of them after everyone else had gone to bed, when they’d stayed up talking and sharing a final blunt to take the edge off and kissing softly. No; they’d had the whole world to themselves, it had seemed, in the living room of the Chateau in the wee hours of the new spring day. Though she felt silly, Liz couldn’t help letting a small smirk ghost over her lips at the memory of only hours earlier.

After a moment more indecision, she found herself doing her best to rise from the bed without waking JJ. It took more than a few seconds to pluck his arm from where it was draped over her stomach. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth where his face was smashed up against the pillow. Liz’s smile widened just a bit at the sight. Noticing the goosebumps which rose on her arms at the lack of JJ’s body heat, she grabbed the crumpled gray cardigan from under the pullout mattress. She’d noticed it under there the night before as JJ was sucking on her neck.

Grimacing at the light from the back windows, Liz went up to the kitchen sink and got herself a glass of tap water. There was simply no way she was getting back to sleep with the hangover throbbing behind her eyes. But she didn’t particularly mind with such a beautiful sunrise. She had seen it so many times over the course of her life, on daybreak fishing trips and in the aftermath of long nights, but it always felt like the first time. Through the windows above the sink, she could see the reflection of the warmly painted sky against the water in the marsh. It glistened in small, glowing pearls on the dewy blades of tall grass in John B’s backyard.

As she was setting the emptied glass down in the sink, she felt a pair of arms snake around her waist. She startled, but relaxed into JJ’s touch after a moment. He had barely made any noise at all while padding over to her in his socked feet.

“Fuck, JJ!” she exclaimed quietly, letting out an anxious, breathy chuckle. “Announce yourself, sunshine.”

Not quite yet awake, JJ leaned against her. His head was on her shoulder, eyes closed as he spoke in drowsy slurs.

“Jesus, what time is it?” he asked.

“My name’s Liz, not Jesus. But, hey, we’ve only known each other since we were seven, after all,” she quipped, teasing.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, eager to lay back down. The flashes across his memory of all the alcohol he’d downed the night before made him a little nauseous. “Gimme a break, Lizzie.”

She snickered, but relented, looking over at the clock on the microwave. “Half past five.”

He groaned in response, shaking his head a bit. “I have to leave for work in like twenty minutes.”

“Shit. Why?”

“Early bird breakfast,” he grumbled.

“That sucks ass,” Liz said. “There’s some aspirin left in the medicine cabinet, I think. If you want to take some before you leave.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. The tank top Liz wore slipped down over her right arm just a bit. JJ pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, on which her small, black and white tattoo of a betta fish peeked out from the neckline of the cardigan. She’d gotten it the day after turning sixteen, with a forged signature on the parental release form. It was the only tattoo she had. Since JJ had begun kissing her, it had become one of his favorite spots. Hers, too. The feather-light pressure of his lips reminded her of the night before, when she’d touched him just as gingerly.

.   .   .

Rarely did Liz arrive at a party before JJ. He was usually the first to run down the beach, leading the way as he helped carry the keg. As he shouted in excitement, she could normally only manage a nervous half-grimace. But JJ was still nowhere to be found fifteen minutes after they’d finished setting up shop. Even the bonfire was lit. The past few days had been dry, and Liz hadn’t encountered too much trouble getting the logs to ignite. She was a former girl scout, and had slowly become the honorary firestarter of the group. She stood next to her creation, a red solo cup in her hand. John B had gone all out, supplying not just a keg but also the materials for mixed drinks. Liz was nursing a vodka-cranberry, taking slow, small sips. She was being careful to pace herself after the sloppy table dance she’d performed a few weeks back.

The late afternoon had just begun bleeding into evening, and the sky had darkened to a strange mixture of pinks and blues. A chilly breeze blew past her as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and she took a couple more steps towards the heat of the bonfire. Still, she kept a careful distance from the main crowd. Kie had gotten into a conversation with Pope about use of fracking on the mainland as they sat next to each other in the circle around the fire. Liz could see how completely engrossed Pope was in Kie’s words, and if JJ had been there, she would have faked a gag at how cute they were. John B and Sarah, too, were lost in their own world, sharing flirty touches and lingering looks as they manned the keg. Though it had been months since the two had started dating, Liz still wasn’t sure how she felt about Sarah. The ice had melted between the Kook princess and the rest of the Pogues, but Liz just couldn’t bring herself to feel comfortable. Not around a girl who wore necklaces made of solid gold and got her highlights professionally done. The most Liz could afford was a seven-dollar box of dye, but years of practice had served her well. She’d started dying her auburn hair a fiery shade of copper during freshman year, just after her father died, and never looked back.

While she’d been getting ready for the party, she’d decided to channel Halloween, even though it was May. John B and Pope had watched curiously as she donned her black lipstick and smudged eyeliner. Sarah had extended the offer for Liz to come and get ready with her and Kie. But Liz brushed it off. Most of her makeup was at John B’s house, anyway, considering how often she stayed there. Why bring it all the way to the Figure Eight? Liz couldn’t imagine stepping into Sarah Cameron’s room, seeing the closet filled to the brim with designer dresses; velvet and silk and tulle. Especially not when the best Liz could do for a party outfit was an ancient Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and a semi-clean polka dot skirt.

Before she could spiral deeper into the bitter storm in her mind, Liz was pulled from her reverie when someone bumped hard into her shoulder. Liz barely registered what had happened until she felt the lukewarm drink spill down the front of her shirt. The gray fabric on which Jimi Hendrix’s face was printed was splashed right down the front with a deep, pinkish-red stain. Furrowing her brows, Liz looked up to see the Kook girl who had walked into her retreating, barely casting Liz a glance. The girl, who Liz recognized eventually as being called Ally, was struggling to walk on her high heels in the sand, while also typing away on her brand new phone, adorned with a sequined case. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Maybe it didn’t matter that Ally hadn’t said a word, hadn’t looked Liz’s way, hadn’t apologized. But Liz looked around and found almost no one had seen what happened. John B and Sarah were all the way across the beach, and Liz could see Pope and Kie in a lively debate. JJ had still yet to arrive, it seemed. The t-shirt had been Liz’s father’s, vintage from his youth. And Liz knew it was unlikely such a stain would come out. She saw a flash of red and gripped the plastic cup so hard in her hand that it crumpled.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, as her stomach swirled with nerves and her hands began to shake. She knew she should have just let it go, as she always did. The idea of starting something with a Kook had her heart in her throat. But it was her father’s shirt. Sometimes, she thought she could still smell him when she wore it.

Ally didn’t turn around until Liz called out to her a couple more times. She spun around slowly on her heel, just barely looking up from her phone. Confusion painted her face as she realized who was addressing her. “Yeah?”

“Do you see what you just did to my shirt?” Liz asked, gesturing down at herself, voice raised over the blaring music and the chatter of fellow partygoers. A few people at the edges of the bonfire circle, where Ally had been headed, began to look up at the commotion.

Ally stared blankly at Liz’s shirt for a moment and then shrugged in disinterest. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

Scoffing, Liz let an angry, sardonic smirk cross her face. “Damn, someone should give you an Oscar for that acting.”

“What’s your problem?” Ally asked, finally giving Liz her full attention as her face twisted in disgust.

“My problem is my shirt is ruined,” Liz continued, not knowing exactly what she wanted to get out of the exchange. She only knew that she was pissed, and she hadn’t felt quite so pissed in a long time. It confused her, but the few sips of vodka she’d downed were apparently making her more courageous already.

Ally looked at Liz’s shirt for another moment. “I don’t know. I’d say I did you a favor.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at Ally, who appeared to think the exchange was over and began turning away again. But before she could disappear into the small crowd of onlookers which had formed, Liz grabbed the drink from Ally’s left hand and tossed the mixture onto the girl’s white crop top and mini skirt set. The color was even more vivid against such a light fabric, and it looked like a scene out of a horror movie. A chorus of cliché gasps erupted from the voyeurs standing around, and Pope and Kie had finally gotten wind of the situation. They had yet to intervene, standing with hesitation. It wasn’t like Liz to start fights. Usually, she was the one who ended them. Pope always called her the dependent variable, but she was certainly deviating from the norm tonight.

“Pogue bitch!” Ally shrieked, looking down at her ruined outfit.

Liz only smirked, feigning innocence and shrugging in a mock imitation. She couldn’t help but feel instant satisfaction. “You could always buy new, right?”

Ally’s face grew red with anger at the sound of Liz’s aloof tone. “This was two hundred dollars in New York, you cunt!”

“Tragic,” Liz replied coolly. “You poor baby.”

Ally took a couple threatening steps forward and Liz let out a bark of laughter. She threw the cups in her hands to the side (which she would be picking up as soon as she could, knowing how upset Kie would be if she didn’t). She advanced to Ally and met her eyes. Without the heels, Ally would have been significantly shorter than Liz. With them, she was almost as tall. But it didn’t matter. Liz stared her down like she was a bug about to be squashed.

“You gonna fight me, princess?” Liz asked huskily, feeling the lively fire in her stomach rising in her throat. Her smirk was ever-present, joyless. “Do it. Fight the Pogue cunt. See how that works out for you.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Ally said. She wasn’t quite scared, only surprised. Her brow was crinkled analytically. All this over a t-shirt.

“Oh, am I?” Liz asked, eyes wide in askance and mocking.

“Yeah. Just like your daddy,” Ally replied viciously, letting a smugness come over her face. She had recognized Liz only a few moments prior. On such a small island, word of tragedy got around. Most everyone knew about the girl whose father was found dangling from a beam in the attic. The audience made a sound of shock and awe.

Feeling her stomach do another flip, Liz clenched her hands into tight fists at her sides. Her nails began to cut into her palms. Just as she was launching herself forward, ready to hit someone for the first time in many years, she felt herself being pulled clumsily away by the shoulders and the waist. She struggled in the hold for only a moment, before she saw Ally retreating back to her friends and heard Kie yelling in her ear to calm the hell down. Sarah and John B were running over, the entire beach now aware something was going on.

“Let me go, Pope! I’m fine!” Liz yelled, tearing his arms from her sides and feeling freer at the release. Even though it was Pope, she still couldn’t help the panic which bubbled up within her from being restrained.

“What the hell was that?” John B asked as he came over, Sarah trailing behind.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you go fuck your girlfriend?” Liz snapped coldly.

A pit of regret immediately sank in her stomach. Her entire body was flushed and adrenaline pulsed through her. Even if John B was pretty much her brother, she couldn’t help but let all her negative feelings about everyone mix into an indecipherable rage. Not her father’s shirt. Not some lousy Kook calling her father crazy. She simply couldn’t handle it. Sure, she knew people whispered comments to each other when she walked down the street. She knew the Kooks talked shit about her behind her back. But to her face was something else entirely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John B said, taken aback by the outburst.

“Just forget it, alright?” Liz sighed, breathing harshly. “I’m sorry...I’m just...my fucking shirt!”

Kie tilted her head at Liz in confusion, bringing a gentle hand to her shoulder. “Why-“

Liz shrugged her off. “I said forget it! Can someone please just get me a new drink?!”

Recoiling, Kie stepped away and plucked the cups from where Liz had tossed them in the sand. Liz wanted so badly to make a full apology. She really did. And she would, once they got back to the Chateau. But she felt almost incapable at the moment, stewing with such uncharacteristic rage.

Silence and doubtful looks were exchanged, but eventually Sarah volunteered to go get Liz the drink and John B followed, tossing concerned glances over his shoulder at Liz as they went. She thanked them quietly, embarrassed, but then yelled after them, requesting they keep the cranberry juice to a minimum. Not much more than a chaser.

“Are you sure-” Pope began, but he stopped immediately when Liz locked eyes with him. She meant business. No more fun and games.

“Not tonight, okay, Pope?” she asked, a pleading, tired crack in her voice. It made Pope want to say more, but Liz cut him off again with another exclamation as she began walking away. “Where the fuck is JJ?!”

.   .   .

Down the beach from the party, Liz could barely see the orange glow of the fire past the crowd. She was still nursing her vodka-cranberry, a bit buzzed but not nearly enough to forget what had happened. Her eyes were burning with tears, but whenever she felt herself truly welling up, she would stop it. She’d sniff and look up at the sky until her eyes were dry. It was clear, and she could see the swirl of the stars so vividly against the pitch-black sky. Humming a Nirvana song under her breath, she sat with her arms on her knees, one hand clasped around the opposite wrist. The drink on her shirt had long since dried, but she was still chilly in the ocean wind. She’d thought about going back to the Chateau, but decided she didn’t have the energy to make the walk alone. Instead, she’d gone a good distance down the shore, and sat a few inches up from where the tide was coming in. The moon shone silver on the waves, and the sight of it almost made her feel better. But it didn’t.

She was only sad and tipsy. In her solitude, her mind wandered to her mother and father. To her siblings. She wondered what her mother was doing, probably already asleep. A bottle of Jack somewhere near the bed. It made Liz feel guilty for getting buzzed, but she only downed more of the drink in an effort to get the feeling to disappear. Her sisters, too, she wondered about. They didn’t call much, and she didn’t blame them. The oldest two were off at college on the mainland, living separate lives with their scholarships. The other, Nicole, checked in even less reilably. Last Liz heard, she was somewhere in New Mexico finding herself. And Liz was where she had always been, spending her nights at home cleaning up after her mother, sitting through tearful diatribes about what a saint her father had been. Biting her tongue through her mother’s lies. She was glad the Chateau had become the place to rest her head since her father’s death. Had she been forced to stay at home every night, she imagined she would have run off long ago.

JJ strode up to her with his hands in his pockets, hat backwards on his head as usual. He sat down next to her without a word, carrying his own cup. Liz didn’t startle at his presence. Instead, she only breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but he was more than late.

“Contemplating the mysteries of the universe?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

She chuckled humorlessly, clearing her throat and sniffing. “Not quite. Just thinking about Kurt Cobain.”

“Well, no wonder you’re down here all angsty and alone, hot stuff,” he teased, but when he spoke again his voice was more solemn. “JB said you got in a fight with a Kook.”

“He’s a drama queen. I didn’t fight her,” Liz said, staring out at the ocean still. The breeze was cold but welcome, clarifying, and she took in a deep breath through her nose. “Ally spilled her drink on me. And then she said some shit about my dad...it was nothing.”

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing,” JJ said, eyeing the stain across Jimi Hendrix’s face in the dimness.

She snorted a laugh, looking down at herself. “Maybe not. But I was going for a Patrick Bateman thing tonight, anyway.”

JJ sighed, licking at his lips. He debated arguing, maybe even getting fired up enough to go find some random Kook in retaliation. But he didn’t. He knew how she hated when he fought. Instead, he only took off his hat, pulled his sweatshirt over his head and went to hand it to her.

“You’re cold,” he said insistently, watching her shiver in the nighttime wind. She still hadn’t looked over at him, only staring out blankly at the waves. “And your shirt looks like you just went all Mrs. Crain on someone.”

After a long moment, she nodded, taking a final sip of her drink and then placing the cup down on the sand beside her. She still didn’t look over at him as she put it on. It warmed her up instantly.  The smell of JJ, Old Spice and weed and smoke, mixed with the ocean breeze. The wind blew past her again, the tips of her red hair just brushing her shoulders. She would have to cut it again soon. Since she was little, she could never handle her hair getting longer than her collarbones. It was just too much effort.

With JJ’s sweatshirt on, she wasn’t nearly as freezing.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, red,” he replied easily, taking another sip of his drink.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked quietly, trying her best not to sound needy. “We got here, like, three hours ago.”

“Oh, you know. Just robbing a bank or two,” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. Her face fell, though, when she finally ventured a full glance at him. In the moonlight and the distant glow of the bonfire, she could see the cut on his cheek which was still oozing blood.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, placing gingerly fingers on his jaw so he would face her. But his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.

“I’m fine, Lizzie,” he muttered, swatting her hand away.

“Who did that to you?” she asked softly, tilting her head at him.

JJ shrugged. “Just ran into Rafe on the way over. I would’ve called, but I figured I should clean up a little so you wouldn’t freak out when you saw me. I guess that was a waste.”

She shook her head a little. “That motherfucker.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. You should see the other guy,” JJ continued, smirking though it didn’t reach his eyes.

Liz breathed out a sigh and thought about asking more, but didn’t. Instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek, the skin around the cut already bruising a deep purple. Her black lipstick had long since been wiped off, after her scuffle with Ally. Before JJ had arrived, she’d used the inside of her shirt to rub furiously at her face. Her lips were sore and pinkish, but soft against JJ’s skin.

Fighting to keep the shine of tears from his blue eyes, JJ let a small giggle slip. If his father’s fist had been a scream, her kiss was a whisper. It was so gentle he could barely contain himself, his heart skipping a beat. “Feels better already.”

“Does it?” she asked, pulling away with a tiny smile.

He hummed in confirmation. Tossing a glance over his shoulder at the party, he shifted closer to her. The kiss that followed was heated and hungry, both tasting vodka on each other’s tongues. Liz wasn’t surprised JJ was a bit buzzed as well. If she knew John B, he had shoved a drink in JJ’s hand as soon as he saw his eye. JJ was hard to read at times, but alcohol or weed were always surefire ways to cheer him up. And John B always made himself the captain of the party and the guests’ happiness.

Liz was out of breath, but she still smiled against JJ’s  lips. As fishy as his late arrival was, she was just happy to see him. Simple as that. In the weeks since they’d gone from friends to something more, she’d found herself thinking of him always. What he was doing, how he was feeling, whether he was thinking of her too. Usually, he was.

Away from the party, she could kiss him like she meant to, nowhere near the lingering eyes of her friends. No one else in the world knew but the two of them, not even the other Pogues. While the inter-group macking rule had long since been broken, there were other reasons to keep the secret. Sure, everyone had always said they belonged together. But neither of them were ready to let it be known to the world. Truthfully, Liz feared the pit of dread in her stomach, worrying over what would happen to their friendship if whatever they were doing fizzled out, would only grow heavier if everyone knew. JJ’s hand slipped beneath the soft sweatshirt and the stained t-shirt as they kissed, though. And, for the moment, Liz forgot all of her worries.

.   .   .

Despite everything, Liz found herself laughing wildly in the back of Twinkie, the rear doors opened. As she sat on the edge of the car’s floor, the carpeting plush against the backs of her thighs, she watched JJ dancing beneath the streetlight. They’d decided to head back to the Chateau, not particularly in the mood to deal with the Kooks who had ventured over to the other side of the island for the rest of the night. John B had thrown JJ the keys while they were still on the beach, instructing his friend to head to the car while he gathered Sarah, Kie, and Pope up. Liz looked more freezing by the minute, and while Twinkie’s heating wasn’t optimal, it was better than braving the ocean wind. John B was partial to being the designated driver, especially on the night of such a big bash. And, of course, especially when they already had supplies for an after party set out on his kitchen table.

Instead of huddling down in the trunk with Liz though, JJ took advantage of the pleasant, alcohol-induced flush warming his skin. He danced along to the Elvis tune playing from the radio in his cutoff Levis. The keys were in the ignition while the car sat in park, the heat blasting and the engine whirring quietly. Liz had heard the song many times on her father’s records. JJ gyrated his hips, ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to create a sloppy pompadour. He wasn’t very drunk, still coordinated enough to make a real show of it.

“Just take a walk down lonely street, to the heartbreak hotel,” JJ sang along, curling his lip in a decent imitation.

Liz snorted and rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but giggled along. Ever since they were little, JJ was always performing, mostly for her. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over her as he watched him, under the makeshift spotlight in the inky blue midnight. Down below, the party raged on, but neither Liz nor JJ took notice any longer. For the moment, it was just the two of them. Eventually, the song faded away and JJ finished his impression. Liz clapped a few times, slow and almost mocking. Pouting at the lackluster response, JJ sat down heavily next to her and put his head on her shoulder. The laughter would suffice to please him; he’d only done the dance to cheer her up, after all, guilty he hadn’t been at the party earlier, when she’d needed him. But he whined playfully, nonetheless.

“Tough fucking crowd.”

“I’m just kidding, sunshine. You were just like the king, alright?” she said, starting to sober up but still focusing on the tingling of her skin at the drinks and his touch. Slinging an arm around his shoulders, she brought him closer and kissed the crown of his head affectionately.

.   .   .

Rolling to a stop, Liz leaned her bike against the oak tree and ran her hands through her hair. It was greasy, and she decided she needed to shower before her lunchtime shift at the Wreck. It was a double, but she’d be back at John B’s by nine, with plans for a chill movie night. Kie and Pope probably wouldn’t make it, more eager for alone time in recent months. But there would still be the four of them. After they all went to bed, Liz could pad over from the pullout couch in the living room to JJ’s bed, as she’d made a habit of doing in the past few weeks. Though she was always annoyed with such a long shift, especially when the damn Tourons were starting their vacation season, it was good to know there was something to look forward to at the end of the day.

The sun was high in the sky, having risen fully, as she ascended the creaky porch steps into her house. The wind chimes near the door jingled quietly in the slight breeze. Doing her best to shut the rusty screen door silently behind her, Liz jumped when she saw her mother already up and having her coffee at the kitchen table. Usually, she was still out cold.

“Hey, mom,” Liz said, forcing a weak smile on her lips. She slipped her backpack from her shoulders and set it down next to the door. Then, she tugged her shoes off and went towards the kitchen.

“Oh, hi,” her mother muttered, yawning, looking up from her paper and over the reading glasses on her nose at her daughter.

Ruth Walker was lately a quiet woman, but still remained every bit as incisive as she had been before her husband died. She watched as Liz poured herself a mug of black coffee, dressed in her cardigan and one of JJ’s t-shirts. Only her skirt was the same from the night before. Liz had been careful to make sure she left her ruined t-shirt at John B’s. The sight of it might have been enough to make her mother burst into tears. Liz’s hair was back in a low ponytail, and Ruth immediately noticed the dark mark peeking out from the neckline of the t-shirt.

“Guess it was a fun party,” Ruth said, eyebrows raised but voice mostly disinterested.

Liz furrowed her brows at her mother’s tone, taking a sip of the coffee and turning to face her. “Hm?”

“That love bite on your neck,” Ruth explained, staring at the hickey.

Immediately, Liz flushed scarlet. She was glad she had left just after JJ, as the rest of the Pogues were still snoring. Certainly, someone would have noticed. They were usually careful, but as high as she and JJ were, she wasn’t entirely surprised they had gotten a bit carried away. She didn’t have time to stutter out a response before her mother continued.

“Just make sure he’s clean. And please don’t get pregnant,” Ruth said, sighing slightly. “Girls your age know nothing about nothing. We can’t add another mouth to feed into the mix. I don’t need that right now.”

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Liz looked down into her coffee and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. You know I won’t.”

Shrugging, Ruth went back to her paper. From her spot leaning against the sink, Liz couldn’t quite make out what her mother was reading, but she knew what it was anyway. Especially since her mother held a red pen in her left hand. She was circling real estate listings from the Figure Eight. Houses they could never even dream of living in. Swallowing harshly, Liz tried not to think too hard about what her mother was doing and instead straightened her back, about to head to the bathroom.

“So, mom, I’m gonna shower and then head to work. I’m probably gonna stay at John B’s again tonight. And maybe a few more nights after, since John has-”

“Fine,” Ruth said flippantly, not bothering to listen to her daughter’s rambled reasonings. “Make good choices.”

Ruth didn’t look up from her paper as she spoke. Liz waited a minute for more, then finally made her way towards the small hallway when her mother kept silent.

[ladynightmare913]

Secret of the Darkened Seas

Welcome to Chapter 3! I want to say thank you Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​ ) who is my best friend and co-author, for inviting me to create this wonderful story with her! This chapter contains many original characters created by Olivia and myself. 

This chapter holds many new faces to join us in our mermaid adventure! All credit for creation goes to each other for our respective characters because we have both spent a lot of time creating our ocs and I would dare to take credit for any of Olivia’s characters. 

Small warning, there is a minor character death. 

As always these chapters contain hidden mermaid lore included within this storyline. They will be explained overtime so don’t worry. The lore from the different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We are not taking credit for her work. 

Now without further adieu! 

Chapter 3: A Sea of Fireworks

Three years passed as The Dragon’s Pearl sailed the seven seas. There had been many fierce battles and grand adventures as Remus learned the ways of the sword from both Captain Hua and First mate Sandoval. During the past few years, Remus found a particular fondness for literature that grew further than when he was younger. Along the way there have been many new companions to join the shipmates, and the secrets of a certain young man were revealed. A year on his own at sea taught Remus many things, but he couldn’t help but miss the company of those upon The Dragons’ Pearl. Now at seventeen years old, the once young boy has grown into a fine young man. 

Under the sea, there was a mythical creature with bright shimmering amber scales, varying in shades of accent tones from the top of his tail, to his fluke. The moonlight breached the surface of the darkened sea, the light reflected off of his amber eyes, as if they began to shine and glow under the moon’s pale beauty. The mer turned down before his arms moved forwards as he dived down deeper into the sea. The deeper he went, the darker it became. As he reached the sea floor, he swam at a leisurely pace, brushing a clawed hand against the sea grass. Looking up, the sea grass became littered with life, crabs, small, fish, seahorses, an octopus, and coral. He chuckled to himself as the fish scattered when he swam near them, a green sea turtle by his side seemed to follow him, wherever he went. It had felt too long since he had last been in the sea. 

The merman’s head turned sharply upwards as he picked up the sound of a muffled screeching noise coming from the surface. Then a muted bang before a flash of scattered gold light. With a strong flick of his tail, the floor beneath him vanished from sight as he neared the surface. 

Breaching from the water, he looks up to the familiar ship with concern, “Opal! What’s happening?!” He yells up to the deck. 

In an instant, a tall beautiful Greek woman, around the age of twenty-three, with long light brown hair, hazel green eyes, lightly tanned skin peered over the railing of the deck to respond. She was dressed in a sea blue off the shoulder long sleeved shirt that was tucked into her light brown pants, with a black corset vest on top, and black boots. At her hip was a wide sword with a dark blue sheathe, and it’s hilt had the detailing of a trident. “Min-Jun received a letter! We have to make port in Portland! The Blacks and Greyback have been spotted off the coast of Dorset!” She lowers the rope ladder and opens the small gate, “Get your tail up here!”

Remus catches the ladder with ease and pulls himself up onto it, “What’s the sudden hurry? We’re currently off the coast of Dorset ourselves.” He comments, looking back up to his friend. 

“Quinn’s family lives in Portland, and he thinks they’ll be going after them!” Opal replies, tossing down a blanket for Remus to dry his scales with.

Remus winces as the blanket lands upon his head, frowning as it blocks his view. Pulling the soft cloth from his head, he sets to work on drying himself and his scales, “But why would they go after his family?” He yells out. 

Opal pauses, a somber look upon her face as she watches Remus make his way up the rope ladder with his two legs, scales now nowhere to be seen. She shakes her head as he reaches the deck, “I don’t know. But I think something’s wrong.”

Two quarters of an hour pass with The Dragon’s Pearl sailing at full speed to Portland. The sea seemed to be at their side that night, the sound of cannon fire reached the members of the crew. The lifeboats were lowered with First mate Sandoval and Remus inside one of the boats. 

Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the pitch black sails of The Ophiuchus which could barely be seen from a distance. The ship’s colors had a black flag with a white skull with a snake coming out of an eye socket. The Blacks. The ancient pirate ship passed down from generation to generation of Blacks. Rumors and tales continuously traveled from sailors aboard many ships about the family, the ship gaining the nickname of Grimmauld amongst the gossiping sailors. Remus had heard many tales himself in the past. The Blacks were ruthless in their pliage for gold, leaving no survivors. There were tales of The Ophiuchus battling The Dragon’s Pearl when Captain Orion Black attempted to steal the other Captain’s ship. Although Captain Hua was young, he forced the Blacks to flee when their ship suffered too much damage. The Captain of The Dragon’s Pearl had given them a warning years ago that should he ever see them again, he would kill the Captain of The Ophiuchus.              

The boats reached the docks before everyone ran up to the small town of Portland. Quinn cut down any pirate who foolishly stood in his way. Remus followed close behind, sword drawn at the ready and cut down any pirate who tried to go after Quinn whilst the man’s back was turned. Remus had grown used to the occasional battle, but hardly ever were the stakes this high. Opal and Captain Hua had stayed on the ship with a skeleton crew, while the other sailors joined Remus and Quinn to shore. 

Remus stopped in his tracks when one of the pirates was running straight for him. With the sword in his hand, Remus quickly stabbed the pirate in the abdomen before pulling his sword free and running to catch up with Quinn. Who was running up a hill towards the Lighthouse faster than Remus had ever seen the man move. Up close the Lighthouse was rather beautiful for it’s old age, time had been kind to it, yet the years have clearly made their marks all throughout the house. The lighthouse more than likely had many stories to tell. Standing tall with red and white patterns, a small quaint cottage at the base of the lighthouse became visible as Remus neared the property. The house was alight with shadows dancing across the windows as pirates breached the door, the sound of clanging swords could be heard coming from inside the house. Quinn cut down pirates until he finally managed to enter the house. 

Quinn’s eyes widened as he surveyed the state of the house, there were countless pirates from both the Black’s and Greyback’s sailors engaged in sword fights. There was hardly a break as he entered the fray of battle, cutting down unsuspecting men from behind and never letting his guard down.

A middle aged woman with black hair tied into a messy bun, bright brown eyes, fair skin and rosy lips gripped the rapier in her hand tightly as she slashed down another pirate. She twirled expertly, her white nightgown and dark robe twirling with her, to dodge a blow from another pirate before she stabs them, she pulls the sword free before she raises it to the man who just entered the cottage, freezing as her eyes widen in surprise. “Quinn!” She exclaimed before her eyes darted to a pirate behind him who began to stir awake. 

He smiles at the exclamation before following her line of sight, turning behind him he sees the pirate that began to stir awake. Flipping the hilt of his sword in hand, he stabs the newly conscious pirate in the chest before turning back to the woman, “Mother are you alright?” He looked over the cottage, objects just laying scatter on the floor before he looked back to his mother. 

“I’m perfectly alright, it’s your father I’m worried about, that blasted Greyback cornered him to the basement!” The woman turned her gaze to the young man who just reached the door, quickly assessing him before offering him a small nod. “And you must be Remus.”  

Remus nods in return, “I am. How did you-” He cuts himself off as the answer was obvious and gives his First mate a pointed look, “Quinn. You’ve told them about me haven’t you?”

“Remus. Who do you take me for? Of course I did.” Quinn mirrors the same pointed look back, “How else do you think Min-Jun and I were able to help you as a child?” He looks back to his mother, “We better move quickly. Hopefully father is using the basement to his advantage.”

“Quinn, this is your father, of course he is.” The woman turns to a door that leads to a staircase to the basement. Quickly lifting her skirt the woman rushed down the stairs. 

The three rush down the stairs and into the large dimly lit basement, which could only be described as a very large study with storage. Bookshelves lined the walls and the shelves themselves were stacked with a variety of mythical things one would only believe to be within the tales. Color bottles and vials littered the shelves of the room, various plants were in every corner of the room. In the center of the basement, a large man with a cutlass scoured the room with a harsh glare for the man who was hiding. The man wielding the cutlass was large, nearly the height of Min-Jun and Quinn, he had a vicious looking face, with very long matted grey hair in dreads, a scar going across his right eye, the iris pale compared to it’s twin which was pitch black. His left ear had a gold hoop earring, his teeth were visible as he sneered at others who interrupted his dual. 

Remus’ eyes could only widen as he looked upon the large man, his breathing quickening and grip tightening on his sword. Every part of him grew defensive and fearful, his instincts screaming at him to get out. To run. He’s heard of this man before, Fenrir Greyback, notorious and ruthless hunter of mers alike, capturing and selling mers for profit, or simply to just experiment on them. Other times he’d simply slaughter any merfolk he could find.

Greyback’s knuckles looked raw and battered with blood as he gripped his weapon tightly, his long yellowish nails were easily spotted as his right hand pressed against his chest, a wound with fresh blood seeping through his grey shirt. “This isn’t over.” He snarled before he ran out the basement door. 

Hidden behind a bookcase, was a middle aged man with tousled red-brown hair with long bangs parted to the left, light colored skin and blue eyes. He wore a simple navy blue shirt underneath a grey robe, light brown pants and dark brown boots. Eyes trained as he watched the burly man closely, sword drawn at the ready to continue the duel. He made no notion to move as Greyback snarled in warning, back pressed flush against the wood until he could hear the pounding footsteps a safe distance away. 

Relaxing marginally, he exits his retreat behind the bookcase and sighs, “That man is repulsive.” He mutters under his breath.

“You’re not wrong about that father.” Quinn chuckles as he gently pats his father’s shoulder. 

“Why would Greyback come all the way out here? Why would he attack you?” Remus looked at the older man.

“Probably because my husband has something he wants.” The older woman looks to her husband. “Are you alright?”  

The older man looks to his wife and nods, “I’m alright. If anything Greyback’s in much worse shape. That wound is going to leave quite a scar if untreated.”

“What was he after?” Remus looked between the older couple. 

“Something no one should know exists.” The woman looked around the room. Muttering under her breath at the state of the room. “But rumors are a powerful thing, especially when they hold truths.” 

“And especially if it makes you incredibly well known in the nautical world.” The man continued with a sigh. Moving aside his robe, he pulls free a rather thick leather book from an inner pocket and looks down to it. “He’d be a fool to think I’d just leave it lying about.”

Remus’ eyes looked over the leather book. At first glance it was nothing out of the ordinary, but Remus knew better than to judge a book by its cover. It was what’s inside the book that Greyback took a slash to the chest in order to obtain. And failed. Whatever information that was contained inside the book was important. Why else would such a siege upon this small home occur? Enough to bring both Greyback and the Blacks themselves here. 

“This book is the only one in existence.”  The woman looked at Remus as she stood beside her husband. “It’s about your kind.” Gently taking the book from her husbands’ hands, she holds the book to Remus. “My husband wrote everything he learned about the magical creatures of the sea.” She smiles as she encourages Remus to take the book. 

“About my kind…” He repeats at a whisper before a realization comes to mind, amber eyes widening at the thought, “That’s why he wanted the book. To hunt more merfolk.” A cold shudder runs down his spine at the thought of Greyback getting his hands upon this book. No wonder the older man fought to protect it with his life. Mers alike would be in even more danger than in the past. And after seeing the man in person, Remus felt as though the rumors didn’t give any accurate insight as to how gruesome the pirate actually appeared, and the snarling tone of his voice would most likely echo in his mind for days. 

At the older man’s nod in confirmation, he looked back at him.  “How long have you been working on this?” Remus asked as he took the book, with careful hands.

“Many years. I was a bit younger than you when I first started writing the beginning pages.”

Remus looks down to the worn leather book and opens to a well kept page, Fantastic Nautical Creatures, by Newt Scamander.  Remus’ eyes widen at the title and familiar name, pausing mid turn of a page. Wait. Remus looks to Quinn with wide eyes, before he looks back to the older couple. 

“You’re Newt Scamander,” He looks to the woman, “And you’re Porpetina Scamander!” 

“Please, call me Tina dear.” She rubs Remus’ arm in a comforting manner. 

Remus looks to Quinn, an unreadable expression upon his face. Quinn had called them mother and father. That means… “You’re their son?!” 

“Quinton Scamander is my real name.” Quinn answered with a simple shrug. “Sandoval was the first thing I could come up with when you asked for my name. I’m not exactly used to keeping an alias.” He looks at his parents. “Why couldn’t you have just kept it at Quinn?” 

“And leave the Scamander tradition of giving horrible names? I couldn’t possibly.” Tina chuckled.

“Oh, you wound me mother. What a way to keep tradition.” Quinn replies with a wince. 

“It’s not like my family did any better.” Tina retorts just as the sound of cannon fire boomed, echoing throughout the basement. Tensing, everyone turned their heads to the back door, and with a nod from Newt, they exited the damaged basement and headed to the cliffs.

As the group ran back towards the shoreline, Remus could see The Dragon’s Pearl exchanging cannon fire with The Ophiuchus.  The ships both suffered blows from the other, only The Dragon’s Pearl wasn’t on fire. And what appeared to be Min-Jun, swinging on a rope, from the Ophiuchus back to the Dragon’s Pearl.

Quinn only groaned at the sight. “And he gives me lectures about swinging from rope.” Hypocrite. “Why are you like this…” He mumbled under his breath.

Tina and Newt only chuckled as their son scowled at the captain. They ran to the docks just as the Ophiuchus began to make their retreat, and the Dragon’s Pearl making its way to the loading docks. Opal was the first rush down to welcome Quinn and Remus back. 

Quinn had a strange feeling, one that he couldn’t place as he looked over Opal. Relieved that the woman wasn’t injured in the crossfire, although he was well aware that she could easily handle herself. “Ti synévi?” What happened?  He asked.

“To shorten it: Min-Jun snuck onto Greyback’s ship, found two mermaids. Brought them back, then proceeded to sneak onto the Ophiuchus, rescue the second Black heir and brought him back.” Opal said with a shake of her head, “How he managed that… I have no idea.” 

“Sounds about right.” Newt replied with a chuckle.

The older couple looked at their son, who had never told them he learned and spoke greek. Newt and Tina looked to each other before sharing a knowing smile. Tina looked to the woman with the greek accent. “I’m Tina Scamander, Quinn’s mother. I wonder why my dear son would fail to mention a lovely lady such as yourself in his letters?” She turns her head slowly to glare at Quinn, who found the sea far more interesting at the moment. Tina looked back to the young woman. “What is your name dear?” 

Opal watched Quinn’s gaze quickly turn to the sea in embarrassment. Oh this awkward man. She fought the urge to tease the poor man she loved, there was time to mess with him another time. Not in front of his parents. She smiled as she looked at Tina. “Opal Teresi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Remus looked to Quinn with a teasing smirk, “Really? You mention me in your letters but not Opal?” 

“Shut. Up.” Quinn says with wide eyes that seemed to promise pain with an unnaturally wide smile.

“You’ll have to write to me dear, Quinn hardly ever writes what’s going on in his life. I have to rely on Min-Jun for that.” She tsks she pats Opal’s hand affectionately.  

“I will.” Opal replies with a nod. 

“May I see them?” Newt asks the young woman. “The mermaids.” 

The young woman pauses for a moment and looks to Newt, “They’re terrified, so yes, please. If there’s any way you could help.”

“Maybe I can get them to calm down?” Remus suggests looking to Opal and Newt. 

“That may be for the best.” Opal agrees, “We better hurry aboard, Min-Jun wants to leave as soon as possible. Before the Blacks notice their son is missing.”  

Opal leads the group to the cabins, walking past many doors until they finally stop at one door with a circular window. Remus peered inside and froze when a pair of glaring eyes locked to his. Inside the room, there was a tall beautiful asian woman with wet long dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin and bright red lips. She looked to be about Opal’s age. Her tail was a dazzling array of soft blue scales that looked like mis-shapened spots, with white scales as the base, her flue was nearly a translucent shimmery white. Her skin was pale, her arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller mer. Her tail coiled around them protectively. Remus’ nearly gasped. The mermaid only clutched the child tighter, her glare never leaving Remus’ face.

The mer in her arms was tiny. A child, who couldn’t have been older than four. The mer child had short soft silky black hair that was in a disarray, brown eyes, light sun kissed skin. The child clung tightly to the older mermaid's neck, their tail had pale teal and shimmery white scales with the same patterns as the older mermaid, safely tucked under her arms. The mer child’s shoulders were shaking, pearls littered the blankets beneath them. Tears. They sat alone in the room, laying on top of a few spare blankets for the cabin beds.

Remus’ gaze was pulled away at the sound of running footsteps, a sailor running past them in haste, to the infirmary. On impulse, Remus followed the sailor as they walked through the door. 

There Min-Jun sat on a chair, looming over a deathly still figure, his face pale. Min-Jun was holding the still figure’s hand. 

Remus gulped, scared to find out who the figure was. “Who…” 

Min-Jun looked up to see Remus. With pained eyes he looked back down to the figure. Gently putting the cold hand to rest on their chest. 

“Ethan’s dead.” 

[thesweetnessofspring]

The last chapter of Roses and Pearls had a really big spoiler happen, and I know that some people will be catching up, so the sneak peek for this Thursday's chapter is below the cut. Beware the big spoilers if you haven't read Chapter Twenty-Seven yet!

“District 13 did this, didn’t they?” I challenge him. “You’re obsessed with having babies and Rosalia was just an opportunity to bake one up. It was you people who let her in my cell that night, didn’t you?” “Soldier Mellark, you are acting irrational,” Dr. Watson says. “Your brain is still learning to process emotional information—” “Don’t make this about my brain!” I shout. “I’ve been here for months, I’m not stupid!” “I can explain everything,” Rosalia says in a cool tone, still resting back in her chair with her stomach exposed. I can’t look at her for more than a second before my stomach twists.

[mimik-u]

Flower Child (Chapter 12): Monday

AO3

i.

Monday morning found Yellow Diamond in her study, watching nothing as dawn slowly drew itself around her like a pinkish cape. The shadows under her eyes pooled in the soft light, and the crow’s feet edging them became stark, black, defined. (God, when was the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep? When was the last time she hadn’t stayed awake—fighting and chasing away and courting sordid demons? When was the last time she’d seen a proper bed?) Even still, she was already impeccably dressed for it to not even be seven yet. Her golden hair was swept upwards in a coiffure sharp enough to cut yourself on, and she wore a black suit in the matter-of-fact way that the sky wore the sun. Her heels were perfectly practical (thank you very much), her face meticulously painted on.

Put together but not quite, she stared at nothing.

Maybe the wall.

Maybe the minuscule crack in the door.

And could not bring herself to think about the three meetings she had today, so consumed by the thought of Blue.

Blue was getting out today.

She would assume the stage.

She would get into a town car and not go to the cemetery where their dead daughter lay.

The world would spin on, and for once—for the first time in four years—her wife would spin with it.

It made Yellow so damn happy.

And it made her so damn sad at the same time.

Blue was moving… not on, never on… but forward.

And it wouldn’t be because of Yellow.

She took an impulsive drag of her coffee and half-hoped it would scald her.

(She hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been.)

When the analog clock on the wall unwillingly dragged her into the next minute, the CEO finally slid her golden gaze from the door to the intercom panel propped next to her lamp. She pressed one of the buttons, eliciting a crackling noise at first, before the line was abruptly snagged by a voice that was equal parts panic and equal parts sleep: “Yes, Mrs. Diamond?!”

“Did I wake you?” Of course, Yellow knew that she had, but she at least had enough courtesy to feign otherwise.

“No, ma’am!” Poppy gamely lied. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to do a favor for me,” she said, biting her lip. She could have added please to let the maid know that she was serious, but reticence was this particular woman’s both strength and weakness.

“Anything, Mrs. Diamond!”

“You can knock that off now. We’ve already established who I am.”

“Of course, Mrs—” Poppy caught herself with a little squeak. “O-of course.”

Yellow sighed—quite dramatically in proportion to the circumstances really—but pressed on anyway. “I need you to call up to the flower shop and send an arrangement to someone in Empire City Hospital. I’ll leave my credit card on the desk.”

It wasn’t a particularly unusual request. Yellow was sending flowers and champagne bottles to business associates all the time. Even through the staticky transmission, she could hear Poppy scribbling these directions down on paper.

The scratching stopped. “And whom shall I direct the flowers to, ma’am?”

She inhaled sharply.

Oh, hell and shit.

She only knew the kid’s name and approximate age (older than five but certainly younger than twenty).

“His name is Steven,” she sniffed haughtily (to disguise her ignorance, of course). “Young boy. You should be able to locate him.”

“A-ah, yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Yellow leaned back in her chair and looked quite pleased with herself until she just as suddenly didn’t; with a sudden thought, her dark brow depressed into a frown over her eyes. (When was the last time that her mouth and eyes and chest unbent in a smile? When was the last time worry didn’t transform her entire physiognomy, didn’t make her appear ten years older—ten years more grim and demanding and cold?)

“And, Poppy?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Make it anonymous.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

ii.

Monday morning found Poppy on the verge of hysterics as she called three different extensions in Empire City Hospital trying to inquire after a sick boy named Steven.

No, she didn’t know his last name!

No, she couldn’t tell you a room number!

No, she most certainly was not pranking them!

Gah!

iii.

Monday morning found Priyanka Maheswaran nursing her third tumbler of coffee as she surveyed Steven’s guardians from over its rim. In Room 11037, they stood in the empty space where Steven’s bed had once been. The technicians had just taken him down for a couple of scans for UNOS, but even though the five adults in the room objectively knew that, the absence of the boy unnerved the air. Abandoned wires spilled across the scorchingly white floor. The heart monitor on the wall was a flat black, leering at them with its emptiness.

Pearl’s hair seemed to be positively standing on edge.

They were all in shambles—each of them, in their own ways.

The doctor gathered herself into some semblance of professionalism and half-wondered if such posturing was but an exercise in pointlessness. Surely, these people could see through the cracks, the holes in her carefully constructed facade.

Surely, they knew that she cared.

“I’m going to be blunt with you—”

Amethyst cut across her with a wry smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “You always are, Dr. M.”

“True,” Priyanka conceded with a sigh, “and so I see no reason to be anything else with you all.”

She was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct.

Greg’s eyes bore her down, were haunting in their worn sockets.

It was his damn child.

It’d once been his damn girlfriend.

(At the funeral, he pressed Steven against his chest and wept in place of a eulogy.)

“Even with dialysis,” she said, clutching her cup like it was a lifeline, “and even with the extra support we’re giving him here in the hospital, we’re still racing against the clock. His heart is working harder to compensate his kidneys, and his lungs are working harder to compensate his heart.”

He was dying.

That was the cold and hard truth.

Priyanka did not say it, for she didn’t need to—the unspoken words landed in the room anyway, striking precisely, like bullets, the carnage written all over their faces. Pearl’s hands on her stomach were gored with it. There was a third eye on Garnet’s head where her troubled brow met in the middle.

(At the funeral, Pearl had to be lightly pulled away from the casket. She stared at nothing. She said nothing. She stared at Rose.)

(At the funeral, people whispered that Garnet was callous for looking so stoic, so put together, so tearless. They didn’t notice her hands, how they trembled by her sides.)

“Ya gotta say something, Doc,” Amethyst said when the silence got to be too much, when the room started to feel too empty. The air around her was frenetic, charged. She looked liable to be both the predator and the prey trapped in a corner. “That’s what’s wrong. Now what’s the solution?”

(At the funeral, Amethyst cried openly, viscerally, and yet, still found the strength to pull Pearl away from the casket, to squeeze Garnet’s hand, to hold Steven when Greg had to bury his face in his hands.)

(At the funeral, Priyanka made herself notice all of these little things, forced herself to carve them into her memory, one scalpel incision at a time, as both a punishment and a reminder. Somehow, someway, she could have done better, could have been better. Moving forward, she would, dammit. She would never attend another funeral like this.)

“The solution, of course,” she sighed, “is a viable kidney, and I know you don’t want to hear that. I know that it’s the same thing I said last time and the time before that, but dammit, that’s what it’s going to take.” 

If anger seared the edge of this proclamation, it was not an anger intended for the broken people standing across from her. It was for the woefully inadequate transplant system where eighteen people across the world died every day because they couldn’t get the organ they so desperately needed. It was for the unfair fact that neither Greg nor Amethyst nor Garnet nor Pearl were matches for the boy they would all give their lives to protect. No hesitation. No blinking. It was for the incredulous idea—ludicrous, absurd, preposterous!—that even if they did find a kidney, that this family wouldn’t have the means to pay for it because health care was so screwed up in this damn country.

If Priyanka was angry, it was for the utter insanity of it all.

The madness.

There was no rationality in a fourteen-year old dying.

“It’s so perverse,” Pearl whispered into the silence, “that we’re here again.”

It was a familiar stage, a familiar scene.

Just someone else in the bed that had once contained a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile—a brilliant, compassionate heart.

Garnet looked away, clenched her fists by her sides.

“It has to end differently, though,” Greg said, a plea in his voice and his eyes. It was scratched across his entire body. It was a scar. “I… I can’t… do that again. I can’t lose him.”

It was wonder that he didn’t shatter where he stood, that they all didn’t. Amethyst reached up and placed a hand on his back.

(This was a familiar image, too.)

(Hell, it was a memory—simply transplanted into the here and now.)

“Greg… all of you—” She began and abruptly stopped. Priyanka Maheswaran was as sharp as one of her surgical instruments and equally as direct, but for once in her life, she didn’t want to be. She wanted to tell this family that their kid was going to make it, that they’d find him a kidney, that the surgery would go well, that love and joy and peace would win at the end of the damn day. She wanted to give them hope; she desperately wanted a modicum of the sensation for herself.

But what could she say?

What could she possibly fucking say?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking, “but this is all I have.”

iv.

Monday morning found Connie Maheswaran unfolded across the backseat of her dad’s cruiser, scrolling through another medical journal, only occasionally stopping to jot down notes in a tab-marked, dog-eared, well-worn, well-loved composition book. When he wasn’t pretending to be interested in his heretofore very boring stakeout, her father’s wire-rimmed glasses peered at her from the rearview mirror.

“You’re sure looking studious for it to be a sunny day in July,” he quipped lightly. Some old alternative band warbled through his ancient cassette deck as he said it, lending him an inadvertent lyricalness. Connie, penciling down donor qualifications in her neat handwriting, mmm’d in distracted reply.

“Oh, I get it,” he shrugged playfully, feigning hurt. “You’re busy. Alas, I’d forgotten the singleminded passions of youth so removed am I by the passage of time. Woe unto me!”

“You’re such a dork, Dad.”

Donors must have a compatible blood type with the patient.

“Oh?” He raised a bushy eyebrow in the mirror. “Is that a polysyllabic response I hear?”

Donors must be in good physical and mental health before consenting to the surgery.

A master of irony, Connie sparred back with a nice and succinct, “Yep.”

Donors must be at least eighteen-years old to qualify for surgery.

These six words were logical, reasonable, were only to be expected—and yet, ice dropped through the twelve-year old’s stomach anyway; a burning sensation pricked the corners of her eyes. She wiped at these feelings furiously, scrubbed them away with the back of her hand.

“Touché,” her dad sighed.

v.

Monday morning found Pearl dragging her feet against the wooden deck, her overnight bag dripping carelessly from her shoulder, a world and a boy and a boy who was her world pressing against the column of her spine. Her fingers shook as they fumbled first with her keys and then with the handle of the screen door. 

The hot, July sun taunted her pale neck one last time before she finally escaped into the dark house… only to be immediately swallowed by its emptiness.

God, it was desolate.

So wrong and so vile.

Gray light wept onto the wooden floors.

To her left, there was no Steven in a bed that was left unmade from the last night he’d slept in it. M.C. Bear Bear dangled halfway off the mattress, deserted and derelict without the boy who brought him to life with a smile and a laugh.

To her right, the reading nook in the corner of the room almost looked untouched, betrayed only by a slight crookedness skewing one of the cushions. Steven had knelt there, and Steven had fallen, and now Steven wouldn’t be leaving the hospital for a very long time if… if… if?

(If ever again.)

The dull thud of his fall echoed in her head.

It dropped into the pit of her stomach and ruined her.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said, and Priyanka Maheswaran never said sorry, "but this is all I have.”)

Pearl clutched her rumpled shirt and tried not to shatter as she limped further into the living room, where a lump on the couch caught the corner of her eye. 

The lump, of course, was Peridot, wrapped in a blanket and snoring slightly. Without her glasses on, she looked particularly young—vulnerable. (Though, ferocious as she was, she’d claw someone’s eyes out before ever acquiescing to such gooey epithets.) 

Pearl didn’t necessarily want to wake her, but she didn’t want to leave her on the hard couch either, so in the end, she approached quietly and skimmed her knuckles lightly against the girl’s exposed shoulder.

Emerald eyes flew open with a jolt.

A startled cat tore from under the blanket and streaked out of the room.

“Nyeh!” 

“Sorry,” Pearl apologized as Peridot scrambled to find her bearings and her glasses and a little shred of dignity, too. Once her frames were adjusted on her pointed nose, she looked positively scandalized—which was fair, of course. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here. I’m going to nap for a few hours before my shift, so you’re welcome to go home for a bit or crash in a bed if you’d like.”

But scandal turned into realization turned into somberness in the other’s face.

Pearl found that she wasn’t ready to face it; her duffel bag slipped slightly on her shoulder.

“Where’s Lapis?” She tried quickly, but Peridot was quicker—intuitive and stubborn, a deadly combination.

“Swim practice. Never mind her.” Peridot waved a flippant hand. “How’s Steven?”

She knew the litany of lies by heart now.

He’s fine.

He’s stable.

He’s resting.

He’s fine.

And she tried to summon one on her lips for Peridot—she tried so damn hard to stay together—but how could she?

How could she fucking do it?

“… Pearl?”

"Peridot, I... I—" Tears leaked from her eyes.

And dripped down her beaky nose.

And splattered her sweater with their ruin.

Something was building in her stomach, in her chest, in the column of her throat.

And she tried splaying her fingers across her mouth, tried damming up the carnage, but—

"Pearl!"

—she was falling apart.

Or she'd already done so.

And this was just the explicit proof:

Pearl collapsed to her knees and wept.

vi.

Monday morning found Greg Universe on his metaphorical knees. He was desperation reconciled, a man not really sitting on a bench, so much as he was a man being supported by one. A phone was in his hand; there was an exhaustion on his shoulders.

“Ya could have called me sooner, y’know,” Greg’s cousin said on the other end of the line. There wasn’t admonition in the sentence, just resignation.

And concern.

And grief.

Andy had just met Steven a couple of months ago, but like all people who came into his son’s orbit, found it impossible not to love him, not to care. Andy had taken him up in his old plane and shown him the stars, and Steven had shown that cantankerous old coot that he didn’t have to roam the world looking for home.

Greg spidered his hand across his forehead and looked down at the concrete between his feet—the minuscule cracks in the pavement, the imperfect rubble. He burned all over; he wanted to burn the world to the ground; he wished the ground would swallow him whole; his son was sick.

“I didn’t want to face it, Andy,” he whispered, his voice strained tight, on the verge of breaking. “I’ve already lost Rose… I didn’t… I couldn’t—”

But his cousin took pity on him and quickly cut him off. “—I know, kiddo… I know. Listen, I’ll go get tested and get back to ya, okay?”

“Okay.” He closed his sagging eyes. “Thanks.”

“Tell Champ that I’m gonna bring him something cool the next time I fly down there.” Andy’s thick Jersey accent was slung with emotion (or whiskey one), all the hard consonants broken and slurred. “Ya got that, ya bald bastard?”

Greg chuckled lifelessly. “Yeah, I hear you loud and clear.”

“Good man,” and the phone clicked off just as warm hand landed quietly on his shoulder, drawing him back from the darkness. Of course, it was Garnet, who had been his companion in exhausting their contact lists and asking friends and family to get tested. Of course, it was Garnet who always knew exactly what he needed in the moment that he did.

She was steady like that, dependable.

Somehow, he found it in himself to wonder who was the same for her? Who was steady? Who was dependable? Who was the shoulder she leaned upon, if she needed to lean at all?

She’d always been so self-sufficient, so contained and in control.

Or was it Steven?

The possibility hit him suddenly, like a train.

(He thought on it; he chewed; he concluded: it was probably Steven.)

“You can’t beat yourself up, Greg,” she murmured. Sunlight glinted across her sunglasses, eradicating even the suggestion of her eyes beneath them. “We didn’t think we’d be here this fast. We thought we’d have more…”

“…time,” he finished quietly and choked a little at the end.

(“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran had said. He then waited for the blow, and she promptly delivered. “But this is all I have.”)

There wasn’t any more time.

There was only waiting and hoping and waiting and hoping and—

They’d been waiting and hoping for eight months now.

Garnet’s fingernails dug into his shirt.

“S’not that I want to be hard on myself,” he mumbled, swiping clumsily at his snotting nose. “It’s just that I feel like I’m failing my kid, y’know? He’s in there fighting for his life, and I… I can’t do anything about it!”

The concrete mocked him with its gray, blank face; he wished it would rise up from the ground and strike him; he’d give anything if it would clock him cold; he deserved it; or maybe he didn’t; maybe everything was all screwed up, and he just didn’t really want to feel a damn thing—for hours at a time, for days.

“But, Greg,” Garnet whispered, her voice tight around the edges, her grip on him tighter. “Look at you. Look at that phone in your hand. We’ve been calling people all morning. We’ve been fighting for him for months.” She almost sounded angry, which was a rarity in and of itself for this particular woman who so masterfully boxed all of her emotions down and away. “That isn’t nothing.”

But then, suddenly, without warning, further complicating everything he knew about her, Garnet balled her free hand into a fist and knocked it hard against the bench. Her knuckles came back imprinted with the striations in the wood.

“It can’t be nothing,” she growled. “All of this can’t be for nothing. He can’t just—” But she stopped short, apparently choked, and Greg closed his eyes again.

Steven could just die, and that would be that.

It would be their entire world.

It would all be for nothing.

The sun was so damn bright today; it burned, and it burned, and it burned.

vi.

Monday found Amethyst teetering beneath a hella big flower arrangement as she stumbled into Room 11037.

God, the container was almost as huge as her head and just as full of crap—which was to say, beautiful sunflowers whose golden petals unfurled symmetrically around dark anthers. The strain of carrying it reddened her fingers as she did well to deposit it on the moveable tray Steven ordinarily used as a table when he ate.

(Not that he did eat.)

(Not really.)

The thud of the vase hitting the table jolted Steven from what had been a half-lidded gaze to a well-alert panic.

“Wha—?”

“Sorry, Steven,” she apologized, still panting from the exertion. She then leaned against the foot of his bed, wrapping one of her newly sore arms against the frame. “Didn’t mean for that to be so loud. Stupid thing was just so heavy.”

Encumbered as he was by wires, he couldn’t really move his head to take a closer look at the arrangement, but all the same, panic softened in his eyes—became appreciation and awe in a blink.

It hurt Amethyst to look at him.

(She would never look away.)

“Ohmygosh!” he croaked in one impressive breath. “These are so pretty. Who sent them?”

“Beats me,” Amethyst shrugged, quite unfortunately exacerbating the soreness in her shoulders. “Nurse said that your secret admirer wanted to stay anonymous.”

“Aw,” he grinned, “I have a secret admirer?”

“Ahahaha, somethin’ like that. Could it be the old lady?” Not that anyone was asking, but she thought it was quite admirable of herself to show restraint enough not to go with a more colorful moniker. “She’s rich enough to send something as fancy-schmancy as this.”

Steven thought on it for a moment—lifted his dark eyes towards the ceiling and hummed tentatively. The fluorescents overhead crowned his black hair with a harsh halo and illuminated the deep grooves beneath his eyes, the hollows in his face, the yellowish pallor of his skin.

Jaundice was setting in, making a fine mockery of his youth.

(God, would it hurt to just look away just once?)

“Truuuuuue,” he eventually conceded, “but I don’t know why she just wouldn’t bring them with her.”

Oh, yeah.

That was something that was happening.

It was a hella good thing Pearl was working today.

“Oh, yeah. She’s coming later, isn’t she?”

“Yup. Two o’clock.” Amethyst glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall—it was nearly one—and then turned back to him, a small frown puckering at her lips.

“That isn’t a long time from now.”

“And?”

“And, buddy, my pal, my friend,” Amethyst smiled bitterly, “I hope you know what you’re gonna say to her because you look like shit.”

“Rude!” He stuck his tongue out and approximated some semblance of a faux offended expression, but his brow furrowed above his bruised eyes all the same.

These past three days had done their number on Steven, and he was a far cry from the boy who bounced in the elevator ride up to Blue Diamond’s opulent penthouse suite, and he was absolutely the ghost of the kid he was eight months ago.

(He used to pounce on Amethyst’s back and demand that she fake wrestle with him.)

(He used to play on the beach for hours.)

(He’d been so vibrant and alive and present and capable, and God, how was it even fair that he wasn’t anymore?)

“Just tellin’ the truth,” Amethyst sighed. “I dunno much about her, but going off the bathrobe and smudged mascara alone, I wouldn’t guess that she’s got a strong constitution.”

Steven batted back with a worldweary sigh of his own.

“I know,” he murmured, “but, also, like, I dunno, Amethyst—I think strength for her might just be wandering around in a bathrobe, you know?” On top of his blankets, he softly skimmed his thumb across the knuckles of his other hand, careful to avoid all of the intravenous lines. “Honestly, I think… she might struggle with even that.”

The translation was clear in his face: Blue Diamond struggled to even be.

At that very moment, Amethyst was simultaneously irritated and sympathetic, understanding and unkind. She began to pick viciously at one of the loose threads in Steven’s blanket; her long bangs fell unceremoniously over her right eye.

“If that’s true, then she might break just seeing you, Steven.”

He thought on this, too, closing his eyes and settling his thumb across the ridges of his knuckles.

She hated when he did this.

Hated how still he looked.

(And yet, she still couldn’t bring herself look away.)

“Maybe”—he opened his eyes—“but maybe not… I want to help her, Amethyst. I think she needs it.”

You're the one who needs help, she wanted to say.

(He looked so sincere as he said it, so kind and warm and believing in the idea that a broken, old lady could be saved by his smile alone.)

You don’t owe a damn thing to this lady.

(He didn't owe a damn thing to all of the other people he'd helped, but he still did it anyway.)

Take care of yourself.

(What more could he do?)

Fight for yourself.

(What more could any of them do?)

For me.

(I can't lose you, buddy.)

For us.

(We'd be lost.)

But those options would fundamentally be unSteven, and it was so Steven to be so damn selfless, to extend a flower to a grieving woman in a cemetery, a hand and his stupidly big heart to what was clearly a person in need.

“Yeah,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion, “I gotcha.”

On that tray that he used but didn’t use because he couldn’t hold down solid food anymore, a flower head leaned towards Steven, as though it was itching to say hello.

vii.

Monday found Blue Diamond standing at the threshold of the exit (and the beginning), her long hand pale against the handle that she had been gripping for hours now—weeks, months, years.

(It’d been minutes, but time swallowed her up and spit her out back again. She was here in her penthouse suite preparing to visit a boy in the hospital; she was in that fatal night from all those many years ago, screaming.)

She was coming, Steven Universe.

Her silvery hair swept down her back in its signature braid; a dress, not a bathrobe, unfolded down her curvy frame. 

In just a moment or hours from now—weeks, months, maybe years—she would walk out of the door.

(It would be a few minutes; it’d be a near panic attack; it would be bravery.)

She was coming.

[e350tb]

Steven Universe: Marooned Together - Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Seven

In over twenty years, no outside invader had ever come to New Earth.

Sure there had been problems - the recent coup, only five years previous, still weighed heavily on everybody’s minds. But as far as Homeworld went, the people of New Earth considered themselves safe. This was their haven, for human and gem alike, where the Diamonds saw nothing and knew nothing. Sure, there was a Home Guard - their green uniforms and simple tin hats making them much less imposing to the population than the Human Resistance - but that was to help the pirates and scavengers, not to actually have to protect the people.

It was a lovely image of total, insular safety.

And, incidentally, it was also a lie, which was about to be shattered.

Life in New Earth was changing, which wasn’t so much a shift in epochs as it was a way of life in the fluctuating settlement.

Every time they returned, Stevonnie was told of some new expansion or technological marvel brought online to help the people, of new areas often literally bolted onto the city. Building out was hard, because New Earth was basically on a platform floating in space, so increasingly they built up. The new towers contrasted the older buildings - they were uniform in colour, pastel greens and glossy blues, looking almost like something that might have been seen on Homeworld. The time of scarcity had passed away, and now they had something approaching… if not plenty, then certainly sufficiency.

It boggled their head, and as they wandered the new streets, they realised more and more that they didn’t belong here. It was too big, too crowded, too bright in some places and too dark in others. They’d grown accustomed to their little island, where things moved at a slower pace.

They wondered if that meant there was something wrong with them.

“So we have a penthouse now,” said Peedee, leaning back on his chair outside the Diamond’s Lament. They had stopped here for a break before heading up to Jeff and Peedee’s new home.

“It’s not a penthouse, Peedee,” replied Jeff, with exasperation of someone who’d had to say this multiple times, “It’s an apartment at the top of one of the new towers. It’s no better than anyone else's.”

“He’s being modest,” chuckled Peedee.

“I am not,” said Jeff firmly, “I am not using my power as a mayor to let you live in luxury! The Bismuths have better things to do then…”

Stevonnie sighed.

“What’s wrong, ‘Von?” asked Lapis, putting a hand on their partner’s shoulder.

“Sorry, just… thought of Bismuth for a second there,” replied Stevonnie, “You were saying?”

“It is a step up, though,” mused Jeff, “We built the old apartments out of scraps, and now… it’s like living on Earth, but…”

“But it’s not at all,” finished Peedee.

“Yeah,” sighed Jeff, “Not at all.”

There was a long, sober silence.

Then Peedee grinned impishly and began to speak in a deep, raspy voice.

“But New Earth makes the best condos…”

“Peedee, don’t…”

“...at the best prices,” continued Peedee, “‘Cause I’m Jeff. Eat Jeff Steaks.”

“Peedee, I swear to god…”

Lapis chuckled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but the voice is funny,” she complimented.

Peedee grinned.

“Thank you Lapis, very cool,” he continued, “I-”

There was a loud boom somewhere down the street.

“What the heck was that?”

The four stood up, gazing down the street. A plume of smoke, lit by flames, blanketed the east-facing rows of pavement and houses - whatever had happened was only a little way past the Museum, and a few of the Home Guard were already running towards the scene. Stevonnie found themself already making a beeline for the scene, their protective instinct immediately activating. They hoped nobody was hurt.

“What happened?” they heard Jeff yell behind them, “Did anyone see it?”

A powder-green pearl, who was holding tightly to a middle-aged woman’s hand, turned around.

“Something fell out of the sky!” she replied, “I-I don’t think it hit anyone but… was it a comet?!”

“It had some kind of engine,” the woman said quietly, “Comets don’t have those.”

“Scavenger might’ve crashed,” mused Peedee, “Not good.”

They approached the crash site, the smoke still too heavy to see anything. Immediately, one of the Home Guards - a bluish-purple Amethyst - turned and held up her hand.

“Restricted area!” she called, “I…”

She stumbled over her words as she realised who she was talking to.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Fryman, Mr. Fryman,” she said, “I-I’ve been asked to keep people away from here in case…”

“It’s all good, Nines,” replied Jeff, “Do you know what it is?”

The Amethyst - Nines, apparently - shrugged.

“It’s a pod of some sort,” she replied, “Corporal Jenkins is taking a look now, but we don’t think it’s armed or anything. I…”

“Shit! Take co-”

There was a loud bang and a flash of red. A soldier flew out of the plume of smoke, slamming into a wall and bouncing painfully down to the floor. He landed with a crunch, and Stevonnie could just about see a small plume of smoke emitting from the back of his jacket.

“Corporal Jenkins!” exclaimed Nines.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Peedee.

“Rebel targets detected. Engaging at will.”

There was another flash of red and a scream. A helmet bounced out of the smoke and along the road, stopping as it hit Stevonnie’s boot. They looked down - a few fragments of shiny red rock could be seen in the metal shell.

“Was… was there a Ruby in there?” asked Jeff.

Nine swallowed and nodded.

Suddenly, a figure floated out of the darkness. It was a peculiar contraption - a completely round, white head on a body that vaguely resembled a chess piece. It had two arms, both of which ended in what looked like a limb enhancer with no fingers, and a skirt that was covered by a diamond pattern. In fact, there were diamond insignia all over the robot - whites and yellows and blues.

“Targets acquired. Exterminating rebel presence.”

It raised its limbs -- arms? -- and the extremities began to glow red. Stevonnie had just enough time to raise their shield before it fired, a crackling, scarlet beam ricocheting off their pink shield and off into the sky.

“Okay, get everyone out,” snapped Stevonnie, “I’ll handle this.”

Lapis stepped forward, putting a hand on their shoulder.

“We’ll handle this,” she corrected.

Jeff nodded.

“Alright! Everyone get inside, now! Move!”

Any of the remaining people or gems who did not have the forethought to leave already quickly did as they were bid, scurrying into the nearest shelter as the strange drone began to advance again, its smooth, mechanical voice blaring once more.

“Targets identified as Rose Quartz and Lapis Lazuli gems. Surrender immediately for painless termination.”

“Wow,” grunted Lapis, “You drive a hard bargain. How ‘bout instead I do this?”

She raised her arms, and one of the sewer manholes burst open. Water streamed into the air, forming a giant hammer above the strange drone. The drone, sensing the oncoming attack and, more importantly, its source, immediately shifted its arm to face Lapis, the beam charging again.

“Look out!”

Stevonnie side-stepped, bringing their shield up in front of Lapis and deflecting the blast before hurling it back towards the drone. It slammed into the arm and forced it upwards, sending a second blast firing harmlessly into the sky.

Before it could correct itself, the hammer came down with enormous force, knocking the drone onto it’s back. Sparks flew and it beeped, spluttering loudly, arms glowing and flickering as the water seeped into the machine’s electronics. Then, with a final pathetic sizzle, the backlit plane of gem tech went dark, head dropping backwards onto the ground.

Slowly, Stevonnie and Lapis approached their seemingly disabled opponent, the former with two shields out. They stood over the mech and smashed each shield into it, following a smooth downward arch; one could never be too careful.

“I think it was already broken,” said Lapis.

“Just making sure,” shrugged Stevonnie, “What the heck do you think this is?”

“Whatever it is,” replied Lapis, shaking her head, “It’s not good…”

“So it just landed and started blasting everything?” asked Amethyst.

Amethyst and Peridot had joined Stevonnie and Lapis by the ruined drone, which had now been cordoned off by the Home Guard. A few Guards stood over it, poking and prodding the machine in an attempt to work out what it was, while Lenny looked over the drone and took notes. Jeff was at the edge of the cordon, trying to explain the situation to curious passersby.

“Yeah,” nodded Stevonnie, “We think it’s from Homeworld…”

“Which means,” Amethyst’s voice darkened, “They know where we are. Jeff n’ Peeds letting people know that?”

“I dunno,” shrugged Lapis, “They didn’t tell us.”

“But if they know where we are,” asked Peridot, “Why not just destroy us?”

“I-I-I think it’s a Reconnaissance Robonoid of some… of some kind.”

Lenny had wandered over, Carl following close behind.

“I-i-it would make sense,” she continued, “They… they’d want to know what def… defences we have before… before they…”

“...before they destroy us,” finished Peridot, “Well, that’s a pleasant thought.”

“Tell you what, it’s definitely gonna drive down the price of Jeff’s penthouse,” chuckled Amethyst.

“It’s not a penthouse!” Jeff shouted.

“Yeah, sure, you keep telling yourself that, Jeff!” Amethyst called back.

“Hey, look!”

One of the Guards was prodding the helmet of the drone with his bayonet.

“I’ve found a hatch here, I think I can open it…”

“W-wait, no, don’t break it!” exclaimed Lenny, “I…”

Click.

The helmet began to open outwards, splitting into four quarters as each hatch raised up and away, revealing what lay underneath.

“There’s something in…” the Guard paled. “Oh my god!”

He stepped back and doubled over, dry-heaving. A strange and unpleasant smell filled the air, and slowly, the group approached the opened helmet.

“Oh no,” Stevonnie breathed.

“Aw, dude,” muttered Amethyst, shaking her head.

“Is that…” Carl began.

Lenny nodded grimly.

“I think… we’ve found the power source.”

Inside the helmet, there was a half-rotted, noseless, mummified human head, attached to the drone body by a series of thick tubes. The brain was exposed, large chunks crudely replaced with smooth, bright white metal. A single cybernetic eye, black with a white, diamond-shaped iris, stared up at them, almost as if it was gazing into their very souls.

“But… but Homeworld has computers to do this!” exclaimed Peridot, “Why would they do something so… inefficient?”

“I would’ve gone with ‘disgusting’ myself,” muttered Carl.

“I dunno,” replied Stevonnie, averting their eyes from the horrific scene, “But I don’t know if I want to find out…”

With the recent acceleration of Project Chrysalis, a conspicuous number of things had started going amiss in these mines. Deposits of minerals vanished, pieces of equipment broke, gems were found poofed in the dark tunnels. As a result, security was being tightened, but some of the peridots and quartzes feared that such safety measures still wouldn’t work. They believed some kind of monster lurked beneath this gem-forsaken planet.

And, in a way, they were quite right. Something did lurk in the mines. Something was sabotaging their work, doing everything she could think of to disrupt the progress of a project she honestly knew next to nothing about.

All she knew was that it was helping the Diamonds do something. That was enough reason enough for her to destroy it.

After all, there was nothing better than ruining an upper-crust’s day.

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower - Chapter 5

The Tower: An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter 5

Chapters: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen / twenty / twenty-one / twenty-two / twenty-three / twenty-four / twenty-five / twenty-six / twenty-seven / twenty-eight

Word Count: 2690

Warnings: Tony being Tony, some mild sexual language

Synopsis: Clint decides that it’s time for Elly to meet Tony.

Author’s Note: Co-written with @emilyevanston

Chapter 5 - Genius, Billionaire, Philanthropist

I got a call a few days after playing never have I ever with Clint telling me to come meet him at the Avengers tower.  I had to teach that morning, but I came out just after.  Clint was waiting in the lobby trying to look completely indiscreet, but failing miserably.  I skipped over to him and kissed his cheek.   “What’s up, bird friend?”  I asked.

Clint chuckled and shook his head.  “You’re a complete dork you know that?”  He said taking my elbow and leading me to the elevator.

“So I’ve been told,”  I answered.

We got into an elevator by ourselves.  Someone else tried to get in behind her but Clint gave her such a murder look she faltered and stepped back out again.

“It’s time for you to meet Tony.”  He said when the doors closed.

I stepped back from him and fidgeted on the spot.  “Okay,”  I said, nervously.

Clint took my hand and squeezed it.  “Remember, this isn’t a challenge.  You don’t have to force yourself into a relationship.  You shouldn’t do that.  All you need to do is be open to things if this is something you’re interested in.  Maybe for you and Tony, you’re just friends.  But if he doesn’t approve you, we can’t really move forward from here, because this is what Nat and I have.  You understand?”

I nodded.  “So what should I do?”

The elevator stopped and we both got out.  “Just be yourself.  Get to know him.  Don’t lie about yourself to get him to like you.  That’s just going to hurt people in the long run.”

I nodded still chewing my lip.  He pulled me close to him, wrapping me tightly in his arms.  “It’s weird, I get it.  But you’re doing fine.”  He kissed me, smashing our lips together.  When he pulled back he turned me to face the hallway ahead.  “He’s in his office for a change.  Right up there on the left.”  He said, pushing me forward and giving my ass a slap.  “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

I wandered down the hall keeping my eyes peeled for Tony.  Turned out, he spotted me first.

“You… what are you doing here?”  He said, clicking his fingers.

I stopped at the door and poked my head in.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.  Clint said…”

“Oh, one of Clint’s girls.  There should be protocol in place to deal with that.”  He said, shuffling some papers on the desk.

“You mean a ‘kick me out of the building’ protocol?”  I said, with a laugh.

Tony looked up at me and quirked his eyebrow.  “You said it.  Not me.”

“Well, while you are correct Clint and I are definitely doing the thing that would set that protocol into effect.  I only just got here.  He sent me down to find you.”  I explained.

Tony stopped what he was doing.  He tilted his head like he wasn’t sure what to make of me.  “Why would he do that?”

I shrugged.  “Thought we might hit it off I guess.”

Tony assessed me for a moment longer and went back to shuffling papers. “I don’t know why he would think that.  I’m highly abrasive.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”  I hummed.  “Besides, I’m possessing infinite patience, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughed and shook his head.  “You can cut the Mr. Stark stuff.  I’m Tony or Sir.”

I leaned against the door frame and ran my teeth over my bottom lip.  “I’m sorry… sir.”  I teased.

“Nope.  Changed my mind.  Not sir.  Just Tony.”  Tony said, quickly.

I broke down in laughter.  “Tony it is.”

“Am I funny?  I’m sure I could be more funny if I was trying to.”  Tony quipped looking back up at me.

“I honestly don’t think you could be.”  I teased.

He stood and moved around to the other side of his desk.  “Did I do something to you?  Maybe I slept with one of your friends?”

I pretended like I was thinking about it.  “No… I don’t think so.  But I guess it’s a small world so who knows?”

“Must be one of the lucky few then.”  Tony shot back.

I laughed and took a few steps inside.  “Self-deprecating?  I wouldn’t have pegged you for that.”

“You didn’t hear about me in my playboy years?  Anything that wasn’t nailed down, or so they say.”  Tony said, straightening up and taking a step towards me.

“I have heard about that, but I was under the impression it was models, mostly of the underwear catalogue kind.”  I mused.

Tony chuckled and shook his head.  “The underwear models were a bonus, but nothing was really off the table.  As long as they were good in bed.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you were slumming it with my kind too.”  I teased.  “But tell me, Tony.  How exactly did you know they were good in bed beforehand?”

He shook his head and tsked me, waggling his finger.  “Nope.  I’m not running a school for telling the good sexers here.  That’s a working title for a class I don’t teach.”

“Damn, think of all the duds you could have had me avoid.”  I laughed.

He took another step forward.  “You’ll just have to play the cards you get dealt I guess.”

“So what about me?  Anything you think I should work on?”  I asked him.

He looked me up and down, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.  “You really want to know?”

I nodded my head.  “Yeah, go on.”

“You seem very straight sub. I like someone with a little more fight than that.”  Tony said.

I chuckled and shook my head.  “That’s interesting because I would have pegged you as complete power dom.”

“Who said I’m not?”  Tony said quirking his eyebrow.  He took another step towards me and held out his hand.  “Tony Stark.”

“No, my name is Elly Cooper.  You’ve confused me with yourself.  Do you do that kind of thing often?”  I said, taking his hand and shaking it.

“I’m sure you think you’re hilarious, but I’ve got news for you,”  Tony said, laughing.  “You wanna grab some lunch?”

“Sure, I could eat.”  I agreed.

“FRIDAY have the Spyder brought out the front,”  Tony said, grabbing some things from his desk and putting them in his pocket.

“Right away, Sir.”  The buildings AI replied.

Tony took me to Per Se.  A Michelin Star restaurant on Columbus Circle at the edge of the park.

We walked in through the door and there was a sudden panic from the staff. A tall, thin woman in a red pencil cut dress and matching heels rushed over.  “Mr. Stark.  You don’t have a reservation.”  She said.

“That’s okay, I’ll just sit over there.”  He said, pointing to a table by the window clearly occupied by two people.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Stark.”  She said and waved her hands.  Other stuff rushed over moving the two now completely horrified looking diners.

I couldn’t believe what was happening.  This restaurant was the kind that allowed reservations months in advance and booked out right away and here we were just walking off the street and had people rushing around to make room for us.  Not to mention that Tony was in jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt and I was in a skirt with a galaxy printed on it and a Guns N Roses singlet.  We looked as out of place as two people could, yet everyone was scattering to make room for us.

“You know I would have been happy with a hot dog from that wagon outside the building right?”  I said, once we were seated and our drinks orders were placed.

“I'll remember that for next time,”  Tony said.

“There's going to be a next time?”  I asked quirking an eyebrow at him.  “Is that why you're trying to impress me by showing how powerful you are?”

“Is that what I'm doing?”  Tony asked.

“Oh, so you normally come to one of the most hard to get in places in the city with views of Central Park and just force them to seat you?”

Tony laughed.  “You're good.  How did Legolas meet you?”

“Through Natasha.  Nat and I have been dating about three months now.  That is if you count the time she's been away.”  I explained.

Tony sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes.  “I see what's happening here.  They're recruiting for the towers little den of iniquity and they need me to approve you.  Whatever.  Tell them it's fine.  I don't care.”

The wait staff arrived with our drinks, a Scotch for Tony and a strawberry vodka daisy for me.  “Oh don't be like that.  You were already planning a second date just a minute ago.  Why not actually give me a chance?”

Tony sat forward and scowled at me.  “Look what they have, it’s great they think I'm part of it.  But I was in an actual healthy monogamous relationship and it exploded in my face.  I don't have it in me again.”  He said before sitting back again.  “Besides, my therapist told me to take time.”

“Sucks when you love someone so much and that's not enough doesn't it?”  I said, taking a drink.

Tony looked at me suspiciously.  “Who was yours?”

“Ex-girlfriend.  Thought we'd get married.  Turns out, she cheated on me constantly.  Which is funny because if I even looked sideways at another person she'd get incredibly jealous.”  I explained.

“See at least that makes sense.  I just drove Pepper away with how I am.”  Tony said.  The hurt and confusion apparent.  Even after the months since the breakup.

I reached over the table and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.  “Yet, you have a whole group of people who count you as being their boyfriend.  You’re not unlovable, Tony Stark.”

“You don’t even know me.”  Tony scowled.

“No.  But I’d like to.”  I said with a small smile.

His hand closed around mine for a moment but the waiter arrived with the first course and he quickly let my hand go.  Oysters with pearls of tapioca and mini lobster rolls with caviar.

“Do you really like Guns and Roses or were you wearing that for my sake?”  Tony asked, picking up an oyster and swallowing it.

I laughed.  Quite loudly.  “Oh my god!”  I wheezed, holding my side.  “Yes, that’s why I put clothes on in the morning.  In the hope to impress Tony Stark if we happen to meet.”

Tony just gave me an incredulous look.

“No, Tony.  I honestly had no idea we’d meet today.  I got a text while I was at work from Clint telling me to come by.  I thought he was just wanting to hang out.”  I explained and took a bite of the lobster roll.

He seemed to relax again.  “So what is it that you do that you can just shirk off to hang out with Avengers when you feel like it?”

“Not exactly when I feel like it.  But I’m an Evolutionary Biologist.  I was teaching this morning.  I should probably be working now.  But I have a little freedom with my research.  As long as it gets done, it doesn’t matter when or how long I work on it.”  I say, downing an oyster.

“Ahh, science kids.  They were always the worst to work with at college.”  Tony said as the waiters came and cleared our plates replacing them with the second course of salad.

“I could say the same thing for engineering kids.”  I tease.

Tony pulled out his phone and started looking through it, completely ignoring me and picking at his salad.  After a little while, he looked up.  “Does Natasha know what exactly it is you study?”

I nod.  “Yes.  I have been completely honest with her.  Besides, she pursued me.  I didn’t go after her.”

He nodded and I lost him again for the following course of seared bass and mussels and half of the sautéed scallops.  “This work you're doing.  It’s impressive.”

I waved him off.   “It’s just the popular thing because of the sudden increase in supers.  It’s not like I have that much of a sample size to test anything properly.  Just a handful of scared people who suddenly can do things no one else can do.”

He shook his head.  “You should own it you know?  It’s ahead of the field.  Brucie Bear doesn’t even know this level of biology and he was testing it on himself.”

“Maybe if he had it wouldn’t have gone wrong.”  I joke.  “I did base a lot of my research on his though.  So if he just had been patient…”

We got lost in science talk.  I couldn’t always keep up with him.  There is a lot of misinformation about him out there, but the genius thing.  That is accurate.  I honestly wasn’t expecting to like Tony as much as I did.  But I really liked him.  He was snarky and hilarious and so, so smart.  I’d imagined that the most that was going to happen between us was we’d be alright friends, but the more we talked the more innuendo started to creep in.  And the more I hoped that it would actually lead somewhere.

The meal was huge.  After the scallops came brioche bread with bits of bacon baked into it.  Then came Peking duck.  Then wagyu beef with a chanterelle mushroom sauce.  Followed by cheese, followed by dessert.  We had been there for three hours by the time we had finished eating and I was more than a little bit tipsy from the cocktails I’d been drinking.

“I’m so full,”  I complained as I followed him back out to the car.

“We definitely should have stopped at the duck.”  Tony agreed, tipping the valet and climbing into the driver's seat.  I tried to jump in over the door, thinking it would be cool to do that just once.  I ended up getting my legs stuck and falling with my head in his lap.  “Hello there little Tony,”  I said as Tony broke down into laughter.

“Little Tony thinks that while you’re there you should get to know each other better.”  Tony teased.

I pushed myself up and somehow managed to get my legs into the car.  “Don’t issue me with challenges like that.  I’ll do it you know?”

Tony smirked at me.  “Maybe when you’re a little more sober.”

I buckled my seatbelt.  “Such a gentleman.”

Tony laughed and pulled the car into traffic.  “That's a new one.”

“You're not just saying that are you?  I really like you, Tony.  How dumb is that?”  I rambled.

Tony couldn't stop laughing.  “It's pretty dumb alright.”  He reached across and rubbed my thigh.  “I'm not just saying it.  I think Nat might be right.  There's something about you.  You're a complete nerd but it's like you have a little bit of each of us in you.”

“I'm gonna have a little bit of each of you in me.”  I joked.

Tony lost it again.  “Alright big talk.  One at a time.”

“It’s your turn now,”  I said.

He shook his head.  “I can't believe how drunk you are right now.  Totally lightweight.  Shall I take you home?”

I grinned at him.  “To your home.”

“Alright.  Definitely taking you home so you can sleep this off.”  He said, taking Central Park West up towards Columbia.

He double parked outside my building and walked me to the door.  “I had a really fun time, Tony,”  I said, walking my fingers up his chest.

He ran his palm over my jaw and I leaned into him.  He bridged the gap, his tongue running over the corner of my mouth before our lips met.  I kissed him hungrily and sloppily, tugging on his hair.  He pulled back with a hungry looking smile on his face.  “I did too.  Next time maybe little Tony can come out to play.”

“I sure hope so.”  I purred.

He slapped me on the ass and jumped back in his car.  “See you soon, nerd.  Get some rest.”  He said before pulling away.

[ishouldgetatumbler]

hey

what’s up

It’s killugon day

@murderxbaby

Minor God AU

There are the nameless, all powerful seven.

There are the twenty-four Major gods, masters of the human mind, the sun and moon and the weather.

And then there are the sixty-seven minor gods.

Gods of downtrodden or lesser domains, like broken glass, special functions or seaweed.

A long time ago, for most it would have been several lifetimes, Killua was the God of Beauty.

He earned his title with every smile, every wayward glance.

He would set any heart he could touch on fire, almost always without meaning to.

His charms did not stop at the lines of gender or class or race.

For some it was mere fascination, like being struck by the beauty of nature.

For others it was less… innocent.

Kings and queens and distant Czars would fall for his moonlit beauty, his tossed hair or fair skin in the morning sun.

They offered him gifts, courtship, and nights in their chambers.

But Killua was not the God of Love.

And he did not believe in love.

At least, not the love they did.

Killua was proud and beautiful and arrogant.

Before the fall.

A few times in history a God has fallen from the high pantheon.

Never had it been so literal.

He was pushed from the tallest mountain by his brother.

Or his mother.

Or his father.

Or perhaps all three.

Some say it was because of his arrogance.

The more romantic believe it was because someone had finally thawed his icy heart, and his family struck out in jealousy.

Pessimists believe it was his eldest brother, striking from the bitterness in his heart.

No matter the reason, no matter the perpetrator, it happened.

Killua fell.

And cracked upon the mountain’s base.

His skin, soft and warm, shattered like a vase dropped from the counter.

He bled and lay at the bottom of the mountain until the sun set and rose a thousand times.

Then he stood, picked the dirt from his splintering skin, and walked.

Given time and given space, he healed.

The chunk of skin and bone that splintered off of his knee grew back.

The cracks webbing out from where he’d hit the ground receded.

Even his arm, shattered all the way back to his elbow, healed.

In time.

For years, across the world, horror stories spread of the shattered god who wandered.

But slowly, over years, his wounds healed.

Save one.

His shoulder.

A chunk of flesh and bone, nearly the size of a fist, had turned to dust when Killua hit the ground.

It stayed bloodied and red, always aching, never healing.

So even as time rolled close to a century, when all of his zagging, jagged wounds were closed, his shoulder stayed the same.

Cracked and broken.

Gon is the God of Seaweed.

Not as auspicious a title as God of Beauty or War or Love.

But he’s happy with it.

From diving into dank caves to idly paddling along the islands, it’s fair to say he spends his days swimming one way or another.

His duties are few as god of Seaweed, but he finds himself more at home among the brine and fish than anywhere else.

The two gods met by chance.

Killua was staring out over the vast western ocean while Gon wandered along the coast.

Gon nearly stepped on him as they both watched ocean sway in the setting sun.

They traded hello’s.

They connected.

Immediately.

Wordlessly.

Gon helped Killua find his identity.

They sat on the beach and talked for days.

Killua complained about being the center of attention and Gon complained about being on the fringes.

They bickered about who had it worse.

Gon was winning.

“I suppose I’m one of you now,” said Killua, who wasn’t the god of much right now.

Gon stopped.

“I suppose so,” he said. “Being a minor god isn’t all bad,” he said after a moment.

They sat in a silence, gazing at stars and listening to the waves.

Then Gon leaped up.

He was smiling, frenzied and excited.

He shouted something about a gift before telling Killua to wait there.

He dived into the water.

Killua wasn’t there he came back.

They met again on the rocky northern beach.

It’d been years since they last met.

They awkwardly traded hellos.

They both prodded the air for their unseen connection.

Still there?

Gon said something a little stupid.

Killua could only smile fondly.

Still there.

They chat for a week or two.

It’s pleasant, murmuring nothing.

They enjoy talking.

It looks like old friends reconnecting to everyone else.

It doesn’t feel like it to them.

Everything lacks the bite of the moonlit night Killua walked away.

Then the week is up.

The full moon peeks its head out.

It finds Killua and Gon alone on the beach again.

They’re silent again.

Gon pulls something from his pocket.

“This was what I meant to give you,” he says.

He holds out his palm and resting on it is a small, soft-white pearl.

It’s dented and scarred, warped nearly out of shape.

Killua grabs it between two fingers.

“I still think it’s pretty,” Gon says. “Do you?” he asks, somewhat nervous.

Killua nods.

Then his throat forces a sob out of his mouth.

Killua is the God of Flawed Gems.

He is lord over chipped rubies and fractured amber.

Lord over cracked pearls and dented diamonds.

Lord over what was once flawless and beautiful.

Lord over what is now damaged and beautiful in a different way.

He wanders mostly, but sometimes he lingers on coasts.

He seems to have fondness for chipped pearls.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter eight

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,473

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

_____________

❝ i hate all the hurt that you put me through, and that i blame myself for letting you ❞

HENRY PEARL RAN HIS FINGERS OVER THE GOLD WIRED RING, a soft but victorious smile on his face. The small, handmade ring glimmered in the light he'd hung above his desk. The night before, he'd gone to the nearest voodoo shop to purchase the smallest garnet stone, ignoring the sunrise as he immediately ran back home and into his bed. Admittedly, he'd been afraid that the ring wouldn't turn out the way he wanted; but Aniya had always looked so heartbroken whenever she looked at her own, and there was a part of him that couldn't bear to see that look on her face as often as he did.

    There was a part of him that believed she would never love him -- not in the way that he wanted her to -- and he wouldn't blame her, either. She looked like she could conquer the world with a movement of her wrist. She would want more out of the world and he would never be able to give it to her. She was beautiful, and extraordinary, and he was just a boy.

    Still, he had to admit he's been happy lately, and he'd wallowed in it selfishly. Henry knew in his heart that it wouldn't last very long, but the was all the more reason to enjoy it in the moment. A few days ago, Aniya told him she found him intriguing, and he told her 'we are only interested by things we don't understand.'

    Henry Pearl's eyes were big enough to take it all in: the world, Aniya, and himself. He could float through the sky and never come back down. He wouldn't need to.

    He set the complex -- yet beautiful -- garnet ring down on his desk, next to a photograph of he and his mother on her birthday, when Henry was only eight or nine years old. Colla Pearl had been a beautiful woman, with emerald green eyes and medium brown hair; though she hadn't been a healthy one. It was when Henry was thirteen that she became sick, and it was at fifteen that she died. Neither Henry nor his father had dealt with it properly.

    Frowning, he glanced up at the calendar, and it occurred to him that Colla's birthday would be in a few days. A sick feeling over came Henry, and it struck him that it would be eight years since her death.

    The twenty-one year old boy was pulled out his thoughts when he heard rumbling and music playing from the living room. Henry listened for a moment, hoping -- praying -- the music wasn't what he thought it was. When he heard a crash, he shut off his lamp and quickly made his way out of his closet-sized bedroom and down the hall. He was met with a low ringing noise to his left, where his father left the home phone hanging off the desk.

    He hesitated, but picked it up to his ear. A low buzz emitted from the phone, signalling that whoever his father had tried to call had hung up, and he carefully set it back down on the charger. As he proceeded down the hall, he looked to his left and noticed the empty bedroom that belonged to his father. The bedsheets had been jumbled together, and he'd left his night lamp on, as if he'd tried to get some rest but changed his mind all together. Underneath the bed was an empty six-pack of Coors Lite, and Henry grimaced at the sight.

    "Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år!" The Swedish song played throughout the home through a single DVD player. The birthday song mocked the atmosphere, and dread filled Henry's stomach as he realized why his father, William Pearl, had chosen to stay up so late: he'd believed it was Henry's mother's birthday.

    Sorrow crawled its way to Henry's throat, wrapping itself around his neck and squeezing as he reached to turn off the music. Henry's vision went glassy as silence filled the apartment once again, and he heard his father cursing him in the kitchen.

    "What the fuck? We're having a party, Henry!" William complained, rushing over to the player and restarting the track. "We're gonna have one hell of a party!"

    Henry's gaze flitted across the room as he struggled to keep eye contact with William. The fifty-year-old man was nearly nude, wearing only a pair of boxers as he opened a box of party supplies Henry had tried to hide in the attic. William dumped the box upside down on the wooden floors, and Christmas ornaments and streamers were sent flying across the living room.

    "Papa," Henry began. His throat went dry as an old ornament flew across the floor: a photo of he and his parents that they'd taken at the mall. "Papa, please stop."

    "Let's make it look nice, here at home," William declared, messily organizing the supplies into different piles. He made his way to the small kitchen table and Henry's new shipment of silverware onto the table. "Here, you set the table--"

    "Papa--" He tried again, taking a small step toward his father as he climbed onto the couch in an effort to hang a 'happy birthday' sign from the windows. For a moment, he wondered where William had gotten the money to purchase it; then it occurred to him that he left twenty dollars on the kitchen table every night in case of an emergency. Henry's throat tightened as he realized that his father had been impulsively spending the money on alcohol and useless decorations. It wasn't as though either of them celebrated holidays.

    "Here is her party, why aren't you happy? Don't you miss her?" William's tone changed as he looked back at Henry, his eyes reddened and crazed as he screamed, "Be happy, for fuck's sake!"

    When Henry's expression didn't shift, William reached for one of the plates Henry had bought and tossed it in his direction, screaming "here is her fucking party!"

    Henry felt pressure against his shoulder as the plate slammed against the right side of his body and fell to the hard ground. He watched as it shattered, and cringed, his expression shifting to one of helplessness. "Papa, please stop."

    "What?" William turned back to his son, a bright smile on his face as he walked forward, grabbing Henry's head with his hands and holding it against his own. His breath wreaked of alcohol and whatever he'd eaten in the past few weeks.

    Henry wrapped his arm around his father's shoulder and tried to lead him back down the hall. "Please, Papa, just go to bed. Come here."

    "I can't go to bed now!" He exclaimed, casually fighting off his son's grip and placing his dirtied hand on his already bruised cheek.

    The boy flinched away from his father's touch. "Let's go to bed, Papa, come on..."

    "But I'm arranging a dinner party for your mother," William argued, a dazed smile on his face. Henry would have sworn he was having a psychological break, but he supposed grief did that to people. William had lost his wife; it was only fitting that he acted this way. Still, the longer he acted like this, the easier it would be for William to hurt himself.

    Henry tried again, carefully reaching for his arms as he tried to walk him back to his room. He comforted, "You can do that tomorrow, c-can you come to bed now?"

   "No, I'm very busy making a birthday dinner for your mom, so the fucking cunt can finally be happy!"

    "Papa, calm down, let's go to bed--" The boy bargained, ignoring the icy feeling that grew in his chest. His father would always say cruel things during his episodes, especially about Henry's mother; but they still stung every time he said them.

    William shrugged off his son's grasp, walking into the small kitchen where a pot of potatoes and -- was that dirt? -- boiled over the stove. Henry reached for the pot while his father was distracted with pouring a bag full of potatoes into another pot. He held it over the sink and filled it with water in an attempt to wash out what mess William had made while Henry was busy.

    "What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!" His father cursed, snatching the pot from Henry's grasp and putting it back on the stove. Smoke rose from the burning potatoes, and the young boy did his best to wave them away from the detector and sprinklers. As his father threw random spices onto the food, he exclaimed, "I told you, we're having a party! Look, we're gonna eat potatoes and shit."

    The older man brushed long, gray locks from his face and reached to turn on everything on the stove, despite using only two pots filled to the brim with potatoes. William turned the nozzle and the oven lit up, as Henry took another step forward. "No. No, Papa, go to bed--"

    "Don't ruin the food, now!" William sneered. Henry gulped and reached to turn the stove off, but his hands were immediately grabbed by William. His father glared at him for a moment, raising his hand. A stinging sensation covered Henry's left cheek.

    "Please, Papa--"

    Slap.

   "C-Can't you j-j-just--"

    Slap.

    A sharp pain quickly formed below Henry's eye socket, a jarring feeling in his skull as William's fist connected with his son's cheek. A bruise began forming on Henry's face as he met eyes with his father again, a tired but pleading look in his eyes.

    "Why c-c-can't -- why c-can't you go t-to bed now, Papa? Please..." Tears fell from Henry's eyes, his hair disheveled and shoulders hunched forward as he looked into the eyes of his estranged father. He was met with a cold glare and reddened eyes. Henry swallowed, preparing for another hit, the left side of his face reddened and covered with tears.

    William nodded after a moment, his jaw clenched as he stared up at his son. "I was just trying to make some food and make things right." He cleared his throat and looked around the kitchen before taking a step toward Henry. "Move the fuck out of my way."

    Henry stepped to the side as William made his way back to his bedroom. He let out a low breath and walked toward the stove, turning off all of the nozzles and the oven, and tossing the pot of potatoes and gunk into the garbage. He thought for a moment, then unplugged the microwave and toaster as well. As Henry went to clean up the mess in the living room, he allowed himself to accept his reality.

    He would never be able to live in his apartment in the Quarter. It would be his -- overpriced -- art studio, and nothing more.

    A tear slipped from his eye as he made his way into the attic, where he had organized Colla's items into different boxes. Henry moved to look through her 'treasured items,' the ones that she'd kept close to her heart when she was alive. Dainty pieces of jewelry tangled together at the bottom of the box, next to an old journal. Henry's brows knitted together in curiosity as he reached for the small brown book.

    The pages were stained brown, implying that Colla had gone out of her way to dip them into tea. A chuckle left Henry's lips as he began to read her Swedish writings. After a few moments, he realized the book hadn't been her private journal, but a notebook, where she'd studied different and rare types of witchcraft.

    'Tyaag witches participate in several different rituals in order to achieve functional mortality. However, functional mortality is only offered to twins born with earth magic. Once achieved, the twins will be sacrificed on their eighteenth birthday. This will usually consist of a slit throat and a knife through the base of the skull, paralyzing and killing them.

    'The base of the skull is the fifth chakra, and the mouth of God. Three days after their death, the witch twins are resurrected. Unfortunately, the memory of their friends and loved ones is wiped completely of their existence. This is due to the fact that the witches are promised a new life; and therefore, their slate is wiped clean.

    'Tyaag rituals are notorious for failed resurrections, as if the children do not comply with the fifteen rituals they need to complete before their deaths, the sacrifice will fail, and they will remain in spiritual limbo for the rest of eternity.'

    Henry shut the book immediately, remembering the wound on Aniya's neck. He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if his memory were an etch-a-sketch. He glanced outside and noticed the faded sunlight, and realized he would be late for his double-shift at the diner if he didn't leave soon.

    He quickly reached for the wired ring and put it into a small white box, complete with a little ribbon. A smile made its way across his face as he quickly changed into his work uniform, all but giddy to see Aniya again.

    As he made his way out of the cramped apartment in downtown New Orleans, he caught a glimpse of his father drooling into his white satin pillows. Henry paused, then went into his room, pulling the duvet over the man's chubby body and tucking it over him. He quickly picked up the pack of alcohol on the floor and shut off the light in his bedroom with a final breath of relief. He grabbed his things and locked the door behind him, making his way to his old Jeep.

    Henry drove in peaceful silence, admiring the lights and music of the city before stopping at the dumpster behind the diner.

    It was there that he tossed his father's pack of alcohol and his mother's box of party supplies. It wasn't as if either of the items would ever do him good. He was exhausted, and no longer sure he would live to his twenty-eighth birthday.

    Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

________

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i knew that henry needed to have his own chapter eventually, as he is just as complex as aniya and kol, with his own goals and ambitions outside of being the person who works in the restaurant. that being said, henry is based off martin from the swedish movie 'behind the lights' and henry pearl from 'battlecreek.' please comment and tell me what you think! - trust

[dfroza]

As the Judgment upon the world draws to a conclusion

John writes of a terrible scene he witnessed of the future cleansing with Today’s reading from the book of Revelation:

Next I saw another messenger descending from heaven. I knew he possessed great authority because his glory illuminated the earth.

Heavenly Messenger (with a powerful voice): Fallen, fallen, is Babylon the great city!

It has become a habitat for demons,

A haunt for every kind of foul spirit,

a prison for every sort of unclean and hateful bird.

For all the nations have drunk deeply

from the wine of the wrath of her immorality,

And the kings of the earth have disgraced themselves by engaging in gross sexual acts with her,

and the merchants of the earth have grown fat and rich, profiting off the power purchased with her luxury.

Then I heard another voice from heaven urge,

A Voice: My people, get away from her—fast.

Make sure you do not get caught up in her sins.

Put some distance between you so that you do not share in her plagues,

For her sins are higher than the highest mountain. They reach far into the heavens,

and God has not forgotten even one of her missteps.

Deal out to her what she has dealt out to others,

and repay her double according to her deeds.

In the cup where she mixed her drink, mix her a double.

Whatever glory she demanded and whatever luxury she lived,

give back to her the same measure in torment and sorrow.

Secretly she says in her heart:

“I rule as queen;

I am not like a widow;

I will never experience grief.”

Because of this arrogance, in a single day, plagues will overwhelm her.

Her portion will be death and sorrow and famine,

And she will be incinerated with fire,

for mighty is the Lord God who exacts judgment on her.

And the kings of the earth, who committed lewd, sexual acts and lived lavishly off of her, will weep and wail over their loss when they see the smoke from her burning body rise into the sky. They will stand at a distance, fearing they, too, might fall victim to her torment. They will moan,

Woe to you, our great city!

Babylon, the most powerful city in the world.

In a single hour, your day of judgment has come.

And the merchants and the magnates of the earth weep and mourn over her demise because no one is buying their goods any longer: warehouses remain full of gold, silver, jewels, and pearls; fine fabrics, purple, silk, and scarlet cloth; fragrant woods, items made of ivory, and items finely crafted out of expensive wood; bronze, iron, and marble; cinnamon, spices, incense, myrrh, and frankincense; wine, olive oil, rich flour, and wheat; cattle, sheep, horses, chariots, and human cargo (the trafficked souls of humanity).

Everything your heart desired

has gone away;

All the glitz and glitter

are lost to you forever;

you’ll never have them again!

The sellers of these goods, who made a fine profit from her, will stand at a distance. Like the kings, they will fear her punishment might fall on them too. They will weep and mourn their loss.

Woe to you, our great city,

dressed in finest linens, in purple and scarlet fabrics,

dazzling in gold and jewels and pearls.

In a single hour, all this wealth is gone.

And all the sea captains, all those who sail the seas, sailors, and those who make a living by the sea, stood at a distance. Strong men were reduced to tears as they gazed on the smoke that rose from her ruins. “Was there ever any city like her?” they asked. They threw dust in the air covering their heads. They wept bitterly and mourned their loss.

Woe to you, our great city;

all who had ships at sea

became rich off your wealth!

In a single hour, you have been utterly ruined.

Rejoice over her torment, O heaven. Join in the celebration, you saints, emissaries, and prophets because God has judged in your favor and against her.

Then a mighty messenger picked up a huge stone—it looked like a great millstone—and he cast it into the sea.

Mighty Messenger: Watch and see. This is how Babylon, the great city,

will be thrown down; violently will she go down,

and they will search for her in vain.

Never again will the sound of music grace your streets.

The melodies and harmonies of the harpists and musicians and flutists and trumpeters

will never be heard again.

And never again will an artisan of any craft

be found in your markets,

And never again will the grinding of the millstone

provide rhythm to your city,

And never again will the light of a lamp

bring warm light to your houses,

And never again will the voices of the bridegroom and bride

bring joy to your festivities.

For the merchants were the magnates of the earth,

and all the nations fell prey to your sorceries.

And in her streets the blood of the prophets, saints,

and all who have been slaughtered upon the earth, ran freely.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 18 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 29th chapter of 2nd Chronicles that documents the cleansing and reopening of the Temple by King Hezekiah:

[King Hezekiah]

Hezekiah became king when he was twenty-five years old and was king in Jerusalem for twenty-nine years. His mother was Abijah daughter of Zechariah. In God’s opinion he was a good king; he kept to the standards of his ancestor David.

In the first month of the first year of his reign, Hezekiah, having first repaired the doors of The Temple of God, threw them open to the public. He assembled the priests and Levites in the court on the east side and said, “Levites, listen! Consecrate yourselves and consecrate The Temple of God—give this much-defiled place a good housecleaning. Our ancestors went wrong and lived badly before God—they discarded him, turned away from this house where we meet with God, and walked off. They boarded up the doors, turned out the lights, and canceled all the acts of worship of the God of Israel in the holy Temple. And because of that, God’s anger flared up and he turned those people into a public exhibit of disaster, a moral history lesson—look and read! This is why our ancestors were killed, and this is why our wives and sons and daughters were taken prisoner and made slaves.

“I have decided to make a covenant with the God of Israel and turn history around so that God will no longer be angry with us. Children, don’t drag your feet in this! God has chosen you to take your place before him to serve in conducting and leading worship—this is your life work; make sure you do it and do it well.”

The Levites stood at attention: Mahath son of Amasai and Joel son of Azariah from the Kohathites; Kish son of Abdi and Azariah son of Jehallelel from the Merarites; Joah son of Zimmah and Eden son of Joah from the Gershonites; Shimri and Jeiel sons of Elizaphan; Zechariah and Mattaniah sons of Asaph; Jehiel and Shimei of the family of Heman; Shemaiah and Uzziel of the family of Jeduthun. They presented themselves and their brothers, consecrated themselves, and set to work cleaning up The Temple of God as the king had directed—as God directed! The priests started from the inside and worked out; they emptied the place of the accumulation of defiling junk—pagan rubbish that had no business in that holy place—and the Levites hauled it off to the Kidron Valley. They began the Temple cleaning on the first day of the first month and by the eighth day they had worked their way out to the porch—eight days it took them to clean and consecrate The Temple itself, and in eight more days they had finished with the entire Temple complex.

Then they reported to Hezekiah the king, “We have cleaned up the entire Temple of God, including the Altar of Whole-Burnt-Offering and the Table of the Bread of the Presence with their furnishings. We have also cleaned up and consecrated all the vessels which King Ahaz had gotten rid of during his misrule. Take a look; we have repaired them. They’re all there in front of the Altar of God.”

Then Hezekiah the king went to work: He got all the leaders of the city together and marched to The Temple of God. They brought with them seven bulls, seven rams, seven lambs, and seven he-goats to sacrifice as an Absolution-Offering for the royal family, for the Sanctuary, and for Judah as a whole; he directed the Aaronite priests to sacrifice them on the Altar of God. The priests butchered the bulls and then took the blood and sprinkled it on the Altar, and then the same with the rams and lambs. Finally they brought the goats up; the king and congregation laid their hands upon them. The priests butchered them and made an Absolution-Offering with their blood at the Altar to atone for the sin of all Israel—the king had ordered that the Whole-Burnt-Offering and the Absolution-Offering be for all Israel.

The king ordered the Levites to take their places in The Temple of God with their musical instruments—cymbals, harps, zithers—following the original instructions of David, Gad the king’s seer, and Nathan the prophet; this was God’s command conveyed by his prophets. The Levites formed the orchestra of David, while the priests took up the trumpets.

Then Hezekiah gave the signal to begin: The Whole-Burnt-Offering was offered on the Altar; at the same time the sacred choir began singing, backed up by the trumpets and the David orchestra while the entire congregation worshiped. The singers sang and the trumpeters played all during the sacrifice of the Whole-Burnt-Offering. When the offering of the sacrifice was completed, the king and everyone there knelt to the ground and worshiped. Then Hezekiah the king and the leaders told the Levites to finish things off with anthems of praise to God using lyrics by David and Asaph the seer. They sang their praises with joy and reverence, kneeling in worship.

Hezekiah then made this response: “The dedication is complete—you’re consecrated to God. Now you’re ready: Come forward and bring your sacrifices and Thank-Offerings to The Temple of God.”

And come they did. Everyone in the congregation brought sacrifices and Thank-Offerings and some, overflowing with generosity, even brought Whole-Burnt-Offerings, a generosity expressed in seventy bulls, a hundred rams, and two hundred lambs—all for Whole-Burnt-Offerings for God! The total number of animals consecrated for sacrifice that day amounted to six hundred bulls and three thousand sheep. They ran out of priests qualified to slaughter all the Whole-Burnt-Offerings so their brother Levites stepped in and helped out while other priests consecrated themselves for the work. It turned out that the Levites had been more responsible in making sure they were properly consecrated than the priests had been. Besides the overflow of Whole-Burnt-Offerings there were also choice pieces for the Peace-Offerings and lavish libations that went with the Whole-Burnt-Offerings. The worship in The Temple of God was on a firm footing again!

Hezekiah and the congregation celebrated: God had established a firm foundation for the lives of the people—and so quickly!

* * *

The Book of 2nd Chronicles, Chapter 29 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, february 26 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A set of posts by John Parsons about Purim:

The sages extol the importance of the holiday of Purim because it reveals the hidden hand of God, despite his apparent absence in the affairs of this world... On the surface, each turn of the story could be explained naturally, or as simple “coincidence,” yet in the end we realize that God was at work behind the scenes, carefully putting together deliverance for God’s people. The eye of faith trusts in God’s providential plan, despite appearances to the contrary. Indeed, the phrase hester panim (הֶסְתֵר פָּנִים) means "hiding of the face" and is often used when discussing the Book of Esther. Understood as hidden providence, hester panim is somewhat like the sun on an overcast day: Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it isn't there. God's great love is at work at all times, in all affairs of the universe, whether we perceive it or not. And that includes our world and all of its troubles: God is in control and His hidden hand holds all things together for the sake of his own counsels and purposes... [Hebrew for Christians]

2.24.21 • Facebook

The Book of Esther centers on God’s faithfulness and care of the Jewish people, and by extension, for all those (among the nations) who become partakers of Israel’s blessings through Yeshua the Messiah. The “scandal” of the story turns on the “scandal of election,” or the idea that God personally chooses some people -- for reasons that are entirely His alone -- to be the recipients of His covenantal love. The Jews are called the “chosen people” (עם הנבחר) just as Christians are said to be “chosen [εκλεγομαι] in Yeshua before the foundation of the world” (Eph. 1:4). In both cases we note God’s sovereign prerogative to choose those who are in relationship with Him. Yeshua told his followers: “No one can come to me (δυναται ελθειν προς με) unless the Father who sent me drags [ἑλκύσῃ] him” (John 6:44, 6:65), and He also said “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you” (John 15:16). God is the Initiator of the relationship; He is the Master of the Universe and “the God of the spirits of all flesh” (Num. 16:22). If there is revelation from heaven, it is Heaven’s prerogative to bestow it on Heaven’s own terms...

Regarding this divine prerogative, Paul reminded us of God’s words to Moses: "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy" (Rom. 9:15). He then followed this up with the statement: “So then it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God, who shows mercy” (Rom. 9:15-16). If this sounds “offensive” or “unfair,” it may be that we are secretly appealing to our own supposed merit in order to find acceptance before God. The “scandal” of the gospel is that God loves whom He loves for reasons that are His alone, and this is likewise the scandal of God’s sovereign choice of ethnic Israel. In either case, God is preeminent, and God is perfectly righteous in all he does. [Hebrew for Christians]

2.24.21 • Facebook

an email message by Glenn Jackson:

February 26th

* WE ARE THE RIGHTEOUSNESS OF GOD, IN CHRIST

[ part 1 of 3]

Righteousness is the key word in Paul's epistles. It means the ability to stand in the Father's presence without the sense of fear, condemnation, or inferiority. The greatest blessing of the New Creation is to be established in righteousness, to acquire a "righteousness-consciousness". Man is born into a "sin-consciousness". We have had a "weakness-consciousness" that has kept us slaves of fear. But what a sense of victory, of freedom would be ours if we knew that we were the righteousness of God and were established in that fact. Sin-consciousness has made slaves of the human race. It has destroyed the initiative in multitudes. It has been the oldest and most persistent enemy of faith. You cannot have faith in the Word when you are under condemnation! Righteousness means the ability to stand in the presence of God. What would sonship be worth if we did not have righteousness? The Father would have no pleasure in His children because they would be shrinking, cowardly, fearful beings. The children would never enjoy the Father's presence. No redemption would be worth the name that did not include righteousness. No New Creation and sonship would be worth the title, if righteousness did not become part of it. So the object of the Redemption that God wrought in His Son was to make man righteous before Him. That was the ultimate objective of the Father. He dared to make His Son a Substitute for the human race.

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

February 26, 2021

The Wicked Man

“The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all his thoughts.” (Psalm 10:4)

It is significant that the word “wicked” does not necessarily mean morally depraved or violently dangerous. It is essentially synonymous with “ungodly,” and the Hebrew word used here (rasha) is often so translated. This tenth psalm provides a graphic summary of their real character. They are:

Proud. “The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God” (v. 4).

Fawning. “For the wicked...blesseth the covetous, whom the LORD abhorreth” (v. 3).

Atheistic, at least in behavior. “He hath said in his heart, God hath forgotten:...he will never see it” (v. 11).

Stubborn. “He hath said in his heart, I shall not be moved: for I shall never be in adversity” (v. 6).

Profane. “His mouth is full of cursing....under his tongue is mischief and vanity” (v. 7).

Hurtful. “In the secret places doth he murder the innocent” (v. 8). This surely applies to character assassination, when not to actual killing.

Deceptive. “His mouth is full of...deceit and fraud:...He lieth in wait secretly as a lion in his den” (vv. 7, 9).

It is significant that the apostle Paul cited verse 7 (“full of cursing”) as descriptive of most of the ancient pagans in his day, and it can sadly be applied to many modern pagans as well.

But David said: “I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not” (Psalm 37:35-36). “For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish” (Psalm 1:6). HMM