#thank you so much i really am......deceased....perished.....

[rozetheeuwu]

Been a while since I last heard about your OCs (or, actually most if not all of the Tumblr rebornverse OCs), so tell me anything you've been cooking up for them recently!

YEAAAAAH THANK YOU!!

Okay so like I said before I am making toyhouse pages for all of (rebornverse) ocs and Miles & Mavis are currently done! I just need to make some more new art for them! Speaking of art everyone is getting some new character art/refs!

Everyone is getting a bit of a re-haul! Either design or lore wise, some are major some are minor. Planning on making 10 year in the future refs/art for all my reborn ocs, so look out for that!

For the the ones I'm really working on are Chad and Dearil! I'm also making a new Rejuv oc namd Felix and a new Reborn oc named Lukey Arengee! (some v13.5 spoilers!)

Okay so quick reminder:

Mention of child abuse, death

Chad and Dearil lived in Almia with a woman named Aasha, who was cruel and manipulative, after their parents died. They are not blood related, they didn't even meet until Aasha brought them in.

Aasha mainly cares for money and power, but hides in the shadow for the most parts. She is a thief (and implied murdered).

A while after Dearil turns 18 Chad leaves to Reborn to start a new life, but promises to come back for them and take them with him. Dearil visits Reborn after Chad defeats Lin (Main Game). When they found out Chad 'disappeared' they assumed their brother abandoned them and left back home. Aasha lashed out at them and attacked them. Unfortunately she killed them on accident, although she wasn't too sad about that.

When Chad came back he was heartbroken to find out Dearil 'died' and defeated Aasha in a battle who 'disappeared' right after.

Chad then lived out his life in Reborn.

After Dearil died Variya pulled them back and asked them to become the interceptor. Dearil agreed. His soul was filled with hatred and the need to get revenge, however they didn't know why as their memories where erased for the most part. (some of their memories come back, all of them at their final battle against their brother)

Dearil tried to defeat team Xen and went along with the others in hopes that the feelings they were feeling would be quenched, but soon found out it didn't help. He didn't really care about helping any of the people who saw them as their friend and Clear and Kieran took that opportunity to ask them to join them.

They told them that if he helped them bring the world to oblivion the person that he hated so much would perish too, they agreed.

At some point Dearil is facing off against Chad, who was tipped off that his brother was alive and figured out what they were up too.

Chad defeated them and mortally wounded them and all the hatred Dearil felt went away. Chad said he would reset time using Dialga and fix all this, Dearil entered the Zeight (remotely) and tried to fix some things there so Chad wouldn't remember and Dearil would be able to fix their own mess as they started to feel regret.

Karma intervened and they struck a deal, no one (but Karma) retained their memories although they were saved in the zeight. Dearil then goes through the paragon run.

Chad stuff:

-He plays instruments, preferably windinstruments (harmonica and flute), but he also plays acoustic guitar and bass.

-He was very sheltered from the world by Aasha, although he knew he was trans he didn't know there was hormone treatment or surgeries he could take. Aasha did steal some T-shots from hospitals to give it to Chad, but he was under the impression she made it for him.

He also does not have had any surgeries, after learning that stuff like top surgery and bottom surgery exist he still decides not to take any as he is comfortable enough with his body as is.

-During the events of rejuv he has two babies (twins.) One named Riley, nickname Riri (Nickname is similar to Kiki) and one named Dearil II (named after his 'deceased' sibling.)

-He still specializes in ghost/dragon type, but half his team is sand based to mirror Solaris.

Dearil stuff:

-Before the interceptor stuff he used to try out different instruments to try and play music with their brother, although they gave up quickly on most of it. He did sing though which was one of the few things they enjoyed doing. He picks this back up late act 2 (karma files).

-Renegade Dearil does like and care for Mosely and Amber... To an extant. They're nice to those two, but if they get in their way... Well...

-Paragon Dearil's memories of his renegade path are hidden away, but still very much present. During act one most of it is them seeming to get a feeling of 'deja vu' which are actually just memories. During the quest where you meet Talon, Florin and Flora he gets 'weird visions and nightmares' (memories) of rift Talon and Florin how he acted during renegade if you choose the road to kill him.

During act two their memories seem to leak into reality. During act one renegade Dearil and Paragon Dearil make most of the same major choices (defeat madame X, don't give Cera the Magma Stone and save Amber), until act 2 starts and paragon Dearil after voices in their head tries to steer him from the path of oblivion (his past renegade self and the things Chad said during their last meeting in renegade)

His renegade self coming forth and taking over his current personality (this never last long). Others also get some weird feelings of deja vu and an uneasy feeling around Dearil during certain parts.

During the parts in Darclight time starts to distort around Dearil (and Florin and Erin who are with him at the time). An anomaly (renegade Dearil) appears after memories with Chad were once again unlocked. P!Dearil is unconscious during this and Florin and Erin are forced to fight the anomaly (Dearil's pokemon helping out trying to protect their trainer).

Stuff like this happens a few times.

Eventually when Adrest unlocks their intereptor form the memories get released as well, but they take form as r!Dearil. The two fight and Adrest gives the option to lock the memories away again.

Both Dearils and Aero talk for a bit and decide that they shouldn't hide from the past. Adrest and Nancy warn that everyone will remember what they did.

They won't remember everything at once, and not everyone will remember things as fast as the others, but they'll remember.

They go for it anyway and the paragon Karma Files play out as normal for the most part there.

Well there is a scene after they return from the zeight and they and Melia go through the ruined timeline stuff as, well, the others remembered. They all decide to trust Dearil in the end.

-R!Dearil specializes in Dark/Ghost, to represent evil and death.

P!Dearil specializes in Normal/Ghost, Normal to contrast with the fact nothing in any of their lives was normal to begin with.

Complete!Dearil specializes in Normal/Fire, Normal because they just want to put their past behind them and be a regular person. Fire as their life has started a new, a new flame if you will.

-All of P!Dearil's old ghosts were gifted to some of his friends.

Felix!!!

Felix's host is Ariana. He does not specialize in a type, but his pokemon are friendship themed! He uses pokemon that evolve via friendship and uses pokemon that are the aces of his loved ones. His starter is Torchic to represent his host!

You can figure out Lukey's case.

Sorry for the entire long ramble these were supposed to be fun facts, oops.

[sigyns-drafts]

um hii on your main i saw you're into mythical detective loki ? so i was wondering if i could request a little fic on freyr's feelings after founding out abt heimdalls death ! love your work :)

A/N: Hello, yes I am very much into mythical detective Loki! I don't usually write for it but I'll make an exception for you since the fandom deserves more attention! <3

Freyr's grief 💔

➩ After Heimdall's untimely demise when he had fought Loki, driven by anger towards him for his missing eye. When it had been in fact Odin who had stolen it. Loki was forced to bring back depressing news, especially to Freyr. The aftermath wasn't easy and the god now found himself seeking shelter at the detective agency.

➩ Reader type: none!

⚠: Includes spoilers for Mayura’s backstory and the plot of the Anime/Manga! Mourning a characters recent death, mention of a deceased mother, grieving friends.

In the dimly lit room of the detective agency, Freyr sat with a heavy heart, mourning the loss of his dear friend Heimdall.

It was a rainy day, so all their friends were staying inside to mourn together. It was a bittersweet moment for it to rain on such an occasion as this.

Freyr's dark blue eyes, usually gleaming with pride and determination to impress Mayura and protect his sister Freya, now reflected sorrow and emptiness.

Loki understood how Freyr must have felt after losing a fellow god, someone they both knew, despite his and Heimdall’s own complicated history.

Loki approached Freyr, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder causing the god to twitch and look up at Loki.

"Freyr, I know this loss weighs heavily on you, Heimdall was a good guy, a loyal friend. You're welcome to stay for as long as you need to recover from this.."

Freyr sighed deeply, his voice choked with emotion, he looked away from Loki's gaze. Seemingly embarrassed to be seen like this grieving state.

"Thank you Loki, I just can't bear the thought of him being gone. But how could he even have perished like that..?"

“All thanks to Odin's schemes..”

Suddenly Yamino and Mayura entered the room, the man holding a tray with tea and some treats.

He had gotten help from Mayura to open the door carefully so they wouldn't disturb the peace.

The two walked up to them, both hovering over the two as Yamino spoke softly, putting the tray down on the coffee table and feeling the need to share some comforting words.

"Loss is never easy my friend, I've brought you some tea and treats to eat when you feel like it.”

“Thank you Yamino..”

“And I brought a blanket, so that you can warm up and feel a little more comfortable. It's raining so much today!”

Said Mayura as she looks at Freyr's depressed state, frowning and feeling bad for him.

She puts the blanket around him while the god sniffs, trying to wipe his growing tears away.

Mayura knew what it was like losing someone, after all she had lost her mother at a very young age!

She looks at Loki and Yamino, as if she was asking for permission to speak.

The two men just nodded, like they had read her mind and the woman would take a deep breath to prepare herself.

“Hey, I can understand what you're going through..”

Freyr slowly looks up, confused about what Mayura was about to tell him, slightly worried on how she could understand such pain and grief.

“I personally always try my best to remember the memories me and my mother shared whenever I miss her. After all, they will always live on in your heart."

That was the last straw for Freyr. Seeing the girl he wanted to impress, to charm so much, be here for him and say such words, tell him how much she could relate to his situation.

It broke him! With tears glistening in his eyes, Freyr nodded gratefully and whimpered to himself.

“My beautiful Japanese flower, I didn't know you knew what it was like. Thank you, all of you!”

Freyr expressed with gratitude as he suddenly latched himself onto Mayura's waist, but she really didn't seem to mind.

Patting his back to comfort him as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“There there mystery thief, you're going to be alright~”

[steakbatter]

submitted by @fishyartist​

OHHH YOU JUST KO’D ME

[obliviscii-a]

Yveltal couldn’t ever remember it being this bad. Or perhaps it always was, and he was blind to it until humanity sprouted across the land. The first contact he’d had with a human had reduced them to nothing, the child only watching on in horror as they withered away. The confused, yet horrified look, would forever be burned into his memory.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t his fault. That something else, perhaps, caused such an unfortunate demise. However, when it came time to escort the soul, they would ask him how they died. He had no response. For deep down, he knew it was his fault. The boy just didn’t want to believe it to be so. He didn’t want to believe he brought such a terrible end to the beautiful life Xerneas worked so hard to create.

But it kept happening. Some wouldn’t wither away immediately; they’d turn to stone first, before the elements took hold and caused them to crumble. All he brought was death and destruction. He’d withdraw on himself, but people were too kind. A sympathetic hand on his shoulder, asking him what was wrong. Their final words, words of concern, concern towards him, before they’d perish.

People started catching wind of what was happening, and fast. Mysterious deaths, starting around the time he entered their town. Even those he didn’t come into contact with would slowly have their life sapped from them, dying as nothing more than an unrecognizable husk.

The woman who was so kind as to give him a place to sleep would succumb this way, declining fast and dying before he awoke the next morning. Yveltal couldn’t bring himself to escort her to the next life. He was a coward. The only way he could protect himself was by being a coward.

From there, he was left to sleep in the streets. He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in a dead woman’s home and bring her such disrespect after the kindness she’d shown him. Alleys were where he’d make his home next. There was a night where he was awoken by torchlight, a group of angry townspeople staring him down. Without a word, a blade struck clean across his chest. Dark red ichor spilled from the wound and stained the stone beneath his feet.

He’d move away as the second strike came, the blade still tearing through his skin and leaving a trail of fire, though this cut was far less deep than the one before. The pain wasn’t what brought him to tears, no. It was the realization they were trying to kill him. With his back against the wall, a purple ball of light crackled to life. A beam shot forth from it, sweeping across the people and turning them to stone. Oh god, oh god what was he doing? He was panicking now, hands pressing to his wounds as his whimpers grew to full on sobs.

Yveltal would flee the town entirely, leaving a trail of blood behind. As he ran, the very grass at his feet would wither and die. A tree he’d placed a hand upon for stabilization shed its leaves, twisted branches growing black in color before it’d collapse into dust. Was it always like this? Or did he only stop growing blind to it once humanity was involved and he got hurt because of it?

While he was miles upon miles from humans now, there were rare moments where he’d see passing travelers, causing him to go on the run again before their concern spelled their death... or before their anger caused him more pain. Yveltal soon holed himself up in a cave, keeping his knees hugged to his chest. There, that way, he wouldn’t touch anything. He wouldn’t kill anyone or anything ever again, and nobody would come to a cave like this. It was damp and dark, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he stayed here forever, just as long as people stopped dying because of him.

It was hard to get it out of his head. The expressions they had in their final moments. The way they’d ask him how they died, because it was so sudden. They’d ask him why he was crying, and he didn’t know how to answer any of it. Tears slipped past his eyes as he rest his forehead on his knees.

He would stay like that for a long, long while. Curled up in a ball, continuing to shed tears. The blood on his hands had long since dried, but he had no way to wash it off. At least he didn’t have to look at it in the darkness.

There was no way of him to tell how much time had passed. No light reached the inside of the cave, and day and night blended together. Yveltal had no need to eat or sleep anymore; he wouldn’t die from it. Yes, he really could stay like this forever. He’d rock back and forth slightly, nodding as if he were affirming the idea to himself. It did bring him some pain thinking about never seeing Xerneas again, but perhaps he’d understand. Yveltal didn’t want to find out if his other half could die from his powers. He doubted it, but that was what caused this whole thing. Doubt.

Footsteps echoing along the rocky walls caused him to look up in alarm, hands already beginning to shake as he kept them as close to himself as he could. “What are you doing?” The glowing scales on the girl’s face tipped him off before the voice did. Zygarde.

“... I’m staying here.” He’d reply plainly, resting his chin back on his knees as he looked away. Not much good it’d do in total darkness. “I keep killing people, and they hurt me because of it, so I left.” The memory still stung like a slap to the face. “Zygarde? Am I a demon? Am I that bad?” He’d ask, desperation to his voice. There was a long pause, before the other would answer.

“I do not think of you in that way. You are my friend. That is why I came here to look for you. Do you not want to leave this place?” Zygarde replied, with a question of her own. Now he was the one who took a moment to answer.

“I want to leave, but I’m scared. What if it keeps happening? What if people keep dying because of me? I can’t do it anymore. I can never answer them when they ask why. I- I know I can’t die, but it feels like I am.” She’d step forward, blindly reaching for his hand and grasping it after a couple of tries. Yveltal let out a frightened noise and yanked his hand away quite violently, as if the touch had burned him.

“Oh, my apologies. I should have been more sensitive to your situation, Yveltal. Please, forgive me.” His quiet whimpers soon stopped as he sat up a tad bit straighter, realizing she hadn’t instantaneously withered away or turned to stone. “Wait-” he’d sniffle, “you- you didn’t die?” Yveltal reached a hand out blindly to find hers, forgetting how it felt to actually be in physical contact with someone.

“No, of course not. Remember, Yveltal? My aura cancels out yours. Your powers do not work as long as I am near you. The same goes for Xerneas, too.” Zygarde squeezed his hand. “Come on, this is no place for you to spend your days.” Yveltal was pulled up to his feet, his other hand moving down to rub at his knees. He was very sore from sitting like that for so long.

“Can you stay?” He’d blurt out. “Near me? So I don’t- don’t kill more people, I- I don’t want to stay here anymore, but it was the only way, Zygarde. They were all dying. It’s like I’m some sort of plague. All I do is kill, and kill, and kill-”

There was an exhale from the other. “Yveltal, you are not a plague. I do not want to hear you call yourself that ever again. This is beyond your control; do not beat yourself up needlessly.” Zygarde replied, sternly, before continuing. “Yes, I will stay with you, for as long as I can.” His shoulders slumped just a bit, but... she did have her own responsibilities to take care of, and she likely wasn’t hiding from her own like a coward.

“Okay... that’s fine. Thank you.”

After they left the cave, Yveltal was able to feel the sun warm his face for the first time in months. He could see how the leaves on the trees changed from verdant shades to reds, yellows, and oranges. He could live. The grass beneath him didn’t wither, nor did the trees he’d touch thanks to Zygarde being near.

For the first time in years, he was happy. He could be himself, and not worry about hurting the things around him. Yveltal even fed a Murkrow by hand, and it didn’t wither away. He could go into towns again, and watch people bustling about and taking care of their business. He could pet Furfrou and Purrloin without descending into a fit of panic.

They had been staying at a local inn for a while now, paid for by Zygarde, of course. He left to the next realm every now and then to do his job, able to escort deceased spirits to the afterlife with a little less crying than before, and for different reason, of course.

Yveltal would flop back onto one of the two beds in their shared room, waiting for Zygarde to return. She’d mentioned having an errand to run, though she promised him she’d strengthen her power to reach him all the way at the inn. Part of him was beginning to feel guilt. A knot rest in the pit of his stomach with each passing day. She did have her own life to live, of course, and he felt as if he were taking that away from her just so he could live his own. He snapped out of his thoughts as the door clunked open, the boy sitting up quickly.

“Hello, I hope that did not take too long.” Zygarde let out a long breath, winded from expending so much power. Yveltal shook his head. “It didn’t. I’m just glad you’re back.” He’d reply, watching her set down a bag on her bed. Zygarde rifled through it for a moment, before pulling out a small box.

“Here. This is for you.” She’d hand it to him. With a gaze full of curiosity, he was quick to open it. Inside were... two rings? Both were made of silver, with a small ruby in the middle of each band. One looked bigger than the other one, by a tad, as well. “Yveltal, I... am so sorry, but there are some things I need to take care of. I do not want to rope you into my own duties. I want you to be able to explore this world freely, and to not worry for my wellbeing.” She’d explain.

“The rings are imbued with my own aura, and were specially crafted for you. I am certain that as long as you wear it, you will still be able to interact with people and other living things freely, even when I am not around. The larger ring is for... well, for when you get older, and the smaller one no longer fits. I am sure it would only be a headache to get a new one made. For that purpose, I had a pair be made.” Zygarde hefted her bag up onto her shoulders. “I also paid for this room for another week, so you may stay longer and explore more of this town... and if you do not want that, I am sure you can get my money back and go see other new places. For now, though, we must part. I will get in touch with you as soon as I can.”

Tears welled up in Yveltal’s eyes as he carefully picked up the smaller ring from the box, as if it were made of glass and not metal. He made an attempt to slip it on his ring finger, though it was a little too big. It was moved to his middle finger, where it fit snuggly. He’d spring up and throw his arms around his friend, descending into a fit of sobs. It was such a thoughtful gift, and it helped his own guilt ease away. She could live her life and tend to her duties, and he didn’t have to get in the way anymore and make her expend unnecessary energy. Zygarde even thought ahead for the future with the larger ring, allowing him to keep his independence even when he was much older.

She returned the hug with a couple of pats on Yveltal’s back. He’d soon step back and wipe his eyes on his sleeve, unable to keep his eyes off the ring now. “Thank you, Zygarde, thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means, I- it’s incredible, thank you.” Zygarde smiled in response. “No need to thank me. I figured there was a way I could help you without being by your side, and I am fortunate that much was true. As I said, I will get back in touch as soon as I am able to.” She’d head towards the door and push it open, pausing to look back at him as her grin grew a tad bit wider.

“I truly hope you enjoy being able to live your life, Yveltal. Cherish the moments you make, and use them to light the way when the darkness becomes too much. See you later.” The door closed behind her with a thud, and Yveltal was left alone for the first time in a while.

This time, however, he felt more than prepared to tackle whatever may be thrown at him.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

In Another Life - Part 4

Masterlist (x)      

A/N: Surprise Update. Thanks for being so patient with me. It remains exciting ;)

     English is not my first language     → I do not own anything of the TVD - Universe and I’m not affiliated or                   associated with the writers etc. This is only a headcanon/fanfiction.

Pairing: Kalijah ( Katherine / Elijah )

TW: mention of blood and death

Word Count: 2.118

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

▬ A few days later ▬

Somewhere in Lafayette, Louisiana

Dead. A condition he couldn’t accept. For hours he had quarreled with himself and his sister’s words about Katerina's whereabouts before he had chosen to leave New Orleans.

The news about Katerina's fate had caught him cold. Not once had he thought about the possibility of Katerina being cured. Unlike his sister, the fierce brunette never showed any desire for the wish to become human again. On the contrary, Katerina enjoyed vampirism to its fullest. She's probably one of the most content vampires Elijah has ever met. To imagine that she had turned human, that immortality was stripped away from her, that she must have felt utterly alone and powerless, troubled Elijah. Especially because she had reached out for him, presumably to ask for help.

A request he couldn't comply with because he had a damned dagger in his heart.

Had that been her last impression of him? That he would drop her so easily after all those years? That he would deny her his help?

Surely that must have been what she has thought. Leaving her in Mystic Falls to join his brother hadn't been an easy decision, but it certainly hadn't been meant as a farewell forever. Although he hasn't mentioned it aloud, he had intended to reunite with her in the future, even if some years had passed.

Of course, there's no guarantee Katerina would have wanted to have him back, but he would have tried. Would have hoped she could understand his reasons at that time. At least he would have been able to see her one last time....

Elijah had chased his shiny black Porsche across the streets until he had reached a secluded place and entered a rundown cabin later only lightened by countless candles. The witch who lived here was the one who was the closest to New Orleans and lived still too far away to be included in any war between the species in the French Quarter. The woman is a person Elijah could trust with such a delicate matter.

"Faire à voir là ré. Faire à voir là ré."

"Do we have results yet?", Elijah asked calmly and looked at the witch in her mid-forties. His words might sound calm, but he got more restless the more time passed.

The witch’s eyes turned away from the map as she turned to face Elijah, followed by a slight shake of her head.

"No. The person you're looking for is not locatable."

Elijah’s hands clenched in his pocket to fist, his jaw tensing. Another failure. How often had they tried to locate Katerina by now? Four times? Six times? He had lost count.

Perhaps he should finally face the truth: Katerina is dead. He had lost her -- forever.

"Then we shall change the approach. Perhaps it's not a living person we're looking for, but a deceased one."

The flowing words were hard to speak out aloud. He didn't want to believe that his beloved Katerina has perished. That she's gone forever.

"I want you to find her remains."

It pained Elijah to even consider finding her remains. But if Katerina is truly dead, this is the only way to find her. Knowing the disrespectful rabble in Mystic Falls, Elijah wanted to make sure Katerina was buried dignified. If he truly cannot change her fate, if he's indeed too late to save her, he wanted to ensure that Katerina could rest in peace. In a place where she’s undisturbed, where no one can hurt her anymore. It's the only thing he can do for her and yet it feels as if it's not enough.

"Mister Mikaelson, that spell would involve the ancestors. That would go too far."

Elijah raised an eyebrow at the witches' concerns, the corners of his mouth dropping disapprovingly.

"Then so be it. Am I to assume it's a matter of price? How much do you want?"

The words hadn't even left his mouth when he already reached into the inside of his jacket and took out a bundle of money. Most witches can be bought and he fully intended on taking advantage of it. It's a low price he had to pay in order to find Katerina.

"Five hundred? Eight hundred? A thousand dollars?", his thumb browse through the banknotes without looking at the witch before he decided to lay the entire bundle of money on the nearby table, the tip of his index finger pinning the banknotes down.

"I think that should be enough to dispel your concerns. Go ahead, please."

The witch nodded before she returned her attention to the spread map on the table. Shortly after, a low chanting filled the room and echoed from the walls.

"Soeurs et freres, mwen rele sou nou. Mennen me sa me chache. Soeurs et freres, mwen rele sou nou. Mennen me sa me chache. Soeurs et freres, mwen rele sou nou. Mennen me sa me chache. Soeurs et freres, mwen rele sou nou. Mennen me sa me chache."

The candles started to flicker as the wind stirred up. Elijah could hear the dry leaves rustle outside the hut. An icy draft caught him (and oh well, it reminded him of death) before the small storm calmed down and everything fell silent again.

"The woman you searching for .... there are no remains. I do not believe she's dead. Otherwise, the ancestors would have found her."

A shred of hope lightened up in Elijah's eyes although he was careful to not allow that hope to spread. It doesn't serve as a guarantee that Katerina is still alive just because her remains could not be found.

"Then why is she untraceable? You should be able to find her with the pictures I have given you. Something which was once in her belonging."

Elijah was by far no newbie when it came to witchcraft. He had studied his mother's grimoire too many times, had made too many experiences with witches and magic.

"Perhaps something is cloaking her," the witch suggested but Elijah shook his head energetically. He didn't believe that's the reason.

As he had understood Rebekah, Katerina didn't only turn human, she also spent the entire summer on the run. If she were still under the influence of a cloaking spell, all Katerina had to do was holding still. The Original didn't dismiss the fact that Katerina had indeed worked with witches in the past and was often secured with several spells (including cloaking spells) but the things Rebekah had told him implied that something went wrong. That Katerina had lost that security somehow.

"Then there is nothing I can do. I am truly sorry--"

Elijah raised his hand in order to silence the witch, a deep frown etched upon his features. There had to be another way.

"I am aware the target's blood would bring the quickest and most effective solution but unfortunately, I'm not in possession of the blood of the person I'm looking for. Locating her with the help of a photo that once belonged to her didn't lead to the desired goal either."

He started to roll up his sleeve while continuing talking.

"You see, there's another way. The girl I'm looking for was never part of my sireline, never shared my bloodline, but our blood is somehow connected nonetheless."

Elijah didn't want to get too much into details, didn't want to explain that he's looking for a now human doppelgänger. That would only expose her to even more danger assuming she's still alive.

It was the blood of a doppelgänger which had a significant part in the creation of vampires. It is the blood of the doppelgänger which could undo that magic as mother had tried to prove. His siblings and the doppelgänger are connected by blood which is by far not enough to locate Katerina, but perhaps it's something. A different approach.

"Ever heard of a spell called Shadow Locator Spell? It's a different approach, which demands different ingredients," Elijah explained before he grabbed a knife and slit his wrist open so he could pour some of his blood over the picture Katerina had once given him. He did it without hesitation or even flinching.

"If done right, the spell allows me to pinpoint the location of the girl. It hides the location from the executing witch and instead of plants a picture in my head."

Although he didn't like to resort to that spell. It's too inaccurate, especially because he had no idea where Katerina could be. Of course, that would help to find out if she's still alive but he doubted it would help him to find her. It all depended on the surroundings if he's able to recognize something.

Elijah knew Katerina had a preference for cities such as Paris, Milano, New York City. But it's also very Katerina to hide in small towns, sometimes even villages. How is he supposed to ever find her if that's the case?

"That girl really seems to be important to you if you're willing to take such measures for her. You don't give up easily, do you?"

The witch asked while staring at the now blood-stained picture. Elijah had precisely chosen that picture. A picture Katerina had rated as failed because it had turned out blurred and too dark. Nonetheless, Elijah is glad he didn't choose to throw it away. He likes to keep private things private and therefore he's not too keen on letting every random person see in what kind of relationship he had been to the woman he's searching for. It's perfect for its purpose.

"I’m not known to give up fast." Elijah declared absently before he offered his hand to the witch. He needed to make contact with her in order to receive a hopefully helpful vision.

Closing his eyes, Elijah took in a deep breath and listened to the witches starting chanting. Apparently, she had known of this spell which saved him a great deal of work.

Bolts of Lightning flashed through his mind before he indeed received an image. It was fuzzy, too light to see much. Something which was strange because he had done this kind of locator spell many times before and up until now the vision had been always cristal clear. He's not sure why but something is blocking the spell. Not good enough to do the job perfectly but still good enough to make it difficult.

His grip around the witch's wrist grew stronger as he felt like he's getting kicked out of the vision. No, he can't let that happen until he finds out where Katerina is.

The vision seemed to get a bit clearer, now he could finally recognize a few details. A garden full of blooming flowers and roses. Flowerboxes on the windows. An old woman baking something with a fond smile on her face. Yet there's no sign of Katerina.

He wondered if he's in the right vision. If the spell had lead to the right person.

He frowned and inhaled deeply, knowing that his time is quickly running out. Focusing his mind on his target, Elijah kept searching for more details. At least a hint of where that scenario happens. His gaze wandered until he found some newspapers neatly folded in a magazine rack. The old woman just bent down to open the oven, the mirrored surface moving and quickly catching his shadow. A gasp followed and Elijah knew the woman had seen him.

Having caught all the details on the front page of the newspaper he needed, Elijah quickly pulled out of the vision and withdrew his hands from the witch's ones.

"You're finished?" she asked in disbelief and rubbed her wrists before she grabbed a glass of cool water to take a sip out of it.

"Quite. As interesting as that spell can be, it unfortunately has it's flaws." Elijah responded, hands wandering back into his pocket.

While no one can see his actual projection, they can see his reflection on surfaces. Sometimes that's quite useful to spread fear. He had done it with Elena before the ritual in order to ensure to know where she is but also ensure that she knows he knows.

But now he opted it's better if no one knew he's on Katerina's trace. Although he has no idea why he wasn't able to actually see her. At least it made him hope that she's still alive.

"Thanks for your great work. Have a nice evening."

With that, Elijah took the stained and run-down picture and turned on his heels, leaving the witch as well as the bundle of money for her efforts behind.

He had a town to visit and no time to lose.

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A/N:  If you like the story, please hit the heart and feel free to leave feedback (no hate please ♥)

[lothiriel84]

Welcome to the Sun

There’s an open horizon before us There is a rainbow under my eyes The detector reads low radiation And you’re fearless to rise till you’re high

A The Bunker ficlet. Tom & Dave friendship, with background (referenced) David/Dave.

Out of the ten of them, Charlie was the only one who knew how to cut hair properly. When he perished in a plague victim attack, Alex had to step into his shoes, and he was fine, mostly, even though David for one resorted to shearing his own hair himself, with mixed results at best.

In the end, it was just the three of them, and they somehow settled into the established routine of Dave being the only one allowed to hold a pair of scissors that close to David’s face – something to do with Tom ‘snipping off too loudly’, among other things, as they gathered eventually – while Tom took care of Dave’s periodic haircuts. As for Tom himself, he’d long since stopped complying with the standard company-approved hair length, which meant he only required the occasional trim, and even then, he was more than happy to do by himself.

Dave’s hair was auburn and naturally wavy, which in many ways made Tom’s job harder, but he was still proud of his own handiwork. And unlike David, Dave was perfectly capable of sitting still without unnecessary complaints, and was gracious enough to thank him afterwards.

“You sure you don’t want me to return the favour?” Dave offered, even as he studied his own reflection in the mirror. “I don’t mind, honest.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he shrugged, sweeping up the hair cuttings from the floor. David was very peculiar about leaving everything clean and tidy after a haircut, even more so when he was in no way involved in the process.

“Suit yourself,” Dave acquiesced, tapping at the packet of cigarettes he always kept on his person. “Cigarette?”

“God, yes,” he accepted, eagerly. “Cheers, man.”

“Let’s get some fresh air, yeah?”

As they climbed past the Stones of the Deceased they paused, as if by common accord. “To our colleagues and friends,” Dave uttered, raising his unlit cigarette in mock salute. “May the contaminated ground of the Wasteland rest lightly upon you.”

“Amen,” Tom nodded, and followed him up the ladder. As they emerged from the rooftop hatch, they were greeted by the jarringly familiar breeze that tasted ever so slightly metallic; no welcoming hail of bullets from their friendly scavenging neighbours, no crawling monstrosity in sight for miles.

He patted his pockets for his dodgy lighter, only took four tries to light both of their cigarettes. “This is the life, man,” he laughed, stretching his limbs towards the unforgiving heat of the winter sun. “Should’ve brought a couple of beers with us.”

“There are only half a dozen left,” Dave exhaled with a puff of smoke, his head a shock of fiery curls in full sunlight. “And you know how David gets when we start drinking without him.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, going for the diplomatic approach. David was a bloody nightmare when they crossed him, which seemed to be happening more and more frequently those days.

However awful their current conditions, it was still better than total oblivion, or that’s what he used to say in the early days after the Big Headache. Now, with several decades gone by with nothing to show but a collection of new stones adorning their welcome mat, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“David and I had sex two weeks ago,” Dave dropped the bombshell out of nowhere, his tone conversational, almost unnaturally so. “We might, again, at some point. I trust that won’t to be a problem?”

At a loss as how to react to such a casual announcement, completely devoid of any meaning or context, his attention focussed on such insignificant detail as the peculiar way Dave’s fingers flexed every time he was about to flick his cigarette. “I don’t – I mean – why?”

Dave stared back at him, his stance now somewhere between defiant and defensive. “You mean, why would I sleep with him, or why would it be a problem?”

“Why are you telling me?”

A shrug. “We’re stuck down there together, the three of us, whether we like it or not. There’s hardly much room for secrets when you’ll be sharing the same living space for gods know how long.”

“Right. Got it. It’s all cool, man. Honest.”

“God,” Dave rolled his eyes, and took another drag. “You sound just like David.”

“Look, I won’t pretend I understand whatever’s going on with you and David. If you’re happy then I’m happy, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Ha,” Dave shot back, clearly unwilling to elaborate any further. “That’s a good one.”

“If you ever need to talk,” he started, somewhat uncomfortably, only to be immediately cut off by Dave.

“I’m good. But thanks, anyway.”

They went back to smoking in silence, their cigarettes smouldering as the wind picked up. “Right. That’s enough radiation exposure for one day, I think,” Dave declared at length, stubbing out the butt against one of the supports holding the solar panels in place.

Tom dithered, taking plenty of time to crush what was left of his cigarette under his foot. “What’s a little radiation sickness between friends, am I right?”

Dave actually, genuinely burst out laughing at that. “I heard it works wonders for your hair, too.”

“No way! I worked really hard on that haircut, you know,” he was quick to remonstrate, shoving at Dave’s arm in mock offence.

“It’s just that my hair’s naturally amazing, you mean,” Dave smirked, running his fingers through it so as to purposely muss it up.

“Oh, yeah. I’d totally have sex with your hair, man.”

“Piss off,” Dave laughed, again, and made to open the hatch. “I’m cutting it myself next time.”

“Yeah, sure,” he huffed, even as Dave started climbing down the ladder. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you two coming down for tea and biscuits, or do I need to come and fetch you myself?” they could hear David loudly grumble from the bottom of the passageway.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Dave shouted back, rolling his eyes for Tom to see, and they both disappeared inside.

[madhattermoffits]

by Rhonda Moffit, Moffits-Mad Hatter Adventures  March, 2020

With such very busy lives, every so often we love to unwind with a weekend adventure. This recharges our batteries and allows us to find inspiration and appreciation that propels us into the forthcoming work week and beyond. Our most recent weekend adventure took us to Martin’s childhood, as his relatives lived in Hannibal, Missouri, when he was a boy. He, much like Tom Sawyer and creator Mark Twain, ran around this historic Mississippi River town as a youngster having fun and learning life’s early lessons. What many do not realize is the incredible history of this locale….so read on and see what we discovered.

One of the places that I, Rhonda, book for our clients that visit Hannibal that has had great reviews is the Garth Woodside Mansion Bed and Breakfast. We were anxious to check this place out for ourselves.

John Garth and Helen Kercheval were married on October 18, 1860. They had two children, John David and Annie. Sometime after the Civil War broke out, in 1862 or 1863, Garth moved his family to New York City. There he was engaged in banking, brokerage, and manufacturing. They returned to Hannibal in 1871, and Garth started a successful business career. Garth purchased a farm southwest of Hannibal and constructed his Italianate Second Empire summer residence about a mile outside of the hustling city in 1871,  which he named “Woodside”.  On the farm he raised and bred shorthorn and Jersey cattle.

As a businessman Garth entered many ventures. He was one of the organizers of the Farmers and Merchants Bank and served as its first vice-president. He became president in 1880, a position he held until near his death in 1899. He was also president of the Hannibal Lime Company, president of the Missouri Guarantee Savings and Building Association, and president of the Garth Lumber Company in Delta, Michigan. His wife and daughter funded several memorials to him, including the Garth Memorial Library Building, dedicated in 1902, and a tower and set of bells at the Trinity Episcopal Church.

Son John perished at the age of 21, sadly, while he was undergoing an appendectomy.  Family photos adorn the walls of Woodside.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known by his pen name of Mark Twain, not only grew up in Hannibal but had multiple visits back to visit friends during his lifetime. One of his childhood friends was in fact John Garth.  Samuel Clemens visited Woodside on several occasions, preferring to stay with his friends. He had his own particular favorite bedroom in the house and spent many hours laughing with the family in the downstairs parlor. When he published Life on the Mississippi, Clemens sent the Garths a copy. John Garth replied, “Thanks for the book. Each and every one at Woodside has enjoyed it greatly.” A note from Clemens to his manager requested a copy of Huckleberry Finn to be sent to the Garths upon its release. John Garth died in 1899.

There have only been six owners of the mansion since it was built, and most all of the original furnishings are still used. This brings me to the beds. Oh, the beds! This particular bed is valued at $55,000, being one of the most valuable in the United States. It is said that Mark Twain slept in this bed and the hand carved craftsmanship is beautiful. Other furnishings are original to the house as well, and it is truly like stepping back in time. Because Woodside has changed owners so infrequently, many of the belongings of the Garth family remain. The current innkeepers/owners (very friendly!) allowed us to roam the entire house and grounds and we were able to see everything the house has to offer, which is a lot.

After exploring the mansion and visiting with the llamas (resident livestock), we ventured into downtown Hannibal and decided to eat at the Mark Twain Dinette. Martin regaled me with tales of when he was sent by family to the Dinette to buy and bring home a jug of their homemade root beer. They have made the root beer onsite since going into business over 76 years ago, and it does not disappoint! If you visit, you should try one of their pork tenderloin sandwiches- it is enormous and one of the main dishes that they are known for.

After dinner, Martin walked me around the Mark Twain historic buildings- my own private tour.

It was fantastic. We then journeyed the short drive back to Woodside and enjoyed the rest of the night with complimentary wine, a fireplace, and a large jetted tub that I really wish I could bring home with me.

The next morning, we were provided a yummy breakfast and had some wonderful conversation with other guests. There are cottages at the rear of the property and they provide a beautiful view and private hot tubs on their decks. These are quite popular, and from what I gleaned from conversation with the others many like to return a couple times a year just to rejuvenate.

The next part of our adventure took us to Lover’s Leap. The views from this historic location are remarkable, and it was a beautiful day to behold.

Next, we traversed to Mark Twain Cave.

Made famous in Mark Twain’s writing, this location is the real deal. They offer tours, so of course we were all in. We went 250 feet below ground and saw everything we could see in the miles of tunnels made of limestone. Samuel Clemens even signed the cave wall when he was young- if you look in the center of the following image you can see “Clemens“.

Many, many people have been to the cave over the years- here I am, wandering around trying to get a feel for it- and loving every minute.

There are over 260 passageways, and it is easy to get turned around in the labyrinth. There is also a “marriage rock” within that has a story. There was a woman who discovered one of her ancestors had signed the cave wall and she had her wedding in the cave under the signature as an homage to the relation. Also look carefully in the photos for the signature from 1865. There are so many echoes from the past.

The Mark Twain Cave was discovered in the winter of 1819 when Jack Sims tracked a panther into what appeared to be a small den. He later discovered it was an extensive underground network. Twain included a lot of the cave in his book “Tom Sawyer”, as he found it to be a true source of inspiration as a child. He and friends used to light candles and enter the cave to explore it. The “Discovery” entrance is the original entrance (green sign) that was used, as you can see in the image.

Also notable:

Joseph Nash McDowell – He bought the cave in 1848 and was the owner during Mark Twain’s childhood. He is infamous for putting his recently deceased daughter into a copper cylinder and placing the cylinder in the back of his cave hoping to further his theory of human petrification. When Hannibal residents learned of this act, they begged him to remove her and bury her as was deemed proper.

Here is an image of where both McDowell’s daughter’s corpse was stored and where Jesse James placed his signature in the cave.

Jesse James — After a botched robbery attempt he hid out in Tennessee. In 1879 he decided to head for Independence, MO to assemble a new gang. On his way through, he signed his name in the Mark Twain Cave which is dated September 22, 1879, sixteen days before he robbed a train in Independence with his new crew, and only three years before his death.

The cave was a remarkable adventure and we spent a lot of time exploring it.

Also in Hannibal is the home of the “Unsinkable” Molly Brown. Molly was born in this house just a few blocks away from the home of Mark Twain. Margaret Tobin Brown was an activist and survivor of the Titanic. Born in 1867, she was the daughter of Irish immigrants. In her lifetime, she and her husband rocketed to fame during the Gold Rush. In a lifeboat as the RMS Titanic sank, Molly shared layers of clothing and urged others to survive the disaster. She used her status to inspire others to fight for children’s and worker’s rights for the remainder of her life.

For all of us Disney fans, Hannibal is also a special place. It is the birthplace of voice actor and musician Cliff Edwards, better known as the voice of Pinnochio’s Jiminy Cricket. Edwards was born in Hannibal and left school at the age of 14 to move to St. Louis. He taught himself to play the ukulele, choosing it because he said it was the cheapest instrument in the music shop. He was nicknamed “Ukulele Ike” by a club owner that could never recall his actual name, and it stuck.

Hannibal has so many stories, and there is so much to do and to see. If you visit between April and November you can even take a riverboat cruise on the Mississippi courtesy of the Mark Twain- they even offer dinner cruises. We plan on returning again soon, and before we departed, we returned to the Mark Twain Dinette to grab a root beer for the road. OK, we actually bought a case to take home. What a wonderful getaway!

Hope you enjoy sharing our adventures- be sure to give us a like, a comment, or at least have a drink of this fabulous root beer next time you are in Hannibal for us!

******

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***

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Always consider booking with an Authorized Disney Vacation Planning agency, such as Mad Hatter Adventures. We will be available to assist you with everything from finding the best value for your travel party to getting dining reservations and Fastpass+ attractions lined up.  Just get in touch with us at moffits@madhatteradv.com or watch our adventures on Facebook. We don’t just book travel, we LIVE it!

Images copyright Moffits: Mad Hatter Adventures, 2020

      A $55,000 Bed, Mark Twain, Jiminy Cricket, Jesse James, Root Beer and Spelunking- It’s A Weekend Getaway Adventure to Hannibal, Missouri by Rhonda Moffit, Moffits-Mad Hatter Adventures  March, 2020 With such very busy lives, every so often we love to unwind with a weekend adventure.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

My Crush

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!Reader

Words: 2075

Summary: After Y/N becomes a permanent resident as a ghost in the Murder House: she witnesses Michael grow and mature, leading to something of their first time...

Warnings: mentions of murder, fluff, SMUT, oral receiving (girl gives guy) & fluff :) , short time jump (***)

REQUESTED BY - ANON 

“ Hey, first of all your blog keeps me going, you are so goddamn talented. I've had an idea floating around in my head after I saw a gif imagine thing and I feel like you'd write it perfectly (If you're still taking requests of course). Basically it's something along the lines of Michael's first friend & crush being a ghost in the Murder House and him losing his virginity to them. You don't have to make it smutty but if you can that'd be cool. You can change some of the plot to make it work :) ” 

A/N - AHHH thank you sm for the kind words, I really appreciate it xx so sorry for the delay lovely, but here it is! Hope you enjoy it xox 

Michael Langdon, the mysterious boy next door who had spontaneously grown to become your best friend. He knew who you were, or more so what you were…A ghost. You’d passed many years before Michael was even born: murdered by your own unforgiving parents. The house had driven them mad, enough to have persuaded them into believing you were some kind of threat. And there you were, your body left to rot beneath the depths of the house, with your parents unrelentlessly leaving behind the entirety of the house and their lives, away from their crimes…It seemed reality bit them back, and their guilty conscious could no longer bear the reminder the house held, nor your ghostly figure.

It was there that the previous ‘deceased’ owners of the house had now become your family: growing accustomed to their ways, that was until the Harmons had moved in.

All Hell had broken loose, and you decided best to avoid any interaction with the family, besides their youngest daughter Violet, whom you had grown close to. It was through them, right to the end of their humane lives did you witness Michael’s birth.

Constance was right…He was a beautiful boy. And yet, a part of you saddened that his family had all perished, you were relieved to hear, he wouldn’t be raised in the ‘Murder House’, it surely was no place for any child, despite knowing exactly what Michael was…

Although, you still continued to watch over him, grow into the little boy he was: always finding him standing outside of the house, peering through the window of the second floor, where you stood happily waving to him. It was only then, did his curiosity and bravery take the best of him… Going against his grandmother’s wishes, he entered the house himself, wandering through passing by each ghost until he’d found you.

The only exchange made was a series of smiles, aand Michael reaching to hold your hand. It felt pure, you believed from then on, that innocence resided in him: it was just a matter of time until he’d choose to accept it. Although, your meeting had come to an abrupt end, with Constance barging through the room, instantly picking him up in her arms, hastily trying to escape before any harm could come his way.

After that, you’d hardly seen Michael, each day growing worried that something terrible must have happened, or perhaps Constance had finally relieved herself of her attachment to this place, only to seek out a new town, a new home for Michael to grow. It pained you, although if it was for the betterment of Michael, it was all you could’ve asked for and more.

That was until, the creaking sound of the front door had swung open, except for the Harmons and Tate, all the ghosts had begun crowding around, intrigued as to who possibly would have bought the house now…And there he stood, an adolescent boy, who seemed just a few years older than yourself, you felt a sense of familiarity towards him yet couldn’t pin point who it was exactly…

“Y/N” He whispered, his voice broken, as his eyes having travelled from ghost to ghost finally locked with yours.

“M-Michael?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, realising that it had only been a few months since you had last seen Michael…This was all too impossible.

“Yes” He sighed, a bright smile growing on his face, with relief oozing from his body.

“Wha-What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, stepping closer towards you, reaching for your hand to hold: and instantly you’d remembered the first time you’d met…The little boy that he was no longer existed.

“I-I mean…You’ve grown!” You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, not wanting to startle Michael who clearly showed no realisation of his drastic transition.

“It was my father!”

Nodding in agreement to his words, you’d only come to realise that his mannerisms were still that of a child…You knew that no explanation or conversation would aid him to understand, so you simply went along with the situation.

Each passing day you found, as Michael had become a regular visitor to the house, ‘only for you’ he’d shyly admitted, you noticed how rapidly he’d matured mentally, simply overnight.

You were perplexed yet impressed: you’d grown to become quite fond of him just being there. Your conversations changed drastically, from talking about video games, to discussing your previous life, and secrets.

He was a good person, no matter how many times Violet tried to persuade you differently, constantly reminding you that he was literally the spawn of Satan, you simply wouldn’t budge.

With Michael now, you just couldn’t see eye to eye with her: he was different to what everyone made him to be, especially around you. He was a good person, and that’s all that mattered.

And today was the day, Michael would prove just that.

***

“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to tell you something, something that’s been eating me up from inside.”

Anxiously seating himself up on the couch beside you, you knew something was up from the moment he arrived that evening. You both had organised to watch a film, one you hadn’t seen yet since technically, you just couldn’t leave the house. Throughout the entirety of the film so far, Michael seemed rigid, more silent than usual, and for most of the time, he was the talkative one.

“About time-” You sighed, directing your body to face him completely.

“it feels weird seeing you like this!”

“Y/N I-I have something to say, something that I’m hoping we both can agree on. Something I hope won’t change what we have…”

“Just spit it out, Michael” You plea, your impatience growing thinner by the passing second.

“Y/N, I think I may just have a crush on you...I think-actually- I know I have. I just feel like I’ve known you my entire life, and just being here with you right now… I wouldn’t ask to be anywhere else. This feeling is overwhelming for me, but I can’t deny that it is love...”

You froze, stunned by the words he so confidently blurted.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t ever thought about it, the fact that you’d grown to fall for Michael. You were always too distracted by your fleeting moments with him, since his visits were always just him sneaking around before Constance could find out. It never really hit you, that you were indeed in love with Michael, until now.

Was it your fear of rejection, or that you simply were just too oblivious?

It no longer mattered now, he loved you this entire time and that was all you wanted to hear.

“Michael, I-I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that…”

Witnessing the growing smile on your face, he knew instantly that you were it… You were the one.

It may have simply just been a ‘small crush’ for him, though his next move proved that wrong.

The feeling of exhilaration, as his lips crashed down against yours, his hands gradually snaking their way up your thigh and onto your waist, you knew this was it.

He was a boy in love, and you were just a girl in love, both with each other, and this was the moment that would prove just that.

His body began to tower over yours, his hands pushing you to lay down against the couch.

It was Michael’s first time, just as it had been yours and it most likely was your only time. And yet, it was special.

“If you don’t want to-”

“No, no, of course” You breathlessly uttered, your lips slightly parting from his to agree to continue. You weren’t about to lose this moment.

Feeling his dick growing against the restriction of the fabric of his pants, protruding right againt your cunt, you felt an ache between your legs, wanting more.

His movements pacing themselves, feeling his body grinding against yours, your breasts squashed against his chest, you ached for skin to skin.

“Off...clothes” You whispered, and instinctively he knew. Kneeling himself above you, his arms stretching above his body, to remove his shirt, with you squirming below, to remove your dress. Unhinging your bra, you were prepared for Michael’s touch, just as he was for you.

Instantly, you both resumed to action.

This time however, you pushed Michael once again to kneel atop of you, as you fell from the couch, kneeling on the floor.

At first, he looked utterly puzzled, before your hands laid atop of his knees, travelling down his thighs, before unzipping his pants.

Thrusting his hips up, for you to lower his pants and boxers, did you instantly lean forward, not wanting to waist precious time.

Your mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock: a slight moan escpaing his mouth from the foreign, erotic sensation.

“Fuck.”

The deeper you engulfed his dick, the louder the moans had become, sounding more like grunts. His hand grabbed yours that rested on his thighs, gripping you ever so tightly.

“F-Fucking amazing, Y/N.”

You’d never seen Michael tremble as much as he did just then. On the verge of spilling anything, feeling his dick moisten to your touch, the way your mouth circled around his dick, massaging it plenty, causing him to grow ever more, expanding the walls of your mouth beyond their capacity. It was only then, you finally released.

Climbing back unto the couch, your legs bent upwards and completely opened for Michael to enter… It was all you pained for at this moment.

“In me…” You eagerly utter.

His lips smoothly nibbling your neck, leaving trails of wetness and goosebumps, you found yourself craving for more.

And just as you’d wished, feeling the sudden, painful thrust of Michael’s manhood inside of you, felt both painful and beautiful.

“Anything for my, Princess.”

His thrusts ever so sloppy and fast-paced, you felt ecstasy like never before. His lips now pecking your exposed breasts, you felt them perking and hardening against his touch.

“Am I making you feel good, Princess?! Hel playfully growls, as his dick continues protruding inside of you, growing in excitement and size… It felt unreal. You simply had no ability to formulate a response, moaning in silence, before hastily nodding in agreement.

“So fucking tight! Fuck!”

Your walls you felt, were indeed clenching around his dick tightly, each time he hit your clit directly, you screamed his name. The feeling of his throbbing dick against your vagina, you felt your immensely satisfied.

“Michael!”

“Say it again… This time louder, baby!”

And with perfect timing, in tune to each thrust, deeper than its previous, you screamed for “Michael!”

“I’m about to cum” You breathlessly retort, as your juices oozed from the sides of your cunt, drenching your thighs completely.

“Do it Y/N… Cum for me.”

Once again, in that exact moment, by his exact words, your cum had drenched his dick completely. The warm wave of your cum, triggered him to release a slight, disgruntled growl, as he tried to keep himself composed.

Yet, within a few passing moments, you felt your insides completely drenched, the pure combination of both your juices and Michael’s was exquisite, and like no other.

“Fuck me, baby… Look at the mess we’ve made.”

His comedy, causing you to release a slight, exasperated laugh, feeling his lips roughly stroke against yours, as your sweating bodies, radiating with steam, collide immensely. His thrusts became slower and much more sloppier, and yet still eventful.

Feeling each other in every way possible, the intimacy between you two was extraordinary, before simultaneously deciding to release one another. Just as he did, you felt his hands wrap around your waist/back, lifting and turning you to the side, just as he laid beside you. Your head rested against his shoulder, as his lips planted one final, heartfelt kiss of the night: you knew this was just right.

“That was amazing!” Michael exclaimed, ever so breathlessly that he was inhaling a breath of fresh air after every word.

“Agreed!” You chuckle, your hand slowly reaching over his bare, sweaty chest as your fingers began to smoothly trace over it.

“So I guess, I’m more than just a crush, huh?” You arrogantly implied, diverting your attention from his broad, heaving chest, meeting him eye to eye.

“You sure are, and I’ll make sure you know that now and always, my angel.”

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[jinjojess]

DR Kirigiri Vol. 5 Summary Part III

I’ve had most of this done for over a week now, but god am I so tired these days.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

Chapter 1 The Mania of Existence: The Museum of Medieval European Torture Devices - Mizuiyama Sachi

Like Yaki, Mizuiyama was introduced in DRK3 during the Takeda Haunted House case and was given a specific Duel Noir to handle last book. Mizuiyama was the one who was framed at the Haunted Mansion case, the tiny woman in kimono with glasses. She also seemed to be developing a crush on Yadorigi last book. 

Anyway, this part opens with Mizuiyama arriving at the museum a few hours after leaving the others, musing about how the building was originally for storing things for a nearby university, but about twenty years ago was turned into a museum, only to then more recently wane in popularity thanks to its creepy vibe and the surrounding home owners not being crazy about being so close to torture devices. It’s this bizarre, unnerving building up on a hill overlooking a peaceful residential area.

In the past, Mizuiyama had actually been called out to inspect the property because there was interest in refurbishing the building, but ultimately the university decided it wasn’t worth the cost, so they just closed the museum down. What’s happened there since then is known only to those in the neighborhood.

The reason Mizuiyama had come by before had nothing to do with what the museum housed, but rather to see the building. It was one of those famous places that she’d wanted to visit as a young scholar. 

Arriving this time, she notes that the vibe of the place hasn’t changed--it’s still got the glass facade and the imposing square structure. She does notice that the sharp edges of the building have been angled off, maybe to try and off-set how creepy the building looks.

Also, to her surprise, the grounds are crawling with people. 

Not patrons, of course, but the police and the fire department. Looks like she’s too late.

Pretending she’s supposed to be there, Mizuiyama heads inside the building, drawing some eyes but not being stopped by anyone. There’s a chill in the air inside the building, and it isn’t long before a man, wearing a university staff badge around his neck and standing by the entrance counter, approaches her to ask why she’s there. They aren’t accepting any visitors today because there’s been a...problem. About to ask further, Mizuiyama trips on her zouri sandals and her glasses go flying, which unnerves the staff member a bit as he picks them up and asks if she’s okay. She tells him it’s fine, the glasses are made to be particularly hardy (ignoring his confused clarification that he meant is she okay), instead asking for more details into the problem.

He reluctantly tells her that there’s been a fire on the premises, which is a surprise to Mizuiyama. A fire? Didn’t the challenge card distinctly say the murder weapon would be an iron maiden? (This is the Virgo case, P.S.) This prompts a short dip into what an iron maiden is, and about its supposed use as a torture/execution device for the likes of Elizabeth Bathory and such in the Middle Ages, but its actual role in history is disputed today. Mizuiyama remembers the museum has a replica of the iron maiden from Nuremberg (the original having been destroyed by bombing during WWII), and she had been assuming that the victim of the case would be killed by locking them into the iron maiden replica.

So what’s the deal with this fire? Is it related to the Duel Noir and the Committee for the Salvation of Victims of Crime at all?

She asks the staff member if anyone died in the fire, to which he replies yes, someone affiliated with the university perished. When Mizuiyama asks for the person’s name, the man gets suspicious and says that if she’s from the media, he’s not going to talk to her.

It’s at this point that Mizuiyama starts to impress me. 

So yeah, she could just tell him that she’s a detective investigating what is now a possible homicide, but instead she takes a completely different approach, since she doesn’t know who this guy is or if he’s part of the Duel Noir or not. Remember, Mizuiyama is cautious to a fault--she didn’t even want to meet with Kirigiri and Samidare until the other detectives showed up.

“Do I look like someone from the media?” Mizuiyama showed off her Japanese outfit. “My husband works for the university. I came worried that something may have happened to him...”

“O-oh? My apologies, may I have your name?”

“Mizuiyama.”

“In that case, there is no need to worry, ma’am. The deceased is a professor named Idogaki. ...Um, Mizuiyama-san, which department does your husband work in...?”

“Idogaki-san is dead?” Mizuiyama asked, ignoring the question. “My husband has been indebeted to him many times during conferences.”

“I see... My condolences, then.”

“Would you mind sharing the specifics of what happened?”

“Um, my apologies, but as you can see, things are a bit of a mess right now...”

“I owe Idogaki-san so much. At the very least, please tell me what happened.”

She doesn’t even miss a beat here with the lie, it’s kind of incredible.

Thanks to her pushing, the guy breaks down and give her an overview of what happened. The fire broke out in a small cottage built of prefab in the courtyard around four hours ago, 1 p.m. on January 11th, which was the time that Mizuiyama was with all the other detectives divvying up cases. The fire department was called and rushed out, putting out the fire quickly, only for them to find the charred remains of fifty-year-old university professor Idogaki Fukuju inside the burned hut. His cause of death has yet to be determined.

Mizuiyama asks if the building has been closed all this time, and the staff member reveals that usually it is, as a few years prior it was purchased by some organization. The only people who come are those to take a look at the records and items stored there. Mizuiyama’s next question is who the person is that is responsible for those things, but the staff guy doesn’t know--he’s only worked for the university since last year and has been mostly doing office work. Her final question is if all of the torture devices inside are still where they’re supposed to be, to which the man answers probably, but starts to look suspicious. Noticing that, Mizuiyama thanks him and leaves.

Though her usual detective work is with wood and concrete, Mizuiyama actually has a really good talent for reading people (GET IT? CAUSE SHE’S THE MEGA JAPANESE ONE?). She’s so good at picking up on facial expressions and tones of voice that if she’d become a therapist, she’d surely be running a famous clinic by now. In fact, she has experience being a school counselor. However, she believes that buildings are much more complex and difficult to read than humans, and she has an academic interest in studying and understanding the souls of buildings. (It’s a Shinto thing.)

What sort of soul dwelt in a building full of torture devices?

That’s the whole reason Mizuiyama took this case--in order to find out. Since the goal was just to gather information, nobody should complain if she wants to exercise her academic curiosity. 

There’s still too many holes here in the case though--why is the victim burned to death if the listed weapon was an iron maiden? Why choose this place as the site for the Duel Noir at all? Mizuiyama decides she needs to know more, and heads outside into the courtyard to get a look at the remains of the burned-down hut.

When she heads into the back garden, it’s as she remembered it, save for one thing sitting on top of the large hill in the center.

An iron maiden.

It’s just chilling there on top of this snowy hill, the highest thing in the entire garden. Mizuiyama realizes at this point that the Committee is definitely involved. She knows their calling cards well. Strange cases. Strange motives. Strange methods. 

There’s a bunch of footprints in the snow leading up to the iron maiden, which Mizuiyama assumes are from the police. Making sure to mix her footsteps in with theirs, she makes her way up to the device, and realizes something’s off about it. It’s certainly in the shape of a woman, and you could shove someone in there, but it’s missing its head.

Thinking for a second that a headless corpse might be inside, Mizuiyama peeks into the iron maiden, but sees nothing in there. Which makes sense, since if there’d been a body, the police probably wouldn’t be leaving the device on its own like this, and there’d be blood on the snow around it. Upon further investigation, Mizuiyama notices that the iron maiden is...really small. Like, even with the head, it would only be big enough for non-fully-grown girl to fit inside. Both halves are closed, but she can still see countless spikes within. Given this is a replica, for safety reasons they’ve been rubbed down into a non-threatening crayon shape.

It hardly strikes fear into one’s heart.

Two guys then show up asking what she’s up to there. They’re in suits, so Mizuiyama assumes they’re cops, and shows both her inspector’s license and her detective ID card. She wasn’t intending to give away her real identity while here, but trying to keep track of a bunch of lies wouldn’t really help much with investigating. 

The cops ask what she’s doing there again, and she turns the question back on them. One looks offended while the other snorts as if she’s joking, and they both show their IDs, proving they’re actually the police. Mizuiyama is one of the many detectives out there who isn’t good with dealing with law enforcement, especially after her horrible encounter the day before (yes, DRK3 was one day ago in DRK time) at the Takeda Haunted House. Though she’s itching to get back at the police for all the questioning and indignity of being treated as the prime suspect, she decides to tamp it down for now and be good.

Instead, she shows a copy of the Duel Noir challenge card, explaining that she received it and thought it was a joke, but decided to come check things out just in case it wasn’t. One of the cops takes a look at the copy, commenting that he has no idea what it says, thanks to an effect applied to it that makes it difficult to read. She points out that you can just make out where it talks about the museum, and says that she received it from an unknown fax number (faxes are still a thing in Japan to this day). Mizuiyama reports that some other detectives she knows also received it, and asks if something has actually happened.

The policemen share a look and one of them comments that he’s heard a rumor about a black challenge card before, and wonders if this could be it. Mizuiyama plays dumb, asking what he means by a black challenge card, thinking to herself that it would make sense if the higher ups in law enforcement know that the Committee exists and were trying to find a way to combat them.

The cops ask Mizuiyama if she can spare some time to talk to them about the Duel Noir challenge card, and suggest heading back into the museum, but she wants to know what the iron maiden is doing outside and how long it’s been there. Though they have no clue why the device is in the garden, they finally relent after Mizuiyama refuses to budge in telling her that it wasn’t there as of the day before. 

“So it was placed here right before the fire?”

“We don’t actually know if that’s the case.”

“So then the fire and the sudden appearance of this strange thing in the garden are unrelated?”

“We have no idea.”

“So they aren’t related.”

“Er...Mizuiyama-san?”

“Is this the only thing you found left here in the garden?” Mizuiyama continued.

The two police detectives exasperatedly shrugged.

Despite that the plan was for the two policemen to question Mizuiyama, in the end she’s the one asking questions and they’re the ones answering. She considers this to be appropriate payback.

According to the intel she receives from the cops, the cottage was a fairly large one (like, larger than my 2DK apartment) that’s situated at the bottom of the hill behind the museum. Mizuiyama was only able to catch glimpses of it, since the two cops were standing in the way. It was mostly used for storage.

Though the inside was completely charred, the hut managed to keep standing. The windows were broken by the time the firemen arrived, which was judged to be a result of the fire itself. The windows and doors were locked from the inside, with keys being discovered in the pants pocket of the victim. However, there’s a possibility that the key discovered does not actually go to the locks on the cottage entrance and windows. 

Still, when the fire broke out, there’s no doubt it was a locked room situation.

The fire started after noon, and if anyone were to approach the cottage then, their footprints should have still been in the snow. The victim was found face up on a futon in the center of the room, with no outer wounds nor signs of struggle. For the time being, his cause of death is considered to be burning.

Apparently, the origin of the fire was his pillow, and there were matches and cigarettes found in the general area, so the current assumption is that the blaze was started by a lit cigarette.

While this is all well and good for a news story, there’s still several things that don’t add up. For one, why was Prof. Idogaki smoking himself to sleep in a locked storage shed on the property of a closed-down museum? 

Apparently he’d quit smoking several months prior, and perhaps was getting his fix in private. Maybe since most of the campus was becoming non-smoking, he decided to hide away in an abandoned spot that belonged to his place of work?

This is the police’s explanation, and most people would consider the case closed at this point.

However, the cops have ignored one huge, glaring piece of evidence.

That lonely, headless maiden that suddenly appeared in the garden.

She’s the one who holds the key to this locked room murder, Mizuiyama thought.

< LAST PART | NEXT PART >

[erickadracula]

The last good-bye

They were in one of the great halls that overlooked the beautiful garden of English roses, which recalled the times when Abraham used to live there. They were just blooming after a long, dark winter. The sun's rays were warmer and the days slightly longer.

"Why have you asked me to meet you here? , it is something unusual of you, grandfather" Willhem adored the frescoes of that room and the harmony in the decoration. High ceilings in cream color with golden motifs and pastel colors with frescoes of deities and gloriously dressed characters enjoying mass parties full of abundance, were magnificently captured. Of all the residences, this was the least somber.

The Van Helsing State was a set of four residences divided, according to their use and time of the year. The main one was where the family members lived and the other three served to guard relics, extensive libraries, art or as offices and chambers to receive ambassadors, politicians, philosophers and nobility and sometimes, royalty.

They were in the spring-summer residence, almost a month before Van Helsing officially began the Easter celebrations.

"There are less people here who can spy on us, most of the servants are in the main residence.”

Abraham had always been a cautious man, but he could not deny that with age he had also become a little paranoid.

He saw his beloved grandson, putting on his three-piece suit and using his distinctive cane as if he were a dandy. He had grown so much, he had become a faithful portrait of his father and sometimes forgets that he is not talking to his son, but to his grandson.

His platinum blonde curls, his mustache perfectly waxed, with harmonious features, he might look like an angel, if he didn’t have a scar on the eyelid of his left eye. He was a stocky man who liked extreme sports and adrenaline in its purest form.

"Grandpa, thank you for entrusting me with this mission of God. You know that I am proud to belong to this institution."

He kissed the hand of the person who had offered him so much wisdom and challenges. Abraham had raised him to be at the same level and likeness of his deceased son and Willhem had a complete devotion.

"You are my pride, I know that you will do a good job and you are willing to run any necessary risk in this mission."

His trip to Africa was not just a diplomatic visit, but a covert mission.

The Dutch ambassador of the Congo had something in his possession that was required for his mission, a map with coordinates that could give the location of the lost city of Atlantis. Inquiring for years, there were only two books that contained what appeared to be a map of that fictional place and Abraham had one of them in his possession but it was incomplete. He had bought it in one of his expeditions in an antique market. Having almost scarce information and hiring secret investigators, he could find the location of the other map several decades later.

"How can we know that we can trust him?”

They were very troubled months, there were many social nonconformities and were difficult times where there was no certainty of anything or anyone. There was also much fear of the monsters, and in some regions, there were rumors that they were causing unfortunate massacres and events.

"We just know, he owes me many favors. And he was the only one who found the person who had this. "

He pointed to the book with worn leather cover that had as its title a series of indecipherable characters.

"When we have this in our power, it is when you say we will embark?" Showing some displeasure at having to depend on others to carry out things, maybe he was not entirely brilliant but he was a man of action.

"Yes, as you know I do not know how many years it will take us, it could be hundreds, but it will be necessary to kill the monsters and especially with Dra ..." Putting his hands together and making faces of displeasure when trying to pronounce that name.

"With Dracula. Are you saying that there is no chance that I would beat him in a close-quarter battle? What are the chances of beating him with this object? "

Abraham loved to see the disposition of his beloved boy.

"If the legends are true, he would perish without any problem. It's something so powerful that it wiped out an entire city. "

That vision was really terrifying and grandiose, Willhem felt like his body was filled with an emotion too difficult to stop.

They heard a few steps and suddenly, the great doors opened wide. It was Dagmar, who entered with her elegant and provocative step, behind her came the butler as well, his face visibly agitated.

"Excuse me, I told the madam that I had to announce her before, but she did not listen.”

Van Helsing,throwing a quick glance of boredom at his grandson, quickly changed his expression to one of joy.

"Oh Daggy, my favorite ornament, how have you been? I'm glad you dignified to say goodbye to me. "

Dagmar made her entrance dressed in a white business suit, with some inspiration in the costumes of the first explorers of Africa, with a matching hat and a cascade of pearls around her stylized neck.

“Don’t come to me with hypocresies dear, but I'm always perfect and you, squeaking as usual?"

The relationship between the two of them had been at first honey on flakes, until she had discovered the true perception that he had about her, and the position that everyone handled in that house, the sun king and the other planets that surrounded him.

"I like this girl, her audacity and her lack of consideration towards elders, I like it" pointing to her while she sat next to her husband.

"Oh don’t start, you look like children. Without further ado grandfather, we will have to retire. The driver is already waiting for us to take us to the hangar. "

"You already told him my conditions, my love, that I want to be active in the missions. I no longer want to be just the companion" Stroking his shoulders as she lay her chin on one of them and watching Abraham laughingly.

“Yes, he already knows sweetheart, I think it's fair that you also take part in this"

Van Helsing hiding his annoyance, swallowed hard. "I'm glad that you're finally taking your role seriously"

"Well, we have to leave" Dagmar felt more than resentment in her heart for that antiquity as she called him in private, and it was difficult for her to contain herself "I hope he takes good care of her.”

That separation was painful, in spite of being a rather cold mother, her little one was the only being in that house to whom she could show love and of whom she felt genuinely concerned.

"You do not have to ask me, you know I would give my life for my great-granddaughter" feeling slightly assaulted by that comment.

Willhem hated being in the middle of that field of fire before two such explosive personalities, he had learned to get all of that out during in his workouts and always kept the composure.

“I did not talk about my daughter" lying to herself made her feel like she was winning some kind of battle against him. “I spoke of my mare, I already left the servants the instructions for her care" Looking at the butler who watched them silently.

Van Helsing was baffled at that clarification while she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. He hated being approached too much, except by his grandson.

Leaving him a red lipstick mark, she just smiled as she saw the surprised face of her husband. It was her little revenge.

"You already know that I detest these unnecessary expressions of affection" he said while cleaning the place where he had been kissed without realizing that he was getting even more stained.

"At least you did not say it was Judas' kiss. Is it because of the connections my family has with royalty.” She straightened her hat and took her purse, “or because my grandfather was a great friend of yours? Oh yes, thanks to him you could work for the queen, I had forgotten. "

Going to the exit, and stopping just before to make him, with a cynical pose, a farewell signal before disappearing in the hall.

Once again the two alone, returning the sight towards one another, felt that whatever happened in that trip would be the last thing.

"Dear boy, take great care of yourself" somehow he felt a great weight in letting him go and he couldn’t explain it. "I'll wait for your return."

"Please do not take it the wrong way, do not listen to Dagmar, and please take good care of our daughter. If something would happen to us, I know she would not be in better hands" embracing what was left of him.

"Don’t say nonsense boy, the next time we see each other, it will be to embark, and to finally conclude our legacy" he took his hands and shook them tightly.

That was just another mission of the day-to-day life he carried out in the name of Abraham, he was used to being his spokesman and being the public image of the family. Even if there were risks, he would be willing to take them.

Taking his cane and heading for the exit decisively, he stopped short when he heard his ancestor with a loud voice telling him.

"The Van Helsing honor you and you honor them."

[backyardstargazer]

On Grief

Earlier this year, I found myself sobbing and breaking down when my blue-colored, flowered drawn plate got stuck inside the perfectly fitted pan when I washed the dishes. I cried for hours, lamenting the fact why I was incapable of performing a task as simple as this. It was the beginning of an existential spiral of doom. I banged my head across the apartment floor, trying to inflict as much pain as possible to myself. My throat was chocked, my eyes were blinded by the tears, my thoughts was clouded. For moments, I could not think, could not breathe, and in a state of shock that weaken all of my body. 

At that time, I did not know that it had nothing much to do with the perfectly fitted plate and my stupidity. 

***

A couple months before, I had lost my grandmother with whom I was quite close—as far as “close” means in my family. My grandmother was a fierce lady. As a noblewoman, she was betrothed with her cousin—my grandfather. When my grandfather went on to go polygamous with lord knows how many women in how many cities, my grandmother decided she had enough of it and left. With the help of our family, she started a business. Slowly, steadily, with her own small ladylike hands she never used for hard labor, she concocted her own brand of “dendeng”—delicacies made of meat. From all of my cousins, I am the only one that inherit her small and ladylike hands, her facial features, even her height. 

The news of my grandmother’s passing was surreal. I was on my way home to my apartment when my cousin called me to pick up my aunt from the airport. She was here for my grandmother’s funeral.

Apparently, I was the last to know.

In a split second, my life had changed. The grandmother I used to “sungkem” to every year was no more. She was the last surviving grandmother I had. It did not take me long to grieve for her passing. After shedding tears (while doing traditional rituals and receiving guests like a proper lady in between) for a week, I had moved on. Or I thought I had. Maybe.

A couple months passed and before I know it, another year was starting. It was early 2020. I had the busiest day of my life because my startup was fundraising. We were at the end of negotiation with an investor we had been engaged on for several months. He had said “Yes” at the end of the previous year, but his partner could not reach consensus, so he stalled us for a couple of months. 

It was not until February 2020 that the investor suddenly decided to invest in another startup. Why wouldn’t he be? We were an educational technology, and there are more startups that could be more profitable than us and that both of them could mutually agree. He was with his wife when he said that in a casual manner, treating us in a lovely restaurant. I smiled politely and speak “Thank you for your time, it was a pleasure to meet you” softly, as my Javanese grandmother had taught me, but I was internally screaming in pain. Hanging rope had been dropped, thus spoke the executioner. That was the death of my startup, which I had started in 2018 with all the money I could save and gathered. With all the strings I had to pull until we got our first funding. With all the blood and tears I suffered while getting rejected here and there. With all my might.

With all my might.

***

I did not speak to anyone for around two months after that, constantly avoiding my friends or anybody I know. I lock myself up in the apartment, spending my days in bed, staring at the ceiling to analyze my mistakes or regretting the fact that I did not do better for my grandmother by the time she was alive. I dread the question of “How are you doing?” or “How are your startup going?”, fearing that somebody would ask me that, as they certainly would. I live in a collectivist country, after all. As I recalled, I did not weep again during that time. I simply exist, wishing I could push a red button that ends it all in an instant.

Every time I glared at the ground from the balcony of my apartment, I was tempted to jump off. At least, then the pain that was so viscerally imprinted inside of me would go away. The thought of it haunts me for days as if with my passing I could somehow persuade Death to trade them for the lives I lost, but I hated the fact that I would be written all over the news. After all, the news of any suicide in my apartment complex always end up in the news—oftentimes in over accurate details to intrigue people to talk about it. As in life and in death, I despise public attention over personal matters. After a while, I decided it was not my time. Not yet.

However, again, my life was changed in an instant.

One day you were telling your grandmother that you are building something that’s bigger than us, but the other day both left you while they depart.

I remember the day that I heard both of the news. It was quite an ordinary day, nearly dusk with pink and yellow colors radiant in the sky. It was both a beautiful day, I suppose, aside from what I heard. Joan Didion wrote something similar about the day her husband died, describing it as “the ordinary instant”. She had written poignantly about how the suddenness of it all prevents her from fully grasping the occurrence, let alone getting past it.

In an instant, someone whom I had been close to was gone, and in an instant too, my future was shattered. Dead, deceased, expired, perished. I feel like there is no word to describe how I felt at both the moment. Is it sadness? Is it sorrow? Is it something more than that? I really am not sure, because in a relatively short period of time, both of them were taken from me, and I was left with this hollow, sunken, sinking heart, that drowns itself in ocean of tears. Tears that were invisible at that time, because I was always smiling politely the way I was always taught. Tears that I had kept inside for so long, until one day it exploded.

I had no idea that grief would come like a tsunami, months later, over something as idiotic as accidentally fitting my plate into a pan which would not budge despite all of my efforts. Perhaps in my mind, subconsciously, the plate symbolically represents my uselessness and worthlessness by letting everything happened the way they all happened. I wish I could have controlled it, somehow. Perhaps I could perform rescue breath for both of them, suddenly reviving them from the clutch of Death.

But I could not. I let it happened. I had never felt so powerless in my life.

Perhaps if I had spared some time to make sense of the period following all the events, grief would not come to me in a raging waves, overwhelming me with great sadness. Perhaps sometimes a polite smile and small tears could not erase the fact that my heart was broken beyond repairs at that time. There has never been closure to my desolation. A consolation, maybe yes, but receiving condolences from guests or friends could never change the fact that my past and my future had been severed from me.

All that is alive must end, eventually, as in the natural order of circle of life. My grandmother breathed life to my father, and eventually me, who breathed life to a small company that I nurtured and fought for. Something I would gladly die for, in exchange for its life, which supposedly could change the lives of millions, if things went as I had envisioned. Alas, both of them were no more.

***

The plate somehow unstick itself, separating it from the perfectly fitted pan. I remember I had done nothing special in particular, yet the plate just set loose on itself. The waves of shock that paralyzed me for a moment was gone. Gradually, my sights returned, and all I could do was sighing.

I would not say it felt satisfying, because it did not. It was simply relief. Relief that I had onloaded something I usually concealed with a smile, witty jokes, and self-assurance of words such as “I am fine” and “I will get past this, as I always have” while in reality it was the contrary. I never know how long it would take to get past this grief, let alone finding meaning in the fragments of memories of things I did or did not do in the past. It could be days, months, years, or even decades. I no longer cared. It could take as long as it takes.  

I have come to believe grief and life are parallel. Although they represent entirely different entity, one always must anticipate when the two distinct paths converge. Because it will, somehow, sometime. No matter how ordinary the day might be. No matter if it is a beautiful or stormy day. Grief and life will eventually converge. 

However, there is a good side of grief being parallel to life. As our time on earth is finite, grief, too, is finite. 

Disclaimer: This is a delayed writing, which was supposed to be written sooner. However, I find myself unable to write for the past couple of years for some reasons.

[kickassfu]

What do you think about this?

She looked like a lost puppy.

Had it been under difference circumstances, a different girl, he’d been utterly indifferent. However, that was not the case. He knew how much he blonde meant for his brother.

Maybe it was the spite that made him turn back.

Or maybe it was pity, trying to persuade her to avoid the same mistake he made.

“Are you seriously going to go back to them?” he chastised.

She looked up, alarmed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he muttered. He had no qualm against her, not anymore. She didn’t cause his death and perhaps she learned her lesson, seeing as she perished by the same hand who had did him in, too. The very one she adamantly defended. Maybe she’d finally learn her loyalty earned her nothing. Although, the trait did earn some admiration from him.

“Don’t do it. Don’t go back.” he advised coldly. “They’ll only take advantage of you again. They destroyed you once. They’ll do it again.”

She didn’t bother rebutting.  She simply looked down in her lap and, had he forced her to look up, was certain an expression of dismay hid under her blonde locks.

“Where should I go?” She whimpered.

Enzo had tried to persuade her to leave, too, but she couldn’t fathom the thought of parting from her mom. She had hoped she survived. She borrowed a cell phone to call the hospital. It was only after a heart wrenching pause from the nurse did the news break her. She didn’t survive. Elena successfully killed the last remaining Forbes.

She should be angry. She should turn back, into town, and kill Elena, but she couldn’t muster the energy. The grief of losing her mother numbed any other sensation. It would be for nothing – the brothers had evacuated Elena just as soon as the backstabbing bitch plunged the stake into Caroline’s heart.

“Niklaus will likely avenge you,” Kol answered her thoughts. “How pitiful, when I die, he lets my murderers walk free, but for his blonde infatuation, he’ll likely reign blood on the miserably town.”

“I won’t care,” Caroline said dully. “I was so worried about my mother being hurt in the crossfire, but she’s gone now. Bonnie can hold her own. Matt… if he’s smart, he’ll finally pick up and leave. If not, that’s on him.”

“I’m sure my sister will come to his defense,” Kol remarked bitterly. “As for where to, I’d recommend Greece. It’s lovely this time of year.”

“Where are you going?” She curiously asked but not too loudly.

“Edinburgh. I know a couple of witches that owe me favors. I’ll be damned if Nik shuts me in a box for another century.” He eyes narrowed into slits. “It’s best he does not know of our resurrection. Use this opportunity to live a little, sweets. Should you breathe a word of me to him, I’ll make this second chance of yours very short.”

“Don’t worry,” she mumbled, still looking down into her lap. “I don’t care to see him. He’s done something I don’t think I’ll get past.”

“Ah, that little wolf girl, I presume. He’s a bit of a hypocrite. I figured you’d learn that soon enough if you got to live that long. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s only good for disappointment. Try that Lorenzo bloke. He seems to be a much better alternative.”

“He’s long gone,” Caroline sniffled. “He’s going to London.”

“Then go to London,” Kol advised.

“I don’t even have a passport,” Caroline stammered.

“For Fuck’s sake,” Kol growled. He stomped towards Caroline and pulled her off the bus bench. She tried to wrench her arm free, but he was significantly stronger. “Fine, I’ll get you there.”

“Why are you so insistent?” Caroline protested as he pulled her down the short flight of steps and onto the sidewalk. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because,” Kol growled. Why was he? He did not know exactly. Why would he even tell her? Damn her eyes. They all but pleaded for answers and if he was going to endure the trip with her, might as well supply her some answers. “Because I was like you and if I learned anything, might as well try to save someone else from making the same mistakes. Now let me do my one good deed for the century and stop pestering me about frivolous stuff.”

“…Okay,” she submitted. They fell into step with one another and into a heavy silence.

“Thank you,” she broke it after a while.

“You’re welcome,” came out awkwardly. He wasn’t used to this kind of exchange. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced to the blonde.

She was very pretty. He remarked once to Nik she was tasty little thing. Would it been better if he ate Caroline, if he was trying to rub it in Nik’s face? Surely, she’d taste divine, given she smelled like vanilla and strawberries. Quite the tantalizing combination. While pretty, Caroline wasn’t Kol’s type. He preferred brunettes – witchy brunettes with wit, power, and knowledge.

What about Caroline had enticed Nik to forgo everything?

Stupid question. He knew the answer immediately after he pondered the possibilities. It was her unwavering loyalty – the one thing Nik felt he never experienced. Not from his family, his allies, but to earn loyalty, he’d have to give it, and he did no such thing. Perhaps it’s best Caroline steer away from that kind of deal – she’d end up like the rest of them, bitter and short-handed.

If she lived a life Nik had promised her – but without the aid of his pesky brother… That’d be a sufficient insult to give Kol some solstice. Hell, if Nik believed his beloved Caroline was deceased was an even better alternative and then perhaps that meddlesome doppelganger and her brotherly suitors will finally earn their duly comeuppance.

Caroline could be of some benefit after all.

“Have you been out of this damned town at all?” He asked.

“Just Atlanta, to visit my dad. He’s dead, too.”

She was officially an orphan. That should dawn heavy on her, but she still feels numb. The cold of night doesn’t even bother her.

“You have a world of possibilities, Caroline. You have the advantage of being dead – no one will be looking for you. You have no ties left to ground you. You’re a vampire with endless skills.”

“I don’t know any languages.” Caroline murmured.

“They come quick, trust me,” Kol grinned. “If you’re as brilliant as my brother claims you are, being bilingual will come naturally to you.”

“Uh, thanks,” Caroline replied but nonetheless brought a smile to her face. She’d have to buy (or compel) a translation book abroad somewhere.

“Network,” Kol suggests.

“I thought being dead was an advantage – you know, no ties,” Caroline furrowed her brows together.

“Adopt a new name, something, I don’t know, but it’ll help you to network. That way if you get in trouble, you have a back-up. Somewhere to go, someone who can conjure a spell. Surely that’s well within your capabilities.” Kol clarified.

She nodded. “Audrey,” she announced.

“What?” Kol cut in.

“Aubrey, as in Audrey Hepburn. That’ll be my alias.”

She was quick. She had a strong chance of surviving, Kol surmised pleasantly.

“I have a friend who’s good at forging papers. Considering it my gift.”

“I thought this was your only good deed of the century,” she remarked. She doesn’t push it by questioning whether this person was really a ‘friend’ or an unfortunate soul who was subject to Kol’s mercy.

Regardless, the air was significantly a lot lighter.

“Don’t like a gift horse in the mouth, sweets,” Kol chastised playfully. “You could be something – do many things – and I’d like to make sure you have the necessary tools.”

“I’m not your progeny,” she combats but realizes too late what her words imply. Their steps pause.

“No, you’re not,” he affirms. His glare is cold. She shivers but it’s not the wind that has her bones rattling. “I’d like you to survive, Caroline.  First bit of advice? Learn who you’re talking to. Nik may allow your smart comments, but I won’t. Had this been any other scenario, you’d be back on the other side. Read your audience before you say something stupid. Don’t make assumptions and act in accordance. That’ll get you killed. I know you’re smart, sweets. You can’t afford to be stupid.”

She nodded slowly, suddenly aware who her companion was – and how lucky she was he wasn’t inclined to kill her in the moment when it’d be fairly easy for him.

“Good, you’re learning. Come on, we don’t have time to dally.”

They resumed walking.

“Any other advice?” She asked.

“Don’t get attached. You’ll be moving a lot. Enjoy the wanderlust but don’t situate yourself in one place for too long. People will notice and that’ll get you in trouble if you’re on someone’s radar. Despite my reputation, I am careful of what I leave behind when I’m on my own. I can count on my brothers to clean up my mess but when I’m avoiding them, as you’ll be doing, you have to be smart about feeding.”

“I don’t feed on people,” Caroline quickly interjected. “I’ve been on the receiving end and I can’t bring myself to continue the cycle.”

“How droll,” Kol remarked, “but understandable. However, I don’t think you’ll be seeing that way for long. As your existence continues, you’ll learn to adapt, and certain values will not survive. Try as you will but prepare for changes in the way you think… and feed.”

“Next,” Caroline demanded. The subject was sensitive. Kol shot her a look. “You said time was of the essence,” she remarked. He rolled his eyes.

“Cut old ties. That’s self-explanatory.”

She nodded.

“Scatter your resources. Don’t have it all in one place. When you need to evade someone, or evacuate, you’ll have something already prepared rather than wasting precious time trying to collect what you need. Line up properties under different names, have different accounts, so forth.”

“Next,” she motioned.

“Never meet someone directly. Send an envoy ahead of time to gauge the risk. Reconnaissance is key. The less they know, the better. By the time you realize what you’re up against, they won’t have the advantage of surprise and you can high tail it out of there.”

“Did you give Katherine some personal pointers?” Caroline teased. Kol shook his head.

“Never met her but if you follow her footsteps, aside from getting mixed up with those impotent Salvatore’s, you’ll be in fit shape. Her endurance is impressive. Her choice in men, not so much.”

Caroline had to chuckle at that remark and Kol grinned, happy he had amused her.

“Where are places I should avoid?” Caroline inquired. “Somewhere Klaus, or anyone I should steer clear of, would frequent?”

She was clever. No wonder Nik was intrigued.

“Rural England will not help you. My brother owns many castles and estates. Same can be said about Scotland. Ireland, however, was a heathen state in my time and I doubt much has changed. Should you venture there, you’ll find plenty of havens. However, populated cities like London or Edinburgh will be harder to find people in, and grant you some protection, but don’t bade your time in the crowds. My brother is persistent, and he has many networks.”

“Noted. Any others?”

“Africa is a good place to visit. That’d be my expertise. Languages are very diverse, and the landscape is sprawling. I’d advise you find Africa to be a better alternative than the Americas. My brothers are fluent and have many properties on the coasts. Peru, Spain, Brazil, so forth. However, if you want to taste the culture, the smaller countries like Honduras or Panama are fair bets. Start small and work up.”

“What about Asia?”

“You’d stick out like a sore thumb in Japan. Try China. Not Beijing though.  China has many different dialects and too many cities to count. You have better odds venturing there than the small island. Elijah has profits in the Philippines. I wouldn’t risk going there.  The Middle East is free range for you but be weary in Istanbul. India is another place I’d recommend you venture to if you want something in that part of the world.”

“So, big cities except Beijing. Africa over the Americas. Middle East but avoid Istanbul.”

“Very good,” Kol affirmed.

“So… are we going to walk all the way to the airport or are we going to hitchhike?” Caroline pondered.

“Where’s the nearest one?” Kol scowled. He didn’t think that one through.

“Richmond.” Caroline replied. “That’s about forty minutes away from here by car.”

“Looks like we’re running,” Kol smiled. Caroline only had a moment to grasp before everything became a blur.

BREAK

They eventually hitchhiked. Caroline managed to heal the driver before Kol completely drained him but at least they made it to their destination. She didn’t know how he did it but with stolen passports (and compelling the agent that the adolescent looking vampires fit the description of two sixty-something adults) and a wad of cash Caroline didn’t know Kol had procured, they waited another hour until the next flight to Edinburgh.

“Here,” he forced a couple of hundreds in her hand. “That’s for the train fare. It’ll take you to London.”

“I think you gave me more than enough!” Caroline grumbled in disbelief. She quickly counted the bills and gaped at Kol once she came to a total. “This is too much, Kol! Do you know how much you gave me?” She hushed her tone, aware they weren’t alone. “Seven thousand dollars!”

“That’ll get you a new wardrobe, then,” he shrugged. “Consider it my gift.”

“That’d be your third, counting the fake name and all.”

“Ah, thanks for reminding me. My buddy has is in the works. Audrey Hepburn, right?”

“Wait, actually Audrey Hepburn? Yeah, like that won’t go unnoticed!”

“Why?”

“It’s the name of a famous actress! She’s one of my favorites, which is why I chose Audrey! I didn’t think you’d give me her last name, too.”

“Ah, that explains his reaction,” he smirked. “No need to fret. I’m sure he has other Audrey’s lined up in his collection of identities.”

Caroline groaned and reclined back in defeat.

“Thanks,” she turned to Kol, genuine in her words. She realized the amount in her hand and had almost forgotten to show her appreciation.

“Can you do me a favor in return?” Kol queried.

After all he had done, she felt obligated. “Of course.”

“Live to the fullest. Don’t crawl into Nik’s arms. He’ll drain you. Should you catch wind of him, run like hell in the opposite direction. Don’t exert yourself if it’s not possible but if you have a chance, do give me heads up, too. How does it go? Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours?”

“It’s the least I can do,” she assures.

“Thank you,” Kol nods.

“Also,” he adds. Her ears perk. “That Lorenzo bloke seems infatuated with you. Don’t deny yourself some pleasures. He has enough sense to skip town. There’s potential in him. Perhaps pursue some sort of dalliance with him. I don’t see why it would hurt. Could be a decent enough distraction for you or perhaps evolve into more? Take more chances, Caroline.”

“Who knew the fearsome Kol Mikaelson could play cupid?” she teased.

He smirked. “In the matters of pleasure, I do my best.”

“I’m curious,” Caroline spoke. “If you really want to get back at your brother, you could have killed me, or slept with me. Either would have enraged him. Why not go that route?”

“Well,” Kol answered in a hum, “I could have killed you but that wouldn’t have given me much satisfaction. He already thinks you’re dead. That’s good enough for me. I can be merciful once in a while,” he shot her a look. She smiled tightly. “Secondly, while you’re a tasty little thing, I’d rather not deal with the aftermath. The sooner I send you on your way, out of my brother’s reach, the better. Worst case scenario, I can also say I did sleep with you, and knowing him, he’d believe it because he lets his insecurities get the better of him.”

“I should be insulted but who am I to argue?” Caroline grumbled.

“Atta girl,” Kol chipped.

The flight is quiet. She takes the time to sleep. However, nightmares consume her conscience and she wakes up in tears. Her mom is dead. She’s all alone. She has nowhere and everywhere to go. Her friends betrayed her. It’s overwhelming.

“Darling,” Kol interjects quietly. She listens intently.

“I’ve come to terms a long time ago I was expendable to my family. Whenever I became a bother, they’d box me up, and if I escaped their claws, they’d drag me back because they have to be in control. I was excluded to the whole ‘forever and always’ spiel that bonded the rest of them. Finn and I weren’t a part of that and we’d spend the rest of our lives knowing we’ve been cheated.”

“I can tell you’re in denial but from my box, I can see you’re in the same bind. You’re expendable to your friends. You’re bound by nature to help but they are undeserving. You need to be selfish. You’ll be villainized for it but to truly live, you got to break from your bondage and accept that you’re going to be branded a certain way.

As for your parents, they are gone. It’s tough to swallow but there is no remedy for the aches you’ll feel. My parents weren’t saints. I did not mourn them. However, a long, long time ago, I mourned for what could have been. That ship sailed a long time ago and thinking on the impossible will not do you any good. Accept you’re on your own. There is no one behind you and no one waiting for you.”

“Any more wisdom?” She croaks. She’s tired and her face is still red.

He turns to look at her and offers a grim smile. “Live to spite everyone that ever doubted you.”

Wasn’t that her motto? When someone told her she couldn’t do something, she’d prove them wrong? She smiled, appreciating his words.

“Thank you,” she sniffled.

“Don’t disappoint me, darling.”

“I’ll try,” Caroline resigned back into her seat. Her eyes fought for sleep and when she succumbed, she fell into deep blackness until conjured back to living by Kol’s persistent nudging.

“Your adventure awaits, darling.”

---

@adelindschade I am seriously tearing up...like wtf...my boy Kol, always the black sheep of the family, cut off from them all, cut out from their special little bond - alone. Caroline, always the stupid, useless girl in her friends eyes, used and thrown away, betrayed, killed, only loved by the villain of the story, who she shouldn’t love back - just as alone as Kol. And Kol knows this, understands, connects with her in a way he’s always avoided, gives her a chance to live and prosper, with sweet revenge on Klaus as a wonderful cherry on top. I wonder how they’ll meet up throughout the ages, closer than this somewhat cold conversation, friends. Maybe down the line she’ll meet up with Klaus, when she’s really lived and tasted the earth as much as she could, and is ready to deal with him. Anyway...I’m not crying, nope...

[nadineselfships-archived]

you and pap for first date?~

Ahhh I got a little carried away with this, whoops!! Thank you so much for requesting this it was super fun to write!! I write headcannons in a different format to how i normally write fics so that’s why it may be a little wierd!!

-Firstly, I didn’t realise it was a date until halfway through said date. -Papyrus showed up to my house at an ungodly time in the morning, picked me up and carried me out of the house. -(I was still in my pajamas and once he realised this he took me back so I could get changed but he picked me up and carried me out again when I was dressed.)-He refused to tell me where we were going. -He also refused to stop carrying me.-Turns out there was a carnival in town, I love carnivals and I immediately want to try out every game. -i,, suck at carnival games,,, But Papyrus is amazing at them!! He wins everytime!! It’s not fair!!-But he’s so cute when he wins, he smiles so wide and he practically sparkles,,, it’s so,,, cute,,,-We’re walking through the carnival, now eating fairy floss and stopping at stalls periodically. -At some point I grab his hand and point out a carnival game excitedly, not noticing as he gets very flustered I drag him over to the game. -it’s one where you have to hit the moving targets, if you hit them all you get a big stuffed panda. I, love, Pandas.-I shake him and give him my best puppy dog eyes, asking if I could give it a try.-He is no match for my powerful puppy dog eyes and says yes. -....-I repeat,,, I suck at carnival games,,, I sulk a little and stare sadly at the stuffed panda, it was so big and fluffy and would have been a great cuddle buddy.-Papyrus steps forward and asks to have a go, he’s very focused as he aims the toy gun at the targets. (He looks so cute when he’s focused I-)-He wins,, very easily,, makes me wonder if he cheated but I don’t have time to dwell on that as he hands me the giant stuffed panda. I squeal and hug it tightly, giving Papyrus a smooch of appreciation before taking his hand and starting to walk again.-Papyrus asks if i’d like to go get something to eat and I nod eagerly, being hungry 25/8 of the time.-We walk away from the carnival and find a small cute café, the girl at the counter compliments my stuffed panda and I tell her my amazing boyfriend won it for me.-Papyrus is a blushing mess but boasts about it being nothing for The great Papyrus. (ilovehimsomuchahh)-We order some food and sit down at a booth near a window, I place my panda beside me and pet it’s head.-Papyrus and I start talking about this and that, how Sans still won’t pick up his sock, how Alphys and Undyne are doing on their honeymoon and how my last commission went.-The food comes and it is,, delicious,, I hate eating in front of people so i’m very slow and cover my mouth with my hand self consciously. -I’m enjoying a mouthful of wonderful pasta when Papyrus out of the blue asks how i’m enjoying our date. -.... -....-DATE?! -After internally screaming I swallow my food and smile brightly, face flushed red and heart suddenly beating rapidly.-“A-ah! A lot! I’m having a lot of fun! W-what about you?”

-“NYEHHEH! OF COURSE I AM ENJOYING MYSELF, ANY TIME SPENT WITH MY DEAR GIRLFRIEND IS PRECIOUS TO ME! I HAD FUN WITH THOSE CARNIVAL GAMES, THEY WERE QUITE EASY THOUGH.” -(I loves this precious boy someone end me I can’t-)-If I knew this was a date I would have worn something a lot cuter, gosh dang it.-After I calm down and we finish our food we walk around town for a while, just talking and enjoying each others company.-We stop to admire some musicians when we notice that the cello player happens to be a familiar short skeleton. -What the hell Sans. -Since when could he play the cello what--He winked at both of us as the tune turned into something more soft and romantic, couples around us started dancing together in the street and I felt my face flush. -Papyrus clears his throat to get my attention and when I turn to him he has his hand outstretched to me, a sheepish smile on his face.-“M-MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?” -....-SDKJHFALJHFLHFAASLKHFJLFH-“y-yes! I-i mean, y-you may.”-I set my stuffed Panda down next to Sans and tell him if anything happens to it he will perish. -I take his hand and he gently pulls me closer, placing his other hand on my waist. -I’m dying. I’m dead. I’m deceased. I cannot.-He holds me so delicately, swaying and spinning me with such care; I laugh joyously as he dips me.-i gently fall into his chest when he lifts me back up, I grin widely up at him and he smiles adoringly down at me. -I’m taken by surprise when he swoops down and kisses me softly, my eyes flutter closed and I kiss back just as tenderly.-The music fades away in the background and I wrap my arms around his neck, enjoying the intimate embrace. -The moment’s ruined by a sharp whistle and a, “go paps!”. -What,, the hell Sans,,,-Papyrus and I move apart with flushed faces, Papyrus yells at Sans for ruining the moment and Sans gives a half assed apology. -Also Sans randomly being in the street with a band playing the cello was totally planned as Sans tells me months after this event. -As we leave I realise how quickly the day has passed, it’s getting later into the evening now and the sky begins to turn hues of pink and purple. -I admire the sky and point up at it so Papyrus would look to.-“Isn’t it beautiful?” -“... Yes. Very beautiful.”-(cliché ‘he’s looking at me not the sky moment’.)-We go back to his house and OH MY GOSH THERE’S A PILLOW FORT.-I don’t even wait for him to close the door before I dive inside the cute pillow fort. -“PAPS THIS IS AMAZING, YOUR AMAZING, I LOVE YOU.” -... oh I just told him I loved him for the first time that’s something.-It is something and it is something that nearly made Papyrus fall over.“O-OF COURSE! NOTHING B-BUT THE BEST FOR MY DEAR GIRLFIREND! I-I LOVE YOU TOO!” -now it is my turn to fall over, except i’m laying down. I mentally fell over. -(we are big giant dorks, he’s a bigger dork tho and I love him.)-(he loves me too aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-)-ANYWAY,,,-Papyrus has a bunch of movies he borrowed from Alphys and Undyne, Alpyhs gave him some ghibli movies and Undyne gave him horror movies. Because horror movies are obviously date appropriate.-Also Papyrus had been playing this date for a long time, like three months. He’s a dork.-We snuggle up under a bunch of blankets, Papyrus brought a heck ton of snacks and popcorn so we won’t have to go to the kitchen and leave our comfy fort. We cuddle up to each other as the first movie plays.-we don’t pay a lot of attention to the first one, we’re talking about the day, laughing and nuzzling each other and just enjoying the present closeness. -When the movie ends neither one of us really want to get up to put in the next one.-He tries to get up but I whine and wrap my arms around his waist, nuzzling my head into his neck. -Flustered Papyrus is Flustered.-Papyrus gives up on changing the movie and wraps his arms around me, content to cuddle me for the rest of the night if that’s what I wanted. -I do end up falling asleep in Papyrus’ arms at some point and Papyrus picks me up and takes me to his bed. -He lays down next to me and pulls the blanket over the both of us, he kisses my forehead softly before wrapping his arms around me again.-In conclusion, a wonderful first date.

Thank you again for requesting this!! ^^ I love Papy so much

[imagine-loki]

Across the Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Fifteen AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market. RATING: Teen and Up

Odin stared at the bed in front of him and the small being that inhabited it. He had gone to the mines, he had seen the terribly under cared for of the realm, but he had seen nothing like the creature in front of him. He went to Alfheim when it was revealed there was a terrible famine on the outskirts of the land, an island whose only method to the mainland was by sea travel, but a winter of storms meant none could travel, by the end of it, most everyone had perished from lack of food. The King of Alfheim had called on him to go with him to the island, the starved were deceased with more flesh than the small woman in front of him, somehow clasping to life in the bed. "Her family have all perished?"

"Immediate only, her aunt and uncle are the reason she is as she is now apparently," Frigga answered from beside him, looking at the girl also.

Odin inhaled and shook his head. Frigga had a brother on Vanaheim, a pain of a man if he was honest, but he had a daughter and were it to pass that she came to their care, she would want for nothing, he would ensure it. Looking at the girl in front of him, there was perhaps an argument that death would have been kinder to her. "She seems surreal."

"I know."

"And this is Loki's link to the common people?"

"Apparently she is the one that told Loki of the mine collapse, her brother was in it," Frigga informed him.

"And the schools, healthcare?"

"Her also."

"How…?"

"He snuck out, every market day."

"You would think the guards would have noticed him," Odin growled, displeased with the lax manner the guards performed their duties.

"They would have if Prince Loki passed them, but he did not." Odin looked to his wife. "A boy with her hair colour and more tanned skin walked by them, not a tall boy of pale skin and black hair."

"Norn's, you had to teach him seidr." Odin groaned. "He will be dangerous with that in the future."

"That is for Asgard's enemies to worry about." Odin had to agree with his wife. "How angry are you?"

"For his going to the markets, I am not, if I could have snuck passed my father's guards, I would have done the exact same thing. For using such magic, I am somewhat annoyed, he should have alerted you to his abilities for his own safety, but for his knowing all of this and fibbing and lying as to how he know, for that I want to tan his hide."

Frigga smiled, Odin had never raised a hand to either of their sons, and though they were not perfect, they were good; she knew he was irked at Loki's lying, but so too did she know that he understood the reasons behind Loki's lies. "We better let her rest," she stated, placing her hand on Odin's shoulder to coax him out.

"The girl." She halted and looked at him. "Loki is attached to her?"

"I believe Loki to care for her very deeply."

"What is her name?"

"Ariella, he calls her Ari."

"I like it." Odin gave a small smile at the name. "Her chances?" Frigga did not answer. "That bad?"

"Eir is trying to understand how she is still alive."

"Sometimes it is the smallest pup has the greatest fight," Odin commented. He turned and walked out of the healing rooms when he came to a pairing of guards that were patrolling and not in sentry positions, he ordered them to find his younger son, that he required him and his expertise immediately, the guards nodded and immediately set about doing as asked.

"Are you going to tell him you know of Ariella?" Frigga inquired.

"I believe he will tell me himself when the time is right," Odin stated. "For now, the only thing he needs to worry about is sorting this farce of a situation."

*

Loki rushed through the halls to his father, as the head of all things commoner related, he knew he would be called on by his father for updates and whatnot, but he was in the middle of readying his report and subsequent changes to include quality of life to the basic needs of poorer citizens, especially those who required care. The report was in his grasp as though life itself depended on it as he made his way to his father's private study. Knocking on the door, he waited.

"Enter," Immediately, he did as told. Looking around, Loki was somewhat confused as to why his father alone was in the room and none other. "Good, you came quickly." He nodded as his son stood watching him. "I had Lord Ivan come to me this morning, telling me to put a rein on you." Loki's lip twitched slightly in contempt, "he tells me you cannot be reasoned with, that you will not yield to any demand. Is this true?"

"Yes," Loki confirmed. "Because there is no other option."

"What if the demands you made are unreasonable, what if they are not what is best for the people, will you listen to reason?"

"If any could argue that what I seek is not for the best of others and explain to me why, I will be the first to listen, but the only reason I am being argued with is because the Lords are greedy and do not like the idea that peasants and uneducated people would be given the ability to be educated for fear that they will soon realise there are more of them than there ever is soldier, guard or Lord, and that makes them fear for their safety, because they know how badly they have mistreated the poor, overcharging them for basic food, water and shelter, and they know that should things change, they will be the ones to bear the brunt of it, though Ivan could do with less fine dining, he is at risk of being as round as he is tall."

Odin nodded, "Most definitely."

"Can I asked why you called me here?"

"Are you busy?"

"Yes, actually." Loki made a movement that brought Odin's focus to his hand and the report in it.

"I wanted to talk to you regarding whether you were being as unreasonably stubborn as I was being told you were, or if you were being forced to fight your corner ardently in a hostile environment."

"The latter."

"Yes, I agree." Odin conceded. "What is that?" He indicated to the report in Loki's hand.

"A law I am going to see if I can have altered."

"Is it ready?" Odin asked, going to his study table to offer Loki to show him.

"No," Loki stepped forward, opening it in front of his father, "I want to make it iron clad, no loopholes, I want to make it as strong as possible." He explained.

Odin skimmed its contents. "Orphans."

"Some of the weakest and most vulnerable people in all of Asgard, the laws regarding them are so flimsy, too weak to ever be brought to a court should neglect take place."

"An odd first order of business," Odin noted, Loki looked at him, half expecting his father to dismiss it. "An integral piece to have cleaned up, but not one many would ever consider, much less make a top priority."

"I have been made aware of some horrific side effects of such laws being so weak, I have to rectify it."

"I agree."

"You are doing that a lot with me today," Loki stated suspiciously, looking at his father as though expecting him to begin to dismiss him and his work.

"I spent so long thinking that you and Thor should be identical, on the battlefield and off. Of late, perhaps because of my aging less than gracefully," Loki chuckled at his father's joke, "I realised I was fighting a losing battle, you and Thor, you are nothing alike, he is a warrior, brutish yet personable, you are more like an assassin, you are as deadly, if not more so than your brother, but you are better hidden in the background, watching, calculating your moves, you do not do as well in a room with others, and though I thought it integral, I see with you, it means you get to know what so many of us only wish we could know. Giving you this task, I thought you would thrive, I really did, but you surpass all expectation." Odin grasped his son's shoulder and smiled. "You are doing well Loki, whatever it is in you to think so much of those less fortunate, it must be tended to and cared for so greatly."

Loki swallowed, his father's praise was completely unexpected, as was his reasons for his recent good humour and encouragement towards him. He thought for a second about telling him about Ariella but thought not to at that time, it would take too long to explain and he wanted to ensure his wording for his amendment was right, he swore to himself he would tell his father as soon as Ariella was a little stronger. "Thank you, Father."

Odin noticed the conflict in Loki's eyes. "Is there something that you wish to tell me?"

"No, I just am eager to get this finished, with that done, I can speak with you more," Loki explained.

"Very well, go and do it so and do not let me bother you." Odin encouraged, realising that indeed Loki would tell him his secret in due course. He knew to force Loki to admit it would not work, nor would in build trust with his son, who seemed to finally have a sense of purpose. "Your humour was so dour for a while, I am glad to see you are taking to your responsibilities so seriously, it has brought new life to you."

Loki gave a small nod and left. "Darling." He turned to see his mother coming down the hallway, "How is your day going?"

"Fine." Loki was somewhat unsettled.

"Loki, I know you are anxious to return to her, but you need to do your day's work also."

"I am trying." he explained, his hands once more twitching around the work he had done.

"I see," His mother stated understandingly. "I will let you get on with it so." Loki nodded in gratitude and made to go back to his rooms. "I went to check on her again as I was passing the healing rooms," He turned to face his mother, "She is after another feed and is taking it well it would appear."

"Good, thank you, Mother."

"Anytime my love." She smiled before making her way into her husband's study. "Well?"

"He is willing to tell me I think, but he is obsessed with getting the adequate legislation altered first."

"That will take some work."

"Loki is the only one I think will outlast them all. The lords are stubborn, but Loki puts all to shame."

"I wonder who he got that from." Frigga smiled.

"To be honest, I think he has both of our stubbornness combined."

"The poor souls that have to suffer him."

"Why do you think I chose them? They will soon learn not everyone can be bought." Odin grinned proudly at how his plans to make some overly useless lords realise they were not as powerful as they thought came to fruition as his son got what he wished from the arrangement also. Odin was usually the first to condemn nepotism, but on this occasion, it very much was an all-win situation for the people of Asgard, and that mattered more than anything else.

*

Satisfied with his work, Loki placed his request with his father's work to allow his father give it the consent to be forwarded to court, he suspected his father would not only read over it to assist if possible, but with his comments that afternoon, Loki suspected that there would be no issue from his father regarding its content.

With his work done, he knew his next port of call should be to get something to eat, but all he could think of was Ariella, so rather than taking the stairwell to the dining hall, he rushed to the healing ward instead. On entering, he watched as Eir personally placed food through the tube for Ariella to eat and stay with her until she was satisfied the food was in her stomach, he then witnessed the healer change her position to ensure her body was not feeling too much pressure on the same spots for too long before she turned to face him, her face telling him she was unsurprised to see him there. "How is she?"

"She is accepting the food, it seems, I cannot tell for sure until we start seeing the benefits of it." Loki came forward, looking hopefully at his friend. "It is still a very long path of recovery, but she may make nightfall now."

"If she makes it through the night?"

"Then her chances will increase exponentially," the healer smiled. "The first seventy-two hours are the hardest because she will have to process the food fully for us to know what way it will be."

"And because of her state, it is taking the food longer to process?"

"Because the food is so nutrient rich and small in size, we anticipate the first few feedings to be absorbed in their entirety."

"And so far?"

"This is the fifth one and she has not declined any further."

"Good, good." Loki nodded, not wanting to get his hopes up.

"You have done so much for this girl, you have saved her life."

Loki said nothing for a few moments, "Not yet, I have not." Eir frowned at him, what good is keeping her alive if all that is going to happen is for history to repeat itself?"

"Well, my abilities lie in healing the ill; you, if I am hearing correctly, it is you that holds the power to alter laws," She smiled.

"I can only do so much."

"Look what you have done so far; to Ariella, you have changed the world, now to the world, you can change it all."

Not fully understanding what Eir was saying, Loki gave Ariella a small smile, "Can I sit with her for a few moments?"

"You know the rules," Eir stated firmly, Loki nodded and went over beside the bed. "Ari, I am doing everything I can. I am so scared that it will not enough." He admitted. "What if I fail you?" he asked fearfully. "I am so frightened that this will all be for nought, please Ari, I can only fight it if I have you to fight with me, you are the reason I have done everything so far."

He was about to say more when he realised Eir was back in the room. He looked to her and he became fearful. "Prince Thor is looking for you, he says it is urgent."

Loki rushed from the room, not wanting Thor around Ariella, he found his brother only a hallway away. "What is afoot?"

"Loki, Father has given consent for your alterations to be made to the laws," Thor explained desperately.

"That is a good thing."

"The lords are going to deny it."

"Oh what grounds, it affects them in no way."

"To have you leave the position. Ivan is going around getting them to follow him, he is saying that you are going to ruin their livelihoods if you are left at it. He cannot expel you, but he thinks that if he gets you to fail on your basic law changes, that you will become disheartened."

Loki growled to himself, his thoughts racing as he tried to think through everything. "Thor, I need your help." Loki was surprised he even could ask.

Thor seemed twice as stunned before he shook himself slightly and answered. "Of course brother, what can I do?"

In all honesty, if, when he was younger, Loki encountered an older version of himself saying that he would one day be begging for Thor to help him as he was about to that day, he would have scoffed, but here he stood, about to do just that.

[tomerasange]

Chapter 1: The Meeting of the Companions

As I looked over the scene of the tavern, the tables were occupied by many parties who had sought shelter from the heat of the low afternoon. Merchants and bards who took their earnings to reward, lovers entreating beyond the watchful eye of guardians, warriors come from the wilds or the front to swap stories. The stew of denizens made for quite the sight, and made finding my employer more difficult than expected.

I crossed the floor, inspiring leering eyes from these patrons at the bar including the bartender. Clearly, a Nobleman was not a common sight even in this establishment, never mind an Air Genasi. I tossed my hair in a civil manner, and found my way to the backroom. Here, I came face to face with several tables discussing the financial transactions and matters of security that my tales of adventuring often spoke of in great length. My cloak trailed behind with a soft lift as I found a table being occupied by a young woman roughly my age. She was adorned in finery of black fabric, with hair as stunningly white as my skin and dark purple scales as deep as the night sky in winter. She was certainly of the adventuring sort, and seemed to be a Yuan-Ti bearing the side of Human appearances, reading from a tome to pass the time before our employer arrives. I sat upon a stool and introduced myself.

“Salutations. I don’t suppose you’re working the Phandalin delivery.” “Aye, I am working that job.” Her accent was reminiscent of mine, perhaps a Northerner as well “Excellent! I’m in the same boat. Don’t suppose you’ve seen the fellow who’s paying us.” “Well now, I don’t believe I have.” “Ah, well. Perhaps I can bend your ear a tad. Pass the time while others arrive? Round of Dragonchess?” “I’m quite predisposed, thank you.” “By any chance, are you a Yuan-Ti? I’ve never seen one in my travels.” Her expression flared. “I am a Spellscale. Draconic in nature. You would be wise to never make this mistake again.”

I resigned myself to silence with a “very well” and a nod, and rummaged through my pack for a book of my own. In time, we were joined by several others for the job. In total, these were my fellow travelers.

AURORA, the Spellscale Bard, who was a member of the Feather’s Weave, a legendary guild of artisans and adventurers known for the crafting of the garbs of warriors sung throughout time (note: be ready to make friends with Aurora, as it is clear she will be most helpful in designing new apparel for my tour).

URNIG, an Aasimar Sorcerer, who despite being born of divine nature looked like a feral beast in his ragged appearance. He was the most giant of us all, carving a shadow that dwarfed my physical form.

STARR, a mountain of a Human whose fighting prowess need only be shown in his weapon of choice, a sword more block of metal than blade.

NOAH, a young Human who had an affinity for husbandry but sought out fame in his age as a Fighter.

As the hour was at hand, a burly Dwarf fellow came about our table and introduced himself as the employ. Doing a headcount, he noticed one of our group was absent, but set on to explanation, stating they were given enough time.

He introduced his name as Gundren Rockseeker, a fellow who knew the road to Phandalin well, but requested escort following a series of reports that the path was becoming dangerous. He and another gentleman named Sildar Hallwinter would ride ahead to give scouting, and we would protect the goods wagon from attackers. We would set out in the morning for Phandalin, and upon arrival, we would be paid for our services. I retired to my room gratefully paid by our generous benefactors, and awaited the dawn.

The morn brought a wagon awaiting on the outskirts of Neverwinter, and Gundren and Sildar had already departed. I awoke to a sense of preparation, as my attire for combat had been laid out on a chair the night prior. I adorned my leather armor in exchange for my fineries in front of a mirror, placed the rapier I had purchased prior to my tour at my side, secured the two hand axes (gifts my father presented me from a far-off land, adorned with feathering and inlays), and held aloft the bow and quiver which had given me much in the way of fortune. Finally, I grabbed a small buckler embellished with the light blue of the Sange coat-of-arms. I had trusted it to protect me in a situation of peril, but had never really found use for aside from creating the appearance of legitimacy in combat. Altogether, I looked like I was being sent into battle for the first time in years.

We set off at the quick, Noah on the reins. Urnig guarded the inventory, Starr held back some length to cover the rear, and Aurora was scouting out the trail by eyesight. In addition, a sixth man joined us by the name of Snafu, who cowled himself in mystery with a robe and hood. For my part, I was tasked with a similar role as Aurora, but I found the light sun and fresh air did wonders to lull me into comfort. As though I were in the chambers of my home’s parlor, winter drifting outside and fire lit, the light fumes of the wood smoke dispersed high into the ceiling, so as to not choke our pores, with the dulcet tones of a bardsong in the corner. I sidled next to Noah in front and drifted off to sleep, in hopes the ride would be easy.

I awoke when the wagon came to a halt in the road. Aurora and Noah noted a blockage ahead, and I rose to perhaps help in levitating this obstruction. Only then did it become clear this had been no accident. Two horses lay dead in the road, and by confirmation, we deduced these were the colts belonging to Gundren and Sildar. From the sides, I heard noises. An ambush! I drew my bow and fired into the shrubs. A miss, as the arrow lodged into the ground. I cried out, “That was a warning shot!”, so as to save face in front of my fellow men.

Our attackers showed themselves with my cry. Goblin fighters from all about, left to right and center. Our companions drew their weaponry. Aurora grabbed a harp embellished in the front with a fish motif, Noah his sword, Urnig a well of mana, and Snafu... proceeded to walk with purpose. I leapt deftly to the air, summoning another arrow to my bow. As one of the goblins ran towards me, I calmed myself and let loose without hesitation, stringing the foul beast. The goblin was hardy in stature and continued to track towards Aurora. The field soon descended in a chaotic state, as Urnig wielded a lure of lightning, hooking and pulling a goblin to their demise. Noah began to fear for the safety of the wagon and steered the now spooked horses to the side. As I reared my head, I could see a goblin strike Aurora, who had drawn her rapier in turn. The thought ran through my mind. I cannot allow her to perish. Think of the garments! I dashed to her aid, and with a pirouette stabbed upwards into the goblin, dead on the ground.

As I helped Aurora to her feet, another goblin, seemingly entranced to our cart, gently walked towards the supplies (I later found out this goblin was charmed by Snafu). Without this knowledge, I could not allow the cargo to be compromised, and gutted the goblin. I paused and looked on in shock as Urnig began more evisceration, summoning the might of a thunderstorm to violently burn what was left of the goblins. Starr, having joined the battle, began to slam his sword into goblins with instant carnage. What have I gotten myself into? Surely, I enjoyed the spirit of battle as a Fighter, but these brutes had shown a form of combat that was neither graceful nor dignified.

As the goblins lay deceased, I took a tally of the scene. As my companions scoured the corpses like vultures, I only felt inclined to join. As I went towards the corpse of a young goblin, a sense of bile arose. The sanguine humor caught my nose, and I recoiled. Realizing this was barbaric, I dusted my hands and only congratulated my party before escaping to safety.

It became clear enough we had to find and retrieve Gundren and Sildar with the utmost haste. If not for their safety, then our payment. We hid the wagon and ventured forth, as the sun hung high in the air.

Amidst the tree cover, I took lead searching for the goblin nest. I inspected the surrounding area. Suddenly, I caught a whiff of a disturbance in the nearby area. Under my training, I had remember that malleable dirt, freshly dug, had an aroma not unlike a raw mushroom. Thinking back to the days when I would wander my manor’s many rooms, I distinctly recalled the raw mushroom from a storage cupboard, and realized there was a hole which had been hastily dug into the face of a cliff. As my companions tore open the hole, I began to feel a sense of dread. This was further than I had ever journeyed into the heart of battle, and whatever lay beyond would likely be my most vigorous challenge yet.

[littlemissonewhoisall]

Justice League Elite: Rebirth: Chapter One

Second Chances Part 1

The interrogation room was much the same as every one that Nathan had ever seen. It was dark, with a single light shining down to illuminate him and the table at which he sat. He’d never been sure what the point of it was. Maybe it was an attempt to intimidate him, but these guys should have known what he’d gone up against, and how little a bit of ambiance would frighten him. He tapped his foot impatiently. They’d brought him here two hours ago, and refused to explain why. No matter how many times that he told that he’d gone straight, they didn’t even acknowledge his words.

Finally, a tall, thin white man with receding brown hair and a pair of shades that looked straight out of a spy movie walked up and sat down across from him.

“About damn time,” Nathan said, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten I was here.”

The man didn’t seem phased by his rudeness. “Mister Jones,” he said, “I just flew in from Washington to speak with you. I’m just as unhappy about these circumstances as you are.”

“Really? Because as far as I can tell, I’m the only one in handcuffs.”

There was a pause, and the man lowered his shades to peer at Nathan’s wrists. Then he put a hand to his earpiece. “Sage,” he said, “I don’t remember authorizing you to put metagene-dampeners on Mr. Jones here.” He sighed. “Release the restraints, Sage. If I gave a shit about your opinion I’d ask for it. No, I don’t give a shit, now open them!” There was a click, and the cuffs snapped open. The agent turned back to Nathan. “My apologies, my second’s a bit of an idiot.” He forced a smile. “Let’s start over. My name is Agent Masters, I’m with A.R.G.U.S.”

Ah, that explained it. A.R.G.U.S., the United States’ metahuman monitoring division. A friend had once told him that it was named after a monster with eyes everywhere, which seemed appropriate.

“You see,” Masters continued, “Mr. Jones, you may realize that we have a bit of a problem here. Now, it’s not that we think you’ve gone back to a life of crime. We’re actually quite impressed with how well you’ve been doing for yourself. Especially well considering that you died four years ago.”

Nathan didn’t speak, he just glared at the man with his one good eye.

“I know your kind tend to be particularly stubborn when it comes to death, of course. Even so, your presence here is an anomaly, and one that interests A.R.G.U.S. immensely.” He sat back in his chair, and put his hand to his earpiece again. “Sage, roll the tapes.”

A projector flared to life, showing a newscaster speaking in front of a photograph of a huge explosion. “-no civilian casualties,” he was saying, “thanks to the intervention of the Justice League, and the United Nations metahuman task force known as the Elite. We have received reports, as yet unconfirmed, that all but two of the Elite perished in the blast, including suspect Manchester Black’s sister, Vera Lynn. Black himself remains at large.”

The video paused, and Masters pointed to a scroll of text indicating the names of the deceased and read it out loud. “Sonja Cortés. Vera Lynn Black. ‘Manitou Dawn’. Kasumi Kane. Nathan Craig Jones. So, can you tell me exactly how you went from being dead in London to nearly unscathed in California? I’m sure it’s an interesting story.”

“Not one you’d believe,” Nathan said.

“Try me, kid. I’ve seen some weird shit.”

Nathan threw up his arms in mock resignation. “Okay, man. But I warned you. First, you need to know what really happened in London. Manchester Black had hijacked the tech of some alien drug dealer called Aftermath to discover a wall that surrounds all of reality. In it he found some machine called the Worlogog, which he used to create a newborn god. He then planned to use that god to turn London into a living hell where people went rapid and started slaughtering each other. Think he wanted to prove some sort of point. Anyways, he went through with it, tricked Superman into killing hundreds of civilians in the process too. But Vera was able to hijack control of the Worlogog-god and make it undo everything before it destroyed itself.”

Masters was silent for a long moment. “I see. Well, assuming how I believe this story, how the hell does it explain how you, a dead man, are here today?”

“That’s the thing,” Nathan explained, “in addition to undoing what Manchester did, Vera had the god make everyone think the Elite had died with it. She wanted a fresh start, the team was falling apart and we were at risk of being arrested for going against orders. The only team members who were excluded were Flash and Green Arrow, cause they were too public, and weren’t under suspicion to begin with, plus Major Disaster, since he’d quit.”

Masters nodded. “Alright then. And where are the rest of your team?”

Nathan was silent.

“Mr. Jones, we appreciate your cooperation so far, but it is a matter of national security that we know where your teammates are.”

“I… I don’t know.” It was mostly true. “We went our separate ways soon after.”

Masters nodded, looked behind him. “That sound right to you?”

A man stepped from the darkness, and Nathan almost jumped from his seat in shock. He was a middle-aged Arabian man, tall and stern of face, looking no older than he had four years before. His name was Naif al-Sheikh, and he’d been the U.N. overseer for the Elite. “Yes,” he said, “it all lines up with what I knew about the operation. Mr. Jones is telling the truth.”

“What’s going on here?” Nathan asked.

Al-Shiekh looked to Masters, who nodded. “The United Nations and the United States Department of Homeland Security wish to reform the Elite.”

Nathan laughed. “After how it turned out last time? You’re crazy! There’s a reason we split up, man. Nobody trusted each other, it was a mess!”

“Which is why we’re selecting the team members more carefully this time,” al-Sheikh said. “Replacing the more… shall we say, problematic members with those we believe to be more reliable.”

“And me?”

“We are asking that you return to the team, if you are willing.”

Nathan thought for a long time. It was a tempting offer. Nothing about his current life was as exciting as it had been when he was a superhero. But at the same time, that life had been less satisfying than he’d anticipated. His new job was a lot less dangerous, but it paid well, and he enjoyed it. “I don’t think so.”

“A shame,” al-Sheikh said, “we’d have liked to have someone with your talents onboard. But I understand your choice.”

Masters sighed. “Well, glad to get the story at least. Agent Sage will show you out. Feel free to hit him if he gets too uppity, I don’t let him carry a gun.”

“Y’all are the weirdest feds I’ve ever met, you know that?”

He laughed. “Please, you should meet A.P.E.S.! Those guys are nuts!” He walked to the light switch and flipped it on. “Have a good day Mr. Jones. And if you ever change your mind… A.R.G.U.S. is watching.”

“Right.” Which old team members were they bringing back in, Nathan wondered, and more importantly, who were they going to replace the old ones with?

Agent Masters sighed. “He turned us down, same as Booker.”

“Not to worry,” al-Sheikh said, “she won’t say no.”

“How can you be so sure? We’ve convinced zero-out-of-two so far.”

“I know Vera Lynn Black, agent. She will have been waiting for us to call her, that I am certain of. This new recruit of yours, though, I do wonder if he can cut it. The battlefield is no place for children.”

Masters reached for a file on his desk. “Read through it if you aren’t convinced. He’s a perfect fit.” He held it up to al-Sheikh. It was a plain manilla folder, save for the two labels on it’s front. The first simply read “CLASSIFIED”. The second, in smaller letters, said “Hawke, Connor”.