#the steps i have to take to help myself are treacherous and i feel terrible for having been in this stagnation for 2+ years

[seraphim-soulmate]

Oh No. I don't think I like who I've become. Oh Fuck.

[corpsedaydream]

crash

so, here i am with a new one shot.

so before anyone asks if i’m gonna be posting frequently again or anything, i process things by writing about them. if something is running through my mind over and over and i can’t think through it on my own in my mind, writing about it generally helps me. this past weekend was supposed to be a fun long weekend away w my friends but it quickly ended when i experienced something pretty traumatic. i haven’t been able to sleep at all the past couple nights and so i started working on this. originally it was just going to be something private to help myself w the panic i was feeling then i started adding a muse into it and then i realised i was still writing about corpse without even meaning to, so i guess he’s still got me feeling musey.

anyway, i thought about keeping this private bc i’m still rly shaken up about what happened but idk feels like a shame to just let it sit on my computer.

idk if i’m back to this blog yet, i still feel indifferent about it. i’m signed out on my phone and was signed out on my laptop until just now and haven’t opened my inbox.

anyway. here’s the one shot.

word count: 1666 words (i’m not kidding)

trigger warning: car crash, panic attack

__________________________________________________

crash

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up wake up wake up.

The words repeated over and over in your head. You’d had dreams about crashing your car before, but usually you woke up just before the point of impact. This time you didn’t.

This couldn’t of happened, this can’t be real, this is a a dream, I’ve got to wake up.

But you were already very much awake, this was very much real.

The colour had already drained from your face, tears were welling up in your eyes and your heart had already sunk. Your hands were trembling, your chest was completely still, you weren’t breathing in that moment. Your body had reacted before your mind had completely caught up.

“Fuck.” Was all you managed to say as realisation had hit you. You’d gotten into a car crash.

You looked around you, wondering how the others cars on the road were still moving when it felt like your world had just come to a stop when your car had its collision. You heard your dad’s voice in your head, all the things he’d told you when he taught you how to drive, had - god forbid - you ever ended up in a situation like this.

You went through the motions as well as you could. You were in a state of shock and physically, you were definitely there, but mentally, you really weren’t present. You were having an out of body feeling in the most terrifying way, it was a defence from the panic that had overwhelmed you.

-

Corpse felt a surge of anxiety. He had no idea why, either. All he was doing was looking through fan art on twitter, he hadn’t seen anything that usually would make him feel like that. It just throttled its way into himself seemingly out of no where.

It was especially odd seeing that today had been such a good day. Waking up beside was usually something that put him in a good head space.

So he started to call you, you always made him feel better. But then he remembered you were driving and you were a cautious driver, you never answered your phone when you were behind the wheel. You’d told him in the past how tenacious your dad had been as a driving teacher and it had really stuck with you.

Just as he was about to hang up, knowing you weren’t going to answer, you did.

“Hello?” Something was off. Corpse heard it right away in just that one greeting from you.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t even greet you back, he already had anxiety running through him and the unsettling tone of your answer of the phone had only made it increase.

“I think so.” You were so monotoned. Corpse had never heard you speak this way. You were a lot of things, but monotone was not one. You were expressive, bright and dramatic.

“You think so?” He repeated in a questioning way, wanting to know what was wrong.

“Yeah.” You responded so plainly again. Corpse almost wanted to ask you who was he speaking to right now, because surely this couldn’t have been you. This person had your voice, but this was a person he did not know right now.

“What’s going on?”

“I crashed my car.” You said it to him so simply. There was no emotion behind it. His heart thundered as if a terrible hail storm had just broken out. 

“What?!” 

“I crashed my car.” You repeated. Once again so eerily unemotional.

“Where are you?!”

-

Corpse shouldn’t have been driving in the state he was in, but he needed to get to you. His emotions were running so high and he couldn’t comprehend why yours weren’t.

After what felt like the longest drive of his life, he reached the crash site. His panic peaked when he spotted the ambulance, immediately thinking the worst. But then he saw you standing to the side of it. You were up and talking to the paramedics, that was at least a good sign you weren’t seriously injured.

“(Y/N),” He called for you as he got out of his own car. And just like your voice on the phone, your movements were so robotic.

You were normally so open with your emotions, you were such a readable and honest person. When you were happy, you shined, when you were mad, you yelled red, when you were sad, you cried oceans. But Corpse had never seen you in a true state of shock. He’d never seen your fight or flight response. And apparently it was a stillness and unresponsive, the complete opposite to how you were normally.

“Are you okay?” He knew you probably weren’t, but he couldn’t find any clue to how you were feeling. Until his footsteps brought him closer to you.

You didn’t respond to him at all. Even words felt like too much right now. As he neared you, though, he spotted the signs of fear your body displayed that your words did not. Your hands and arms were trembling, your shoulders were slumped, your face was completely pale, sweat dotted all over your forehead despite it not being a hot day, tears were slowly spilling from your eyes one by one, your chest was moving unevenly as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Baby, c’mere.” Corpse didn’t hesitate to gather you in his arms. Holding you so tenderly against him. That’s when he felt that it was more than just your arms and hands that were trembling, your entire body had a slight shake to it. He knew you were experiencing true terror in that moment.

-

The time between your banged up car getting placed onto a tow truck and arriving back at your apartment felt like a blur.

You’d just gotten off the phone with your insurance provider when you’d heard Corpse.

“Are you in any pain?”

"What?” You’d heard him perfectly but you hadn’t once thought about how this had affected you physically.

“Are you in any pain?” He repeated himself.

“I’m not sure.” And you weren’t, but the paramedics had said that adrenaline would be coursing through you right now and adrenaline was the biggest distraction from pain. “I’m gonna go have a shower.”

“Okay.” Corpse watched you with concerned eyes until you disappeared behind your bathroom door. He so badly wanted to help, wanted to make you feel better, break you out of this state you were in that he was so not used to.

-

You didn’t know how much time you’d spent in the shower. But it was long enough that the sky had grown darker and the moon had replaced the sun by the time you emerged. Once you’d gotten dressed, you made slow steps towards your bedroom. Your hands were trembling more violently than before and your breathing was speeding up.

The shock was finally wearing off and reality was getting ready to slap you hard across the face.

“Corpse...” Your voice was so silent, almost as if you couldn’t form a word due to the air that seemed harder and harder to breathe as a panic attack started to take control of you.

Corpse might not have even heard you had he not been on such high alert for you right now. But he was, and so he did he hear you and when he saw the state you were in, he instantly got up from his spot on your bed where he was waiting for you and was wrapping you up tight.

You were hyperventilating so dangerously, your heart felt like it was being encased in treacherous clouds that tightened with every intake of air you struggled to get.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had cried this way. You were breaking down.

Corpse was completely holding you up. Had it not been for him, you would be a crumbled heap on the floor.

-

The both of you didn’t sleep that night.

Every time you were close to drifting off, the crash would replay in your mind on an insufferable loop and you would jolt awake and the panic would restart all over.

And every time, Corpse was right there to hold you through it. He didn’t sleep due to how concerned he was about you.

-

The next day was a little easier mentally, but a lot harder physically. You’d gotten so much emotion out the night before that now the pain could have your attention.

Everything from your hips up felt sore, stiff and tense. Every time you moved your neck was scary because it felt like it was about to snap. But worst of all was your chest. It was hard and painful to breathe. The paramedics had warned you about this. The impact to your chest was going to take the longest to recover from. You kept your breathing shallow, any other kind of breathing made you wince and Corpse noticed.

“You’re hurting.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating what he noticed. He’d known the signs of someone in pain. Plus he had also taken note of the bruises that had appeared on your skin, the colouring of them looking like a painting of a galaxy, all purple and blue. 

“A little bit.”

“Mhm.” He knew it was more than a little bit, but he wasn’t about to argue with you. He looked over you laying beside him, grateful that you were still here, you were alive. A car could be replaced, but you could not.

You were flat on your back because that was really only the current position that felt even the tiniest bit comfortable right now. Corpse was on his side, one of his hands supporting his head as he leaned over you. His other hand began to soothingly run his fingers through your hair and you let your eyes flutter close at the touch.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled back, keeping your eyes shut and feeling exhaustion take over you.

“Try sleeping, baby. I’ll be right here.”

[fireinmywoods]

Whenever you (gleefully) describe Jim's octopus-like sleeping preferences, we often see Bones complaining about how hard it is to escape when he has to pee. But how often is he getting up to pee in the night? Does he need to get this checked out, or is he really just an old man in body AND spirit?

I actually went back and fact-checked myself on this, wondering what exactly I’ve been communicating about poor Leonard’s urological health! It is indeed established in septenary that Leonard sometimes needs to get up to pee at night and that Jim makes this exceedingly difficult, but the phrasing leaves the frequency of these incidents rather open to interpretation, so allow me to clarify that it was intended to imply that this might happen at most once a night, and not necessarily every night.

In Leonard’s defense (and, frankly, my own), it's not abnormal to sometimes need to get up to pee once during the night, especially if you’re of a certain age and keep yourself well hydrated, and especially if, like Leonard and Jim, you're in the habit of frequently having a drink or two before bed. (Alcohol is a diuretic, meaning it makes you have to pee more, and as a health professional who works on sleep hygiene I feel obligated to advise you that it also disrupts REM sleep and overall negatively impacts your sleep quality and how rested you feel the next day.)

Now, it may not seem like getting up just once per night would be such an onerous task, but consider this:

You drift into a hazy awareness, heavy with lingering sleep, a touch overheated where the back of your neck meets the pillow and in the hundred places your lover's bare skin meets yours. His legs are twined through your own, his leaden arm is belted securely over your middle, his cheek is hot against your shoulder, and all along your side are plastered the slack skin-warm weight of chest and ribs and gently rising belly.

You're comfortable. You shouldn't be, maybe, but this is the least of the paradoxical contradictions you've had cause to reckon with since Jim Kirk came careening into your life, and all things considered you've decided it doesn't especially warrant fretting over. Jim sleeps like a boa constrictor that opted for a mid-meal nap, suffocatingly strong and entirely immovable, and you've never slept better in your life. Chalk it up as yet another mystery of the unfathomable universe.

You do kind of need to empty your bladder, though. It's nothing terribly urgent, but it's there, and you know it'll only grow more pressing by morning, when Jim will be drowsy-sweet and playful, offering and inviting the sort of languorous physical affection you find most difficult to resist. You'll want to laze around with him then, indulging in his idle touches, soaking up the easy intimacy of your bodies wound together, admiring the smoothness of his skin and the arcs of his comet trails as he hums and preens under your hands - and in order to grant your morning self that luxury, your groggy midnight self needs to take the hit and get up to use the head.

It really ought not to be such an ordeal. Unlike some other nights in recent memory, you're not obliged to step away from your campfire into the treacherous dark of a screeching alien jungle, nor to make profoundly awkward conversation with a chatty royal attendant before being admitted into the (God help you) communal relief chamber. Your own private, sanitized bathroom is only steps away, and making use of it will be a matter of less than a minute.

It would be one thing if you could slip unnoticed from the bed, the way you’ve done countless times before with past partners - if you could simply ease Jim down to the mattress and leave him resting peacefully in a heap of pale skin and fluttering eyelashes while you went and took care of business. You might even tuck a pillow into his arms to curl around in your absence, reassure him with a stroke to his lightly furrowed brow that you weren’t going far, and when you returned you'd gather him back against you with a sigh or a snuffle and drop near instantly back into the deep slumber that's still teasing at the edges of your reluctant consciousness.

Yeah, that would be nice. But, of course, nothing where Jim’s involved can ever be that easy.

You begin by levering your numb arm away from Jim's back, wincing at the stinging start of pins and needles, and even as you’re flexing your prickling fingers Jim is already registering his discontent, huddling even more tightly against your side with a low noise of distress, as though you'd thrown off a blanket to expose him to a biting winter chill.

You attempt to shift sideways, hoping against all reason and precedent that you might be able to slide free of Jim's grasp without needing to grapple with him, only to find yourself caged in still more inescapably by Jim's tensing limbs. He makes another sound, complaint and injury, the wounded cry of a man forsaken.

"Jim," you sigh, because at this point it's clear you're not getting away without verbal negotiation. You jiggle your tingling arm and shoulder under him, trying to jostle him into something resembling conscious reasoning. "Wake up."

“Mrmph.” Jim nuzzles your shoulder, obstinate and sweet, frustrating your efforts to muster up some nice productive impatience with him. Lord, how much simpler everyone’s lives would be if this recalcitrant little bastard weren’t so charming in his defiance.

“I gotta take a leak, kid. Loosen up some.”

This does seem to register. Jim grumbles another sulky noise into your shoulder, but his arm retracts slowly and grudgingly back over your belly, and his legs stir against yours in a feeble attempt at disentangling.

You take advantage of his weakened grip and ease yourself out of his clutches, rolling toward the edge of the bed and heaving your legs over to propel yourself into something resembling a seated position, and with your feet now firmly on the cool floor you think to yourself get a move on and now’s your chance and sooner you go sooner you can get back, all too aware that if you hesitate or look back now you’ll be trapped again.

So you get up and go, trudging across the short distance to the head, and when you’ve done your business and shuffled back it’s to find Jim still awake, as he always is, a familiar blurry-edged silhouette in the two percent light. As many times as you play out this scene, your fool heart still pangs a bit at the sight: the faint glint of his eyes seeking you out in the dark, the unspoken plea of his arm outstretched across your side of the bed.

“Budge over,” you say, though there’s plenty of space, because it’s the middle of the goddamn night and that’s no kind of time to allow yourself to feel any type of way about how Jim won’t sleep without you.

Jim draws his arm back some, a perfunctory concession, as much for show as your little pantomime of grievance as you pour your weary bones into bed and find yourself captured once more by the strangling embrace of the man you pray to God never stops reaching for you in the night.

[delaber]

Chipped

Rafael Casal x Reader

Note: I love when you send me prompts 😭 I asked for angst and you delivered! Thanks to all the lovely anons and to @theatrenerd86​ of course!

Words: 3K

Warnings: fist fight 🙃

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

The minute you stepped in the door, everything changed. Time seemed to slow down. The music became distorted. Rafa could've sworn that the lights dimmed considerably. The billiard ball rolling in slow motion in front of him suddenly wasn't as exciting anymore. All he could focus on was you and the heavy heartbeat in his chest.

You looked around the room, shot him a small wave from afar and headed straight for the bar as his senses seemed to return to normal, time speeding up again.

You'd shown up to the party late and even though Rafa had only seen you from a distance, it was obvious to him that something was wrong - again. Even though you had held your head up high, your confident body language was outshone by the fake smile and the sadness in your eyes. Rafa watched your squared shoulders as you poured yourself a drink while trying to look brave. And although you were doing a splendid job pretending everything was alright, he didn't believe a second of it. You had never been able to keep anything from him. He knew you too well.

"Are you seeing this too?" Diggs mumbled as he had also noticed the way you were carrying yourself.

"Yeah," Rafa breathed as he looked at you wipe away a small tear, the smile still broad on your lips. His heart was aching in his chest. It hurt seeing you hurt.

"What are we guessing?" Diggs continued in a quiet mumble, "Rob?"

"Definitely Rob," Rafa said darkly. Of course you were crying because of your asshole fuckboy of a boyfriend. The biggest fucking clown to ever walk the face of the earth. Mr Dickbag himself. Rafa's nemesis.

Rafa and Diggs had absolutely hated Rob from the minute you had introduced him to them - not only because the man was absolutely no good, but also because he had come out of nowhere, pulling you away from Rafa at the worst possible time. Before Rob, you and Rafa had - much to Rafa's satisfaction - flirted quite heavily. Hell, on special occasions, Rafa had even been granted access to your bed! But from the moment you had met Rob, everything had been about him, and Rafa had been degraded to being your old buddy again. ...And he absolutely fucking hated it! And he hated fucking Rob for stealing you away. Fucking Rob with his fucking stupid hipster haircut and his fucking badass Michael K Williams scar.

"We should go talk to her," Diggs said quietly, and put down the billiard cue without looking away from you.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," Rafa answered without really paying attention to Diggs.

"You? Alone?" Diggs arched an eyebrow at Rafa, "are you sure that's a good idea? Last time you nearly broke them up."

"That's still the plan," Rafa sent his friend a challenging look, "or do you want him to continue breaking her heart?"

"Of course not. You're just... partial," Diggs sent Rafa an equally challenging look. He was all for you and Rafa getting together, but he also knew that Rafa was in neck-deep water.

"Shut up, dude. I know what I'm doing," Rafa mumbled and started walking towards you with determined footsteps before Diggs could stop him.

"Don't stir shit up!" He heard Diggs yell behind him.

Rafa ignored his best friend and took a few brisk steps towards you before he was standing by your side. You were pouring yourself half a glass of tequila, downing it in one go.

"Hey..." he smiled when he caught your eye.

"Rafa!" You jumped a little at the surprise of suddenly having him in your face, "hey. How are you?" You poured yourself another tequila, your fake smile still broad on your lips. You hoped he hadn't noticed your rather weird mood.

"Better than you it seems..." Rafa eyed the contents of your plastic cup.

"Is it that obvious?" You shot him a look.

"You're drinking tequila as if it was water..." He leaned in close and spoke quietly so only you could hear, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," you lied, "I wouldn't want to ruin your night," you said quietly. The truth was that you actually did want to talk about it. Maybe with Jasmine or Emmy - but definitely not with Rafa of all people! You already knew how he would react; he hated Rob and would go absolutely ballistic.

"You could never ruin my night," Rafa smiled softly. "Come," he said and grabbed your hand, tugging you along. You followed him hesitantly but ended up sitting down next to him on a small bench outside the house, determined not to tell him a thing. However, as he immediately put his arm around you and pulled you close, the treacherous tears started welling up in your eyes the second you felt his hand caressing you.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yes. I'm just having a really shit night," you mumbled while wiping away an annoying tear.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm okay," you croaked, trying to keep him away.

Of course Rafa didn't believe you, and in a matter of seconds, his expression changed dramatically, "Did Rob hurt you? If he hurt you, I swear to God I will kill him!"

You looked over at Rafa whose nostrils were flared, clearly already angry at the scene he had set in his own mind without even knowing if Rob was involved or not.

"He didn't hurt me, Rafa. Stop jumping to conclusions just because you don't like him..."

"So this has nothing to do with Rob?" Rafa arched an eyebrow at you.

There was no way back now. You knew that Rafa would do absolutely anything in his power to get you to tell him about what had happened. You shot him a sideways glance, trying to determine how angry he was before you admitted to Rob's deeds. "It's Rob, alright - but he didn't do anything on purpose."

Rafa clenched his jaws shut and curtly said, "just tell me what happened."

"Promise me you won't hate him..." you whispered while biting your lip.

"No. What did he do?!" Rafa demanded through gritted teeth.

"He - uhm -" you considered shooting Rafa a lie but knew that he would see right through you immediately. Eventually, you decided to tell him the truth even though you knew nothing good would come of it; "Rob - uh - accidentally kissed someone else last night," you mumbled quietly while carefully examining Rafa's face. He looked as if he could punch something so to diffuse the situation, you quickly added, "- but he feels really bad about it and he told me everything straight away!"

"He cheated on you?" Rafa tried to say as calmly as he possibly could although he was doing a horrendous job. Of all the terrible things Rob had ever done to you, this one definitely took the cake.

"He didn't do it on purpose!" You added quickly, "Please don't be mad at him!"

"Why are you defending him?" Rafa said desperately. His face was distorted, his eyes livid, "He cheated on you! Tell me you broke it off with him!"

"He didn't do it on purpose. He's been going through some stuff lately and he told me that he feels terrible about it..."

"Good!" Rafa said angrily and gritted his teeth, "fucking suits him right. Say the word and I'll deck him in his smug face!"

"Stop trying to save me, I can handle myself! This has absolutely nothing to do with you..."

"I'm the one who has to see you like this," he said softly.

You shot Rafa a look, "you pulled me aside!"

"Yes! Because I see right through your fake smile - and it hurts to see you like this!"

"Rafa, I didn't ask for you to take care of it."

"You'd do the same for any of your friends. I don't know why you can't see that he's bad for you!"

"It's just a rough patch! I know he loves me, he's just been stressed lately."

"Are you not listening to what you're saying right now?" Rafa desperately pulled at his hair, "The guy made out with another girl and you're excusing it? You should be livid!"

"I am livid," you shot Rafa a hard look, "why else do you think I'm sitting out here, talking to you about it? If I didn't care that he kissed someone else, I would obviously be inside right now, enjoying myself!"

"If you're truly upset about it, don't excuse his behaviour! Break up with him! He's toxic as fuck!"

"Would you stop that?!" You said sternly, "I know you aren't his biggest fan but he's my boyfriend."

"Why are you even with him? He's a fucking low life!"

"He's a low life?" You said in a shrill voice, not able to hold back anymore, "as opposed to whom, Rafa? To you?"

"As opposed to anyone!" Rafa spat, "why can't you see that there are so many guys out there who are a million times better than fucking Robert Havert?!"

Rafa's words hit a little too close to home and you got really angry with him, "you really want to go there?" You couldn't help yourself.

"Go where?" Rafa shot you an irritated look

"Riddle me this, Rafa; do you by any chance consider Rob competition?"

"No," Rafa said curtly, looking away from you.

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot, "really? Because you've been sending me some weird fucking signals lately while trying to break me and Rob up."

Rafa's feelings were bubbling inside him and before he could stop himself, he spat, "Of course I consider him competition! Isn't it obvious that I'm in love with you?! You and I had something special before he came along and corrupted you!"

"He didn't corrupt me!" You answered through gritted teeth.

"Why did you turn your back on me then?" Rafa said loudly, his voice breaking. He instantly looked ashamed of himself. He obviously hadn't meant to show you so much of his emotions.

"Because I fell in love with Rob! ...What you and I had was a mistake..." you desperately cried out, "sleeping together was obviously a mistake!"

"If it was a mistake, why did it happen three times?" Rafa spat angrily before his eyes became glossy. He was panting hard, his face all screwed up, "please don't regret me," he croaked, his chest aching horribly, "you can't be serious..."

"Of course I don't regret you, Rafa. But we would've never worked out."

"...Because of him?" He shot you a dark look, his chest heaving up and down.

"No, Rafa," you desperately put your hands on him trying to calm him down, "Because you're you and I'm me. We've been friends for ages."

"I don't want to be friends," Rafa whispered before he angrily looked away from you.

"Rafa, honey," you whispered while searching his face, "I love you - but not like that..." you put your forehead to his. Your hands were now on his chest and you could feel the heavy heartbeat through his shirt. "I'm sorry if I-" Your words were drowned by a car door slamming hard and a voice behind you yelling loudly; "Step away before I punch you in fucking the face, Casal!"

Rob was coming at you and Rafa at full speed, an aggressive look in his eyes. You let go of Rafa as if you'd been scorched by fire and ran to your boyfriend, trying to stop him from beating up your friend. You hadn't told Rob about you and Rafa's escapade but Rob had long ago figured out that Rafa was into you - and you knew that he had been looking for every excuse to fight it out with him.

"Everything's fine, baby," you tried, "Rafa didn't do anything. We were just talking. Everything's fine, I swear!"

Rob's eyes were huge, his nostrils flared as he gently pushed you aside and went head to head with Rafa, "what the fuck are you doing, Casal?! Are you trying to get with my girl?"

"I'm protecting her from you."

"And you plan on doing that by hooking up with her?"

Rafa stood up straight, trying to make himself a few inches taller, "I plan on doing that by actually showing her some emotional support!"

"Don't fucking touch what isn't yours!" Rob was snarling angrily.

"Rich coming from you," Rafa said calmly with a small growl, "do you feel like a big man when you cheat on your girl?"

Rafa's choice of words had Rob shooting him a sickening smile, "that's right, Casal," Rob smiled humourlessly "she's my girl. Not yours. And you know what? She never will be yours. You will never get to touch her, to kiss her, to fuck her. She will never want you. I know you've been dying to experience it but you will never get to see her with your cock in her mouth," he said devilishly.

"Rob!" You interjected, disgusted with how your boyfriend was talking.

Rafa couldn't help himself. He knew he would be disloyal to you and that it would escalate the situation immensely, but he was desperate to wipe away Rob's stupid grin so he too smiled before he calmly said, "oh, you don't think I know what she looks like with my cock in her mouth?"

"Rafa!" You hissed loudly from behind your boyfriend.

Rob's smug face fell considerably and although Rafa could hear the disappointment in your voice, he continued, "what? She didn't tell you?"

In a matter of seconds, Rob's face went from red to purple. He took a firm grip in the collar of Rafa's shirt and plunged his head forwards. Rob's forehead hit Rafa's face with a sickening crunch, and Rafa staggered backwards but was on his feet not long after, decking Rob in the face with his closed fist.

"Please stop!" you pleaded them and tried to pull them apart, but Rob punched Rafa in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground with a thud when all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Rob plunged forward, put a leg on either side of Rafa and started hitting him repeatedly.

Rafa was desperately trying to defend himself against the rain of fists that were coming at him, but was so busy trying to avert Rob, that he didn't have the ability to fight back. Luckily, Rob was grabbed from behind by two guys that hurled him backwards and off of Rafa. Rob unsuccessfully fought to wrestle himself free from Oak and Anthony'a grips while yelling, "I'm going to break your fucking skull!"

Meanwhile Rafa, who was now back on his feet, was trying to wrestle himself out of Diggs' grip, responding with a "I'd like to see you try, you fucking pussy!"

As Rob and Rafa were trying to fight the men off of them, you stepped in, "what the hell is the matter with you two?" you bellowed.

Rob looked as if he had almost forgotten you were there, the sound of your voice immediately making him stop squirming in Anthony and Oak's arms as he looked at you. Ant and Oak released their grip on him, and instead of flying towards Rafa, Rob took a few deep breaths, his eyes piercing through you as he tried to calm himself down.

"How about breaking my skull now?" Rafa yelled at him while squirming around in Diggs arms hoping to break free.

Rob's gaze flew towards Rafa, while Oak and Anthony took a step closer, ready to punch him to the ground if he tried anything. Rob felt the two men nearing him and looked as if he had only just realised that if he jumped Rafa again, he would have to deal with Oak, Ant, and Diggs too. He took an ultimate decision and with a last look at you, he huffed, turned on his heel and angrily walked away with balled up fists.

Diggs loosened his grip on Rafa who immediately ran to you, "are you okay?" He almost yelled, his voice laced with concern, "I'm so, so sorry you had to see that!"

You looked up at him with a dark expression, "how fucking dare you!" You started out in a whisper but your voice gradually became louder as your tone changed to anger, "how dare you talk about me like that! As if I'm some conquest that you brag about to your mates!"

"I know I'm sorry," Rafa panted, avoiding your gaze, "Heat of the moment."

"Rafa look at me," you searched his face, "this is over," you said slowly, painfully aware that you were breaking his heart in front of his friends.

"It's over?" He looked as if he didn't understand what you were saying.

"We can't see each other anymore. It's over!"

"What? You're choosing that clown over me? What does he have that I don't?"

"Rafa why can't you see that you're just as big of a clown as he is!"

"...what the fuck are you talking about?!" He panted desperately, "I'm just trying to make you realise that he's a dick! I'm helping you. He's treating you like shit!"

"I don't need or want your help. What I want is for you to stay the fuck away from me," you said angrily giving him a small shove. With one last look back at Rafa, you turned on your heel and desperately ran towards your boyfriend who had almost reached his car.

Rafa watched you chase after Rob. He watched you desperately explain the situation to him. Watched you apologise of all people. Watched Rob take you in his arms as if he was the one who had to forgive you. He watched you kiss Rob's cheek before you started crying. Rafa's heart was aching horribly. He almost couldn't stand still.

He watched you get in Rob's car, kiss the man passionately before he pumped the speeder, sending Rafa a smirk as you once again kissed his cheek. Rafa painfully watched you drive away and all he was left behind with was a black eye, a chipped tooth, and a broken heart.

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa

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

Chapter 6

Parting Is such sweet sorrow

There was just over a week before Keanu was due to head home. He was browsing in the Round House Gallery on the Harbour front for gifts to take home - he’d already bought an oil painting of Tresco from there for himself, arranging for it to be shipped home.

At the counter, a flyer advertising a production of “Romeo and Juliet” being staged at the Minack theatre caught his eye – The Minack is a famed open air theatre carved into the dramatic clifftop above Porth Curno. He took a flyer back to the cottage and showed it to Kerry suggesting they get tickets.

The night arrived and, at her suggestion based on previous experience, they took a couple of cushions to sit on and a rug for their knees to guard against the cold as night fell. The weather is mild in Cornwall but it was still only late May and temperatures would drop as it’s still cool at night.

Before the start, they bought some hot Cornish pasties and a bottle of red to share. The wine came with little re-usable cups with a cute image of the theatre printed on them that they could take home afterward as a keepsake. With pasties eaten, it was time for the rug which Kerry tucked around them both and they settled down, knees pressed together, to enjoy the show. During the show, Kerry could see Keanu silently mouthing some of the lines, especially Mercutio’s - he explained during the interval that it had been one of his earliest roles, aged at 21 for the Leah Posluns Theatre in Ontario.

The show ended to rapturous applause under the spotlights and with the moonlight sparkling on the sea below it was really a breath-taking spectacle.

They lingered a little in their seats while the crowd made its way up the steps to the exit. When it had cleared a little Keanu suggested they take in the beach before heading back to Sennen. They had a little time before their taxi came which they’d booked knowing they’d be having a drink and that the Cornish roads at night did not favour a driver with even just one drink inside them!

They stood on the sand, gazing up at the cliffs and stars - Kerry was tilting her head back so much she nearly lost her balance! You could see the main constellations really clearly and it was fun to name them. Keanu was enthralled by her wonderment - she looked so beautiful gazing up at the midnight blue sky and the clifftop theatre, her face lit up by the moon. She shivered a little with the cold breeze off the sea and he took the rug from her hands and threw it around her. As he tucked it around her, they smiled at each other. Her eyes had a twinkle, one he recognised from their time in Tresco when they’d got a bit giggly drinking in the New Inn and he remembered the same look when he’d said goodnight to her after they’d got drunk in the pub at Sennen with her sister. Her guard was down and the affection she felt was clear in her eyes. He stepped closer to her, still holding the edges of the rug in each hand. A voice in his head said this was rash but he couldn’t help it. Scrunching the rug up and using it to pull her to him, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. His arms slipped around her and the kiss deepened but just as their tongues touched and he felt virtual fireworks going off in his head, she pulled away, pushing on his chest and breaking their kiss.

Swallowing thickly and clearly holding back tears, she blurted out:

“No stop, we can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t - you’re going home soon and this, this will make it hurt even more”

She looked down at her feet, shoulders slumped, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I know shouldn’t have done that, it’s just, God, you’re so beautiful tonight and I feel so much for you and it all just came spilling out, you know, in the moment.”

She took his hand in hers, softly rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

“Thank you” She sighed heavily “I feel so much for you too - just protecting my poor old heart I guess.”

He nodded, his expression as sad and wistful as hers. They were quiet on the climb back up to the car park from the beach. It was steep and a bit treacherous in the dark so she relented on one aspect of physical closeness and let him hold her hand up the path, dropping it when they got to the car park where the taxi was just pulling in. On the way back to Sennen she took the front seat and he the back. Keanu cursed himself for his impetuousness whilst also pondering that it had surely been a long time since a kiss had made him feel something so intensely. Once back in Sennen they said their goodnights with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Keanu slept terribly, tossing and turning all night, dreaming of Kerry, of kissing her, of Kerry naked rising and falling above him, taking him inside her, her hair cascading over her shoulders. He woke with a start, grateful he hadn’t had a wet dream, then relieved his pent-up lust in his morning shower, pressing his head against the glass after he’d cum, finally letting tears of regret fall.

For the next two days, he didn’t see Kerry at all. Usually, they saw each other every day somehow or other but she was obviously avoiding him – he guessed she was taking Scout for super early walks knowing he wasn’t a naturally early riser.

On the third day and his last in Cornwall, he set an alarm for 6 AM and listened out for her leaving the house, then scrambled to get dressed and head out himself. He looked down the beach and could see she’d gone that way today so he’d be able to catch her up or meet her on the return leg of the walk. He had to apologise for the kiss.

In the end, he caught up on the outward leg as she’d stopped by the shore to let Scout run in and out of the waves and was just staring out to sea.

“Hey there!” he called.

“Hey” she said, her voice expressing her surprise.

“You’ve been avoiding me” he stated “So I set an alarm to make sure I could speak with you. Listen Kerry, about the other night. I’m so sorry, I know it was stupid and I’m sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you – I was just so caught up in the moment, the beauty of it all. The play, the moonlight, the sea and the stars.”

“I know, and I know you’d never hurt me. You’re too kind for that” she smiled but it was with sad eyes.

“And I should be saying sorry too, for sneaking around avoiding you. I’ve been a coward. And I promised myself I would stop that behaviour, you know, after the divorce. I said I’d be true to myself and honest with people and I need to stick to it.”

Up to this point Kerry had been mainly looking down, almost talking to herself but now she drew in a shaky breath and looked him in the eye.

“I could fall, no let’s face it, I am falling in love with you and I know there’s no future for us and a fling or a one nighter would be wonderful in the moment but would just be too painful in the end so that’s why I’ve avoided you! And I’m sorry for that, there I’ve said it now”

She blew out another long breath and let her shoulders droop, relieved to have said her piece.

Keanu was taken aback. Half thrilled and half devastated. Why did this have to happen now and here, over 7000 miles from his home?

“I’m falling in love with you too” he said quietly, sadly “but you’re right my life’s back there in LA. I have to go, I have commitments ……….. meetings, another location shoot. I’m sorry.”

She moved closer, took his hand and kissed it.

“Just one of those things, huh?”

He nodded and pulled her into a bear hug, she pressed her face against his heart which he knew was beating a little faster than usual.

“Come on let’s go walk it off, up on the cliffs, let the fresh air clear our heads.” he suggested.

They headed off up the beach and onto the coast path towards Lands End. They walked mostly in silence, each thinking about what was around the corner for them, each heartsore that the other wasn’t part of their futures.

“You know, I’d like to stay in touch” Kerry offered as they paused for a while on the path when Scout went scurrying off after spotting a rabbit.

“I’d like that too” he paused “but maybe not too much, too soon, you know. I guess we both need some space to let this be a friendship we cherish and not something that makes us sad.

“deal” she said sticking her hand out to shake on it.

“deal” he smiled back but like hers, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

The next day, Keanu left for home. She came into the cottage to tell him the taxi was out front.

They shared a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll keep in touch yeah?” he said.

“Yeah but remember not too much, no mooning!”

He laughed

“I’ll have you know I’m a veteran mooner” and he turned away from her pretending he was going to do the other kind of mooning, making her laugh. At least that broke the tension and he picked up his canvas hold all and his carry-on bag and with that, he was gone.

@fortheloveoffanfic@ladyreapermc@paperplanesandwallflowers@toomanystoriessolittletime@omg-imagine@fics-not-tragedies@ficsnroses@keanureevesisbae

[ruminativerabbi]

Ghosts

Like all of you, I’m sure, I have been watching the events unfolding in Ukraine all week with the greatest attention. And, also like all of you, I’ve been surprised over and over in the course of these last days. Who would have thought countries like Sweden, Finland, and especially (time a million) Switzerland would abandon their former inability to join the West in anything that could even slightly irritate Russia to take serious, meaningful steps to help the beleaguered Ukrainians? Who would have expected our own government to shake off its doldrums and spearhead what so far feels like a remarkably successful effort to inflict maximal economic and commercial damage on the Russians and thereby, at least theoretically, eventually to dissuade them from pushing forward with the conquest of Ukraine? Watching China and even Israel—both of whom are so traditionally eager not to step on Russian toes—speaking out, respectively, vaguely and less vaguely on the side of Ukraine—that also came as a huge surprise to me. So it’s been a week of surprises that I’ve watched parade past me when I’ve been ensconced in Joan’s shiva room at her father’s assisted-living facility for long enough to peruse the news on my phone. (For non-Shelter Rockers, my wonderful mother-in-law died last Shabbat and we’ve been here in Toronto since Sunday for her funeral and shiva week. May her memory be a blessing for us all.)

As always, I try to respond to current events by setting them in their historical context. Is Putin a latter-day Hitler trying to swallow up as many of the neighbors as he can without caring if anyone does or doesn’t believe whatever fig-leaf justification he offers up to justify his actions and only having begun with Ukraine, just as Hitler only began with the Sudetenland? Or does he see himself more as a latter-day Lincoln, looking south and attempting to bring back into the union a seditiously self-proclaimed rogue state led by the political heirs of the rebels who wrongly and illegally chose to jump ship when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991? I admit that comparing Putin to Lincoln seems beyond exaggerated. But is that only because I—we—consider the nation that declared its independence in the summer of 1776 to have been a true union, a “real” nation, that the South was treacherously betraying by attempting to go its own way—and thus nothing like the USSR, which was—at best—an archipelago of serf-states held in place by the brute force brought to bear by the only “real” country in the union, the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (or, as it was earlier and later called, “just” Russia)?

It’s a more complicated question than it sounds like at first. Putin himself is clearly a complex mixture of things: part schoolyard bully, part oligarch, part Caesar, part self-labelled patriot, and part gangster. I’m sure people with far more extensive grounding than myself in Russian history will find all sorts of themes from Russian history echoing through his rhetoric and his actions (and particularly his actions of this last week). But to me there are three central ghosts hovering over Putin as he pursues this policy of naked aggression towards Ukraine and each, a bit like the angels in Angels in America (and especially the one played by Emma Thompson in the HBO miniseries), guides the action forward without actually playing a role personally in the way the drama unfolds.

The first ghost is that of Ivan the Terrible. (The word “terrible” is not at all right, by the way. The Russian word grozniy means “formidable” or “fearsome,” not terrible in the way the word is used in modern English.) Ivan was the first of the czars, the grand prince of Moscow who, in 1547 proclaimed himself “Czar of All Russia.” It was a carefully chosen title: the Russian word tsar (usually written “czar” in English, or “tsar”) is merely the Russian equivalent of the Latin word Caesar, just in the same way that Kaiser is the German version of that word. And it was a latter-day Caesar that Ivan set out to accomplish the twin foreign-policy initiatives of his years in power: the effort to make Russia safe from the so-called Golden Horde (as the huge Mongol empire to the east was called) and the parallel effort to gain access for Russia to the Baltic Sea regardless of what countries lay in the way. He accomplished the first of these two initiatives, extending Russian control as far east as the Urals and as far south as the Caspian Sea (and thus creating a huge buffer zone between Russia and the Mongol Empire). But he was unsuccessful in his attempt to colonize and annex Lithuania, in those days the sole gateway to the Baltic for Russia. Still, by rejecting the Russian words for “king” or “emperor” and choosing instead to be known as czar, he was signaling—and not especially subtly—that he viewed Russia’s place in his world as something akin to Rome’s place in its, which is to say as the central state of a giant empire and as anything but a nation among nations.

The second ghost hovering over Putin’s head is Peter the Great, czar from 1685 to his death in 1725 whose self-appointed mission was once and for all to make Russia into a great nation worthy of the role in world leadership he envisaged for it. He invented the Russian navy, completely overhauled the Russian army, created a secular school system devoted to teaching children to think of themselves as citizens of a great world power, and he exerted enough influence on the Orthodox Church to keep it from getting in his way. And, indeed, he made himself into one of the most powerful of world leaders. And he managed to expand Russia decisively, taking over (because he could) large swaths of Finland, Estonia, and Latvia, thus gaining access to the Baltic. And he went to war with Turkey, as a result of which he gained access to the Black Sea. And he founded St. Peterburg (named after himself), Russia’s so-called “window to Europe,” which made him truly a towering figure in Russian history. (He was, by the way, also a towering figure in the literal sense of being six-foot-six.)

And the third ghost is the specter of Catherine II, called Catherine the Great, who became empress of all Russia upon the death of her peculiar husband, Peter III, and who remained on the throne until her own death in 1796. Catharine saw herself as the “real” successor to Peter the Great. And Russia dramatically expanded under her reign—conquering Poland and then giving away parts of it to Austria and Prussia. She went to war with Turkey and won, securing the entire northern shore of the Black Sea for Russia. (This is basically where Ukraine is today.) And she also seized the Crimea in 1783, making it part of Russia. To learn more, I recommend Robert K. Massie’s book, Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman, which I enjoyed immensely, as did I also his biography of Peter the Great, called Peter the Great: His Life and World. Both volumes are still in print and available as e-books. The best biography of Ivan the Terrible is probably the one by Isabel de Madariaga, published by Yale University Press in 2006.

In lifetimes of none of the above did Ukraine exist as an independent state. In other words, Putin’s ghosts did not conquer Ukraine because there was no such place: once the Russian Empire existed with its czars and czarinas at the helm, it simply went without saying that the territory that is today independent Ukraine was part of the empire. And that, I think, is the world the ghosts hovering over Putin’s head are urging him to recreate, one in which Russia, the largest nation in Europe (and by far—although Ukraine is second-largest), takes its rightful place as leader of the lesser and smaller nations of Europe, which position of natural power and influence it is being prevented from assuming by the efforts of NATO and the European Union, and by the efforts of our own nation as well, to draw Ukraine away from Russia and to make of it an independent nation in the Western style with ties to the other nations of the world, and Russia among them, that are suggestive not of Ukrainian subservience or servility but of Ukrainian sovereignty, autonomy, and independence.

Where all this will end, who knows? The Russians, it has already become clear, can only lose by winning: having to occupy a gigantic vassal state that will remain openly hostile is not what the Russians can want, but neither—and even more horrifying—would be the specter of actually losing the war they’ve begun and having to retreat. The Ukrainians have played their hand well so far, doing precisely what it took to win the support and admiration of the world. President Zelenskyy has shown himself to be brave, clever, and—crucially—photogenic and appealing. (The man is a trained performer, after all!) The Russian government will not collapse under the weight of criticism levelled against it by the entire rest of the world. But becoming a pariah state can’t have been Putin’s plan either. Perhaps the man needs to look up one last time and see the specters hiding just behind Ivan, Peter, and Catherine—the specters of the emperors of Rome (the real Caesars, after all) who chose to conquer and rule the world only for their empire to collapse in on itself when the weight of the world’s loathing simply became too heavy for it to bear.

[roguestarsailor]

impressions of six of crows

***spoiler ishh, not plot spoilers but just character interactions throughout the book***

note: I have not read shadow and bone and this is the first book i’m reading in this series so i have no prior knowledge of who these people are or what happened prior to this!!

I adore all these characters in the book! I love how seamlessly everything flowed and its glorious to read. The names were all confusing to me so I had to constantly refer back to the map and the Ice court layout to fully understand everything. I think there were points where I didn’t fully understand the impact because I didn’t read the other books. Talk of the Second army was confusing for me, but I just pushed through. I just love the dynamic of this group and I really really hope they are ok. Please don’t die. Will this author do this to my sensitive heart?? idkk?? 

the heist was so fun and honestly, i dont think the ice court was that well protected haha. it felt like they had so much time to do so many things but it just might be how the story is told. i love stories of trickery and heist and this one did a really good job. I love the backstories getting interwoven together and the plot twists were lovely. I was stressed for kaz though and i was nervous he will “run out of tricks” but it ended up fine. its strange because he is sooo young and hes battling these seasoned professionals and hes gotta navigate this fucked up world. they all have to navigate this fucked up world and i can’t imagine the stress of always looking behind you but also looking at the next 10 steps and then plotting additional scenarios to live. wow. anyways this i was great 10/10!!

Notable scenes include:

“Jesper!”

I’m going to kill that little idiot. “What do you want?” he shouted down.

“Close your eyes!”

“You can’t kiss me from down there, Wylan.”

I LOVE THEM ALREADY! JESPER AND WYLAN IS SO CUTE

“Pull your shirt up over your mouth,” [Jesper] told Wylan.

“What?”

“Stop being dense. You’re cuter when you’re smart.”

Wylan’s cheeks went pink. He scowled and pulled his collar up.

“Discipline. Routine. Does it mean nothing to you? Djel, I can’t wait to have a bed to myself again.”

“Right,” said Nina. “I can feel just how much you hate sleeping next to me. I feel it every morning.”

Matthais flushed bright scarlet. “Why do you have to say things like that?”

“Because I like it when you turn red.”

“It’s disgusting. You don’t need to make everything lewd.”

...

“Despite her fatigue, she trotted ahead of him. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t want to like a Grisha. You’re scared that if you laugh at my jokes or answer my questions, you might start thinking I’m human. Would that be so terrible?”

“I do like you.”

“What was that?”

“I do like you,” he said angrily.

She’d beamed, feeling a well of pleasure erupt through her, “Now, really, was that so bad?”

“Yes!” he roared.

“Why?”

“Because you’re horrible. You’re loud and lewd and...treacherous.  Brum warned us that Grisha could be charming.”

“Oh, I see. I’m the wicked Grisha seductress. I have beguiled you with my Grisha wiles!”

She poked him in the chest.

YOU KNOW DAMN WELL I FUCKEN LOVE THESE BICKERING IDIOTS. but also nina means so much to me. its so fucken refreshing to see a character who is overweight and can carry herself with so much sass and confidence (because thats what 17 year old me would have wished to be able to channel)!! i love that shes so flirty and especially to someone as stoic as matthais is cute af!! even the author wrote about how much she loves nina: “I probably identify most with Nina. She’s spent her whole life being told she’s too big, too loud, too much--and that’s basically me. I just wish I had Nina’ confidence at seventeen.” she has the kind of sass and big dick energy that comes w having to prove yourself and being shamed and i think thats why she has a special place in my heart!! maybe i’ll go in on my love for nina in another post but ugh i love her

“When we get back to Ketterdam, I’m taking my share, and I’m leaving the Dregs.”

He looked away. “You should. You were always too good for the Barrel.”

It was time to go. “Saints’ speed, Kaz.”

Kaz snagged her wrist. “Inej.” His gloved thumb moved over her pulse, tracing the top of the feather tattoo. “If we don’t make it out, I want you to know...”

She waited.

...

She reached up and touched his cheek...this was the first time she had touched him skin to skin, without the barrier of gloves or coat or shirtsleeves. She let her hand cup his cheek. His skin was cool and damp from the rain. He stayed still but she saw a tremor pass through him as if he were waging a war with himself.

“If we don’t survive this night, I will die unafraid, Kaz. Can you say the same?”

His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.”

NO I LOVE THEM TOO! KAZ1!!! DO SOMETHING!!! BUT ALSO FUCKEN GOOD FOR YOU INEJ YOU FUCKEN KNOW WHAT YOU DESERVE AND IF HE AINT GIVING 100 U DONT WANT IT I LOVE HER TOO

Inej turned to go. Kaz seized her hand, keeping it on the railing. He didn’t look at her. “Stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.”

She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she’d been through. “What would be the point?”

He took a breath. “I want you to stay. I want you to...I want you.”

“You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?”

He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set. It was the face he wore when he was fighting.

“How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?”

He released her hand, his shoulders bunching, his gaze angry and ashamed as he turned his face to the sea.

Maybe it was because his back was to her that she could finally speak the words. “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”

Speak, she begged silently. Give me a reason to stay. For all his selfishness and cruelty, Kaz was still the boy who had saved her. She wanted to believe he was worth saving, too.

ITERATE AGAIN, INEJ DONT WANT 90 PERCENT OR 99 PERCENT SHE WANTS 100 OR NOTHING WOW. i mean my shipping heart says NOOO buT shes right. kaz gotta figure out his shit and then share that vulnerability w her and maybe they can be truly together. UGH BUT THIS SCENE my god

Van Eck taunting Wylan and shitting on him for not being able to read was disgusting and i will fight him. I WILL PROTECT WYLAN WITH MY HEART! HES TRYING HIS BEST AND WORKING WITH WHAT HES GOT AND HE SAVED THEM ALL SO MANY TIMES. GET THIS PEDO OUT OF HERE FUCK THIS GUY

“That’s why you disappeared during the journey,” said Jesper. “You weren’t helping Matthais care for Nina. You were hiding.”

“I didn’t hide.”

“You...how many times was it you standing beside me on the deck at night when I thought it was Kuwei?”

“Every time.”

pekka rolllins. wow. what a man. i expect great things to happen between kaz and him. i truly did think kaz killed him back in the ice court lol but im glad he saw the grand plan and waited it out. hes a man of patience. i can respect that.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

one day, a horn grew from my head (part one)

Beetlejuice, but BJ is more visibly demonic, there’s world building for the Netherworld, and he has a partner helping him...

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

- the whole being dead thing! -

A blue truck rattled up the gravel path, racing to beat the storm beginning to brew up in the sky. Rain was already starting to come down, drizzling over the clouds of dust kicked up by the tires. The headlights shone on the wall of an old house in the distance. From the darkness of the surrounding greenery, sharp teeth spread in a wide grin.

  “It’s almost time,” said the demon. “Took ‘em long enough. I thought he’d never get back.”

There was stirring at his side. He lightly whacked the figure next to him. His suit was sopped with rainwater, making the sleeves dangly and heavy as they hung around his wrists. It was odd to be in such merciless weather after having to deal with the acid rain back down in the Netherworld. Sometimes he couldn’t help but turn his head up to the downpour and let it run over his face in refreshing waves of coolness without it feeling like his flesh was melting off of his skull.

When his partner didn’t get up, he lightly poked her in the ribs with a claw. She squealed.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s time to wake up.”

The mud-slathered, blood-stained young demon sat up straight from her curled position against his side. She blinked, and the moonlight caught on her bright hazel eyes, making them glow.

  “He’s here,” the larger demon pointed a black-clawed finger at the parked truck and the figure walking to the front door.

The smaller demon flicked her comically large pointy ears at the vehicle, then looked back up at him, eyes shining. A moth landed on one of her horn nubs.

The larger of the two smirked again, alligator teeth flashing. “It’s showtime, kid. Let’s put this plan into action.”

  “So, crazy story,” Adam began, taking off his rain-spattered coat. “I got all the way to Howard’s store, and Howard tells me they’re all out of stock.”

  “Oh no,” Barbara vocalized her dismay.

  “But I asked Howard Junior to check the back for me--”

  “Smart.”

  “--so he sends little Howard the Third and long story short, I got the last bottle of Manchurian tung oil!”

  “That’s great!” Barbara beamed. “Now you can finally finish the crib?”

  “Yup!” Adam said, ripping off the cloth of a shiny, wood-carved crib. It was his pride and joy in a strange sort of woodworking way. “It should be ready before the O'Brien’s baby gets here!”

  “She had it yesterday.”

Adam blinked. “Oh. Well--” He fumbled for just a moment. “Doesn’t matter! They’ll get it soon! They can put the baby in the…sink…in the meantime!”

Barbara laughed. It was a sweet, high sound that made Adam’s heart flutter.

  “That’s definitely a place to put a newborn,” Barbara said.

  “It’s round!” Adam said. “It can hold an infant. Plus, it doubles as a bathtub, so you can kill two birds with one stone!”

Barbara chuckled. She was shining one of her newest pottery jugs- her latest hobby. Last week it was painting. The week before that it was embroidery. And the week before that it was composting. He wondered how long this interest would last.

As Adam was shining one of the bars of the crib, rubbing his thumb over the pristine wood, he said, “Maybe we can keep it for ourselves.”

Barbara dropped her jug and it shattered into a thousand orange shards. Adam jumped, nearly ripping the bar right off of the crib. He stood up quickly.

  “Are you alright?” he sputtered.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Barbara said, haphazardly rushing for the broom. She began sweeping up the broken pieces of clay, then peered over at Adam. “What would we use a crib for?”

  “You know…” Adam gestured vaguely.

  “A baby,” Barbara smiled softly.

Adam smiled, too. “Yeah.”

  “I mean…we do have this whole house,” Barbara said.

  “It is a big house,” Adam nodded.

  “And we already have a minivan.”

  “A minivan is a family car.”

They smiled dreamily, imagining what it would be like to have a baby in their household, babbling adorably, snoozing in their arms, calling them “mama” and “dada”, having toys everywhere, getting in danger as they crawled around, crying, hating them when they grew up… 

Adam swallowed thickly. He shifted, and the floorboards creaked below him. “Oh!” He pointed to the ground. “But-- but the floor! Listen to this creaking!” He stepped, and it creaked again, perfectly on time. “We can’t have a family with floors like this! It can be a safety hazard!”

Barbara nodded energetically. She put the broom away and began walking over. “You are absolutely right! Someone could get hurt!”

  “Yeah! And we don’t want that to happen!”

  “Not at all!”

  “We have to do something about it before we have our own baby.”

  “Among other things. We have to baby proof this whole house!”

  “Yes! Great idea! We should get on that as soon as possible!”

  “You’re so right! As soon as possible! So we can get on that baby right away afterw--”

There was then an awful shriek, and Adam realized it came from below as the wood seemed to fold inwards, dropping he and his wife into the darkness below the house. The last thing he remembered was Barbara’s horrific screaming, and then something cold and hard smacking into the back of his skull… 

…and far above, in the light of the house, two heads peered into the hole, one with spiky lime green hair and the other wearing a red and black helmet.

  “Damn,” Beetlejuice said. “I knew they were going to die, but that was quite the fall.” He stood up straight. “Eh. Still a better death than others I’ve seen. At least their bodies will still be intact. Them being cut in half would make things WAY harder.”

The Jockey nodded at his side. She was leaning treacherously into the hole, so Beetlejuice grabbed her by the back of the helmet to keep her from falling in. He tugged her backwards. 

  “They’ll get up soon,” Beetlejuice said. “So we gotta get ready. Prepare. Where’s the book?”

The Jockey looked around mutely. Beetlejuice learned rather quickly that she wasn’t much of a talker. He had never actually heard her voice before so he didn’t know if she even  could talk, though she did nod when he asked if she could. Whether that was the truth or a lie to save face, he didn’t know, but he didn’t really care because they communicated together rather fine. It was quite a bit easier than he was expecting once he had all of her mannerisms down.

  “It’ll show up eventually,” Beetlejuice said, checking the watch he didn’t have. His sleeves were still dripping with rainwater. “In the meantime,” he gazed around the house. “Pretty big place they got here. And for only two people?”

The Jockey pointed to the crib.

  “Right. They  had been discussing starting their own family,” Beetlejuice nodded. He glanced back into the hole for a moment. The two bodies at the bottom were still in the same position as they had been a minute ago, but the pool of blood gathering around their heads had grown slightly larger. Their lights were definitely knocked out cold. “Hopefully the woman hadn’t actually been pregnant. Nobody likes ghost fetuses. They’re so weird. All crawly and goopy and malformed…” He shuddered.

The Jockey laughed. She was capable of making noises, just didn’t like talking for reasons Beetlejuice still didn’t know.

  “What about you? Did you have a house like this? Big? Small? Rich? Poor?”

She looked over at him, flicking one of her ears. She was quiet, as usual.

  “I only ask because my housing unit back in the Netherworld was terrible,” Beetlejuice said. “I was once chained in this abyss for, like, a hundred years. It was the worst. Really makes you miss normal houses, doesn’t it?”

The Jockey nodded faintly, her lips pursed, eyebrows knitted together as she stared at him.

There was suddenly a  thump  as a thick book appeared out of seemingly nowhere, crashing to the ground on a rather ugly green and brown carpet. Beetlejuice picked it up.

  “The rulebook,” he presented it to his partner. “Let’s see…” He flipped open to the first few pages and began reading,  “The Handbook For The Recently Deceased. Chapter One: The Netherworld. All ghosts should proceed directly to the Netherworld.” He closed it abruptly. “But that isn’t gonna happen! These lovebirds need to stay here with us and haunt their house!”

He thrusted out a hand and the fireplace roared to life, crackling with bright orange flames. The Jockey leapt around to it, the glow making her eyes shine. She followed him over to the mantle as he carelessly threw the handbook into the inferno.

  “Whoops!” Beetlejuice exclaimed. “Damn. There goes the book. Now they’ll never get to the Netherworld.”

The Jockey tittered softly. At the same time, there was the sound of shifting from within the hole.

  “Barbara…? Are you alright?”

  “Oh crap!” Beetlejuice grabbed the Jockey by the arm and yanked her behind the couch with him to hide. They both crouched low, listening as the couple crawled their way out of their tomb.

  “Holy smokes! That was some fall!”

  “I guess the floor gave out…?”

  “I didn’t think it was that weak. Are you alright, huh?”

  “I think so…”

  “Oh my god--”

  “You are like ice!”

  “You’re freezing!”

They must have discovered their body’s drop in temperature. 

  “I’ll make a… I don’t remember making a fire…”

The Jockey’s gaze shot over to Beetlejuice. He shrugged.

  “Had to destroy the book somehow, kid,” he whispered.

  “That’s so weird. It’s not hot…”

  “I think we should consider ourselves lucky. A fall like that could have been bad. I mean, my whole life flashed before my eyes like it does in the movies. I started asking myself the big questions, like… Why are our bodies still in the basement?”

  “What did you say?”

The Jockey grimaced behind the couch.

The couple then began screaming, though Beetlejuice didn’t exactly know why. He couldn’t risk blowing his cover just yet to check.

  “Adam! I don’t think we survived that fall!”

  “…What? You mean… Oh god.”

  “Here we go, kid,” Beetlejuice whispered to the Jockey. “It’s our time to shine.”

  “I know… I know. There’s still so much I wanted to do.”

  “I know, me too, but-- Hey, hey. We’re still together, right? We’re still in our house, all of our stuff is here! So what if we are…dead… That’s bad, obviously, but hey! Maybe nothing has to change!”  

Just then, Beetlejuice and the Jockey popped up from behind the couch. 

  “Hi.”

The Jockey waved.

Barbara and Adam whirled around to them. They all stared at each other in a beat of silence. Beetlejuice held up his hands.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said. His sharp black claws didn’t help the statement very much. “You are dead. I am also dead.” He pointed to the Jockey. “So is she. Maybe we can help each other out. What’s up?”

The Maitlands screamed and scrambled away as he advanced over to them with his hand outstretched. He backpedaled in reaction, pointy ears shooting up. He had  not been expecting them to act like that. Good thing he had a child with him.

  “Work your magic, kid,” he said to the Jockey.

The Jockey did as she was told, slowly walking over to the Maitlands with her hands up, palms out, claws visible, as if she were approaching a pair of spooked horses. The Maitlands seemed to relax slightly in the midst of the young girl, but then got weirdly defensive looks on their face. They bustled around her, forming a barrier of sorts between her and Beetlejuice. She blinked over their guard.

  “Hey!” Beetlejuice yelped. “That’s my jockey!”

  “Who the hell are you?!” Adam yelled. 

  “Help! I am help!” Beetlejuice said. “I’m here to help you both! And so is she! So can I have her back now? Pretty sure we have a whole codependent, separation anxiety thing going on here.”

Barbara peered at the small form of the Jockey, then at Beetlejuice protectively, not budging. “Are you her father?”

  “What? No!” 

Adam’s eyes somehow got even wider than they already were. “Did you kidnap her?!”

  “How did you even come to that conclusion?”

But Adam and Barbara were already wrapped up in the theory, becoming even more fierce and protective around the Jockey. Not that they were very intimidating. They had about the menace of a pair of pomeranians, and even that was being generous. 

  “You’re not laying another finger on her!” Adam yelled.

  “I didn’t kidnap her!” Beetlejuice yelled back, exasperated. Hints of orange-red were beginning to flicker around the crown of his head like the first sparks of a fire. If these two newly-deads weren’t so damn attractive he probably would have clawed their faces off by now and found a new couple to get a living human to say his name.

Barbara turned to the Jockey, crouching slightly to meet her eyes beneath the rim of her helmet. “Sweetie, did this mean man take you from your parents?”

  “I didn’t take her from anyone!”

  “That sounds like something a kidnapper would say,” Adam said, narrowing his eyes at him in suspicion.

  “I’m not a kidnapper!!”

The Jockey quickly held up her hands again, shaking her head. She weaved around the protective forms of Adam and Barbara and darted over to Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his side possessively. He glared at the Maitlands for a moment before cooling off, easing his stare. The red and orange fire beginning to light through his hair went down. 

  “I did not kidnap her,” he reiterated. “She is my partner.”

Adam opened his mouth.

  “NOT LIKE THAT!” Beetlejuice cut him off before he even got the chance to say something. “Partner in business. My business partner. We work together.”

  “You work with…a child?” Barbara asked.

  “She’s more useful than half of the adults I know.”

The Jockey stood up a little straighter at that.

Adam looked Beetlejuice up and down. “You said you were here to help us…”

  “Right!” Beetlejuice perked up. “Yes! We are!”

  “Help us with what?” Barbara asked.

  “To learn how to scare!”

  “Scare? Scare who?”

  “The people who bought your house!”

At that moment, two men dressed in delivery outfits came in and began grabbing everything they saw. Barbara and Adam tried to stop them, but their yelling and waving did little to help. Beetlejuice and the Jockey watched on in amusement.

  “They can’t see us!” Adam finally exclaimed.

  “Keen observation, Adam,” Beetlejuice said. He took the crop from the Jockey’s holster and began waving it around as if he were giving a presentation. “The living ignore the dead. We are invisible to them. And they’re so wrapped up in their stupid little lives that they usually just ignore the strange and unusual unless you make them, which is why we’re here.”

  “This is all so much to take in,” Barbara said, running her fingers through her hair.

  “Hey, I get it,” Beetlejuice said. “It’s a lot, but it’s okay! You two are special! You died together! That NEVER happens! Unless it’s a murder-suicide, which makes for a VERY awkward eternity.” 

  “How did you die?” Adam asked warily.

Beetlejuice laughed. “Oh, that’s cute. I was born-dead. Never got to experience human stupidity.”

  “And her?” Adam nodded at the Jockey.

  “Horse racing accident,” Beetlejuice said. He thought it had been obvious from her muddy and bloody silks and the hoofprints branding her body. He tapped a claw on her helmet. “She doesn’t talk very much, so don’t expect an answer from her.”

  “Wait-- how can you be born dead?” Barbara blinked.

  “I’m a demon, Babs, try to keep up.”

Both Barbara and Adam’s eyes widened. Thankfully, they didn’t freak out like they did the last time.

  “You’re a WHAT?!” Adam yelped.

  “So is she!” Beetlejuice pointed to the Jockey.

  “You don’t…look like demons…” Barbara said hesitantly.

  “Well, that’s just rude,” Beetlejuice looked down at the Jockey. “I swear, Breathers read the Bible once and think all demons are the same.”

The Jockey nodded with a tiny giggle.

  “Demons aren’t exactly what you’re used to,” Beetlejuice said to the confused faces of the Maitlands. “If you weren’t already ghosts, my true form could strike you dead simply by being in your midst. I can kill a Breather with a single stare! But I appear in this form,” he gestured vaguely, “to seem less intimidating. Don’t want to scare off any potential clients.”

  “You need to work on that,” Adam said.

  “I can go more demonic whenever I want, though,” Beetlejuice went on, ignoring him. 

He then snapped his fingers and a pair of black-and-white striped horns burst out from the crown of his head. A long, arrowhead black tail slithered out from his waist as his legs painlessly bent backwards into a more hock-jointed position, large talons pressing out from his ratty shoes. The Maitlands stared in shock. The Jockey looked enraptured, her ears fluttering. 

  “Like so,” He presented himself to them. “And this isn’t even what I REALLY look like.”

The Jockey clapped energetically. Beetlejuice grinned at her toothily. 

  “I was born a demon,” Beetlejuice said, looking back at the Maitlands. “Therefore, I was born-dead. She,” he drummed on the Jockey’s helmet, “became a demon. That happens if a ghost becomes too consumed with bitterness, grief, or anger and can’t get over their deaths.”

Barbara and Adam both shot worried looks at the Jockey from the implication behind Beetlejuice’s words. Beetlejuice didn’t blame them for that one. It was uncommon for ghosts to become demons; only if their deaths were REALLY bad. And for a child to turn, no less… 

  “Anyway,” Beetlejuice continued. “There’s a lot of feuds between the two types of demons because born-demons perceive turned-demons as “falsies” or “dirty half breeds” since they used to be humans and weren’t born with their horns and whatnot.” He tapped one of the Jockey’s little horn nubs for emphasis. “It’s just this whole thing.  We get along just fine, though!”

As if to prove it, he and the Jockey smiled innocently, showing their sharp teeth. The Maitlands blinked back at them. Adam glanced over Beetlejuice’s shoulders as the movers continued to haul out furniture.

  “So you can really help us get our house back?” he asked.

  “You bet your sweet dilf ass I can!” Beetlejuice replied animatedly.

Adam’s cheeks flamed to an adorable shade of pink. Barbara looked slightly startled before barking, “There’s a child here!”

The Jockey waved a dismissive hand and mouthed,  “I’ve heard worse.” She then tugged on her filthy silks for emphasis of sorts. 

  “Please say yes!” Beetlejuice said, trying not to beg. “Nobody else can help you! We’re all you got!”

Adam and Barbara cast one more dismayed look at their departing furniture, then said, “You’re hired.”

Electric green shot through Beetlejuice’s hair like the lightning bolts during an acid storm down in the Netherworld. His tail had to be wagging at the speed of light. He shook the Jockey’s arm eagerly. 

  “They said yes!!” He yipped, and the Jockey grinned up at him gleefully. He looked at the Maitlands. “You won’t regret it!”

The Maitlands looked slightly worried. 

  “I sure hope so,” Adam muttered.

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

Jaws dripping with gore, the many-limbed, razor-clawed amalgamation towers over the smaller creature on the street, holding a heart between its teeth. The smaller creature raises its blunted, chipped, and ripped off claws in a sign of weakness, spiked tail tucked between its legs. The abomination devours its heart, then hisses in its ear, “D o n ‘ t e v e r t o u c h h e r a g a i n.”

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

Beetlejuice’s eyes popped open. He stared into the darkness all around him, thick and tall like walls of onyx. Rain was still falling outside. Normal rain. 

There was shifting at his side. The Jockey curled up tighter against his side, finding him warm despite the Dead being deathly cold. Finding his presence comforting despite him being awful.

She didn’t need to sleep, and yet she did. Perhaps to retain a shred of normalcy in her unlife. The Maitlands seemed to be the same way from the soft snoring coming from the other corner of the attic. It was too dark to see them, but they were there.

People were there. 

His tail was still out, so he draped it over the Jockey’s ankle, testing her reaction to the touch. Even in sleep, she stirred, ears flicking slightly. She slumped over completely into his lap, her head cushioned by one of her arms, pointed tongue caught between her sharp teeth. Beetlejuice snorted. He poked her helmet.

  “I don’t know how you sleep in this,” he said.

There was no answer. Even if she weren’t asleep, she wouldn’t give him one. That was okay. He didn’t mind her silence. 

[rochiomaru]

THE BETRAYAL

We make the journey to the islands and land on Minion island in a cove where we can see the rendezvous point at Swallow Island without our position being spotted. I have a terrible premonition that things are about to get extremely treacherous for my family, and as we spend time watching, this feeling is proven accurate. My heart sinks as we watch two warships begin circling the port. The size of these ships are so massive that they almost match the ones used in a buster call. These ships are here to rain destruction, not to simply guard a transaction. It’s as if the Marines are preparing for a war.

It is then that my transponder snail begins to ring. The demons in my soul practically sing in glee as I know whatever news is on the other end is going to destroy the remainder of my happiness. I’m not even sure how I am aware of this, but it is a knowledge that I would place my life on. I simply close my eyes and my fingers crack and bend as I flex them back and forth before taking the snail’s receiver.

Vergo informs me of my brother’s secret letter to the Marines. My world comes to an end for the briefest of moments and my vision blurs as wretched heat fills my eyes. Rosinante has attempted to tell them everything. The auction houses, the devil fruits, and worst of all, he tried to warn them about Dressrosa. It is a country that was stolen from our family by the worthless world government. That crown should have been mine at birth, simply by matter of bloodline! It was denied to me by those pompous fools, so why would help them to keep what is rightfully mine?

I am pulled from my reverie when Vergo attempts to appease me by letting me know he punished Rosinante and Law. Even my voices know to let me be at this moment. Law is my son and still a child. I am the only one to decide his punishment if one is even warranted. My brother is currently the only transgressor, and I still want to talk to him. Maybe the Marines forced him to betray me? I must know why he did this! Brothers...blood is forever! How could he choose them over me? A voice whispers in my mind that The Family is my only true family. I ignore it for now.

“Whoa-whoa, you haven’t killed them, have you?” I ask Vergo. He assures me they are still breathing, but I do not like his flippant tone. I will overlook it, though, as he has been so faithful to me all these years and has been undercover, away from the family. I tell him that we will be that way shortly, as the pirates we have fought said the devil fruit was stolen from them, so it must have been my brother.

Vergo becomes irritated. Apparently, Rosinante and Law have disappeared, but it is of no great importance. We will find them, for how far can a child and an injured man go? I also have my devil fruit to assist me. I pull forth one of my most formidable abilities. Birdcage. I can feel the subtle vibrations as people begin to grab a hold of the strings in a futile attempt to escape. No one can escape this trap once I have set it. I will find my son.

As a final push towards destruction, I release my parasite strings and begin to grab random pirates to slay anyone near them. A morbid pleasure fills my breast as I can sense the pain and fear that fills them whenever someone’s flesh is pierced by my power.

We make our way towards the town and cut down every rat we come across along the way. No amount of begging, or crying is enough to grant mercy. No display of anger, or effort to fight is adequate to repel my family’s judgement. Death is granted to all without hesitation and the stench of iron increases even as the sounds of war decrease. With each death, the demons at the core of my being are gaining more momentum. I can scarcely tell what is them and what is me. It is as though I am losing my true self, and I feel a small flicker of fear. I am drowning, and with Rosinante’s betrayal, I no longer have a lifeline to grasp, nor perhaps even the desire to hang on.

I finally reach a warehouse and use my strings to lay waste to the door. Inside I find the sorry excuse of a pirate captain. He is the one who was to meet with the Marines and sell the Ope Ope no Mi, but here he is cowering before me on the ground like a worm. Somehow this filth dares to accuse me of taking the precious fruit, but I make sure to tell him that if I had taken it, I would not be here now going through all of this. 

He sickens me to even look at him and only have one thing more to say, “How dare you let it be stolen, you drunken idiot?!” before I pass his final condemnation and pull the gun from my coat. He isn’t even worth death from my personal power, and the bullets pass through his head before he can utter one more word in response. Good riddance.

After it is done, I slowly lower myself to the floor and stare at the gun in my hand. I’m losing myself while the demons of both past and present begin to take over everything. I remember how I felt when I met Trebol for the first time. I was so small and broken. He recognized greatness in me and was able to put name to the power dwelling within my soul. Haki. The power that saved me from the villagers. If it hadn’t been for him and Vergo, I never would have met my destiny.

I continue to stare at the gun. The gun Trebol gave me to take my revenge and steal my power back from that man. He’s the one that caused me and my brother to hurt so much! He tried to take my power from me! I can hear Rosi...Rosinante screaming for me to stop. He’s screaming for that man. I ask him why he took that power I had. I tell him we can’t undo what he’s done, but I plan to take his head to the Celestial Dragons to regain entry to heaven. I’m doing it for us! Why doesn’t Rosinante understand? Instead Rosinante persists in clinging to and crying for that man!

He simply turns and says, “Doflamingo, Rosinante. I’m sorry you had to have a father like me.” I pause when he smiles at me. There are tears in his eyes and I can feel my hands begin to shake as I falter. I hate myself for my self-doubt, but this was a man I once trusted more than anyone in the world. At one time, he was everything to me. He would hold my hand as we walked along the streets of Mariejois, and he spent time playing games with me. He held me on his shoulders the first time I saw Rosi. Then I remember the pain and humiliation. He brought us here to be hurt. He let her die. He betrayed us.

The feeling of the iron is hot as I pull the trigger and I’m surprised how it makes my palm sting when the recoil causes the gun to slam back into my hand. I can smell the acidic burn of gunpowder in the air, and it is joined by the unmistakable rich odor of blood. I can feel gore and wet heat splatter on me from his wound. Rosinante continues to scream.

Pica is calling out my name, but I can scarcely bring myself to look away from the gun still sitting in my hand. It seems so small now. How can such a tiny weapon have brought such major changes in my existence? Pica then puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me they have found my brother. That manages to catch my full attention. The time has come to find out for sure if he has truly betrayed me to the point that there is no longer hope for us. I put the gun back into my coat and followed Pica into the cold.

I took my time walking towards the sounds of fighting, and though I was no longer right behind Pica, I could see his footprints in the snow. My voices are screaming for bloodshed, but I have never felt so conflicted before. My chest is aching from how tight it feels, and I notice the taste of copper in my mouth. When I put my fingers to my lips and pull them back, I see I have managed to bite through my bottom lip until it bled. Fufufu… I can’t help but to laugh at myself. Perhaps I am not as strong as I always believed?

The closer I come to where the family is confronting my brother, the harder it is for me to catch my breath. My chest is becoming even tighter, and my throat is getting dry as I struggle to swallow. I must stop and close my eyes. My fingers are moving fast and cracking as I create and release strings to try and relieve the tension in my body. I growl at the voices to shut the hell up, since they have become so fucking loud that I can’t concentrate on catching my breath. I need to understand why Rosinante is doing this!

WHY?

It isn’t until I hear Lao G tell Gladius to stop before he kills my brother that everything seems to freeze. My eyes snap open and I look up towards the direction where everyone is at just over the hill. He’s going to die? I lean my head to the side and relax my face into a wide grin, full of sharp teeth. People often tell me it is quite unnerving. I begin to chuckle softly, and it increases until I can’t even control the laughter. My demons join me in my head. We laugh until tears begin to roll down my face. Then I begin to sob. When did my brother stop loving me?

Did he ever love me?

After a few moments, I wipe my face with both of my hands and straighten my tie. I run my fingers through my hair and ensure that my coat is snug on my shoulders before continuing onward. My face is carefully blank as I approach Rosinante and my family, but I keep my hands in my pockets since I cannot seem to keep the fidgeting of my fingers under control.

I count off the steps in my head to try and keep calm. There is still a burning ember of hope in my chest, he will say something to make this better! He is still my lovely younger brother. All I have ever wanted is to have family and to be happy. We deserve better than the hell of this shameful dung heap that man cursed us to! It is all I have worked towards these long years. Surely Rosinante must know that! 

I stop and look down at Rosinante covered in blood, coughing as he is trying to smoke a cigarette. I want to reach out to him and take care of his injuries, but I know this is not the time for that. In fact, there may never be a time for that again. Instead, I say to him, “It has been six months, Corazon,” and wait to see what he will say back to me. 

The look of disgust and hatred in his eyes repulsed me. I can practically feel it burning my skin as he attempts to stare me down. Suddenly he smiles and reaches into his coat. The others immediately react, but I hold out my hand and tell them to stand down. He is my brother! I will see to this myself.

They were right not to trust him as he pulls a gun from his coat and aims it towards me. He even dares to pull back the hammer in preparation to fire. Icy fingers wind their way around my heart even as fiery pinpricks stab behind my eyes. He surely is betraying me, and I don’t know why. 

What is it about me that makes it so my biological family doesn’t want to love and protect me? I have the blood of the Celestial Dragons in my veins, but they have cast me away too. My hand goes to my eyes before I catch it and put it back into my pockets.

The next thing my brother says is that last thing I was ever expecting. “Marine Code 01746. Commander Rosinante of the Navy Headquarters. Donquixote Family captain Doflamingo, I have been undercover to prevent a future tragedy of your doing. I am a Navy soldier!” 

My heart feels as though it is shattering in that moment and there is a fever pitch of wails lamenting in my head. For the last few years that I’ve been tormented with the thoughts and suspicions that my brother hated me and was lying to me, to hear it put so plainly now was eating me alive. I could feel a cold sweat breaking out on my back and muscles tightening in my abdomen. That power began rolling and coiling within me, wrapping around the demons fighting for dominance. I felt it overwhelming me, but truly had lost the will to care.

Despite the turmoil churning inside my consciousness, I managed to keep my exterior facade in place, save for the deepening scowl on my forehead. Commander Rosinante continued, but he was no longer looking at me as he spoke. Again, my voices cried out he was playing games, only this time I know to listen to them. I realize he is no longer speaking to me, though I am not sure why he is trying to pretend any longer. What is the point in this charade? “I’m sorry I lied to you. I lied because I didn’t want you to hate me.” 

LIES!

I can feel the look of disgust that curls on my lip as I respond to him, “Stop telling those insipid jokes…” before the rage manifests on my face and I scream for him to answer my questions. I ask him about the Ope Ope no Mi and Law. He looks so proud of himself when he tells me that he had Law eat the fruit! I want to laugh in his face and wipe that smug look from existence. All he did was what I had planned from the beginning!

It’s what he says next that changes everything. My whole world feels like it is jerked out from underneath me and I am left with nothing. Law is not within the boundaries of the birdcage and Rosinante has allowed him to be given to the Marines. My son is with the FUCKING MARINES!! The icy fingers around my heart have just ripped said heart from my chest and crushed it to leave nothing but a gaping, bloody hole.

No, no, no, no… he must be lying, is all I try to tell myself as he begins to grin that cocksure fucking smile that lets me know I was never his brother. I was nothing more than an assignment to him. I begin to grind my teeth, but before I can move to react to him, Buffalo and Baby 5 cry out to me. They confirm that a boy was indeed taken by the Marines, so I begin to give out orders to the Family to retrieve Law. Then something in me snaps.

I was simply a pawn to the Commander. A villainous pirate to keep an eye on and report back about. I was never his brother! He never loved me this whole time! This realization causes the dam holding the demons back to break. I no longer have any control and they consume me. I think I may even be… grateful? After so many years of struggling, I begin to sink into the blackness of their embrace. I am me, yet I am not. It is my body, though it is not I that is fully in possession any longer.

 The bastard has the nerve to look offended that I plan to take my son back from the Marines. When he speaks aloud for me not to and asks me why I want to get Law back, I know I would never give him the honest answer anymore. He is no longer family and doesn’t deserve any kindness from me. I allow the demons to answer in my stead, simply because at this point, I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me.

 I can feel my face change as I lean in towards him. The cruelty is almost alive the way it distorts and disfigures me. I truly am demonic in my hatred and my demons have given me a new smile as I answer the Commander. “Why would I wanna go after Law? If he ate the Ope Ope no Mi, he needs to be educated in order to die for me!” Somewhere deep within I wonder if I have allowed them to go too far to even say such a thing, but when I see his face, revenge is sweet, and I force the regret away while retrieving the gun from my coat.

 I look at him and all I see is our father where I used to see our moth… all I see is him, when I used to see her. She has truly left this world for me and the only family I have is the ones I have found. The ones that came to me when I was ten.  I just don’t understand why my blood wants to reject me. I don’t mean to say it to him, but it slips out, “Why do I have to kill another member of my biological family?!”

 We stare at each other for a few moments, each pointing a gun at the other. I tell him he won’t shoot me because he is like his father. Since they do not want me, I will no longer claim them either. The Commander and that man can have each other in hell! I begin to fire. Once I pull the trigger, I can’t stop. I see flashes of my life. My brother as a baby, Law, Mariejois, my moth...my mother; all the things that have been taken from me! Why does everyone leave?

 The voices whisper, “because you are a demon, like us. A worthless monster. Who could ever love something like that?”

 I keep firing until the gun is empty. It is so cold out and I watch as Rosinante slides back against the treasure chest. Snow begins to gather on his body and red stains it. I watch while the others begin to gather the stacks of loot and beri to carry back to the ship, but a part of me doesn’t want to leave him there alone in the cold. He betrayed me in the deepest way anyone ever could, but... I love him. It’s freezing out here, and Rosi is so damn helpless and clumsy. I worry about him. He is my baby broth…

 Diamante taps me on the arm and tells me it’s time to go. I turn away and walk towards the Numancia with my family. We are about to wage war on the Marines in the harbor to get my son back. 

 I release the birdcage and my lips spread wide in a razor-sharp leer. My glasses hide the insanity that is swimming at the surface of my consciousness. I feel like the world cannot begin to touch what I have become.

The Marines will forever regret what they have done to me and my family. I am about to pay them back in spades for the life of my brother, then I will take Law before any further damage can be done.

The Heavenly Demon shows mercy to no man and has now been fully unleashed.

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: With Open Arms

Making my first foray into Call the Midwife fic writing! Turnadette, s2, ~2250 words, G.

Sister Bernadette keeps finding herself in situations where she desperately wants to be in Dr. Turner’s arms. This is not allowed...until it is.

Read here on AO3!

Sister Bernadette rubbed her thumb back and forth over the knuckles of her other hand, trying to focus on keeping a steady rhythm as the car slowly made its way toward Nonnatus House. She was hoping that between the cover of her scapular and the necessity of Dr. Turner keeping an eye on the road as he drove, he wouldn’t notice her small movements, but-

“Sister? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Blast.

“Nothing a little rest won’t cure, Doctor,” she replied, keeping her tone light. “Although even rest won’t help when Sister Evangelina finds out I’ll have to go retrieve my bicycle before I can do my rounds tomorrow.”

Dr. Turner glanced away from the road just long enough to shoot her a stern glare. “You were assaulted by a patient during a long, difficult delivery! The last thing you should have to do after all that is bicycle home on your own, especially when it looks like the weather is going to turn.”

“Assaulted is a little strong, don’t you think?” Sister Bernadette asked, though she couldn’t keep herself from reaching up to gently rub the place on her cheek where Meg Carter had struck her. It wasn’t throbbing with pain any longer, but even the slight pressure from her own fingers was enough to make her let out a soft grunt of discomfort.

“Clearly not,” Dr. Turner said, smiling wryly. He pulled over beside the staircase outside Nonnatus House, braking and turning the car off before reaching over to Sister Bernadette. “Let me take a look at that.”

“You don’t need to-”

“Let me take a look,” he repeated, hands warm on her face. “It will put both of our minds at ease.”

Sister Bernadette didn’t quite believe that statement.

She closed her eyes as the doctor carefully ran his fingers over her cheekbone, feeling for any lumps or breaks. Thoughts she had been trying to ignore for weeks now ran through her mind in the silence of the car, half-formed feelings of longing and love that she desperately wanted to believe were acceptable under her vows. After all, she loved her sisters in God and nursing, didn’t she?

Somehow I don’t think I’d be this conflicted if Trixie or Jenny were conducting this examination, though, she concluded mentally, pressing her lips together in chagrin.

“Sister? Did that hurt?”

“No more than the rest of my face,” she said, opening her eyes to find Dr. Turner looking directly at her with an expression she couldn’t quite name. As he let go of her, she shifted her weight and crossed her arms tightly against her chest, suddenly feeling adrift.

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” he said. She felt exposed under his gaze, though he wasn’t looking anywhere he shouldn’t. “A few hours sleep and an aspirin, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sister Bernadette said softly, looking down at her lap. “If you would...could you not tell the others what happened at the Carter delivery? I don’t want the fuss or the worry.”

“You know Nurse Franklin may have already told the story to everyone? She’s better than a newspaper sometimes.”

“She might have gossiped to the other nurses, but they won’t worry themselves too much. I’m more concerned about how my sisters might react.” Sister Bernadette swallowed hard after her admission. “They’ll want to have you conduct a more formal examination, or pull me off the duty rota...and I couldn’t bear all of that. Not now. If I experience any lasting pain or swelling, I’ll inform you, I promise.”

“I know you will, Sister. I trust your judgment,” Dr. Turner said. They shared one last look, during which Sister Bernadette tried to suppress her yearning for him. She was mere inches away from his arms...and much as she was trying to avoid the motherly intentions of Sister Julienne she usually appreciated, she had a wild notion that Dr. Turner’s embrace would be the exact comfort she so deeply desired, warm and safe and smelling slightly of the cigarette they’d shared….

“May I help you get your bag inside?” Dr. Turner asked suddenly, putting an abrupt end to Sister Bernadette’s fantasies.

“No, thank you. I don��t want any fuss, remember?” she replied. As he exited the car and walked over to let her out, she shook her head slightly, hoping to regain her sense. “You’re very kind.”

She took her proffered bag in one hand and shut the car door behind her, smiling up at Dr. Turner for a quick moment before making her way over to the stairs. As she reached the first step, she heard a call from behind her.

“Sister?” When she turned around to face Dr. Turner again, he continued, “You were brilliant today.”

“Thank you. Your support made all the difference.” She gathered her bag close to her chest, the closest she would get to an embrace that day, and nodded once at the doctor before turning back to the stairs and entering the convent.

If she had looked back as the door closed behind her, she would have seen Dr. Turner gripping the car door handle tightly, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to follow her inside and never let her go.

___________________

Weeks later, Sister Bernadette was back in Dr. Turner’s car, watching the city thin out into the countryside and trying not to obsess over every breath she took.

“I really do think we’ve caught this in time for the triple treatment to work its wonders,” he said, not for the first time. The hopeful side of her wanted to believe that he couldn’t think straight around her, either, but she refused to indulge that thought. He was driving, trying to make sure they got to St. Anne’s in one piece - he had other things to focus on.

“So you’ve said,” she teased, hoping to see him smile one last time before she was exiled away from him - no, Poplar, not just him, she corrected herself - for who knew how long.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to smile at her briefly, and Sister Bernadette felt her soul light up in response. “I’m terrible company, aren’t I? I just...I don’t want to worry you.”

“You’re navigating down treacherous country roads to a place you’ve never been,” she said, smiling back. “I understand if conversation isn’t the first thing on your mind just now.”

“I’ll be more interesting when I write to you, I promise.”

“When you - when you write to me?” Sister Bernadette parroted, caught off-guard.

“Do you not want me to?” Dr. Turner asked in alarm. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to overstep-”

“No, no - please do write,” she said quickly. “I just didn’t think - you’re so busy-”

“I don’t want you to feel alone,” he said, cutting off her spluttering remarks. “I know the sisters and nurses will write, but I’m sure they’ll also get busy at times - and I promised Tim he could send letters, too.”

“Well, we can’t disappoint Timothy.” Sister Bernadette turned to smile at Dr. Turner once again, but her expression froze as they rounded a corner and came upon the gates to St. Anne’s.

The car was silent as the doctor pulled in and came to a stop a little ways away from the front portico. They sat unmoving for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Here we are, then.” Dr. Turner got out of the car and came around to open Sister Bernadette’s door before popping the boot to retrieve her travel cases. As he bustled about, she stood unmoving by the rear of the car, staring up at the massive building.

“Sister?” He came up beside her, hovering uneasily for a moment before resting his hand ever so gently on her shoulder. She forced herself not to lean into his touch, to keep it chaste, appropriate, friendly.

It was a hard battle.

“I’m scared,” she said softly, glancing up from his hand to his eyes. “I know my chances of recovery are excellent, but nothing’s guaranteed, is it?”

“If anyone can beat TB, it’s you,” Dr. Turner said, squeezing her shoulder. “I may sound overconfident, I know, but I believe mindset plays a role in all recoveries, minor though it may be. I also can’t...can’t even begin to let myself think that you may not come back.”

At that, Sister Bernadette gave up on self-restraint. A couple of tears turned into a steady stream, and she felt a handkerchief get thrust into her hands as the rest of her body was pulled toward Dr. Turner’s inviting chest.

“Wait,” she choked out, halting herself a hair’s breadth away from the place she most wanted to be. She used the hankie to mop her eyes before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I could be contagious. You could get sick, too, and then what would happen to Timothy, and all your patients? I couldn’t live with myself if...if….”

She sobbed once into the handkerchief and took a tiny step back.

“I want to, Doctor, more than I feel free to admit. But I can’t. Not while I’m sick.”

Sister Bernadette made herself look Dr. Turner in the eyes once she finished speaking and felt a rush of relief when she saw understanding and support in his gaze.

“Part of me wants to take the risk, but I know you’re right,” he said, letting out a resigned chuckle. “As usual.”

She chuckled once at that, too. “Thank you. I suppose...I suppose the sooner I get inside, the sooner I can start treatment, right?”

“And the sooner you’ll be back in Poplar,” Dr. Turner confirmed. “I’ll miss you, Sister.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Doctor.” Sister Bernadette reached for her cases, only to remember she was still carrying the doctor’s hankie. When she stretched out her arm to return it, he waved it away.

“Keep it. Just in case.”

“I’ll give it back once I return to Nonnatus.” She tucked the hankie carefully in the pocket of her habit before offering her empty hand. “I promise.”

Dr. Turner shook her hand once, warmly. “I’m holding you to that.”

___________________

“I think it’s her!” came the shout from behind her.

Shelagh thought she might faint in the road when she recognized the voice. She turned back to see a familiar, beloved green car approaching and dropped her cases when it came to a stop and Dr. Turner got out.

He was in front of her almost before she could blink. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, overwhelmed, until he reached up slowly and rested his hand against her forehead, checking for fever.

“What if it had started raining? What if you got lost?” he asked, hushed and fervent.

“I was lost,” she confessed. A sheepish smile threatened to grow on her face, brought on by the combination of her joy at seeing him again and her embarrassment at her plan failing. “I got the wrong bus.”

He stripped off his overcoat at that, wrapping it around her shoulders and surrounding her with the scent of Henleys and cologne. “I was on the right road.”

“Yes,” she whispered, reveling in the warmth of his jacket and the weight of his hands against her collarbone. Somehow, that one statement seemed the most apt way to describe their entire relationship. “I know you so little, but I couldn’t be more certain.”

“I am completely certain.” There was a moment of silence before he admitted, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Shelagh.”

“Patrick,” he replied, answering the question she had had since she saw the signature on his first letter to her at the sanatorium.

“There, we’ve made a start,” she said, feeling the rightness bloom inside her. “Timothy!”

Timothy had popped up beside her out of nowhere. He wriggled under her right arm, squeezing her in a casual yet affectionate hug and forcing his father to take a step back.

“Are you better? Are you coming back?” he asked, beaming up at her.

“Yes and yes. As long as your father allows me in the car,” Shelagh said, looking up at Patrick with a teasing grin as she hugged Timothy back.

“He will!” Timothy chirped. “Here, I’ll get your bags.”

He scooped up a case in each hand and darted back to the car, depositing her things in the boot before clambering back into the back seat.

“You are always welcome anywhere I am,” Patrick said when they were alone again. “But I would prefer that right now, we were somewhere warmer and drier, for your sake.”

“As would I,” Shelagh replied. “But there is one thing I need to do before we can go.”

“What could you possibly-”

Patrick’s question was cut off by Shelagh closing the distance between them to bury her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso securely. Scarcely a moment later, she felt Patrick return the embrace, bracing her as she went slightly weak in the knees. His lips gently brushed the top of her head.

“I was dreaming about this at St. Anne’s. Ever since I had to push you away that first day,” she said, turning her face so she could speak clearly but refusing to move even a centimeter away.

“I was dreaming about this long before then. All I wanted to do after Meg Carter slapped you was bundle you up and ensure you were alright.”

“I wanted that too. But better late than not at all, right?”

“I couldn’t possibly agree more.”

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chp 1: A Pandemic

As legends come and go, often times they come up again for the sake of reemerging. Today was like any other day in Greece, the shepherds tending to the sheep, fisherman scouring the coast for fish and the market places bustled and hummed with activity and life. However, like everyday, there was occasionally misfortune; a farmer's livelihood has been taken from him in the form of all of his goats being brutally killed.

A small village in Arcadia has been struck with a series of slaughtered animals and the disappearances of many young men and women, as the villagers grow more and more anxious, they turn to the only entities who they believe could possibly give answers to this occurrence. "OH MY THE GODS FIND WHAT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS TERRIBLE PLAGUE UPON OUR LAND?!" pretched a local temple priest, a longtime patriarch of the polis, had never seen such bloodshed....atleast not personally, the same can't be said for the vilagers. As the priest was billowing his wise words of wisdom, many of the villagers started to bicker and commentate on the subject. Some claim to have seen large beasts roaming the countryside stalking in the night, "wolves possibly if they didn't walk on two legs" says a farmer, "some of them were eyeing the women and children", spoke another. No knew what was happening, but the ever watchful eyes of Zeus knew.

Zeus, god of thunder, king of the sky, the homewrecker to end all homewreckers, observed from Olympus the current worries and woes of man. He couldn't help but feel concerned for the newest string of prayers, "HERA" he boomed to his beloved wife, "Have you received any prayers regarding the disappearances of loved one, my dove?". Hera, goddesses of marriage, queen to Zeus and if she could she would put Zeus in a jar and shake it violently, wanted to ignore her consentingly disappointing husband....but this time she could tell there was concern in his tone. "What did I tell you about pet names, Zeus?" she tartly replied. Zeus knowing well that no matter how many times he tries to rekindle and semblance of affection from Hera, she would never forget his treacherous behavior, "Sorry Hera, I can't help myself sometimes" he responded, "yes and THAT is all the time, now what do you mean "disappearances of loved ones", mean like....oh I don't know.... husbands running off with another woman or some smart young girl actually realising her life is meaningless ordeal and did the smart thing and left everything behind to become a free thinking and independent individual?" Hera bombarded him, all he could simply do is listen and let her ramble...after all it was at the very least he could do. "Um no, Hera, I'm mean as in....well.... disappearing under strange circumstances. You know....like a child or a family disappearing and never being seen again." he sternly replied. She felt as if she's stepped on someone's toes and immediately felt guilty for probably not holding herself better, "Oh, well...as a matter of fact, I have been getting some rather upsetting prayers....and...yes...they are disappearances...why are you concerned? You haven't cared about "man's" afairs in centuries.". Zeus pondered this situation, of all the times to worry about humanity, why now? "I feel that this may be an issue that is spreading across Greece....followed closely by slaughtered farm animals...." He claimed. Hera didn't understand why but she knew this must have had something to do with Zeus, after all, most things are. ".... Zeus, what is going on.", She asked. Walking to a balcony overlooking all of Greece, his eyes rested on a dark forest at the base of mountain near one of his beloved son's polis, Mount Parnassus, a place that was once peacefully secluded, now has a dark cloud handing over the area. "I fear, that in the past, I should have taken a more direct action....I just hope this is not what I'm thinking it is....it should be impossible since that was many decades ago.....please Hera, if you feel that there is any strange or see anything..... please do not hesitate to tell me." As he turned around, his shining white hair and beard stiffened into eagle feathers, wings took up his space like a cape establishing his presence, and as he ruffled feathers, sparks of electricity fell to the floor. "You know....has anyone told you that you are way too dramatic for your age Zeus?.....but...yes I will keep an eye out.....but again I ask....what am I looking for?" She mewed. Inspite of her contempt for him, she couldn't help be occasionally be impressed by him, as after, you can take the man out of the wild but you can't take wild out of the man. Zeus in eagle form turned to her before he can take off, "wolves" he replied. Spreads his wings and sores down to the earth, in search of what he hoped was just a really bad month.

With a soft huff, she turned away from the balcony to return to her own matters, "wolves?" She exclaimed, "wolves? Please....it's not like as if wolves are something new....." finishing her statement, she sees all her prayers and finds one prayer that sends a chill down her spine.

Oh great and glorious Hera,

I fear for my children and family, I have not seen my husband in three days....he is a faithful man, he would never abandon me and my girls. We're frightened, I hear howls in the dark of knight, the horses have been restless and my brother had to have come his farm to keep us safe. His village has had a string of wolf attacks, he says that some of these wolves have taken people from his village. I pray to you in hopes that this was not the fate of my dear husband.

Breathless at the prayer, she couldn't help but hear Zeus's warning. "Well Zeus.....I don't know what is going on, or what you have anything to do with it.....but I swear if you're responsible for this.....I'm going to cut your balls off." she growled.

End of chapter 1

[momentofmemory]

FICTOBER 2020 - day seven

Prompt #6: “That was impressive.”

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Hayden Romero, Scott McCall

Triggers: Discussion of Death

Words: 1711

Author’s Note: Hayden’s adjusting super well to being a werewolf. Adjusting is what she does. But adjusting to everything else that happened to her... That might be a little more of a struggle. Set post-5B, pre 6A. Hayden POV. For @daughterofluthien

>> incremental steps

Running.

So fast and so far and so strong it feels like she’s flying, leaves kicking up under the balls of her feet and wind ripping freely through her hair.

It’s her favorite part of her new body.

She’s always loved to run, first out in the backyard with her sister and then on the field for soccer, but running alone has always been her favorite. It feels like nothing—no one—can ever catch her, ever tell her to stop.

There’s a power that thrums through her veins now, buzzing in time to the rhythm of her steps. This is running the entire preserve in under a half hour without pausing for breath; it’s pushing up off the ground and landing a dozen yards away without even trying, it’s leaping off a ledge and flipping three times midair to land—

“Oh, shit!”

It’s the quick pivoting of the body below her that saves her from crashing headfirst into it more than anything else, but the impact still sends both of them tumbling into the dirt.

“Sorry!” Hayden scrambles upright first, spitting leaves and shaking twigs out of her hair, slowly bringing her senses back down to the present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

She takes in the grey henley, crooked jaw, and surprisingly chill attitude at getting blindsided from a height of thirty feet. “Wait, Scott?”

“That’s me,” he says, sounding far too cheerful for the situation as he brushes his shirt off.

Hayden blinks, trying to refocus her eyes and tune out the sound of their heartbeats, hers purring gleefully along from her run, and his idling at a much more sedate pace. Her brow furrows.

“But—what’re you even doing out here? I thought you guys had lacrosse practice—” A new thought occurs to her and her blood pressure spikes, crashing her fully back into reality. “Wait, were you following me?”

“Uh.”

That’s a yes.

All the freedom she’d felt to just be from earlier vanishes, now viewed from the perspective of an outsider.

“So you saw—” Hayden flushes, remembering the excessive flipping she’d done. “Oh, god.”

“No, it’s okay, really.” Scott heaves himself back onto his feet, nodding towards the ledge she’d just jumped from. “Actually, I, uh—I was just going to say that was impressive.”

Hayden feels like the words should be mocking, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“…Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that, and a warm rush of pride overtakes the heat of embarrassment. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Scott’s smile is warm, too. “I just—you’ve been adjusting to your powers really well. Faster than most people.”

Hayden’s pretty used to adjusting to things. Losing her parents, her kidney, her life. Gaining something for once is a nice change.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I had powers before the bite, even if they were a little different. Guess being a fish boy’s science experiment has some perks.”

Scott arches his eyebrows.

“Mason’s fault,” she says. “Their outfits looked like those weird old diving suits with like, the copper plating and tubes and stuff, and fish are—look, it doesn’t have to make sense.”

Scott laughs, and Hayden’s startled to realize it’s a sound she’s never heard it before. “Probably a good mindset for most of the things that happen around here.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that idea.” Hayden fidgets, her muscles upset at the sudden end to her workout. Too much thinking, not enough running.

Since Scott seems unbothered by the delay, she pursues it herself. “So like. If I’m doing great at the whole werewolf thing, why did you follow me?”

Instead of answering directly, Scott looks over at the ledge that’d started the whole altercation and nods towards it. “How’d you know you could fall that far?”

“I just—did? I mean, I’ve jumped pretty far by myself. And it’s not like it’s the first thing I’ve jumped off of.”

Scott nods. “Incremental training. You do something at lower levels of risk until you know you’re ready for the real thing.”

“Sure, I guess.”

Scott falls quiet, his hands slipping into his pockets. Hayden senses—something radiating off him, that wasn’t there before. She’s good at controlling the physical aspect of her powers, but the finer points like chemosignals or whatever are a little fuzzier.

Not that she has any intention of telling him that. She can figure it out on her own.

And if not, she can still read body language well enough to know that what she’s sensing in Scott is unease.

She really doesn’t want to have that kind of conversation right now.

“I probably need to—”

“The full moon’s coming up in about a week.” Scott winces, either at interrupting her or at the statement itself. Probably both. “I know we already gave you the basic run-through before you got bit, but. If you have any questions, I can help. Your first time can be a little… intense.”

“Apparently not just your first.”

It’s a terrible thing to say; she realizes that the second after it crashes into the conversation. But she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t thought about it.

A lot.

“Um.” Scott rubs at the back of his neck, turning into the massage just enough to avoid eye contact. “That doesn’t usually—I mean—”

He sighs. “There were a lot of factors involved.”

Despite how much she doesn’t want to have this conversation, Hayden doesn’t miss the way Scott’s hand drifts over his chest.

She checks her eyes for mercury sometimes, too.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, before she can think better of it.

For his part, Scott just cocks his head to the side. “For what?”

“I’m kind of—I mean, he used me—” Hayden gestures vaguely, hoping he’ll get the point. She’s not good at this. “With Liam.”

Scott, obnoxiously, just looks even more confused. “What—”

“Liam chose me over you.”

It’s blunt, but. Judging by the way Scott flinches, it gets the point across.

“He shouldn’t have done that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d have been a fan of not dying, but…” Hayden shrugs and her eyes focus on the scuffed up toes of her shoes. “…He shouldn’t have done that.”

Scott bites his lip, his eyes clearly focused elsewhere, then slowly drops down into a crouch on the forest floor. He looks up at her, and she takes that as an invitation to do the same. He only starts speaking after they’re both settled.

“Liam wasn’t…” Scott sighs. “Anger’s not exactly like that.”

Hayden’s own anger flares. “What, moral?”

“No, it’s like… you dying was a reality for Liam at the time, right? Whereas me dying was just… a hypothetical.”

“Pretty messed up hypothetical.”

“No argument there,” Scott agrees. “But being angry that you were dying—that was a good thing. The problem is that anger is really, really powerful. And sometimes we’re so angry about one thing, we let it make us do some other thing that winds up being just as bad.”

Hayden’s angry about a lot of things. Even before all this.

“So is that gonna be me? I’m just angry all the time until one day I snap and try to kill someone?”

“No,” Scott says. “You’re not a monster.”

“Then what am I?” There’s the anger again, and wouldn’t it be so ironic if this were what made her snap? “Because so far all I’ve accomplished is helping to get you killed, working for the guy that did it, and then just getting saved again.”

She can feel her claws wanting to come out, and she wants to run, to run where she can’t hurt anyone and no one can stop her and—

“Hayden, hey, it’s okay.”

A sense of calm washes over her, and when she glances up, Scott’s eyes are tinged crimson. She takes a deep breath, then another.

The claws recede.

“See? Incremental steps.” Scott smiles. “And I’m still here, so you didn’t get me killed.”

“You still died, Scott.” The anger’s gone from her voice, replaced by its worser cousin: fear. “And don’t tell me that didn’t matter because I—because I did, too.”

And there it is.

Treacherously, a tear escapes her eye, and she hastily wipes it away.

But not before making sure it isn’t bright and silver.

Scott doesn’t comment on it. “If it makes you feel better, it’s not the first time I’ve died.”

That is definitely not the sentence Hayden had expected to come out of Scott’s mouth, and if it’s meant as a distraction, it works pretty well. “That mean anything?”

“Means I’ve had more practice.”

Hayden snorts. She wipes at another tear, one that’s definitely still just salt and water. “Didn’t know it worked that way.”

Scott smiles ruefully. “I’m pretty sure I got worse at it every time, actually.”

“Your pep talks suck.”

The laugh from before returns. Hayden counts that as a win, somehow.

“Look,” he says, eventually. “The thing about anger is that it’s really easy to let it get anchored in the past. And life’s like that, too. But… if you get too focused on the past itself, instead of what it means for now, or even for the future, it’s easy to let it take you to some messed up places.”

“Like with Liam?”

“And a bunch of other people that had it even worse, yeah.”

Hayden considers this. “So what do you do?”

“Well, you don’t ignore it.” The way Scott says the words makes it abundantly clear that he’s tried. “And you can’t go at it all at once. So—” Scott nods towards the ledge—“you work at it a little bit at a time.”

The corners of Hayden’s lips quirk upwards. “Incremental steps?”

His responding grin is blinding. “You got it.”

Scott rises to his feet, dusting off his jeans again, while Hayden watches—this time, a sense of shared understanding between them.

Hayden clears her throat and looks up at him. “So what’s the first step?”

“For now,” Scott says, and he reaches his hand out to her, “think you beat me in a run?”

Hayden looks at Scott’s deep red eyes, then his hand, then his eyes again.

They’re a rich, warm brown.

She takes his hand.

“You’re on.”

[spartanswiftie]

✨Meet Me In The Afterglow✨

Taylor,

Your music has always been important to me for a number of reasons, but the biggest thing it has helped me through is the death of an ex boyfriend. Although we were not together at the time of his passing, my relationship with him was a defining event in my life and his passing changed my life forever. Chris passed away suddenly in a car accident on Christmas Eve, 2006. Our relationship had been on and off for about 3 years and was dysfunctional for lack of better terms. When it was good, it was great. When it was bad it was awful. To this day I believe he may have been bipolar. He would be the sweetest guy, calling me at 5:30am on his way to work to leave me a message saying good morning and he hoped I had a good day. He’d make romantic dinners, he was a great cook..buy me sweet gifts, and we would have the BEST times together. He was my FIRST Valentine. At 25 years old he was the first legitimate Valentine I’d ever had. After reading your journals I know you know the feeling of being single on Valentines Day. It meant so much to me.

But, he had a dark side. Without warning he would completely ghost me overnight. When he disappeared he disappeared from EVERYONE. His friends would come to me asking where he was. He would isolate himself from everyone for weeks, sometimes months at a time before re-appearing out of nowhere. When he did re-surface he would be profusely apologetic and I did love him so eventually I’d cave and go back to him. Over time I accepted his pattern of behavior and became more expectant of it but it didn’t hurt less when it happened.

My friends and family grew to HATE him because of this. I couldn’t talk to anyone about him, and eventually I’d have to lie to everyone when I would hang out with him. I knew the writing was on the wall but I didn’t want to give up on him. I thought I could change him, but you know how that story goes.

Sometime in 2005 we broke up and cut ties for awhile. Like clockwork we ran into each other around Thanksgiving that year and stayed in touch. His dad had just had a double lung transplant and I knew how much that meant to his family at the time. We kept in touch. On Valentines Day 2006 we were both single so we decided to hang out together. Of course I lied to everyone I knew about where I was going that night. He made me dinner, we drank wine and talked about our past relationship and what had gone wrong, why it didn’t work. We laughed a lot, played with his dog, cuddled on the couch and watched Napoleon Dynamite together. When I left he kissed me goodbye and that was our last kiss. That night was our closure. I thank God every day that I made the decision to spend that night with him.

Just before he passed I went through a crappy breakup and I debated calling him. I even told my mom about our Valentines date and that I was thinking about reaching out. We both agreed that it probably wasn’t best and I decided not to.

When he passed my entire world shattered. As I said my friends and family HATED him. Nobody understood my grief because they all thought he treated me terribly. I used the word hate because I had a few of my BEST FRIENDS at the time call me (this is not an exaggeration) LAUGHING saying “Did you hear what happened to Chris? Karma’s a bitch.” Needless to say that was the LAST time I spoke with them. I mourned his death and the loss of 90% of my friendships. I started over. I made new friends, surrounded myself with new people and in the WORST time of my life it was the best thing that ever happened at the same time. I know you can relate to this.

Your career was just starting when he passed. He has a younger sister who I’ve kept in touch with (as well as his parents) and she is also a Swiftie. In that sense you’ve given me common ground to stay connected with his family and I could never thank you enough for that. That aside, SO MANY of your songs have helped me process his loss and the emotions around it in hindsight. The first time I heard Last Kiss I sobbed. That song is #1 when I am feeling sad and need to re-connect with him in my memory. There are so many others; basically the entire Red album - particularly All Too Well, Treacherous, I Almost Do, Sad Beautiful Tragic and Red. Enchanted always makes me think of him and when you played it acoustic at MetLife and I was there I about died!

It’s crazy to think that someone you don’t even know can write a song that can take you to such a deep personal space and help you process things that nobody else can, and that’s why I love music so much. You did it again on this album, and in such a beautiful, fitting way.

When I first heard Afterglow I loved it. I thought first of a relationship I had in high school (my first love) where I ended up trying to preserve a friendship but in the end broke his heart. Then the song did a handstand. I bought a new car recently, and ever since the night of Chris’s viewing I’ve kept the prayer card tucked in the mirror of my visor in my car. Every time I get a new car I transfer it. I’d done the same on July 31, the day I bought my car. The other day I took it out for a moment and I sobbed. The title on the card is AFTERGLOW. I immediately turned the song on and got goosebumps. It’s as if he is speaking to me from heaven through the song. The lyrics are spot on and perfectly describe what our relationship dynamic was from his point of view. I’ve never been more convicted about the power of music as I am in this moment.

Roughly 13 YEARS, I repeat 13 YEARS later you release a song on an album named LOVER with the title AFTERGLOW that PERFECTLY emulates our relationship and the apology he more or less gave me 13 years ago with the chorus line “Meet me in the Afterglow”. Goosebumps for days.

THANK YOU TAYLOR for being the most incredible singer/songwriter on the planet and for creating these masterpiece songs that have helped me through the darkest days of my life. The best part is that the album ends with Daylight, the only song of yours that perfectly describes my relationship with my husband. I’ve said a million times, if it weren’t for my relationship with Chris and his passing I would not have been “ready” to meet my husband. Going through all of that changed me and taught me so much and ultimately led me to him. And if there was any question in my mind, God wiped them away (and I say this because I believe he had a hand in all of this). On my wedding day, Chris’s dad reached out to me on Facebook and congratulated me and wished me all the best in my marriage. I can’t help but feel like Afterglow is in a way a little check-in, sign of approval, call it what you want...a letting go of sorts. Either way, this has all allowed me to step into the Daylight...and let it go. I’m at peace, mostly because of your music. I could never thank you enough💗

@taylorswift @taylornation

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 66: The Forsaken Soldier

Chapters: 66/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Mature Warnings: 

Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go)

Characters: Loki (Marvel),  

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), 

Summary:   Loki has several worst nightmares. Here is one of them.

You woke safely in Loki's arms.

“Mmm. I could get used to this.” You murmured, voice morning-rough. Loki shifted so that he could squeeze you a little closer.

“Then sleep here. Every night. You can, you know.”

“I know.” You said, rolling out of bed. “I just don't know if I should. Or if I want to. Well, I kind of want to. No, that's not quite right. I want to be at a point where I feel like I ought to.”

“What holds you back?” He asked, handing you a bathrobe.

“The newness. It's only been a month or so. And I haven't really known you all that long in the first place. I'm still a bit overwhelmed by everything. It's a lot more manageable now though, don't worry.” You hurried to assure him. “It's like being back in school. School is pretty tough; you have to cram a lot into a day, but I did it nearly every day for like, twelve years. I can do it again.”

“Don't let me pile too much on you.” Loki warned. “You may have noticed, but I've been told I have a tendency to go slightly...overboard...with my planning.”

You slipped into the bath, grateful for the warm water. The mornings were definitely getting colder, the closer to November it got.

“We can slow down after Buridag.” You said. “There's a lot riding on the holiday. I want to do it right. As much as I possibly can.”

“You will be fantastic, my dear. The herald of a new era.”

“Yeah, that's part of the problem. You know that.”

“The people will grow to love you even more than they already do. With your dedication, how could they not?”

“Maybe. But they aren't looking at me through your eyes, Loki. I mean, you look at me and you don't seem to see how I could possibly fail, even though I very well could.”

Loki scooped water up into his bowl and doused himself with it.

“Not with me by your side.” He said firmly.

“Okay, but all those people out there might be looking at me and not see how I could possibly succeed without you by my side. Scooting me along, holding my hand, catching me when I fall.”

“But I'm supposed to do that-” He started.

“As a boyfriend, yes.” You interrupted. “But as someone in one of the highest positions in the kingdom, to another person in another of the highest positions? No, I don't think that sets a good example. If I can't do my deeds myself, won't I be seen as...huglausi? Incompetent?”

“No, no. That simply means to be somehow craven. Treacherous and cowardly. Trying and failing is not the same. It takes courage to try at all.”

“It's the failing part I'm most worried about. There's so many people to let down. I've never actually been in a leadership position, Loki. Not over children, not over pets, or my peers, or at school, or at work. I've never actually wanted it, and I'm not sure I'll be any good at it, no matter how much tutoring you give me.”

“Oh. I think I understand now.” He gathered you up into his soapy embrace. “You will not be asked to run this kingdom, fear not. Your main duties will be to me. Helping me with my work, and acting as support. Saga has taught you of this, has she not?”

“Yeah, it's just...Well, it seems like most of the Seidkonas we study also took on a lot of other duties. And we're seeing each other now, and everyone knows it, and I know everyone's thinking about how it went with your parents...”

“They are nostalgic. My parents were well matched, it's true. But we are not them, and we don't have to do things the way they did. No matter how many people wish to project the image of my mother onto you, you will always only be you, and I will always be me. We don't have to be like them, and you don't have to take on more than you feel capable of. Continue learning, continue training, and you will become capable of even more, but you will never need to take on everything yourself.”

“Okay.” You said, nestling into his chest. These morning baths took longer and longer every day, and it was obvious why. “I'm just worried, you know? Three months ago, it seemed like I had all the time in the world, but now it's like I could never have learned enough in such a short time.”

“I will admit that this is a bit rushed.” Loki said. “Normally, a Seidkona is in training for decades, if not centuries. Obviously, that won't work here, which is why I've had Saga try to distill things down to their  basic essence for you. You will only have to train for years.”

You sighed. More years of schooling. Well, hadn't you been a little jealous of your classmates that had gotten to go to college? This would just be like getting a special degree. On the bright side, you would be the only human to have that degree, at least for a while. Would that make you an automatic PhD?

“I know it might be better to wait until you have more experience, but this Buridag is of pivotal importance. We should set our new traditions as early as possible.”

“Well, I agree with that. I guess I just kinda wish it wasn't so much all at once. It's so much, Loki.”

He kissed your wet forehead.

“I'll slow it down after Buridag.” He promised. “We can dedicate different days of the week to different subjects. Or switch subjects each week. Whichever suits you best.”

“That sounds good. I would like some calm, quiet times too. I'm not used to so much adventure.” You swayed back and forth in his arms, the water lapping your skin in slippery comfort.

“I like it here.” You murmured. “Right here. It feels safe.”

You heard Loki breathe in sharply, felt his embrace tighten, and you looked up. His expression was...not exactly unreadable, but unfamiliar. But his perfectly sculpted cheeks had gone all red, and his eyes were suspiciously glassy, and you suddenly found yourself wondering if anybody had ever told him that he made them feel safe before.

“It's too bad my magic isn't about time travel.” You continued. “I'd just freeze time right here for a little while just so I could stay.”

“I feel the same.” He almost whispered. “Just here. Just us. No interruptions, no deadlines. Maybe sometime soon. Maybe a tour around Iceland? Just us, our horses, some tents?”

“Camping? I like camping. Can we do that?”

“If you would like to, yes. In the spring, when everything has thawed back out, and we are all tired of being cooped up inside, we can go out and see the wonders of this country together.”

Just you, him, and the horses. Spring in Iceland was beautiful, even from the small glimpses you had gotten. Just you and him, in a tent, under the sky. Firelight and starlight, the chill wind from the mountains, thick woolly blankets. Shared body heat.

“Let's do it. First day of Spring, let's pack up and go see everything!”

All you had to do was get through the winter.

                                                                          *****

Loki floated along on a buoyant heart. The trust you showed him, the vulnerability! The belief that he could do something about your problems; it was extraordinary.

Had he really done it? Had he really become someone worthy of the love of such a woman? Maybe not yet. He was still keeping secrets, after all. There was still much about his crimes that you didn't know. But soon, he would tell you. And then, he might be worthy. Maybe. He would have taken the first steps, at least!

He'd better figure out how to build that trust up fast, because learning these things was going to damage it. Learning that he was no Asgardian would be bad enough. How might you feel to discover that even the face he showed you everyday was a lie? You'd be in the right to demand to see what creature was really embracing you.

Would you be kind? Would you swallow down your bile at the sight of him, or would you be so overcome with disgust at the revelation that this was what had been kissing you, sleeping next to you, bathing with you, that you would flee from him?

Would you dismiss him and his nobility when he told you of how he had betrayed both of his fathers, and all of his people, usurping the throne and glorifying himself? Would you scoff at his humanitarian efforts and his care for the Asgardian people once you knew about his treasonous acts?

Would you still be here, once he told you about Jotunheim? His greatest, most heinous, most unforgivable crime? Would you even look at him, after that? Or would you disappear somewhere into the outskirts of the city, and never let him lay eyes on you again? He would deserve that. He couldn't even tell you that he was making amends. He had no way to do so. It wasn't as if he could take both sides of the great canyon and smash them back together. He couldn't restore the lives lost. He couldn't even take the throne and rule them as he was born to do: How could a frost giant ever trust him after what he had done to their entire world?

And how could you trust him, after these terrible deeds? The longer he waited the more you would love him, and the greater the betrayal would feel. He knew this. He had lived this! He couldn't possibly put you through it too.

He couldn't make you happy on a framework of lies. He knew this. All of his misery was based on such a framework; he knew how insidious it was. Learning these things was already going to hurt you, just hopefully not so much as to send you running. Perhaps he had already waited too long. Thor had been urging him to tell you, at least about his heritage, for some time now, and it was becoming clear from your ever-increasing affection that he couldn't put it off much longer.

A messenger approached him, a little out of breath.

“Sire.” She said. “The ice wall in the underground tunnels-they've broken through!”

“Thank you.” Loki replied. He'd almost forgotten, but he had told them to let him know as soon as they had reached the other side. “Let them know I will be down shortly.”

“I shall.”

As she turned to leave, a second messenger limped around the corner, leaning heavily against the wall as he approached. His left arm hung lifeless at his side, the shoulder collapsed in a crushed mess.

“M-my liege...” He stammered, barely above a whisper. Loki and the messenger rushed to his side.

“What happened?” Loki demanded, as the first messenger fitted herself under his good arm for support.

“Frost Giant...” He gasped. “In the ice tunnels. It woke up....rampaging...”

“Get him to the healers!” Loki ordered. A Frost Giant in the city! Where? Where? He had to find it fast.

What was it doing here? If it had been in the underground tunnels, sealed up in ice...Could it have been here since the time the Jotnar had invaded, a thousand years ago? That was the last time Jotnar had been on Earth.

Save for himself.

Rushing down the halls, he found evidence of the creature's passing in smashed objects and walls, in horribly still bodies. All leading to the interior of the palace complex.

To the library.

To you.

                                                                           *****

Today's lesson was on Alfar loan words, with Saga, and Asgard's most unwelcome guest instructor, Gloa. The smug brat had been asked along partly because her ever-present maidservant, Kolla, could actually speak and interpret several languages. You figured it was just another example of the lower class being even more savvy and skilled than the people who assumed to rule them, but Gloa actually seemed to be putting effort into teaching.

It's just that she was teaching a bunch of literal children, and you. And she utterly refused to engage with you. She didn't call on you, didn't address you, didn't look you in the face, even once.

Saga stayed at another table, taking notes, while other scholars hustled here and there for books, giving the class as much room as they could. None of them really paid you any attention, but you still found it a little humiliating to be put in the kids class, getting tutored by a political rival.

You got the feeling that Kolla was subtly tutoring Gloa as the class went on, cleverly steering her from subject to subject in her humble way.

Maybe you wouldn't eventually steal her away into your employ, after all. Not if she was doing the good work of helping Gloa develop into an actual person.

Strange noises and an odd thumping that you could feel in the floor made you look up from your notes, only to see that everyone else had noticed too. The whole library seemed frozen in place, silent, staring at the doors.

“I will check.” Kolla said quietly. Just as she reached the heavy wooden door, it flung open, ripped from its hinges, and slammed her to the floor, trapping her beneath it.

Gloa screamed, everyone screamed, as a huge and monstrous form shoved through the doorway. People ran past you as you stared, to the back of the library.

You had seen something like this before. This was a Frost Giant. Loki's little illusions had not truly prepared you for how massive they were. This one was three, four times your size, one arm encased in a sheath of ice that formed a club longer than you were tall. His head whipped back and forth, red eyes wide and wild. They landed on the children behind you.

You leaped up on a solid wood table between him and the kids, summoning your strength and concentration, you focused on the icy club as he lifted it over your head.

You couldn't teleport it off of his arm. It was like an extension of him, and he was simply too large to budge.

He brought the club down, and you threw yourself off the table just before it was smashed into splinters.

You jumped up onto the next closest table, knife in hand. The children were still in the giant's path, and you shouted at him, waving your woefully inefficient blade.

Magic wouldn't work; he was simply too big. And your little knife might not even penetrate his skin, but you had to keep him distracted. Someone must be coming.

A book sailed over your head and bounced off the giant's shoulder. He turned to you, snarling something, and Gloa leaped up on the table next to you, snatching books from the shelf and pelting him, shouting at the top of her lungs.

The giant charged at you swinging wildly. His club connected with a bookshelf, dropping it against the table, and blocking off the direction you had planed to jump. There was another bookshelf behind you, where Gloa was getting her ammunition, and children to the other side.

Nowhere to go.

The Frost Giant raised his club once more, you and Gloa clinging to one another in terror. In a blur of black and green, Loki flew through the air, to slam a dagger into both of the giant's shoulders. He let his weight drag the blades through the frigid flesh of the giant's back, overbalancing him, and sending him reeling backwards, arms flailing.

The Frost Giant roared in pain and fury; a sound cut short by the sudden detachment of his head by the flying arc of Stormbreaker. You flung your arm up instinctively, catching droplets of blood on your bare skin, and crying out as they burned you.

Gloa dashed away from you to her maidservant, trying to lift the massive door off her, as the Frost Giant collapsed, trapping Loki beneath him.

Commotion reigned: screaming, crying children, help pouring in from outside the library, Thor directing the wave of activity, until everyone was gone, and the library silent and empty.

But Loki was still under the huge corpse, and you rushed to his side. Or, you started to, before his voice rang out, slightly muffled, commanding you to stop in your tracks.

“You made a promise to me, _____!” He snarled. “What did you promise me?”

“Loki-”

“Don't come any closer! Even in death, this body is dangerous to you! What did you promise me?”

“That...That I would hide if I ever saw a Jotun...”

“And did you keep that promise?”

“But Loki-”

“Did you break your promise to me?”

“...Yes...”

He didn't understand. There were kids. And maybe you hadn't been all that effective, but you had kept the giant's eyes off of the children for just long enough.

“And what happened? You were injured again!”

“No, he didn't hit me! I'm fine!”

“I heard you shout!”

“Oh...The blood stung me. It's nothing, really.”

“It is not nothing, you little fool! That's undiluted frost magic! Left untreated, it can freeze your blood within your veins. There was a reason I extracted that promise from you, _____!”

“Loki, there were kids here!” You shouted in frustration. He sounded so furious, and no doubt he had been frightened for you, but you had a responsibility that even he couldn't deny.

“...Get to the healing wing.” He commanded. “Blood burns are no small matter. We will talk later.”

“Loki...”

“Go!”

You went.

[creampuffqueen]

Worlds of Fire and Darkness | Chapter Fifteen (Winnie/Cirrus)

Read this on Ao3 here! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! 

Cast of Characters

The aftermath of the terrible earthquake in the Summer Court.

Winnie POV

The world was standing still. Still and smooth as glass, or clear water, or fresh fallen snow. The world stood still even as it seemed to crash and burn at the same time. 

I was there, but not. Only the weight in my arms kept me there, in that place. The shadows writhed around me; I couldn’t keep them contained.

Saphira. Saphira Vanserra was curled in my arms, her soft brown hair tickling my chin. I couldn’t see her, but she was there.

Other people were around me as well. I could scent them, though the air was ripe with the stench of blood and vomit and piss as well. 

High Lady Vivianne was nearest to me, only a few feet away. She was holding Dain, little bitty Dain, tight against her chest. Neia, Tarquin and Arianna’s daughter, was further away, but still there.

Camille and Caliphe were gone. My cousins- gone. Where were they? How were they? 

A soft whimper drew me back to the present, a strong inhale that brought the wayward shadows careening back to me and started the world again.

The city was screaming. A deathly, unearthly howl came from below, from the people. 

The city was destroyed. The breath left me again in a gasp, my whole body seizing with the horror. 

People are dying, the shadows murmured in my ear. A female, trapped beneath a sheet of rock. A male was thrown off the dock and into the ocean, and so were tons of debris. A child-

“No more.” I snarled aloud. “I don’t want to know.”

The toddler in my arms was shaking. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream, didn’t shout. But she shook, violently. 

“Winnie!” Someone was yelling for me. But the screaming from below wasn’t stopping. It was louder, more horrifying.

People are dying.

“Winnie!” The scream came again, through the dust and destruction. Saphira’s small nails dug into my arm, her tiny body shuddering. 

My father. My father was the one yelling… Azriel didn’t yell. Elain didn’t yell. But there it was, my mother’s desperate scream joining my father’s. 

“I want my mama.” Saphira whispered. 

My feet were rooted to the floor. My wings drooped, dragging behind me, not able to protect me as dust caked in my hair.

Saphira started to cough. In front of me, I heard the small wheeze of Vivianne’s son, the baby not able to breathe in the cloud. 

“Winnie!” My mother’s howl cut through the gloom. Shadows swirled around me, and by some miracle, I got my feet beneath me and stood. 

As I stumbled forward, still holding the toddler in my arms, a smooth, sleek talon caressed my mental shields, tapping for entrance. It was incredible the shields in my head were up at all, let alone keeping anyone out. I allowed the daemati inside.

Winnie, My uncle Rhys’s voice filled my head, and I had to stop moving to focus. Let us know you’re all right. Use your shadows. Come to us. Your family is worried sick. And Cirrus…

He paused. Like he wanted to soften a blow of bad news.

You need to come quickly.

I couldn’t get enough focus to respond. I had always been awful with daemati abilities, and they were practically nonexistent. With the chaos raging around me, there was no hope for me to use them. 

Instead, I used my shadows. Focusing on them again brought forth a flood of information I didn’t want to deal with- the people dying, the ruined city. I blocked it out, and probed only the meeting hall. 

They tracked down my family easily. My father, he was first, like calling to like. His shadows wove around mine, a comforting blanket as he realized I was near.

My mother was close by, dazed, choked, but safe. She clung to Azriel’s arm, and my father wasn’t letting her go. 

A walk that should have taken moments was taking much longer. Far too long, far too treacherous. The only sign of fear Saphira showed was how she trembled. 

“Winnie!” My father was close, but his sudden call had me tripping over scattered debris. I barely managed to keep my balance, landing on one knee rather than my hands. Glass ripped through the thin fabric of my trousers, and I bit back a yelp of pain. 

“I’m here!” I shouted back, heaving myself upwards while still holding Saphira tightly. 

Only moments later, strong arms wrapped around me, and I heard the distinct sound of a sob.

My father was crying. 

I nestled my head against him, letting out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. He was okay. We were okay. 

Azriel led the way, still holding me tight. Elain held close to his other arm, though she’d taken Saphira from me, holding her in the comforting way only a mother could. 

We passed through a shield of wind, the magic causing my skin to tingle. Uncle Rhys’s magic, holding strong.

Our group was sorry looking. Nesta and Cassian, Nesta leaning against her mate in a rare moment of vulnerability, one hand clutching his and the other resting on her stomach, on the barely-visible bump of a growing child. 

Camille and Caliphe sat together, the eight-year-old curled up on her older sister’s lap. Feyre sat nearby, alongside Tess, who had Mireya’s head in her lap. The female was somehow more pale than ever before, her breathing rapid and shallow. 

Rhys was the only one standing, and even he looked worse for wear. Sweat dripped down his temple and neck, onto the ripped collar of his fancy shirt. His magic… 

It was draining him. The most powerful High Lord, his powers drained. A harrowing thought. 

I turned away. 

That was when I saw him. Prostrate on the floor, carefully positioned near his mother to keep him out of harm’s way…

Cirrus. Covered in blood. His own blood. Covered in his own blood.

It ran in red rivulets down his head, caking and drying on his neck and shoulders. Blood on his hands, his knees. 

“What happened to him?” I barely managed to choke out. 

“I don’t know.” Feyre whispered. “He, Tess, and Mireya found us. Mireya was already unconscious. He was fine one moment, and the next…”

“There are other people out there.” I addressed my family firmly, trying my hardest to keep my composure. “We need to get them, and help them.”

“The whole city is in ruins, Rhysand.” Azriel added. “The sooner we clear this up and find everyone, the sooner we can go help the people.”

Little Saphira, still in my mother’s arms, suddenly made herself known with a soft whimper. “I want my mama.”

“I know, darling.” Elain told her. “We’re going to find your mama and your papa. Your big brothers, too.”

“I want Daylor.” Saphira added. “Big brother.”

The mention of the Autumn Court male made my wings flare unintentionally, and I fought to bring them back. In the chaos, nobody noticed. 

“I’m going back out.” I snapped, my nerves already frayed enough. “Vivianne is out there, with Dain. And Neia, too. And we have no clue where Mor and Amren are.”

“Winnie, wait.” Azriel grabbed my arm before I could leave the relative safety of the wind barrier. My father gave Elain a pointed look. 

“When the earthquake hit,” My mother started. She gently set Saphira down, and the toddler clung to her legs. 

“I had a vision.”

Everyone sat up straighter at her words.

“You haven’t had a vision in years.” Nesta said. 

“I know.” Elain sighed. “My gift has been… silent, for a while now. But as soon as the quake started, so did the vision. If Azriel hadn’t been there I might have been killed by debris. I couldn’t move.”

“Have you ever had one that strong before?” Feyre asked. “I don’t remember your old ones rendering you immobile. Just dreamy for a minute.”

“It could have been shock.” Elain said with a shrug. “The quake, the vision. It doesn’t matter what happened then. Just what I saw.”

My mother closed for eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. Dragging the memories and the vision up, keeping the details fresh. 

“I saw a hawk.” She breathed, eyes still closed. “Brown and gray, but the tail feathers were rust-colored. It was ruffled, weak. It had been flying for a long time. It was tired.”

Elain took a breath, and continued. “Its eyes. They were… so strange. I’ve never seen a bird with eyes like it before. The brightest blue, ringed with gold…”

Her voice trailed off for a moment, and she whispered something I couldn’t hear. Her eyes snapped open.

“The fairest eyes from legends old.” 

“Where is that from?” Rhys asked, voice slightly strained. “I feel as though I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“Aunt Amren says that.” Caliphe piped up. “A rhyme, from one of her books.”

“Yes,” Nesta added on, “I think I’ve read it somewhere before.”

“There’s more.” Elain told us. She swallowed thickly.

“The hawk disappeared into the trees. And in its place, a swarm of bats swirled into the air. Everything was silent until then, but when the bats arrived… they were screaming, in human voices. They were terrified.”

“The bats were trapped. A cage, it came from nowhere. It trapped them all. And I was there, and I could do nothing to help…”

A tear rolled down my mother’s cheek. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping her in his arms as she dissolved into sobs.

“I don’t know what Elain’s vision means,” Feyre finally spoke, “but I know that we need to get up and try and make sense of what is happening now. Cirrus needs a healer, a proper one.”

“Can nobody heal him now?” Camille asked, brow furrowing. “Can none of us use our healing powers? I would do it, but…” her voice trailed off then. It was a sore spot for the teenager, really. Her powers aligned towards Summer, Day, and Spring, with none of the healing power of Dawn like her mother and brother had. 

Rhysand shook his head. “No, Camille. None of us can.” He took a deep, steadying breath after he spoke. “Something… is blocking my magic. Like a damper, but not quite. I can’t reach my powers.”

“I can’t either.” Feyre sighed. “It’s like the well of my magic has dried up. I have to reach so far down for just a drop.”

“My shadows are working fine.” I mentioned. “Tess, what about you?”

Tess shook her head. “Winnie, the shadows are a part of you. They’re different than magic.”

“But magic is also a part of you.” I argued back. “So why are my shadows working but everyone else’s powers aren’t?”

A soft groan came from where Mireya lay, and everyone’s gaze snapped to her. She shifted slightly, moaning in pain, eyes screwed shut.

“Mireya.” Tess murmured. “Mireya, can you hear me?”

The female gave a soft nod, slowly easing her eyes open. Her face was still pale, but at least she was awake. Her whole body shook as she gently pulled herself up to a sitting position, and the effort left her panting hard.

 “What…” She spoke thickly, as though her lips weren’t following her brain’s orders, “what is going on?”

“I’m going to get your mother and brother and bring them back.” I told her, before anyone could argue. “And I’m going to search for everyone else, make sure we’re all accounted for.”

“I should come.” Mireya tried to sit up further, only for the blood to drain from her face again. She laid back down in Tess’s lap.

“Stay here.” My cousin told her. “You’re weak right now. You passed out during the earthquake. Rest.”

While she didn’t look happy, she didn’t protest. Or perhaps she didn’t have enough energy to. 

I could tell my uncle was struggling to keep the shield up, and keep all the dust away. His magic wasn’t failing, but it certainly wasn’t cooperating. The sooner we found the others, the sooner we could get to cleaning up.

“I’m going with you.” Cassian said, giving Nesta a quick glance. My aunt nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“I’ll go as well.” Azriel added. “Two Shadowsingers are better than one.”

Together, with my father and uncle, we stepped outside the shield of wind. 

Almost instantly, I had to pull up my shirt to cover my nose. The dust was still thick, clouding around us and clogging in every place it could. Even with the face covering, all three of us couldn’t stop coughing. 

“This way!” I shouted, gesturing broadly, to where I remembered I had fallen first, when the ground started shaking. 

I let my shadows loose as we walked, their whispers filling my ears. The ground was unstable, and it shifted every so slightly with every step. Movement was difficult, as none of us wanted to bring down what was left of the palace.

After all, if the upper floors had sustained this much damage, I trembled at the thought of what had happened to the foundation. 

“Two High Lords that way.” Azriel said, having to raise his soft voice to be heard. He gestured in the opposite direction that we were headed, and I tensed at the decision being offered. 

“I’ll get them.” Cassian replied, relieving me of having to change course. “You two go get the others.”

My uncle shifted slowly to where Azriel pointed, walking away until all that could be seen were his dark wings flared wide. My father and I continued in the same direction, both of us silent as our shadows did their work. 

It was rare that I wished for powers other than my own, but in this instance, I would have given anything for the power of light or wind. Even my heightened Fae senses were useless in the clouds of dust, so thick that even the sunlight of the Summer Court couldn’t penetrate them. 

Without being able to see more than a few feet ahead of me, it was no surprise that I tripped- but this time, it was over a person.

I hauled the person upwards, my father stepping in to help me. It was Neia, her silvery hair caked with dust, and various scrapes covering her body from debris.

“Neia,” I said, gently pulling her towards me, “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Walk with me.”

The girl seemed to shrink in on herself, but she did as I asked, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. One of her shoes had come off, and her fancy embroidered tunic was ripped. 

We made our way back towards the larger group of people, and Neia’s breathing became labored, as if she were desperately reigning back sobs.

Finally, I could see Rhys ahead, but at that exact moment, Neia cried out, clinging to me as her hold finally slipped and she broke down. 

“Come on,” I urged, tugging her gently, “it’s only a few more steps. You’ll be safe.”

She just cried harder, choking both on her tears and the dust. 

Seeing her, just a child, so upset, so unraveled, got my already frayed nerves on end. I wasn’t sure how I wasn’t just like her, broken down and crying. I was detached, not all there.

And after all, this was her home. And it was completely destroyed. 

A few shadows twined with my own, the sign my father gave before appearing in my peripheral vision, supporting the High Lady of the Winter Court. The baby was tucked down her dress, keeping him away from the dust as much as possible. 

“Neia.” I coaxed. She was coughing now, in between sobs, and I couldn’t bear to just sit and watch. Carefully, I pulled her into my arms, carrying her bridal style the last few feet to the barrier. 

Inside, my mother greeted me, brushing the hair that had come free of my braid out of my face. She helped me ease Neia to the ground, then led her over to Caliphe and Saphira. 

Feyre still sat by her son, unwilling to leave his side. Camille had moved to crouch over him, violet eyes taking in the sight of her older brother. 

Moments later, Azriel and Vivianne arrived, and the latter nearly dropped to her knees in relief when she saw her daughter. 

“Mireya.” The young female couldn’t muster enough strength to lift herself from Tess’s lap, but she reached for her mother nonetheless. Vivianne wrapped her in a tight hug, and Dain peeked over the collar of her dress to peer at his sister. Mireya hugged him, too. 

“Feyre.” Rhys murmured, so soft I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him. But his mate cocked her head, and the two locked eyes, undoubtedly having a mental conversation. 

In some sort of understanding, Feyre moved over, allowing Rhys to come and sit by his son as well. The High Lady’s gaze and attention turned elsewhere, to a place I could not see, as I felt a flicker in the shield of wind. 

The only barrier keeping us all from the dust and destruction. 

My uncle’s face was pale and sweating, a sign of the effort to keep his magic going. If Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord, was struggling to use his powers, then how were the rest of us to fare?

In an answer to my question, Camille glanced over at me.

“It’s as though my powers have been locked away, Winnie. I can feel them, see them, but I can’t use them.”

Seeing my curious glance, my younger cousin shrugged. “It seems as though my Daemati abilities haven’t been affected, though. Your mind is wide open.”

I refused to dwell on that, instead listening to the whispers of my shadows.

People are dying in the city.

“Azriel.” Rhys said, gently combing fingers through Cirrus’s mussed hair. My father turned towards his High Lord.

“I need you to go to the Night Court, as soon as possible. I need to know if our home was affected by the earthquake as well.”

“I will go when I am sure that this city is being taken care of.” he replied softly. A small flash of annoyance in Rhys’s eyes, though it disappeared soon.

Before anyone could respond further, Cassian arrived, leading the two High Lords behind him. Thesan and Tamlin.

At the arrival of the High Lord of Spring, everyone tensed. Tamlin’s green eyes were steely, one of the only parts of him visible beneath the layers of dust.

“Thesan.” Rhysand started, and I could hear the strain in his voice, see the barely restrained curl of his lip as Tamlin surveyed the group. “Is there anything you can do for my son?”

The High Lord of Dawn hesitated for a moment, stepping closer to Cirrus. “What happened to him?”

“The same thing that happened to me.” Mireya answered softly. “He must have felt what I did. That tugging sensation, deep in my gut. I don’t know what it was.”

“He also hit his head.” Tess added. “I think he could be concussed.”

“My magic is… not obeying.” Thesan admitted with a wince. “I am struggling to use it. I could hardly reach it enough to heal my own wounds.”

So it wasn’t just the Night Court that was having issues with their powers.

Even with the declaration, Thesan still bent down to look Cirrus over. He placed a hand on his pale forehead, then traced down to where the blood still ran in a slow rivulet.

“All his wounds are only skin deep.” Thesan muttered, more to himself than any of us. “His own Fae blood should be healing him by now.”

“Our Fae blood should be healing all of us.” I snapped, feeling my temper starting to rise. Everything was all wrong, and I had stopped praying to wake up from a nightmare. Everything was all wrong, and everything was also undeniably real. “But it’s not. We don’t know why. Can you heal him or not?”

Thesan looked like he might be considering snapping back, but after a few moments, decided against it. “I can try my best.”

Holding his hands over Cirrus’s bloodied head, it took a long, silent minute before a faint glow began to emant from them, the light so soft it was hardly noticeable.

It took several minutes, minutes where we all waited with bated breath. A bead of sweat dripped down the male’s brow, sliding down and taking dust with it. 

And slowly, ever so slowly, the skin where the blood gushed out began to knit together, until fresh, brand new skin sat in its place, as raw and pink as the day he’d been born. 

“He will be sore.” Thesan panted, sitting back on his heels. “But it will not be as severe as if it were left untreated.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes met those of shimmering gold, sincerity lacing every word as he said, “Thank you.”

After another moment of silence, it was Tamlin who spoke this time.

“I need to find my son. And we must return home.”

“We all want to return home, Tamlin.” Feyre snarked, then took a deep breath, steadying herself and the shield of wind she now commanded. “But none of us will be able to if we don’t find the others and figure out the damage already done to the Summer Court.”

Tamlin gave a snarl, glaring at Azriel. “As if you weren’t already sending your Shadowsinger back to your hellish court.”

“I am not leaving until I am sure each and every person in this meeting is safe.” Azriel’s voice was low, dangerous. Tamlin just rolled his eyes.

The male’s bright green gaze landed on me, and his face twisted in a cruel smirk that had my blood boiling. 

“Or were you thinking of sending the youngling to do your spying for you? I do say, she is… quite small.”

“Yeah, and you saw with your own eyes how she kicked Autumn’s heir’s ass yesterday.” Tess snapped back. 

“Stop arguing!” Camille hissed, standing up and placing her small frame in between me and the High Lord. “We’re accomplishing nothing with this.”

“My daughter is right.” Rhys agreed, gently easing Cirrus to the floor and standing up. “Tamlin, you have control over wind. How about you put that to use and clear this dust?”

The High Lord of Spring’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. One of his hands tightened into a fist, and had I focused more, I might have seen the beginnings of those claws Aunt Feyre always talked about. 

Instead, I observed Tamlin’s face, allowing my shadows to twine around him, unabashed, gathering what information they pleased. Reaching so deep for his power, he could do little to protest. 

A breeze, flower scented and gentle, flowed around us, strong enough I could feel it even with the shield my Aunt kept up around us. The wind that was so at odds with Tamlin’s personality, soft and soothing to the male’s brash and rude demeanor. 

Whatever that power was, it worked, because the dust cleared, surely and steadily. A few bodies were uncovered, and other Fae were cleared into the open, dazed and confused, but still standing.

I didn’t bother wasting time just watching. Neither did the rest of my family. Even Aunt Nesta got up, and joined us to go gather the people. As the dust cleared further, even Feyre dropped the protective shield in favor of rescuing the others. 

I reached High Lord Tarquin first, where he stood with his wife, Arianna. Both looked dazed, but Tarquin’s face shifted into one of relief as he spotted Neia with us. The young girl stood and ran into her parents’ arms, sobbing all the while. 

More people were retrieved, various entourages of Courts. I rejoiced when Mor and Amren were recovered, thought the latter only snapped that we shouldn’t have been worried, and she could care for herself. 

Among the gathered people, I felt a flash of disappointment when Lord Eris emerged with a snarl. 

Though, of course, if he had died in the quake, that would mean that Daylor was the new High Lord of Autumn. I wasn’t quite sure how that made me feel. 

The feel of his skin on mine still remained in my mind, though buried far, far in the back. The sounds he made, the way he moved… all of it fresh, nearly demanding to be thought about. I refused to let those thoughts win. 

People are dying in the city.

All thoughts of the male died as the shadows crooned in my ear, nearly mocking. So rarely did they show personality, as they did now, and never before had they been so aggressive, so demanding.

People are dying. You must do something.

It took all my willpower not to hiss out loud. I glanced over my shoulder, to where Tamlin still stood, though his golden face was ashen. He looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. 

At least the dust was cleared. Though it revealed the full scope of the destruction. It was a damn miracle the floors this far up were still holding our weight. 

Nobody was speaking. The floors were so weak, we just might all crash to the ground if someone started an argument. 

Still, Eris spoke up.

“While I’m glad everyone is here and accounted for, we need to retrieve my sons. They were all still asleep in their rooms.”

“And I need to take care of my city.” Tarquin replied, his even temper worn short. “Get your sons, Eris, and head back to Autumn. In fact, everyone can head back to their courts. Survey your own damage. We don’t need extra people in the way.”

“Our meeting isn’t over-” The High Lord snapped, but was silenced when Tarquin held up a hand.

“I am one word away, Eris.” His voice was low, deadly, the normal gentle High Lord gone. “One more word, and I will drown you where you stand.”

Eris’s face went as red as his hair, and he snarled, only for his wife to place her hand on his arm, reigning him in. She glanced over at Saphira, in her arms, the little girl’s eyes wide. 

He backed down, incredibly. All eyes in the ruined hall were on him, and he knew it. Still, he glowered at Tarquin with lowered eyes. 

“Eris, let us help you get your sons.” Azriel spoke suddenly, and the tension in the room sparked. “It’s safer. We have wings.”

“As if.” The male hissed back. “Keep your Night Court filth away-”

“Please.” Eris’s wife spoke above him, voice desperate. “Find my boys. I don’t care what you must do. But you kept my daughter safe.”

Eris’s growl was guttural, but the female didn’t so much as flinch. 

“Bring my boys back to me, please.” 

She was desperate, I realized. A mother’s instincts, she would do whatever it took to have her children by her side and safe. No matter what her awful husband said. 

I was ashamed to admit I didn’t remember her name. Hadn’t bothered to, seeing as she was just another one of Eris’s playthings. A prized brood mare, to gift him as many heirs as possible. 

She’d done her job well. Three healthy sons, one healthy daughter. And she kept her place at Eris’s side, at his right hand. Perhaps she wasn’t as meek as I’d once assumed.

Azriel gave her a solemn nod, then turned to Cassian. Tess, who was still supporting Mireya, couldn’t come. Neither would Rhys or Feyre, so engrossed in caring for Cirrus.

There were three Autumn Court males. And two Illyrians.

Unless I went as well. I was strong enough to carry one of them. I met the eyes of my father, only to find him already looking at me in anticipation.

I nodded once.

That was all the confirmation he needed, and the three of us traveled deep inside the ruined palace, searching for the heirs of Autumn. 

~~~~

Neither my father nor my uncle questioned why I knew exactly where I was going. Even with most of the palace destroyed, I remembered the turns and twists and which way to go. 

I was both grateful and annoyed at the vast amount of windows in the Summer Court. On one hand, they provided lots of light, but on the other, shattered glass covered almost every surface. My knees barked in pain just at the sight of it. 

There was less dust in the hallways, thankfully. Enough for me to cough on, though. Most of it had already floated out the windows.

“We’re close.” I declared, as both my nose and my shadows alerted me. Loam and crackling embers, the unmistakable scent of Autumn. 

“Nasir and Alen are on that side of the hallway. Rooms nearby.” I gestured. “Daylor is right here.”

“Winnie,” Azriel started, but I was already pushing my way inside. 

The door closed behind me, and my father didn’t follow. I didn’t care. 

Daylor’s room was as opulent as mine. More so, even. As well, it looked wholly unaffected by the havoc wrought outside. The only indication something had gone wrong were the cracked windowpanes, and the pictures on the wall that were tilted oddly. 

And, of course, the male that was sitting on his bed, a silent observer.

“Your father made it sound like you were half dead.” I remarked, still standing by the door. “But you look pretty coherent to me.”

He gave me an insufferable smirk, crossing his arms. It was really unfair how attractive he was. It was unfair that one look took me back to the night before, where he’d had me pinned to the same bed… 

“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked, unable to keep the snarl from my voice. “It’s been chaos in the meeting hall. People are dying down in the streets, and yet you’re still just sitting here.”

He didn’t respond for a long moment, didn’t uncross his arms. Eventually, he took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Is Saphira okay? And my mother?”

I gave him the same treatment, and kept silent, even as my instincts screamed at the cruelty of keeping him in the dark.

“Your mother is fine. Organized the search party, actually.”

He snorted. “I’d hardly call one winged girl a search party.”

I picked at my nails, pretending to be bored. “I believe the word you used yesterday was half-breed.”

The smile turned predatory. “And I believe the word you used yesterday was bastard.”

“None of that matters now, Daylor.” I said back, refusing to fall for the bait he offered.

“Of course, Elowen.” He was testing me, seeing how far he could push before I snapped. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

His eyes narrowed again, and he asked another question. “What about Saphira? Is she alright?” 

A weak spot on the impenetrable heir of the Autumn Court. He cared for his little sister, even more than for Eris, his High Lord and his father.

“She’s fine.” I could almost see the sigh of relief. “Didn’t even cry when the quake happened. She’s resilient, that one.”

Daylor’s handsome face tightened at that, a glare forming, though not aimed at me. The expression lingered for hardly half a second, but I still could see it plain as day. 

At the question no doubt evident on my own face, he scowled. “Saphira doesn’t cry. Hasn’t for years.”

There was a story behind that, I was sure. But right now… I suddenly became starkly aware of the situation again. I hated him for it, for the way he could get me off task so easily, distract me so thoroughly. Hell, the entire city was in ruins, and here we were, discussing his younger sister’s habits.

“We need to leave. Get off the bed and come with me.”

Daylor glanced down at the ground. “If I move, this entire floor will collapse beneath us.”

I sent my shadows out, and stiffened at the information they retrieved. Correct, Daylor Vanserra was. He couldn’t move from the bed, for if he did, yet another part of the palace would crash to the earth.

A small spark of panic surged inside me, and I shoved it down quickly. No time to panic. Time to think. 

“We don’t have all day, Elowen.” Daylor snarked. I sent a withering glare his way.

“Maybe try and come up with an idea to save yourself, then, if you’re in such a hurry. You know, instead of sitting on your ass for hours.”

I stepped forward, one foot, two feet… the floor gave a loud groan, and I hopped back. A crackling sound came from beneath the plush carpet, no doubt the floor getting ready to give way.

Think, Winnie, think.

I watched as Daylor slowly rose to his feet on the bed, tall enough that he could touch the blue-painted ceiling. He shifted from foot to foot, brushing his hands through his hair in a manner that could almost be considered anxious.

“Stay still.” I hissed through gritted teeth. “This floor is seconds away from collapsing.”

And he listened. I didn’t have time to take in, however, when the floor groaned again, this time sagging right in the middle. When that part went, so would the bed. 

Daylor would have to be one lucky bastard to survive that drop. And considering everyone in the meeting hall had survived the earthquake, I was pretty sure our luck was running low. 

I didn’t know what to do. I was trapped, far away, with the only exit being the door behind me. My shadows were writhing, collecting information, but nothing of use. 

People are dying.

“I know.” I muttered back, “I know.”

“What?” Daylor snapped, crossing his arms again. I ignored him.

I was still mulling over my choices, when, suddenly, the door behind me slammed open. I stepped forward out of shock, my entire foot going right through the floor.

“Winnie!” Azriel roared, but I was already moving. Ripping my foot away, I sprinted to the bed, throwing myself upon it. I didn’t have any more time to think. Just time to move.

Daylor shouted profanities as I grabbed him, scooping him into my arms just like I had done with Neia earlier, though it took more effort. 

Crashing sounded behind us, but I didn’t dare look. Instead, I hurled myself off the bed, keeping the male secure in my arms.

The balcony door. It was unlocked, though it didn’t matter, as I smashed through it anyway. Glass exploded around us, and I heard screams, smelled blood, but I didn’t care.

I jumped right off the balcony. I heard Daylor’s roar, one of raw terror, but I didn’t slow. We hurtled towards the ground, the wind shifting the shards of glass deeper inside my skin.

At the last second, I flared my wings wide, a roar of my own on my lips. We soared upward, catching the wind, the sky somehow an open, endless blue, even with the destruction below us. 

The wind rippled my hair out of my face, and I breathed the first deep, true breath I had in a while- and I could have enjoyed it further, if it weren’t for the Autumn Court male’s screaming.

Turning back towards the ruined palace, I bit back a yelp of pain as one of the shards of glass dug further into my skin. But it was soon lost in a gasp of horror as I saw the palace from above.

Where we had just left was entirely caved in, floors and floors sliding down the side, still crashing. 

My father was still in there.

I blocked out the blind terror that threatened to overtake me, taking in another deep breath. I angled us toward the meeting hall, though every part of me begged to be down in the city, where the scent of terror and despair was pungent. 

It didn’t take long for us to arrive back at the palace, with the speed my wings could take me. The glass was growing more painful by the minute, and I knew I needed to stop and get the shards removed. 

Everyone was silent as we landed. Every single person, even the littlest children. I practically dumped Daylor onto the floor, but the male managed to keep his balance through sheer luck. 

I met the eyes of Eris first. The perpetual scowl, the anger, was still present. In fact, he looked more resentful of me than usual. Even as his son stumbled over to him. Injured, but alive.

His wife spoke to me instead, her littlest child still wrapped up in her arms.

“Thank you.”

I gave her a stiff nod in return, as every movement sent a spark of pain through my body. 

Rhysand met me next, pulling me towards him. 

“Winnie,” he murmured, “what you just did was incredibly stupid, and incredibly brave.”

“Brave and stupid, my two middle names.” I joked. 

“I’m going to get Thesan to heal you.” He continued, though he cracked a small smile.

“Don’t bother.” I insisted. “Just help me get the glass out, and I’ll be fine.”

My uncle gave me a look, but didn’t press. Just led me away from the commotion, to a quieter part of the destroyed meeting hall.

“Where are Cassian and Azriel?” I asked as Rhys worked, gently pulling shards of glass from my body with a pair of tweezers he’d summoned from… somewhere. I almost dreaded his answer. 

“Alive.” He answered. “And well. I feel them. Neither is injured.”

I tensed, biting my lip as a particularly long shard was removed. “I just worried. Azriel startled me, and that made half the palace crumble…”

Oh gods. I’d just crushed half the palace. All for one measly male, a Vanserra at that. 

“No,” Rhys soothed, “you did not bring half the palace down. Just one wing. And it would have fallen anyway, Winnie.”

“Still.” I muttered, shifting awkwardly where I sat. 

We sat in silence for another few minutes, the only noise being the bits of glass pulled from my skin. Blood dribbled from a few of the gashes, though none of it was nearly as bad as Cirrus’s head had been.

When all the glass was gone, Rhys pulled a roll of bandages from the pocket between worlds, wrapping up the most bloody wounds. Thankfully, none of the glass had pierced my wings, leaving most of the bandages to be wrapped around my arms and legs. 

The shadows sensed them before I did, this time. I turned to glance up at my father as he arrived. Caked in more dust, but no other visible injuries.

“Winnie.” Azriel breathed, sitting down and pulling me close, though gentle on my fresh injuries. “Thank the Cauldron you’re okay.”

“I thought you might have gotten crushed when the floor collapsed.” I whimpered, allowing my father to hold me.

“No, no.” he insisted. “Winnie, I was so worried- you jumped out of a window, for Cauldron’s sake!”

“I’ve got wings, dad.” I chuckled. “And I’m fine. Did you and uncle Cas get the others?”

Azriel nodded. “Nasir was still out cold. Alen was up, but didn’t know where to go. Both of them are fine now.”

Rhys glanced between us, violet eyes calculating. He was up to something, starting a scheme.

Sure enough, he stood up, offering me a hand up. Azriel stood up as well, brushing the dust off his pants, then looked up suddenly.

They were talking using their minds. A secret, easy communication that was impossible to overhear, not with the way both of their minds were guarded. 

“What are you talking about?” I hissed, keeping my voice as low as possible. My father and uncle shared another glance, before my father gave a short, sharp nod.

I’m sending Azriel on a mission. Rhys said into my mind. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. Cirrus and Mireya getting sick, struggling to reach our magic… this isn’t a normal earthquake.

He was right. But… 

Let me go with him. I demanded. It took everything in me to send back just one sentence, but I was determined. I needed to find out what was wrong, who was behind this.

You suspect foul play. Rhys commented. It’s a possibility.

Winnie, you are not going. Azriel sent back. If it is foul play, I don’t want to put you at risk. 

I can take care of myself, I thought angrily. I’m strong, and none of my powers were weakened. I need more experience, anyway.

More shared glances, more unspoken conversation. I had no doubt that my uncle had just read my mind, and was now relaying the message back to my father. I just had to hope he’d convince him. 

You can go. Rhys finally said. But Azriel says that if there is even a sign of danger, you leave immediately. 

Okay. I could work with that. I gave my uncle and father a bright grin, smiling wider when Azriel returned it. 

I want you both to leave as soon as possible. Get out of here before anyone questions it. Head back to Velaris, get supplies you need, and go out again. I’ll take care of things here.

“Can I at least tell Tess? And my mother?” I whispered, mind too exhausted to attempt more mental speaking. Rhys nodded.

Quickly.

I nodded, turning away from our small group to the larger one, where I could spot my cousin still with Mireya, keeping her up.

The Winter Court heir was looking better, but not fully recovered. She still looked shaky on her feet, evident by how she was leaning on Tess. 

“Tess!” I called, and she looked over. I stepped closer, close enough to breathe into her ear, “I have to leave. My father and I are going on a mission.”

She nodded quickly, turning back to her friend. Tess and I both knew how important secrecy was on a normal day, but this was even more so. If the other courts found out, I knew there would be a big debate. 

I met her eyes again, hazel meeting hazel. “You take care of the people down there, Tess.”

Another nod. “I will. Good luck.”

Mireya glanced between us curiously, but didn’t comment. And I turned away, seeking out my mother for one last goodbye. 

That was when the shout came, the distinct voice of my little cousin, Caliphe, yelling across the room.

“Cirrus is waking up!”

Cirrus POV

Every part of me hurt. My legs, my back, my head. 

Great Cauldron, my head. 

Blinking against the harsh sun through the shattered windows, I let out a groan that sounded pathetic, even to me. I could already tell that just sitting up was going to be a trial. 

And… the odd, tugging sensation deep in my gut was nearly gone. Before, it had been so intense I couldn’t stand up straight, had puked up my breakfast. Now, it had disappeared, as suddenly as it came. 

All of this information, before I even took a proper look around. 

The lights were too bright, and I screwed my eyes shut tighter. Still, I couldn’t block out the hazy shadows above me, accompanied by the familiar scents of my family.

Caliphe, more specifically. 

“Wake up, sleepy-head.” My little sister demanded. I gave another undignified groan, my head giving a throb of pain from the noise.

“Can’t- get… up.” I mumbled through stiff lips, my tongue dry. “Water…”

“He wants water!” She called, her loud voice causing me to wince again. 

Comforting arms wrapped around me, my mother’s scent flooding my senses. She gently pulled me into her lap, as if I were no more than a child, careful of my aching body.

“Drink this.” She coaxed. I cracked my eyes open enough to take in the glass she offered me. How she found a cup of water in the chaos surrounding us, I didn’t know. But I sipped from it gratefully. 

Every part of me felt… off. Fuzzy, like a dream.

I had dreamed, when I was unconscious. Flickering flames, shifting from red to orange to gold in an instant, embers crackling loudly. 

Strange dreams were the least of my problems, however. Even the odd ache in my gut that had disappeared wasn’t as concerning as the destruction all around us. 

I took another sip of water, mentally checking myself over. Head? Throbbing. Body? Aching. And my magic… 

Subdued.

“I can’t reach my magic.” I said dumbly, glancing around at my friends and family. “Something is wrong.”

“I know.” Feyre soothed. “It’s happened to all of us. Don’t use your magic right now, Cirrus. Let yourself recover some more.”

“But… my magic.” My mind couldn’t compute. Magic had always been at the tips of my fingers, at my beck and call. I could switch from water to wind to light in an instant, power flooding out of me.

It was still there. All of it was. Just… pushed deep inside of me. Coaxing up even something small, like a drop of water, would be an effort, I could already tell. 

And the strange damper was affecting everyone. It seemed like a miracle that the glamour on my wings still held strong. For little Caliphe, hers was gone, Illyrian wings on full display. 

“We need to get out of here.” My father urged. “Azriel, I want you and Winnie to take Cirrus back home. Let Madja care for him.”

“I don’t need to be coddled.” I snapped. “I know that there are people who need our help. Don’t push me away.”

“You can’t even stand right now, son.” Rhys deadpanned. “You’re going home.”

After another moment’s hesitation, he gestured to my littlest sister. “Take her as well. She’ll only get underfoot.”

“Hey!” Cali protested, but her demands fell on deaf ears. 

“Why are uncle Az and Winnie leaving, anyway?” I interrupted the oncoming tantrum to ask my cousin a question.

“I want to make sure the Night Court hasn’t been affected.” My father responded evenly. 

And I want them to search for the source. The quake wasn’t a normal one, that’s for sure.

I gave a brisk nod, not feeling confident enough in my powers at the moment to respond mentally. I trusted Azriel and Winnie. They’d find the culprit, and they’d figure out how to get our powers back fully. 

“We should get going.” Azriel said softly. “Sunset is nearly upon us.”

He was correct. The sun was dipping towards the west, and I knew that soon, the sky would be filled with the brilliant pink and orange of a Summer Court sunset. 

It had been late morning when the earthquake had happened. How long had I been passed out?

Everyone looked uncomfortably between each other, but said nothing. Instead, Rhys nodded to my uncle.

“Safe travels, brother.”

Winnie took my hand, in preparation for winnowing, while Azriel grabbed Caliphe. My sister looked put out, but didn’t complain. 

“Take care of yourself, Cirrus.” My mother whispered, giving me one last soft squeeze. She cracked a forced smile. “And don’t let your sister eat too many cookies.”

“We should all be home soon.” Rhys assured me. “But I want to help Tarquin’s people. Their city was destroyed in the earthquake.

A spark of hatred flashed through me, for my father making me leave, not letting me help. Innocents were dying, losing their homes, and I was being toted back home, nothing more than a wayward child.

But I didn’t have enough energy to be angry. So I just nodded.

“Let’s go.” Azriel said gently. Winnie squeezed my hand once, and then we were gone, squeezed through the pocket between worlds, suffocating for just a second. 

And I found myself sitting in the living room of the River House, my cousin by my side. Azriel and Cali sat on another part, my little sister still pissed from being taken from the action. 

I took a deep breath, keeping the ache at bay. My head was pounding again, and I shut my eyes against the light.

“I’m getting Madja, and then we’re leaving.” Winnie told me. I nodded vaguely, not quite hearing her.

The sound of fire crackled in my ears, and I sat up straight, surprised to find no flames near me. Visions danced before my closed eyes, flames of glittering gold far too close to my face.

That heat felt real, yet it wasn’t. 

“Aunt Lainey had a vision.” Caliphe said bluntly, crawling across the couch after Azriel and Winnie left. My cousin to get the healer, my uncle to gather supplies.

“What about?” 

“I don’t remember everything,” my sister shrugged, “but I know she saw a bird. A hawk, I think. Then aunt Nesta and uncle Rhys talked about aunt Amren’s books for a while.”

“Not much to go off, huh.” I muttered dryly, and Cali shrugged again. 

Winnie was back, Madja at her side. I reigned in my groan at being coddled, yet again, as the older female came over to examine me.

“Winnie!” Cali said suddenly, jumping up. “What was the rhyme aunt Lainey said? About the blue eyes?”

After a moment of thought, my cousin answered. “The fairest eyes from legends old, the brightest blue, ringed with gold.”

Caliphe nodded, satisfied, while fire flickered at the edge of my vision at her words. 

“Winnie, let’s get going.” Azriel called after his daughter. “As far as I’m aware, nothing in Velaris is amiss. We check out the rest of the Night Court, and we keep going.”

Madja glanced up from where she’d been fussing over the cuts on my knees. “If you will, Lord Azriel, not everything is fine. My magic has been weakened.”

The color drained from my uncle’s face. “Here, too?”

Madja nodded. “It’s still there, but hidden. Hard to reach.” Looking over me once more, she continued, “So I’ll give you a tonic for the pain, my Lord.”

“Then our mission has become more important.” Azriel sighed. “Winnie, finish up. The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

My cousin didn’t object, slinging a skin of water over her shoulder as well as a small pack of other supplies. Azriel was prepared similarly, and both of them had shadows weaving over their shoulders.

Shadowsingers, the both of them. Some of the only magic that didn’t seem to be affected.

Madja gave me a small, sweet-smelling tonic while she went to work wrapping bandages over my legs. Winnie as well was covered in them, but whatever had caused her to need them couldn’t have been too bad, if she was still being allowed to go with her father. 

“I’ll look into that rhyme while you’re gone.” I told her. “You said it might be found in Amren’s books, right?”

Winnie nodded. “Yes. You might want to look at more than that. See if there’s a way to weaken power in a long range.”

She leaned in, squeezing me tight. I returned the hug, as did Caliphe, until Azriel gave a pointed cough.

“Stay safe.” I warned. “You don’t want to leave Tess to beat up all the Illyrian males by herself, do you?”

Winnie gave me a wicked grin as she stepped away. “I wouldn’t dream of it. She can’t have all the glory.”

She stepped away, and I took a sip of the tonic. Clasping hands with her father, the two of them winnowed away, leaving no trace behind.

Cauldron keep them safe, I prayed. 

Outside, starlight shone in through the windows. In the short time we’d been in the River House, night had fallen, leaving the only light to be what reflected off the rippling Sidra.

I wrapped an arm around my little sister, sending up a few more prayers while I finished off my tonic. For my family, my friends, for the ruined Summer Court.

More flames, at the back of my mind. My gut gave a soft tug in answer. I ignored it, staring out the window instead.

The brightest blue, ringed with gold.

Instead of those, eyes of piercing forest green stuck in my mind. More fire. A flicker of lightning, a breath of wind. Another tug in my stomach.

Fly fast, Winnie.

~~~~

And there it is! What did y'all think?

Any more guesses on what caused the earthquake/strange sickness/disappearing magic? I mean, it's probably really obvious, but I just love hearing y'alls opinions!

In the scene where Winnie saves Daylor, there's a little bit of something there... a hint of his true self... hm

The next ACOTAR chapter will probably be only Winnie, unless I decide to change something and include another POV... we'll see. Do y'all like the multiple POVs or single POVs more?

As for the next chapter... I won't tell you anything except the Sygan kiss will finally happen. No more info. I will just say, it's going to be intense.

Love y'all! I really hope you liked this chapter!

Comment to be added or removed from the tag list

@queen-of-glass

[immortalfantasies]

I knew my FATE was sealed after what happened with Master Windu, but it was NECESSARY to save Padme. When the Chancellor said about Darth Plagueis, I knew that it was possible to keep her from dying and save our child. The only way to learn these DARK ABILITIES, is to commit myself to DARK DEEDS. Thus, I destroyed the Jedi Temple. I stopped the Jedi from growing more powerful than they already were.

With the attempt on the Chancellor's life, I should have been more solid on my choice, but I feel I may have chosen wrong. I can still hear the SCREAMS of the younglings. They were so afraid. I could have used the power that I had to allow them to ESCAPE, but I didn't.

I had to save her. I remember how I had to hide the feelings that I had about the terrible deeds. I would never be able to tell her, she could never know what I did to save her. But knowing Obi-Wan discovered what happened and told her, I could not hide from it and my deeds were on full display.

I am a MONSTER, and I love my wife as the monster I am. I cannot bear the loss of my wife, but I must also save my EMPIRE for her. I am powerful, more powerful than the Chancellor. I could rule the galaxy, destroy him and Padme would be my EMPRESS. But Obi-Wan turned her against me, told her of the VILE CRIMES I had committed in her name. I will save her and show her that I am not the monster that has been shown to her.

But I must DEFEAT him. My master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. This will be the moment where I prove that I was more powerful that even he could withstand. After this fight, we were both exhausted, him more so, as I could increase my power with the force. "This is the END for you, my master," I snarl, hoping to spark just a bit of ANGER in him to throw him off his guard.

He raises his saber in DEFENCE. I jump over his head and land on the edge of the walkway above the treacherous lava river below us, catch my balance and swing as though my life depended on it. Blow after blow after blow as sabers CLASHED. I go to swing low, and Obi-Wan jumps away to the bank of the river, my swing carrying through. He lands gracefully on top of the ash and gravel as I use the force to stop the walkway from continuing down the river.

"It's over Anakin! I have the HIGH GROUND!" he yelled, his breath labouring. I couldn't believe that he would allow the fight to be over on a TECHNICALITY. He didn't allow for his fight with Maul to be ended with a technicality. He used the FORCE as his ally to defeat that apprentice of Darth Sidious, while he held the high ground. No, the same would happen here. "You underestimate my power."

I cannot be defeated. I am the power of the force itself. He shakes his head, and shouts "Don't try it," as I prepare to end this once and for all. I jumped through the air, with an extra push off the walkway. All of the FAILURES that he caused rush through my mind. He held me back so that I would fail, so that his failure that I would be the projection of all of his failure. I block his stroke as I land behind him and use the FORCE to knock his balance off so he can't react fast enough. I was the failure he CREATED, so now I push his final failure through his chest. 

As my former master falls to the ground, I feel as twinge of SORROW, but now the Jedi's failure is COMPLETE, and the rise of the Empire can commence. But one thing remains to ensure it was worth it: PADME.

As I return to the landing pad, I see her MOTIONLESS at the base of her ships ramp. I hold her in my arms and listens for her breathing, but it is QUIET. No. No please don't go. Please don't make this all for not. I close my eyes and place my hand on her stomach, and the child is still alive. Now all is left is to save Padme. I breathe deeply, all I have to do is focus, I have to try and save her, I have to at least try. As the sound of engines ring over me, a breath of relief comes over me. Maybe we can REMEDY everything at the same time, I think to myself.

The Royal Guards walk down in standard two by two form and walk to the sides of the ramps base to allow the EMPEROR a barrier of safety. "Master, please aid me in this, I need your help to save her, I think I have unlocked the secrets to this power." He walks to my side. "My APPRENTICE, you are the most powerful student I have ever had. Surely, you have learned what you need to for this TASK," he asserts. "Yes, I have MASTER," as I move my saber to his abdomen activate it, "and your SACRIFICE shall give me back my wife." I draw the lifeforce from my former master and transfer it to Padme. She breathes, and I raise my saber to deflect the blaster from the Guards, who stand loyal to the fallen Palpatine. They fall within a matter of SECONDS and lay with him.

Padme, opens her eyes, and looks to me, her husband, with FEAR. "Why did you do all of this?" I feel relief that it worked, but I'm worried that I will never be able to forgive myself for the DEEDS that led to this moment. Let alone how she will see me FOREVER. "I wanted to save you, and I know that you are repulsed by the methods I used to achieve this, but I have succeeded." While he knew that he was not in the right by every decision that he had made, he hoped that he could possibly help her to see it from his side. "Did you feel as though I could not see the DARKNESS that you had created?" She would never forgive him so he wanted to have the closest thing to forgiveness from her as possible: COMPROMISE.

"I couldn't stop it, and I'm sorry. I don't expect your FORGIVENESS, but I wish for you to help me to make this as right as possible. I want you to CONTROL what we can fix. Would that be enough to earn a form of forgiveness from you?" I hope not to LOSE her, now that I have found a way to stop her from dying, and with Palpatine dead, now I can steer the GALAXY in the proper direction with Padme by his side. "How can we return to a form of NORMALCY after everything that you have done in his name? You may say that you have done this to SAVE me, but you knew the POWER you would gain from these actions. These actions where you went against the TEACHINGS of the Jedi and slaughtered them in order to gain the ABILITY to save me alone? I will not stand by and allow you to destroy DEMOCRACY with an iron fist of control over the galaxy. If this is the PATH you will take, I will not be a part of it."

I have no words. I feel BETRAYED, but I cannot take action against the person whom I have done all these actions for. How do I react? What step do I take forward? How do I continue WITHOUT her? All these questions and more that I have spin around my head and I have no way to answer any of them. But the biggest question that I have: Can I let her LIVE? It pains me to think of a world without her, but I am afraid that if I let her live she will teach our CHILD that I am a monster. That I only seek to increase my power. She moves to her ship and looks over her shoulder at me. "You'll let me leave, because I have no DESIRE to stay here."

What can I do? She is the LOVE OF MY LIFE, and I must accept that my actions have driven her away. She boards her ship, and LEAVES without another word. I am questioning my actions. I have destroyed so much to finish with nothing. I return to my former master on the bank of the lava river where I slayed him in UNFAIR COMBAT. "I'm sorry Master, I should have known better." I pick him up and bring him to Palpatine's ship.