#the top of the central tower floor makes a lot more sense if you know the walls are meant to be accessible for flooding btw.

[bellshazes]

@BdoubleO100 The Crastle still stands and will stand for another century! Here is a 12 picture guide if you want to build it.

here's the Crastle diagrams I used in the anatomy of a crastle - Bdubs shared these on twitter shortly after 3rd Life ended. interestingly, the screenshots included (of what must be his original creative design) differ very slightly, such as a small chimney on the central turret roof.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Merging multiple species into society

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Across the landing field the ground crews were in frantic motion. Landing pads that had been used as temporary supply dumps were cleared, refugees and civilians were moved up for transport off world, and for the first time in seven months the Galaxian base commander braided his face tentacles.

From his office overlooking the entire compound, Commander Zavar kept watch of the progress from the corner of his eye while his main focus was on the mirror in front of him. Carefully observing his reflection he intertwined the several dozen chest length tentacles that grew just beneath his jaw into elegant patterns.

He hadn’t bothered to for the last few months as the braiding of tentacles was meant to show a sign of respect. A Galaxian with unbraided tentacles was essentially stating that whomever they spoke with they held them in low regard. Zavar hadn’t braided them for some time as he felt no need to show signs of respect to anyone under his command.

It had been months since the landing base was established with the intent to use it as a jumping off point in new offensives. When Zavar had been given command he felt that he would be helping bring an end to this bloody conflict by maintaining such a crucial facility. Yet just as the offensive was about to begin their enemies decided to launch a massive counter offensive on an entirely different continent. In short order the manpower which had been set aside for the Galaxian offensive was pulled away to mount a rapid defense and halt this no enemy offensive.  

One by one troop ships stopped coming to his base and requested materials became increasingly diverted to other theaters of the war until finally this once crucial launching point became nothing more than a gas station for passing supply ships.

He grimaced as he made a wrong twist while braiding remembering his degrading morale and the effect it had on those under him. The drive that had once fueled Zavar was sapped away by months of repetitive supply transfers and paperwork, and this soon turned to ever laxening of base discipline among the work crews. When Zavar��s second in command came to him with information that several of the crews had taken an abandoned storage building and had turned it into an entertainment club of sorts, all he did at the time was put on his military cap and take a walk over to it for a drink himself.

That had all changed last night when in the middle of darkness moon Zavar had received an offworld communication from central command. After weeks of careful negotiation the human government they had agreed to join the war effort on the Galaxian side. A substantial force of at least four of their divisions had already arrived in system and would be sending down a battalion of 500 soldiers to further secure and expand Zavar’s base.

Within moment of the calls end Zavar had ordered all of his crews to standby and began issuing orders with renewed fire. As Zavar finished braiding his tentacles and looked out across his base he saw all of the landing pads had been cleared, and with moments to spare.

A loud rumbling could be heard and Zavar could feel the room slowly vibrating as he looked to the clouded skies.

Breaching through the murky grey clouds that had covered the sky for weeks Zavar saw a human landing craft. It was a bulky black mass of metal with a design reminiscent of an overweight bird Zavar thought as it slowly descended towards the base. He was slightly disappointed in the lacking design aesthetics of the human craft, but he had remembered that these transports were designed for carrying large amounts of troops to safe areas rather than enemy held landings. Zavar watched it for a few moments more before leaving his office and making for the landing pads.

It was a short ride from his office to landing pad three were Zavar met his second in command already waiting with a small detachment of honor guard. He exited the vehicle just as the landing craft set down sending gusts of wind out from the engines as they slowly died down.

As Zavar took his place at the head of the honor guard the loading door of the transport popped open with a loud thud and began to lower.

He had heard stories of humans before, how they were great warriors of the highest caliber, that their reflexes were heightened to such a level in the heat of battle they could see an enemy from miles away, that they could lose limbs and heal after a period of time only to forge new ones and return for more combat; truly these beings would bring a swift end to this war.

The ramp finally touched the surface of the landing pad and Zavar could finally see inside of the transport. What he saw rather surprised him however…..

At the top of the ramp stood several ranks of human soldiers dressed in combat gear, but at the head of them was a uniformed Kliptec; their serpent body draped across the decking of the craft.

Zavar cast a side long glance at his second who looked as dumb founded as Zavar was feeling before looking back at the Kliptec. Their upper body was humanoid in shape, yet they bore more hallmarks of a reptile. Scaled skin, slit like eyes, sharpened fingers, and in place of feet was a roughly six foot long tail.

As the Kliptec slithered down the ramp towards Zavar and the front ranks of humans followed Zavar was greeted by further confusion. Mixed in with the humans soldiers Zavar noted several other species not native to the human worlds.

A Draxic casually stomped forward with the ranks appearing to carry some form of heavy weapon casually over their shoulder, a Flinchestet with a communication device glided across the decking as if its limbs could not be bothered to touch the floor, a Valmorian with a red cross painted across their helmet stood alongside a Combra whose face had been ritually scared for the coming battles; but most surprising of all was the towering figure at the very back of the transport.

A hive warrior drone draped in the uniform of humanity. It held no weapon between its claws but Zavar was positive it would have no need of such a device to rip through the lot of them. Some of the honor guard made let out whimper of fear and one even went so far as to start to bring their weapon to bear.

With only a look Zavar’s second command was at the guard’s side and snatched the weapon from his hands in a single motion.

“Be. Calm.” Those two words were all he said to the guard before returning to his place next to Zavar, the weapon he had taken from the guard clutched at his side.

His men looked at their commander with silent awe as they saw Zavar look unphased at the sudden turn of events. Instead of humanity’s reinforcements they appeared to have been given a cavalcade of species that had once fought against humanity. In truth Zavar was deeply concerned about this development, but the one thing keeping him from panicking was his observations of the actual human soldiers present.

Their eyes lacked a sense of fear one would normally experience when coming upon something, or someone, so unnatural to themselves. They were alert and disciplined which was all that Zavar needed to know to reassure him that things were as they should be.

The Kliptec finally slithered in front of Zavar and gave a crisp salute which Zavar returned with a bow of comradery.

“Lt. Colonel Reginal Seth of the 17th Engineer battalion.” the Kliptec said.

“Base Commander Zavar Hatsval,” Zavar replied as he motion to his second, “and my second Xixvil Nog, of the Galaxian expeditionary force.”

“I must admit,” Zavar began as the column of forces began marching past the trio, “when I heard we were getting human reinforcements I was not expecting this.”

Reginal’s sighed and rolled his eyes as if he had heard that same statement a thousand times before.

“Our military allows anyone to enlist so long as they were born within our borders.” he stated as he turned to see his soldiers march by to the storage facilities. “It is an efficient system to use every natural resource available to your advantage, so why limit to a single species military?”

“We do not ask others to fight in our stead.” Xixvil spoke as he watched several humans walk by.

“And how has that turned out for you here?” Reginal said as his serpent mouth twisted to a half grin. “Because from where I am it looks like we’re here to fight in your stead.”

Xixvil’s mouth dropped open in shock before morphing into one of anger while Reginal continued smirking. Zavar thought he was about to see his second lash out when the hive drone he had seen before marched over to them.

It stood easily twice as high as a Galaxian and three times as high as the human soldiers around it. Its collection of eyes were constantly darting around randomly as if trying to observe everything at once while it hovered over the trio. It slowly opened its mouth to reveal rows of sharpened teeth as it surprised Zavar once again.  

“Dro…..go…..where?”

In all of his life in the Galaxian military he had never heard of a hive drone capable of speech. In the past the Galaxian’s had fought several wars with the Hive and at every encounter the drone warrior caste was found to be near mindless killing machines without a queen’s control. To hear one speak in a language he could understand, let alone in broken sentences was enough to end the careers of several Galaxian biologists.

“Report to Sgt Morris, Dro.” Reginal said as if the tower beast of flesh and chitin before him was just another average soldier.

The drone’s eyes stopped twitching for a moment as if concentrating before continuing “Morris…..yes…find…Morris….going….now…sir.” It tilted a blade like appendage which took a moment for Zavar to realize it was saluting Reginal which the Kliptec swiftly returned.

“Carry on Dro.”

With that the drone shambled off after the majority of humans who had left the landing zone leaving only a few behind to begin unloading the battalion’s equipment. Reginal turned to them and handed them a data pad. “Once our gear is unloaded we will begin expanding the landing fields by three additional pads. After that we’ll start reinforcing the outer perimeter walls and compound infrastructure.”

Zavar took the data pad and began going over the details while Xixvil continued to watch Dro walk away.

“I do not mean to be rude, but why did you call that drone “Dro”?” Xixvil asked once the drone was far enough away.

Reginal shrugged, an oddly human gesture for such an alien being, before answering “That’s his name; Dro Harris.”

“It was my understanding that hive drones lacked the capacity to develop individuality.” Xixvil continued as he watched the drone in the distance stop in front of a humanoid looking figure before following them into a storage bay.

“Normally they aren’t able to, but humans have this strange ability to impart personalities into beings should they stay around them long enough.”

Both Zavar and Xixvil looked at Reginal dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?” they asked, to which Reginal simply nodded.

“One of his parents fought in the human hive wars and took an egg back as a trophy. Turns out it hatched and they decided to raise him as their son.”

“I can’t imagine humans reacted well to a hive drone in their midst.”

To their surprised Reginal shook his head. “From what he’s told me he used to be a successful actor before he enlisted; he was popular in fast food commercials.”

“Now I know you are making things up.” Zavar cut in, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Humans do weird things like this all the time,” Reginal said, “they act distant at first but once they warm up to you the majority of them will welcome you with open arms and treat you like kin.”

He stretched out his arms so Zavar and Xixvil could get a good look at him.

“People assume humans are barbaric isolationist xenophiles, and while it is true there are some of them out there they do not make up the entirety of humanity.”

“There are humans that will sit down with complete strangers and within an hour be closer than brothers with them, humans that will drop everything to come help you even when there is no benefit to themselves, humans that will check up on you just to see if you are alright.”

“It’s weird but at times it’s almost as if humanity has been sick of just knowing only humans and will throw themselves at anything different just so they can experience something new, something exotic and exciting.”

Reginal looked at the two Galaxians as they took in what he had to say and shook his head. He gave a quick salute and then slithered after his men as the heavy equipment began rolling off the transport leaving the Galaxians in the dust.  

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Jairsolas

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Six

A JSE Fanfic

*gasp* A POV change?! For the first time in this story?! How exciting! Yeah short description because I’ve had a long day as of queueing this, but basically we follow Marvin as he tries to track down the King. But instead, along the way, he meets someone new. And that’s all I have to say. Hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The noble family Portmota lived on the edge of the Southern Moors, their castle built on the last bit of solid land before the rivers came in and flooded the south of the kingdom. Officially, their claim covered all of the Moors, but everybody knew that the Moors ran on their own, much like the mountain villages to the west and north. But the meagerness of their claim didn’t stop the family from building themselves a solid, grand castle. It sat on top of a small hill, surrounded by a thick stone wall. The castle’s multiple towers reached the sky, and were numerous to require a large staff to keep the place running for the noble family and any visitors they might have.

With such a large body of servants, it was easy to slip in unnoticed. They always accepted help, and as long as you didn’t appear troublesome, they’d immediately snatch you up and put you to work the moment you asked for a position, no interview needed. 

This was something Marvin found out first hand when he decided to infiltrate the castle in preparation for the King’s visit.

Maybe they needed help to clean up for said visit, maybe they were always like this, the result was the same either way. All Marvin had to do was show up on the grounds, dressed in ragged clothes, and he was immediately hired by the head servant. She didn’t even mind when he said he had to keep his cat nearby at all times.

Once he was inside, it only took him a few days to get a scope of things. Normally his sense of direction was terrible, but the servants were always being sent on numerous chores, so the castle’s layout quickly solidified in his mind. The cleaning and cooking was...hard, he had to admit. Unlike Jackie and Schneep, he hadn’t grown up doing chores, and taking care of things was a relatively new skill. He went to bed in the servants’ quarters exhausted. But this was a small price to pay for the opportunity that had presented itself.

He began to notice odd things about the castle. First of all, effort was put into cleaning and clearing every room in every wing, even the ones that had been sealed off so the heat wouldn’t escape into the winter air. Every candlestick was being polished, every tapestry dusted out. Why all the work? Unless...there was something big happening.

There were also a lot more people wandering around the castle. Visitors. Nobility, to be specific. An oddly high amount. Not that the nobility didn’t like to go see each other, especially for parties, but the Portmota claim was currently home to just one person: the Marquess Portmota, the eldest member of the family. Marvin knew all the other Portmotas were either traveling, or had married into other noble families and now lived with them. There were far too many visitors in the castle for one woman to entertain, even for something as important as a Longest Night celebration.

Not to mention the rumors circling through the servants’ ranks. News spread fast through this network, and soon, maids, cooks, and gardeners were muttering to each other about the King himself visiting.

Marvin tried not to get too close to any of these servants. It would just...get in the way. Sure, many of them were friendly to him, offering to share lunches or spend their breaks with him. But...no, it wouldn’t work out. It couldn’t. Besides, he didn’t need them. All he needed was his familiar, Draco.

He’d been in Portmota Castle for a week when the rumors started to buzz. The cleaning suddenly intensified, and the visitors to the keep began strutting about in their finest clothes. One night, to confirm his suspicions, he asked a laundress named Mina what was going on.

“Huh? You mean you haven’t heard? You haven’t seen?” Mina glanced about the laundry room where she was busy working. Seeing nobody else nearby, she leaned close to Marvin and whispered, “They’ve seen the King! Here!”

Marvin’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “Really? Why would he be here?”

“Why would he be here? For the Longest Night celebration!” Mina chuckled. “Elders, Westley, you can be oblivious,” she said, calling him by the fake name he was going by.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Marvin glanced down at the floor. Draco was batting at a loose sleeve dangling from a laundry bin, so he quickly bent over and scooped him up before the cat could knock the whole thing over. “Who saw him? How’d they know it was the King?”

“A couple people. Teresa, Connor, Kelley. They saw a man fitting his description walking around, with the brown hair and slender build, and Teresa pointed out he was walking very purposefully. Dressed finer than all other lords who’ve come to visit.” Mina dumped some of the laundry into a washbasin as she talked. “Kelley got really close to him, too, when they were serving food in the hall. They said he had the royal green eyes.”

“Royal green. Wow.” Marvin pretended to be in awe, and made sure not to show off any of the burning anger smoldering inside him. “If he’s the King, where’s he staying? I don’t think any room here would be noble enough for him.”

Mina shrugged. “Nobody’s said yet. There are a whole bunch of new rooms made up for the visitors, hard to tell. It’s not like he’ll be hanging the royal crest on the door.” She glanced about the room again, then nudged Marvin’s shoulder with some urgency. “Oh no, Ursula is coming. Better get out of sight before she demands you stop standing around and start working.”

“Right.”

That conversation was abruptly cut short, but Marvin got a lot of information from it. Namely, that the King really was here. The detail about the royal green eyes sealed it. Yes, the royal family were once known for their distinctive shade of green eyes, but none of them had actually been born with the color in recent generations. Until the current king. Something like that wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Now the question was how to get close to him.

He spent two days trying to figure out which room the King was staying in, but in the end, the answer fell right into his lap.

It was early morning, and he was in the kitchen, kneading bread for the day. It was a task he often volunteered for; something about the kneading motion was very calming to him. Even if Draco wandered around and tried to get under the feet of every grumbling chef and baker.

With no warning, the door suddenly flew open, and a voice called, “Any of you lot free for a quick delivery?!”

Everyone looked over in unison. It was Ursula, the head servant. “Depending what the delivery is!” answered Everett, the head cook.

“We need a breakfast tray prepared quick!” Ursula demanded. “It’s urgent!”

The chefs and bakers muttered amongst themselves. “How urgent is it?” Everett asked.

Ursula huffed. “Very. One of the lady’s important guests ordered it. And we don’t wanna upset him.”

Marvin’s head shot up. Could it be...?

“Alright, don’t get your skirt twisted, Helendaugh,” Everett muttered, rolling his eyes. “We’ll make one up. But you’ll need someone else to bring it up. We’re all busy here, if you couldn’t tell.”

“No one else can bring it up! They’re all busy too! Sure, I could scout around for someone, but that’ll take too long! Do I need to repeat that he ordered it urgently? Or that we can’t upset him?”

Marvin slowly raised his hand. “Um...sir? If you give me a minute, I’ll be finished. I can do it.”

Everett gave his kneading station a once-over, then nodded, satisfied. “Alright, that’ll be just enough time to make up the tray. See, Ursula? Westley can do it, no problem.”

Judging by the tightness of her face and the way she was wringing her hands, Ursula still thought there was a problem. But she stepped back. “Okay. Westley, you’ll want to head up the central tower, all the way to the top room. Knock on the door, but don’t wait for a reply. Open it and slide the tray right in, then close it and leave.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Make sure you do. This is very important, for a very important guest.” Ursula took a few more steps back, right out the door. Then she shut it behind her.

Some time later, Marvin was practically running through the halls of Portmota Castle, Draco at his heels. The central tower was quite far away from the kitchens. Though...a tower room was odd. Most nobility preferred to stay in the keep itself, since towers got drafty, and walking up and down the stairs was rarely worth the view. Maybe the King was different? Eh. It didn’t really matter. The King wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy that tower room.

Marvin stopped at the base of the central tower, breathing heavily. He quickly glanced around, but luckily, the area was clear of any servants or noble visitors. Good. He needed to be quick. He slid over to the wall and knelt down, putting the tray of food on the floor. There was a floor-length tapestry nearby, and he pulled it over his shoulders, partially hiding him from view.

Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a chain. A beautiful pendant, with its smooth, palm-sized emerald and silver frame looking too expensive for the rusted chain it hung from. Even though wearing it might give him away, he couldn’t bear to part from his magical focus. A wizard without a focus was like a painter without their paint. They couldn’t do anything without it.

Quickly, Marvin pressed two fingers to the surface of the emerald, which immediately started glowing. When he pulled his hand away, the glowing light stuck to his fingertips. He drew a rectangle on the ground with his fingers, leaving light behind like chalk on a board. Once the rectangle was fully formed, the middle of it faded away. Now, Marvin was looking at the inside of a small box. And inside the box were a few things. A small dagger, a bottle of brown glass, a coil of thread, a white handkerchief, and a candle. Marvin plucked the bottle out from the box. He reached for the breakfast tray—swatting Draco away in the process with a “No, not for you”—and pulled it closer. Then he unstopped the bottle, poured a few drops of the liquid inside onto all the food items, and stopped it again, putting it back inside the small box. Once the bottle was back in place, the glowing rectangle disappeared. The floor reappeared as solid stone once more, with no sign of the magical box that had just been there.

“Good,” Marvin said, grinning to himself. He pulled away the tapestry, picked up the food tray, and stood up. “Now for the most difficult part...the stairs.”

That statement was a joke—a joke for no one, really, since Draco was the only one around and he didn’t really understand human humor—but Marvin was definitely winded by the time he reached the room at the tower top. No matter how often he walked up stairs, no matter how frequently he’d done so in the past week, he still hated them. Maybe that said more about how fit he was than the design of the stairs themselves. Which made no sense, he’d spent the past few years running around the kingdom, surely he’d be more fit by now?

He was getting distracted. The room door was in front of him. Wooden. A fine door, but no more fine than literally any other door in the castle. Yet...the King was inside.

Following the instructions, Marvin knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a reply before easing it open and setting the tray down on the floor inside. Draco almost poked his head through the gap, but Marvin pushed him back, then closed the door.

He waited for a few minutes. Expecting to hear movement inside. But there was nothing. Well...the room must have thick walls, then. With his task accomplished, Marvin turned back and headed back down the stairs, which proved much friendlier on the way down.

That poison worked quickly. By that night, they’d hear news of the King’s assassination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

But that was not the case.

Marvin waited with anticipation, but nothing happened. There was no outcry of poison, no panic as the King’s lackeys were left unsure what to do. Things proceeded as normal. Leaving him confused. He was sure he got the dose right, and he’d made sure to poison all of the food on the tray. Hadn’t he?

The next morning, the exact same thing happened. Ursula barged into the kitchen, demanding a breakfast tray for an important guest. Everett said everyone was busy, and Ursula repeated the urgency. So, Marvin volunteered to deliver it again. Once he was alone, he took the poison from the hidden box and again dosed the food, making sure to add a bit more this time before putting the poison back and delivering the food to the top of the tower. He even had to push Draco back from the door again.

But still, nothing happened.

And when the same thing happened the next morning, Marvin was about ready to shout out “Am I going mad?!” But he didn’t, and instead played it cool. This time, Everett asked him to take the tray up ahead of time, expecting him to be able to. And of course, Marvin agreed, and secretly added even more of the poison. And of course, Draco once again tried to squeeze into the room at the top of the tower. Honestly, Marvin felt he should have more control of his familiar, but given how cats were impossible to order around under normal circumstances, he took Draco even listening to him as a plus.

When nothing happened the fourth day, Marvin began to suspect something unusual was going on. Perhaps someone tampered with the poison? No, that should be impossible. That box was buried in the ground, far away from Portmota Castle. He could only access it because of his magic. But...maybe? If he tried again today and the King still did not die, he’d try a different method.

So once more, he took the breakfast tray when offered, headed to a private area to get the poison out of the box, added yet more of it to the food, and trekked up the stairs to the room at the top of the central tower. He knocked on the door, then without waiting for a response, opened it to slide the tray inside.

And the instant the opening was big enough, Draco leaped through the gap and into the room beyond.

“Draco!” Marvin cried out, dropping the breakfast tray. Without thinking about what to do next, he threw the door open and rushed inside to scoop up his cat.

But of course, there was someone in there. Someone who’d been startled by the sudden appearance of an off-white cat, but was even more surprised to see someone run into the room after it.

Marvin skidded to a halt, looked around, and before he could even think about it, blurted out, “You’re not the King.”

The person inside slowly shook their head.

“Oh.” Marvin took a step back. Now that he wasn’t worried about his familiar jumping into the hands of the King, he gave the stranger inside a once-over.

The person—Marvin now recognized him as a man—looked a bit like the King, at a first glance. He had brown hair, as most people in the kingdom did, and was fairly thin. But he was shorter than the King was said to be, had a distinct, dark mustache, and most importantly, blue eyes. Not green. His clothes were fine, indicating nobility, but the style was a bit old fashioned. Like the black bow he wore around his neck, something that had gone out of style at least ten years ago.

Draco was sitting on a stool next to the man, looking very self-satisfied. Evidently, the strange man had started petting him right before Marvin barged in.

“Well...sorry, then,” Marvin said awkwardly.

The man smiled and shrugged. He gestured to Draco.

“Huh? Yes, sorry about him. And about barging in, I wasn’t thinking.” Marvin glanced around the room. “So...is the King going to be back soon?”

The man tilted his head, puzzled. And shook his head.

“Why do you look so confused?” Marvin took a minute to think. Then a possibility occurred to him. “Wait...is the King...not staying in these rooms?”

And the man shook his head again.

“Damn it,” Marvin whispered, barely audible. 

Honestly, looking around the room, he didn’t think this place was fit for a king, anyway. Certainly, it was noble. There were plush sofas and chairs sitting about, and a desk with a mirror and stool in the corner. The windows had thick blue curtains that one could pull over to cover the glass. And he could see two more doors, both slightly ajar and showing a bedroom and a bathroom. But...it was rather small, in all honesty. The furniture was pushed together, and the blue wallpaper looked a bit old. Not to mention it was cold, as well, with no fireplace. Marvin wished he’d thought to bring a cloak, but the one he owned was too fine, and he had to leave it behind while masquerading as a servant.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Marvin said politely. “They said someone very important was ordering the breakfast trays so—wait, have you been eating that food?”

The man looked embarrassed, and shook his head again.

“No? Well it couldn’t just disappear.”

Now even more embarrassed, the man pointed towards the bathroom.

“You’ve been...dumping it in the lavatory?” Marvin realized, shocked. “Every day? Well no wonder you look so thin, then, if you’ve been skipping breakfast the whole time.” He then remembered the tray of poisoned food he’d brought, and dropped in the hallway. “Oh. But ah, might have actually been a good idea this time. I mean, the—if I’m being honest, it was all undercooked, anyway,” he lied. “And the one for today is all splattered now. Sorry.”

The stranger smiled good-naturedly. He nodded.

“Um...I’ll just leave now.” Marvin took a few steps backwards towards the door.

Hurriedly, the man shook his head, gesturing for him to stay. Meanwhile, Draco pressed his head against the man’s arm, demanding pets.

“Oh. Right. Draco, come on.”

Ears drooping, disappointed, Draco hopped off the stool and walked out the door. “Sorry about all this,” Marvin muttered, backing fully out of the room and pushing the door closed.

As it shut, he could have sworn the man inside had a very strange expression on his face. Something like disappointment and desperation mixed in one.

How...odd. Marvin hesitated, wondering if he should go back inside. But...maybe he’d misread the man’s face. That was far more likely than...whatever he just saw. Yes. He should turn his mind to more practical matters. Like where the King was actually staying, if not here. And getting someone to come up and clean the tray he’d dropped.

But as he retreated back down the stairs, he felt somehow regretful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day, the order for a breakfast tray came in, as usual. Marvin wasn’t sure about delivering it, but by this point, he’d volunteered enough that Everett and Ursula expected him to. After all, it was much easier to have one person do something than to constantly find someone new every day. So Marvin quietly took the tray and headed to the central tower once more. This time, he did not stop to poison the food along the way. Now that he knew the King wasn’t there, it wasn’t much use.

When he knocked on the door, it swung open before he could pull it open himself. The strange man from the day before was standing there, smiling and practically bouncing with excitement. He immediately grabbed Marvin and dragged him into the room.

“Whoa! Watch out, you’ll spill the milk!” Marvin quickly set the breakfast tray down on the nearby desk, making sure nothing had fallen off. He didn’t want to make another mess.

The strange man didn’t respond to that comment. He was kneeling on the floor, petting Draco. Much to the cat’s delight, of course. There was a lot of purring.

“Why’d you do that?” Marvin asked. “Pull me in, I mean. If you want to know if the breakfast’s good to eat this time, it is. I...um, checked. Did you just want to pet my cat?”

The man made a so-so gesture.

Marvin suddenly felt frustrated. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want?!” he snapped.

At that, the man stopped. He looked over at Marvin, then stood up. He was wearing another neck bow today, blue this time, and he silently pulled it down so that his neck was more visible. There, right in the middle of his throat, were two scars, arranged in a + shape. Clearly the result of some sort of surgery.

“Oh.” Marvin’s stomach immediately sank. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

The man waved away his stammered apology with a small smile. It was clearly a sensitive subject, but since it was an accident, all was forgiven.

“Still, I...I’m very sorry. Ah...do you have something to write with, maybe?” Marvin suggested tentatively.

The man shook his head. He did that a lot, didn’t he?

“...nothing at all? What about in this desk?” Marvin wandered over to said desk, opening the drawers. But the man was right. There weren’t any quills or chalk to be seen. There wasn’t even any stationary, and Marvin knew that nobles were fond of keeping their own personalized paper nearby in case writing was needed. Instead, the desk’s drawers were mostly empty, only containing a few game boards and card decks.

As Marvin looked through the drawers, the man walked over to stand next to him, watching. When Marvin opened the drawer with the cards inside, he reached forward and quickly snatched up one of the decks. He turned to Marvin, grinning, and pointed at him, then at the cards.

“You...want to play cards?” Marvin asked, trying not to sound excited.

The man nodded.

“Well...I’m supposed to have chores, but why not?” Marvin grinned as well. “I have to warn you, I’m very good at Luck of the Deal.”

That only made the man smile wider. He guided Marvin over to the sofas and gestured for him to sit.

A couple hours passed before Marvin remembered he had more to do. Not just chores, but he also had to locate the King before the Longest Night celebration, after which he’d leave and return to Suilthair, the capital, and be untouchable. So Marvin hurriedly excused himself, but found himself leaving with a certain spring in his step. It had been a while since he’d sat down and played a few card games with someone. He...really missed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few days, he and the man in the tower developed a routine. Marvin would take a breakfast tray up to the room, and the man would drag him inside for a few games. Cards, mostly, though they pulled out some of the board games, too. The breakfast tray would be mostly ignored, though Marvin tried to insist that the man actually eat it. The stranger was on the thin side, after all, he probably needed a meal. A bit odd to see a skinny noble, actually. They could definitely afford enough to eat. But Marvin wasn’t going to ask, in case it was sensitive, like the voice issue.

There were, however, other questions that he wasn’t afraid to ask. The first one came up on the second day of this routine. They’d finished their first game of cards—Enchanter’s Gambit, a shorter one—and Marvin had asked, slowly, “Can you tell me your name? I understand you can’t speak it, but there has to be something I can call you.”

The man paused in shuffling the cards, thinking. Then he set down the deck, stood up, and walked over into the bedroom. A few moments later, he returned, holding something. He handed it to Marvin.

“A handkerchief?” Marvin asked, turning it over in his hands.

The man pointed to one of the cloth’s corners. Marvin examined it, and saw a small design embroidered in gray thread. A rabbit, curled up and sleeping, surrounded by a circle of thorny plants. It was the sign of a noble family. But not just any family. One Marvin instantly recognized.

“That’s the Jairsolas crest,” he gasped. “But—that’s—a-are you a friend of theirs, or...?” He trailed off, not needing to finish his question. The man’s grim expression confirmed everything. “That’s...impossible,” Marvin whispered. “They’re all dead.”

More specifically, they’d been massacred. By the King and his forces.

The death of the Jairsolas family had been one of the earliest signs of how dangerous the King was. The Count and Countess Jairsolas had ruled over the small family peacefully, loved by the people of their land. When the King began demanding more warriors, when he began taking away royal funds from medicine and farming, they were one of the nobles who protested. Eventually, they refused to enact his royal decrees in their northern territory, saying they would not compromise the welfare of their people. They accused the King of swiftly becoming a tyrant. The King immediately proved them right by forcibly invading their land and killing the entire family.

And yet, even after this clearly unwarranted act, there were still nobles out there who stood by the King. There were still warriors who pledged loyalty to him and believed in his cause. There were even common people who repeated that the King was just and good, though that was usually because they were simply unaware of what was going on. The nobles and warriors, however, had no excuse. They continued to fawn over the King and happily harm innocents. It made Marvin sick just thinking about them.

“I’m...so sorry,” Marvin said quietly.

The man nodded slowly, sadness flashing in his eyes. He must’ve been a more distant relative, to survive the King’s attack. Marvin, unsure what to do, placed a hand on his arm, hoping the gesture would convey the sympathy he felt. The man patted it, and smiled a bit, indicating it was alright.

“Jairsolas is a bit cumbersome,” Marvin said slowly. “Can I call you...Jair? For short?”

The man nodded, eagerly accepting the nickname. He pointed at Marvin, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? I’m M—I’m Westley.” Marvin remembered his pseudonym just in time, and quickly changed the subject. “Want to play another round?”

For someone who couldn’t speak, Jair was very expressive, gesturing widely and exaggerating his facial movements. Marvin assumed that was necessary, to compensate for not being able to say anything. Though it was odd that there were no writing utensils or parchment in his room. That seemed like it would be helpful, and easy to acquire, too. But Marvin didn’t want to push the issue. Maybe it was just a preference. Or maybe Jair assumed Marvin, appearing to be a servant, couldn’t read much.

Despite the issues of communication, Marvin proceeded with his questions. About eight days after the first breakfast tray delivery, he got tired of Jair continually ignoring the breakfast. That was perfectly good food going to waste. “Why do you even order the trays if you don’t want to eat them?”

Jair looked up, a bit surprised to be asked this while the two of them were in the middle of a game of Fidchell. He indicated himself, then shook his head.

“You...you mean you’re not the one ordering them?” Marvin asked, confused.

Jair nodded, confirming this, and looked back down at the board, moving a piece.

“Wh—how’d you do that?!” Marvin spluttered, momentarily distracted. “I was going to move one of the warriors there—you just cut off my path!” He scanned the board. “How did you surround my king again?!”

Jair laughed silently, a breathy sound, clapping his hands in delight at winning another game.

Marvin scowled. Draco promptly jumped onto the sofa and knocked over the board, scattering the pieces. “Yea, take down that game. I’m shit at it, apparently.” He sighed, and grabbed the cat, moving him to the side. “Who’s ordering the breakfast trays, then? Can you tell them to stop? It’s enough work as it is.”

Shaking his head, Jair pointed at Marvin.

“I could find some other way to get up here.” Marvin paused, noticing Jair’s slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he went about collecting the knocked-over game pieces. “Can you...not tell them to stop?” He thought about it for a moment. “It must be someone higher ranking than you, then. That would make sense, and it would explain why they always said someone important ordered the trays. Heh. Is it the King?”

Marvin asked the question jokingly, but for a moment, Jair’s shoulders stiffened. Then he brushed off the question, laughing without sound again.

That...couldn’t be right, could it? Why would the King go out of his way to order breakfast for some random noble? And one related to the Jairsolas family, which he destroyed? It didn’t make sense. There must be some sort of lie or trickery involved. Maybe it wasn’t actually the King. Or the King didn’t know Jair’s true identity. Or Jair didn’t know what happened to the rest of the family. Something like that.

Either way, Jair was quickly putting away the Fidchell pieces and board, clearly wanting to move on. So Marvin dropped the subject for the day.

But he still needed information. The King was somewhere in the castle. Other servants had caught glimpses of him, but Marvin still hadn’t figured out where he was staying, or run into him at all. Longest Night was approaching. He was running out of time. So, he decided to ask Jair a few more questions.

“Have you seen the King around?” he asked one day over a game of Saelan checkers. “Apparently he’s in the castle for the celebration, but I haven’t seen the tail of him. Others have, though. What bad luck, huh?”

Just like the last time he brought the King up, Jair stiffened, and immediately denied anything with a shake of his head. He pointed to the board.

“Right.” Marvin moved one of the small stone balls that served as pieces, getting closer to the end goal at the other side of the board. He wasn’t too good at board games, preferring cards, but he was better at this than he was at Fidchell. “I suppose I shouldn’t assume you’d know, anyway. I was just curious. I’ve never seen him. Does he really have green eyes?”

Jair nodded, distracted by planning out his next move.

“It’s strange that none of us know what room he’s staying in. That’s why I assumed he was staying here, ha.” Marvin watched Jair’s face as he continued to talk. “Is he even staying on the castle grounds? I know it’s traditional and all, but I don’t know if anyone would stop him.”

Jair shrugged. This time, his response didn’t seem like avoiding the question, but genuinely not knowing.

“Do you...I’ve never seen you out in the castle,” Marvin realized. “Do you stay in these rooms the whole time?”

Squirming, Jair didn’t answer, instead focusing on jumping one of his pieces over two of Marvin’s, capturing the last one.

“That’s not good for you. Staying in all the time, I mean. Especially when you don’t have a fireplace here. And it looks like an old room, you’re probably breathing in dust all the time. You don’t have to go out and make conversation with others, or even go outside, but just walk around. Do you even go to the main hall for dinner?”

Jair leaned back and looked away, folding his arms.

“Oh. Sorry, I...didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Marvin said. “I was just...worried, I suppose. You don’t eat breakfast, you don’t go out, you don’t have a fireplace...it’s just...worrying. I’m...worried about...your health.”

Despite the clumsiness of Marvin’s statements, Jair looked touched. He patted Marvin’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” Marvin said reluctantly. “Try to take care of yourself, though.”

Jair placed his hand over his heart, suddenly emotional. He nodded, smiling. 

Had...no one ever said anything like that to him before? Had no one looked after him? Marvin felt something stirring deep inside his chest. A familiar ache. He’d...he’d never someone he could...well...relate to.

Marvin was supposed to ask more about the King, but he found he couldn’t go through with it today. He would try again tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day, Marvin arrived at the tower room a bit later than usual. It took them a bit longer to cook it today, since there was more food than the previous times. He hoped that meant Jair was planning to actually eat it, and not just feed pieces of sausage to Draco the whole time.

He knocked on the door, waited for a few moments for Jair to open, but when he didn’t appear, Marvin pulled open the door himself and walked inside. Huh. Jair wasn’t actually in the room. The bedroom and bathroom doors were closed, so maybe he was doing something in there. “Hello? I’m here,” Marvin called as he set the tray down on the desk. Something brushed against his legs, and he looked down to see Draco curling around his legs. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” Draco didn’t usually stick close to legs, not after too many occasions of people suddenly moving and tripping over him. And his tail was standing straight up, the fur all puffed out.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Jair walked out. He waved at Marvin the moment he saw him.

“Tthere you are. I was wondering why you didn’t open the door.” Marvin glanced back down at Draco, still on edge, then back up. “Is everything alright?”

Jair nodded, waving away the question. He then walked straight over to the desk and started rummaging around the drawers, pausing for a moment to gesture at Marvin.

“Oh, I don’t want to do anything specific today. Maybe more cards?”

Nodding again, Jair pulled out one of the decks. While he walked over to the sofa and began shuffling, Marvin glanced around the room once more. Nothing looked out of place...what had Draco so spooked? He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, looking out the glass at the scenery. Clear skies ahead. On the ground below, there were...a lot of people in the surrounding open-air keep. More than he saw on the way over to the tower. That wasn’t too unusual, though. So Marvin closed the curtains again. “What were you doing?” he asked Jair.

Jair looked up at him, confused.

“I mean, you’re usually waiting for me. What was different this time?”

There was a slight pause. Then Jair shrugged. He pulled on the ends of his neck bow, tightening it, and followed it up with a so-so gesture.

“I don’t understand, what do you mean? Something about getting dressed?” Marvin asked. This whole thing felt...odd. Why did it feel odd? Was it just because Draco was still clinging to his legs?

Actually, Draco wasn’t just staying close to his legs. He was also staring at something, ears flat, a warning growl low in his throat. Marvin followed his line of sight...to the door they’d just come through. And...now that he wasn’t speaking, he could hear something underneath the sounds of shuffling cards. Faint, but growing louder.

Footsteps coming up the stairs.

Now why would someone be coming up the stairs? The only thing in the central tower were guest rooms. But most rooms were farther below, and the steps were definitely close enough to be heard. Meaning...someone was coming to this room. Why? Jair wasn’t exactly sociable. It could’ve been Ursula coming to get Marvin for chores, but...Marvin grabbed his amulet through his shirt, and his eyes lit up the smallest amount. No, he could sense more than one living person approaching. Quite a lot more, actually.

“Can I use your lavatory?” Marvin asked. He didn’t wait for Jair to nod before heading over and disappearing inside, closing the door behind him.

Just in time for the room’s entrance door to open, and for all those living people to fill the room. Accompanying the footsteps he’d heard before was the faint sound of metallic clanking, like...like chainmail. Or weapons.

Panic flooded Marvin’s mind. They’d discovered him, hadn’t they?! He had to get out of here! There was a small window in the bathroom, maybe just barely big enough to squeeze through. It was quite a drop to the keep below, but better than nothing. Marvin tried to break the glass with his fist, but only managed to crack it, so he pulled his amulet out and began to focus.

“Open up! We know you’re in there, traitor!” Bang bang bang bang bang!

“Damn!” Marvin cursed. They were knocking on the bathroom door. He didn’t have time to break the window, he needed to go through them! He whirled around—

The bathroom door slammed open, revealing three warriors wearing tunics with the royal crest. Marvin grabbed his now-glowing amulet and made a throwing motion. Light flung from his hands, hardening to stone as it hurled through the air, and three good-sized rocks hit each warrior in the chest, knocking them down. Marvin immediately bolted.

The small room was packed with other warriors, as well. Many were blocking his way to the door, armed with broad-bladed swords. Marvin threw more light to either side of him, and the warriors yelled as they tried to get out of the way of the suddenly-appearing rocks. For the ones in front, he pulled more glow from the amulet, forming it into a long, thin whip made entirely of green flame. He swung it around and many of the warriors scattered. Two stood their ground, acting quickly to pull circular shields from their backs and block the magic fire. But then Marvin was in front of them, his hands ablaze with more flame.

And then pain wrapped around his torso.

He looked down just long enough to register the black thorny vines wrapped across his chest before suddenly being yanked backwards. Pulled off his feet, he landed on his back and was dragged across the floor for some distance before suddenly stopping. He looked up and saw a face looking down at him. Unnaturally blue eyes. Pale blonde hair, stylishly curled around her face. And a few smattering of freckles, almost disappearing beneath a light layer of cosmetics. She looked as surprised to see him as he felt seeing her. “Marvin,” she said.

“Thalia,” Marvin scowled.

“I didn’t think it would be you. They said the servant’s name was Westley. Unless—you lied, didn’t you? Like you always do.”

“You’ve always been the liar.”

“No I haven’t. I’m always honest with everyone.”

“Nope. I know you haven’t told anyone about those secret visits to the mountains, have you?” Marvin laughed at Thalia’s surprised expression. “That was hard to find out, but I immediately recognized your handiwork. Burning the stone? Really? Talk about excessive.”

“Shut up,” Thalia snapped. She reached up and touched a silver-and-ruby broach pinned on her tunic. Her focus. Her eyes lit up. “I’m the one in charge now.”

“No you’re not.” Marvin grabbed his own focus, flicking the light from it up into her face. Thalia yelped as the glow turned into liquid and went into her eyes, and she lost concentration on the vine spell. Marvin shot up and looked around the room again. Now counting, there were ten warriors. One of them was holding his cat-shaped mask. Damn it! They went through his belongings and found it. He could have left it behind, but he brought it in case something happened and he needed it. Clearly that hadn’t been worth the risk.

All of the warriors were strategically blocking his ways out. The window, the door out, the doors to the bathroom and Jair’s bedroom—

Wait, Jair?! Where was he?!

Marvin didn’t have to look far. Jair was sitting in the exact spot he’d last seen him. On the sofa, having not moved a finger since the warriors and Thalia entered. His eyes were fixed downward, his hands clutching the deck of cards tightly in his lap. Marvin blinked. “Jair, what are you—”

Fog suddenly filled the room, unnaturally quickly, blinding him in seconds. Marvin whirled around, lighting up his amulet to try and see through the mist. 

Dark figures lunged out of the fog and grabbed at him. Shouting, Marvin threw the light in a circle, turning it to green flame again. Several people cried out, and the fog lifted as the fire burned through it. Marvin saw the surrounding figures of the warriors, and then someone lunged at him from behind, wrapping legs around his and pulling his hair.

He yelped. “Thalia! Get off me!”

“No, give me that focus!” Thalia demanded, clawing at the chain around his neck.

“Die in freezing!” Marvin tried to grab his amulet, but that was a bit difficult while the chain was strangling him. He had to divert effort to giving himself room to breathe. “Who jumps on someone’s back?! You’re thirty years old!”

“You’re the one acting like a child! You stole that, I recognize it!”

“It was mine, too!”

After a few moments, the combination of struggling and the weight on his back caused Marvin to fall over, bringing Thalia down with him. The moment he was down, five of the ten warriors lunged forward, pinning him. He struggled, but there were just too many. Then Thalia pulled once more on the chain holding his amulet, and it broke. She backed away, holding the amulet upward in triumph.

Out of nowhere, there was a yowling sound. Thalia screamed as a streak of off-white fur ran at her and began clawing at her leg, tearing through her trousers while spitting and hissing. Instinctively, she kicked, and the ball of fur went flying across the room.

“Draco!” Marvin cried, managing to push free of the warriors for long enough to see his cat stand up again. “No! Get out of here!”

Draco wailed, then hissed, ready to attack despite being outnumbered by eleven tall humans.

“No! Out! Run!” Marvin’s magic was quickly fading without his amulet within reach, but he had to get Draco to safety. He looked Draco in the eyes from across the room. His flickered blue for a moment, and Draco’s eyes glowed for a second in the matching shade. Marvin sent the image of a safe place to go through the connection he had with his familiar, and followed it up with instructions on how to get there.

Reluctantly, Draco turned...then bolted, weaving in between the legs of the warriors in a sudden burst of speed. Once he reached the door, an unnatural wave of strength overcame him, and he pushed it open and disappeared. The warriors cried out, but Thalia called, “Let it go! It can’t do much!” She looked down at Marvin. “Really? A cat? Why not bond with something more useful, like a dog?”

“Fuck you!” Marvin shouted, and lunged at her.

Then a warrior brought the hilt of their sword down on the back of his head, and everything went black.

[silvysartfulness]

Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?

Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.

Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.

La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊

1 Unwillingness

It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.

2 Memento

”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.

3 Baseline

He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.

4 Sniper

He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?

5 Birthplace

It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.

6 Denunciation

It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?

7 Distaste

”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.

”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”

Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”

8 Elimination

Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.

9 Bluntness

”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”

Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.

10 Turf

The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.

11 Assassination

He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.

12 Apprentice

He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.

13 Debris

Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.

14 Scolding

Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.

15 Torrent

The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.

16 Anchor

He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.

17 Truce

”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”

”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”

”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.

Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.

18 Nook

There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.

19 Orgy

These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.

20 Scoff

”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ”Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”

Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.

”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”

21 Scolding

At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.

22 Bonfire

No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.

23 Nakedness

Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.

24 Arbiter

It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.

25 Purgatory

The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.

26 Fingernail

Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.

27 Slavery

The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.

28 Carnivore

When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.

29 Bluntness

Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.

30 Vow

He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.

31 Blending

It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.

32 Misconduct

“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”

33 Ultimatum

“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”

34 Takeover

“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.

“You like them?”

She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.

“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”

35 Afterlife

“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”

Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.

36 Distaste

He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.

37 Slavery

He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.

38 Probation

“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.

“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”

Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.

39 Adversity

Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.

40 Bluntness

“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”

Volpe grins.

“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”

41 Scheming

Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.

42 Favorite

It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.

43 Truce

When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.

44 Scour

They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.

45 Extrovert

To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.

46 Protagonist

“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”

No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.

For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.

47 Willpower

It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.

But strangely, it does get easier over time.

48 Esacalation

At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.

49 Torrent

Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.

50 Danger

The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.

51 Splattering

Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.

52 Ramification

“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”

53 Concession

“I'm not sure we should...”

Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.

“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”

“But, what if...”

“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”

His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.

54 Leer

You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.

55 Whisper

Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.

56 Absurdity

At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.

57 Experimentation

Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.

58 Farewell

It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.

”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”

Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.

59 Turf

”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”

Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.

60 Smoothness

When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.

61 Kneeling

Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.

”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”

As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.

62 Purgatory

The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?

63 Lick

It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.

Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.

64 Bonfire

It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.

65 Last

After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.

66 Well

The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.

67 Wrongdoer

As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.

68 Deliberate

It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.

69 Counter

When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.

70 Bribe

Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.

71 Chess

Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.

72 Feel

Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.

In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.

73 Mister

”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”

Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.

74 Fine

There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.

75 Dog

If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.

76 Forgotten

When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.

77 Changed

Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.

78 Gondola

Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.

79 Casino

It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.

80 Soup

The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.

Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.

81 Carrot

”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”

82 Madame

Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.

83 Kilt

Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.

After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.

84 Theft

He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.

[ketamineharry]

Rose Pt 2 - Joshua Bradley

Requested: No, this is the second part of the Doctor Who au. This part is slightly longer than the first at an almost 3,000 word count. I really do hope you enjoy this as it has taken me forever to write it. Lots of love, as always xx

You sat in your front room, the familiar domestic style of your ordinary life being a vast difference from the experience that you were dragged into mere hours ago. Your mum, Jackie, as much as you loved her… was always a bit over the top, always had something to say or brag about. Always wanted the Earth to centre around her.

“The whole of Central London has been closed off as police investigate the fire. Early reports indicate.” The news reporter stated. The anxiety and severity of the situation, hadn’t yet sunk in. You were barely able to keep a track of your own thoughts.

You slumped down into the sofa, hoping that if you slipped down far enough, that it would swallow you whole and that you wouldn’t have to continue processing what had gone on. It was crazy to even think about, and you couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because as the Doctor had stated, it would get them killed. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the saying goes.

“I know. It’s on the telly. It’s everywhere. She’s lucky to be alive. Honestly, it’s aged her. Skin like an old bible. Walking in now, you’d think I was her daughter. Oh, and here’s himself.”

Your boyfriend, Mickey flopped down on the sofa with you. His face is the picture of concern, as he takes your hand in his.  

“I’ve been phoning your mobile. You could’ve been dead. It was on the news and everything. I can’t believe that the shop went up!” He exclaimed, his voice frantic. Laced with worry. His eyes searched your face for some sort of answer, some sort of explanation.

“I’m alright, honestly, I’m fine! Don’t make a fuss.”

“Well, what happened?”

“I don’t know!” You exclaimed, frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t tell your boyfriend. The one person you were supposed to confide in, with everything.

“What was it though? What caused it?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the shop.”

“It’s Debbie on the end. She knows a man from the Mirror. Five hundred quid for an interview.” Jackie said, her excitement clear.

“Oh, that’s brilliant! Give it here.” You said, as you snatched the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. The measures that you were having to undertake to protect people were beginning to mount up.

“Well you’ve got to find some way of making money. Your job’s kaput and I’m not bailing you out.” She told you, quite matter-of-factly.

The phone rang again, your eventful night being the gossip of the tower block so it seemed. You just wanted to be able to go to bed and try to forget about it. But, you couldn’t do that, until everyone that knew you, or knew of you was reassured that you were safe.

“Bev! She’s alive. I told her sue for compensation. She was within seconds of death.” Jackie said, as she made her way through the flat, presumably so that she could work herself up and get excited and not have you bring her down about it.

“What’re you drinking, tea? Nah, nah, that’s no good, that’s no good. You’re in shock. You need something stronger.” Mickey said, trying to convince you to come out, for an alcoholic beverage. As much as you would usually be down for it, the thought of having to face even more people with even more questions, was exhausting.

“I’m alright.”

“Now come on, you deserve a proper drink. We’re going down the pub, you and me. My treat. How about it?” He asked, as he playfully pleaded with you.

“Is there a match on?”

“No, I’m just thinking about you babe.” He stated, simply.

“There’s a match on ain’t there.” You said playfully, a broad smile spreading across your face. The small normality of your boyfriend trying to persuade you to go to the pub with him, so he could get drunk and watch the football, was a comfort that you didn’t know that you needed.

“That’s not the point, but we could catch the last five minutes.”

“Go on, then. I’m fine, really. Go. Get rid of that.” You instructed him, as you threw him the plastic arm that the Doctor had pulled off of the mannequin a few hours beforehand. You just needed it out of your house, so that you could continue to try and live in some sort of normality and repress the memories of what the afternoon and the evening had presented you with.

Mickey quickly gives you a soft kiss, before taking the arm and getting ready to leave.

“Bye, bye.”

“Bye.” You respond, as you gave him a small wave.

As Mickey was leaving, he pretended to strangle himself with the arm. He would never know just how chilling that imagery would be for you, and you could never explain. Or else get him killed. For the safety of everyone you knew, you had to pretend that you were fine and you had to pretend that you knew nothing. Quite the burden to carry on your emotionally exhausted shoulders.

--

You woke up to the sound of your alarm clock, blaring beside you. Begrudgingly, you stopped the sound and went to get out of your bed.

“There’s no point in getting up, sweetheart. You’ve got no job to go to.” Jackie’s voice called. Sending you into a vivid reminder of what had happened the night before. Perhaps, it would be best to go back to sleep for a little while.

--

You were sitting at the dinner table with Jackie, discussing your future or what was left of it. You had to find another job, but everything that was available or was suggested to you, just didn’t seem like the right fit. You couldn’t force yourself to work somewhere, when it just wouldn’t work. You just weren't that type of person.

“There’s Finch’s. You could try them. They’ve always got jobs.” She suggested. You knew that she was just trying to be helpful, but there was no way that you could work in a butchers.

“Oh, great. The butchers.” You groaned. You were fed up of trying to sound grateful for each suggestion, because they weren’t helpful and these weren’t jobs you could see yourself enjoying. After all, she was your mum and you had hoped she would’ve known you better than this by now.

“Well, it might do you good. That shop was giving you airs and graces. And I’m not joking about compensation. You’ve had genuine shock and trauma. Arianna got two thousand quid off the council just because the old man behind the desk said she looked Greek! I know she is Greek, but that’s not the point. It was a valid claim.” She said, as she danced her way back into her bedroom.

Once Jackie was in her bedroom, the cat flap at the bottom of the front door began to rattle. A telltale sign that although you had instructed her to pin the cat flap down, because you didn’t want to have strays coming into the tiny flat, that she had in fact not listened to you. As it seemed like the cat flap was able to move freely, for it to be making all of that noise.

“Mum, you’re such a liar. I told you to nail that cat flap down. We’re going to get strays.” You complained.

“I did it weeks back!” She protested.

“No, you thought about it.”

As you bent down to try and see what was going on, you noticed four silver nails sitting comfortably on the floor. Something had managed to unscrew all of them to be able to try and get through the cat flap. Without warning, it moved. Cautiously, you pushed the cat flap back, in an attempt to see what was going on, on the other side of your door. It wasn’t a total surprise to see the Doctor, the stranger that had saved your life the night before on the other side. Quickly, you rose to your feet and opened the door for him.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, confused.

“I live here.”

“Well, what do you do that for?”

“Because I do. I’m only at home because someone blew up my job.” You explained, a slight hint of anger to your tone.

“I must have got the wrong signal. You’re not plastic, are you?” He asked, as he made a fist with his hand and gently tapped it against your head a couple of times. “No, bone head. Bye then.”

“You. Inside. Right now.” You instructed him, as you took his arm and successfully pulled him into the flat.

“Who is it?” Jackie asked, from her bedroom.

“It’s about last night. He’s part of the inquiry. Give us ten minutes.” You explained as you walked past her room.

The Doctor stood in the doorway, you couldn’t make out much of their conversation, but it seemed like Jackie had attempted to try and make a flirtatious advance onto him, which he had rejected.

As he joined you in the living room area, you felt a sense of shame. The clutter of your everyday life was on show. From magazines, to a deck of cards, the television set sat proudly in the corner of the room. The domesticity seemed alien to him. Like, he didn’t have any of these things himself and it concerned you. Perhaps, he was just some loner who in playing the hero had gotten himself attached to you and now you had let him into your house.

“Don’t mind the mess. Do you want a coffee?” You asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

“Might as well, thanks. Just milk.”

“We should go to the police. Seriously. Both of us.” You suggested, as you tried to think of a way to end the nightmare that you had found yourself residing in.

“That won’t last. He’s gay and she’s an alien.” You heard him mumble.

“I’m not blaming you, even if it was some sort of sick joke that went wrong.” You said, in an attempt at comforting him.

“Hmm. Sad ending.”

“They said on the news that they found a body.” You told him.

“Y/N Tyler.”

“Ah. Could’ve been worse, look at the ears.”

“All the same, he was nice. Nice bloke.” You said, as you continued trying to explain Wilson to him, but it seemed like he either wasn’t all that interested or couldn’t hear you.

You could hear that he was trying, and had failed to shuffle a deck of playing cards.

“Luck be a lady.”

“Anyway, if we are going to the police, I want to know what I’m saying.” You began, only stopping as you heard the deck of cards he was attempting to shuffle, fall to the floor. “I want you to explain everything.” You continued.

“Maybe not.”

He stops for a moment, as if he was trying to observe something. A silence from him, he failed to even explain his actions any longer.

“What’s that then? Have you got a cat?” He asked you, as he attempted to try and figure out what was going on.

“No.” You answered simply, as you finished up making the coffees. “We did have, but now they’re just strays. They come in off the estate.” You continued, as you picked up the two mugs of coffee and bought them into the living room with you. You placed them down on the coffee table in front of you, finally taking in the mess that was your living room.

“I told Mickey to chuck that out. You’re all the same. Give a man a plastic hand. Anyway, I don’t even know your name. Doctor what was it?” You asked, no sooner than you had. The plastic arm had attached itself to your face. You were barely, still able to breathe.

The Doctor, quick on his feet, pulled at it. Which only made matters worse, as he did, you both fell onto and crashed through the glass coffee table. Pieces of glass, and other matter flew everywhere as your bodies collided with it. He decides to use the metallic device that he had used the previous night to open the fire exit door, which finally pulls the arm off of your face. He then jabs the device into the palm of the hand, which stops the fingers from moving. The life from the object, seemed to have been drained.

“It’s alright, I’ve stopped it. There you go, you see. Armless.” He explained.

“Do you think?” You asked him, as you hit him with it.

“Ow.”

--

As soon as the Doctor had come, he was off again. But, you couldn’t let him leave until you had some sort of answers. A clear story in your head if you will. So, you decided to follow him down the stairwell.

“Hold on a minute. You can’t just go swanning off.” You protested.

“Yes I can. Here I am. This is me, swanning off. See ya.”

“But that arm was moving, it tried to kill me.” You said, voice raised slightly from a mixture of fear and annoyance.

“Ten out of ten for observation.”

“You can’t just walk away. That’s not fair. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.” You all but begged. Once you had the answers, you could easily drop it and go on with your normal everyday life, treating the cause of these events as some sort of anomaly.

“No I don’t.” He stated simply.

You had found yourself outside, still chasing after him.

“All right, then. I’ll go to the police. I’ll tell everyone. You said, if I did that I’d get people killed. So, your choice. Tell me, or I’ll start talking.” You threatened. Which caused him to stop and turn around, allowing you to catch up to him a little bit.

“Is that supposed to sound tough?” He asked, flippantly.

“Sort of.”

“Doesn’t work.”

“Who are you?” You asked.

“Told you, the Doctor.”

“Yeah, but Doctor what?” You questioned.

“Just the Doctor.”

“The Doctor.” You repeated.

“Hello.”

“Is that supposed to sound impressive?” You asked.

“Sort of.”

“Come on, then. You can tell me. I’ve seen enough. Are you the police?” You enquired.

“No, I was just passing through. I’m a long way from home.”

“But what have I done wrong? How comes those plastic things are after me?” You couldn’t quite understand it all. It all just seemed a bit much. From your understanding, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet, these things still seemed to want to haunt you.

“Oh, suddenly the entire world revolves around you. You were just an accident. You got in the way, that’s all.” He explained.

“It tried to kill me.”

“It was after me, not you. Last night, in the shop, I was there, you blundered in, almost ruined the whole thing. This morning I was tracking it down, it was tracking me down. The only reason it fixated on you, is ‘cos you’ve met me.”

“So what you’re saying is, the entire world revolves around you.” You stated sarcastically.

“Sort of, yeah.”

“You’re full of it.” You teased.

“Sort of, yeah.”

“But all this plastic stuff, who else knows about it?” You asked, your inquisitive nature getting the better of you.

“No one.”

“What, you’re on your own?”

“Well, who else is there? I mean, you lot, all you do is eat chips, go to bed and watch telly, while all the while underneath you there’s a war going on.” He explained.

“Ok. Start from the beginning. I mean, if we are going to go with the living plastic, and I don’t even believe that, but if we do, how’d you kill it?”

“The thing controlling it projects life into the arm. I killed the signal dead.”

“So, that’s radio control?” You asked.

“Thought control. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. So who’s controlling it then?”

“Long story.”

“But what’s it all for? I mean shop window dummies, what’s that all about? Is someone trying to take over Britain’s shops?” You questioned, with a slight giggle.

“No.”

“No.”

“It’s not a price war. They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you. Do you believe me?” He queried.

“No.” You responded simply.

“But you’re still listening.”

“Really though Doctor, tell me. Who are you?” You asked. He took your hand in his before answering

“Do you know like we were saying about the Earth revolving? It’s like when you’re a kid. The first time they tell you that the world’s turning and you can’t quite believe it because everything looks like it’s standing still. I can feel it. The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We’re falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world and if we let go.” He began, as he let go of your hand.

“That’s who I am, now forget me Y/N Tyler. Go home.” He instructed, as he headed towards a blue police box with the arm in tow.

You turn around, deciding to go to Mickey’s as luckily he had a computer. Before you could go much further though, you heard a strange noise. You looked back over your shoulder to see that the police box was gone, something was definitely going on and you needed to find out what.

[readingismyoxygen]

Married to a stranger ch1

ch1 / ch2 / ch 3

Wally woke up groggy, his head feeling like he ran into a wall face-first at high speed. He looked around, still a bit disoriented, but quickly started to feel agitated and on edge because of the unfamiliar room he was in. He started panicking a bit, trying to remember what happened. He had been running around Central City at night, looking out for potential trouble, when something came at him out of nowhere, and- after that he woke up in this room, which looked a bit like someone had carved it out of a rock. There was a sturdy looking wooden door reinforced with iron strips, and it had to have some kind of dampening technology, because when he tried to phase through it, nothing happened. He started to worry more and more as he tried and failed to get out. His comms didn’t work either, and while he could try and get out through the walls, he had no idea how thick they were and wasn’t really willing to take the risk and get stuck in them. What the hell was going on?

~~

Marinette awoke, dazed and in pain. She had been patrolling the city, getting out her anxious energy that hadn’t left her since defeating Gabriel a month and a half ago.  How did she get here? She tried to remember what happened. While she was patrolling, explosions had suddenly gone off throughout the whole city, most of them in places with a lot of people. Horrified, she had casted her Cure to try and save them, but because it wasn’t caused by a Miraculous and there were so so many victims, the Cure had taken more out of her then usual. Everything was restored, but she was swaying on her legs. She just remembered seeing a shadowed person on the roof with her, before -nothing. She still felt weak, like ten akuma’s had decided to gang up on her, and while she could vaguely sense she was in some kind of cell, she felt her consciousness slowly slipping away again. I’m sorry, Tikki, I failed.

~~

He didn’t know how long he had been waiting in that chamber, pacing around and trying to lose some of that nervous energy without literally pacing a hole in the floor. Suddenly, he heard the lock of the door click, but before he could make a move to escape, he suddenly felt all his energy drain away. Dazed, he looked at the person who entered. There wasn’t a lot to see, just a figure hidden in a dark cloak. He was holding a device and pointing it at the speedster, the end glowing with a bluish light. 

“Why hello young speedster, glad to see you’re awake now”, a cold and heavy voice said from under the hood of the cloak. “You’re coming with me now, and don’t even try to run off, my power dampening gun will make sure you don’t get very far. Grab him boys.”

Two men came up to Wally from outside the cell, and though Wally tried to struggle, the gun made him feel weak and dizzy, and unable to shake off the two burly guards. They led him to another room, where he found an unconcious girl in a very curious outfit. She was wearing a black cheongsam with red lining that fell to her knees, and because she was lying on her side with her back turned to him, he could see an emblem of a ladybug surrounded by an intricate pattern of lines. Underneath that she was wearing black boots with the same red lining as the top. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw raven hair tied in a bun, with strands that had fallen out.

“Who is that? Why is she here? Better yet, why am I here? What in the world is going on? Just who do you think you are kidnapping me? You know you won’t get away with this, my teammates and I won’t let you!”

The person let out a short laugh.

“You can try. Now be a good boy and be still, or you will have the death of the people of Central City on your conscience. There are twenty bombs planted throughout your city, and if you don’t cooperate, we will set them off.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Sh-she’s not.” The girl! She woke up!

~~

Marinette heard voices around her, and tried to follow the conversation without giving any sign she was awake.

“-death of the people of Central City on your conscience. There are twenty bombs planted throughout your city, and if you don’t cooperate, we will set them off.”

So it wasn’t just with her that they had prepared that trick. She recognized the voice to be female, and that she was talking about Central City. If it was about saving people, did that mean she kidnapped someone from Flash's team as well to wherever they were?

“You’re bluffing.” The voice sounded young, so most likely Kid flash if her theory about the superheroes was correct. Still, she could at least warn them to be careful with this woman, she knew from experience they wouldn’t hesitate to kill innocents.

“Sh-she’s not.” She managed to get out. She still didn’t feel that well, but at least managed to sit up. She noticed her yo-yo was gone, but that was a problem for later. She  turned around to face the two and noticed that there were also two guards holding, as she suspected, Kid Flash. She tried to look as inconspicuous as possible to not give their kidnappers any sign of her formulating an escape plan. Her next words she spoke directly to the young hero.

“S-she attacked my home town, Paris, blowing up places like the Eiffel Tower and Arc De Triomphe. I managed to reverse it, but it took all my strength and made me end up in here. Please don’t do anything rash.”

~~

Wally had so many questions. She was from Paris, and now able to see her face and the mask she wore to conceal it, wondered if she was a hero as well. And  what did she mean by ‘reversing the damage’? 

“Ah, Ladybug, how kind of you to finally get up”, the cloaked figure said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

The girl -Ladybug, apparently- turned to the woman and glared. Hard. She looked honestly terrifying, a fire behind her eyes that silently made him glad he wasn’t the one she turned that expression on.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but you better start explaining where we are and why, or I’m going to make you regret bombing Paris and threatening someone else’s city.” Did he imagine it or did her hair really start floating up a bit around her face? She emanated some sort of aura, he wasn’t really sure how to describe it accurately, the only word that came to mind was magic. He knew it existed, had always believed in it (despite often  claiming not to just to agonize everyone around him), but never before had he felt the power rolling off of someone in such strong waves. Not even Doctor Fate had given him this kind of feeling. Her blue eyes, hidden behind a black mask with red lining to match the theme of her clothing, seemed to glow, and now he was even more glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of that frightening stare.

The cloaked figure set a step back for a bit, but regained composure quickly and tried to brush it off.

“Now, now, no need to be so aggressive, I will gladly answer your questions, but know, Miss Ladybug, that I will not tolerate being spoken to like that again. As you know, there is still a city full of explosives that could go off at any time.”

That threat seemed to have effect, because he saw her calm down slightly.

“That’s better. You can call me Crow, and though it might not seem like that, you are here for a joyous occasion.”

“And just what might that ‘joyous occasion’ be?” He blurted before he could stop himself.

“Why, your wedding of course!”

“WHAT?!”

[secret-vore-lair]

I’d love to have you for dinner

After responding to a dragon’s request, Aspen finds herself getting very close to Mally. Contains nervous prey, a comforting pred, and mentions of digestion. This turned out longer than I thought, so I’ll just post this for now, and post a part two later. Enjoy!

***********************************************

Aspen glanced up at the foreboding cave mouth before her and pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She’d worn it because of the light chill today, just enough of a breeze that her soft purple fur didn’t quite do enough to keep her comfortable on its own. She looked down at the address she’d written out earlier, to make sure she was in the right place. The paper read, “0000 That One Big Cave with the Tree Growing out of the Top of It, You Can’t Miss It.” She sighed. Yep. No denying it. She was here. She could even feel the warm air rising from the gaping cavern. Still, she had chills. She was embarrassed and nervous, and nervous about being embarrassed, and, yes, a little frightened too. But she took a deep breath in, her ears folding back, and forced herself to take those first steps forward.

Her hooves clicked on the floor of the cave as she walked down the shallow incline, noting with a hushed whimper the sheer size of the passageway. Just another reminder she was walking into the clutches of a dragon. Which of course is where she wanted to be, but still. She couldn’t help but feel this way. She was just an ordinary goat, after all, and her prey instincts were such that even the idea of something like Mally was enough speed up her heart. She’d never done this with a dragon before. . .

Aspen eventually made it to the cave’s central chamber. The heat here was intense enough that she could feel herself starting to sweat, and as she stood in the wide expanse of grey stone, her slight frame felt, to her at least, like a comically small addition to the vast room. “H-Hello?” she called out softly, then cleared her throat and repeated the greeting, a little louder this time.

She heard Mally before she saw her, and she heard her in stages. First, the scraping of thick scales on stone. Followed by a deep, echoing yawn. Then came the lazy groans and the thuds of tired dragon claws lifting a chubby dragon body from the ground. Finally, the quaking steps that heralded the arrival of—

Oh gosh, she was gorgeous. Apen’s muzzle dropped open and her cheeks flushed hot pink as Mally wound her way into the room, stumbling a little, her mane a frazzled mess of draconic bedhead.

“Hrmmm. . . Aspen? Right? Sorry, time must’ve gotten away from me. It’s one of the few things that does.” The dragon flashed her fanged grin, her teeth gleaming even more than her emerald scales. She rubbed the sleep from one glossy red eye.

Aspen squeaked softly, then forced her words to be words and said, “That’s me! Yes! Hi. Hello. Wow. Hi. I mean, nice to m-meet you!” Her tuft of a tail twitched wildly as she kept her arms clutched tight around her body.

“Pleasure’s all mine, love,” Mally purred, looking her over. “You seem a little shy. Anything I can do to help soothe those nerves? I want to help you relax.” Wisps of steam billowed out of her nostrils.

Aspen chuckled nervously and rubbed her head, scratching behind her curved horns. “I-I’ll be okay. I’ve just never done this with someone as big as you before. I guess I’m a little intimida—” Before she had even finished speaking, though, Mally had begun to change before her eyes. Where once there was a towering dragon looming over her on all fours, there now stood a bipedal winged reptile, still towering over her but only by a foot or two. “—ted.” She felt her face grow hotter still.

“In that case,” Mally said with a playful flick of her tail, “How’s this? Better? Or did you want to be intimidated? Because I can do that too.”

“N-No, this is fine! This is great, actually. Ahem. I just . . . don’t want to make this harder for you. It would be easier for you at your regular size, right?” Aspen saw that Mally now held out a claw, and she took it. The dragon began to lead her, taking her out of the huge chamber and into a cozy alcove with a bed. Several stacks of books were piled next to it.

“Easier, perhaps. But less rewarding, I think. This way you’ll fill me up completely and then some. And I have some reading I’ve been meaning to catch up on, which is far easier in this shape. So long as you don’t mind being packed in a little tight, I’m more than happy to take you in this way.” She sat down on the bed with a creak, and Aspen did the same beside her. “Now, your messages to me indicated you hadn’t done this before. But you have at least been eaten, yes?”

Aspen looked down at their still-entwined hands and nodded. It was strange. Mally was blazingly hot. In the temperature sense. And the other sense too. And yet despite the discomfort that was causing her, she found herself leaning on the dragon, actively craving proximity to her. She didn’t even want to part from Mally for the few seconds it would take to remove her coat. She ran her tongue around the inside of her dry mouth and said, “Yes, I’ve been eaten. A few times. But never, um, you know. . .”

“Digested?”

Aspen shivered. “Mhm. If I can’t even say it, I’m probably not ready to do it, huh?”

Mally gave her hand a squeeze. “Lots of people have a hard time saying it. It’s okay. Just because you’re shy about it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it. I’m here to help you explore. And also to get a free meal, of course.” She giggled. “If you think you’re ready, we can do it, and if not, don’t worry about it. I can just swallow you. Or we can just cuddle a while! And you can change your mind at any time. I’ll be paying close attention to you.”

Aspen nodded, and met Mally’s eyes, her own oddly shaped pupils distorted by her tearing up with relief. She wiped them and sat up a little straighter. “I think. . . If I had the chance to become part of someone like you and didn’t take it, I’d regret it forever. So, um. Would you please d-digest me, Mally?”

“Naturally, sweetie. Headfirst okay?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Aspen watched, hypnotized as the dragon’s maw opened ever wider before her, and shut her eyes as Mally tilted up her chin. A moment later she was contained in blissful warmth as slick, supple flesh took hold all around her head, a stifling and salivary grip that elicited a soft moan from Aspen as her body relaxed and she gave in completely.

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

Chilly mornings away from home

January 2019 // Chapter 4

Soft piano notes waded their way into my mind, rousing me from sleep. Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 1” complemented streaks of sunlight that seeped in from cracks between the window shutters.

I rolled onto my stomach, patting along the bedsheets, searching for the alarm’s source. Locating my iPhone under a fluffy body pillow, I quickly tapped the snooze button, earning myself nine more minutes of repose.

Mornings were always so disorienting. I still had yet to remember where and when I was. Such things could wait. Clinging onto that snoozy state of nonexistence, I didn’t want to wake up. I was eager for unmindfulness.

Inevitably coming to, dizziness hit like a military grade tank as I realized that my bed was facing the wrong way. My morning senses spun westward from their southern-facing expectations. Cracking my eyes open a few nanometers more, baby blue walls, rather than white, met my gaze. I faced a medium size flatscreen TV set atop a brown cabinet bordered by cream, cushioned seats and a black mini-refrigerator.

It was so easy to be surprised by mornings. Here I was, expecting one thing and receiving another. It wasn’t a huge deal, and they were natural mistakes, but jeez, was I caught off guard. My bed typically faced a window on the southern side of my room in Berkeley, confined by white walls under high ceilings. Unlike my room in Berkeley, however, the ceilings in this place were much lower with windows much wider. My forgetfulness fading, I remembered why I was in this barely decent Denver hotel room, namely, for a job interview.

Grimacing, I also remembered that the aforementioned job interview had taken place yesterday—giving me a sense for why I might have preferred snoozy states of nonexistence to waking life. It was for some technician role at a Pharma-lab. And while they didn’t pay anything close to what Ajay would be receiving at Facebook (while still remaining just as controversial), money was money. Plus, it seemed like a good way to boost my med school app during the summer. Worst case scenario: I’d just spend the upcoming summer studying for the MCAT, which had to happen sooner or later. At this rate, however, it was looking like the worst case scenario would be my only scenario.

Oh well. With a redeye flight the next morning and the interview out of the way, I had a day to kill in Denver. Classes were still on hold for another week-and-a-half and since everyone was home for the holidays, Grace had offered to put me up at her place for the day. She was supposed to come by around nine AM to pick me up.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled up the blanket. The AC units at hotels were always freezing cold—particularly on especially inconvenient occasions, like now, right smack in the middle of a January morning. I flipped over my phone and turned off the alarm. The clock read seven-twenty-one AM. Just enough time to get ready and grab a quick bite before Grace was to arrive.

My hands smacked against the headboard of the bed mid-stretch, my wrists rolling as I struggled to fully wake up. Sitting up, I checked my phone for missed messages, sending out short, succinct text messages where they were needed. I cracked my neck and thrust my legs off the tall bed, my feet grazing the hotel carpet. I stood up, stretching my arms toward the spinning fan that hung from the low ceiling, and started toward the bathroom, tossing my iPhone onto the bathroom counter.

The shower roared to life with the turn of a knob. I grabbed a hotel-provided toothbrush and some paste on my way to the shower, along with a travel-size bottle of CeraVe foaming face wash. Inside, water rushed over my short, black hair, splashing onto medium broad shoulders and size ten-and-a-half feet as I washed my face. After mopping my chest, toes, and everything in-between with an ivory bar of soap, I squirted some toothpaste onto the brush and got to work, counting out one-hundred-twenty seconds in my head. Finally, I turned off the water and reached around the shower curtain for a towel. Drying myself off, I stepped out of the shower and packed up my bath supplies into a compact travel bag.

I shook the towel over my head to dry my hair and tapped on my iPhone screen to find one new notification. Hovering my face over the phone to unlock it, a blue message from Maddie read:

To which I replied:

She followed with:

Heart racing, I replied:

Two minutes passed. I held my breath.

Four minutes—then, a small blurb of text underneath my last message read:

Read 7:46 AM

I sighed and put down my phone. My face contorted as a profusion of expletives rushed my thoughts. Shouldn’t have double-texted her.

I supposed that it didn’t matter too much. She was with someone, anyway. When I’d seen her in December, before we’d left for winter holidays, she’d been at Bear’s Ramen House in the Asian Ghetto—the food hub a block from Sproul Hall—eating with some guy I’d seen around, probably on campus. He was a moderately wealthy, white kid from Marin studying one of the various biology sub-majors offered by Cal. He was also a junior, like Maddie, so a year ahead of me, as if his towering six-foot-three-inch figure wasn’t enough to give him a leg up on me with regards to Maddie. I didn’t know him all that well, despite having had a discussion section or two with him, though we greeted each other with a polite nod of the head when passing by one another in the Valley Life Sciences Building (VLSB) or in the library. To be honest, I didn’t even remember his name, just his face. His outfits often consisted of athleisure wear from Nike and/or Champion, giving off the impression that he played sports. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not this impression was accurate, but I did sometimes see him on the Glade or other grassy campus sites playing Spikeball, accompanied by peers with faces I vaguely recognized.

We’d often talk, Maddie and I. Sometimes I’d run into her on the spiral staircase at VLSB—the stairs that’d curl around the large, plaster T-Rex model to face broad windows on the east, granting access to the morning sun. She’d be on her way to a bio lab downstairs; me, on my way to the private, grad student bathroom that I’d secretly gained access to on the second floor. The restroom upstairs was protected by a keypad, but the code was too obvious: 362 362, or DNA DNA.

“Wonder where you could be going,” she’d say.

“Just need to make sure my hair is okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to get a few extra points from Professor Meighan,” I’d joke back.

“Do you poop here everyday?” she’d ask with wide eyes. “Or maybe you just like seeing me, huh? Is that it?”

I’d freeze up.

She’d laugh, saying, “Maybe a little bit of both, right, J?”

“Nothing gets past you,” I’d mumble.

“You’re funny,” she’d say. “You should have your own TV show. Maybe once you’re done with your residency you can join Grey’s Anatomy, or Scrubs. Or maybe you can have a talk show! Like Dr. Phil, but more funny and less depressing.”

“What about me gives off the impression that I’d ever want to have a TV show, at all, in any way whatsoever?” I’d say, shaking my head.

“See? Just like that! Always asking the right questions! Like Ellen DeGeneres but all doctor-like.”

She tended to tease me a lot. I didn’t mind. In fact, it was probably part of her appeal—definitely was, on second thought.

Like a good portion of the many pre-med students out there, Maddie was a biology major. Berkeley offered a few different options for bio students, and I’m pretty sure she was studying molecular and cellular biology, though it’s hard for me to say. If I wanted to remember something about her, I’d write it down in my iPhone notes. Otherwise, my hippocampus tended to toss it out, preferring to form memories of her nose, her lips, and those low cut shirts that left me off balance.

We’d text back-and-forth about classes, sometimes. A lot less after I saw her eating with what’s-his-face. I didn’t blame her.

My phone read eight AM. I tossed on a waffle knit shirt and long johns, then a Columbia fleece and Levi jeans, topping it off with an aged ski jacket that I’d ‘borrowed’ from Adam, who was up in Tahoe at least twice a month in the winter. I slung the beaten, black JanSport backpack containing my belongings over my shoulders and headed out the hotel door, making for the elevator.

The room door shut quietly behind as I banked right into a narrow corridor housing four elevators, two on each side. I pressed a button to summon one and within a minute, the light above the furthest elevator on my right blinked on. The door opened and I entered, clicking the button indicating the main lobby of the hotel. The door shut and the elevator fell five floors before slowing to let in an older, Black woman wearing a fitted, bell-shaped hat.

“Ground floor?” I asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, honey. Thank you.”

We descended the final four floors in silence. Arriving at the ground floor, the elderly woman smiled and nodded at me before exiting first. I followed her out, glanced down at my iPhone, then diverged from her path as I headed toward the central lobby to check out. After snapping my room key card in half, I left the hotel, walking toward a Caribou Coffee a few blocks north.

Under the warm skies of Seal Beach, California, where I was born and raised, people tended to take their coffee with ice more often than here in Denver, Colorado. Every Friday, my mother would pick up an americano for herself—black, with no cream or sugar—on her way to work. I’d tag along as a kid, but sooner than later elementary school drop-offs morphed into middle school bike rides, then high school walks with pretty girls I swore I had a chance with, and then the here-and-now, flying Economy for interviews that wouldn’t yield job offers.

It’s funny—when I was a kid I practically hated being seen with my parents. At back-to-school events—the evenings when parents conglomerated to celebrate the annual accomplishments of their children—I wouldn’t be caught dead near my family. Somehow, I thought it made me look childish, or immature. After graduating from high school, however, I started seeing them less and less, and I began to find myself missing mom’s morning espresso runs more and more.

It seemed as though I must have picked up my mother’s coffee drinking habits, because when I arrived at the Caribou Coffee on sixteenth street at approximately eight-twenty-five AM, I too ordered an americano with no cream or sugar.

“That comes out to three-thirty-nine,” said the female barista. She wore a black apron over red and black striped under-layers, with a white wool beanie on her head, and deep black mascara on her eyelashes.

I thanked her and handed over three dollar bills along with some loose change from my jacket pocket.

“On second thought,” I said, retracting my hand. “Can I also get one of those?” I gestured to a blueberry scone behind the glass counter.

“Sure. Just three extra dollars.” she said.

I counted out three extra dollar bills, handing the money to the barista. Then I walked over to a small rounded table situated near the entrance and sat down. Scanning my iPhone, I saw that Grace had texted me, so I responded, asking her to pick me up at the Denver sixteenth street Caribou Coffee. Then I put my phone away and tapped silently along the underside of the table, slightly impatient for my pastry and drink.

I wondered what Grace had in mind for the day. I hadn’t seen her since—well, I suppose it wasn’t that long ago—final exams last semester. Personally, Grace and I had yet to have a class together, but Adam always took one or two bullshit classes with her, so she was often around my house anyway—especially during the week of final exams, when they’d study together all day long. As an English major, she had it pretty easy schedule-wise. She hardly stressed, at least outwardly, and was rarely overburdened with work, so she never missed a chance to chat it up with my housemates or me when Adam brought her over. She was really likable too. Even Albert got along with her, making small talk about Proust or the latest Pulitzer Prize winning novel from Jennifer Egan, and that’s saying a lot.

She always made it a point to stop by my room upstairs, at 2231 Dwight, waving ‘hello’ to me before vanishing for hours into the recesses of Adam’s single downstairs. I really liked that about her.

A small vibration from my left pant pocket convinced me to reach in. I pulled out my iPhone and saw that Grace had texted me. She was to arrive a bit early, in fifteen or so, around eight-fifty-five AM. She was driving in a black Honda Civic, she’d said. I texted her back to let her know that I’d be ready.

“I’ve got a medium americano and a blueberry scone!” called the barista.

I stood up, pulling my jacket over the chair to mark my temporary territory, then hurried over to the counter to grab my order. “Thanks,” I said before hurrying back to my table, balancing the warm, paper cup in one hand with the scone in the other.

Sitting back down at the table, I huffed down the scone. Then I took off the lid of the cup, wisps of steam condensing on the furl of my lip. I blew gently, cooling the drink.

I sipped slowly, then decided to put on my jacket and wait outside. Grace would be here any minute and I didn’t want her to miss me. I was getting sick of waiting by myself anyway. Walking outside, an icy burst of air cut right through me. I shivered, then zipped up Adam’s ski jacket. It was a good thing that it wasn’t snowing, because it was cold enough as it was.

I paced around for a bit, rubbing my hands to keep warm, until finally, a black Honda Civic with a freckled girl at its helm slowed to a stop slightly ahead of the sixteenth street coffee shop.

Grace rolled down the passenger window. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. My pace quickened as my feet approached her car.

“I missed you, dude,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing outside.” A crimson hoodie hid most of her delicate contours, though the graceful arcs that formed over her breasts hinted at something more. The left side of her chest housed a star-shaped sports logo with the words ‘Broomfield Soccer Club’ below in a decorative typeface.

I opened the car door and hopped into the passenger seat. Gusts of warm air ruffled my hair.

She reached over the center console and squeezed me in a close hug. “How was break?”

“Pretty good. I mean, I was finally able to—”

“Bruh,” she groaned. “Did you read Science?”

“What?”

“The magazine,” she said, squinting her eyes.

I cocked my head to the side. “Was I supposed to?”

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can you?”

“Is there something I should be looking for?”

“Oh my god. Take out your phone.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Jesus-fucking-Christ, J.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling the iPhone from my jean pocket.

“Okay.” She cracked her finger knuckles. “Google ‘butterflies’.”

“Grace—” I started.

“Come on. Look it up.”

“Okay. Just because you’re asking.” I opened Chrome’s mobile browser on my phone, typed in ‘butterflies’, and pressed ‘search’.

She cleared her throat.

“Butterfly,” I read. “An insect from the ma-cro-lep-id-opt-er-an clade Rho-pal-o-cer-a, from the order Lep-id-op-tera—”

“No!” She snatched my phone and scrolled down. “Here. California’s monarch butterfly count drops by eighty-six percent, just last year!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is butterfly watching a hobby you picked up over break or something?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

I coughed to cover a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t know you took butterflies so seriously.”

“God, and I’m supposed to go to a guy like you for my yearly checkups?” she gasped.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Grace—”

“I don’t want to hear it, insect-killer.” She blew aside a tuft of hair from her forehead. “So, how was it?”

“How was what?”

“How was break?”

“Oh. Right,” I said. “Well, I finally got around to watching that show you and Adam were talking about last semester.”

“Peaky Blinders?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, it’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I really like Tommy’s brother, Arthur. I think he’s funny. I’m not too sure how I feel about Polly yet, though, but then again I’m only on season three.”

“Adam fucks with Arthur too. Personally, I’m more of a John-kinda-person. I think he’s less murderous than Arthur. Kills too much. How’s Adam doing, though?”

“Honestly, you probably know better than me. Haven’t seen him since we left for home.”

“I feel it.”

Grace made a sharp right onto the I-25 freeway, accelerating until our speed plateaued around ninety miles per hour. I gripped the sides of my seat—ninety was a little too fast for my tastes. I considered myself a defensive driver. Dull buildings bordered the freeway shoulders, and I tried to focus on them to distract myself from Grace’s driving.

“What do you say we stop by a park or something, J? Not really tryna see my parents right now.” Grace glanced at me, her hands still on the wheel.

I felt a bit queasy watching her take her eyes off the road. “Yeah, works for me. Something going on?”

“Eh, the usual. Just get sick of ‘em being home for so long,” she said. “But anyhow, I have a ball in the trunk. We can kick it around or some shit.”

The road grew bumpier as we drove over a waterway on the way to Grace’s neighborhood. Spoiled by scenic coastal sights on the drive up to Berkeley, the glum scenes around me felt sobering. I tapped my foot, eager to get out of the car.

Eventually, Grace took exit 225 on the right, keeping left to merge onto East One-hundred-thirty-sixth Avenue. We passed a stucco structure with a sign that read ‘Broomfield’.

“Almost there,” said Grace. “I know just the spot.”

Finally, Grace made a left into a small parking lot bordered by bright green, grassy fields on one end and unkempt trails on the other. “Quail park. I grew up playing soccer here.”

I looked around. I was glad to be there—it certainly yielded better views than the drive had. “It’s pretty.”

Grace popped open the trunk and pulled out a soccer ball and pump. She filled it with air quickly, then gestured for me to carry the ball. We walked over to the open fields, brushing permafrost aside as we squished the grass beneath our feet. Back and forth, we kicked the ball to one another, Grace showing off every now and then by booting the ball over her head and onto her knees, juggling it for ten, maybe twenty bounces before passing it back to me.

“So?” she said. “Did you kill the interview?”

I winced. “Not exactly.”

Grace toed the ball inward, using its momentum to whip the ball onto the flat of her foot. With a touch of force, she tapped the ball into the air and into her hands. “Come on, J. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

I smiled a bit. “It really was though.”

She laughed and dropped the ball to her feet. Passing it back to me, she said, “Ah, whatever. You don’t want to work in Denver anyway. You’re not cut out for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at you. You’ve been shivering your ass off since I picked you up, dummy. And I have heated seats!” she said.

“Hey,” I started. “You’re not wrong.”

“Rarely am. Anyhow, how are things with, uh, you know . . .”

“Maddie?” I finished.

“Yes, right, Maddie.”

“She texted me this morning.”

“Oooooh,” said Grace. “How’s Brandon gonna feel about that?”

Ah, right, Brandon. How could I forget?

“Brandon . . . Right. Well, I doubt that it’s a major concern of his at the moment. She left me on read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, it’s her loss anyhow. She’s missing out on a star athlete!” said Grace as she punted the ball, knocking me square in the chest.

“Fucking shit!” I howled.

“You sound like Adam more and more everyday,” she said.

“So dreams do come true.”

“Isn’t it funny,” said Grace, juggling the ball on her quads. “Don’t you feel like certain words belong to certain people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, don’t you associate certain words with certain people? Like every swear word with Adam, for example, and or maybe, I’m sure there are some you have in mind for Maddie or whoever.”

“You sure you’re not projecting, Grace?” I asked.

This time she threw the ball at me, and it proceeded to hit me right on the head. We kicked around for another hour or so, talking about this or that—how final exams went; our plans for the semester; and Pac-12 Women’s soccer, despite an utter lack of knowledge regarding the sport’s conference on my part. Around five-thirty in the late afternoon, we decided to get something to eat, so Grace drove us to a Vietnamese spot called Golden Bowl Noodle House which she heralded as the greatest phở restaurant on the west coast.

We sat down in blue booth seats across from one another, red and gold walls bordering us on my left. A large, square, green painting depicting an ocean scene lined the wall between us. I ordered the same thing as Grace, the Combo Number One, which consisted of a small rare steak phở, 2 spring rolls, and an iced tea. Grace asked to change hers to a warm tea, which was probably the better move in hindsight. Our drinks arrived first, and we sipped on them slowly. I was hungry—blueberry scones could only provide so much sustenance.

A robed Asian woman, with a slight hunch in her back as she hobbled over, arrived with a tray carrying two bowls of soupy noodles; four translucent wrapped appetizers; and a small dish with bean sprouts, Thai basil, and other add-ons. She bowed slightly and left us to our meals, so I looked over at Grace who had already taken her first bite from a spring roll. I followed her lead, feeling the cool cloak of rice wrappers over fresh shrimp, cilantro, and basil. Taking a bite, my teeth met shrimp with just the right amount of snap, the unexpected tang of hoisin sauce gifting a pleasant surprise.

Grace smacked my hand. “Use the peanut sauce! You gotta appreciate it properly, cuz some people can’t. Did you know that the rate of food allergies is increasing rapid as fuck—especially in developed nations like the US?”

I did as she said, dipping the spring roll into the gloppy, brown sauce. She wasn’t wrong—it was better that way. After swallowing my last bite of the spring rolls, Grace tossed some bean sprouts into my soup and squeezed lime juice over my bowl.

“You know this isn’t my first time eating phở, right?” I said.

Grace hushed me and continued eating. I watched her twirl a handful of noodles into her chopsticks, lifting them to her mouth over a soup spoon. Noisy slurps concluded with sapid bites followed by quick sips of tea. Rinse and repeat.

I opted for a fork, twisting firm noodles around its prongs as best I could, gulping down spoonfuls of savory soup in between steak and noodle bites. I watched the red meat cook to a brownish hue, the hot broth’s steam parting like sea waves under my chin.

“I’ll give it to you,” I said. “It’s good.”

Grace glanced at me, nodded, and continued eating. Finishing promptly, she leaned back into her chair and exhaled heavily.

I rushed to keep up with her, but it took me significantly longer to finish. Sooner or later, the robed woman limped over with the bill. I rose to my feet and met her halfway. I pulled out a Mastercard and slipped it into the folded check before handing it back to her and sitting back down with Grace.

“Real gentleman, aren’t you?”

“It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me today. Besides, you’ve just introduced me to the ‘best phở on the west coast’, right?”

“Suppose that’s true. Okay, you’re right, dinner on you.”

The restaurant owner signaled that I could take back my card, so I walked over, tipped four-and-a-half dollars, tucked away my card, and we left for the car.

Grace’s eyelids were a bit heavy, so I asked her if she wanted me to drive. She handed me her keys and jumped into the passenger seat. After I buckled into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition, she directed me to make a right out of the parking lot. I drove slowly back to her house, which was only ten or so minutes away, then pulled into her garage. The garage led into a two-story, vinyl sided, upper-middle class home with a comely, green lawn out front.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

I followed her over hardwood floors into the living room, where a tall, white man with square sunglasses over his eyes and a black beanie atop his head shuffled through TV channels with a remote. The lights were off in the room even though the sun had set a little less than an hour prior.

“How are you doing, sir?” I asked.

“Wassup?” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “How are you today, sir?”

“All good.” He took a long draw from an IPA resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Catch y’all. Gracey—you got trash, yea?”

Before Grace could reply, a voice called from the kitchen around the corner, “I got today, hun!”

We nodded in acknowledgment to the man and turned to leave. “Must be your dad?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said. And that was the end of it.

I followed Grace into the kitchen. A woman—her mother, presumably—with a polka dot apron around her neck and a noticeable accent in her voice greeted us warmly. I was surprised by the speed of the woman as she rushed me with a sturdy hug, a tactic she then repeated on her daughter.

“Are you Filipino?” she asked, placing a motherly hand on my shoulder.

“No, ma’am.”

“Ayo,” she said. “No problem. Sleep good, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for letting me stay—”

“Sorry about him, mom,” said Grace. She hit me on the back playfully and the two women burst into laughter in unison. “You’re always welcome, J.”

I smiled, said goodbye, and trailed Grace as she led me up a winding staircase to a small bedroom encapsulated by canary yellow walls laden with rooster prints. The room housed a twin bed and two lamps with cube-ish shades. The bedsheets matched the walls, realistic rooster designs corresponding with the overarching theme of the bedroom.

“Don’t ask,” said Grace. “Night, J. Sleep up.”

I hugged Grace and thanked her. “Night.”

It was still early, only six-thirty or so, so I plopped onto the bed and pulled out my iPhone, intent on watching YouTube videos to pass some time. I chuckled to myself as I admired the chicken print theme of the room.

Clicking my phone to life, I was surprised to find text messages from Maddie that read:

I sighed and put the iPhone down as my heart rate spiked into the mid eighties.

[lilslotsofchat]

JUMPER - Four/Billy

i might make this a series. let me know if you like it. this was actaully fun to write. if there is any spelling or sense making problems do let me know. allow the big gaps as well they won’t go. i feel like there needs to be more dialogue in my posts but because i tried to stay close to the original scene in the film there wasn’t much from four.

i hope you enjoyed this

warnings : swearing/ mentions of S*icide/ death/ mentions of bl*od

——————————————————————-

there were seven on the team but eight numbers. one the billionaire an asshole but loveable. two C.I.A Spook french talented. three the hitman confusing but the best of the best. four the sky walker the lover and the thief. five the doctor extremely talented under pressure. six the driver a kid but knows what he’s doing. and finally eight the jumper the lovers other half eight is the teams superhero as six calls her. they were about to do their first mission in florence, italy. the sky walker and the jumper had been tasked to stay in the sky. hidden on rooftops observing what to do and where to go next. one and two went in to get what they needed from the lawyer. five stayed with six in the neon green vehicle. three was waiting with a lorry to do what ever he needed to do when the time came.

four and eight were on the climb to the top of the cathedral. “you need help or no because you’re taking your sweet time” four stated to the woman following him up extending the e on sweet. she flipped him off as she climbed. “just get up there four” eight sarcastically replied to him they made it to the top as the sun started to rise. he helped her over the barrier. then they stood and watched over the city like they had done on many occasions in their relationship. “twos been shot” ones only slightly irritating voice came over the communication system the couple had in their ear. “is she alive” eight asked. four put his hand on top of eights hand it was cold. they had been climbing for many years together and he knew they always were cold after a long climb. “she’s alive” six’s voice echoed over the line. eight let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. four grabbed her hands and brought them into his ones. he pressed his hands to his mouth and breathed into the little pocket he made. slowly warming up her hands. she leaned into his chest after her hands were warm. he wrapped his arms around her body. his fingers rubbing small circles into her spine. they watched the sun rise over the old city. “kids get ready” threes voice interrupted their moment on the top of the cathedral in florence. four let go of his lover and climbed on the railings. “go down to that building babe.” four said she made eye line with the building that four had spotted. she slid down the dome and jumped around the rooftops till she made it to the clock tower that four had directed her to. four saw her rise on the spot he said. she looked up towards him and waved and he waved back. the coms had been quiet from the car for some time and eight was waiting for a call in for her from one. she stood there for ten minutes before moving closer to where the mission started but only a block so it was easier for four to see her to direct her if he needed to.

eight could hear the shouting over the coms system. she looked up at four. he motioned for her to go to them. “one where are you im coming” eight said bouncing across the orange tiles her hoodie getting covered in the dust she was creating. she found an abandoned bike on the side of the road. “by the river. if six wants to hurry up” one replied to his youngest member. she nodded and biked till she saw the river. discarding the bike she jumped on a trash bin and began to scale the side of a building. she pulled out her gun from her backpack. she immediately spotted the glaring green car. “six could you have chosen any other fucking colour of car” her british accent seething at the bright colour that hit the sun in all the wrong angles. “i didn’t have any time eight.” six replied after a moment. the car sped down the road. “couldn’t be any more obvious. four can you see it from there” eight joked as she shot a tire on a moped causing an enemy to fall off. eight had never killed a man in her time of thieving and stealing. one did not believer her but it was true. she had an eye and the mind to see where she wouldn’t kill. four loved this about her. she didn’t want blood on her hands but wanted to help in the most way she could. when one found four he knew about the soon to be eight. four had (luckily in ones case)fallen from a building in ukraine. one had spotted the thieveing couple on his radar as soon as he wanted to build a team. he knew that they were talented and he wanted them both but his rules about loving were going to be hard in their case. he stupidly left the female grieve until she was at the point of ending her own life. he found her on the top of a building where she loved to be but also was about to end what she loved. he saved her life and allowed her to see her lover who she thought was dead. “six really this colour is hurting my fucking eyes.” eight hissed jumping across a block of buildings in seconds. “can you sort us out eight or are you going to complain” one snapped over the coms. eight just laughed and continued to do what she did best. shots were being fired at her but she was able to doge most of them one or two clipped her arms but she did not even realise.

“four where are you” one asked over the coms after some time of eight jumping. “you ask for his help now” eight said. “i’m here” four answered ones question looking to where eight had gone but he had lost her. she was running along the streets acting like a jogger in the morning of florence. she waved at an old lady at a cafe as she spotted the green car. “six can you get the fuck away from busy areas.” she hissed at him. “i am driving as best as i can to get away from these bad guys eight.” six snapped back at his team mate. eight jumped over a bike that had been flung at her. she ran up back alleys to get to the central point that four told her to go to with a bell. she had not a clue what it was called. “i’m where you said four” eight muttered to herself listening to the arguing over the coms. “four where the fuck are you” one snapped again over the line. “where is here” six shouted over his radio. “specificity” one added to six’s comment. eight laughed. “where are you going” four said over the line. eight sat down catching her breath after running for however long she had been. she waited for the green car. she climbed to the top of the bell to see the crew in a courtyard. “final destination shit” she said as she saw the car with poles all in the window. dropping back down as the car came speeding in her direction. “not yet” she said to herself as she watched it pass under her. she waited another ten minutes. “fake em out six. eight on you babe” four said after a moment of time and engines getting louder in her direction. she saw to SUVs come into the bell statue and the green car hid under it. she saw four slide on a skate board. she grabbed a gun and shot out the tires of the car that four had not dealt with. he looked up at her and watched at the green car vanished away again. “come to me kid” three called over the line. four grabbed her as she dropped from the banister on the bell stand. they ran to the lorry and he shielded her his hand on her back running ducked down to three.

they followed the carnage to where the green car was going. four held onto the rope in the back of the lorry and eight gripped onto him as three sped up when he heard the yelling pick up over the radio. “oh shit” six’s voice was filled with worry and a crash was heard. three stopped the lorry and four held onto eight tighter to keep them from falling over. eight immediately opened the door to the lorry and jumped out her gun held up. one two and five were running away from the neon green car that was hidden behind a forklift. “where’s-“ fours statement was cut short by him walking closer to see six impaled in the neck and chest by the teeth of the forklift. eight out her hand to her mouth and tears formed in her eyes. the whole team knew six for two months. he was so talkative and really lifted the crews spirits when they were overthinking this mission. he would never be quiet about his past life racing as he called it. no one really knew what he did or even his name. six was fours buddy and they were together a lot of the time. eight and six formed a friendship which was full of jokes and late nights talking about their past which one disagreed with. six wanted to drive cars for the team and he really enjoyed it when he drove the from the graveyard to the diner he enjoyed it. six took joy out of small things. eight watched blood drip from six’s body. she let a tear slip down her cheek. “fuck” she said walking over to the car. “eight we have to go.” one said. she looked back. and then opened the passenger seat car door. she used her hands to reverse the car and six’s body slumped on top of hers as the tooth cane out of the poor boys neck. she let out a gasp. four grabbed the dead mans shoulders and held them up as eight opened the car door on six’s side. the pair of them grabbed his dead weight body and took it to the lorry they put him in the back and eight pulled off her jumper and placed it over his face. four pulled her in for a hug and just held him as they both looked down at the dead man on the floor of the lorry.

one ushered them all to the boat. four and three carried six’s now stiff body to the old rickety boat that barley moved. they placed him in the clear body bag. “can i get something” eight asked just before the boat was ready to leave. one nodded and let her go. four walked to the back to watch her. she ran over to get a flower from the ones growing next to the water. she chose one quickly and ran back over. four held his hand out and helped her across the plank and then put it on the back of the boat. he let her go before himself and she walked towards the group at the back. the group had changed and five had tended to the gashes on eights arms from the bullets that brushed her sleeves. she thanked the woman before going to change herself. one threw their gear off side of the boat before telling three to pick up the pace on the boat driving. three drove the boat for at least two hours before one said it was time to send six to his watery grave. “this is sad.” eight said to four as they watched the water move slowly. “i know.” four muttered to her his hand on the small of her back. she looked down at the flower she grabbed, realising she grabbed two. “one can i put this in” she said showing just one flower. one nodded and let her tuck the flower into six’s hands. she kissed her fingertips and pressed them to her forehead. one let her zip up the bag. “toast to six” three asked, the crew took a sip of rum before looking back down at the young man in front of them. “we didn’t even know his name” eight said to the group. they all frowned other than one who just looked down that the man they lost dressed in white and covered in red. “yeah what was his name one” three asked their leader. one rose his hand to shake off the question. “doesn’t matter he’s dead now” one said costly but eight seemed to notice the care in his tone. “did he have a family” five asked. two looked around and spoke up. “i think you’re looking at it.” one looked mad. he and eight blocked out the conversation. eight leaned over the side of the boat and watched the body sink to the floor. “rest in peace six” she said as she threw the petals from the flower into the water. she knew that a proper burial couldn’t happen. he was already a gravestone in a graveyard somewhere in america. his family most probably had grieved his death and moved on almost. four held eight closely as the petals soon drifted away from their eyesight. he pressed a kiss to her temple and one scolded them for showing affection but he knew that he allowed for them to meet again in the life of a ghost. he had to understand that they loved each other and they were going to even if they were dead to the world.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 11 Part 2

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 11, cont.

Crowley purred upon seeing the Bentley. It was a little obscene, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t had a day off in ten years. Going for a drive was one of Earth’s greatest pleasures, as far as he was concerned,[1] and he’d been sorely neglecting it. He stroked the door lovingly before letting himself in.

“Don’t get anything on the seat,” he told Adam.

“Er,” Adam said, peering through the back window.

Crowley leaned back to wave him inside and saw somebody already sitting in the back seat.

“Hello,” she said.

Crowley’s mouth dropped open. “Who the Hell are you?”

Aziraphale leaned his head in through the passenger door. He blinked at the woman in the back, as if unclear whether Crowley had left her there by accident.

“My name is Anathema Device,” the woman said.

She was wearing a dramatic green coat and prim, thick-rimmed glasses. Despite the Wiccan-ish aesthetic, there was something stern and school-teachery about her. Crowley had the impression he was about to be told off.

“You’re two minutes late,” she said. Ah. There it was.

Adam decided he might as well sit down. He slipped into the back beside Anathema. She smiled at him.

Crowley made a decision there and then. No more tagalongs. Whoever this person was, she could get lost.

Anathema leaned forwards, business-like. “I’m here about the Antichrist.”

Adam looked offended. A lot of the people he’d met today seemed to have spoken to his mother.

“Nope. That’s it. I’m done with this. I’ve already processed everything I’m willing to hear today. Whatever revelations you’ve got, you can keep. I’m content not knowing everything, I don’t need whatever you’re selling. Get out of my car.”

“You’re going to want to hear this.”

“I definitely won’t. Angel, get in.”

Aziraphale got in the passenger seat. He gave Anathema a polite smile. “Hello, my dear.”

“She’s not your dear. She’s a woman who’s broken into my Bentley and spread patchouli everywhere.”

Anathema sighed. “Please. I didn’t break in, it was unlocked.” At least, it wasn’t locked very well.

“I don’t lock it for a reason. Because nobody touches my car.”[2]

“I remember you,” Adam said to Anathema. “You came round the house. You were trying to give us magazines. You talked to the head of security for ages. Most people don’t get that far.”

Anathema brightened. “Um, actually yes. I was trying to speak to you.”

“Oh. I was round the corner on my Gameboy,” Adam said.

Anathema had spent an interminable forty-five minutes keeping the security guard talking, hoping to catch a glimpse of Adam. “...Oh.”

“I read the magazines, though. They were cool.”

“Oh! I’m glad.”

“We’re actually in a hurry, if nobody minds,” Crowley said, to no-one in particular.

Anathema straightened up. “Right. Allow me to explain. I’m here to prevent the End of Days.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances.

“Oh, that’s not a real thing,” Adam said, confidently. “That’s just stories an alien told me when I was a kid.”

Anathema looked up, sharply. “An alien? There are aliens in the Book…”

She hefted a much-thumbed, elderly tome onto her lap and flicked through it. Aziraphale’s bibliophilic senses rang a faint bell.

“Yeah, I like books with aliens,” said Adam. “This alien was real, though. Actually, there were lots of them. They kept telling me I was going to grow up and destroy humanity and burn the planet to a crisp. And then Hell would defeat Heaven and blah blah blah. I was a bit worried about it all.” Adam scratched his head, near his gem. Anathema’s eyes zoomed in on it. “But it all makes way more sense now I know it was aliens.”

“Oookay. This is pretty big, actually,” Anathema murmured. She was staring at Adam like a rare specialist who had just made the find of their career. “I wasn’t positive, even after everything… but it’s really you, isn’t it?” Her eyes shone with various emotions. Awe was in the mix. So was fear.

“Nanny was definitely an alien,” Adam said, darkly.

Anathema’s eyes flicked down to the open Book on her lap. They fell onto prophecy 1011, And the devile dide saye: we doe notte have time for alle this nonesense.

“We don’t have time for all this nonsense,” Crowley said.

“I know who you are,” Anathema blurted. “Agnes says you’re going to take the Antichrist away. The family don’t all agree where, there are a few different readings, but the important thing is that you won’t succeed. Listen to me. Armageddon will happen here, at this house.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged tense looks.

“No human prophecies have come anywhere near predicting any of this.” Aziraphale craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of the Book. “Did you say Agnes, my dear -?”

Crowley didn’t like this. Who cared what a prophecy said? He didn’t need strange women popping up and putting him off before they’d even set out.

“You two are in this whole batch of prophecies. You can set things right if you just listen to me and don’t leave. Your only hope to save the Earth is if you do exactly what I say -”

Crowley snapped his fingers. Anathema vanished.

“Crowley!”

“She was wasting our time. And we haven’t got much of that left.”

Crowley gunned the ignition. The Bentley sputtered to joyous life. He jerked the steering wheel and veered out onto the road. He almost took out a pillar box that mysteriously leapt into the air and settled safely a few feet down.

Aziraphale shook his head. “All her things are in the back seat. What if she needs them?”

“Should have thought of that before she touched my Bentley.”

Crowley took a corner at an alarming speed. He mumbled something about the emotional violation.

“I’ll be very cross if you’ve sent her somewhere bad.”

Crowley waved the concern away. He tore down the street. It had been too long since he’d done ninety in central London.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

Aziraphale finished crossing himself and clutched the roof of the car in the apparent hope that he could jimmy himself in place in the event of a crash.

“My old bookshop, if you would be so kind,” he said.

In the back seat, Adam picked up the Book and flipped through it.

~*~

Newton Pulsifer, Witchfinder Private, perched on the edge of the discoloured sofa belonging to his employer, Sergeant Shadwell. He was just starting on his third hour of daily newspaper clippings when a woman tumbled out of the air and landed on top of him.

There was chaos. There was screaming (mostly from Newt). There was shouting (from Shadwell). There were accusations of foul sorcery and witchcraft (from Shadwell; for once in his life, he was spot on).

Eventually, things calmed down enough that Newt noticed the woman was rather attractive, and that she seemed annoyed but not surprised to have teleported to a first-floor flat in Tower Hamlets.

Her name was, apparently, Anathema Device. Well. Why not. Newt recently learned he had an ancestor called Adultery Pulsifer. He wasn’t about to judge.

Anathema surveyed her new lieutenants in her stand against Armageddon. A cigarette-charred man with an ambiguous regional accent and a scowl that could cut rocks. A nervous young man who was vaguely threatening her with a pair of scissors, but who was obviously likelier to injure himself with them than her. And some kind of “painted strumpet” (not Anathema’s words) across the hall who hadn’t shown up to the proceedings so far, but who they could tag in later if things went badly. Not a promising start. Lieutenants might be too strong a word. Sidekicks, then.

It frustrated her, leaving all her possessions behind in the car. Losing the Book would have devastated her, but Agnes had predicted it, so Anathema was prepared. She had compensated for its loss by memorising the remaining prophecies that seemed relevant.

“OK, guys. Is everything clear so far?”

Shadwell glowered. He held something that was apparently a Thundergun. It slightly resembled a bass trombone. He made no move to shoot her, and she doubted anyone had reloaded it any time in the last century, so his grip on it seemed to be for comfort. Newt had put down the scissors as a gesture of magnanimity.

“I think I’ve followed so far,” Newt said. “The world’s going to end. Um, there’s a boy called Adam Dowling who’s the key to everything, but he’s out of range now and there’s nothing anyone can do about that - er -”

Anathema nodded encouragingly.

“- And our job is to take care of stuff here, and hope that the people with this, er, Adam do their part, because otherwise the Earth is doomed,” he finished. Luckily, he’d passed through the barrier of absurdity and into the vista of calm that lay beyond.

“That’s about it, yeah,” said Anathema.

“So - what should we be doing now?”

“Now we need to stop the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“Great,” Newt said, weakly.

Anathema nodded, satisfied. It was coming together. She hoped.

It was the two men, or men-shaped-beings, with the Antichrist she worried about. They had to do the next part on their own. And if that went wrong…

She’d known there was no genuine hope of diverting them from their course to escape… wherever they were planning to escape to. But Agnes said she would try to stop them, so she had to try, no matter how vain the attempt. She had hoped to see more evidence that her words were sinking in before the goth one banished her from his equally goth car.

What they did next was out of her hands, so there was no point in worrying. She turned to her new sidekicks. There was work to do.

---

[1] Specifically, speeding.

[2] Crowley got pretty far, normally, assuming that no-one would dare break into the Bentley. He was mostly correct. Witches, however, were unimpressed by demons.

(Link to next part)

[lailaliquorice]

drops of jupiter in her hair

you can thank the lovely anon who sent in this prompt for this angst fest, which was  “I might never get a chance to say this.”

and we have more beheaded cousins! I love these two so much and really need to write them together more. in my last fic with them I had anne looking after kat but this time we’re flipping the script and multiplying it by a lot because this is a lot, and I’ll apologise in advance to the sixcord who have had this dangled over their heads for a good few days now. love you guys!

there’s no tw on this other than mild blood bc as much as it doesn’t look like it for a while, there is actually a happy ending. i’m not that mean <3

A clear winter’s day after a week of non-stop rain had given Jane the excuse to force a very cabin-fevery Anne and Kat outside for the first time in several days, and they hadn’t just used their freedom to go into central London as per usual. Kat’s complaint that everything was so much more crowded and built up than how they remembered it from their old lives caused Anne to skid to a halt where she was heading towards their usual train line in the underground station, before abruptly changing directions and dragging Kat with her without giving an explanation.

And that was how Kat found herself getting off a train to be faced with a forest so beautiful it was worthy of being pictured on a Christmas card.

“Come on!” yelled Anne, zipping her coat and charging towards the platform exit.

Kat was left just running after her with her laughter leaving clouds of steam in the air, all but shoving her ticket into the barrier to let herself out of the station before they were running down a path through the fields and towards the forest. The pompoms on Anne’s woolly hat bounced just like her usual space buns did as she ran, bringing a smile to Kat’s face even though her cold ears made her wish she’d brought a hat for herself.

They skidded to a standstill once they reached the end of the forest, both panting to get their breath back as the chilled air made Kat’s lungs ache. “It looks bigger up close,” she commented once she could form words again, glancing upwards with a slightly nervous frown at the trees towering over them.

“We won’t go in far, I just thought it’d be nice to get away from the city a bit,” Anne reassured her with a grin that Kat couldn’t help but trust. “It’s not even like we’ve gone that far from home, Jane could be here in half an hour in the car but obvs that isn’t an option for me just yet.”

Kat gave an exaggerated hum as she grinned in an attempt to stifle her laughter; the fifth time failing her driving test had actually been due to driving too slowly in a desperate bid to pass and the fit she’d thrown upon returning home had practically shaken the walls.

Anne glanced up from the floor before Kat had a chance to rearrange her expression. “Shut up Kitkat,” she retorted playfully.

“I didn’t say anything!” Kat squeaked.

“Your face did! Ugh enough of this, come on!”

Their laughter echoed around the silent trees as they stepped foot into the forest at last, Kat trusting Anne to lead the way as she followed on slightly behind. The slight frost the night before meant that the leaves still crunched beneath her feet despite autumn being long gone, making everything feel a little eerie once their voices fell quiet to better take in the scenery.

Kat lasted five minutes before her own footsteps started to sound too much like someone was following them, and after putting on a short burst of speed to catch up with Anne she burst out “Can we keep talking please?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, it was getting a bit spooky,” Anne said with an easy smile that Kat returned a little more nervously. She glanced around as if looking for something, then took off suddenly with a shout of “I’ll race you to that tree stump!”

Despite knowing that Anne would win Kat still ran after her; she loved spending time with her cousin since it let her be the rebellious child that she’d never been able to be back in her old life. That neither of them had really. While Jane mothering her meant that Kat felt more like a child with her too, there was something about Anne dragging her into trouble like an older cousin-turned-sister was meant to that she loved more than she could say.

Anne was grinning triumphantly as she turned to face Kat after hopping up onto the stump on the edge of a steep incline, pulling a superhero pose when Kat took her phone out for a photo. “I can see everywhere from up here,” she said, shielding her eyes from the winter sun with one hand as she looked out over the trees and the lake far below them. “I think that might be the city out there in the distance, lemme-“

She broke off with a scream as the rotted wood beneath her feet gave way and sent her plummeting off the cliff, tumbling head over heels and barely missing several trees before she fell into the lake with an enormous splash.

Kat shrieked Anne’s name as she scrabbled down the cliff after her, being as careful as she could manage while wanting to just sprint after her regardless of her own safety. Anne was heaving herself onto the bank by the time Kat made it down to her, her hat gone and her hair dripping with water, and when she looked up at Kat she could see the scratches on her face from her uncontrollable roll down the hill. “Well that was fucking cold,” she said, any bite in her words ruined by how her teeth were chattering as she shivered.  

She attempted to smile at the sarcasm, but she could hardly manage it with the worry that was making her heart race. “Are you ok?” Kat asked, eyes wide as she took in Anne’s sodden clothes and the smears of blood on her face and hands.

“Yeah, ‘m not hurt. Just damp,” Anne muttered, shrugging as she gave Kat a grim look. It fell into a crestfallen frown as she touched her hair and realised her hat was missing, but one glance at it floating across the lake was enough for her to decide it wasn’t worth wading back in again. “And bloody freezing too,” she added, “we’re going home right now before I die of cold out here.”

Kat nodded firmly, but her voice died in her throat from where she’d been about to agree when she looked behind her and realised she had no idea where they were. She could just about see the stump that Anne had fallen off of if she craned her neck upwards but there was no way they could climb all the way back up the cliff. The plan of just retracing their steps back to the train station was impossible now that they were stuck on a path they didn’t recognise with no idea how to get home.

A quiet “Ah, fuck,” from Anne made Kat whip her head around to see her tipping water out of the headphone port of her phone. “Don’t think this’ll be working anytime soon,” she tried to joke, but the seriousness of the situation was reflected in her solemn expression.

“We can use mine to get us out,” Kat said, though the glimmer of hope she felt was dimmed as soon as she pulled out her phone to see that she’d lost service.

“No signal?” Anne asked, clearly guessing from the defeated look on Kat’s face.

Kat shook her head.

Shivering violently, Anne pushed a strand of sodden hair away from her eyes as she said “Then I guess we’re gonna have to try and walk our way out of here.”

~~~

Anne didn’t know how long they’d been walking for. All Kat’s phone was good for was checking the time but very quickly she decided she didn’t want to know, preferring to just keep putting one foot in front of the other with no indication of time passing then be reminded of how long they’d been lost. Her hair was still dripping water down her face, sluggishly blinking droplets from her eyelashes, and her coat was so wet that she was considering taking it off and seeing if that made her any less cold.

But then she glanced down at the red skin on her hands and decided against it. If she kept her coat on then Kat would be less likely to see, and Anne couldn’t bear the thought of Kat worrying about her on top of everything else.

“I’m sure I haven’t seen that tree before,” Kat said from where she was up in front this time round, pointing to an oddly shaped tree that Anne would have probably been racing to climb on any other day. Her voice grew with confidence by the word as she continued her commentary with “That means we’re not going in circles, that’s a good thing, and even if we come out of the forest on the wrong side we’ll still be out. Do you think I’ll get phone signal back once we’re away from the trees?”

Anne gave a confused hum as she tried to take in Kat’s words. While she could recognise that they should have been making sense, she just couldn’t focus her mind long enough to comprehend what she was saying and what she was supposed to reply.

After several seconds of silence, Kat turned around to face her with a confused look that immediately turned into downright worry. “Annie?” she said in a scared tone.

“Mhm?”

“Your lips have gone blue.”

She lifted a shaking hand to touch her face, vaguely concerned in the back of her mind when she couldn’t feel the contact on either her cheek or her fingertip. “Oh,” Anne breathed out quietly.

They stared blankly at each other for a moment, unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air, before Kat hurried forwards to grab Anne’s freezing hand. “Come on, we have to get home,” she said, the former confidence in her voice still there but marred by a noticeable tremble.

Anne nodded, but when she tried to walk on as Kat tugged at her hand she felt her foot slip and she fell awkwardly to the floor. “’m sorry,” she slurred, trying to push herself back to her feet though not even Kat helping by pulling her arm could get her to stand again.

“Anne? Annie!” Kat cried out, her panicked voice sounding miles away to Anne’s confused mind.

She tried again to stand up but her limbs refused to cooperate, forcing her to admit defeat and settle with just propping herself up with her arm as she stayed sprawled on the floor. “I can’t, ‘m sorry,” Anne repeated as she looked up miserably at Kat, wrapping her other arm around her waist in a feeble attempt to protect what little body heat she still possessed. Her voice quietened to a mumble as she added “I’m so cold.”

Kat stared down at her for a moment with an unreadable expression on her face, before she fumbled to take off her coat. “Put this on instead,” she insisted, ignoring Anne’s protests to unzip her wet coat herself since Anne would never be able to grasp the zip herself with her frozen fingers.

Since her clothes underneath were soaked through too it didn’t make her feel any warmer, but it was nice to have the cold weight of her sodden coat off her shoulders. “Thanks,” she whispered, too drained to even speak properly at that point.

When Kat sat down beside her Anne let her head fall onto Kat’s shoulder, the hand bracing herself against the ground slipping through the leaf litter as her energy was used up. That was until she realised she was starting to fall asleep, and a jolt of pure fear through her chest gave her the boost she needed to sit upright and look Kat in the eye. “I might never get a chance to say this,” she started through gritted teeth, struggling to make her tongue form the right words.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Kat whispered, before she realised like a blow to the head that perhaps Anne wasn’t.

Anne gave her head a tiny shake when Kat interrupted, and the sight of tears rolling down her ghostly pale face was enough for her to fall silent. “I love you,” she said, moving with effort to place an ice-cold hand on Kat’s cheek. “You’re the best little sister I’ve ever had.”

Kat covered Anne’s hand with her own as she started to cry too. “I love you and you’re not dying here,” she insisted, choking out a forceful “No!” when Anne just shrugged. “Come on, you can survive anything. You’re Anne Boleyn, you always make it.”

The ribbon choker around Anne’s neck choosing that exact moment to come undone under its own damp weight and reveal her scar quickly proved that statement wrong.

“S’alright,” Anne breathed out, her head nodding forwards again as her short-lived strength deserted her. A delirious smile flitted across her face as she added “We ‘ad fun.”

“Annie, stop it,” Kat sobbed, grabbing her shoulders as she threatened to fall forwards.

Anne shook her head, just about finding the motivation to look up at her cousin as Kat’s distress pierced through the bubble of lucidity that had prevented her from panicking until then. “Don’t want to die again Kitkat,” she whimpered. She’d stopped shivering by then, which would have been a pleasant feeling if it weren’t for the voice at the back of her head quietly insisting that wasn’t a good thing.

Her head lolled to the side as Kat prodded her neck with two fingers to check her pulse, and from the way her eyes darkened Anne could tell that the result wasn’t good. “Just hold on, alright?” she begged, “I’m gonna get you help, I’m not letting you die here. Not again.”

Those confident words turning into a terrified scream was the last thing Anne heard as a black wave crashed over her vision and she collapsed to the floor.

~~~

Beep.

Beep.

The first thing she became aware of was the fact that she was warm. Blissfully, beautifully warm, compared to the numb coldness that she’d last known. But her contentedness at that lasted barely a few seconds before it made her panic, the question of ‘Am I in Heaven?’ screaming at the forefront of her mind.

She tried to sit up, eyes flying open, but almost immediately there was a firm hand on her chest pushing her back down.

“Careful, Anne. You’re ok, you’re in hospital and we’re all here. Just go easy for a minute.”

Anne focused her eyes at the familiar voice, looking up into the worried smile of Catherine of Aragon. “I’m ok?” she asked in a fragile voice, not quite ready to believe it yet.

“You’re ok,” Aragon repeated, unable to contain a relieved sigh at the sound of Anne’s voice after hours of waiting and worry.

She could have cried with happiness as she fell back into the hospital bed which felt like the most comfortable place on Earth, but instead she just found Aragon’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“You gave us quite the scare though,” said Cathy as she sat down on the bed in Anne’s eyeline, Anna pulling up her chair so she was close enough to grip onto Anne’s hand with a tight smile on her face. “Everyone was so worried and the doctors said it would be touch and go for a while. But your body temperature has returned to normal and there’s no sign of frostbite, so in a couple of hours you’ll be absolutely fine.”

Anne gave a tired but happy groan at the news, fully relaxing back into her pillow and closing her eyes. But then a horrible thought occurred to her as she replayed the last moments before she’d passed out, crying out a horrified “Where’s Kat?!”

The other three just exchanged a glance. The heart machine beeped a panicky rhythm as Anne’s heartrate soared, shouting again “Well? What happened to her, is she ok?”

“Shh, love, or you’ll wake her up!”

At the sound of Jane’s reassuring tone, Anne let Anna help her to sit up and look properly around the hospital room. Jane was sat in an armchair against the wall, and curled up in her lap was the very person Anne had been looking for. Kat was fast asleep and clearly dead to the world if she hadn’t been woken by Anne’s shout, completely wiped out by the events of the day.

“You can thank her that the pair of you made it out of there ok,” Jane said, and Anne watched her through wide eyes as she continued. “After you passed out she left you covered up in the forest and managed to run far enough to get phone signal to call an ambulance. She led the ambulance crew back through the forest to find and rescue you.”

Aragon nodded along to Jane’s account. “Then she called us and we met the pair of you here. She saved your life, Anne.”

She didn’t realise she’d started crying again until she felt tears dripping onto the hand in her lap. Words failed her as she met Jane’s eyes again, looking down at Kat in her lap and just holding out her arms in a voiceless plea.

Thankfully Jane seemed know what she meant, smiling knowingly as she nodded for Anna to carefully take the sleeping Kat from her arms. Anne shifted a little on her bed to make room for Anna to lay her down beside her, just as Kat sleepily blinked open one eye and murmured “Annie?”

“It’s me, Kat. I’m alive,” Anne choked out as she grinned tearfully.

Kat’s eye closed again as tiredness fought to claim her again but she still gave a beaming smile, wrapping her arms around Anne’s torso and resting her head over her heart.

“Go back to sleep, both of you,” Aragon murmured, smoothing Anne’s hair away from her face and wiping her tears with a gentle thumb. “We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

Anne continued to cry silently as she held her close. Exhaustion pulled at her own limbs as she sunk back into the bed, but the lingering fear of how close a call she’d just had kept her arms tight around her cousin and saviour as she gave herself back into sleep.

[summoner-kentauris]

The United Fódlan-Magvel Post-Time Skip Map, Type 1

Previous Post | Next Post 

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FIGURE ONE

Figure One is simple enough, it’s just the important places in Fódlan with names on it.

FIGURE TWO

This is where it gets juicy. We’re going to go through each of these places more or less individually, so this is going to be a long post, be forewarned. Now, all of these are located roughly where they ought to be in relation to one another. Which means, in many cases there isn’t much choice behind the decision. Still, there was at least a little bit!

[Keep Reading Link Below]

North Magvel

The Black Temple

The Black Temple was placed directly on top of the ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery, as detailed in Post One. This is the site of the Holy Mausoleum, and makes a perfect one-to-one translation to the place where the Demon King Fomortiss’ body will be sealed. Likewise, Garreg Mach is located right next to the Sealed Forest, the one place in Fódlan known for, well... sealing and darkness. From the Sealed Forest will come Darkling Woods. This leads us nicely to...

Caer Pelyn

As some of you may yet be tired of hearing from me, Morva makes a wonderful Seteth. Caer Pelyn has to be near the Black Temple anyway, but there’s something terrifically poetically sad about the last Nabateans hovering around whats left of Garreg Mach.

Neleras Peak

Let’s go ahead and say that whatever disaster laid waste to Faerghus and the Alliance, it involved the javelins of light. One was sent to Garreg Mach, but, as we know, it is protected. Instead, Neleras was detonated, and left in a state of lava-y Ailell hell.

This, again, is is the only site whose location will be completely disregarded. I feel like putting it here again so you don’t have to click all around: in the lore, Mt. Neleras is supposed to be within the Darkling Woods. The Darkling Woods is centered around Caer Pelyn and the Black Temple. Now, the way I see it, you could have that forest cover all that land and still reach across the continent across two countries to where Mt. Neleras is supposed to be. You could also not do that very unpleasant thing. Just- just move it. It’s easy. Look, I’ve done it myself right here.

Melkaen Coast

It’s a coast. It’s located on a coast. Nothing special going on here.

Hamill Canyon

We’ve moved this quite a far bit. For one, a large offshoot of mountain range is no longer here in places. For two, remember that chasm Byleth fell into? Yeah, me too.

.

Midwest Magvel

Renais

Renais grew from what was left of Remire Village. Much like on the original map, it is protected on the east by mountains, which also render Caer Pelyn inaccessible from Renais.

Za’ha Woods

Now, if I were to remake this map, I’d stick the Za’ha Woods in the Sealed Forest, because Zahras is too linguistically close for me to not want to line them up.

Borgo Ridge

There is actually a small ridge on the Fódlan map right in the vicinity of where Borgo RIdge needs to go. So that was a no-brainer.

Teraz Plateau

It’s a plateau. Near vaguely altitude-y places. Not much else to say here.

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West Magvel

Frelia

Frelia is located within range of the Brionac Plateau. You have no idea of deeply desperately I wanted to put it ON the Brionac Plateau. A pegasus-culture located on a giant fantasy plateau? SIgn me the fuck up. Anyway, Frelia is SUPPOSED to be on the coast, though. So, on the coast it goes. Why are there so many plateaus on this map anyhow?

Fort Rigwald

This isn’t located near anything important on the Fódlan map. The Magvel country borders are quite different, so it makes sense that new forts would have to be constructed. I’m still sad about it, though.

Border Mulan

On the Fódlan map, this location is listed as the Western Church. We will assume for this map that whatever they built was strong, and exists in some for or another in Magvel time. At any rate, this location is now Border Mulan.

Ide

North of Borgo Ridge. End of statement.

The Tower Of Valini

This is located on Lake Teutates. There already is the ruins of a tower there already so. Why the fuck not?

(Answer: because Lake Teutates sucks and I wish I could wipe it off the map with my bare hands. Indech do not interact.)

Visual aid for those of you who haven’t been forced to look at Lake Teutates for fifty thousand years and also never used the zoom in mode:

Some other interesting information about Valni/Teutates here:

Valni is Russian for waves (волны). Interestingly enough, the singular form волна is the name of a specific submarine launched ballistic missile.

The Tower of Valni is, of course, notable for having those terrifically obnoxious light beam weapons. Three House is, of course, notable for dropping actual fucking missiles on you. Missiles called javelins of light.

I’m bolding all of that because I’m very excited about it.

Port Kiris

Port Kiris is located in Magvel near the coast of the Northern Sea. I made a minor error in this map, and didn’t place Kiris far enough west. Anyway, in this map Kiris is also located at the end of a river that connects it both to Border Mulan and Frelia, which gives this town more trade power. It is a sea port and also, a river port. Hurray!

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The Bay

Serafew

Serafew could be in a range of places. We’ve placed it in the central north of the bay. It is fed by a whole lot of rivers, which would help maintain the city from a logistics point of view. I’m guessing they have a lot of fertile land from the Adlas Plains, as well.

Adlas Plains

Adlas remains at the north mouth of the bay. There is a notable lack of Adlas’s forests in Fódlan’s map; on the other hand, there aren’t really any forests displayed on the map.

Bethroen

Bethroen’s path on the Sacred Stone’s map curves oddly; here, that is replicated and also reinforced by the mountains that back Bethroen. Presumably, here the path is curved because it is a path through the mountains.

.

South Magvel

Renvall

I really wanted to put Renvall on the ruins/same place as Fort Merceus. Renvall is also located, though, at the base of a river. There is one of those slightly to the left of Merceus. Plus, as we’ll get to in a second, Grado has a pretty set location. All of that means Renvall can’t really go on Merceus. It’s honestly the most reasonable choice, given what happens to Merceus in some of the routes.

At any rate, this is generally where Renvall goes. South east of Adlas, north of the Empire. Both Grado and Adrestian.

Taizel

Taizel is probably the one I’m least happy with. That area on both to Fódlan and Magvel map is occupied. However, in Magvel, that spot is just some town, whereas in Fódlan, its the whole capital of the empire. 800 years is a long time, but to completely wipe the importance of such a well established city? I just don’t know.

Either way, the location lines up wonderfully. As an additional note, both Enbarr and Taizel have rivers to the east of them, and this is continued here.

Za’abul Marsh

It’s a marsh. It goes both near a river, and directly between Taizel and Grado. Not much interesting happening here as far as all that goes. Fódlan provides that excellent river mentioned above.

Grado

Ah, the big one of the region. Grado is near the peninsula. It’s not directly below Renval, or Jehanna Hall, but rests somewhat inbetween the two as far as longitude goes. This area on the Fódlan map has something called the Morgaine Ravine. Now, I’ve finally finished all four routes and as far as I can tell, this fucker has come up exactly zero times. Still, it’s a place notable enough to get a name on the map, and more than that, it’s got earth-splitting connotations with that ravine name. Sounds like a perfect place to stick Grado’s capital if you ask me.

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East Magvel

Jehanna Hall

I am so tired. Okay. Three left. So, Jehanna. I don’t know about you, but when I see a gigantic tasty fields-and-plains region, I think, what if desertification? Anyway the point is, Gronder et al. can’t stay delicious and green forever. Especially with everyone and their brother dedicated to fighting on it, or burning it down, or stepping all over it, etc. On this map, this area becomes the desert that Jehanna Hall sits itself right down in.

Now, if only I could figure out who Metis is...

Narube River

Now, strictly speaking, the Narube is located to the east of Jehanna Hall. Why be strict, though, when the Airmid is right there. I mean, its right. there.

Rausten Court

“Hey, wait!” you cry. “Where the hell did Neleras go?”

“Now hang on,” I say. “I feel like I ranted about this. I mean though I can definitely go again, here let me just get my-”

Okay, now Rausten Court

Rausten lies across the River, to the east of Darkling, and occupies its own space away from everything else, really. Of note here is that it’s right behind the Great Bridge. I think that’s pretty neat.

Lagdou Ruins

FINALLY! I‘VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE.

Shambhala. End statement.

Alright, not actually the end of statements. But let me just say: Shambhala got hit by missiles, not destroyed. If people can make it out of there, bits of that place are still intact. And that’s setting aside the fact that, if you look in the zoom in map, that place is a hell of a lot bigger than just the field of combat. Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

AND, lest we forget. The ninth floor of Lagdou is in fact lava-burn-y. Which could jsut mean lava... or the predictable and regularly desribed aftermath of the lances of light that Shambhala gets hit with in canon.

Anyway. All that I’m saying: Shambhala real.

Because of this, Lagdou has experienced a bit of a shift. It is still located next to all the proper geographical feature, it is just that the removal of Neleras means that part of the continent is a bit stretched.

.

Aaannnd that’s the end of this post! Stay tuned for the next post, which is just the nice final fancy map.

[thedarcydichotomy]

@iamdarcylewis

Central park was quiet in the late night, even the sounds of the city muted by the skeletal trees and the covering of snow on the ground. Darcy’s feet pounded against the pavement rhythmically as she jogged, trying to burn off some of her excess energy that had been building all day. Usually she’d have headed out of the city, but with it already past 11 when she headed out, staying close to home just felt like a better idea.

She was focused on the rhythm of her steps, and the music in her ears, and without the fresh scent of other people nearby she was plenty relaxed. She’d blame that for how she failed to react in time as a pair of squirrels darted across the path right over her feet, startling her. Darcy’s foot hooked against her ankle and she went tumbling off the side of the path with a shriek. To make matters worse, she’d been running past an incline, a short drop down to a creek. As soon as her foot hit the snow she went sliding. With another shriek she dropped into the frigid water. 

She dropped through the water, flailing to get back to the surface - a surface much further away than it should have been, given how shallow the creek had looked from the path. Twisting in the water, finding nothing to push back against, she sank deeper still. 

And suddenly Darcy’s head broke through the surface. She gasped for air and struggled to get to her feet, finding the creek bed barely a foot below the top of the water. Still sucking in air she looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened. She clambered out of the water, dripping, and started to shiver in the night air. 

She didn’t notice the lack of snow on the ground. 

“Fucking fuckity fuck,” she grumbled to herself, plucking the now waterlogged earbuds out. She glanced back at the creek before giving a shake of her head. Maybe she was more tired than she’d thought, and with the cold she’d had some weird hallucination when her head had ended up underwater. 

That sounded plausible. Maybe.

Grumbling, she started climbing the short hill back up to the path, not looking forward to what would be a very miserable trudge back to the Tower. Her shoes squished with every step, and she had to be thankful for how hot she ran, else she’d probably be getting hit with hypothermia any second. 

She walked into the Tower’s front lobby, not caring enough to go around to the more private residential entrances. She wanted to get to her apartment and jump in a hot shower as fast as possible. 

The guards at the front desk both got to her feet as she went to walk by, sodden, though thankfully not actively dripping anymore. Her hands fumbled to unzip the pocket on her jacket with her wallet and her keycard to access the private floors.

“Miss-” One of the guards reached out a hand as if to stop her. “Do you need help?”

“Nah, I’m good,” she waved him off, jabbing the button by the elevator. “Just wanna get home.”

“Uh, well, can we call you a cab then?”

“I’m good,” Darcy repeated, holding her keycard up. “Just gotta get upstairs.”

The look on his face changed from concern to suspicion, and a second later a hand landed on her shoulder.

“Can I see that card miss?” He said. It should have been his question but his tone made clear it was really an order. 

“Why?” She sighed, frustrated. Just because there were newbs on who didn’t reocgnise her wasn’t a good enough reason to hold her up, especially given her current, sopping predicement. “Look guys, I get you’re new hires or whatever, but I live here. Have for a while now. And I really just wanna get home.”

“Card, miss.” The guard said, even sterner. “And ID.”

“Uuugh,” Darcy groaned, and with a scowl she shoved her card into his hand and dug out her wallet, flipping it open to show her ID. “Hey!” She protested, when he took the whole wallet from her hand. 

He took her stuff over to the desk and gave her card a swipe to check the details. She didn’t need enhanced senses to hear the noise the computer made, a clear sound of denial. He swiped it again, the sound repeated, and then he took another look at her ID and started typing. 

If he hadn’t taken her wallet, she’d have just said fuck it and gotten in the elevator anyway. JARVIS would take her to her floor, keycard or not.

“You’re gonna need to follow me Miss,” the guard said, after sharing a look with his colleague. “We’ll get you some dry clothes.” He added, like that should be enough to get her cooperation. 

“Come on!” She groaned. “Look, dude, I’m Tony’s assistant. Tony, as in Stark, as in the guy who owns the building? Do not make me call him right now to sort this out.” She didn’t like pulling Tony’s name out, but given how her patience was on it’s last thread it seemed her best bet.

Both the guards faces got even sterner, and the first guy was back, taking her arm again and giving a pull. “This way,” he ordered, giving her a tug. 

“Fine,” Darcy snapped, her head giving a twitch as she shut her eyes, fighting off the tell-tale feel of gold bleeding across her irises. Losing control was not going to help anybody, and Tony wouldn’t be too happy if she threw a couple of his guards across the lobby just because of some kind of system error. “You better get me those dry clothes.”

She was taken back to a security room, a space that looked a lot like a police interrogation room. After a few minutes she was given a blanket, but no clothes, and with another grumble she yanked her shoes and socks off, and peeled her jacket away. Thankfully they hadn’t asked to take her phone, and she pulled it out to send a message to Tony. Except, of course, having been in her pocket it had gotten plenty wet and shut down, and when she tried to restart it the screen just flashed before going dark again.

Perfect.

Someone else, not one of the original guards, came in, her keycard and wallet in his hand. It felt like hours as he asked who she was and why she was there. Her claims to know Tony, to know the other Avengers, was met with scoffs initially, but the more she insisted the less amused he got. Eventually he left, and the first guard reappeared, a bundle of sweats in his hands. “Oh thank gods,” she said, letting the blanket fall to the floor. “You got somewhere I can go change?” 

“You can change in here,” he said before turning on his heel and leaving again, the door giving a pretty solid thunk as it closed and locked. 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” she muttered, eyes casting about the ceiling, knowing there had to be at least one camera in the room. She was gonna make some serious complaints to Tony tomorrow about the whole situation, because this treatment wasn’t ok for anybody, not even if they were trying to break in to the Tower.

She changed quickly, just needing to get out of her cold and damp clothes, then dropped back into the seat and started chewing a nail. More time passed, enough that it had to be getting close to dawn. Darcy leaned over the table, laying her head against her crossed arms, and despite herself she slipped into sleep.

[hans-writes-things]

Fairy Dust Chapter 8

The Pinnacle of Arcane Research, PAR for short, was a massive glass tower with a museum of magical artifacts in it's lower three floors, followed by five floors dedicated to the largest school of arcane magic on the entire continent. The rest of the 150 floor building was dedicated to research. This was the tallest building in L'waren, by a wide margin. It was a city landmark, and a symbol of power and perseverance to any of the city's races that had a history of magic.

After the fade of magic throughout the world, wizards of every race scrambled to keep hold of the power they had accrued through their art. Most wizards, being too arrogant to band together, obviously failed in their endeavors, but a few of the more clever ones formed alliances that grew into companies. One of my ancestors had been a wizard of some renown, and the company he and his had founded was still alive, still run by my sister. The Pinnacle was a joint effort, created and funded by a handful of companies of wizardly origin, built with the end goal in mind of making arcane magic a force to truly be reckoned with again.

I knew why Sam had hesitated to tell me where we were going. It was not my favorite place to visit. My name alone would get us through the door and even allowed us, on one occasion, to make appointment with the high wizard in charge of the school in connection with a previous case, but the look on her face suggested something more this time.

As we entered the building through the main doors, walking through the group of daily visitors coming to view ancient magical artifacts, I couldn't help but to be awestruck by the view. Ancient wizards had commissioned the craftsmen in building their towers and PAR had spared no expense trying to emulate history's greatest wielders of arcane magic. The entry hall was especially opulent, sporting a pair of massive, gnarled and twisting trees, made from stone, and decorated with thousands upon thousands of precious and semiprecious crystals and stones to serve as foliage. Threads of the purest gold wove through the whole construction and the boughs of the trees met over the entryway to the museum to form an arch. It wasn't the first time I looked at these, and yet they seemed even more marvellous, more magical, than the last, and they were. I knew that they would be even more amazing still the next time I would look at them. It was part of the school of the Pinnacle. The students of arcane magic would prove their dedication to their studies by spending one whole week of every school year, exhausting every ounce of strength in their bodies, by pouring their magic into the trees, helping to shape them, maintain them, even grow them. On a good year, the nearly twenty thousand students combined, would grow them a whole inch between them. On a bad year, the trees would wither a little, even lose some their foliage. Of course the result of that ritual was mainly used as a measuring stick for the top floors of the tower, the high wizards, and their decisions as to how to market their work. Still, the trees were undeniably beautiful, and undeniably magical, and they tugged at my sense of awe and wonder, no matter what else I knew of them.

The air in the entryway held a soft and constant birdsong, and within the boughs of the great trees I could see the subtle flit of movement. This year had been a good year then, a bumper crop of ready and eager young people, hungry to be part of the magic that the tower offered. Sam scoffed softly at the display and offered me an awkward smirk. "Thinking of running away and joining the mages?" She elbowed me in the thigh as she spoke. She was trying to lighten the mood, and I felt my mind starting to put a couple of things together, though I hadn't quite figured out what was off just yet. "Yeah Sam," I replied, breaking eye contact, "I've always wanted to become a gardener, don't you know?"

She walked over to the right towards the desk, guards, and elevators that lead to the upper floors of the building. I followed a few steps behind, feeling as though I was decidedly not going to enjoy this visit one bit, though I still hadn't quite figured out why, beside the usual. Behind the desk sat an elven woman with dark hair and dark skin. She seemed older than any other elf I'd ever met before. Her skin seemed thin and wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her eyes were bright and sharp though, a stark contrast with the rest of her features. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun. To either side of the desk, and behind her down the hall to the elevators, stood several half orc guards.  The ceiling was not as high here as it was over the entrance to the museum section, and the muted colours of the desk, the woman's suit, and the guard uniforms, helped to make the severity of this other entrance less conspicuous when compared to the bright and welcoming gateway to magic offered between the two magical trees.

"Good morning." Sam started but was cut off before she could continue. "Detectives Xyrocelzam Daxldizk and John Winters, what can I do for you?" "We request an audience with the archmage." Sam said without hesitation. I bit my tongue and froze in place a step behind Sam. The archmage? She hadn't explained exactly what we were here for, but, the archmage? "Your errand?" The elven woman asked, and though she reacted quickly she had hesitated, just a hair. "Interplanary travel." Sam said, again, as though the phrase was normal and expected. This time the elven woman hesitated notably enough to draw a concerned glance even from one of the guards. "I beg your pardon?" "We need to speak with whoever is in charge about how something extra planar could even get here" Sam said, this time her voice a little firmer. "It can't" the elven woman started, but this time Sam cut her off, "and we would very much like to know who around here has been playing with necromancy." This time I could see one of the guards move his hand reflexively down to his weapon. "Or we could just discuss how the arcane is falling short" Sam offered and gestured in my direction "the divine are already preforming miracles again." And there it was. That's why she had been so apologetic and awkward. I sighed and slowly, with my hands held open in a gesture of surrender, reached up and removed my new sunglasses. The elven woman gasped, bringing one of her hands up to her mouth, and shot up from her seat. "My gods" she whispered. "I'll make some calls, please wait here."

I turned and sat at one of the benches to the side, keeping my eyes low to the ground. The room was too bright, not just in the amount of light, but the sheer intensity of colour. Even the shapes and angles of things seemed sharper than they should be and the room felt as though it might start spinning at any moment. "I'm sorry" Sam whispered, standing next to me, "but we need answers." I nodded, which immediately reminded me how close I was to nausea. "Count the tiles." Sam offered, and I looked down at the floor. What I had previously assumed was a smooth surface had actually been made from countless little tiles of odd shapes and sizes, all of them nearly the same colour. Nearly. I started counting and trying to get a feel for them, for what they were, for the pattern in what looked more like chaos. Slowly I found myself realizing the pattern they formed was reminiscent of a forest floor. Pebbles, single straws of grass, a carpet of old mulch and leaves, dirt. The room settled and the pain became manageable and I couldn't help but to lift my eyes and glance in the direction of the magical trees. They glowed with magic, each tree echoed a thousand times in faint reflections through the air itself. Each stone and crystal leaf throwing the image through the room. I was in an entire forest of gentle light and unearthly beauty and all I could say was "what?" "Yeah, I thought you'd like that." Sam whispered.

"The archmage will see you now." The elven woman called over. I closed my eyes, and pocketed by sunglasses before standing up. "Please follow me." The old elven woman led us past the elevators to the far wall of the hall, then placed her hand on the wall, chanted a gentle spell, and revealed a small keyhole. She entered a key she held on a bracelet and to the side of her the wall slid open to reveal a separate elevator with only two buttons. One for up, and one for down. To my surprise, we went down.

"My name" the elven woman spoke "is Far'emin Chuft. I am one of the three members of the current council of archmage in the Pinnacle of Arcane Research." "I know." said Sam. "I didn't." I muttered, feeling a little more myself, and thus a little more frustrated at the turn of things. "We aren't fond of a lot of people knowing, Detective Winters." The elven woman continued. "Wizardry is all about knowledge, about information, and protecting personal information is how we keep ourselves safe. Magic is not what it was in my mother's age, after all."

The elevator slid to a halt and opened. I squinted instinctively but quickly relaxed again. The hallway was softly lit and coloured. The hallway had simple wooden floors and walls, well worn by age, but clearly well cared for. The ceiling had softly glowing lights though I couldn't see an electrical source for them. On the other end of the hall were wooden double doors, open a slight crack, and from beyond them came a pair of voices in hushed conversation. Far'emin kept in the lead and threw the doors wide as she entered. The room was large and circular with portraits along the outer wall, faces of what I presumed were noteworthy wizards, perhaps previous archmages. The center of the room had a circular table with a large crystal set in it's center, emanating a soft glow that somehow managed to bathe the entire room in a gentle and comfortable light, even to my sensitive new eyes. Around the central table were thirteen plush chairs, only two of which were occupied.

As Far'emin entered the room she ran her hands over her face and back over her hair, letting out a soft sigh of releif, and when I glanced her way her hair had changed colour, from a deep and rich brown to a stark white, and the skin of her face and hands had darkened still, as though it had absorbed the colour from her hair, darkening to nearly coal black. I whispered "Drow" before I could catch the though in my mind, and Far'emin chuckled slightly. "How very astute." "Let me introduce my colleagues," she then said "the very honorable mister Joseph Darian Swit," she gestured towards a stout human man with almost dwarfish features. Thick black beard and a pair of round glasses completed the look. He looked up and nodded at her mention of his name. "and the lady Amana Silverlight." The high elven woman stood up from the circular table and gave a slight bow. My mind ran a few pointless circles within my head, reminding me of what little was known of the drow even before the fade, and the reputation they still had to this day, and watched as Far'emin walked over to the high elven woman and gave her a hug and a gentle kiss and just gave up on thinking I knew anything.

Sam, which until this moment had seemed unfazed by the entire encounter, stood frozen by the door with wide eyes, watching Far'emin's every move as though she expected her to simply explode, taking the room and everything in it with her. "Sam?" I asked softly. "She's a fucking dark elf!" Came a half whispered response. "Yes, yes I am." Far'emin responded with a sigh. "I know what reputation my people have, but there's much you do not know. The fade did not just affect the surface." "Come now!" Joseph suddenly spoke, his voice a deep booming one that jostled us to move, "Take a seat and let us see those eyes. Please?" Sam seemed to remember why we were here and took a steadying breath. "Alright then. Come on tall boy."

__________________

What you get here, on Tumblr, is my first draft of each chapter, as it happens to exist.  I’m considering making a patreon for working on this thing.  In the meanwhile, keep me in writing fuel via;  https://ko-fi.com/miniar

[landmarkcondo36-blog]

Buying a Luxury Condo or House - What to Consider

Alternatively, there are also plenty of builders ready to venture into a luxury job as they are in high demand and there are a lot of investors to choose from. Anyone trying to find luxury condos will be accommodated in one way or another. the landmark condo

Naturally , luxury is a loose expression as it means different things to several buyers. The following are some things to take into account when searching for luxury condos, which can be "must haves" is truly because of the buyer.

Location, location, place!

Living in a convenient location certainly important aspect of choosing luxury apartments for living in, renting or perhaps resale. A centrally-located constructing is preferred by many so they can easily access perform, recreation, airports, shopping, eating places and more. However , some favor living away from the eventfulness and have different ideas involving what luxury is as significantly as location for accommodations.

For most, ambiance as well as ease play a role in where they will consider a luxury location.

Gorgeous Views

Peek out the window connected with condos that aren't positioned well and see things like rebuffs, a freeway or design. Luxury condos feature excellent views of nature to add parks, trees and streams. They can also show off crucial landmarks such as city landscapes, ballparks or monuments and the like.

Desire to live in as well as local rental and resale potential depend upon the views, so before getting it's important to take a gander along with consider how not only the customer will enjoy it but virtually any future buyers. All the stunning amenities, fixtures and coatings within won't matter in the event the view is marred.

Modern day Amenities

Those interested in acquiring luxury condos deserve the when it comes to amenities, and they should not settle. Luxury condos must be designed with attention to detail and further comfort. Cutting edge facilities in addition to attractive interiors are common among the best residential buildings. One should assume things like a state-of-the-art health club, landscaped gardens, fully-equipped living rooms, Wi-Fi, primo parking, 24-hour security and other stylish enhancements.

Top-Of-The-Line Only

When buying luxury condos, make sure home was constructed with the best quality supplies and by builders who are recognized for stellar work. Is actually perfectly acceptable to ask regarding the sturdiness of the building so far as framing materials, fire-resistance as well as other related information. Feeling risk-free and knowing this is a long lasting investment is important.

Neighbors

A part of luxury living is that you can find few who enjoy it, this implies a smaller amount of neighbors within the making. Any condos that are overpopulated will lack in genuine luxuriousness. Privacy and originality should come standard since luxury living usually means extra space, and if the building is jam-packed full of residents' space will probably be compromised.

Further, the type of friend is important to let residents sense they and their families secure and secure. Don't take the owner of the building's phrase for it, do some investigating to see if it is true.

Safety and Security

High-class homes are about a very good combination of comfort and security. Occupants should feel safe constantly from criminal activity. They will shouldn't feel the need to add what you should make them feel more secure, almost everything should be included - just like electronic monitoring and security.

The Landmark by ZACD, MCC Land and SSLE. Hotline 61001116. Get Discounts, Direct Developer Price, Brochure, Floor Plan, Price List etc. Former Landmark Tower.

References Apartment

[aileruaa]

Zeta flash: Dancing?

I actually loved writing this!!! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

*

Joan had always said Bart had two left feet.

If good dancing was in the Flash family genetics, he got stuck with the recessive genes. Before he was taken away from his parents during the Reach apocalypse, he remembered them slow-dancing in the kitchen to somber love songs from the 80s, only illuminated by the dim, broken-down kitchen lights. And before Joan became sick, she and Jay would put on a vinyl record from time to time and dance in the living room to upbeat swing tunes from the 30s.

Bart always tried, he really did. But every time Joan took a step forward, he’d take two steps back, and he’d end up tripping over his own feet and messing up the rhythm, causing her and Jay to laugh at his expense- all in good nature, of course. To his credit, no one ever taught him how to formally dance; they just assumed he’d pick it up quickly. The only thing that was quick was his realization of his temperament, which wasn’t really suited for learning dance moves; he’d get frustrated and divert his attention elsewhere.

Naturally, Bart had his reservations about dancing. So when he received a flyer for the Winter Ball at school, Bart all but shoved the paper into the depths of his backpack, determined to forget about it until it passed.

*

“Hey, I thought I’d be the first one here.” Bart chirped as he beamed in through the Zeta tube. The Hollywood tower was empty except for Eduardo, who was humming a tuneless song in the kitchen. The Team had agreed to meet up in the tower for a movie night later that evening, but most of them had other things to take care of before getting to the tower.

“Well, you thought wrong. What’s going on?” Ed greeted Bart with a smile, chopping away at a few carrots. He was stuck on dinner duty that night, so he came early to prep the ingredients for his favorite Argentinian dish.

“Nada, amigo. You need any help in the kitchen, though?” Bart asked, distractedly rummaging through his bag to find his homework.

“I don’t think you could help if you wanted to.” Ed replied, tossing the carrots into a giant metal pot. “I still remember the time you burned water ‘cause you left it on the stove for too long.”

“Your loss.” Bart shrugged. He fished a piece of paper out of his backpack, hoping it was his history homework- but it was just the flyer he had buried deep in his backpack earlier. Bart balled up the paper as tight as he could and aimed it at the trashcan. He took a flashy shot but missed, and the crumpled flyer fell at Ed’s feet.

Ed put down his knife to pick up the flyer. He uncrumpled it and examined the colorful invitation to the school dance.

“’You are cordially invited to the annual Central City High School Winter Ball, this Saturday at 8:00 PM.’ You sure you wanna throw this out, hermano?” Ed asked, holding up the piece of paper.

“Eh, just toss it. I don’t need it.” Bart waved his hand carelessly.

“You’re not going?”

“Nah. It’s not my thing.” Bart flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels available.

“Really?” Ed prodded, eyebrow cocked. “I’d think dances are totally your thing. Free food, free drinks, lots of friends.”

Bart turned to face Ed. “Well, yeah. But it’s a dance.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“A formal dance.”

“And?”

“I can’t dance.” Bart admitted. “I’m terrible at it.”

“That’s it?” Ed laughed, drying his hands on a small towel. “Then maybe I can help. I used to take dance lessons back in Argentina.”

“You? You took dance lessons?” Bart asked, incredulous. Ed didn’t really strike him as a dancer.

“Why so surprised? My grandpa made me take lessons as a kid before I came to America, said it’d build character. Besides, Argentinians love dancing, especially the tango.” Ed put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. “So much that we have our own version of it.”

“Dude, I can barely do the macarena. I’d literally fall on my face if I had to do the tango.” Bart shuddered, recalling watching Dancing With the Stars with Joan. The swift leg movements and intimate postures of the tango was too much for Bart, who had zero sense of rhythm and even less patience to learn the moves.

“Well, it takes two to tango, so I don’t think we can start with that even if we wanted to.” Ed chuckled. “I’ll teach you a basic four-step routine that most dances are built on.”

Bart shook his head. “No, it’s okay. Seriously. I’m not gonna go, anyway.”

“Either way, dancing’s a good life skill to have. You never know when the need to dance will arise. It could be a life-or-death situation.” Ed insisted.

“Life-or-death? When will I ever need to dance to save my life?”

“You act like you haven’t been through crazier situations.”

“Good point.”

Ed crossed the room to plant himself in front of Bart so the speedster couldn’t just walk away. At this distance, Bart noticed how much taller Ed was; he barely reached Ed’s nose when he stood up straight.

“It’ll be fun. We gotta wait for the carbonada to boil, anyway.” Ed smiled. Bart sighed. He couldn’t say no to that smile.

“Fine. You win.” He caved.

“Alright, so let’s talk basics.” Ed took Bart’s hands in his. Bart’s heart all but stopped- he knew it was coming but it didn’t make his feelings flutter any less. “In formal dances, there’s usually a guy and a girl, and the guy generally leads. But since we’re both guys, I’ll take the leading role, and I’ll teach you the following role afterwards.” 

“Uh-huh,” Bart choked out. Ed didn’t seem to notice Bart’s flustered response as he guided Bart’s left hand to his shoulder, and placed his own hand gently on Bart’s side. He’d gotten this far with Joan a few times before giving up, so he knew at least this much. But dancing with married 90-year-old Joan was different from dancing with someone he was developing feelings for.

“Alright, now I’ll show you the box step. I’m gonna take a step forward with my left foot. You step back with your right.” Ed instructed, sliding his left foot towards Bart. If stammering with one’s feet was possible, Bart was doing it.

“No, just one step. You just took, like, three steps back.”

Bart took a step back as he was told, looking down at their feet to make sure he was doing it properly. Easy enough for now.

“Good. Now I’m gonna slide my right foot forward so that it’s parallel to my left.” Ed said, going through the motions as he spoke. Bart followed suit. “You basically just have to mirror what I’m doing.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, now I’m gonna take a step back with my right foot, so you step forward with yours. And then I’m gonna bring my left foot back. No, step forward with your left, not your right. And don’t slouch.”

“Oops, my bad.”

Ed tightened his grip ever so slightly on Bart’s side to correct Bart’s posture and steps; whether it was conscious or not, Bart would never know.

“And now we just do those steps, over and over on repeat.” They repeated the simple steps a few more times before Bart stopped tripping over his own feet and getting his feet positions all messed up. A few minutes later, the two were dancing in perfect sync in the living room of the tower, dimly lit by the kitchen’s lighting.

“Hey, you’re doing it!” Ed gave Bart’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m really doing it! This is so crash.” Bart exclaimed, elated by the quick results.

“See? Not so hard, is it?” Ed grinned.

“Yeah. Is there anything Bart Allen can’t do?” Bart joked, still not taking his eyes off the floor.

“Or maybe you just have a good teacher.“ Ed rolled his eyes. “When you get better, you can add a few flairs that’ll change your movements slightly, depending on the dance. But honestly, this is all you need for a school dance.”

“Yup. No fancy steps needed. This is fine.”

“Speaking of which, who are you gonna ask to the Winter Ball?” Ed asked, now that Bart was getting the hang of it.

“Huh?” Bart felt his ears get red- he hadn’t expected Ed to ask him the million dollar question.

“I mean, it’s a dance, so you definitely need to bring a date.” Ed pointed out. Bart froze, realizing that Ed was right- he’d have to bring a date to the dance if he did go. Asking someone wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Ed, the one guy he remotely had an interest in asking to the dance, went to a completely different school across the country and had to work on weekend nights at the Youth Center. But he couldn’t unpack all that- not right then.

“I, uh,” Bart stammered, refusing to look Ed in the eyes. “I-I don’t really, um-“

“Wait, slow down, you’re going too-“

Bart had unconsciously speeded up the pace, throwing the entire momentum off. Ed tried his best to match Bart’s tempo, but his foot ended up snagging on Bart’s ankles. The harmony they established broke down in a matter of seconds, and two tripped over one another to result in Ed landing on top of Bart on the floor.

“-fast.” Ed managed to cushion Bart’s head with his hand and balance himself with his other arm just in time before he made contact with the floor. Bart’s eyes widened and he felt the blood rush to his head, as Ed loomed over him. He was so close that Bart could smell his fading cologne.

“You okay?” Ed asked, voice soft.

Bart snapped out of it.

“Y-yeah. Totally crash. You know what? On second thought, I’ll go to the dance. Yeah. Maybe I can just go to the dance and stuff my face.” Bart blurted, detaching himself from Ed, who looked confused. “I’m gonna go and, uh, do that now.”

He sped out of the living room and back into the Zeta tube, alerting the computer to Zeta him back to Central City so he could cool his head.

“But your dance is on Saturday! And what about movie night with the Team?” Ed called. The room was already empty by the time he finished his sentence, leaving Ed alone with an overflowing pot of carbonada and a slew of mixed feelings growing in his chest.