#they died of an illness and the now new Wick was allowed to take their place

[mothcollective]

Local towns cryptid spotted

[catesartworks]

Isekai Maid Asks Pt.3

More asks under the read more! Very long, I go into depth about some of the titles from the maid slapping masterlist

Content Warning, I talk about slavery, human trafficking, stalking and physical abuse within the context of the story

Made some edits on 7/5/2023! :D

Thank you so much! :D

I did like “No More Turning a Blind Eye” at first until the gentrification storyline where the main couple decide to kick out all the people living in poverty so they could build an art center and destroy their homes. Apparently I was supposed to root for them? It was so disturbing I had to stop reading it and I couldn’t enjoy it anymore. Now it serves as a reminder of just how low nobility can sink to get what they want.

For the next one, I wouldn’t say I hate “I am the Real One,” I still love a lot of things about it but after a certain point it kind of became slow so I had to take a break from it. I also wasn’t a fan of how they handled Cosette’s maid. She’s basically Kira without the money, and I think she would’ve been a good character if they gave her a chance. She did it all for her younger brother, who was ill, and was going to risk hell and high water to make sure he was provided for.

Thank you so much! I have a few:

Beware the Villainess  (Great to start after watching Bakarina)

The Monstrous Duke’s Adopted Daughter

The Villainess’ Stationary Shop (So fun!)

Not Sew Wicked Stepmom (So Cute)

Master Villainess the Invincible (Martial Arts Villainess, we need more of this!)

Thank you!

As for Erica, she lived in a part of Limpette was being colonized by the invading nation of Teffrah. They set up segregated neighborhoods with only Teffrah nobles, which is where she grew up. The nobles in Teffrah like to come to Limpette for it’s environmental beauty, but discriminate against the population that lives there.

Erica was set up with Mr. Katopodis because his family had a summer home there and they wanted him to get remarried so he could have a male heir. 

1) Yes, Nasir regretted killing Zoe. He was definitely gro//omed by the female lead, Belliana and was taught that she “saved him” by buying him and turning him into a slave. He thought that because she did favors for him and allowed him some level of freedom that he was better than other slaves and that Zoe didn’t appreciate the female lead’s supposed generosity. He ends up killing Zoe by accident, but he convinces himself that it was for the best.

It wasn’t until he wanted to get married to a woman he met that the Belliana showed her true colors and forbid him. She was one of those people who thought, “if I went back time and there was slavery, I would buy them and treat them nice!” But at the end of the day she was just another slave owner.

Belliana refused to let him get married because she wanted to avoid her own death flag, and she even had the woman he wanted to marry sent away to die. In a rage, he kills Belliana.

2) Bridgette tends to internalize the justifications that the stories make for female leads to abuse their workers. It’s true that stealing is wrong in general, but she was basically a slave to the female lead and was never compensated. Belliana stole the fruits of her labor from her.

Bridgette has done wrong in the past, but cannot always remember. Her memory isn’t perfect, but she has done things like murdering a noblewoman, delivering poison, hitting other maids.

3) Clara’s ending had her being given a sum of money by Phoebe after Phoebe dies. She leaves the manor and lives happily.

Clara as a character wasn’t liked from the beginning due to audiences being distrustful of any female character other than the protagonist. Comment sections were waiting for Phoebe to stand up to Clara, who they thought was too greedy for a maid because she was beloved by people in the story.

Audiences hated it so much that they harassed the author into making a new version of the story to cash in on the isekai craze. The author noticed that a crack ship formed between Prince Dimitri and Phoebe, it shot up in popularity and audiences wanted them to be together.

 That is how “Flowers Thrive in Autumn” became a new novel starring the reincarnator Phoebe called “The Wicked Woman Delivers”. In this version of the story, Clara is secretly revealed to be a “white lotus” character who frames the newly reincarnated Phoebe and must “be taught her place” as a maid. It sold very well, but the author hated it and she took a break from writing because of all the stress it caused her.

4) Reincarnators, when discovered are quietly approached by the military and asked if they have information on weapon development. The Teffrah military is especially interested in trying to build airplanes and colonizing surrounding countries.

Reincarnators, particularly ones in nobility are allowed to roam around as long as they contribute to society and bolster Teffrah’s “superior” image.

The abundance of reincarnators also play a huge role in the general support the nobility has for eugenics and maintaining the class system, because they want the general population to believe that only nobles can create generation defining art, music, and technological advancements. It also fuels anti immigrant sentiment.

A lot of reincarnators are from the commoner class in the future, but many usually get caught up in the glamor of being a noble and allow inequality to continue because the class system personally benefits them, or they’re overwhelmed and prefer not to get involved in trying to tackle societies problems.

The type of reincarnators that come into the world are extremely specific, and not to get into spoiler territory, but there is a reason why so many office workers get isekai’d into Teffrah.

5) I’m not sure I would want to do that trope. It’s been used a lot and I don’t think I can do anything new with it that hasn’t already been done.

Thank you! As a fellow autistic person, I’m happy you identify with Marina! 😊

Thank you very much for reading Isekai Maid! I really appreciate it. ^ ___ ^

1) I’m not entirely sure I can add more to the list, but I’ll try and update it. I know there’s more to the list than what I’ve listed, but the maid slapping trope isn’t a pleasant one for me to look at so it might take me a while.

Reading those kinds of scenes gives me flashbacks to when I worked in fast food service, and seeing the comment sections basically cheer for the kinds of people who made my coworker’s lives miserable,or made them cry and over the pettiest things like food not being hot enough is kind of exhausting.

As for Villainess Reverses the Hourglass, I have to say I do enjoy the manwha a lot since it’s my gateway to Otome Isekkai, but it has some ISSUES, especially with it’s discussion of politics. Some of my issues goes into spoiler territory, and I feel like some twists end up undermining the themes of the overall story. I love a good revenge story, though, and it was one of the earlier stories I read in Otome Isekai. So yeah, not everyone’s cup of tea and I get that.

2) For “Author of My Own Destiny”, yes, it’s pretty gross to give her dirty mop water. Yuck! But this maid character doesn’t act like a person, she is an obstacle to be hit and smacked by the noble MC Fiona as a cheap power move with little to no true consequences.

Hitting maids (even terrible ones) as a trope has never been about justice. It’s always been about reinforcing class dynamics and suppression of the lower classes by portraying commoners as greedy and abusive to prop up noble protagonists. It implies that if nobles don’t “correct” commoners, they will get “out of control.”

Protagonists, who when confronted with nobles who do identical things, let them off the hook/delay accountability or attempt to be cordial with them (such as in the case of Fiona).

Let’s not even get started on male leads in romance fantasy/Otome Isekai, who do all sorts of crimes like stalking, harassment and other forms of abuse and are romanticized for it because they are nobles.

These stories are power fantasies, ones where readers who might have been abused by people in power themselves and want justice vicariously through fiction. But between a noble and a commoner, there are no stakes if the MC is a noble. The noble has everything at their fingertips to win.

And what is odd about the whole sequence in “Author of My Own Destiny” is that Fiona (the MC) does the following:

She slaps the maid twice

Splashes her with the mop water

Calls her lowly due to her class, mocking her for being a commoner

Threatens to cut out her tongue

Threatens her with magic

Internally is disgusted that a commoner/maid would look a noble in the eyes.

In the next chapter, Fiona directly passes by the stepmother, Countess Green, the cause of all of this. Her stepmother who verbally abuses her, makes her life miserable and has most likely been encouraging the evil maid’s behavior. The ultimate showdown, right?

Since what happened to Fiona was such a horrible experience, you’d expect her to unfold the same amount of abuse tenfold on the stepmother. Right?

But she doesn’t. Fiona, who the chapter before was slapping a maid and making threats to cut out the maid’s tongue, suddenly goes “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” 😔

She even says “I wish I could slap her (Countess Green)” UM what?? Fiona, girl you were slap happy last chapter, what’s stopping you? SLAP that noble!

Literally a chapter before she was hitting a maid for all of the abuse she suffered, but now when she has the ability to stand up to the person who made all of this happen in the first place, NOW she backs out?

From a meta point of view, Fiona lets the noble slide, but gets violent with the commoner. There is no true accountability if one party is condemned due to status, but the other gets away scot free because they’re a noble. Who’s power fantasy is this? Who does it serve?

The only reason is because she knows she would get struck back, and it would cause a problem she can’t prepare for. This isn’t the power fantasy I want. Accommodating to the nobles who do harm to you, but smacking any commoner who crosses you. That isn’t power, I don’t know what that is, but it’s not justice.

Edit (07/5/2023):

SPOILERS for chapter 24:

The stepmother only gets smacked once she loses her status. Not only does Fiona refuse to confront her stepmother on the abuse she instigated through he maid, but she is also allowed to get away for presumably weeks after in incident where Fiona slapped her maid around.

Another interesting note is that Fiona is much more violent with the commoner maid than her noble stepmother. Even when she does finally slap the stepmother, it’s only one and done. She doesn’t manhandle her like the maid.

And that was only when she was sure there would be no consequences for her actions and her stepmother lost her status. When it comes to nobility, only when she is sure their wealth would be stripped does she begin even thinking about striking them. 

End edit

It’s interesting that the justifications of hitting maids is often brought up, because every comic I have on the list justifies the maid abuse by basically saying “those dumb lowly maids were being uppity to me, a noble! >:(”

I am the Real One: A maid badmouthed Keira’s lineage in “I am the Real One” SMACK!

The Lady Needs a Break: Rubia wanted breakfast and was given a lower quality than usual food - SMACK!

Duchess’ 50 Tea Recipes: The maids didn’t tidy up Chloe’s room and help her get dressed, they were also, like, totally mean girls to her even though she is the lady of the house and could easily fire them -- SMACK! Slap the head maid and threaten her coworkers!

Solitary Lady: The maid gives Hillis cold water, is slightly annoying? Hillis throw water on her and threatens to chop her hands off (this is actually what I based Lady Deliliah’s remarks on)

These stories all have the same excuses. All of their maid abuse was justified in some way by the story by making them all stereotypically evil. It’s easier to overlook the social implications of a noble hitting a maid if the maid totally deserves it because she secretly kicks puppies and steals food from orphans?

That’s why I tend to look at the meta implications of the trope more than the in- universe explanations because these maids dress like working class women, many come from lower status,  so the logic would be that they would be trying to supporting their families and want to just do their jobs. But these evil maid characters don’t act like they have anyone who depends on them to keep their job.

The maids are essentially a stand in for what are essentially high school/office level “mean girls.” Why not fire them if they’re so bad at their jobs and harass people? You can’t fire “mean girls,” you work with you HAVE to interact with them at some point. You can, however, fire a maid because being a maid is a job and she works for you.

Even a noble household, no matter what they would think of the MC, would be in big trouble if they let commoners mistreat their family member and drag their name through the mud. It could easily be a gateway to disrespecting them and their own power/influence.These stories pretend that maids have so much power and the nobility who employ them have very little to stop them.

But at the same time, noble MC’s can hit, smack, and thrash their maids with no consequences whatsoever, but can’t fire them? The power dynamics are completely dishonest.

And what pains me is that people in service positions CAN be dicks, or abusive. But at the same time, many don’t last long and there is a reason. If someone is spreading rumors, talking shit about their employer’s kids, not doing work, etc then ideally they’re outta there because work needs to get done. But even so, toxic workplaces exist everywhere and people slip through. People who are horrible do end up with those who are vulnerable. And when this happens, accountability is essential and justice is needed. 

If majority of these stories even touched on this subject knowing this, and how someone like these maid characters even made it in such a workplace while being uncooperative and unhelpful, then it would be really fascinating and open up questions on how to better improve workplaces. You could talk about how who gets promoted, favoritism, discrimination, etc.

But most on my maid slapping masterlist don’t. To these stories, a maid’s status is the worst thing about them if they aren’t submissive. 

This evil maid trope also undermines the impact of abuse main characters have suffered too, because it makes a big point on how low the status of the maid is committing the abuse, instead of the abuse itself being detestable and worthy of accountability.

And that honestly really sucks. It’s not right, that isn’t the author’s intention, and I feel like that shouldn’t be what I take away from this story.

[yunaboveclouds]

Diluc, Kaeya and Wanderer - Cinderella

King Krepus Ragnivindr has decided it was about time his son was to wed. He decides the most efficient way to do this is to host a masquerade ball. He invited every eligible unmarried person in the kingdom of Mondstadt in hopes of finding his son a spouse. Diluc can only pray to Barbatos that he may find someone worthy of love.

Meanwhile, a young person is at home. They are cleaning the house from top to bottom for their stepmother and stepsisters. The three ladies are beautiful but are vain and cruel at heart. Y/n's father died from an illness years ago, so they are stuck with a wicked family. There was a knock on the door, Y/n opened it and was surprised to see the King's advisor, Jean.

"Prince Diluc Ragnvindr has invited you to an exclusive masquerade ball-," Y/n couldn't hear the rest of her words, their stepsisters and stepmother squealed in excitement. All they had to hear was the prince and they were ready to leave.

Of course, when the step sisters heard the news they were as excited as Y/n. Their stepmother scoffed at the idea of Y/n going and she decided to make a deal with them, "Y/n, if you can scrub and dust this house by the end of the night and find an outfit and mask suitable enough for the ball, you may go.”

Y/n's step sisters cackled at the very idea of Y/n being able to get all this done. Despite their merciless teasing, Y/n was able to do as their stepmother told them. Of course, their stepmother still wouldn't allow them to attend the ball. She had locked Y/n up in their bedroom while she and her daughters left. 

And so, Y/n sat at the window, staring at the stars for the rest of the night... that would have been the case if this blue-haired man hadn't been walking around. He had just noticed this individual looking up at the sky. And so he began talking to them, "Excuse me. Are you not attending the ball tonight?"

Y/n's head looked down at this man, thinking how strange it was he was wearing an eyepatch, "No, I wasn't allowed to. I'm locked in my room, if I wanted to go I wouldn't be able to."

"What if I got you out and helped you get to the ball?"

Although this piqued their interest, they rolled their eyes, "I've seen you before, but I don't even know who you are. Why would you help me? We're strangers."

The blue-eyed man smirked, thinking to himself before speaking, "I am Venti, Prince Diluc's bard for the night."

"Why would you be wandering around Mondstadt?"

"I was just on my way to the ball. Now would you like me to assist you?" The man smirked, smoothly lying. Y/n was a bit suspicious that a well-dressed man was a bard but agreed, they jumped from the window into the man's arms, "Wonderful. Get dressed and we shall go."

"I haven't got an outfit, I'm afraid it was ripped to shreds,"

"Well, you can't go to a masquerade ball without a mask and an outfit! Don't worry. I know the perfect place," He gently grabbed Y/n's hand and led them into a deep part of the forest until the pair reached a well. 

"It's a well," Y/n said unenthusiastically. 

"Ah ah~ It's no ordinary well. This is the well of a magical fairy. All you have to do to summon her is wish for something. So. Wish for an outfit to the ball, and perhaps a carriage to get there while we're at it,"

Y/n just side-eyed him while silently wishing in front of the well, hoping this works and he isn't just messing with them. They opened one eye to see nothing had changed about the well, "Venti, you lied!"

"Are you sure about that?" "Venti" smirked before making them look back at the well to a very angry fairy. This fairy certainly wasn't one you'd imagine from a fairy tale. He was a short, furious, hat-wearing man.

"Who summoned me this time? I swear I'll never forgive that stupid fairy for cursing me and making me take her place!" 

"Well someone’s in a bad mood," The fairy man snapped his head towards "Venti".

"Oh great, it's you. What do you want this time?" 

"This kind person here is the one requesting something," Y/n awkwardly waved as "Venti" pointed to them.

"And who are you? A lowly human?"

"I'm Y/n. I didn't want to summon you. I thought this man here was pranking me but apparently, you're a fairy who can help me,"

"I don't help anyone just cause they ask nicely. I only helped this guy once because I owe him my life. But he's also the reason I'm a cursed fairy," The fairy glared at "Venti ", "Wanderer at your service. What can I do for you?"

"Well... Wanderer. I was hoping I could get an outfit for this ball... and maybe a carriage?" Y/n shyly asked, worried about this fairy's outbursts.

He merely sighed, "Alright, done and done. What else?"

"Um... I guess that's it. Oh, I’d like it if my face can’t be recognized with the mask on too. What do I need to give you in return?"

Wanderer was just dumbfounded, "Is that it?" He thought for a second, "Then... in return, I wish for you to take me as your date."

This caught "Venti" off guard, he dryly chuckled, "I didn’t realize you would fall easily for a ‘lowly human’. You just met! At least take them out to dinner first.”

Y/n and Wanderer became flustered with Y/n lightly hitting “Venti”, “Don’t just say things like that!”

"Shut it! I meant as an acquaintance. I've been wanting to leave this god forbidden well. Now do we have a deal or not?" Wanderer held out his hand to seal the deal. Y/n nodded and took it. Before long they were surrounded by blue-colored winds which completely changed their outfit. It was white and gold themed, each piece beautifully detailed along with the mask on their face. Alongside Y/n was a fancy white pumpkin carriage.

Once the winds had gone, Y/n turned to face Wanderer, who was wearing a matching outfit. "Venti" sighed before putting up his facade again, "You two look wonderful. Shall we get going?"

"We? Who said you were going?" Wanderer gave "Venti" A death glare while assisting Y/n into the carriage. 

"Eh? I'm a part of the ball am I not?"

"He says he’s the bard, he'll be performing tonight. Just let him in," This made Wanderer turn his head towards "Venti" with suspicion before giving in and letting him inside the carriage. 

The three finally arrived at the castle steps. Y/n rushed ahead of the other two, excited to see everything, the castle was simply magnificent. Wanderer looked at "Venti" as he made his way up the steps with him, "Why are you lying to them? What's the point?"

"Me? Lying? Why would I ever do such a thing?"

"Don't pull my leg, you know what I'm talking about. Why not tell them you're the Prince's brother?" 

"Hm... Truth be told, I noticed them a while ago. I must admit, I think they're quite enchanting. However, I don't like the idea of my princely title getting in the way. I believe it would be best if I put on this play for as long as I can,"

"Until what? Until you get tangled in your web of lies? You really think they'd like someone who just lies their way out of everything?"

"Oh? And you think they'd like a fairy who throws tantrums as you do?"

"They’re more likely to fall for me than you,"

"Oh? Has the great fairy fallen for the sweet Y/n?" 

“Don’t be absurd!”

Meanwhile, Y/n had been admiring the architecture. From the pillars to the patterns in the ceiling. That is until they bumped into the redhead of the night who was dancing with one of Y/n's stepsisters Y/n fell to the ground and so Diluc stopped dancing to help them up.

"Uh- excuse me! You were dancing with me. Why are you helping this peasant?" Diluc simply gave her a stoic look as Y/n took his hand, he was clearly uninterested in their step-sister. 

"Pardon me," Was all he said as he went off to dance with Y/n, "I apologize for my dancing partner's harsh words. I hope you're alright. We bumped into you quite roughly."

Y/n's heart just beat faster, the Prince was a true gentleman. This was the first time Y/n had ever seen him, there were no pictures they could see of him. He was the standard of beauty. The way his long red hair just moved along with him as the two danced the night away. Truly breathtaking. The two needed no words, they were able to dance perfectly in sync as if they were made to complete each other. 

Wanderer and "Venti" were nearby, watching the two. The sight of the Prince and Y/n dancing made Wanderer laugh, "Are you jealous, Prince Kaeya?"

"Not at all. Just because they dance well together does not mean they're fated to be together," Now, Prince Kaeya was able to smoothly cover his true feelings up but he couldn't help but feel the ache in his chest seeing his brother whisk the one he had fallen for so long ago away. 

Wanderer was simply not convinced and decided to push further, "I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I can just see that they were made for each other."

"Aren't you supposed to be a fairy godmother? It’s not very godly of you to not help a poor soul in need,"

"Shut it. Buer was, not me. But we all know what happened. Not helping you should be considered payback for what you've done to me,"

"Whatever you say, Wanderer. I'll be in the gardens," Prince Kaeya excused himself.

Y/n could hardly take their eyes off Diluc's. The red eyes were full of passion and ambition. Diluc smiled at them, "So I'm assuming you're here for the potential to be my spouse?"

"Wait- what?" Y/n was taken aback, stopping their dance, "I had no idea this was meant to be a matchmaking type of ball!"

Diluc was now equally confused, "So... you didn't come here to try to marry me?"

"No! I just wanted to get out for once and didn't even think I'd run into you! Not that I'm complaining of course,"

 "Oh. I see. Then… if you'd like we can explore the palace?"

"I'd love that actually," Diluc guided them through the palace, ignoring anyone who asked him or Y/n to be their partner. From the throne room, through the halls, until they both reached the gardens. The pair were chatting about the architecture, getting quite close. Diluc was just about to see what Y/n looked like without the mask until they spotted Prince Kaeya. Diluc approached first.

"Ah, Y/n. This is-," 

"Venti? What are you doing here?" Diluc raised a brow and Kaeya immediately stood up.

"Kaeya. Care to explain why this lovely individual is calling you by the name of our bard?"

"I can explain," He calmly stated, gathering himself, "Y/n. I may have lied to you."

"What? Why? Who are you then?" 

"That is my brother, Prince Kaeya of Mondstadt."

"You were the other Prince!?" Y/n nearly fell over if Diluc wasn’t holding onto them.

"I apologize for lying. I didn't want my title to intimidate you... to be honest I... never mind that. How are you enjoying the ball? I see you've got my brother in your arms. I take it you two shall be wed?"

Y/n became flustered immediately, "Oh no no! I didn't even realize this ball was meant to be with Prince Diluc until five minutes ago!"

"Oh? So I still have a chance then?" Kaeya smoothly replied.

"Brother! Must you be so impolite?" Diluc frowned. That's when Wanderer arrived in the gardens, pulling Y/n aside as the brothers bickered.

"Y/n, I heard this lady talking about you. I think she knows who you are and plans on going home as soon as possible to make sure you're still there,” He looked behind himself just in case, “Is that why you wished to not be recognized with your mask on?”

Y/n sighs, "That must be my stepmother. She didn't want me coming here in the first place,"

"Then I must get you home quickly before she knows,"

Y/n looked back at the bickering brothers, “But what about-,”

Y/n’s stepmother was seen coming out of the ballroom with their step sisters towards the gardens. Wanderer had grabbed their hand, making a run for it. Amid their running, Y/n’s shoe slipped off. They looked back at it but Wanderer made them keep going, telling them to ignore it. The royal brothers frantically left the gardens, looking for the two, shouting their names.

Wanderer used his powers, and blue winds surrounded the two of them, suddenly appearing at his well. Wanderer sat them on a log and sat beside them, “Sorry for dragging you away like that. I didn’t want your stepmother to find you out. Figured it’d be a huge pain for you.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong. I should probably find a place to hide this outfit huh?”

“You can hide it with me if you want,”

The two of them sat in awkward silence until Y/n piped up, “I remember you said Ven- I mean… Prince Kaeya was the reason you’re a fairy godmother. How is that?”

Wanderer stared at Y/n, making them flinch and almost taking back the question if he hadn’t piped up, “Buer... Nahida was the original fairy of the well. At some point in my life, I was a poor boy just begging on the streets for scraps to eat. I think I passed out from starvation until young Prince Kaeya found me. He took me to Nahida’s well and she saved me. Because she and the prince saved me I felt I owed them. I asked what I could do in return. Nahida asked me to temporarily take over for her. She said she’d come out when I find… When I find something. She currently resides in the well, no idea when she’ll come out again.”

“What’s it like in there?”

“It’s beautiful. It has a nice palace that I normally live in. Nahida’s been in her room so I haven’t seen her in there much,”

“You said you helped Prince Kaeya once. When was that?”

He thought for a moment, “I’m sure if I told you, he’d try to kill me.”

“Tell me!” Y/n demanded.

“Alright, alright! When we were both a little older and I was still this cursed fairy thing, he was on the run from the palace. He had asked me to grant him the ability to be so charismatic because he wanted to be able to leave the palace whenever he pleased without anyone questioning him. I thought it was a stupid request but I granted it regardless,”

“I guess even younger Princes still have things to get away from,”

“Yes, I suppose so… he seems to care about you a lot you know. I’ve heard him talking about you for years, I feel like I practically know you without properly meeting you. It’s kind of annoying.”

Y/n froze, “Wait, what? Years? I just met him tonight!”

“Believe it or not, he’s watched you for years. Creep. Anyways, I think it’s best if we get you home, it’s past midnight and your so-called family is probably going to arrive home soon,”

They nodded. Wanderer took their hand and led them out of the forest, using the winds to lift them back into their room and magically changing them out of their ball outfit back into their rags. He waved goodbye to them and disappeared just before their stepfamily could see him. 

“Y/n! We’ve returned. I hope you’ve finished your chores,” Y/n’s stepmother announced as she barged into the house.

Y/n, back in their usual rags stood in the spotless home, stunning their family, “I was just relaxing by the fireplace, I hope you all had fun.”

Their step-sisters ignored Y/n and went up to their respective rooms. Y/n’s stepmother was still suspicious of them. So, as soon as Y/n went up to their room in a tiny and cramped attic, she locked the door. The next morning, the Prince and his assistant went all over the kingdom in order to return the shoe to the rightful owner and find the one who stole the Prince’s heart. Though it would be a while before they reach Y/n's home.

Y/n was lonely, being starved in their room, rarely getting a meal. That would be the case if Wanderer, for whatever reason, kept them company. He brought them food and newer clothes, he took care of them. It was strange but Y/n didn’t question it, afraid they would offend him. Though they did wonder, where had Prince Kaeya gone? It had been nearly a week. A quiet morning was interrupted by chattering downstairs. 

“Oh do come in! I’m sure my daughters would fit the shoe you’re speaking of!” Y/n’s stepmother enthusiastically spoke. It seemed the Prince and the advisor were here. If only Y/n could leave. They jiggled the door knob though it didn’t budge. They tried for the window but for some reason, it was as if the window was glued shut. Y/n began having a hard time breathing, feeling too claustrophobic.

With a gust of blue wind, Wanderer had appeared. He quickly made his way to Y/n, holding them in order to calm them down, “It’s alright, I am here now. I can get you out of here and you can try on that shoe and be safe with the Prince. I know you’ll be happy and safe.”

“But what about you? What happened to Prince Kaeya?”

“Don’t worry about me. Kaeya… he was forbidden from leaving. The King found out he had been sneaking out and locked him in his room. But I’m sure you’ll be able to see him too once you’re out of this place.”

“Wanderer?”

“What? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long. I was working on this story and it took forever to finish. But I'm glad I did, I'm kind of proud of it. Hope you all enjoyed it, there will be different endings that will come out soon.

Also if you have any questions please leave them in the comments below. I packed a lot of lore into this story (for no reason) and I'd love to answer your questions.

[strangestcase]

Tell me about your ghosts?

cracks knuckles and grins evilly

Here the ghosts are... not really the people they used to be. They're basically like the leftover stains of the people they were before they died; being a consciousness without a human brain left to its own devices for eternity will do that to you.

Ghosts don't have bodies- or actually they do, but they're confined to the weird ercheresque topsy-turvy "dimension" misplaced souls end up at. These bodies don't follow human anatomy or physiology, and can only interact with physical objects in very specific circumstances

Usually ghosts have a Pathos (a reason they can't move on) and an Anchor (something, like a place, an object, or a concept that allows them to interact with the physical world), but not always.

Some of my 13 ghosts are based off famous ghosts from around the world, and some are original-ish.

Speed Demon- a drag racer who took their daredevil tendencies to the grave after dying in a fatal crash. They challenge living speedsters to a race, promising them great things- before revealing their ghostly nature. These unfortunate souls rarely survive, and their deaths fuel their hot rod.  

Video Nasty- a mad programmer who, obsessed with creating the perfect game, killed themselves with pills. He haunts this last game of his. Some players dismiss it as buggy, but others, curious, investigate and find a glitched out side quest that saps their sanity and eventually drives them to destruction. 

Handsome Gentleman- a model who killed the artist who painted him, and then himself. The painting is now haunted by his ghost. It will subtly move when you aren’t looking, the garden behind him might change, and some even say that it becomes a monstrous portrait when the ghost is mad. 

Unlucky Joe- a clumsy construction worker that died in a preventable accident, now an invisible wandering ghost that brings bad luck and increasingly dangerous accidents wherever he goes. He only actively haunts someone if they first blame their own clumsiness on his presence. Nobody will believe them if that ever happens.

Bloody Vanity- a vain noblewoman who was killed by an angry mob. She hasn’t forgotten her vanity, and haunts mirrors. Your reflection might move on its own, or even reach out to strangle you with a wicked grin. If she thinks you’re prettier than her, she emerges from the mirror, caked in blood. 

Cuddle Bug- a serial killer who was gunned down by police. Now a ghost, she tries to circumvent her new existence to find and murder more victims. She has possessed a porcelain doll, and anybody who is near it will be drawn to it. The doll moves on its own when you aren’t looking and is said to talk.

Grave Mistake- a grave robber that got too greedy and begun killing to make up for a lack of fresh bodies. For their crimes they were executed and then, parts of their body were turned into various objects. If any of them comes into your possession, they will take the equivalent part of yours to make up for it. 

Masked Maw- a woman that was mutilated and killed by her jealous husband and now wanders the streets, covering her disfigured face-turned-monstrous maws with a mask. Every now and then she will take it off. If you ever comment on it, she’ll make your face like hers with a pair of scissors, cursing you forever. 

Bog Snatcher- a biologist that drowned in the bog she was studying. Her body and mind became one with it. Her obsession with keeping it alive has taken her to lure people deep into the bog, where they get irreparably lost. She can haunt any body of water as long as it’s surrounded by plants. 

Doctor Grime- a quack that died due to their own faulty treatments. They appear to be a person in a historically inaccurate plague doctor costume, but the mask is part of their body, and they’re really a slender bird-like monster. It causes people to fall ill with some mysterious, unspecified weird disease. 

Requiem Peace- a pianist who perished of a heart attack while he played. He plays the piano, but remains invisible. His beautiful music imbues people with sadness, but he is full of rage and will cause a powerful supernatural storm indoors if interrupted, wrecking the house with wind and rain. 

Party Goer- a bon-vivant yuppie who died in their sleep after a wild party. They have long forgotten their human life, and look like a children’s book illustration come to life. They possess living humans, who slowly begin to resemble the ghost in body and mind, a giggly trickster always chasing new highs. 

Hook Sinker- a mysterious sea apparition that resembles a corpse with hooks for hands. It appears only on boats, and it slaughters the crew one by one. There never are witnesses. Once the whole crew is dead, the boat sinks to the depths of the ocean. It can be staved off if you sacrifice one hand to it. 

One is based off a certain literary character <3 tee hee hee

[winniewon]

the less likable goonies

ft @xkilljxy @notwaldenpond @xavecamour @hauntedscreams

"where's alexander?"

the question hung in the quiet air for only a brief moment between the four third year deviants huddled at the door of the slytherin common room in tense anticipation before one finally cleared his throat and reminded them.

"it's a full moon."

which meant alexander zabini, the aforementioned sage of all things secret, would not be joining them on this little outing. he had regularly scheduled lunatic undertakings of a less capital variety to sort.

"aw, tits." "I'm sure that's what he'll be seeing." "ha!"

the boys jostled about in their ribbing, but a slightly more feminine figure grew bored and forcefully shoved open the dungeon door. it groaned and swung so that the uncharmed air chilled their cheeks, and she started slinking down the corridor at a steady pace, expecting to be followed.

"and he already told me everything he fucking knows."

a scarred hand gestured back at antonin dolohov who raised a folded parchment containing a suspiciously acquired set of blueprints as if to punctuate that blunt statement with proof. he was a particularly handsome boy even in the midst of puberty with long raven locks that framed his equally dark features. yet, he revealed nothing with his expression but a sardonic indifference to their chaotic surroundings.

"why'd he tell you?" to his left was walden macnair. a chubby cheeked kid who had obviously just hit a growth spurt and was still trying to figure out this new wingspan. still, they all knew he had at least two hatchets strapped to the belt underneath his cloak and physically could not contain the excited expression on his face for anything.

damocles belby stood exhausted to the far right. the leather satchel hoisted over his shoulder clattered and tinked with every step much to his apparent annoyance. he had rings under his eyes and his hair was slightly disheveled (or perhaps hadn't ever been styled), but the collar sat flat against his well-fitting sweater vest and his pants were perfectly pressed. he sighed.

"ooh, probably since I have excessive experience in memorizing the security patterns of high level enterprises for this specific purpose with less than a twenty-four hour time frame, and, let's see, can you remember what the fuck we had for breakfast today?"

"winnie-"

guinevere montague, more commonly known as winnie, turned on her heel without breaking pace, stepping blindly backwards with as much confidence as one would sprint down a racetrack. a scrawny and sleek spit of thing that beneath the heinous scarring and tattoos most would mistake for a girl at first glance, and perhaps she was once, but that part of her seemed to have already died before anyone here met her.

"now, now. give him a proper chance." she chided.

"I didn't even get to eat breakfast." "we definitely had toast."

one voice drowned out the other as the two persons who remained unasked answered her question instead. the wicked, wily smile that winnie wore was ill fit for the lovely, young face that bore it. "see? they have absolutely no faith in you, and for the fucking record, antonin had toast, you had eggs, I had both and also dam's pastry."

walden chuckled as they scrambled out of the castle and headed towards the forbidden forest without any interference. "I don't get it. was I supposed to remember breakfast? it was lunch that was fun."

luckily, antonin managed to get the schedule regarding the prefects rounds for this particular evening, and damocles happily spent half of his monthly allowance to bribe some kids with arranged alibi's for the lot of them. meanwhile, walden ensured an 'incident' in the greenhouse to thoroughly distract the majority of the staff.

it should have been a straight shot through the woods to a clearing just past the barrier enchantment that prevented any magical means of travel to and from the school where winnie previously hid a portkey meant to take them to straight into gringotts. it should have been, but then again, it was a full moon. a panicked voice erupted from the shrubbery.

"get down!"

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[lailoken]

“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 4

masterlist

Hello my darlings! Here you go! Enjoy part four! We’re going to see how it works out bouncing between Jin and Yoongi’s stories, but please give me some grace between this and school, I might have to put on on hold. They’ll both get done eventually, but not quite as speedily as ADG. Thanks so much for reading!--- chaotic puff 

Jin couldn’t have been happier. Granted he didn’t have his darling by his side, but he could be generous. She needed some time after the day before, and it allowed him the opportunity to swoop in and be her knight in shining armor. She was all alone now and so fragile. It was the perfect opportunity. She needed comfort, stability, and Jin was going to provide it. She would officially be his in no time. He’d already prepared the house for her.

He was thrumming with excitement. He would bring her flowers, take her to the ballet. He would woo her. She wouldn’t be able to resist his charm. No woman could, and now there were no obstacles in his way. Everything was perfect. Everything was going his way, until she stepped into his office.

He was thrilled to see her at first, thrilled that she’d chosen to come to him despite him giving her the day off, and then he took note of her appearance. Never once had he seen her in jeans, but there she was in jeans and a flowy top looking as casual as he had ever seen her. Even when he called for her assistance late at night, she came looking perfectly put together. This was new for him. Another point of notice was the dark circles that made themselves at home under her eyes. From the look of it, she hadn’t even tried to conceal them. It didn’t look like she was wearing any makeup at all, and her hair was pulled half back messily strands falling haphazardly into her face. All in all, she looked absolutely exhausted like she hadn’t slept at all, and she hadn’t.

���Are you alright, darling?” He asked rising from his desk to greet her. “You look ill. You should be at home resting.” He swooped in pressing a hand to her forehead that she pushed away gently giving him a stern but tired look.

“I’m fine.” There was no smile. She always smiled at him. “I actually came to give you this.” She turned from him to dig around in her bag to retrieve an envelope, one that Jin knew exactly what was in it. It was a fucking resignation. “I apologize, sajangnim, but I won’t be able to serve you any longer.” She held out the envelope bowing politely and waiting for him to take it.

He was silent for a long terrible moment before snatching it out of her hands and ripping it in two. “No.”

She straightened up looking at him quizzically. “No?”

“No.” He growled glaring down at her.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders determined to stand her ground. “I’m sorry, sir, but this isn’t your choice to make. I’m sorry for the sudden notice, but I cannot continue to work for you.”

The words were so calm, so clinical. It infuriated him. She wanted to leave him. After everything he’d done for her, she was just going to leave? He’d built her up from nothing, and she thought she could leave? This was not his darling. This was an ungrateful brat, and Jin hated brats.

“And if I choose not to accept your resignation?” 

Of course when she became his, she would no longer work for him. Kim Seokjin’s woman would have no need to work, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was trying to leave on her own terms, and that simply wasn’t allowed, not when she belonged to him.

“Then I’ll take my leave and pay the penalty for breaking contract.” She responded chin held high though she had the drawn appearance of someone who was tottering on the brink of exhaustion. She looked small and weak, and Jin could only blame the boy for that. He was the reason for her pallor, for her exhaustion, for her defiance. 

“You’re exhausted and shocked after yesterday, unsurprising for someone so delicate.” He ground out trying to keep his cool. “I’ll ignore this as a lapse of judgement caused by the stress of the last few days.”

Y/N was taken aback by that. He was brushing this off as what? The overreaction of a delicate demeanor? She made no attempt to hide how offended she was at the insinuation. 

“Delicate? I do not make decisions based on exhaustion or shock. Min Seok was my fiancée,” she paused taking a breath. “Almost my fiancée. After what’s happened, I would find it inappropriate to continue working for you especially considering I’ll be hiring a lawyer to defend him.”

“What?” The question was breathed out in shock, rage barely in check. She wanted to defend the little bastard? She believed herself that in love with him? No, she was just confused. Jin would help her see reason.

“I don’t believe that he would embezzle from the company, and I’m going to stand by him. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” She bowed again, turning on her heel to leave, but Jin’s far larger hand encircled her wrist tugging her back making her stumble into his chest.

“Mr. Kim.” She scolded pulling herself away.

“I’m afraid I have some terrible news for you, darling.” He cooed the sympathy coating his voice was saccharine and completely offset by the gleeful twinkle in his eye. “Kim Min Seok is dead.”

She paused the entire world standing still for a moment. “What?” The question was barely even breathed out as she stared at him with wide eyes tears welling up in them. “No.” She shook her head backing away. “You’re lying.”

“No, darling. I’m not.” He sauntered over to his desk picking up the falsified file that had been prepared for an instance just like this. “He escaped police custody and died in the attempt to flee.” He held out the file to her. “I have the file the police brought over just this morning.”

He watched attentively as every bit of color drained from her face. “No…” She whimpered. “No, no, no, no, no, no.” Her hands went up clawing into her already messy hair as she tried to make sense of the news. “He can’t be!” She cried eyes wild as she began to hyperventilate.  

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He wasn’t, but the pretense of providing comfort gave him the perfect opportunity to wrap his arms around her gently rubbing his large hands up and down her arms in what was supposed to be a calming gesture. It had the opposite affect though. His proximity. The smell of his cologne. The news. It was all so overwhelming. She felt sick, dizzy.

“He can’t be dead.” She whimpered tears flowing freely now. “He can’t be. He was… he was alive. I saw him. He was fine last night. I just saw him.”

Jin shushed her pulling her further into his arms, wrapping himself around her. “It’s alright.” He cooed. “You’re going to be alright.”

“NO!” She cried ripping herself away from him not wanting him near her, not wanting him touching her. “He’s not dead!”

This man, this man was the devil. How could he tell her so casually that Min Seok was dead? How could he tell her it was alright? What kind of heartless creature was he?

“Darling…” Jin approached her slowly, carefully, not liking the way she seemed to sway on her feet. “Darling, you need to rest.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper now as her world crumbled around her. “No. He can’t be…he isn’t.”

Jin lunged forward as he watched the swaying grow worse. He was just in time to catch her as her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began to crumple. He gently lowered them both to the floor relishing the feeling of her tucked safely away in his arms. She was still drawn, looking completely wiped out, but she was safe in his arms. He moved a strand of hair from her face lovingly, cooing at how fragile she looked in his arms.

Eventually, he pulled out his phone calling for his driver. It was time to take her home. A hospital would have been more practical, but Jin wanted her safely at home. He could bring the doctor to her.

He scooped her up in his arms carrying her out of his office. It was a spectacle. The employees were all clamoring at the sight wanting to know if she was alright. He brushed them all citing exhaustion as the reason behind it all. She’d be well soon enough. Jin would make sure of that. His darling would have the best care, and she’d soon forget all about her suitor. She had Jin. What need would she have for anyone else?

Y/N came to in a horribly familiar room. This was not her home, nor was it the hospital despite the IV that was attached to her arm. This was Jin’s home. This was his bedroom. The panic did not set in slowly. It came all at once like an all-encompassing wave. The panic only worsened when she realized, these were not her clothes. She didn’t own anything this fine. She didn’t own nightgowns let alone long silk nightgowns. She preferred the same ratty old comfortable pajamas she had had for years.

She ripped the IV out of her arm uncaring about the pain or the blood. Her only focus was making it to the door and getting the hell out of there. She didn’t know why Jin had brought her there, but she didn’t want to find out. She ran through the penthouse stumbling down the stairs in her desperate dash for the door.

This wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She never came her of her own volition. It was too intimate. Not even Jin’s parade of women would go to his home, and it always made her skin crawl when the called her there.

It was an easy dash. She knew the way. She had been to Jin’s home many times before, but when she reached the door, she found something she was not so familiar with. There was a lock placed there that had never been there before. It was sleek and black, ominous. But still she tried the door even though she was unsure if it would open for her. It did not. She tugged at the handle trying her hardest to open it out of sheer force of will, but it was unyeilding. She tried the keypad as well, tapping in every combination she could think of, but every time, the keypad flashed red telling her she had failed.

“Please!” She shrieked banging on the door. “Please!” She continued to scream and plead banging against the unyielding wood. No one was there though.

Jin lived on a private floor. The elevator opened to a narrow hallway separating the penthouse from the rest of the building. Her only hope would be if someone was coming up to the penthouse and would hear her screams. It was unlikely though. Jin didn’t like anyone invading his space, his immaculate home, and there was no sign of the house keeper that made his home so immaculate. The most likely person to find her was Jin himself, and at this time, he was not someone she wanted to see.

The commotion had summoned him though. He stayed back watching indifferently as she screamed and cried trying to leave, but Jin had planned for that. She wouldn’t be able to get past the lock. He’d allow her out in time, but for now he needed to make her his sweet darling again, his sweet obedient darling. The boy had made her defiant, a brat. Jin wouldn’t put up with that, and it was safer to keep her inside away from harm while she grieved, while she adjusted. Jin would be everything she needed. She’d see that soon enough. She’d realize how lucky she was, how perfect they were together. 

He watched her until she’d tired herself out slumped against the door crying, trembling and completely exhausted before he made a move.

“Oh darling,” he clucked sympathetically coming to crouch next to her crumpled form. “Look at you. You’ve exhausted yourself.” He tutted fussing over her and moving her hair away from her face even though she flinched back from him violently. “Now, now, darling. None of that.”

He scooped her up, ignoring her weak struggles. She couldn’t struggle against him really. She’d used what little energy she had trying to open a locked door. His poor stupid darling.

The doctor had confirmed that she was dehydrated and exhausted. That combined with the shock had been too much for her. She’d be fine after some rest and a good meal.

“The doctor didn’t want you up and about yet. And you’ve hurt yourself, my poor darling.” He fussed looking at the place where she’s ripped out the IV, stubborn girl. There was blood smeared against her arm. She hadn’t been gentle when she’d ripped it out. She’d caused herself more damage than needed.

He could have tied her down, prevented this, but it was better for her to know now that she wouldn’t be leaving him. He was the only one with the code to open the door, and they were too high up for her to consider something as foolhardy as jumping from the balcony. It also helped that she had a decided fear of heights. It was something he’d discovered when he’d brought her on her first international business trip with him. She’d been petrified the entire flight despite their luxurious seats. She wouldn’t be making any stupid decisions like that, and if she did? God help her. Jin would not put up with such disobedience.

“Let’s get you back to bed. Okay, darling?” He asked smiling down at her with a lovesick expression. Everything would be perfect now.

part 5

[cupcakemolotov]

When Blood Calls for Blood

Hmm. This was supposed to be a mafia story for the AU Season that @klaroline-event is putting on, and instead descended into the depths of blood magic and werewolves, and some horror. Your guess is as good as mine as how that happened. Anyway. Hopefully this still works for Crime week. People ARE murdered.

Here you go. You can read it on A03 if you prefer.

Warnings: Blood Magic, Werewolves, Necromancy, death, some gore but not a lot, discussion about sex but no actual smut in this.

                                                           -

The brandy in her glass was excellent, but she hadn’t expected anything else. Klaus had come a long way from the boy next door with skinned knees and paint smeared fingers. That it’d been nearly a decade since she’d seen him hadn’t changed nearly as much as she’d have liked. Same tumbled curls, same dimples, same charm that lingered like a second skin over the sharper, harder parts of his smile. But now, his thinness had filled out into lean strength and he’d grown into the shape of his nose, the curve of his jaw. 

Caroline hadn’t expected to like the look of him as much as she did after all this time. Had hoped some distance would dull the want that had once lingered between them. She also hadn’t anticipated the way his gaze could still trace against her skin with the same intensity of a touch, but now with a new, markedly adult male appreciation that hinted at all sorts of fun things. Dangerous things, thoughts she’d pushed away much easier with the naivete of a teenager than she was finding herself able to do as a grown woman. 

Klaus had never been easy to ignore.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?” She asked once he’d leaned a hip against the desk next to him when she’d chosen not to sit. She didn’t know this man as well as she once had and she wasn’t prepared to be that vulnerable. Not yet. “We both know what you sent Elijah to tell me you wanted. I want to know why you think I should go along with it.”

A hint of a smile curved his lips. There was a strange sort of affection in his gaze which surprised her, in this childhood home of his, this house of horrors that had birthed monsters. She wished Enzo was there, to tell them if there were ghosts. If the rotting bones of Mikael beneath their feet still suffered.

“I’ve missed your directness, love. Most people are too afraid of me to try it.” His lashes lowered for a heartbeat, and his voice deepened. “And far too terrified to offer such blatant disapproval.”

Caroline gave him an unconcerned look. “I agreed  to this meeting because we were once friends. Not because I bought into the spiel that Elijah was selling. I walked away from this kind of life, and I had very good reasons to do so. You know that.”

A flash of something wolf-yellow glimmered faintly at the edges of his gaze, but she didn’t flinch. Klaus was dangerous. So very, very dangerous. Here, in Mystic Falls where they’d both spent their childhoods, it was almost possible to forget the lessons Chicago and New York had already learned. But Caroline had learned to deal with Klaus and his caustic mix of power and temper years earlier. A little of the wolf wasn’t enough to warn her off. 

Though it did intrigue her. Before, his control had been something held together by tenterhooks, his rage palpable. She had wondered if he’d buried it deep in his bones, left it to fester in muscle and marrow, but that glimmer told her he’d made a different choice. 

She was glad.

“Blood calls to blood, love.” There was something in his voice, a note that was sharp and apologetic both. “And you are Bill Forbes daughter.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “I’m going to need more brandy if that's the angle you're taking. Thankfully, he only provided half my genetics, and none of my looks.”

The hard line of his shoulders eased, her words answering some unspoken question. “I know.”

Her expression sharpened. She did not like that he was able to read her so well. “If you’re not going to get to the point, I will leave.”

His laugh was soft, and unexpected. And it did nothing to lessen her mad. Reaching up, he briefly rubbed his neck and when his gaze returned to hers. The blue was gone, awash with gold and wolf. Inexplicably, her own tension gave, if just a little. She might no longer know the man, but she understood the wolf. 

“Elijah says you are well informed of my ongoings.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if that’s hard. A werewolf with the bad taste to be born to a witch, and who the poor manners of eating other witches is not, exactly, an unknown creature in the local gossip. Mystic Falls does so love it’s little horrors. It’s not like it’s hard to figure out where you’re going or where you’ve been.”

His dimples creased his cheeks. “That’s true. And yet, here you are.”

The implied threat was said teasingly. Caroline deliberately took a sip of her brandy. “If your wolf had wanted me dead, it would have made the attempt that when I was thirteen and tossed you three pine trees to save Enzo. If the man had wanted me dead, Elijah would never have sworn a binding saying this meeting was done in truce.” Her smile was sharp. “At least not knowingly. My magic is not kind when it comes to broken vows, and he hates me.”

His gaze narrowed at the blunt reminder, but his voice held no hint of anger. Just a hunting triumph. “I found Rebekah.”

And everything snapped into place. Setting her glass down, she stared at him. “And Elijah couldn't have led with that?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t…” Caroline stared at him for a long moment before tossing back her drink and moving towards one of the chairs. Ten years. It’d been ten years, and she understood everything those words meant. “Fine. I’ll bite. What is going on?”

To her surprise, he chose the chair next to her. His gaze holding hers, he deliberately tipped his knee lightly against her own. “Rebekah is in New Orleans.”

Her brows furrowed and her words were honest as she tried to ignore the feel of him against her. That sparking challenge in his eyes. “But you looked there years ago.”

That slow, thoughtful smile curled on his face again and she wished she hadn’t finished the brandy. “You have been tracking me.”

Caroline sighed and for the first time, looked away. She did not want to speak of the need to know he was still alive, to trust that he’d find some kind of reason after the death of his step-father. The wolf could have easily poisoned the man with its hate as the man could have destroyed the wolf with its rage.

“My father… the things he did.” Her words died and she shrugged. “I miss her too.”

They were survivors, her and Klaus. Enzo and Rebekah, though they were missing. Witchborn and powerful, they were the last remnants of bloodlines and blood feuds that should have never existed. Klaus, with his wolf and his rage. Enzo, with his affinity for the dead and his wicked sense of humor. Rebekah, the living embodiment of her mother’s hopes and wishes, but without the same darkness. And she? She was her father’s daughter, for all the Liz Forbes had done her best to temper it. 

“Then you’ll help me.”

And that blatant satisfaction, the roughness of his wolf in his voice warned her that he thought he had won. She let her gaze return Klaus’ face, and the force of temper clashed against his. She did not like being boxed in. He needed to remember that. “Will I? What I owed you was a blood debt and that was paid in full. What my family did to yours was terrible, but what Esther did to my mother was also terrible. There are no debts between us, not anymore.”

Enzo might argue that point, but her wiley best friend had been missing nearly as long as Rebekah. 

“You’ll help me,” Klaus repeated, unbothered by her irritation. Her temper, the surge of power that came with it, had always bothered him as little as his wolf had unnerved her. “And in turn, I will help you.”

“And what,” Caroline drawled, “do I need your help with? I’m perfectly capable of burying bodies on my own these days.” She wiggled her manicured fingers. “I don’t even have to break a nail to do it.”

That flicker of affection again, tempered by determination. He reached for an envelope that sat on the edge of his desk and handed it to her. “I’d have helped you regardless, but this might make things more comfortable between us.”

She snorted even as she opened the envelope to pull out a single sheet. “Things have never been particularly comfortable between us at all.”

Caroline ignored the deeply satisfied noise he made and looked at the picture. Enzo’s face, battered, bruised, stared up at her and she went motionless at the tangle of anger and fear that swept through her. “How…”

She’d looked. 

“It took finding Rebekah.” A bitterness in his voice she understood. “And once I did, I knew where to look. The scattered pieces of our past are not easy things, love.”

Mute with rage, she glanced back at him. 

“When the Witch Council attempted to end the feud between our families, they were not prepared for the realities of what that would mean.” His teeth gleamed behind his lips. “They were ill prepared for our families' hate, I imagine our cooperation never occurred to them.”

Caroline snorted. They should have been prepared for all of it. Feuding witches were no small thing. Though in her more charitable moments, she allowed that some things just could not have been foreseen. Not the fallout from Ester’s affair, not Bill’s jealousy, not Mikael’s malice. 

Rebekah should have been safe. They should have all been safe. None of them had been. 

“They should have done better.”

His smile held teeth. “Yes.”

It had been her and Enzo, who had held Mikael with their magic while Klaus had shifted to wolf to rip his step-father apart. Enzo, who had commanded the dead man to dig his own grave in the study Mikael had been so fond of. Later, Klaus had opened a bottle of expensive bourbon and they had gotten drunk listening to the sound of a shovel moving dirt.

It had taken hours to repair the foundation with magic.

Mystic Fall was full of so many nightmares. 

Her gaze returned to the picture in her hands. And something turned cold and brittle in her chest. “That is the symbol of St. Augustine.”

“Yes.”

She stood then and paced toward the window. When she spoke, her words trembled with magic. Behind her, the desk shuddered. She hadn’t been this close to losing her temper since the day she walked into her home to find it smelling of blood and her mother’s death. Had found what she had been meant to see. 

 “The Augustine Society belongs to the Witch Council.” Her fists clenched. “And have Enzo.”

She knew the Augustine Society. The horrors the Witch Council offered them. She knew, because her father had also belonged to that society before blood madness had taken him. And they had possibly the greatest necromancer of her generation, trapped. 

Fingertips brushed lightly down the bare nap of her neck. The touch was possessive, careful. An old trick, to anchor her. It made it no less personal. “So it is.”

Caroline closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard him move. “What did my father do, that you cannot claim your sister?”

“It’s a blood bind. I cannot break it.”

“No,” she murmured, letting the soft touches of his fingertips focus her. “You wouldn’t be able too.”

“But you can.” His words were lethal in their softness, coaxing in their delivery. “You're more powerful.”

“Flattery,” she said. Then she sighed. “But you’re not wrong. Still, the witches of New Orleans will never allow me into their city.”

They’d never allow Liz Forbes' daughter in their heart of power. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. So strange, for a city to fear her mother’s blood.

Strange, but not unwise.

“I didn’t plan on asking permission.”

She turned to face him then, letting the window at her spine hold her weight and studied his face. Such arrogance, but not unwarranted. A full coven might face the nightmare he gave shape too with his bones, but perhaps not. Klaus had cut quite a swath through the witch families in the US. 

His mother’s perfect monster. 

“A blood bind will not be easy to break, not after so many years since it was cast.” She considered what it meant, how far gone her father had been in his madness. “I will likely need a sacrifice, and that is a magic I have sworn not to use lightly.”

“You won’t fall to the same madness.” The assurance in his voice was so, so arrogant. “I will not allow it.”

Caroline gave a bark of laughter. “You cannot know that, cannot expect to dictate such a thing.”

“But I can,” he disagreed. “I’ve seen your magic, Caroline. I’ve witnessed the price of it, the horror of it, and justice of it. Esther’s death was not easy. I know what you are.”

“Ester deserved more,” she said. “But we work with what we have. And I am no longer, sixteen, Klaus. What anchored me as a teenager will not work for the adult.”

Then it’d had been enough to cling to his wolf. To bury her face and hands in the thick pelt of his fur while she rode out the drowning horror, the unrelenting ecstasy of her magic, to let the sensation of fur on skin be the distraction from the siren call of endless power. The blood she wore on her skin.

She’d always liked his wolf. 

Blood magic was dangerous. And witches who practiced it always, always lost themselves. Caroline’s father had been no exception. She would likely not be either. Thankfully, she wasn’t just her father’s daughter. 

“And what,” Klaus asked lightly, eyes deepening to the blue of the man, something as dark as the working of her magic coloring his voice. “Do you need?”

Her nails dug into her palms and she lifted her chin. “What are you offering?”

Klaus’ head lowered until his nose nearly brushed hers, his mouth tantalizing close to hers. “Anything you want.”

Her teeth sank briefly into her lip and she sighed. “We both know how my father chose to feed his need and how well that worked for him.”

Satisfaction and a want so blatant and greedy on his face, she struggled to suck in her next breath. “Steven knew what he was doing when he agreed to join your father’s bed. He was aware of the risks. So am I.”

Her voice shook only a little when she spoke. “Rebekah’s temper is no small thing, Klaus. If she wakes up to me fucking her brother, I don’t think she’s going to be pleased.” 

His hand lifted to curve along her jaw, thumb brushing tantalizing across her lips. “Elijah can secure Bekah, once she is free.”

And Elijah would just love that. “So you are planning on telling him you found her.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “Both he and Kol will be needed for this. Even if only a mirage, we must show the world where our loyalties lie.”

Caroline winced. “They still haven’t forgiven you for not kiling me, then.”

When Elijah had appeared at her home to request her presence for this meeting, she’d almost hoped. 

“As they are not strong enough to oppose me, their opinions of your magic do not matter.” His jaw tightened. “From either side of your family.”

“Klaus…” She caught his hand. “They are not wrong. Blood magic is an abomination, not counting what my mother left me with her death. Killing me would likely make the world a better place.” 

His eyes flared with his wolf, and his words were near violent with intensity. “I disagree. Am I too, not an abomination? You protested quite viciously when my mother attempted to do just that.”

His voice sounded the same as it always had, when he spoke of her murdering his mother. Delighted satisfaction with a hint of growl.

Caroline rolled her lip tightly between her teeth. This was what her mother had never understood. What Esther had miscalculated. This tugging in her chest, as she thought about a world without Klaus. The way he dared her with his eyes and his worlds to repeat herself, to suggest he would allow the world to exist without her. The thing that had left her walking away from him, uncertain what lengths she could allow herself to go to preserve it. 

The boy who had painted her flowers and the man who understood the depth of what she could become, what she feared. 

But he’d found Rebekah. Enzo.

“You understand that if I agree to this, it won’t end with rescuing Rebekah and Enzo,” she said slowly. Likely wouldn’t end with her willing to walk away from him a second time, and the bloody future that promised. “I’m not that forgiving. If the Augustine Society was part of this, if they supported my father? Enzo will want them dead and so will I.”

“Oh, sweetheart, as if I’d object.” His mouth curved. “But why stop there? Not when we both know the Witch Council had to be involved.”

So much destruction. So much blood. Carefully, she reached up with her free hand and traced the shape of his mouth while he went carefully motionless. “It would be helpful, if the sacrifice had a tie to Bekah.”

His lips pursed against her fingers for a moment before he moved just enough to respond. “The Salvatore’s are in New Orleans.”

And that terrible anger, that thirst she’d managed to choke into behaving for ten years unfurled in her chest. “What a coincidence.”

And Klaus, whose monster knew her own, just smiled. “Isn’t it just?”

“How are you planning on explaining my presence in New Orleans?”

Mischief, sudden and startling, crossed his face. “The witches can hardly object to my bringing a date to Mardi Grais. The same as I have done for the past four years, in fact.”

Caroline blinked, and tried not to think about the twist of jealousy in her gut. “I am not pretending to be in a relationship with you.”

“Who said anything about pretending?” His eyes laughed at her but his words were serious. “Shouldn’t you take a man to dinner before post ritual sex?”

She glowered at him, just to be contrary. “No.”

He shrugged, unperturbed.“We’re still sharing a room.”

She choked on a sudden laugh, at how easy and playful he made this. As they weren’t courting madness and the wrath of the council as they freed their family. As if everything was just a matter of them going out and conquering their enemies with his teeth and their magic. 

Simple, really. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Caroline questioned. “This… this will change everything.”

Klaus lowered his head, pressing his forehead to hers and smiled, dimples bracketing a smile made of sin and blood lust that struck her in her chest. The smile of a predator well satisfied.

“Yes, I think it will.”

[specterchasing-a]

Down, boy! || Eddie & Bea

TIMING: Current-ish

PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze​ & @specterchasing​

LOCATION: Illusions of Grandeur

SUMMARY: Eddie literally runs from his problems and Bea talks some sense into him.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Suicidal ideations tw, sibling death tw.

The shops and faces lining ‘Freak Alley’ flew by in colorful blurs as Eddie’s feet slapped against the sidewalk. An over-the-shoulder glance let him know that the hellhound he attracted at a nearby cemetery was gaining on him. Its size led him to believe he’d somehow lucked out and stumbled upon a runt, or perhaps a pup if hellhounds underwent adolescence. Eddie didn’t know and, in the moment, he frankly didn’t care; it could clearly still breathe fire.

Wicked heat kissed the soles of his shoes and Eddie’s next step became more of a leap. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck,” he chanted as he darted across the street. Panic set it, but it wasn’t the sole cause of Eddie’s heart beating at break-kneck speed. A laugh erupted from his chest. He liked the threat of imminent danger. No thrill on earth matched the anxious euphoria of knowing his next breath might be his last. A hellhound would make for an interesting obituary, at least, even if the local paper reduced it to an errant wolf.

Eddie skidded to a halt in front of a building, he didn’t bother to stop and read any signage that might tell him the name of his safe haven. His hand gripped the door and  flung it open. Once inside, he pressed his back against the entrance to hopefully stop the hellhound from entering with force. Unfortunately, the dimwitted beast didn’t get the memo that it wasn’t welcome and launched its body against the door with considerable vigor once, twice…

Members of the crowd turned their heads toward the commotion. Apparently, Eddie was interrupting some kind of show. His eyes snapped to the stage, landing on an unexpectedly familiar face. “Nell’s sister? I thought she was in—” 

Three times.

Eddie’s thoughts were interrupted when the impact of the hellhound's small, but dense, body threw the door open. The force sent him forward and into the crowd, albeit face-down on the floor. Eddie scrambled to his feet as a few of the crowd members shrieked at the sudden introduction of a wild beast. Chaos ensued as people scattered in search of an emergency exit. Eddie whipped around in time to see flames billowing from the dog’s mouth. A few seats, recently abandoned, caught fire.

In an attempt to rectify his mistake, Eddie bolted in the direction of a fire extinguisher. A moment later, the sprinkler system kicked on, drenching everyone in sight. Eddie marched closer to the hellhound and attacked it with a stream of white froth. “Fuck off!” he commanded as the beast caught a mouthful of foul chemicals. It reared back, whining as its head thrashed from side to side. But Eddie’s bright idea didn’t deter it for long. The hound stumbled forward and prepared for another attack.

Freedom was a nasty concept to Beatrice. As a child, picking flowers and stealing moments with Leah was freedom. Teenaged Bea had found parties she snuck out to were freedom. Before she died, freedom had been her secrets, she had held freedom in clenched hands, hidden from her coven and family. Now, she had died and come back, her secrets revealed and discovered. Her freedom was not her secrets any longer, so what was it? 

She had thought the stage was freedom until death and rebirth. It became a cage, a spectacle that could be used to see how different she had become. Deciding to reclaim it, to allow everyone to see who she was now, that tasted like an early summer morning. It had the stillness before a busy day, it had a moment of peace in it. It tasted like the beginnings of freedom, a taste she had begun to remember and enjoy in New York. 

It did not taste like smoke, a flavor that had snuck into her mouth as she performed. Smoke had no place in her show now, not now that she couldn’t control the flames. Her element was no longer fire and smoke was no longer a flavor she could feel safe tasting. She was off the stage and stalking forward to the Hellhound as people rushed out of the theater. 

She recognized the man in front of the hellhound vaguely, though she had no idea how. He was trying to smother the beast with a fire extinguisher and Bea couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Of course this is how her first performance since Adam would be. 

Her shadows leapt out, tightening around the beast mouth, clamping it shut as others worked around it’s paws. “What the hell were you thinking bringing this into my business?” She’d have to call Nell to help her with this.

Eddie watched in startled wonderment as shadows turned themselves into shackles around the hellhound’s paws. A muzzle of the same making wrapped around its jaws while it struggled against its newfound restraints. Smoke seeped out of the muzzle, but the fire was contained for the time being. Magic, he figured. Not cheap illusions, but actual magic. 

He jumped at the sound of Beatrice’s voice demanding his attention.  Eddie already felt guilty before she spoke, now the feeling consumed him. He turned to face her with an apologetic expression. As far as he could tell, they were the only two people remaining inside the venue. No one would be around to see him be reprimanded, at least.

“It chased me,” Eddie explained with a helpless shrug. “What was I supposed to do, die in the street?” For someone who wanted to say he was sorry, the words didn’t come to him. He hated that about himself, the way he instinctively took a defensive stance when he felt cornered. 

The crashing realization that Nell might still be too ill to handle this hit Bea hard and fast. It was like a softball to the stomach as she remembered how grief could hurt a person’s magic, Nell could struggle to control this Hellhound and who was Bea to ask her sister to try to after everything happened? She would have to attempt to deal with herself and if it was too much, then she would call Nell.

The face of an apology with defense on their lips was something Bea was intimately familiar with. She had been that way, she occasionally was still that way, and while the familiarity softened her, a scowl had already found its way onto her face. “That is not at all what I said or implied.” Her arm swung out behind her, “This is the place you decided to run in. Did you see how many people were in here? What would the plan have been if I wasn’t here? Let the people here burn and hope for the best?” She didn’t know this man, but that didn’t stop her scolding tone. “How did you even get chased by a Hellhound?”

With each question Bea asked him, Eddie’s guilt worsened. He never meant to hurt anyone, but he seemed to be paving the road to hell with his good intentions as of late. Regardless of what he did, it usually turned out to be a wrong move. For the moment, he elected to put his pity party on the back-burner. Bea didn’t know him and she likely wouldn’t harbor much sympathy for a grown man who nearly cost dozens of innocent people their lives. For that, he couldn’t blame her.

“I was, uh, at the cemetery down the road apiece,” he answered her most recent question, pointing his thumb in the direction he came from. “It was just kinda hanging out and didn’t like that I was too.” Eddie failed to mention that he tried to film it, and that he whistled for its attention in an attempt to get a clear shot of its face. The camera he used wound up as a substitute chew toy after it slipped out of his hand mid-sprint. 

“I tried to hold the doors shut,” he ventured. “If you weren’t here, I—” Eddie’s gaze fell to the fire extinguisher in his hand. What a joke. “Yeah, I probably would’ve been the reason someone died tonight.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked at Bea again. “Thanks for not letting that happen.”

A noise of frustration left Bea’s nose as she turned back to the Hellhound in front of her. Nell had a soft spot for them, it would be wrong if she just called Kaden here to kill it. It was a monster that could kill people, but her littlest sister liked them. It would hurt her to know Bea killed it without an attempt at some humane solution. She wasn’t particularly sure how to be humane to a monster, but she would figure it out. 

“Are you new to this whole thing?” Bea asked tiredly. He had to be around Adam’s age, but he had none of the experience that had let Adam survive as long as he did from what she could see. Not that had done much in the end, had it? He was still gone. “Sometimes when you see something like this the best thing to do is give it space or call someone who is trained to take care of things like this.” The hunters she trusted in this town were struggling to survive or gone. 

Bea leaned against the back of the seats nearest her, her exhaustion hitting her all at once. “There won’t always be someone like me there. What will you do then?” How will you survive? 

Bea seemed to be at the end of her rope, and a sneaking suspicion told Eddie he wasn’t the sole cause of her weariness. He thought about Nell and the contagiousness of grief. All at once, he became less concerned with self-pity. Compared to the Vurals, he had it easy. Eddie wished he could share that with them instead of dragging Bea down with his inability to make good decisions. He kept saying he would start being better for the people around him, when did he plan on actually doing it?

“No, I’m not new to this,” he answered truthfully. Whatever he said to Bea had a chance to get back to Nell. Eddie couldn’t afford to lie to her even if the lie was easier to hear than the truth. “Tonight just sucked.” 

He considered her next question carefully. “I used to know.” Again, Eddie chose honesty. Until recently, he didn’t care what happened to him in situations like what happened tonight. Live or die, it didn’t matter. Part of him, and it was a big part, still felt that way, but now people cared about him. That made things murkier. “I guess I’d die if that happened.” Despite his inner turmoil, he sounded shockingly nonchalant. “I’m trying not to be okay with that.”

For a moment, Bea almost laughed. Waves of optimism had carried her afloat that last few days, but now she felt the current shifting beneath her feet. There were only so many times she would claim that things would get better. She was exhausting herself carrying everyone else’s hope on her back, but she had tried it the other way before. She had seen what it made her and she refused to go back to that. 

“You should know that you shouldn’t be doing stuff in this town alone, then.” Adam should have known, they should have forced him to take someone. Bea shook her head, trying to lose the ‘what if’ questions that did nothing but worsen her guilt. 

Bea’s eyes snapped toward him, her exhaustion shoved away by the fire that entered her. She pushed herself away from the chairs, taking a step toward him. “Death doesn’t just affect you,” She whispered fervently. “When you die, you change something in everyone around you. They will never get back to who they were.”

Bea had a point, Eddie realized that. White Crest sunk its teeth into anyone who dared underestimate how brutal it could be. Anyone except him, it seemed. For all his recklessness, he couldn’t get the town to live up to its reputation. Death didn’t want him back. “Yeah,” he quietly replied as his gaze fell to the floor. 

Nex thing he knew, Bea seemed more vibrant than before. As she moved closer, he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing. Eddie glanced at the hellhound’s shadow-made shackles before locking eyes with her. Bea’s warning shook him. The part about his death affecting more than just him sounded a lot like similar words of caution given to him by both Nell and Morgan. But the rest, no one had ever phrased it like that before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Eddie said firmly. “But I don’t wanna hurt either.” He knew how selfish he sounded. For years, he relied on that selfishness when no one else bothered to prioritize him. “And no one can seem to tell me how to manage both.” 

“Everyone thinks I’m perfectly content not caring whether I live or die, and I guess I can’t blame them. I even put on a good enough act to fool myself sometimes, but it’s bullshit.” His throat tightened as the truth poured out of him. “I hate feeling this way. All it does is make me miserable and piss everyone else off, which is kind of exhausting.” Eddie let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m bleeding out and everyone around me is yelling about how I’m staining the carpet.” He choked back the tears trying to form in his eyes. 

“No one can tell you, because you can’t.” Bea’s voice shook as she said it. There was no reason for her to lay things out for this man, yet here she was, because someone had to. “We hurt people, they hurt us, and we hurt ourselves.” She had been hurt by countless people, she had hurt countless people, and she had hurt herself. “It doesn’t make us bad people if we can learn from it.” She swallowed, “It makes us better if we learn how to forgive ourselves for the things we do.”

Bea closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a breath. That feeling he was talking about was something she understood well. “Sometimes people don’t know how to fix your bleeding, so they find something else to focus on. Blaming you isn’t fair, but it’s how they cope.” How many people have felt like this around here? How many people did she not see or help? “I think you might want to go to therapy, if you aren’t already,” She said with a shrug. “It can help. I go sometimes.” She went a lot in New York. She still went at least once a week, when the flashbacks were bad, she went twice. 

Nothing Bea said relieved Eddie of the ache in his chest, but he appreciated that she said it anyway. He was beginning to learn that, try as he might, he would never find a mystical cure for the pain of living. But, if he listened, he might learn how to cope with it. He forgave others easily, but turning that kindness inwards proved more difficult. “Does that… get easier with practice?” he asked.

For the past ten years, Eddie had been going to therapy. When Bea offered it as a suggestion, he nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it makes things a little easier.” But he couldn’t be completely honest with any of the professionals he’d seen, not about seeing ghosts or anything else related to the supernatural. It felt like wearing a muzzle. When they asked about his YouTube channel, he told them it was purely for entertainment. They were always impressed by the special effects.

“Anyway,” he said, forcing himself to shift gears. “Didn’t mean to, like, trauma dump or whatever” He never did, but it was becoming harder to keep it to himself. “Is there… anything I can do to help out around here? With the mess, I mean.”

“Yeah, it does.” Bea wished there was a way to prepare people for the life that White Crest was leading them down, but there wasn’t. All you could do was tell people the truth and pick them back up when they fell. “It’s like any skill though, we all mess up eventually and you’re going to kick yourself for it. Sometimes things are going to happen and you won’t even be able to remember how to do it, but it’ll come back. It always does.” 

There was a part of Bea who knew she shouldn’t be allowing herself to take someone else on, but here she was pulling someone else’s hope onto her back. Someone had to keep it safe and until they were able to, she would nurture it and treat it as though it was her own. Maybe this was her fatal flaw, the thing that would put her in the ground permanently, but until it proved as dangerous as it felt, she would flirt with it.

“Yep,” Bea grinned at him, nodding at the storage closet. “Go grab a broom. I’m going to call my sister to figure out what to do with this beastie and then I’m going to call my crew to help.” She went to walk away before pausing and looking over her shoulder, “Some days there will be too much to keep in, find people who can handle you at your worst and learn to help them too. Those people will always be with you, as long as you love them as much as they love you.”

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Skyward

Ao3

Chapter 8: Uravium

“Katsuki! I can see the bottom now!” 

The bottom of the long, dark mine shaft slowly yawned up to meet them, blue-black earth shining with the pink light still swirling around their bodies and emanating from Ochako’s pendant. The humming sound began to dim, and Ochako gasped as gravity regained its control of her body. She began to straighten out in the air, her feet coming down towards the floor. The two of them landed with no more than mere scuffs on the rocky bottom, and Ochako exclaimed in fright when the light from her crystal began to retract into the gem and fade. 

“Don’t worry, Cheeks.” Katsuki smiled while he crouched down, flipping open the flap of his bag to look around in it. He procured a small lantern and a set of matches, swiftly plucking one out to strike it on the coarse side of the box. “Just a little more,” he grunted as the faint light petered out, but just as it did, there was a spark and then a little orange flame bloomed in the blackness. It threw orange light over the lines of his face as he leaned down to light the lamp; the oil greedily caught the fire, igniting the wick and sending a puddle of soft light splaying out around them. “There,” Katsuki smirked in satisfaction, then picked up the lantern and stood up. 

“We’re a long way down,” Ochako observed when she cast her gaze upward. The sky was but a circle of blue far above their heads, partially blocked by the half-decayed scaffolding jutting out into the mine shaft. 

“Yep,” Katsuki said, “we sure won’t be getting out that way—but it also means it’ll be hard as hell for those pirates or that Tomura bastard to follow us.” 

Ochako released a relieved sigh, but still shuddered at the image of Tomura’s cold, piercing eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, quaking from the entire experience, and Katsuki looked at her. 

“Oh, Cheeks, are you cold?” Before she could refuse, he had plopped down the lantern and was shrugging out of his vest. “It doesn't have sleeves, but—” he said while he stepped behind her so he could drape it over her shoulders, “it should keep you a little warmer.” Ochako was warmer indeed, especially her face, which was shining nearly as pink as her necklace had been. She was thankful for the orange hue of the lantern light, as it hid her blush. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of Katsuki’s vest with a shy mumble of gratitude, while he just nodded and picked up the lantern to shine it around. 

“Well, we can’t stay in these mine shafts forever,” he grunted. “We have to find a way out, and hopefully that’ll put enough distance between us and them that we can finally get you somewhere safe, Cheeks.” He started walking, and Ochako followed; for a while, the only sound in the empty mines were their footsteps. She could tell something was eating at him, though. His jaw was set and his eyes burned in contemplation, but she couldn’t tell whatever in the world he was thinking. Just as he was about to ask, he looked at her and said, “Cheeks, I want you to tell me everything about that necklace of yours.” 

“My necklace?” she blinked and reflexively reached up to clutch it in her hand. 

“Yeah,” he affirmed with a nod. “I don’t really care much about the pirates, but we really need to know why Tomura and the military are after it. It’s clear they want the power of your necklace, but what do they have to gain from it? Clearly, it only activates for you.” 

Ochako looked down, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She didn’t know why Tomura and the military wanted her pendant, but Katsuki was smart—maybe he could see the reason that she had failed to find. 

“Well… It’s a family heirloom,” she began, looking down at the crystal in her hand. She ran her fingers over his curved sides as she spoke. “My family has lived in the mountains far to the north of here for generations, and so has this necklace been passed down, from mother to daughter. Honestly, I never usually saw it except for during special occasions like weddings. We kept it in a hidden compartment behind the fireplace which was covered by a wood carving of our family crest. We were just a simple farming and livestock family,” she said, looking up wistfully. “We were very happy until my mother and father both caught a very grievous illness a few months ago…” Her eyes flooded with tears then, and she reached up with her free hand to wipe them away with the back of her hand. “I’m just like you… I wasn’t allowed in the house because it was so deadly. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” 

“I’m sorry, Cheeks,” Katsuki murmured, stepping a little closer to her. He allowed her to lean her head on his shoulder as they walked. It was warm, both with his body heat and the soft firelight of the lamp, and that did make her feel a little bit better. They were in this together.

“I moved back into the house after the doctors had removed all the illness from it. I wanted to be close to my parents, so I took out the necklace and started wearing it. I didn’t know that it would turn out to be such an important thing,” she sighed, looking back down at the unassuming pendant. She wondered now what her family really was, what the meaning was behind the family crest etched in gold on the pendant’s surface. “A month after my parents died, Tomura and his men came to the farm. They didn’t tell me anything. They just told me I had to come with them. They had guns… I was so scared.” 

“Bastard, threatening a girl like that,” Katsuki growled under his breath. He slipped his arm around Ochako’s waist in a comforting gesture, sensing how talking about Tomura made her upset. Ochako nodded forlornly, still sweeping tears from her face. 

“We were on our way to a military base, he said,” Ochako continued. “We were taking a dirigible. The pirates attacked, and while I was trying to escape, I fell from the airship… And that’s how I ended up in your mining town.” 

“Hmm,” Katsuki hummed, twitching his nose as he ruminated on the strange, puzzling situation. “Sounds to me like Tomura knows more about your crystal and your family than we do. Izuku Midoriya’s gang is notorious for intercepting military transponders, so he probably learned about it that way, so now we have to deal with both of them.” Sighing, he looked back at Ochako with a small smile. “Ah, don’t look at me like that,” he said as she pouted uncertainly. “We’re gonna get through this, Cheeks. Luck has been on our side so far.” 

She wanted to feel better at his reassurances. She really did. But she just couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would run out. 

“Hello,” Katsuki said suddenly, raising the lantern as he looked ahead. Ochako followed his gaze to see that the mining tunnel had widened out into a large room. Wooden boxes, tables, and dusty equipment littered the cleared space—a base camp of some sort? They walked into the room to a table, where musty old papers still littered the desk. Katsuki picked one up, then gasped. “These are research papers about Uravity!” 

“What?” Sure enough, hypotheses about Uravity were written out in neat script on the paper. Katsuki brought the crinkly, stained paper close to his face, struggling to read the faded text. He set the lantern down inadvertently on the edge of the table. They both gasped as the lantern slipped right off. It crashed to the floor, and though it thankfully didn’t shatter, the fire sputtered out. 

Immediately, the room was bathed in a bright pink glow. 

“What the hell?” Katsuki breathed, turning slowly in a circle to look around. Embedded in the walls and the ceiling were glowing pink stones. Ochako breathed out in wonder, eyes reflecting the beautiful sheen of the pink gems— and then she realized that it seemed awfully familiar. She hastily yanked her necklace back out from underneath her dress and found that it too was glowing in the darkness. 

“Katsuki, look!” 

“What the hell is going on here?” he whispered while he peered down at her necklace. He snatched up the document again and used the soft light from the crystals to resume reading it. After scanning the paragraphs for a minute, he exhaled in awe, “Uravium.”

“What?” 

“These crystals,” he said with a gesture around the room and then pointed to her necklace. “And yours, too. They’re all uravium, and uravium is the gem they mined to make Uravity float in the sky.” 

“What? My crystal is related to Uravity?” she cried in shock. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her crystal was something so important! 

Katsuki looked back down at the old document with a frown. “Yeah. I can’t read most of the rest, but apparently, they discovered this old uravium mine fifty some-odd years ago. But the technology to use uravium has been lost, so the miners turned it over to researchers to see if they could find out more. Apparently, all they were able to really figure out is that the uravium becomes more active when Uravity is floating over the mine.” 

“So that means Uravity is somewhere above us right now!” Ochako realized, and Katsuki nodded. 

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Katsuki huffed and set the paper down on the table. “If your necklace is an uravium crystal, then it could hold the key to finally finding Uravity. Uravity was said to be a major power when it was in its prime. There’s no telling the treasure or weapons still on it. If the military got ahold of it…” 

“That would be disastrous,” Ochako finished gravely. She wrapped her hands around her crystal, smothering the light as if she could hide it from Tomura that way. “But why my family? Why me?”

“I don’t know, Cheeks,” Katsuki sighed and crouched down so he could re-light the fallen lantern. “I don’t think we’ll get the answer to that anytime soon. The only thing that I do know is that we absolutely can’t let a guy like Tomura get his hands on the crystal.” When the lantern flared up, the pink lights were snuffed out, and Ochako unwrapped her hands from her crystal to find it inert once more. Feeling a little nauseous, she tucked it back underneath the collar of her chest. However, she could still feel its weight against her chest, and she could almost imagine it throbbing with that secret power. 

Seeing the worry on her face, Katsuki smiled and reached up to lay his hand on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, appreciating the way his calloused, work-roughened hands felt on her skin. 

“Don’tchu worry about a thing, Cheeks. There ain’t no way in hell I’m gonna let Tomura or those bastard pirates get their hands on ya.” 

“I know.” Ochako smiled. There were a lot of uncertainties in her life right now, but thankfully, she had one thing that was certain—she could count on Katsuki no matter what. That was enough for her to keep pushing forward, no matter how scary things might become. Together, they would discover the secrets of her necklace, of her family, and of Uravity.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[k7l4d4]

Kamen Rider Info and Ideas (Feel free to ignore)

As a huge fan of Kamen Rider, I always wondered about ways it could be expanded, and maybe not improved so much as become More. So, right now, I am gonna make a list of Kamen Rider Series, starting with Black and RX, and continuing all the way to the Reiwa Era! Everybody clap your hands!! *Cricket noises* Okay, here we go!

Kamen Rider Black, and its sequel, Black RX, details the journey of Kohtaro Minami, or Minami Kohtaro for those who prefer the traditional Japanese naming conventions, on his mission to defeat Gorgom, an ancient tribe/organization that has evolved into a cultic terrorist organization bent on world domination. While still holding to the Showa era’s tradition of having Cyborg Riders, Black and RX were the first in which, aside from Kamen Rider Amazon, the supernatural played a prominent part in the powers of the riders, as Kohtaro and his stepbrother Nobuhiko were the designated heirs to the leader of Gorgom, the Century King, and infused with the relics that contained his power, the Kingstones. Both Kohtaro and Nobuhiko were infused with the Kingstones, in the attempt to convert them into the Villains Black Sun and Shadow Moon, with only Kohtaro managing to escape.

One of the things that I felt could’ve been at least a little better in regards to the series was if Shadow Moon could regain his original self and rejoin the path of justice. It would’ve also been pretty cool if Shadow Moon gained his own upgraded form, which did actually happen in tie-in novels and manga, and if either or both of them gained the ability to unleash a final form that drew upon the power they wielded as the New Century Kings. Ah well, that’s what fanfiction is for!

Kamen Rider Kuuga details the battles of Yusuke Godai, the successor to the ancient warrior of justice, Riku, as the Kuuga. Kuuga’s powers are derived from Growth, allowing him to access a variety of forms and powers based on what he needs to grow into, and can be bolstered by mystical energy sources to ascend even further! Yusuke’s enemies are the Gurongi tribe, ancient monsters who abandoned their humanity to satisfy their love of death and conflict, and wished to have all of humanity become as dark and twisted as them, with the “honor” of being the Gurongi to start the process going to whichever of them managed to win their tournament, in which the Gurongi Tribal-members all battled to the death as a whole.

One of the things that bugged me a little, was that Kuuga never fully evolved all his forms, and that his true final form was even used in his series! I mean, seriously, what!? Once again, budget concerns limit the awesomeness of a series before it can bloom, sigh.

Kamen Rider Agito is the story of Shoichi Tsugami, a young amnesiac who belongs to an offshoot of the human race known as the Agito. Agitos possess incredible psychic powers and exist in a perpetual state of evolution, adapting to the changes in themselves and the world around them at an incredible rate.

My only real beef with this series was the limited number of forms Agito had as compared to Kuuga, and that one of the Extra Riders had the lazy name of Another Agito. You heard me right. All in all, not to bad, but a little frustrating.

Next up, Kamen Rider Ryuki, which also served as part of the inspiration for the list. Honestly, with how much I plan on covering JUST for Ryuki, I’ll probably leave this off after this and pick up more tomorrow. Ryuki is one of the first series in the franchise to fully exploit the nature of multiple riders, and basically invented the concept of Dark Riders, which I will also explain.

Ryuki involves the Rider War, a conflict taking place in the real world, and a parallel realm known as the Mirror World, populated by unfeeling monsters known as, you guessed it, Mirror Monsters, which must constantly kill when in our world in order to remain stable, or at least they are allegedly supposed to. The Rider War was a conflict set up by a man known as Shiro to revive his dead sister, under the guise of a tournament to the death for a reality-warping wish, which Shiro wanted for himself. The war brought together 13, yes you read that right, 13 Riders, all with variances in their styles and abilities. This selfish conflict is partially, if not entirely why I said that introduced Dark Riders properly to the franchise; Dark Riders are individuals who bear the same transformative powers of Kamen Riders, but instead of using them to fight against the wicked and monstrous, are instead put towards their own selfish ends, and none of them are the type of individual you wanna run into in a dark alley.

The Riders of Ryuki derived their power from two things, their Contract Monster, a Mirror Monster that they formed a bond with in order to exist without needing to bring about death, and an Advent Deck, a Deck of Cards that harnessed the power of the Mirror Monster it bonded to and allowed the Riders to survive in the Mirror Realm, which is inherently fatal for humans to be in. One of the key aspects of Advent Cards is how they work, each one draws and harnesses an aspect of the Contract Monster it is connected to, or wields a power specifically to fight other Advent Riders. Now, before I get to my thoughts and ideas, I am going to list each Rider from Ryuki, as well as the nature of their Advent Decks and fighting styles.

Shinji Kido: Kamen Rider Ryuki himself, and contracted to the fierce Dragon-Type Mirror Monster, Dragonredder. With a Dragon on his side, you’d expect him to be the powerhouse of the group, right? HAHAHAHAHA no. Shinji stumbled upon the Rider War by near-complete accident, and, being the nice guy he is, decided if he was going to be a part, he would protect the bystanders from the conflict and ensure as many of the Riders made it out alive as he could. Easier said than done. Out of all the Riders, Ryuki has the least straight-forward fighting style, not helped by his incredible clumsiness, with his deck emphasizing the ability to have as many options as possible; jack of all trades master of none, but better master of none than master of one.

Ren Akiyama: Kamen Rider Knight, and the contract holder of the Bat-Type Mirror Monster, Darkwing. He comes across as aloof, cold even, whose only in it for himself, but in truth he decided to enter the war to save the life of his ill fiance. Knight’s fighting style blends straight-up direct combat, and subterfuge based war tactics, with his deck emphasizing this by providing him with both weapons and special abilities that optimize getting the drop on his foes. Hmm... themed after a bat, a knight, and mixing close combat with dark and spooky tactics. Now where have I seen THAT before?

Masashi Shido: Kamen Rider Scissors, a Dark Rider, and the contractor of the Crab-Type Mirror Monster, Volcancer. A corrupt cop and detective, Scissors took bribes and cuts in illegal dealings, and used his Mirror Monster to liberally dispose of witnesses as he pleased. He ultimately died when his contract was destroyed and Volcancer turned on him. Despite his practices necessitating subterfuge, Scissors’ fighting style is rather extravagant, emulating that of a gladiator, with his deck providing cards that mix heavy combat with putting his enemy into an unfavorable situation to seal the deal, fitting for a backstabber.

Shuichi Kitaoka: Kamen Rider Zolga, one of the neutral and later heroic elements in the war, and the bearer of the contract for the Minotaur-Type Mirror Monster, Magnugigas, a colossal bio-mechanical behemoth. A shady lawyer with a lot of wealth, Zolga was diagnosed with fatal cancer, and desired to become immortal to continue living his lifestyle forever. While initially uncaring and selfish, he ultimately came to see the value in others, and lamented all the criminals that walked free due to his actions, hoping Ryuki would win. Cunning, intellegent, and crafty, Zolga’s fighting style favors both heavy defense and massive firepower, burying an enemy in a storm of blasts while he hunkers down, with his deck further emphasizing this with a bevy of long-distance combat cards and barriers.

Miyuki Tezuka: Kamen Rider Raia, a fortune-teller beyond compare, he enters the war to save lives and honor his deceased friend, and bears the contract of the Stingray-Type Mirror Monster, Evildiver. Raia’s fighting style places heavy importance on movement, offering cards that can offer him superior movement, and uses a whip as his principle weapon.

Jun Shibaura: Kamen Rider Gai, an utterly selfish and monstrous beast of a man, he wields the contract of the Rhino-Type Mirror Monster, Metalgelas. A prodigy of computers and gaming, Gai sees the death match that is the Rider War as nothing more than a game, and the fighters as players he can wipe out at his leisure. Gai’s fighting style is a straight up rush of overwhelming force, with his cards emphasizing interfering with his opponent’s options to force them to fight him directly and his brutal power of himself and his Contract Monster gives him an edge.

Takeshi Asakura: Kamen Rider Ouja, and the main Dark Rider of the series, holder of the contract for the Snake-Type Mirror Monster, Venosnaker. A sadistic monster to his core, Takeshi killed his own family as a child, and left a bloody trail in his wake for years, remorselessly cutting down anyone who falls in his path in his bloodlust. Despite his seemingly simple minded nature, Ouja is immensely cunning, favoring a sadistic fighting style that emphasizes causing as much pain to his enemy as he can before they die at his hands, and he is far from afraid to get his hands dirty. Ironically, Ouja has one of the weaker decks in the war, bearing limited options to fight with, Ouja thrives due to his sheer brutality, fighting ability, and utter ruthlessness. “Fun” fact, unlike the other Riders, Takeshi never realized that a wish was up for grabs, he was just having a good time! When he finally learned that the winner got a wish, he decided his wish would be to have ANOTHER Rider War, so he could kill another pack of warriors! Ouja’s deck does have two solid advantages over the other riders; Ouja possesses extra Contract Cards, meaning he can add other Mirror Monsters and their powers to his deck, ultimately deciding to save them to take the Mirror Monsters of the Riders he kills, with his other big trick his Unite Card, which allowed him to COMBINE his Mirror Monsters into the horrifying Chimera-Type Mirror Monster, Genocider (ain’t that a name).

Odin: Kamen Rider Odin, a Rider not designated Dark only due to the fact he doesn’t have enough of a mind to be one, and wielder of the Phoenix-Type Mirror Monster as his Contract, Goldphoenix. Odin is unusual, in that he is essentially a puppet, a brainwashed shell that acts as Shiro’s representative in the war that occupies whatever body Shiro gives the Contract to. Out of all the Riders, Odin has the greatest immediate strength, allowing him to overwhelm just about anything in ideal situations, and if things go wrong, Odin (along with Shiro) can REWIND TIME to reset the war until Shiro gets the outcome he wants, only giving up when he accepts that he won’t be able to bring his sister back.

Satoru Tojo: Kamen Rider Tiger, a man who wants to be a hero, and wields the power of the Tiger-Type Mirror Monster, Destwilder. Tiger is a broken individual, lacking a LOT of basic understanding in regards to people, he wavers between good and evil in his desire to be a hero due to his incomprehension of what it means to be heroic, ultimately becoming a hero when he selflessly sacrificed his life to save a father and son about to be hit by an oncoming truck, finally realizing what it truly meant to be a human in his last moments. A highly inexperienced fighter, Tiger often lost, which didn’t help his instability, forcing himself to rely on ambushes to win, his deck favored close-range melee and offered him support in the form of ice attacks.

Mitsuru Sano: Kamen Rider Imperer, a self-styled mercenary rider, and wielder of the multi-type contract allowing him to command the power of the Gazelle-Type Mirror Monsters, with Gigazelle serving as the leader of his horde. Imperer was raised to believe that wealth was what was most important in life, completely missing the fact that his idea to be a mercenary in the Rider War was impossible as all but one of the contestants must die for it to complete and you cannot quit either. After falling in love, Mitsuru seemed to be realizing that there is more to life than money, he tragically died before he could act on his new views, trapped in the Mirror World, reaching out to the image of his love, screaming in fear. Imperer’s fighting style makes use of boxing, and bum-rushing his enemies with his massive swarm of Contract Monsters.

And, because I am starting to grow tired and this is REALLY LONG, I am gonna finish this later today before I burn out.

[teamhook]

CSSNS20 :|: The Wolf and The Savior

Hello, everyone! Well, I want to apologize for not posting on time. I was diagnosed with Pneumonia and Covid19 so I had to take my time to get better. I was on lock down for six weeks. I’m truly sorry I missed my deadline but here I am now. Thank you for your patience.

I want to thank the Mods @cssns , my lovely Artist @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 , my Beta @ultraluckycatnd

~I truly love the fandom...

AO3

FFN

 Summary: Loosely inspired by an episode of Lost Girl...

 When danger looms over Emma Swan, Killian Jones offers to give up a major part of himself in exchange for her safety, but the Norn has different ideas for their deal and he may have to relinquish more than he’d planned. What is the Norn scheming, and what consequences will Killian face for the decisions he makes?

The Wolf and the Savior

 Once upon a time, the realms lived in harmony. The peace came to an abrupt end once the Darkness found a vessel. That Darkness spread corrupting Fae and humans alike like a plague. Some ran to different realms, but in the end, there was no place to hide. The Darkness consumed them all, and only one realm remained. In order to control the shared evil foe, they became the Light and the Dark to keep a balance. Every Fae had to choose a faction. Families were torn apart by the choice. Each region had an assigned ruler. Peace was never meant to last. Multiple Kingdoms fell as the Darkness sparked a long war that led to many deaths on all sides.  

Unbeknownst to the Jones brothers, their King was a selfish coward with an unquenchable thirst for power. 

Killian Jones, alongside his older brother Liam, served the corrupt King Robert Fitzroy who was a recent widower. His wife had fallen ill during her pregnancy, and both she and the child died during childbirth. The King had been looking for a new Queen but none had captured his interest until he met Captain Liam Jones's vibrant wife, Belle.

The Jones brothers were sent on a mission to obtain a weapon that would help them win the war that was currently waging. The King took that time to endear himself to the lovely woman. He was smitten quickly by how well-read she was, and she surprised him by also turning out to be an amazing strategist. 

The mission failed and turned out to be a death sentence for the elder Jones. They had been ambushed and Liam had suffered a deadly wound made by silver nitrate as it spread throughout his body. In an attempt to save his brother’s life, Killian Jones went to go see the Norn. 

The Norn’s deal was simple. She wanted what Killian held dearest: his wolf. The ability to transform into a wolf was the best part of himself. To be able to run wild was an exceptional experience. The choice was simple. Killian’s wolf in exchange for his brother’s life. Killian was unable to go through with it. His wolf was a vital part of his identity. Without his wolf, who was he? 

Unfortunately, Liam wasn’t lucky and died. Not long after his death, the King’s betrayal was revealed. Without a second thought, Killian Jones turned against the crown. He would no longer serve a wicked King. His beloved brother was gone, and with him, the yearning for being a man of honor died too. For centuries he lived a life full of debauchery and revenge against the King and his new bride. His guilt over the selfishness of keeping his wolf haunted him long after he had avenged his brother. With the King dead, his new Queen had taken the throne. She was a righteous ruler and had tried to reach out to Killian to explain that she had only agreed to marry the King in exchange for his and Liam’s safety, not knowing it was a trick. 

After a long time after the Great War had passed, there was a truce between the Fae and the humans. They worked together to stop their common enemy, the Dark. They had to ensure the scale was never tipped in the Dark’s favor because allowing it to consume too much could lead to another war.

After decades of tranquility, an evil witch wanted the crown. 

On an evening he was brooding over a bottle of rum, he was approached by a man hidden by his cloak. “Killian Jones?”

“Aye, what of it?”

“I have a proposition for you,” the man answered with a smile. 

The newly crowned Fae Queen had married a lowly human and soon they were to become parents. Sadly the very existence of the witch threatened the safety of the unborn Princess. It was decided that she would be hidden with the humans. A trusted friend would take her upon birth to keep her safe since it was foretold she would be the Savior of the Light and the end of the Darkness. On the day of the birth of the beloved princess, the witch cast a spell to stop time and take their memories, then she would have all the power. In order to save their newborn daughter, who was prophesied to save them all, they sent her through a magical portal to safety. 

Emma Swan grew up loved and adored by her adoptive mother Sarah. The years passed by and the woman became afraid of losing her daughter; Sarah refused to tell Emma the truth of her parentage. She was supposed to prepare her for the future but instead decided to keep Emma as her daughter. 

Young Emma sensed that Sarah was keeping her in the dark for a selfish reason, and in her frustrated state, she took off on her own. If Emma were being honest with herself, she had always felt like something was missing. She wasn’t running away, she was running towards something.

At barely seventeen years, she found herself out on the streets. She gained employment in a small dive diner. The glimmering green-eyed golden-haired beauty captivated everyone she met. 

She was befriended by a man about five years her senior. In a moment of vulnerability, Emma allowed herself to be comforted by the man. She felt so alone. He decided that friendship was not all that he wanted from her and attempted to take by force what was not offered freely. 

Although she was afraid, Emma was not willing to be taken advantage of without a fight. In an effort to survive as the man groped and touched her as if she was his to do with whatever he wanted, she felt a surge of power as a white light submerged the room and the man collapsed to the floor.

Emma Swan ran once again afraid~~ she was a runaway ~ lost girl ~ waitress ~ a murderer. 

Days before her twenty-eighth birthday, Emma Swan stumbled on to a small unheard of town. Storybrooke, Maine. She never heard of it but somehow she felt a pull to it. 

All her life she had run in search of something that was missing; she didn't know that the truth was that she was seeking for her family. Their motto being, I will always find you.

She meets and bonds with the town school teacher and the town’s dog catcher from the local animal shelter. The brave Deputy becomes a fast friend as well. The Sheriff is a stickler for the rules and that was more difficult to break through. 

It doesn’t take long for the curse to be broken. Emma Swan falls in love with Deputy Jones. A true love’s kiss reveals the truth. Soon, other enemies make their way to the town. 

The teacher, Mary Margaret, is her mother, and the animal control officer is her father, David Nolan. 

The dashing Deputy is Killian Jones, ex-Navy Captain, and former scoundrel, and he is the man her heart chose. 

As a family, they had quickly overcome so much to be together, and now the final battle was fast approaching.

The problem was the Savior was still weak from the previous battle.

They had survived a curse cast by an Evil Queen, a vengeful Dragon, a crazed former ally, and time travel.

Emma had found her family after being a lost girl. She had found true love too in an unlikely place, a redeemed villain. Some days it was surreal she was the daughter of a Queen. No, the Rioga. There were no more monarchs.  

As a last resort to save the woman he loves, Killian goes to the Norn for help. He offers a deal, his wolf in exchange for her to transfer his strength to Emma, but instead, she takes his love passion - the love for his mate - as payment.

 At the last battle, Emma feels a sudden rush of power that has her overwhelming her foe, the Black Fairy. 

The Fairy shrieks as the light magic consumes her and she is absorbed by it. 

After the dust settles, Emma is embraced by her parents and she looks around trying to find her anchor, her love, but he was nowhere in sight. Where was he? 

Killian leaves the Norn, shifts into a wolf, and runs. His animal takes over as he whimpers for the loss of his love passion. His black fur coat shined as he galloped across the forest. His blue eyes were a dark storm. He found a spot overlooking the ocean and howled. Right now, Killian didn’t know what could have been worse, losing his wolf or the love for his mate. How could he ever face her? 

The Norn laughed as she put away the vial that held Killian’s love passion. She found the wolf fascinating, and he was beautiful. Part of her wished it was hers. His love. Technically it was hers now. She smiled wickedly. 

Killian decides to visit an old friend. He needs to make sense of his life. 

He knows he is being a coward, but how is he going to face Emma? Look into her eyes knowing that his heart won’t speed up at her touch. That he will feel nothing. If he is lucky, he will still hold a fondness for her, but nothing romantic. No spark. 

Killian called Graham to let him know he was taking some time off. In reality, he hopes he can figure something out before coming face to face with Emma. 

Graham agrees hesitantly after urging him to talk to Emma but he cannot deny him; he has all the time accrued. 

Emma has been looking for Killian, calling him non stop. Voicemail has become her new enemy. She knows it’s because of him she is still alive, the surge of strength that went through her when she defeated the fairy was proof of that.  

She freezes as she is going through his room looking for clues. He had told her about a Fae he had visited years ago in hopes to save his brother. Maybe he went back but this time it was to save her. 

Emma runs out of his place and goes to ask her parents if they know of this Fae.

Once Emma reaches her parents’ home, she bursts in. “Mom, Dad!!” she yells for them.

“Emma, what’s going on?” Her father reaches her first.

“I think Killian went to go see that Fae, the one that does deals? I think he traded his wolf for me. To save me.”

“Wait, Emma calm down.”

She was walking back and forth. “Dad, I can’t find him anywhere and during my fight with the fairy I felt a rush of strength and I was able to beat her. Dad, it was something I hadn’t felt before. It was raw and powerful.” 

Her father tilts his head and smiles, “He does adore you. I’m afraid your mother might know. I don’t know all the kinds of Fae that exist. Let me go get her. Just stay here, and sweetie, please calm down.” 

Emma continues pacing the room. 

Her father comes back with her mother in tow. “Emma, sweetie, your dad says you can’t find Killian? I didn’t know he was missing.”

“Mom, it’s a feeling I have. I think he is in trouble. I haven’t seen him since before the battle with the Black Fairy. He was supposed to meet me there but never showed. I was telling Dad that during my final battle with her, I felt a surge of energy and it felt like him. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Your father mentioned you had questions about a Fae that grants deals...”

Emma sits down and her foot keeps tapping the floor rhythmically. Her parents follow suit and sit across from her. “Killian told me once that he could have saved his brother but that he was a coward. He couldn’t go through with it.” Emma sighs, “He felt guilty for so long, and that was the reason he went after the King.”

“And you think he did this for you?” her mother asks.

Emma sniffles, “I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it, for a moment. I thought the Black Fairy was going to win, but then I felt his presence. I felt his love and strength around me, and then I was able to destroy her.”

“Okay, I know there’s a Fae called Norn. She trades for favors. Emma, if Killian went to her, I don’t know what to say. She tricks and takes what’s dearest to you. Sometimes the price outweighs the benefit.”

“Where can I find this Norn?” Emma stood up, determined. 

“Emma, she’s not someone you can deal with. She is a dark Fae.”

“How could Killian go to her then?”

“The rules are simple, dark Fae deal with each other only in the case a light Fae wants to talk to or has a problem with a dark Fae. There’s a protocol that needs to be followed. Killian is a deputy, he deals with both dark and light Fae to do his job.”

“Mom, why can’t I? I’m the stupid Savior. I don’t understand.”

“Emma, we need balance. If the balance is lost, we end up fighting battles with Black Fairies because of that imbalance.”

Emma yells, “Then what’s the point of being the Savior if I can’t help the man I love?” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. 

Her father is the one that tries to soothe her, “Emma, Killian is a survivor and he will be fine. He might need time alone. Just wait until you hear from him. He wouldn’t want you to react before you know what exactly you’re up against.”

What her parents had failed to tell her was that since she was half-human, the Norn wouldn’t see her. 

Emma leaves her parents’ home in a huff and decides on a new tactic. Ruby is a wolf too, so she is going to have her confirm Killian’s presence at the Norn’s. 

With a smile on her face, Emma enters Granny’s Diner. Ruby smiles back at her, but the closer Emma gets to her, the more Ruby's smile shrinks. 

“Hey, Ems. The usual?” Ruby busies herself getting a cup ready.

“Rubes, I need a favor and you cannot tell anyone.”

Ruby sighs, “I don’t know how to feel about this. What favor?” 

“I need you to take me to the Norn.”

“Emma, the Norn is not someone you can just see.” 

“Why not?” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Look, she is one of the oldest Faes and she is not a fan of humans. Not only that but she's a dark Fae. Whatever the issue is, she is not the answer.”

“I think Killian went to see her. I haven’t seen him since the battle with the Black Fairy. Ruby, his phone is off. Killian told me that, a long time ago, he went to make a deal with her. He was going to give his wolf to her in exchange for Liam’s life. At the last minute he changed his mind and Liam died. Killian has hated himself for that decision.”

“Emma, trading your wolf is not something one can do lightly. Our wolf is part of us. Imagine if someone took your hand.” Ruby made a pained face. “If he did that, he will never be the same. Emma, he will not be able to run free. His wolf will be gone. He is going to need time,” Ruby whispered. 

Emma’s eyes water, “Is he going to hate me?”

“Killian could never hate you. He loves you. You two share True Love.” 

“I just know something is wrong,” Emma said as she stared her friend down.

“Okay, I’ll take you, but you’re going to have to let me take the lead,” Ruby hissed.

 “Fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. When can we do this?”

“She lives in the woods, just passing the toll bridge. We can go early tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Ruby, can’t we go today? Killian has been missing for almost a week.” 

“Fine, but if anyone asks, we are just going to have some drinks. We are lucky Granny is out with Marco ’cause if she heard any of this conversation she would have my hide.” Ruby shutters. 

“Drinks to take my mind off my missing boyfriend.” 

“I’ll meet you at your place right after my shift ends.” Ruby nods at her friend. 

Emma and Ruby arrive at the toll bridge. “We need to walk the rest of the way,” Ruby says.

Emma simply nods.

“Ems, the Norn likes to trick, and she loves deals. Just let me talk.”

“Okay. Ruby—” Emma hesitates.

“What is it?”

“You're a wolf, right?”

“Yes…” Ruby rolls her eyes.

“Uhm, do you know Killian’s scent?”

Ruby stops and turns to her friend. “I’m familiar but not in the same way you are familiar with it.” Ruby waggles her eyebrows.

“I mean, you say the Norn likes to trick. Could you tell if Killian was there? I mean could you smell if he was there?” Emma takes a baggie from her back pocket. 

Ruby thinks about it, “Yeah, I should be able to. His scent might be a little faded, but I should be able to make it out.”

Emma smiles, “So you won’t need this?” She pulls out a black scarf from the baggie. 

Ruby grabs the scarf and smells it. Her eyes turn to her friend. “I know you are worried about him, but Killian is a survivor. He knows what he is doing. I can’t say I agree with his decision, but I understand why he would sacrifice half of his being for you. Emma, that man adores you and if something happened to you, it would destroy him.” 

The trek is faster than they thought it would be. 

They reach a big tree trunk. Emma looks around and turns to Ruby, “I thought you said you knew where she lived!” 

Ruby shushes her and knocks on the tree trunk. The trunk transforms into a door and creaks open.  

They enter hesitantly. 

An older woman appears out of thin air. Emma curses, I should be used to this by now.

The woman glares at her, “Human, how dare you enter the Norn’s home?”

Ruby clears her throat. “She’s here with me.” 

The Norn’s attention turns to Ruby and studies her. “Anita’s daughter, granddaughter of Granny Lucas. One dark, one light. What sacrifice do you have for me?”

Ruby’s eyes turn golden at the mention of her mother. 

Emma speaks, “She only has some questions for you.”

The Norn hisses at her.

Emma stands her ground. “Look, lady, we only have a few questions for you.”

“I don’t answer questions to humans, but I’m willing to excuse your behavior in exchange for a single hair.” She was human but there was strong magic around her too and yes, a hint of familiar energy. 

“You can have a single hair if you answer my friend’s questions.” Emma ignored Ruby’s growl. 

“I sense these questions aren’t hers to ask, you are the one who needs them answered. One question.” The Norn held out her hand. 

Emma plucked a hair out and handed it to her. 

The Norn examined the hair and put it in a small vial, “I’m waiting.”

Ruby is looking around trying to catch a scent but there’s nothing

Emma looks at Ruby for confirmation. The other shakes her head. “I want to know if—” she sighs as her eyes drift back to Ruby.

The Norn snarls, “Sorry, no cheating, you and your pretty friend forfeit the deal.”  

Ruby and Emma are thrown out. They land on their asses. 

“Shit,” Emma mutters.

Ruby groans, “Ow, that bitch just reeks darkness but no Jones scent. I’m sorry, Ems.”

“Could she mask the scent somehow?”

“I suppose if she wanted to keep her clientele secret.” 

“I know he was here,” Emma states. “When you love someone you just know.”

“So what now?” Ruby asks. 

“Now I track myself a wolf,” Emma says.

~~~

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg​ @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @kymbersmith-90​ @artistic-writer​ @laschatzi​ @lassluna​

[ink-asunder]

The Heartless DLC - The Rest of the Story

I’ve given a lot of thought to this, but I’ve decided to drop my Dragon Age: Inquisition/Dragon’s Dogma crossover fic, The Heartless DLC. I’m not out of ideas, but it turns out retelling the entire last 2/3rds of the game WITH original quests was too much of an undertaking for me. That combined with my surprising distaste with elements of Dragon Age and issues with the fandom just made it a project that I have no interest in continuing at this time.

It’s not fair to keep my readers in the dark, even if I *do* plan to get back to it someday. So I’m going to give a heavily abridged but general summary of how The Heartless DLC would’ve continued and ended right here, just so you get the full story instead of me leaving you hanging. It’s also a fairly long post!

After the events at Adamant, the Inquisitor and Arisen ltake care of some side-quests, favor quests, and cleaning up some areas whilst also preparing for the ball at Halamshiral. As stated previously, the Arisen and Gale will be going on their own, not under the Inquisition. Once there, the Inquisitor searches for clues, and the Arisen very quickly realizes that there are pawns serving at the ball. Gale pretends to faint, which allows him and the Arisen to be temporarily excused while the pawns take them to the servant’s quarters.

Once in the privacy of the servant’s quarters, the pawns give Marnie an urgent update about the state of things in Gransys. The Duke wasn’t ill, he was trying to keep her away. Nothing particularly heinous is unfolding, but the pawns are worried the Arisen has abandoned them. Marnie assures them that she’ll return, but before they resolve the issue, the harlequin drops in and tries to murder them.

Cut back to the Inquisition. The Inquisitor finally finds some clues and escapes to the servants quarters with his companions. By the time they get there, Marnie and the pawns are nowhere to be found and everyone else is slaughtered. They briefly have a moment of “oh, so I guess we might have to consider Marnie did this” and move on. They find Marnie and the pawns engaged in battle in the courtyard, and the two groups converge for the rest of the quest. They discover the pawns have been traveling to and from Gransys by a Riftstone they brought overseas with them. This Riftstone is later transported to a grove closer to Skyhold for ease of access to the Pawn Guild. It might be noted that Marnie is the one who finds and unlocks the Empress halla door, mostly because her pawns were collecting whatever they could find already. She has Gale interrogate the man for her, then she brings the information to the Inquisitor. The empress is spared, Florianne is arrested, and the Inquisitor has enough evidence to ally all three parties.

Now that there’s a Riftstone at Skyhold, Gale is going out at night on jobs in other worlds. More pawns begin to frequent Skyhold. They don’t blend in well, but the Arisen is able to explain it away as if the Duke sent over members of his elite army, of which the Arisen is a commander. No one ever suspect she had that kind of station. The pawns all seem moderately wary of Solas, but decide he won’t pull anything in Skyhold around the Arisen, for whatever reason. Gale has the most influence over the other pawns aside from the Arisen because he is the main pawn in this universe. That puts him at a high position, even though he may be younger than many pawns he meets.

Gale still goes to Solas frequently. Their meetings range from Gale asking for help with spells to discussing the Inquisition and the Arisen. Solas starts asking Gale to keep their meetings a secret from the Arisen (red flag!). Meanwhile, Cole and Marnie settle their differences; Marnie says she was never upset with Cole to begin with, and they both make a point to be more objective and communicative with each other. Marnie resumes training Cole and gifts him a pair of climbing boots with spikes on the bottoms (shout out to RavenNox on fanfiction.net for mentioning the strider concept art in a review, because I hadn’t seen it before!).

After Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts, the Inquisitor decides to finally get in a good dragon hunt like I’ve been teasing. This is a long-ish “Dragonhunt Arc,” and it’s what I’d imagine Marnie’s main favor quest would be if this was a real DLC. They go to the Hinterlands to fight the Fereldan Frostback, (I know, I should be writing them getting back at that damn dragon in Crestwood, but I haven’t written anything in the Hinterlands yet, and I wanna get to it). There’s an epic battle where the Inquisition FINALLY gets to see more of that dynamic climbing from Marnie and Cole. Gale also shows some creative use of healing spells by preemptively casting healing spells while Marnie is in danger, then she’ll heal as soon as she’s injured and it’ll spare her, (Gale actually did stuff like this with consumable curatives while I was fighting the Ur-Dragon quite a few times, so I wanted to implement it).

At the end of the battle, the Arisen realizes that dragons are just animals here, as opposed to intelligent, self-possessed beings like in Gransys. Therefore, the only real “reason” she came to Thedas was a bust. She’s noticeably sullen and distraught for several days, and Gale begins to worry. Eventually, Gale reaches out to the Inner Circle for help, and they arrange a quiet evening in the yard where she and Gale could dress fancy and slow-dance because it was the one thing she wanted to do at Halamshiral and couldn’t do. There’s this vague internal monologue about how she never gets to keep what she loves, and it’s implied she only truly loves Gale, and it’s also a subtle reminder that she’s a fucking god, but anyway.

After the Dragonhunt Arc, I get back to the main quest, except I kind of don’t, because I want things to be more dramatic. They chip away at some favor quests, and oddly enough, Gale and the Arisen start to drift apart. This is due to several factors including but not limited to Marnie being preoccupied with other pawns and Inquisition-related duties, but it’s also largely because of a concentrated effort on several people’s part to get Gale to assert himself as an individual human as opposed to a pawn defined by his Arisen.

When they go to the Temple of Mythal, Marnie and Gale can barely keep themselves together. The group manages to complete the quest regardless. They ally with Abelas and Morrigan drinks from the Well of Sorrows.

When they face off against Corypheus, Marnie uses the Backfire skill when fighting the red lyrium dragon to ensure it dies. In that moment, a part of her is frighteningly powerful, almost like she is no longer human. (God this stuff sounds corny.) She passes out for a minute and Gale stays with her while she recovers and the others go to fight Corypheus. Corypheus probably delivers a villainous monologue. I was originally going to have Marnie and Gale bust in and at the part where Corypheus says "ancient ones, if you've ever been there, be with me now," Marnie says "I am one" but I decided against it. The Inquisitor lands the killing blow because this is his quest and his game.

During the afterparty, the Arisen and Gale interact with each member of the inner circle with the news that they'd be leaving for Gransys in the morning. Neither are drinking and they're both dressed as if they're going to leave any minute.

When Marnie and Gale are setting off, Cole comes to Marnie one last time and tells her she never will be alone. That reassures her and, for the time being, she seems ready to confront Grigori upon her return to Gransys.

When Marnie and Gale return for the Tresspasser DLC, they still haven't killed Grigori, but they did go to Bitterblack Isle. As such, their gear is dope and dragonforged, and their mental health is in shambles. Gale also converted to the way of the bow while they were there. They aid the Inquisition in fighting Qunari and finding Solas, and he and Marnie have a final showdown where he's revealed to be the Dread Wolf and she's revealed to be the Seneschel who reset the world so she could relive being the Arisen again and again. Solas needles her about why she redid everything, why she refuses to assume her place as Seneschel, and how many times she's done this same thing over and over again. Gale manages to shoot Solas from afar and they're all driven apart.

After the Inquisition returns to Skyhold and orients themselves, only Gale reappears saying his Arisen sent him in case they meant her any harm after her reveal. After the Inquisitor agrees not to compromise Marnie, Gale leads him to the ruins by the Riftstone, where Marnie's been waiting. They have a chat about her true origins and intentions, and she admits she didn't defeat Grigori because she knew she'd have to leave the mortal world soon after. She agrees to help the Inquisition when she can and places a Portcrystal by the Riftstone. They both agree that things are probably going to get a whole lot worse.

And that's where the fic ends. There's also a number of subplots I neglected to detail. Cole's favor quest, a few side quests related to the pawn guild, etc. As I said, I might return to the fic later on, but I really don't care for it or the fandom or the source material anymore. It's sad, but I'm happier elsewhere. And I thought it was only fair to leave some conclusion to the fic regardless. I might post certain chapters and snipets on my tumblr, but for the most part, this is the last you'll see of the official fic.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the readers and fans that have stuck with me through all this. I wish you all the best, and I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full fic. Stay safe out there!

[livralph]

Too late- drarry angst but it ends in fluff bc I can’t commit to angst

Harry winced as Draco applied the murtlap essence to the cuts and scratches on his arm, but other than that managed to hide the discomfort it had put him in. Draco hesitated, looking uncertainly at him. His hands were reaching to the table to pick up the bandages that were sat atop of it. “I’m fine.” Harry said through his teeth, proving how obviously not fine he was.

“You aren’t, but I’m going to put the bandage on no matter how much it hurts because otherwise that will get infected.” Draco countered, shaking his head lightly when he began wrapping the bandage around his friends upper arm.

“It won’t get infected-“

“It will.” He said harshly, eyeing Harry reproachfully before allowing his gaze to wander to the bruises on his chest. “Those will take ages to heal. I’d prescribe you something, but seeing as you refuse to go to St Mungo’s I can’t.”

“Draco.” Harry muttered pleadingly. “I can’t go, because I’ll have to say what happened.”

The bandage on Harry’s arm finally covered the wounds effectively so Draco cut the end and secured it to stop it from unravelling. “You could at least tell me what happened.”

After not even a second of thought Harry shook his head. “No I can’t.”

Of course, this had been what Draco had expected. It happened so often. Harry would come to his with an injury and refuse to explain it. Years ago, when Harry was still an auror, he didn’t ask for an explanation, only laughed and muttered something about Harry and his need to be a hero. But that had been years ago. Now Harry worked in Diagon Alley with Luna, a small cafe which they also sold second hand muggle books and books detailing the various creatures Luna’s mind obsessed over from. There was no reason for Harry to come to Draco’s with new injuries that were obviously not from simply tripping over every other week. He’d once had a broken collar bone and Draco practically dragged him to St Mungo’s, still being non the wiser about what had happened.

“Tell me.” Draco implored, looking over Harry’s form sadly. The bruise upon his ribs were shaping out to obviously be from punches. There was one mark on his stomachs that were certainly left by magic- the cruciatus curse, and Draco couldn’t even bare to think how he’d gotten it, let alone who had given him it. “Please.”

Harry shook his head, though he looked closer to giving in than he ever had before, eyes screwed shut, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t. I can’t, because if I did I’d have to tell you something else that I can never say.”

Draco’s hands fell to his lap and he became very aware of the pain in his legs from kneeling beside the sofa for so long. He knew what that was, of course he did. The thought was dismissed as soon as it arrived. Now it would be crewl to retract what he’d said years ago a while after they’d become friends. They were drunk, in Harry appartment. Pretending that two years previously the war hadn’t ended, Harry hadn’t died and somehow come back when so many children and adults and magical creatures were lost. Harry hadn’t spoken for a few minutes, nor had Draco. They were just sat in the kitchen, sipping their fire whiskey gently.

Or, Draco had been. Harry has been looking at Draco as if he’d just had some revelation. He saw the look in the corner of his eye and grimaced. The words he’d said were so vivid that he played them on repeat each time Harry and him went out to eat together, when Harry came to his house with muggle movies when Narcissa had fallen ill and forbade him from moping at her bedside, every time they’d seen eachother and felt that the line of friendship they’d managed to maintain had become blurred.

The words were right there because he’d said them and however much he hated that he had he couldn’t allow himself to tell Harry he hadn’t meant them. Draco had meant it eight years ago and he still meant it with Harry lying shirtless on his sofa, seconds away from explaining it.

“There were some people, teenagers really, in the Alley between the cafe and Ollivanders. They were being loud, shouting about death eaters and I heard a few screams, so I went down- to make sure no one was in trouble, y’know.” He breathed deeply. “They always get excited when they see me- famous Harry Potter. The wizard who killed Voldemort, who’s parents died when he was a child, who lost fucking everything that could have been good. They only see the first bit. I said hi, made sure they were all right. Then they explained what they were doing.”

Draco laughed, but there wasn’t a drop of humour to it. He could guess where this was going. “They we’re putting up pictures of ex-death eaters who hadn’t been prosecuted. Or just followers of Voldemort who they thought deserved some shit.”

Harry nodded. “Posters of you, saying there was a reward if you were given to the ministry alive, bigger reward if you were dead. Other names too, Slytherin’s, all of them. Some of them were first years when we were in our eighth year. I told them to stop. Didn’t go to plan, especially when I told them I know you.”

“For fucks sake, Harry-“

“I old them you’re a good person, said your a healer now- bloody good one too. And then-“ Harry lifted his less injured arm and gestured at himself. He bit the inside of his cheek when he felt a sharp pain sear across his shoulder blades. “It happens all the time, Luna keeps trying to get me to report them. Same kids every time.”

Draco covered his face with his hands hunching over himself and speaking, though it was to muffled to be in any way comprehensible. He looked up a few moments later. His eyes were glassy, as if he were trying not to cry. “Why don’t you? Look at yourself, these aren’t even all from today- they’re from the three weeks ago because you haven’t even managed to heal from the last time they attacked you.”

Harry just let out a deep breath and shook his head.

“Why do you stop them?” He muttered weakly, not wanting to know the answer. “Even Pansy wouldn’t stand up to them, hell, Luna doesn’t stop them. Why do you?”

“You know why. I know you do.” Harry put his hand out towards Draco, begging him to take it.

He laughed bitterly, looking at the outstretched hand and to where his own were still in his lap. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

When he accepted that Draco wasn’t going to acknowledge his hand more than he had he sat up a little more so that he could rest his hand on the side of Draco’s face. His friend flinched, eyes closing to stop his tears, falling one was already making its way down his face.

“Harry-“ Draco began, only to be stopped when Harry’s thumb brushed across his cheekbone, wiping away the tear. He exhaled shakily.

“Too late.”

Draco clenched his jaw. Maybe if he wished hard enough this wouldn’t be real. Harry wasn’t actually telling him he was in love with him. This was all some wicked dream to torture Draco more than ever. At least usually when he had dreams about Harry they had no trace of truth, he could simply brush it off and go on with life. That was the only was he knew what was going on wasn’t a dream, never would his imagination be this crewl.

“You’re in love with me.” Draco said, meaning to ask it, but it came out as a statement. He felt Harry nod, which surprised him enough to open his eyes. Harry had moved to be sat on the floor in front of Draco they were at eye level. “You’re an idiot.” He breathed against Harry’s mouth.

“Maybe.”

“Just maybe?” It was bordering teasing, but the air was too thick for it to work. It sounded deadly serious from the circumstances. That was probably for the better.

“Well, can’t be that bad; I know you love me too, don’t I?” The air was thin again, Draco could feel his limbs.

“Do you?” But even as he spoke his hands were moving to rest on the back of Harry’s neck and find the hand that wasn’t on his cheek.

“Maybe.” Their fingers wove together.

“Just maybe?” Draco repeated, his tears now mingled with Harry’s both of their cheeks.

Harry opened his eyes, and somehow Draco did this around the same time. He shrugged shyly at the blonde, eyes fixed intently on the grey ones inches from his.

Draco took this moment to press a delicate kiss to Harry’s lips. “Of course I love you, Harry.”

He allowed a smile to grow on his face. “I love you too.”

Draco snorted, “I’ve been trying to convince myself that that wasn’t true for years.” Harry tensed in his arms. “I don’t deserve you- I don’t, Harry. Or- I thought I didn’t. I was in such a bad place and things were just going worse. There’s this muggle thing I read about. Karma; I learnt about it in our repeat seventh year. I took muggle studies.”

“I remember.” Harry breathed.

“Of course you do.” Draco laughed as said the words, more tears falling from his eyes and they only fell harder when Harry wiped them away. “But, I thought it was karma for what I’d done for Vo- for Voldemort. The threats that I still get, my mother’s death, so many other things. I figured if we were in love it would go to shit. It wasn’t difficult to decide losing you all together would be so much worse than being just friends.”

“Well, let me tell you something, you’ll never lose me completely. I’ll always be here for you no matter what you need me for.”

Draco pressed their foreheads together lightly and kissed Harry again because he could. “Stupid fucking hero complex.” The words were muffled as Draco spoke them directly into the other mans mouth, but Harry laughed all the same.

[callmeasyouwantidk]

3, 6, 12, and 21 for the Writer Asks, please! 🤗 💜

Thank you for the ask Hiro!

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3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing?

My favorite is the feeling you get when you have finished writing so you reread it to make sure everything is correct.

My least favorite is writers block. AHHHGHHHHGHGGGGGGGG

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6. Favorite character you've written?

I never wrote originals yet (even tho I'm thinking on it) so my fav is Butsuma with completely different attitude in my mid-century AU. I made him like, as strong, as serious, but now he takes everything close to heart and just had to go with it because a good king can't allow himself to be a crybaby in the war. He was suffering and I loved to reread about it. Usual writer stuff, nothing new)

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12. Which story of yours do you like best? Why?

Honestly I'm not sure here. There are like three stories that r good enough to be my favs. I can't decide... Ugh. Whatever. Basic review of them 😅: First story is basically about Tobirama getting kidnapped when he is a child (like, 6 months or so) by Tajima. That happened while Butsuma was at his mission and Tobi's mom was about to give birth to Itama so Hashirama and Tobi were with their nany. But what can a regular human nany do when at the window she sees the head of the Uchiha clan? Only try to get the children to safety or get help. Unfortunately, Tajima got his hands on one of the boys before nany could. Now Tobirama grows up among the Uchiha as one of them, with only one goal - to kill his father, brothers, mother, and his own clansman. He succeeded at killing two of his brothers at young age, and killing his mother while a teen. Tajima gets physical pleasure when he sees Butsuma clutch his teeth in anger and dispare every fight Tobi includes. Not gonna go farther, too long, but you got the spirit.

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Second story is about Hashirama getting caught prisoner while Tajima is still ruling the clan. He learns that he was caught when he used himself as a shield to save Tobirama from a wicked two way attack that would have killed him. He also learns that even tho he did save him, the poisoned blade did a little cut, so Tobi will die from it in few days. Gotta get out. While trying to find his way out, Hashi stumbles upon his father and father's good friend who went missing four years ago, who's also held prisoners. Same story - too long to tell, but you got the spirit.

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3rd story has two versions. This is Ver 1. It's the AU I'm currently working on. Mid-century AU, where people have wings (type and colour of wing depends on personality, hair colour, and mobility of the person. Also it might depend on the wings your ancestors had.) and magic. Butsuma is the king, Tajima is the king. Senju kingdom grew weaker lately, because many of their blacksmiths have been slaughtered in one of the attacks on kingdom, and the army needs weapons. Because now the knights gotta run around the field looking for a weapon in case they don't have their anymore, they grow more and more tired after every fight. The Knights of the Round Table (which includes Butsuma and his knights) decided that the kingdom is growing too weak, and judging from Uchihas actions, they realize it too and don't hesitate to use the opportunity. They have decided that if the Uchiha kingdom does one strong enough strike with all their power, it might even be the end of it. To prevent this happening Butsuma calls Tajima for negotiation. He says that both armies are tired and that it might be good to take a break and form temporary peace, let the armies rest for a while, heal up, and continue. Tajima, of course knew where it was coming from, and it was far from the deal he was willing to make, so he asked for a payment. He said that he will consider such deal, if Butsuma gives him one certain payment to stay away. The payment is Butsuma himself. Tajima asked Butsuma to give himself in as a prisoner. A slave. Only in such case will Tajima agree. Having no other choice Butsuma agrees, signs the contract, and gives himself in, leaving a wife and his four children. While being an Uchiha slave he is treated even worse then a homeless alcoholic. Leaving in a cell in dungeons. In summer/autumn and spring working on the fields, and in winter helping as a servant. For every little mistake he was punished with a certain amount of whip blows that would leave him a bloody mess, and a lot of deep bruises. He was given only the things that he need not to die to quickly. In cold winters he had to swallow his pride and beg for something warm. The only way to get a little food for him was to pleasure Tajima in a naughty way (if you know what I mean ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). His status here was lower then a dog's, so anyone and everyone could do whatever they wanted with him. He had to do every request regardless of anything. Because of constant physical and emotional stress of more or less regular punishments and the inability to say "no" to all the perverted guards around the castle he aged greatly in a not so long amount of time, even tho he also did a lot of work to adapt. Madara was helping him tho, as much and as well as he could. He would call him in for said "naughty time" but would let him just sit and rest for an hour after which let him go. He would bring him a little of bread if Butsuma didn't eat for more then 3 days. He would help him get treatment if Butsuma got ill. Ten years later, when Madara grew to be 24 he made an assassination on his father because didn't agree with his perverted way of spreading tyranny not only on Butsuma, but through the kingdom itself. He became the king, and let Butsuma back to his family, shortly after which they made a permanent peace treaty.

Ver2. All the same but instead of asking for Butsuma to turn himself in, Tajima asked for one of his children. Through days of thinking of a way to get out of the situation, and Tobirama saying his word, Butsuma sends Tobi to Tajima as a prisoner. For Tobi it's all the same story but only that people get their wings only when they turn 18, and in the Uchiha castle it is forbidden for anyone to use wings except the royal family. Tobi had to learn to control his wings while always being at risk of them opening randomly and getting him in a lot of trouble. Bit again, Madara helped him with that.

Very 2 has a different ending tho. At some point when Tobi is around 22 the Uchiha kingdom suffers an attack from a big enemy coming for Tajima. During that attack, Tajima dies, but so does Tobirama. Tobi goes to the other world, but instead of resting in peace he spends a his time looking over his family and kingdom. With years passing, he becomes the Guardian of the Senju kingdom, and he looks over it and all the people living in until the end of times.

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21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

Um... I guess that I make kinda very dramatic content, and a lot of people actually like drama but usually are ashamed (for whatever reason) to say about it so there are not much actual dramatic fanfics.

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Hope you had good time reading my 3 page essay answering these. I really couldn't decide on the story could I?😅