#this came to me like a vision from an angry god and i was compelled

[ichiwashername-o]

I have drawn many, many stupid things in my time.

But this has to take the cake.

Happy New Years, y'all, have the absolute worst thing I've ever done.

[aloneatpeace]

Cosmic Chaos

Chapter 12

Visions   

Thought/mind readings.

the chatter around you woke you up, eyes slowly opening you find white selling above you with a furrowed eyebrow you glance at the space that does not resembles your room fully awake you glance around to find scott and stiles asleep on the chair that when you realize you are in hospital room. Closing your eyes for a minute the last night memory come back to you.

Not just that you now remember what happened with the werewolf when it chased you, the time with scott when he changed at the filed with derek the night all that come back to you.

Were they real? Or your just out your mind? Even if was real how was that even possible it was if you just stepped into another reality, or another universe. It just doesn’t make sense. Was this a gift like grams said but you are not her legit granddaughter then how is this all happening.

Scott twist uncomfortable in his seat blinking he see you sitting up lost in your thoughts, quick on his feet he jumps towards you making stiles fall down from the chair at his sudden movement. Stiles groans when his body hit the floor looking up, he sees scott making his way towards you, who is now awake and fully functioning.

Stiles picks himself up and come towards you as scott sit down on your right side of the bed “what happened? Are you alright?”

Stile’s huff takes your left side of bed “you better have a good explanation for this I lied to your grams and you had us look for you in the middle of the night. Only to get a call that you’re here”

Scott nod “if mom was here, it would been worse?”

You palm your face sighing loudly “oh god did that all happened, I don’t know what just exactly happened?” you look up with exhausted face making stiles clam down soften his glare.

Scott frown “yeah, that just not it. I could smell a werewolf on you”

Stiffing up your eyes widen looking at scott “what...how?.am I bit?” panicked you move around looking for the mark.

Stiles grabs your arms “clam down you are not bitten”

“Yeah, it was scent in there nothing else, we don’t even no who took you here” scott then pick something from his pocket a necklace “I was going to give you this later today but seems like this is the right time. It has vervain on it so no vampire can compel you” he turns to stiles if he said that correct, he gets a nod in return.

He put that in your palm and you wear it silently, after calming down you sigh lean back “I thing there is something wrong with me”

Scott and stiles share a look “the doc said nothing wrong with you. You were not drugged or anything if that what you worried about.” Scott said

You shake your head “that not what I meant, I’m seeing things. Last night I saw this tomb or throne it was like I was teleported or something and there was these carving on the walls and a statue of a goddess or something and there were these creatures’ giant monsters…and I she came alive she was glowing and ……then I blacked out” you end looking at them to say something.

Stiles lifts his chin slowly nod eyes squinted clearly not buying the what you are selling you turns to scott and he frown at you worriedly.

“I’m telling you the truth that what happened last night” you cried

“Are you sure?” scott asks

“I know it sounds crazy but it’s the truth”

Stile’s sigh ‘Maybe she hit her head really hard’ he thinks

“No, I didn’t, I’m fine. Why can’t you believe me” you yelled at stiles making him startled, you frown when you realized you just yelled and he didn’t say that aloud but he was thinking that, scott frown seeing you angry.

It not like they don’t get yelled at you but something feels different about the way you just yelled at him that made scott rethink.

“I’m sorry” you whisper

Scott sigh “come on we have to go without getting caught, we will talk about it later”

The trip to home was silent no one talked, stiles stop Infront of your home and you silently got out “get ready quick I’ll come and pick you up” stiles said

You turn to him “don’t worry about it, I will come by myself.” You walk inside without saying anything

Stiles opens his mouth to disagree but scott stops him “let her, be”

Stiles sigh before driving away.

When Sheila come down, she sees you sitting down the table with a coffee cup on your hand as the news on the tv is on.

“Finally decide to come home”

You smile at her “I will always come home, you know”

Grams take seat next yours with her own cup of coffee “next just tell me before you go off”

“I promise” you thought for a second about telling grams about what happened you place your hands on her shoulder making her turns to you.

An image of bonnie walk towards grams who laying on her bed eyes closed appears, soon bonnie calls her but she won’t wake up bonnie starts walling her eyes out calling out elena saying grams not breathing the image change into she and grams performing a ritual outside a tomb and you see damon inside with Stefan and elena was there too.

 “You alright?” grams ask as he run her hands through your hair

Blinking you look at her your words come out soft “yeah, I’m alright” pushing yourself out the seat you stand up “I have to go…. you take care yourself…I have a thing…to …. go”

“Tell bonnie to stay here tonight will you”

“Oh… well, sure, come home tonight okey” she said

You turn back to her “hey grams… our dreams are just a dream, right?”

“I thing about dream is hon that we never know when they become real, true” she said

Derek stand Infront of the mortuary waiting for the cops to allow and take his sister away after his arrest they had the custody of the body, after all the formality he takes the body, he drives to his home get out his jeep he did not expect to see you sitting down the steps of his home without the two idiots of friends as he like to call them.

“What are doing here?”

You sigh at his cold tone “well good morning to you derek my mom never gave me sugar that why I’m sour hale”

Derek sigh at you “listen I’ve things to do, so I ask again why are you again”

“I will tell you when you tell me what is in today’s your do list” you shrug at him

“I have to bury my sister do you need to anything else?” his was rough the annoyance gone replaced with a void look as he looks past you.

you stood silent for minute gulping “here? Wouldn’t the hunters or anyone else finding it again”

he glances at you standing now closer to him, eyes didn’t have sympathy but something deeper.

He then think about what you said and you right what if someone else stumble upon it.

“I know the priest we can bury her at churchyard, that’s if you agree as well” you offer.

derek looks at you suspiciously “why? what do you want?”

you title your head at him “A thousand million dollar only cash no check…god you are not good at making friends”

you took out your phone and text stiles and scott to come as well at least they can pay respect the dead body they dig out.

“I don’t like asking anyone else permission” he answers

You look up “clearly……I know a place deep inside the woods I don’t think no one else know about it”

He nods at you, satisficed you walks towards the jeep opening the passenger’s door and make yourself comfortable, he takes a moment to collect himself glancing at you who now getting impatient. He gets inside the jeep and starts drive as you tell him where to go.

When the both of you reach the place stiles and scott was already there, wordlessly they nod and walks deep inside the woods derek carried the remains of his sister and scott and stiles had volunteered to carry spade, kassi and shovel. You gone off somewhere saying you can’t get your clothes dirty making scott and stiles do the work, the three of them starts dig the ground where a tall three stands.

As digging stiles and scott exchange a silent conversation that did not go unnoticed as they thought it would but derek speak at all.

“We are sorry” scott starts

“For what?” derek look up

Stiles who is panting adds “for everything you know…” he points at the body

The silence was loud after that thankfully you came back, they turn towards your direction to see arrange some wild flowers. “Are you guys done?” you ask without looking up.

After done burying his sister, you all stand Infront of the grave as you three silently pray derek stand there with guilty look on his face, he couldn’t save his love of his life he couldn’t save his family from the fire he couldn’t save his sister the only person who looked after him after losing everyone and everything in his life.

You divide the flower into three equal parts and hand him to scott and stiles and they slowly stride towards the grave and place the flowers they nod at you before walking away.

Derek feels a soft touch on his hands and see you place the last buddle of flower on his palm, gripping them he places them on his sister grave, keeling down on the dirt sweat on his face, hands covered in mud.

He turns to you “thank you” he whispered you surprise him with a small smile walking towards him.

“You know I was wondering after everything that happened to you, why didn’t you turn to something that can make everyone fear, I think I would lose my mind if anything happened to the ones that I hold dear to me, I admit you are asshole but also misunderstood” you finally stand Infront of him with a feet distance “ you don’t have to do it all alone now, you have scott and stiles surprisingly and me but you have to lets us in, Derek. Trusting us might be hard for you and that’s okey. Just let us know, let us help if you need it”

His eyes fill up but he didn’t let his tears full his air get knock down when you wrap your hands around his shoulder with a little difficulty, he slowly let his hands wrap around your waist and unintentionally pull you closer to him, leaning into the hug pushing his face in the crock of your neck shutting his eyes feeling his tear on your skin your hold on him tighten. He hands grips your waist tighten the abnormal warmth of his body made you sweat a little as well as he feels his nose touch the hair that stuck on your neck his cheeks pressed against yours.

An immense amount of grief, self-loathing, loneness’s hit surge through deep in your skin that made you made you held your breath for a moment, it made you want to scream from the top of your leg destroy everything around you until your knuckles bleed and body is black and blue.

“You don’t have to go through it alone” you whisper.

The vibration of your phone makes you and derek break the hug, derek move away from lighting speed looking away you give him bored look before checking the text.

Robotically you check to see scott asking you to come to where they where were, you and derek starts to walk towards the place and see them hiding behind tree while peeking from time to time. Scott is Infront of stiles behind him, scott seems to focusing on something.

When you reach behind them you see elena and Stefan talking, watching them you unknowingly tapping into Stefan’s mind you see them back in late 80’s with a girl that look exactly like Elena gilbert as he spoke the whole thing you see it all. 

You did not realize they done talking as stiles comment “this is some kind of twilight 2.0 shit” unfortunately Stefan hears this and he turns to look at the intruders which made Elena also turns to you guys. “Oh, I think he heard me”

Your head hurt from the voices inside your head.

I shouldn’t have said that…. wait I have two werewolves why should I fear? They handle it while me and y/n go home if something happens.

Stile’s need keep his mouth shut…why is the Dracula looking at me...I can’t even shift properly

These idiots!

Oh, bonnie sister knows about Stefan’s truth!

They were not supposed to be here.

You close your eyes for moment shutting everything around you, “Can we stop staring at each other soul and be on our own merry way” you speak up

You start to walk away the suddenly Stefan speed Infront of you few feet’s aways making scott and derek to an urge to shift and stiles worry as elena walks towards you as well.

“I can’t let you all walk away you weren’t meant know about my truth” Stefan said truthfully, he didn’t possess any threat to you. The moment he tried to walk towards you he was thrown away by scott and derek picked him up and pinned him against the tree near snarling Infront of his face his face change into, iris shits blue and elongated sharp teeth’s claws coming out.

Scott eyes changed yellow and claws in the place of nails face shifting sharp and long teeth slowly growling as well but a lot claimer as he stands next you and stiles, who already had his hands holding yours.

Elena gasp in fear as she Stefan gets thrown away by scott, the scrawny teenager now fierce and terrifying as the shift something she never seen only get more anxious and perplexed as Stefan get choked by the guy that with you.

“Please don’t hurt him” elena pleads running towards them tears on her face.

Stefan who struggling on Derek’s hold now coming back from the sudden shock of what just took place, he was not aware of werewolf around here and he was not expecting your friends being one of them. 

Derek snarls.

“don’t kill now. I don’t want to be the witness” you said from the side while stiles watch them with fascination.  “Derek, I don't do well with blood”

Derek rolls his eyes internally at your comment. Elean looks at you with a look of belief making you shrug “what neither does stiles” stiles nod at that.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt her or anyone” Stefan exclaims

“He is good guy, please don’t hurt him” elena said again

Derek growl “yeah, you were just going to compel us right”

Stiles gasps “I like my memories, thank you very much”

You walk towards them standing behind derek “we like to keep our memories to ourselves; we don’t want any problem you don’t want to so why not let just go with our day?” you ask them “its not like we don’t know about the world of supernatural as you can see”

Stefan glance at you then to derek and then back at you somehow, he knows you pull the strings here now the tone of your voice state that your confident and knows what you’re doing.

He nods and slowly derek release him with low growl, the vibration of your phone pulls you away its Lydia asking you to come to her home saying something happened.

“I think we are settled here then” you said to elena and Stefan and turns to stiles and scott, scott shifted back with derek walking towards them “stiles can you take me to Lydia home?”

Stiles lit up “count me in”

Series masterlist

[hangingfrommylips]

The over-headcanonization of things. Pt I: Remus

Being immersed on internet fandom since the ripe age of 12 (not something I’m proud of, perhaps on another ranting sessions we can talk about that), I’ve definitely seen some weird things when it comes to fanfiction. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it, think it’s a beautifully creative way of interacting with a piece of media (when it’s inherently fictional and not based of real people or events, and, of course, when it’s well written and thoughtful), but it can also be very damaging on the ones consuming it.

Taking the Marauders fandom as an example, the amount of actual canon information we have on them is infimal. The ability an entire community had to create a very complicated backstory and practically entirely new characters out of thin air is amazing, especially once its main source is a racist transphobic hag, and the fandom is so detached from it that it's composed of the very people she claims to hate. We took literal 0 information from old and plot-hole-full books and made it our own.

For another, since there’s no actual foundation on what the characters originally were like, it’s very hard to sort wrong from right when it comes to characterizations and creating material for the stories (I refuse to talk about shifting here cmh). There are also very bad headcanons, in which completely change the essence of the character to satisfy some personal goal or even comes from some intrinsic fetishizing. A perfect example of this is Remus Lupin, who ever since 2005 was a very recluse, shy, lanky and depressed character, turned into this breathtakingly beautiful, horrifyingly tall, toxic-angry jock. A roadman, really? At first it was ok, only a different POV on a widely loved character. But then it became the only thing about him, and when he wasn’t, people started complaining. What? When did being toxic to your boyfriend and treating him like an incapable and fragile human being (which is exactly what some fans are doing to Sirius nowadays btw) became the standard? We used to be so much better than that. Not to mention when, just by being bookish, people treat him like some sort of all-knowing god that nothing goes past. C’mon!

Talking about the role “All The Young Dudes” by MsKingsBean89 had in the modern generation of the fandom, it being really groundbreaking and a real work of art. I think this is where the current RJL vision came from. The difference, however, is when the lovely author put in the very beginning notes that his personality was heavily affected by growing up in a boys-only care home, not having a mom or dad or good authority figures to relate to. 

That‘s why, in that very specific scenario, Remus was sort of a douche. But he got better-ish, even as a traumatized grownup. People run with that through every treadmill ever, and, no backstory to build the character on, just took the specificity and banalized it to the fours. It’s actually an insult to MKB that people would read her hard work as such shallowness. 

To sum up, it’s very important to analyze and criticize the media you're interacting with, via reading, writing, reviewing or whatever. Is that really the healthiest this storyline can be? Do I feel compelled to that relationship and not wonder about the dynamic or the unintentional flaws in it? Why do I want my favorite character and the one I relate to to be toxic? Is this really the way said person would react to the situation? And in the end, when you don’t recognize that chr. anymore is when you know you lost them to the deep filth of the internet. I’m not saying every character or world build should be flawless and almighty, far from that actually, just that sometimes you need to know when things have gone too far. It’s very hard to want realism when referring to Harry Potter fanfiction of all things, but even fantastic worlds have their batch of decency and, in the human side of things, reaching a byline.

[o-craven-canto]

Possibly related:

Why do the Aztecs need such a horrible mythology with so many apocalypses? One of my sources suggests it was a natural reaction to living in Mesoamerica, an area that combined an impossibly ancient history - three thousand years of civilization by the time the Aztecs came around - with a total failure to invent written history. The Aztecs were surrounded by the ruins of colossal cities - Tula, San Lorenzo, and most of all titanic Teotihuacan. An Aztec warrior in the 15th century couldn't fling a stone from an atl-atl without hitting a godlike ancient city that had been mysteriously destroyed. Eventually you just start thinking in terms of civilizations arising and then being destroyed by angry gods leaving only mysterious stone ziggurats as a fact of nature.

Or imagine you're a medieval European, and you suddenly stumble across the ruins of Rome, having only the barest of legends that such a place even existed. Your first thought might be something like "What happened to them? And how many people do I have to kill to make sure it doesn't happen to me?"

Given that monumental building go back 11 or 12,000 years, over twice as old as the earliest writing, there must have been plenty of ruins inspiring myths of global collapse and decay.

Karen Armstrong, The Great Transformation:

A few elements of the old Minoan and Mycenaean cults remained: there was, for example, a sacred olive tree on the Acropolis. But the thirteenth-century crisis had shattered the old faith. The Greeks had watched their world collapse, and the trauma had changed them. The Minoan frescoes had been confident and luminous; the men, women, and animals depicted had been expectant and hopeful. There were apparitions of goddesses in flowery meadows, dancing, and joy. But by the ninth century, Greek religion was pessimistic and uncanny, its gods dangerous, cruel, and arbitrary. In time, the Greeks would achieve a civilization of dazzling brilliance, but they never lost their sense of tragedy, and this would be one of their most important religious contributions to the Axial Age. Their rituals and myths would always hint at the unspeakable and the forbidden, at horrible events happening offstage, just out of sight, and usually at night. They experienced the sacred in catastrophe, when life was turned inexplicably upside down, in the breaking of taboos, and when the boundaries that kept society and individuals sane were suddenly torn asunder. We can see this dark vision in the terrifying story of the birth of the Greek gods.

These chthonian powers, who lived in the depths of earth, dominated Greek religion during the dark age. In the ninth century, people believed that it was they, not the Olympians, who ruled the cosmos. [...] The Erinyes never entirely lost their hold on the Greek imagination. Long after the dark age, Greeks continued to be preoccupied by tales of men and women who murdered their parents and abused their children. [...] However powerful they became, the Greeks never truly felt that they were in charge of their fate. As late as the fifth century, when Greek civilization was at its peak, they still believed that people were compelled by the Fates, or even by the Olympian gods, to act as they did, and once a crime had been committed, it inflicted untold woes upon innocent human beings who simply happened to live in the polluted environment.

The original formulation of Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Iron Ages by Hesiod (note that there are two Bronze Ages, one simply full of murder and violence, the other coresponding to the age of mythic heroes):

First of all the deathless gods who dwell on Olympus made a golden race of mortal men who lived in the time of Cronos when he was reigning in heaven. And they lived like gods without sorrow of heart, remote and free from toil and grief: miserable age rested not on them; but with legs and arms never failing they made merry with feasting beyond the reach of all evils. When they died, it was as though they were overcome with sleep, and they had all good things; for the fruitful earth unforced bare them fruit abundantly and without stint. They dwelt in ease and peace upon their lands with many good things, rich in flocks and loved by the blessed gods.

But after the earth had covered this generation — they are called pure spirits dwelling on the earth, and are kindly, delivering from harm, and guardians of mortal men; for they roam everywhere over the earth, clothed in mist and keep watch on judgements and cruel deeds, givers of wealth; for this royal right also they received; — then they who dwell on Olympus made a second generation which was of silver and less noble by far. It was like the golden race neither in body nor in spirit. A child was brought up at his good mother's side an hundred years, an utter simpleton, playing childishly in his own home. But when they were full grown and were come to the full measure of their prime, they lived only a little time and that in sorrow because of their foolishness, for they could not keep from sinning and from wronging one another, nor would they serve the immortals, nor sacrifice on the holy altars of the blessed ones as it is right for men to do wherever they dwell. Then Zeus the son of Cronos was angry and put them away, because they would not give honour to the blessed gods who live on Olympus.

But when earth had covered this generation also — they are called blessed spirits of the underworld by men, and, though they are of second order, yet honour attends them also — Zeus the Father made a third generation of mortal men, a brazen race, sprung from ash-trees; and it was in no way equal to the silver age, but was terrible and strong. They loved the lamentable works of Ares and deeds of violence; they ate no bread, but were hard of heart like adamant, fearful men. Great was their strength and unconquerable the arms which grew from their shoulders on their strong limbs. Their armour was of bronze, and their houses of bronze, and of bronze were their implements: there was no black iron. These were destroyed by their own hands and passed to the dank house of chill Hades, and left no name: terrible though they were, black Death seized them, and they left the bright light of the sun.

But when earth had covered this generation also, Zeus the son of Cronos made yet another, the fourth, upon the fruitful earth, which was nobler and more righteous, a god-like race of hero-men who are called demi-gods, the race before our own, throughout the boundless earth. Grim war and dread battle destroyed a part of them, some in the land of Cadmus at seven-gated Thebe when they fought for the flocks of Oedipus, and some, when it had brought them in ships over the great sea gulf to Troy for rich-haired Helen's sake: there death's end enshrouded a part of them. But to the others father Zeus the son of Cronos gave a living and an abode apart from men, and made them dwell at the ends of earth. And they live untouched by sorrow in the islands of the blessed along the shore of deep swirling Ocean, happy heroes for whom the grain-giving earth bears honey-sweet fruit flourishing thrice a year, far from the deathless gods, and Cronos rules over them; for the father of men and gods released him from his bonds. And these last equally have honour and glory.

And again far-seeing Zeus made yet another generation, the fifth, of men who are upon the bounteous earth.

Thereafter, would that I were not among the men of the fifth generation, but either had died before or been born afterwards. For now truly is a race of iron, and men never rest from labour and sorrow by day, and from perishing by night; and the gods shall lay sore trouble upon them. But, notwithstanding, even these shall have some good mingled with their evils. And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth. The father will not agree with his children, nor the children with their father, nor guest with his host, nor comrade with comrade; nor will brother be dear to brother as aforetime. Men will dishonour their parents as they grow quickly old, and will carp at them, chiding them with bitter words, hard-hearted they, not knowing the fear of the gods. They will not repay their aged parents the cost of their nurture, for might shall be their right: and one man will sack another's city. There will be no favour for the man who keeps his oath or for the just or for the good; but rather men will praise the evil-doer and his violent dealing. Strength will be right and reverence will cease to be; and the wicked will hurt the worthy man, speaking false words against him, and will swear an oath upon them. Envy, foul-mouthed, delighting in evil, with scowling face, will go along with wretched men one and all. And then Aidôs and Nemesis, with their sweet forms wrapped in white robes, will go from the wide-pathed earth and forsake mankind to join the company of the deathless gods; and biitter sorrows will be left for mortal men, and there will be no help against evil.

An overwhelming theme of Greek mythology seems to be that things used to be better and everything sucks now. Which makes sense when you realize that the Mycenaean Greeks stopped doing big society for whatever reason and their great big palaces were left to crumble and the Greeks of the dark age didn’t know exactly why those were there but they did know that they used to be full of people.

And when they lost their trade routes, they lost their access to tin and couldn’t make bronze anymore and had to use iron instead.

Hesiod coined the term Iron Age. He claimed truly he was living in an age of iron but he meant this as a bad thing. Bronze is prettier than iron. We now know that iron is harder and better in many ways but they didn’t know that. Bronze was just better in their minds.

But by the time the Greeks had started writing down their opinions about all of this, life had started to return to a similar level of impressiveness to the way it used to be. Great big walked city states were created. Culture and trade in the Mediterranean began to be awesome again.

But still in the mythos and the literature was that feeling hanging over everything that the current day and age sucks in comparison to the far past. So when almost every Greek myth ends in tragedy you have to wonder if this was just the natural order of things to them. Things get worse.

In reality things don’t universally get worse, not do they inherently get better with every generation.

And is this an age of iron? And if it is, what does that mean exactly? Are we all doomed by the narrative or not?

[trickstarbrave]

ive seen the idea floating around that shen yuan IS the original shen qingqiu/shen jiu. and i love it theres a lot of evidence for it. like how default shen yuan reactions are in fact not inherently OOC if yue qingyuan is around. along with other things. lol.  

but the caveat i raise is: the implication here should be that airplane is the og shang qinghua

do i have a clear idea for this? no. it just came to me while i was in the shower. but i think it would be fun. maybe shang qinghua is given a shitty life on earth for daring to betray someone he himself loved for personal gain. he could have written all of PIDW because he was recounting what he knew, and making up the rest (or maybe that shitty 10k a day was his penance and karma, cursed with divine visions of what was to come). the calm, snide spy who could work anyone over and loves to push boundaries and manipulate people becomes a people pleaser. he still thinks about mobei-jun regularly, constantly lamenting that he can never quite get the descriptions right, before being angry with himself that he had no business still feeling that way toward him. he goes out of his way to leave out any positive interactions sqh and mbj had, skimming over or only make vague notes about how they met or how he used to report to his king. he makes himself nothing but stupid, canon fodder, angry at himself. he instead makes the story focus on luo binghe’s many sexcipades because in either world sex sells and if he is going to devote all his time on his repentance retelling the story of his first life, by god he needs to get paid for it or he’s gonna starve to death.

maybe, when he dies and gets sent back, he doesnt even know he was the original goods. he might have forgotten, repressing a lot of it. instead he doesnt remember why he felt compelled to write that much or even how. just that he was. this place feels like his world that he should have control over, but it’s also not. and it confuses him to high hell. it would make sense if he did repress it--he wouldn’t want to remember a life of repentance and self hatred that much. one where he like abandoned and betrayed mbj he is also abandoned. instead he’d be in denial of it entirely, even though he perfectly remembers his childhood in this world and things don’t seem quite right. 

i think it would be fun. cucumber-bro realizes this is his original world, but then remembers. wait. airplane is also from earth. what the fuck does that mean??? is airplane from here too??? or is he the odd one out??? sqh never mentioned that he’s original goods???

idk i just think it would be Fun 

[anime-lover-forever-1127]

Queen {Klaroline} - Chapter 0: Intro/Info You Will NEED (Please Read T-T)

Intro/Info You Will NEED (Please Read T-T)

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Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "The Vampire Diaries", it belongs to its original creator Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, and L. J. Smith. Nor do I own "Originals", which belongs to it's rightful creator Julie Plec, Michael Narducci, Leslie Morgenstein, Gina Girolamo. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release of "The Vampire Diaries" and "Originals". Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me and the story you are getting the idea from.

Warnings: Tyler Bashing

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What if everyone was wrong about Caroline? She wasn't weak, useless or shallow. Klaus was right all along, she's strong, ageless, fearless.

She is a Queen.

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.

.

Also, did I forget to mention that she's Dragon, Vampire, Witch, Werewolf, Phoenix, has Silas powers, Qetsiyah's powers, She can control the veil, see ghosts, and that she can compel anyone and anything, Honorary god, Has the power of the 12 Olympians, and Odin, Loki, and Hela.

She's an Alpha Female, ready to claim her Alpha Male

(And let's not forget about her BFF's Katherine, Stefan, Kai and Enzo)

*****

I don't serve nature, it serves me.

*****

"You aren't angry? That I'm more powerful than you?" Caroline asked quietly, knowing that Tyler would have thrown a fit. At this point, with the help of Kat, Stefan, Enzo, and Kai. She had managed to grow out of a lot of her insecurities. But she couldn't bear the thought of Klaus not liking her. He had considered her perfect before... but now because of her power... would he-

"How could I be anything but proud of my Queen?" Klaus smirked, bowing down to kiss the back of her hand, all the well locking eyes with her. " After all, haven't I been a slave to your whims form the beginning?" "

*****

I told her I'd be her last love, but what I didn't tell her that I'd be my last love as well. We'll belong to each other for eternity.

*****

This story will be pretty confusing, so here's some knowledge that should help make it... less confusing.

Caroline Powers: Dragon, Vampire, Witch, werewolf, Phoenix, Silas powers, Qetsiyah's powers, She can control the veil (bring people back), see ghosts, she can compel anyone and anything, Alpha Female

Caroline's Family: So Caroline's Family is Silas and Qetsiyah who are her aunt and uncles. Her mother was Silas' little sister, sent through time.Relationships: Caroline x Klaus, Stefan x Rebekah, Katherine x Elijah, Kol x Bonnie x Enzo, Sage x Finn, Kai x Daivana, Silas x Qetsiyah

Bashing: Camille, Hayley, Elena, Tyler, Rik, Matt

*****

The one who came up with the original, wonderful idea for this was Tay on Ao3! I did make some changes to suit my vision. But a lot of the base ideas were requested by them. So a huge shout out to them. Because I would never have thought of any of this, without them. So thank you.

I know this kind of sounds like a crack fic, but I swear to you it isn't. Caroline's a BAMF who will be treated like the Queen she is, by the people who matter.

Anyways,

KLAROLINE FOR LIFE BECAUSE I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Song

The 3E exam was Toyama’s most difficult day. Afterwards, he always had to do a difficult counseling and comfort session with all the students about their visions. And for some who didn’t make the cut, his sessions would include brainwashing and memory wiping to make them forget everything about Cassell so they could go home and continue their lives, ignorant of everything they experienced here. 

He made his way back to his office and sat behind the desk.

He sighed and cleaned his glasses while he waited. No one ever knew what was going on in there. Only those who were monitoring with the cameras namely EVA. Whatever happened, the medical team was ready to take care of it.

But he felt the muscles in his neck were tense and his heart was beating faster than normal. His analytical brain told him he was worried about Tigre. Even though he told himself it was pointless to worry about him, that his fate was with the College now, he couldn’t stop.

So he spoke to himself in casual calm language. “I think its time to admit, that your care for that boy has gone beyond what is professional.” He slid the glasses onto his nose. 

“You could barely leave him there properly without tears coming right? That’s why you left so abruptly. Right now the test is starting and his dragonblood is waking up. He might attack the students inside once he realizes what he is. And then he has no future. You tried. You did all you could. But it’s possible he was doomed from the start.”

“But the heart will do what it will do. Heh... you’re not immune, Toyoma-kun.” He chuckled to himself. “But you cannot drink. Your students will need you now more than ever. You can go drink later.”

The phone, a traditional rotary, rang loudly in the silence. He picked up. “Toyama speaking.”

The raspy inhale told him who was speaking. Schneider’s voice came over the earpiece, “I can patch you into the feed. I would like you to watch.”

“Watch the boy turn into a monster? I don’t think so...”

“That’s not what’s happening. I’ll send the link to your cell.”

Toyama’s cellphone let up and he cradled the landline against his ear while he clicked the link provided.

The video feed showed the classroom. 

Normally the 3 E was absolute mayhem as each of the students’ minds were lost in the sound, like listening to a favorite song, the mind wandered and the body followed and they were compelled to write down their visionary inscriptions on the paper or on whatever other surface they could find. But what Toyama saw made his jaw drop in shock.

Tigre was singing.

He wasn’t just singing, he was singing with a smile of rapturous joy, tears pouring down his face. He wasn’t writing down his answers, he was singing them, speaking each dragon word in turn. As the dragon verses shifted, he would listen briefly and his eyes closed and he would hold in hands to his chest, his face beaming with joy before belting out a full throated perfect rendition of that Yanling.

Toyama felt his eyes burn and quickly blinked away tears for a moment. Relief washed over him like a flood and his smile started to echo Tigre’s. He felt proud that Tigre was succeeding. He wasn’t just performing well on the test, but he wasn't being violent. Quite the opposite. He was joyous, happier than Toyama had ever seen him.

But then in the next moment Toyama’s blood ran cold.

Dragon language wasn’t just words. They were commands. They could impose a rule upon an area to control the elements. They could command a forest to burn. They could command a storm, a drought, a flood, an earthquake, or lightning. Some abilities were so strong, they would destroy the user. If it wasn’t for the restriction placed on the use of this sacred speech by the College’s alchemical array, Tigre would have joyfully sang out and destroyed the entire college and possibly all of Chicago.

“Dear... God...” Toyama whispered. “Is he a Dragon King?”

“No. If he was, we would have erased him and shoved his body in the Ice Cellar. But he is a hybrid of Dragon King level resonance. He’s different from the other hybrids in other ways too. We’ve run other tests. Nothing about this man is natural... and yet everything is.”

“Is this why you have brought him here? Why you were interested?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. We’re still studying. In the meantime, you should probably go out to meet him. He doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

Schneider hung up the phone. Toyama was brought back to reality. Yes he did feel fond of Tigre... but he was still a doctor and Tigre was his patient. He would have to carefully maintain his mind so he didn’t go berserk and bring ruin to the college. He stood up and made his way back to the library. When he came back outside, the thunderstorm had intensified. Lightning cut across the sky and thunder roared, as thought the sky itself were cracking apart. The trees swayed heavy in the wind.

----

When Tigre came out of his trance, his throat hurt, his jaw hurt and his face was sticky with tears. He was shaking and exhausted. He wasn’t at his desk any more but standing in the middle of the room. He wanted to see Toyama and tell him that he wasn’t mad at him for leaving him alone. So when he found him waiting outside, he ran up to him and hugged him, babbling uncontrollably all sorts of silly things while Toyama told him to get some rest while stroking his hair. 

He suddenly realized after that that other students were filing out. All the other students looked exhausted and limp. He turned to them with a joyous face, but they all just flinched away from him, looking at him with tear streaked faces. Even Porsche, who seemed vibrant and sassy before, hugged her two sisters while crying uncontrollably. Celeste glared at him accusingly and Tigre flinched away. 

“Don’t mind them. Most people don’t experience joy like yours.” Toyama pulled him away from the other students. “I will have to go help them with their feelings.”

Tigre was confused. Why would anyone be sad about what he’d just heard? “Toyama-san, I saw something amazing. You knew right? You knew what I was!”

“I had no idea exactly what you were.” Toyama said patiently. “No one did. Your vision is one that’s personal to you, something deep in your heart.”

Tigre reached up and touched his chest. “But... I don’t have anything there.”

“Maybe that’s...” Toyama wanted to say ‘for the best’ but he didn’t finish his sentence. “I have to go. You’re a student now, so you’re free to roam about as you like. Stay out of trouble. Okay?”

“Okay...” Tigre said meekly and watched Toyama walk towards the three sisters. Only Celeste wasn’t crying, she only looked extremely angry.

No one was happy, except for him.

He walked out to stare at the pouring rain in the entrance. He looked up at the sky that also seemed to be sad. But why? Those voices in his head were still ringing. He could recite every single word. But he whispered them, staying quiet. He continued to whisper those sacred words into the grey. They were still beautiful in his ears.

“Do you not have an umbrella?” 

His dampened mood rose again! “Chu Zihang!”

Without thinking he hugged the flinching man who just tolerated it. 

Tigre released him quickly. “Oh... I’m sorry.”

“It’s normal to be emotional after this. I’m happy you made it. The results will take a few hours to process, but Schneider sent me to congratulate you. He’s my mentor.” Chu Zihang’s eyes were dark and not the yellow he remembered.

“You wear contacts too.” Tigre realized.

“Yes. Toyama explained?” Chu Zihang raised his umbrella. It was large enough for both of them as they walked. He was calm like a granite stone. Tigre was a raw nerve of emotion.

“Yes. I remembered looking into your eyes and feeling something through them like what I heard today. No wonder I recognized you! You  really are my brother! But for the other students, they were very sad. I don’t... understand why...” He looked back at the Library that was shrouded in the rain.

“You’d have to ask them personally. I can’t speak for them. When my dragonblood awoke, I saw a very disturbing image myself. And then something tragic happened. So that memory is sad for me too.”

“Is that why its raining?” Tigre mumbled.

Zihang tilted his head. “I don’t think emotions can effect the weather. Though many people associate rain with sadness. In truth a tropical wave has been pushed up from the gulf by the jet stream.”

“Oh.” Was all Tigre should say, understanding nothing.

“You’re still shaken up. Let me get you something to eat. You’ll be hungry.” 

"Ah! You’re right! My stomach is growling a lot!” Tigre said in shock.

“You must have resonated very strongly. You were just standing there in the entrance to the library staring into space and now you didn’t realize you were hungry...”

“It was wonderful.” He breathed. “I wish I could listen to it again. I’ll listen to it forever.”

Chu Zihang glanced down at him and didn’t comment.

“Have you been out of the hospital long? Why didn’t you visit me?” Tigre bounced along deliberately splashing in the puddles.

“I was recovering still and then after that, Schneider kept me updated on your progress. I couldn’t visit you because visits were not permitted while you adjusted to life outside of prison.”

“Oh... we’re going to your dorm?” He asked recognizing the residential building. 

“Yes. I want to introduce you to a few of my friends. One of them, Lu Mingfei is also looking forward to seeing you.”

“Oh Okay... neat.”

Chu Zihang opened the door to the dorm and there were many people there! It was like a party! When he saw all these people. He was moved to tears again! He covered his eyes with his arm. “Sorry!”

One of them, a dark haired Chinese boy chuckled. “Don’t worry. Everyone cried at my 3E. You’re fine.”

Chu Zihang introduced him. “This is Lu Mingfei. He’s the president of the Student Union...”

“Kinda sorta... really I just kinda hang out here while other people do things for me.” He said bashfully.

A tall muscular blond grinned. “I’m Finger Von Frings.”

“And I’m Susie. Congratulations. Sounds like you passed.” She was a petite Chinese girl, making her the third Chinese in the group.

“I’m Zero. Pleasure.” Said a soft spoken blond girl with a Russian accent, who looked bored to be there.

“This is for you.” Chu Zihang handed him a small box covered in paper and a ribbon, like one of those Christmas gifts he’d seen in pictures.

“Thank you... can I open it?”

“If you want.” Chu Zihang mumbled.

Tigre pulled the ribbon and then opened the box after carefully shredding the paper. Inside was a brand new tablet computer. “It will be useful for studying.”

“Wow... thank you!” He laughed. Then he paused. “What is it?”

[nazumichi]

41 glimmadora

The house was cold, yet her arms were warm, protective and gentle around her. It was a rare night, a rare and special night, moon high and full in the sky, shining like a jewel. The moon was a friend, a bridge between one world and another, allowing the pair to reach each other, and cling onto each other in the night.

Adora buried her face in the soft fabric of the other girl’s nightdress, the faint scent of lavenders providing comfort.

This wouldn’t last forever, she knew.

Soon, the moon would sink and the sun would rise, and she’d have to bid farewell to her lover once more, to wait for the next full moon, and the comfort that came with it.

Despite her knowing, she couldn’t stop the sadness that came with Glimmer’s absence. She yearned to leave with her, to stay with her forevermore. The sudden gentle stroke of fingers through her hair drew her out of her reverie, causing her to look up at the other woman. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Glimmer said softly, a small smile on her lips. How Adora wished she could stay. To feel her warmth forever, to wake up beside her every morning.

The spirit must’ve noticed her somber silence. “What’s wrong?”

Adora found her hand, interlacing their fingers gently. “Well, I—“ the words died on her tongue, suddenly unable to form a sentence. “I—“ her breathing grew heavy, fast. Panic slowly set in, before hitting her all at once.

The sun would rise and vanquish the moon, taking Glimmer with it. Too soon, all too soon. Her eyes burned suddenly, vision blurring.

Soft hands moved to her face, wiping away tears gently, action causing Adora to tilt her head up to lock her gaze with Glimmer. “I—I want to leave with you,” she choked out, compelled by shining eyes and soft touches.

The other girl blanched, suddenly her turn to stutter. “A-are you sure? I mean you— we—“ she cut off with a little shake of her head, the sparkles in her hair shifting, like the night sky that Adora loved so.

The other girl suddenly grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer. “Adora, you need to listen to me,” she said, voice serious despite the occasional jitter. “Please, is this what you really want?”

Adora had never been more sure of anything in her life. “Yes,” she replied, cupping Glimmer’s face in her hands. “More than anything.”

A sudden beam of light filtered through the curtains, shifting slowly across the sheets, sending a jolt of panic through her. 

“Glim—“ 

“It’s ok! I’ll come back for you.”

Adora felt helpless, moving to hug the other girl tightly. And then she disappeared, in a shower of sparkles, nothing remaining of her but the faint smell of lavenders. 

——

The shining pinks were all too familiar.

Glimmer had spent years pent up in these walls, enduring the endless silence and mundane days. Her only escape was on the nights of the full moon, a time of freedom, to return to the other woman, down on Earth.

If she could stay, she would.

To stay in her presence forever, live a life of domestic bliss, another chance at life with her lover. But alas, rules and regulations had been put into place, barring her from ever leaving for too long.

Then again, she never had been one for rules.

So here she was now, standing in the throne room, dappled lights dancing on the floor.

A palace for the gods. Or her parents. Maybe there wasn’t much difference. She’d laid out her carefully constructed argument for her parents to scrutinise, to look over and hopefully give her what she wanted.

Silence was good, right?

Her mother looked somber as always, the heir that she used when talking to inferiors in place.

Glimmer was frankly offended.

Her father looked more at ease, rubbing his bearded chin, clearly deep in thought. They were both staring into the distance, occasionally turning to each other silently, locking blank gazes.

Glimmer wondered if they’d forgotten her.

A leap of faith; she cleared her throat. Their gazes snapped to her, dark eyes boring into her skull. “Has the jury decided?” She asked, hoping to use quips to swindle her father. 

He, predictable as ever, cracked a small smile, before his wife shook her head at him. 

“It has never been done before,” the older woman said, voice clear as crystal.

Glimmer loved her mother. Yet it was her unnecessary caution that annoyed her deeply. “But it can be done. Right?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet, jittery. 

“Well, yes—“ her father managed, before his wife shushed him, groaning rather unprofessionally as he shrugged. “Honesty is key, my angel.”

The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It can be done, but should it? Some power shouldn’t be utilised, Glimmer, Micah,” she said her husband’s name with a withering scowl. 

“I was only being honest—“ 

“it was simply a nuisance—“ 

“but she has the right to—“

Glimmer felt a sudden burst of rage deep in her chest, forcing her to take action. “HEY!” 

The royal pair stopped immediately, eyes moving to her, signalling her to speak. 

“I don’t care if you give me your royal blessing or whatever,” she said, gesturing furiously. “I just want to be with her! Rules be damned!” The briefness of her words yet the bitterness and anger that the carried shocked her, and her parents too, clearly.

The royals were silent, gazes locked onto her.

And then her mother stood, descending the shining steps to her daughter below with elegance. Glimmer crossed her arms tightly, ready to launch into another flurry of angry words.

She suddenly blanched, as her mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Rules be damned,” she repeated.

——

Adora felt exhausted. A constant gong was pounding in her head, drowning out any thoughts. She missed Glimmer. A hole in her heart, a piece missing from her life.

The sun would shine from above, mocking.

The moon was dull during her sleepless nights, no longer shining and brilliant. She missed the warmth Glimmer gave her, the comfort and love.

The suns rays, shining against her back, burning. The sky was sapphire blue, stretching for miles and miles in every direction.

She wished Glimmer was here, to sit beside her in the green and grassy fields. She’d comment on the flowers and weave her a crown. They’d lay there together, in the sun, drowsy from the pollen and sound of the wind gently stirring the leaves of the trees.

And Adora felt her eyes burn.

Why?

Why couldn’t things be normal?

It was so unfair.

A sob burst in her throat, burying her head in her arms, hugging herself tightly. All so unfair.

And then a hand rested between her shoulder blades, causing her to jump. She whirled around, a gasp leaving her throat. 

“G-glimmer! How—“ she scrambled for words, finding none.

But maybe that was ok. Maybe words didn’t matter, as she pulled the other girl into her arms, her softness grounding her. And everything was fine.

[lady-annie-bee]

Peter Parker x Reader soulmate au!

Au where when your soulmate sings a song, it gets stuck in your head, and when they sing a duet, you're stuck singing the alternate part

***

Ever since he was young, Peter Parker's soulmate has been dragging him into duet after duet. There was a lot of Disney a lot of Broadway classics; everything she insisted on singing he didn't know but could somehow still sing along (however bad) to. As he got older and her talent grew, he couldn't help but marvel at her angelic voice. Which is why he dubbed her "Angel" in his head.

Peter never really sang to himself. Sometimes, if Led Zepplen or something was on, he'd sing along to that. Usually, though, there was no need. His Angel of Music was almost always singing, and he didn't mind listening or singing along.

Well, that was until he was stalking some petty thieves only to suddenly break out into song.

All my life has been a series of doors in my face, and then suddenly I bump into you! Her melodic voice came through.

Peter felt a jolt of panic as he recognized the song.

"I was thinking the same thing!" Peter said as he quickly figured a plan of attack.

One thief looked up as Spider-Man swung into the group, catching them by surprise.

Peter shot a few webs at the first one, tying his legs to a bike rack, "'Cause like, I've been searching my whole life to find my own place. And maybe it's the party talking or the chocolate fondue!" He hit the back of his head to knock him unconscious.

Peter grunted as a thug punched his stomach, but he shot a web at the guys fists and glued him to the building wall.

But with you!

"But with you! I found my place."

"Gah!" A thug cried, after Peter elbowed them in the face.

I see your face!

"And it's nothing like I've ever known before..."

There were two beats of silence, only disturbed by everyone's heavy breathing.

"Love is an open door!"

Peter swung around and kicked one of the remaining two in the chest, using the body to propel himself forward and tackle the other guy.

"Love is an open door!"

The other remaining thug got out his knife and headed to cut one of his buddies down, but Peter saw and and glued the man's hand and knife to the building wall.

"Love is an open door,"

With you

"With you"

With you

"With you!"

"Love is an open door." Peter panted, all the thugs, tied up and unconscious. His work here was done.

He swung home that day singing the rest of the song. Hoping the wind wouldn't carry his voice to the streets below.

***

"Hello, I'm your new neighbor!"

A beautiful girl had knocked on his door, introducing herself. Her voice had a lift to it, as if she was trained in speaking.

"Uh, right. I'm Park- er, Peter Parker,"

It seemed odd for a New Yorker to do this, he thought.

"I'm (Y/N) Wayne, it's nice to meet you!" She smiled and he found himself struggling to breathe. "Where do you go to school?"

Peter couldn't help but smile back, "I go to Midtown, a school of science."

She pouted her lips, clearly dissapointed about something.

"I'm going to the music school around here, Frank Sinatra? There sure are a lot of schools in Queens."

Peter quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah, I guess there are... Did you want to come in?"

(Y/N) nodded and followed him to the living room couch.

Peter quietly got her a glass of water, making sure the cup looked clean, before shyly handing it to her. Their hands touched for a moment and he could've sworn a shock passed through him.

"So you just moved," at her nod, he continued, "where from?"

***

Peter walked into his favorite coffee shop, ordering a large coffee. He had an essay due tomorrow as well as patrol tonight, and would be needing the caffiene.

I know you, I've walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

A quiet little hum filled Peter's head.

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.

It was clear to him that she was in public, where singing as loud as she could was looked down upon.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

His soulmate continued humming the next part of the song, which had no real words. And a little ways off, he saw his new neighbor, and figured he'd walk over to say hello.

I know you, I've walked with you once upon a dream.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.

The closer he got to her, the louder the voice in his head got. Which he found odd, it wasn't like his soulmate was in Queens.

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once-

"The way you did once," Peter found himself compelled to join her. "Upon a dream."

"Is my heart supposed to be racing this fast? I can't tell if it's you, or the three shots of espresso in my last cup of coffee."

***

His Angel found him, bloodied and knocking on her window. They had been dating for a few months now.

"...Spiderman?"

Peter pulled off his mask, "No, Angel, it's me." He bit back a groan, everything hurt.

She stared at him for a second, disbelieving, "Peter?"

"Yes, please help."

She shook her head and got to work, pulling him out of her balcony and into her room.

"I can't tell you how angry I am right now," she pulled a first aid kit from her desk, "I get hurt a lot in dance, that's why I have this."

"I'm sorry," Peter said, "I didn't-"

She cut him off with a glare, "Don't you dare say that you kept this from me for my own good, I've had enough of that to last a lifetime."

He would have to ask her about that later, when he wasn't in pain.

Peter stopped her for a second, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my selfish actions got you hurt."

She teared up, "When you say it like that..."

A lightbulb in Peter's head sent off, he had an idea that could cheer his Angel up.

"They made you cry. But that will end tonight." He sounded awful, which was fine. He didn't need to be a Broadway actor, just needed to convey his point.

She blinked away more tears.

"You are the only thing that's right about this broken world.

Go on and cry"

She let out a chocked sob.

"But when the morning comes

We'll burn it down and then

We'll build the world again

Our love is God"

She gave him a tearful smile, it was radiant.

"Are you okay?" Her voice trembled, the first time he heard it do that. Usually she was so strong.

"I was alone

I was a frozen lake

But then you melted me awake

See, now I'm crying too

You're not alone"

She gently held his face, tainting her pure hands. "You're not alone"

"And when the morning comes."

"When the morning comes."

"We'll burn away that tear, and raise our city here."

"Raise our city here."

"Our love is God."

All gentleness was gone, and his Angel broke down into mire tears and swiftly embraced him, Peter held himself back from groaning in pain.

"You'll, ruin your clothes. With my blood."

She cried, "I don't care!"

And that was that.

***

Bonus:

A day after Peter came bleeding to his soulmates window, he recalled something she said. They were hanging out in his living room, she was laying down on his couch and he on her stomach.

"Hey, what did you mean by what you said yesterday?"

"I said a lot of things Peter, you'll have to be more specific."

Peter rolled his eyes, "You told me 'I've had enough of that to last a lifetime' referring to me keeping secrets from you."

"Oh, well, since we're being honest. My dad is Batman."

"Wait, what?!"

*insert zesty zinger here*

[cv-nobody-and-associates]

Nobody Wants to Know

Part III – Veldra

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Nobody approached the cloaked figure of a ghostly humanoid that resided in an empty white void. It was once a grand world, full of magic and technology and dedicated souls that helped to make the most of those forces. But alas, it’s time had long since passed. The world had been ravaged by endless war long before Nobody had arrived.

And then she was told to end it. To end the entire world.

At the time, Nobody didn’t hesitate. She didn’t think about it, chose not to perceive its people as living, feeling individuals. She only saw targets, only saw their deaths as statistics that added towards a completed job. The woman she was meeting now was the first time that her attitude changed, resulting in her showing mercy.

“You’ve grown.” The voice of Oira spoke within Nobody’s mind, the two now being capable of more open communication. “I’m telling you; you can be a good person. That’s still how I see you, even after all you’ve done.”

Nobody didn’t respond. The humanoid turned to face her, revealing the once beautiful face of a woman, now adorned with red burn scars across her face. She had short black hair in bangs and golden eyes that glared at Nobody harshly.

“You…” She hissed. Nobody didn’t flinch. She understood the woman’s anger. “Is it not enough that you leave me in this empty hell, with nothing but my demons for company? You must come to taunt me as well?” Nobody sighed.

“That’s not why I’m here, Lorekeeper.” She admitted. “Honestly, I just want to talk.” Lorekeeper laughed, a shrill sound that permeated the area.

“What makes you think I would entertain your dialogue?”

“Do you have anything else to do in here?” Nobody joked, perhaps a bit harshly. “I can always come back another time if you’re busy.” There was a pause, and Nobody was almost certain that combat would break out, but eventually Lorekeeper sighed.

“Sit then, Nobody the first.” She gestured for her to sit, and Nobody dutifully did so. She considered patting the ground and inviting her host to sit down as well, but the fact that said host was a ghost with no legs quickly made her reconsider.

“I come to you in search of advice.” Nobody began. Lorekeeper raised an eyebrow. “And perhaps some assistance, if you happen to be agreeable. Your expertise with demons and soul magic would be most helpful.”

Lorekeeper drifted closer to Nobody, circling her carefully. “There are others.” She said, and Nobody nodded in response.

“I’m told there are two of them in here.” Nobody said, tapping her head with her fist a few times. She wasn’t sure if her inner companions resided in any specific area of her being, so this was more for effect than anything else. “I’ve met one, and apparently I should be expecting the other soon.”

“Very soon.” Lorekeeper confirmed. “I would estimate you have mere hours, perhaps less, before they become active.” She narrowed her eyes. “This is why you chose to come here, is it not? Your desire to converse is merely a cover.”

Nobody shrugged in response. “Only partially. I do seek to talk, but I also knew that this place had nothing to be damaged.” She explained. Lorekeeper crossed her arms, to which Nobody sighed. “I know, I know, but you’re more than capable of holding your own if things turn sour.”

“And you think that makes it acceptable to bring unwanted dangers to my home?”

“I thought you’d enjoy the chance to attack me.” Nobody said light-heartedly. “Well, not me technically, but the same body. Would revenge against me not satisfy you?”

“Tempting, but unlike you, I take little pleasure from violence.” Lorekeeper said, shaking her head in an annoyed fashion.

“I don’t recall ever claiming to take joy in what happened here.” Nobody protested. Lorekeeper laughed, an unpleasant and high-pitched sound like that which would shatter a glass.

“Do not take me for a fool, Nobody the first.” She glared. “You fight because it brings you joy first, and because you have to second. I saw as you tore through this world, as you destroyed cities. You took my children’s lives with a smile.” She hissed bitterly.

Nobody couldn’t recall much of that time. Had she really smiled because it brought her joy to kill and destroy?

“That’s a lie!” Oira protested from within Nobody. “That lady has no idea what she-” Lorekeeper cut her off.

“DO NOT QUESTION MY MEMORY, CHANGELING.” She yelled. “YOU DID NOT SEE THE BODIES OF YOUR CHILDREN BURNT AND BLEEDING ON THE STREETS.”

“You can hear her?”

“Of course I can, Nobody the first.” She waved her hand dismissively. “My understanding of souls is greater than even your Void associates. I know of gods and monsters that elude even your ever wandering eye. Is this not why you kept me alive?” She raised an eyebrow, as though expecting Nobody to agree.

“Nope.”

“Nope?” Lorekeeper repeated, seeming surprised. “What do you mean? If not for my uses, what compelled you to spare me in the first place?”

“You overestimate my memory, Nobody the second.” Nobody shook her head casually. Lorekeeper seemed to tense, annoyed by the title she had been addressed as. “This is part of why I came in search of your advice.”

“Then cease your trivial chatter and get to the point.” Lorekeeper said. “I am losing my patience, as is the other within you.”

“She’s right.” Oira added. “V’s getting up. It’s…a little unsettling.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Nobody responded mentally before returning her attention to Lorekeeper.

“These other souls within my form are a part of me.” Nobody began explaining. “I have reason to believe I was formed from their combination, in fact. Oira seems to see me as good, something she herself seems to embody. With this in mind, I believe that the second will be a more negative sort. Perhaps evil, or perhaps simply not good.” Her body tensed.

It seemed it was time.

“Finish your statement quickly.” Lorekeeper ordered. Whether or not she was concerned for Nobody or herself was unclear, but she was clearly distressed. “We do not have much time.”

“If one is good…” Nobody managed, being forced to her knees by a powerful force within her body. Her mind felt like it was being torn away, forcefully being overtaken by another. It felt strong.

And angry.

“And the other is evil…” She forced out. Her body shifted, with long runic lines forming across its usually featureless form. Her question mark face was flickering, and with it her limited vision was being consumed by darkness.

“Then what the hell am I on my own?!”

Nobody’s vision vanished, and she lost control.

Lorekeeper was flung back by a sharp burst of energy exploding outward from the body that was once Nobody. Her eyes were forced shut as she tried to maintain some sense of balance. However, when her eyes opened her surroundings were quite different.

Gone was the empty white landscape, and in its place was a verdant forest with tall and thick trees sitting upon a ground of stone and moss. The skies above were blood red with clouds of ash black all illuminated by a pale-yellow moon.

“This���isn’t right.” Lorekeeper said in awe. “This world hasn’t been restored, but you have brought life to it. Some kind of energy burst from your transformation?” Lorekeeper was left with little time to speculate as a clawed hand leapt out at her face, nearly adding to her collection of scars. She dodged swiftly, floating around the attack.

The attacker possessed clawed hands and feet, and a black body with intricate white lines all across in patterns like a circuit. Upon its head was a rhombus shape and a metallic helmet, with four points at all sides to create a star-like image.

“So,” She spoke whilst dodging several more slashes and strikes, each one wilder and fiercer than the last. “You must be the evil one. Do you have a name?” The attacker managed to land a hit, and Lorekeeper was left gasping at the force that managed to launch her through the trees.

“Veldra.” It growled. “Name was Veldra. I survive!” It called out, charging forward again. Lorekeeper acted quickly, forcing out a mystical barrier spell. A golden transparent wall appeared in front of her. It was one of her specialty spells. She recalled how it had almost stopped Nobody the first time the two fought. She had only grown stronger with her spells since then, so she had little doubt she would at least have time to charge a proper attack.

She was wrong.

Veldra tore through the barrier like it was nothing, grabbing onto Lorekeeper’s face. Its hand burnt the flesh around her already scarred face, but not enough for more scars to form. Certainly enough to make her scream though.

It rammed her through a tree before planning her head firmly in the ground. Lorekeeper felt the had heat up even more and realised it was charging a blast, so in retaliation she forced it off her face before flying upwards into the treeline.

“You are strong, I admit.” She took a few breaths as she spoke, making a few hand gestures in preparation for a powerful spell. “But you cannot defeat me!” She cried, launching a pulsing green beam down at Veldra.

Veldra raised their hand, and it shifted from a clawed hand to a shield. They were clearly forced back by the blast, but not nearly as much as Lorekeeper had hoped. The shield inverted, seeming to absorb most of the blast. When the beam was done, Veldra had a ghastly green glow.

It leapt up into the sky, but this time Lorekeeper was ready. She flung her arms out and fired off a series of purple strings that lashed at the attacker. They cut its flesh, forcing out a black liquid that fell to the ground before burning the surface beneath it. Still, Veldra wasn’t slowing down.

In moments it was above Lorekeeper’s head. She barely had time to look up before she was forcefully kicked back down to the ground, a crater forming at the point of impact. As Veldra fell back to the ground it launched a series of green bolts of energy down at Lorekeeper, forcing her to dance between the trees for cover.

Veldra impacted the ground with a sharp thud. It stood and looked around for a moment. Lorekeeper positioned herself behind a tree to hide and collect herself.

“Called me evil.” Veldra spoke in a rough and coarse voice. “I am no evil. I survive. I kill only to survive. You are threat.”

“If you only act in self-defence, we need not fight one another.” Lorekeeper used a simple illusion to make her voice echo across the forest, confusing Veldra. “But I suspect that’s not all. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Veldra snarled in response.

“I survive.” Veldra said. “In battle, I prove I survive. Others don’t. They are weak. Must be. I escape because of strength. I enjoy being strong. I enjoy proving others weak.” A beam of white energy burst forth from Veldra’s head, and it tore through much of the forest, burning the trees away to stumps.

“How cruel.” Lorekeeper rose into the air once more. Veldra gazed up, but did not attack. “You justify cruelty with self-preservation, even against those who aren’t a threat.”

“WE HAVE NO CHOICE!” Veldra cried out. It sounded almost sad, a bitter tone leaking into its words. “Freedom is beyond all of us! We kill, or we die. We are erased. I cannot choose. I only attack. I hope for the strong. I find only the weak. She cannot choose either.” It was referring to Nobody, Lorekeeper realised.

“She tries. She is punished. We suffer. Pain of world is nothing compared to him.” Veldra seethed. Its body was shaking. “She is forced. Forced to kill, taught to enjoy. I go along, because I understand. I know what awaits.”

“I am evil,” Veldra said. “I cannot survive otherwise. I am cruel. No other way. Tried before. Failed before.” It jumped up, finally readying its claws for another attack.

“If evil helps survival, I embrace it!” It roared. Fortunately, its speech had given Lorekeeper a chance to finish the preparations for a very advanced spell.

“NOW!” She called out, and a golden net appeared around Veldra, before forming a solid cube of energy like a cage. Veldra hit the bars roughly and cried out in pain.

“What…” Veldra’s form began to change, its face flickering and the lines across its body fading. “is…this…?” It collapsed, barely able to stay conscious.

“Soul Siphon spell.” She explained, not that Veldra was in any state to listen. “It shall weaken your soul, forcing it back. Nobody was much easier to deal with.”

It was several hours before Nobody awoke. The cage had dissipated, and she clutched head carefully as she stood. Her cane slipped cleanly out of her arm, and she used it to steady herself.

“You were definitely on the right track.”

Nobody turned to see Lorekeeper seemingly leaning on a tree. She tilted her head in confusion, and Lorekeeper sighed.

“The two within you. Oira and Veldra. Each one informs aspects of you.” She explained. “Veldra is… evil might not be the right word, but certainly not good. You two seem to share some similar views. A willingness to do anything to survive.”

“Well, at least I know it won’t be a danger to me.” Nobody nodded. “But is it the source of that drive to live? Is Oira? What part of me is truly myself, and what is simply them bleeding over into me?” Lorekeeper sighed again, though in more of a sad tone than an annoyed one.

“Those are questions I cannot answer. You would have to find someone who understands more what it is to be yourself. Perhaps the next stop on your journey?” Lorekeeper suggested. Nobody thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure if Vessel is quite ready for something like this, but she is the final Nobody I know of.” She said. “I shall go to her once I have recovered.”

“You shall leave now.” Lorekeeper declared. She summoned a portal beneath Nobody, who clung to the ground in order to avoid completely falling through. “I am sorry, but I wish to be alone. I cannot stop you from returning another time.”

“Before I go…” Nobody struggled to speak, but some things simply had to be said before she left.

“Sorry.”

And with that, she vanished into the portal. Lorekeeper wore the smallest of smiles.

“I suppose for closure, that will have to suffice.”

--- END ---

AN: Finally, the other piece of Nobody revealed! Veldra is a Void Demon that narrowly escaped a fate worse than death, known as erasure. It was damaged, but managed to bond itself to Oira’s soul, which created Nobody. Veldra uses both it/its and they/them pronouns. You may have noticed how they talk a little oddly, sticking to short sentences. This is both because Veldra is a damaged soul and because it speaks a different first language than most of the other characters. Most everyone else speaks a language that I’ll call Common for now. Most multiversal beings speak it as a second language, some as a first.

I hope you enjoy this! I really wanted to get this done before the next CV event, and I think I just about managed. Nobody’s still got a few things to do before heading back though.

Oh, and if anyone is curious, Nobody the Lorekeeper is an old character of mine from a story called The War of the Travelling Sun, or TWOTTS for short. A bunch of other people were also involved, but I stuck to using exclusively the parts I was responsible for, making it so this version of the world was destroyed to reflect how I deleted the old Tumblr blog for the story. I didn’t want to use anything more than what I had made.

That’s all for now! Hope to see you all next time, as we reach the conclusion of this little trilogy and move on to the future!

[poppy-pelican]

Darkness on Fire (Chapter 3)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692747/chapters/65866213#workskin

Chapter 3: Mustang and Hawkeye escort the Elrics to what they hope is a safe place.

Roy went back to bed while Hawkeye stayed awake. They were all unnerved after sending Dr. Rockbell home with a vial of blood to give to the rest of his family just in case they had been compelled, too. Hawkeye promised to keep watch so the vampires could sleep. She seemed well, full of vitality, thanks to his blood. It was more than he could say for himself. She’d taken a bit too much from him. He drank some animal blood before going back to bed, but it was unappetizing when he was craving hers so badly.

As he slept, he dreamt of being wrapped in sheets, Hawkeye’s bare skin, his fangs deep in her throat. He woke up with a gasp, his cock hard, fangs elongated. It took him a few minutes to orient himself to where he was, not in his comfortable basement apartment, but in Hohenheim’s study. Roy was grateful Hawkeye wasn’t in the room—and the temptation to have one off quickly was there, but with two impressionable boys around, he stewed in misery instead.

This assignment had gone to shit, fast. As he dressed, he realized why his dreams were plagued with images of Hawkeye. He had given her his blood, and for vampires that was as good as attaching a piece of your soul with them. He’d given his blood to his aunt, and a few others he had fed from, and he could sense them distantly. But Hawkeye was in the same house, tantalizingly close.

Downstairs Ed and Al were complaining to each other because they weren’t allowed to say goodbye to Winry or the rest of the Rockbells.

The moment Roy caught sight of Hawkeye, scrubbing her bloody shirt in the sink, his fangs descended, his whole body tuning toward her. He made sure to keep his mouth shut and went to grab more animal blood. He poured it into a glass, and Trisha swung by and offered him some wine.

“It helps it go down easier,” she said.

“Having more already?” Hawkeye asked, eyes crinkling in concern. “Did I take too much?”

“You’d been stabbed. I think you took what was necessary,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. She would worry too much otherwise. Her guilt about his vampirism was greater than it should be, especially considering how much he enjoyed his new lifestyle. Sure, burning to a crisp in the sun was a major sacrifice, but it was manageable most of the time.

“Hmm,” was all she said in reply, going back to her shirt. “I might have to call this done for. Even if I could fix the hole, this blood is not coming out.”

Roy took a final swig of what he was going to call sheep wine and ignored the urge to offer to suck the blood out of her shirt. He admonished himself. He wasn’t even thirsty in the usual way. It could be compared to wanting a dessert, delicious but not essential.

“Let me see if I can’t find something else to try. The boys are always staining their clothes,” Trisha said, disappearing to search upstairs.

“I think I might have a quick look around in town before we leave,” Roy said to Hawkeye. “I shouldn’t be gone more than half an hour.” If possible, it would be easiest to take the Elrics to a safe house Hohenheim owned by train, although he assumed the station would be watched—Selim would expect it.

“You’re too thirsty to go burning energy like that,” Hawkeye pointed out. “You’ve only had animal blood after giving me a lot of yours. You know how you get.”

“Well, this town doesn’t exactly have a wide selection of willing humans. And Hohenheim would kill me if I asked Trisha…though it would hold me over a lot longer.” As it always did with vampire blood. He needed human blood at least once a month, preferably once a week, to keep him at full strength. When he acted as a donor it was more frequent. Vampire blood could sate his thirst for twice as long.

“You could drink from me. Just this once,” she said, holding up a finger in warning. “Since you gave me some of yours earlier. It’s only fair.”

“But you were just hurt.” His hunger told him to shut up and go for it. It was exactly what he wanted.

“And I feel twice as healthy as normal. I can spare some.” She dropped her wet shirt into the sink, drying her hands on a towel.

“I shouldn’t—”

His fangs betrayed him, descending with thirsty enthusiasm. He covered his mouth as she gave him a smug smile.

“Go ahead.” She rolled her eyes at his hesitation. “Just because I don’t want to be a regular donor doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”

“I know.” That wasn’t why he held back. The last time he’d tasted her blood, he’d wanted to rut against her like an animal. But that was different, he reminded himself. He had better control now, more practice.

“Wrist or…neck?” she asked.

He shouldn’t. There was a reason he always drank from the wrist.

“Neck,” he said lowly, the words flying out before he could stop them. So much for control.

She pulled her hair to the side, revealing the beautiful curve of her neck. Before he could second guess himself, he cradled her head and shoulder, holding her in place. She gasped at the suddenness, and he heard the warm, wet gushing in her heart pick up speed.

He bit down, taking care to ease his fangs in gently.

She’d always smelled better than anyone else to him. He wondered if it was because her blood initiated him into this lifestyle. It was overwhelming, flavors and feelings pulsing through him rapidly. He usually hurried to drink and leave, but he slowed down his pulls to savor each flow of liquid across his tongue. Why was it so good? Would she let him do this again? God, he hoped so.

He couldn’t stop himself. The quietest moan escaped him, and suddenly it was just like the first time. He was unbearably aroused—almost senseless. He wanted to bury his cock inside her while he fed from her, something he had always thought was overkill. He grunted, biting down the tiniest bit harder.  Her breath hitched, and he wanted to grind against her, but he held himself in check, remembering the Elric brothers in the next room—and Trisha upstairs.

Caving to one last taste, he released her with a gasp, licking the wound closed out of habit. Hawkeye shivered against him and he leaned back just enough to gauge her reaction. Her amber eyes were soft, pupils blown wide, and her steady heartbeat danced just a little faster. He wanted to kiss her, but he was also a coward.

“Better than the sheep wine, that’s for sure,” he said, breaking the tension. He didn’t want to let on how turned on he was.

“Sheep wine?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to know.”

 #

 Roy sprinted to town as soon as it was dark enough and found several humans standing suspiciously still and quiet near the train station, positioned at every entrance. They were waiting.

He expected it, but Hawkeye wasn’t going to like it. This meant they would have to cut across the country on foot to the next town over.

Returning to the Elric house, Roy gave Riza the bad news. She sighed. “Well, I better go consolidate our bags—two bags will be too cumbersome if I have to be carried.” She held up an angry finger. “On your back.”

Roy laughed, his smile lingering until he took his post outside to keep watch. He settled under the tree, checking his gun and his gloves.

It wasn’t long before Ed appeared.

“Riza is not happy about this,” Ed informed him. “She told Mom it makes her feel like an invalid.”

“Well, to make it to our destination before sunrise, it’s what we have to do. She knows that,” Roy explained, watching the boy in amusement. Ed was fidgeting—tugging his braid, tucking his hands in and out of his pockets.

“Why is she still human?” Ed asked out of the blue. “She has your blood in her. Why don’t you just snap her neck and keep her forever?”

Roy choked. “What?”

“Riza,” Ed clarified, as if Roy just hadn’t known who he meant.

“Turning someone…isn’t a science. It fails almost as often as it succeeds.” And Roy had no plans to live forever. He would step into the sun when the time was right. Immortality had no appeal to him. Hawkeye’s own thoughts on immortality were…murky. She once said being a vampire was better than being dead, but he wasn’t sure she thought it was better than being alive and human. Going out into the sun.

Roy wouldn’t say vampirism was superior to humanity, but if he could choose to return to being a human, it would be a difficult choice.  Blood was divine—Hawkeye’s was especially intoxicating. Smells were stronger, but not in a bad way. It made things interesting. And with the difference in his vision and senses, the moon felt as warm as the sun had when he was human. Regular food tasted better, too. He didn’t need as much anymore, but what he did eat was a full explosion of flavors, even if it was just a simple tomato off the vine. The increased strength and speed were undoubtedly his favorite though.

Ed must have been deep in thought too because he said, “That must be why Dad says I can’t go around changing all my friends into vampires when I’m older.”

Roy held back a laugh. “Probably not the best idea, no.”

“But…I don’t want to live forever without Winry.” Ed sighed. “Don’t you feel that way about Riza? You guys are best friends, right?”

A dark something twisted in Roy’s gut.

“Yes, best friends. I’ve known her since she was about your age.” Back when her best friend was a dog, and Roy’s best friend was his alchemy studies.

Berthold Hawkeye was a brilliant man, but a mediocre father. He’d been fearful of vampires ever since his wife was killed by one, and his research in flame alchemy was born from his desire to destroy vampires. It had taken precedence over everything in his life, even raising Riza. But Berthold loved his daughter, and Roy guessed that some of his obsession in finding a weapon against vampires came from the need to keep her safe. Roy had been tossed out of the house when he’d argued making peace with vampires was for the good of all, but when his master was dying…he had asked Roy to protect her.

  #

 An underground tunnel beneath the house had been as much a surprise to Edward and Alphonse as it had to Riza and Mustang. Trisha had given a nervous smile as she uncovered a secret opening in the closet floor.

“Wow!” the boys cheered, jumping down into the dirt, bags over their shoulders. Riza was much less enthused, but grateful they could leave the house unseen from the outside.

“Hohenheim has been working on these since he turned me,” Trisha said. “About fifteen years ago.”

“This is the best trip ever!” Al said, his voice muffled inside the tunnel.

Trisha dropped down next. “Boys, don’t run ahead. There are some dead ends your father constructed on purpose. You’ll get lost on your own and wind up in Xing or someplace.”

“Al’s right. This is kind of fun,” Mustang said, grinning at Riza as he took their bag and leapt into the tunnel. Riza was last. She peered down the opening. It was a farther drop than it looked. Of course, Hohenheim built it with vampires in mind, not a petite human.

“Is there a ladder?” she asked, without hope for an affirmative.

“Just slide down on your stomach and I’ll catch you,” Mustang said.

And probably get an unflattering view of her backside, she thought sourly, but she did as instructed, aware that dropping straight to the floor would likely sprain her ankles if Mustang missed.

“Ugh,” she said, fighting the urge to kick her legs for a foothold the farther down she went.

She felt Mustang’s hands steady her, easing her descent. Then things went in a different direction as she lowered herself more. His hands ran up her legs, across her hips, until she was on the ground pressed against him, chest to chest. Oh, that was—

He released her with a nervous chuckle, practically shoving her away.

“See? Simple,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, taking in the tunnel before them. It was pitch black. “I won’t be able to see a thing.”

Mustang snapped his fingers, illuminating the long tunnel before them. He also lit a candle Trisha was suddenly holding.

“You’ll still have to be carried,” he told her, “but any light will just blow out.”

Riza understood. Not only did she have to be carried like a child, she had to do it while blind. She couldn’t shoot in the dark.

“I can’t remember the last time I rode on someone’s back,” she groused, as the boys giggled at her predicament.

“Just hop on!” Al said encouragingly. He demonstrated by tackling his older brother, then squeezing his neck in a pretend chokehold while Ed dramatically gasped for air.

“I hate being such a burden,” Riza said, but as Mustang squatted down, she winked at the boys and ran at him, pretending to choke him just as Al had done to Ed. She grinned as they laughed—even Trisha’s worry lines fading as Mustang acted like he was going to drop her. He recognized what Riza wanted to do for the family: put them at ease.

“I’ve given you a piggyback ride before, you know,” Mustang said. “You must’ve been twelve because I was about sixteen. You sprained your ankle and couldn’t walk home from school,” he said.

“Oh! I forgot. That might have been the last time I did this.” She’d been in too much pain to have any fun with the experience back then.

“And here we are again,” he said fondly, except when he gave her thighs a friendly squeeze, it made her heart race in a very non-platonic way.

The rest of the run through the tunnel was as unpleasant as she expected. Her human body wasn’t made for being jostled at high speeds, and her teeth were clenched together to keep from biting her tongue. No matter how careful Mustang was, he could not cushion her perfectly. Worse, being totally blind meant she could only concentrate on her other senses. The smell of Mustang’s aftershave, the way his large hands adjusted his grip on her thighs whenever he took a turn or ran down a steep slope, the warmth of his back…

Forcing those thoughts from her mind, she concentrated on alternate routes to the safe house in Central Trisha wanted to go to.

They finally stopped at an exit, which was as bad as the entrance at the Elric home. This time Trisha gave Riza a boost while Mustang pulled her up. Out of the tunnel, they found themselves under a bridge that reached over a wide creek—which explained the earthy-fish smell that had appeared in the tunnel.

“I know my way around, so I’ll go check the train station. They have a midnight train we could still catch,” Trisha said.

“Mom,” Ed started to protest, but she blew her sons a kiss and vanished. Mustang didn’t have time to argue either.

“It’s probably for the best. You’ve never been here before,” Riza said. “And leaving me with the boys in the dark—” She shrugged.

“Yes, you’re right,” Mustang said. “If your mother takes longer than thirty minutes,” he addressed the boys, “I’ll go after her.”

“At least the tunnels were fun,” Al said optimistically. “I wonder why Mom and Dad didn’t tell us?”

“To keep you quiet about it. You know you can’t keep a secret,” Ed teased.

“Yes, I can!”

While the boys began listing the various secrets the other had spilled over the years, Mustang turned to Riza.

“We might have to separate,” he said. “You could go with the boys to the safe house. Travel in the daytime.”

“Only if we have to,” Riza said, but his logic was sound. She was torn between her responsibility to watch over Mustang versus the family. She could not protect them all.

 #

 When Trisha returned, she was running at full tilt, her dress flying behind her. Roy heard her arriving before the others, so he leapt to attention, nudging Hawkeye.

“Quick,” Trisha whispered urgently. “Back to the tunnel!”

The boys dropped in first, followed by Trisha, Roy made the executive decision to grab Hawkeye and leap down with her in his arms. He could tell it was a rough landing, but she only grunted.

“We need to seal the entrance with alchemy,” Roy said. Ed was quick, concentrating for a moment before clapping. With a brief glow, it was done.

“Now we run. They can probably still hear us down here,” Hawkeye said, wiggling out of Roy’s arms. He was momentarily confused as she kept her hands on him, fingers tracing across his chest and arms, before he realized she couldn’t see in the darkness and was trying to climb on his back. He helped her up, reveling in the sensation of her arms around his neck. She smelled good, and his fangs, wildly misbehaving on this assignment, were aching to sink into her veins.

They kept a brisk pace until the boys tired and needed a more human speed. Roy could feel Hawkeye’s relief as she relaxed against him.

“I could walk,” she said, and he heard the sluggishness in her voice. He wondered how much sleep she’d managed the past few days.

“Stay put,” he said. “If we need to take off, you’re already in position.”

The group remained quiet, fearing anyone following them would overhear them. Trisha led the way—only she knew where they were going.

It was almost sunrise when they neared the other safe house’s entrance, stopping far enough out that their presence wouldn’t be noticed.

“A friend lives here,” Trisha said. “Well, Van’s friend. I haven’t been able to meet him much. He doesn’t know about the boys.”

That wasn’t ideal. “Can you trust him?”

“Van believes so. And they have an agreement about the tunnels. Barry can come to our home as easily as we can go to his in an emergency. It’s been a couple of years and he’s never abused it. He’s one of only a few who have direct access.”

Roy clutched Hawkeye closer. He wasn’t sure how he felt about introducing an unknown vampire to his very human companion.

“How about Hawkeye stays back with the boys while we introduce ourselves?” Roy suggested.

“Good idea,” Trisha said.

Roy reluctantly put Hawkeye down, guiding her to sit beside the boys. He got the candle Trisha had brought along, setting it up in front of them with a snap of his fingers.

“Can we eat something?” Al asked. “I’m so hungry.”

“Just wait until I get back. I have some snacks in the bag,” Trisha said.

“And what if Dad’s friend doesn’t let us in?” Ed asked.

“Then we sleep in the tunnels. It will be like camping,” Trisha said, forcing a smile.

No one wanted to sleep in the cramped tunnels. It wasn’t even wide enough for two people to walk comfortably side by side. Not to mention the many little creatures who had made their home here.

It was with this concern in mind that Roy and Trisha hurried down the tunnel. Unlike the other exits they had passed, this one had a heavy door with an elaborate “S” carved into the wood—an old symbol for vampires to know they could find shelter there. Trisha forced open the trap door. Roy watched from below, ready to snap.

“Hello!” a grating voice cheered from above. “Trisha, my beauty, is that you?”

“You shameless flirt,” she said, flustered.

A stocky man with wild, stringy hair peered down at them.

“And who’s this guy? You cheating on my man Van?” Barry asked, his voice teasing. Then he inhaled deeply, his eyes focusing on Roy. “And you have a tasty smelling human with you. And…two others?”

Roy was impressed with Barry’s sense of smell, but very displeased with his description of Hawkeye. Even if he agreed.

“We’re in a bit of a bind,” Trisha said, letting Barry hoist her out of the tunnel. Roy pulled himself out, keeping an eye on Barry. The tunnel connected to a small, messy wine cellar. There was more wine than it could contain, and the bottles had been lined in tight rows on the floor with no semblance of order. Barry was either a lush, a hoarder, or both.

As Trisha explained the situation to Barry, the vampire just laughed and laughed as the story got more outrageous. He didn’t seem to hold it against them that Hohenheim and Trisha hadn’t mentioned their sons before, but Roy didn’t know Barry well enough to tell if he was putting on a front. Barry was also delighted to have a vampire celebrity gracing his home. The Flame Alchemist had a reputation, for better or worse. At least he knew Roy could burn him alive if he tried anything.

 #

 An hour later, Barry had put together a small but strange feast in his blacked-out dining room. The table had been covered in old newspapers, dishes, and knickknacks, but Barry had cleared it off without complaint while cooking dinner.

“I used to be a butcher, but I was never a good cook,” Barry said as the water boiled over. Trisha had stepped in to help, and together they found enough to feed everyone. Trisha acted cheerful and helpful, but she had borrowed Barry’s phone and gone through half a dozen numbers attempting to reach Hohenheim. He hadn’t answered, meaning he had no idea what had happened to his family. When Roy saw her hang up the phone the last time, she had looked defeated, her face pinched unpleasantly.

At dinner, Ed and Al were all over the sandwiches and spaghetti like it was the perfect pairing. To kids, it probably was.

Hawkeye tackled the spaghetti with perfect manners, but Roy could tell she wanted to dig in with the same gusto as the boys. Her stomach had been growling with hunger for hours. Roy and the other vampires didn’t need to eat as much, so he gave her half his sandwich when she wasn’t looking. He could admit some of it was for selfish reasons—her blood smelled better when she was well fed. She ate it without complaining of his generosity, which said something of her hunger.

“Dad said you used to kill people when you were human,” Ed said to Barry, in that forthright way he always used. “Is that true?”

Barry guffawed. “Oh, he told you that, did he?” Roy looked over at Trisha who was avoiding his gaze. “It’s very true. You might know me as Barry the Chopper.”

Roy’s eyebrows shot up. He knew well of that serial killer. “You were supposed to have been executed!”

“And I was,” Barry said, putting on a ghostly voice as the young boys listened raptly, eyes wide. “Before my execution, a strange woman came and started asking me questions. Was I related to any other vampires? Had I had vampire blood before? Had I let a vampire drink from me? On and on. After I was executed…I woke up in a lab, and they studied me like a lab rat.”

“Then the government was behind this?” Hawkeye asked, putting down her fork. Her undivided attention to her food had been diverted.

“They wanted to see if there were any conditions that made vampire transformation more favorable,” he said. “There were many others there in the labs—some prisoners, some folks taken right off the street. All vampires. And just as many corpses leftover from the failed attempts.”

“So they wanted to turn more vampires,” Roy said, the grim truths behind the former regime were endless. Just when he thought he’d heard the worst of it, something new was uncovered.

“For a vampire army,” Barry said, laughing again. “Crazy bastards.”

“How long were you there?” Hawkeye asked.

“Only a year or so. Then the uprising began. They wanted us all to fight for their side, but many went AWOL. Including me.”

“And did you start killing innocent people again?” Hawkeye asked. The conversation was beginning to sound like an interrogation.

“Nah, as a vampire, turns out my bloodlust is easier to sate now that I drink blood,” Barry gave a toothy grin. “I’ve been on my best behavior since I turned.”

Hawkeye looked skeptical but said nothing. Roy wagered she didn’t approve. He mused over the ethics of Barry’s situation. Technically, Barry had suffered the punishment of his crimes. Should they imprison him again? Capturing vampires during the uprising had been challenging, usually ending in death rather than imprisonment, but they had found the right blend of reinforced metals that had successfully held vampires. Or most. Alchemist vampires were a different breed altogether.

But Roy had a bigger question on his mind he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Did they learn the secret to becoming a vampire?” He tried not to look at Hawkeye because he wasn’t going to change her when she was healthy and well, but if she was dying…

“No. It remains a mystery,” Barry said. “Ol’ Van delved into it, too, when he found this pretty thing,” he said, leering at Trisha.

“Gross,” Ed said under his breath.

“You and Hohenheim were together before you were a vampire?” Hawkeye asked her. Roy had heard the story from Hohenheim. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Hawkeye about it. It wasn’t a story he would share in front of children, either.

Trisha nodded. “We were. I found him irresistibly charming.” She said softly, eyes misty. “We were already married when I became very ill quite suddenly…” she drifted off. She looked at her sons and was able to summon a genuine smile. “And luckily when I died, I was able to return.”

Trisha left out the worst of it. Hohenheim said she was so ill near the end, her quality of life in shreds, that she had asked for his blood one last time. The next morning while he was in town, she’d ended her suffering. Alone.

Roy hid his grimace with his glass of wine.

He reflected on Hohenheim’s original plan. After marrying Trisha, he wanted to age himself alongside her. Vampires usually manipulated their age to be younger, but growing older beside a treasured human had been done on occasion—or so Roy had heard.

If Trisha’s transformation had failed, her husband would have let the sun end his immortal life.

Roy could think of only one person whose death could drive him to do the same, but he also had made her a promise to destroy the vampires who sought to enslave humanity. Could he strive for that goal without her by his side?

“What about little missy here? How’d you get mixed up with the Flame Alchemist?” Barry asked, his eyes on the pulse in Hawkeye’s neck. Roy fought the urge to pull out his gloves.

“He used to give me piggyback rides when I was a girl,” Hawkeye said, glancing at Roy as her amber eyes twinkled.

Barry laughed uproariously. “So you’re just…old friends? Or do you hang around as a donor?”

“To be most accurate, right now he’s my boss,” she replied, casually twirling her fork on her plate. Didn’t she see where Barry was headed with this line of questioning? Roy threw back the last of his wine like a shot.

“I just need to know about the sleeping arrangements,” Barry said. “If you two want to bunk together, or if you want to share with me, or—”

“Barry! Can’t you tell Uncle Roy is about to incinerate you?” Ed chimed in, causing Al to spit out his water as he giggled. Trisha halfheartedly scolded Ed for rudeness, but she was smiling too much to be effective.

Hawkeye turned to Roy. “Really, sir?”

He held up his hands in surrender.

“Uncle Roy and Riza were sharing a room at our house,” Al said innocently, slurping up a noodle. “And I saw him drinking her blood in the kitchen.”

“I see how it is!” Barry said.

“It’s really not like that,” Hawkeye said, and Roy was pleased to see her cheeks were pink.

“So you didn’t give him your blood?” Trisha asked, sounding a lot like her younger son. Deceptive. Trisha came off sweet and motherly, but there was a feisty vampire in there, after all. Roy’s respect for her rose.

“Well, yes,” Hawkeye stumbled over her words.

“From the neck!” Ed added. “And everybody knows what that means.”

“What does it mean?” Al asked, baffled.

Trisha shushed them. “Boys, finish eating. It’s far past your bedtime.”

 #

 Living the bachelor life, Barry had only one extra bedroom. He gave his own to Trisha and the boys, offering Hawkeye and Roy the other while giving an obscene wink. He also insisted on taking over the watch, saying the five of them needed their rest. Roy was hesitant, but there was no polite way to refuse him. Besides, it was daytime, and threats could only be compelled humans. Easy enough for one vampire, and there were two more on hand plus a sharpshooter.

Roy and Hawkeye each took a look around the house, familiarizing themselves with the floor plan before returning to their assigned bedroom. Everything was a bit messy. Barry had haphazardly tidied up, shoving books and clothes onto the floor with enough room to walk to the bed. Roy was sure it was never used for guests. There was a disturbing collection of butcher knives displayed on one wall, warning anyone who wanted to sleep here that their host was a madman.

Hawkeye crawled onto the bed with the determination of a soldier, boots still on.

“You’re just going to sleep?” Roy teased, but he was oddly apprehensive seeing how small the bed was. He didn’t trust himself. Her cloying scent invited him closer, and he barely kept his fangs in check.

“I could go keep watch with Barry, if you’d like,” she said, propping her head on her hand. Roy buried the rush of unreasonable jealousy at the thought of her alone with their creepy host.

“Just wondering where that atrocious nightgown is,” he said instead.

“I had to leave it at the Elric home,” she said. “Not enough room in one bag for both our things.”

The disappointment must have shown on his face because she sat up on the bed.

“I’m on to you,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

“It’s hideous,” he insisted, even as his cheeks grew warm.

She grinned and settled back down to sleep. Roy turned off the light, deciding to take his cue from her and keep even his shoes on. Even with the light off, his vision still allowed him to see her. The room was stuffy and warm, but it meant no blankets, so he watched her curl up on her side, leaving him space behind her back.

He crept in beside her, aware of the creaking of the bed as his weight joined hers. It all felt incredibly intimate. He only shared beds with women he had sex with. He listened greedily to the swiftness of her breathing and heartbeat. Outwardly, she was stoic and still. If he were still human, he’d think her unaffected by his proximity. She was not.

Why she was reacting was a mystery he couldn’t confidently solve. Was she attracted to him? Possibly. Was it merely the novelty of sharing a bed with a man? Or because he was that man? Since learning she was still a virgin, he had been replaying the years of their friendship in a new light.

Hawkeye had been so young when she gave him the secrets to flame alchemy—only sixteen. Roy had been twenty, but his thoughts had been academic and focused. Now it made him wonder if he was the only one to have seen her lethal tattoo, and why that made him so happy.

 #

 The ambush came midday. Riza was awakened by Mustang jostling her awake.

“Get your guns, head to the Elrics’ room,” he whispered. He bolted out the door.

Familiar with this kind of wake up from her days in the militia, Riza was out the door in under a minute, heart pounding, mind focused on her destination.

Gun drawn, she heard scuffling and snarling downstairs. A snap followed by gut-wrenching screams. Riza knocked on the door where the family had been sleeping.

“Trisha? Are you all okay?” Riza asked, watching the staircase—the only way to access the upstairs. Windows, maybe, if they were desperate.

“We’re fine,” Trisha said through the door, her voice strained. “They somehow transported vampires here. I think there are at least two.”

As if summoned, an unfamiliar vampire blurred at the top of the stairs, rushing at Riza. He was heavyset, but frighteningly fast—and armed. Riza aimed her pistol for his bald head, pulling the trigger at the same time the vampire returned fire. Blood and brains sprayed across the wallpaper, and Riza dodged, tumbling into a stack of boxes. Something sharp cut across her hand, but the vampire’s bullet missed her. She repositioned herself behind the boxes, adrenaline thrumming through her as she waited a moment to see if anyone else appeared. The violent noises from below continued.

As stealthily as she could manage, she hurried down the stairs, past the corpse of the vampire, pausing at the bottom to peer around the corner. The clutter of Barry’s home looked like a tornado had swept through. The stench of burnt vampire hung in the air, and two humans writhed on the floor in agony, while two others wrestled against Mustang’s far greater strength. Riza could tell he was trying to be gentle, in case they were compelled, but Riza had no such qualms. She shot one in the leg, the other the arm. The pain overrode their ability to fight back.

“Thanks,” Mustang huffed.

“Is that all of them?” she asked, not moving from her post.

“Two more humans outside. You got the big guy?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “And the family is safe.”

“Good. Can you take care of the two outside? I’ll deal with these four,” he said, binding the intruders’ hands with scraps of fabric he ripped from their own shirts. The humans were all large, younger men, dressed in rough clothes—something poorer folks would wear. Riza suspected they had been compelled because of their strength. If they even had been compelled. Sometimes people pretended to be compelled to escape consequences. Mustang would find out.

Riza slipped outside into the bright sunshine, seeing Barry’s home from the outside for the first time. It was an isolated house, surrounded by trees, with a long driveway where a large truck was parked. There was no sign of the two humans except the truck’s motor rumbling. Riza bumped into a large box, and she figured it must have been used to somehow smuggle the vampires into the house—unless they had known about the tunnel, which was a possibility if Barry had betrayed them. She hadn’t seen him with Mustang.

Riza hunkered behind the box, wishing for a little more coverage to approach the truck. There was too much open space.

But her targets made it easy for her. They dropped out of the truck, guns drawn without skill, more for threatening her. Riza disabled them as she had many soldiers over the years. A bullet for each of them.

“Drop your weapons!” she yelled, approaching with caution. She didn’t want to shoot either of them again, but she would. They refused, and one of them aimed at her. She shot at his wrist, forcibly disarming him. The other took a shot at her, but his arm had already been shot. His bullet went wide.

After that, her greatest challenge was dragging two grown men across the wide expanse of yard as they cussed at her and cried out in pain. One of them took a swing at her, and her cheek was still throbbing when Ed and Al tiptoed into the yard like skittish kittens.

“Mom said we could help you,” Ed explained.

“Go for it,” she said. Or she was going to lose her temper and shoot the intruders dead.

The brothers had no sympathy for the humans, pulling them through the gravel without mercy much faster than Riza was capable. She took more satisfaction than she should have from the men’s shock as they were bested by mere boys.

Inside, Mustang was donating blood to each human, and compelling them for answers one by one, despite what looked like worrisome injuries. He was pushing himself too far again, Riza thought.

Trisha had also made an appearance and had her wrist in Barry’s mouth. He was covered in slashes. It looked like he had been thrown against a wall, based on the dent above him.

He finished feeding and groggily waved Riza over.

“Oh, missy, you have a shiner marring that gorgeous cheek of yours,” he said, his words slurring as he sat up. “I’d give you some of my blood, but as you can see, I’m fresh out.”

Riza smiled gently. “It’s nothing serious, but thank you for the offer.”

Trisha joined Mustang compelling the humans. After they had their information, they compelled the men to forget everything and go home in the truck.

“Two of them did it for money, the rest were compelled,” Mustang told Riza grimly. “I think the female vampire,” he pointed at some ashes, “was the same one who used Dr. Rockbell.”

“That’s a relief,” Riza said.

“Yes and no,” Mustang said. “How did they find us here? Do they know the tunnels and where they connect to?”

“Maybe we should avoid the tunnels for now,” Trisha said, attempting to sweep some cracked drywall from where Barry had been smashed into it.

“I think that’s best,” Mustang agreed. He ran his hands through his hair, falling into a chair in exhaustion. “We’re all tired. We have no way to contact Hohenheim safely…Let’s rest until sunset, then head out on foot.” Riza’s exhausted body approved of the idea.

“I could drive you part way,” Barry said. “I have a safe place on the way to Central. It’s not much, but you’ll be protected from the sun.”

The boys were sent up to bed while the adults sketched out a more thorough plan for nightfall and fixed up Barry’s house. It was only when Riza finally marched up the stairs to return to bed that she remembered the body of the vampire she had killed—but it was gone, only a black, smoky spot left behind.

She hoped the boys hadn’t seen it before Mustang took care of it. As if reading her mind, he caught up to her.

“Only Trisha saw him. And good riddance to that bastard,” he said, giving Riza a nudge toward the bedroom door. “He took a bite out of my arm!”

Riza looked closer at Mustang with concern. His black shirt disguised the fact he was covered in blood. Like Barry, his wounds had healed, but Mustang and Trisha had only had animal blood from Barry’s stash. Mustang was still stronger than Riza, without question, but he wouldn’t be as strong as a well-fed vampire. His thirst would be a weakness she would need to compensate for.

“You’re a mess. Why don’t you go wash up first?” she offered. He nodded and left.

Riza went to the bedroom, brushed her hair and picked out a clean change of clothes while Mustang was gone. Then she took a turn in the bathroom. Looking in Barry’s dingy mirror, she could tell she was going to have a black eye. And while washing her hand she reopened the cut on her palm. She would have to dig through her bag for some bandages.

She opened the door to the bedroom quietly, and found Mustang already lying down, hands tucked under the back of his head. The moment she shut the door, he scurried to the end of the creaky bed.

“Uh, you’re bleeding,” he said, his whole body rigid and focused on her. Like a predator. It was very unlike him. She had cut herself numerous times in front of him—and other vampires—without issue.

“Oh, yes, I scraped my hand. Nothing major,” she said. She gasped when suddenly he was only a foot away.

“Sorry,” he apologized, stumbling back to the bed. “I’m a bit thirstier than I thought.”

“I don’t want to make a habit of it, but…I can give you mine again.”

His tongue ran across his fangs. “You’re tired. And hurt.”

“You’re the one best equipped to protect that family. You need to be at your best.” She thought of the embarrassing teasing from the boys at dinner and offered her wrist, resisting the urge to crane her head to the side.

“You’re far too generous, Hawkeye,” he said. He took her hand instead, spreading her fingers apart and studying the thin slice that marred her skin. His breath fanned over her palm while she held her own breath in anticipation. He merely licked across her hand to ensure the wound would close.

She shivered at the sensation of his tongue but was startled by the burn of disappointment he wasn’t going to feed from her. Then he quickly yanked her into his lap as he settled them on the bed, his hand hot and intimate on her waist. His lips brushed the side of her neck, hesitating as he waited for permission.

And part of her thought she should stop him, offer her wrist and return to the vampire hunting partnership they had before—nothing but a professional friendship.

She arched her neck.

“Please.”

His fangs pierced her neck, groaning as he sucked on her flesh. His hand stroked down to the small of her back, resting just above the curves below.

Heat flooded through her, radiating to her core. Fighting the urge to squirm on his lap, she clutched his shirt tightly as she panted raggedly. What was it about feeding him that aroused her so much? She knew there was a relaxant in their saliva, kind of like certain spiders, but this was different. Her whole body hummed in anticipation, like his bite was just preparing her for something more carnal. Maybe she should be worried. She wasn’t.

A woozy feeling overcame her, and she reached her hand to cup his cheek.

“Roy, that’s too much,” she said.

He immediately pulled back, biting his wrist and holding it up to her. Still high from the intoxicating experience of feeding him, she bent her head to drink, the heady taste buzzing through her like strong wine. It was addictive.

Her mind lost to sensations, it was with dim awareness she realized she was rocking against something thick and hard. She stilled her hips as embarrassment coursed through her, releasing his wrist and licking her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She closed her eyes, unable to look at him.

“Never be sorry for that,” he gasped. And then he rolled them so he was on top of her, her legs wrapping around him instinctually to grind against him through their clothes. She wanted more friction, more bare skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, nuzzling into her neck as she carded her fingers through his hair. “I want to taste you everywhere.”

Then his hands froze at her waist, body tensing.

“What is it?” she asked, mirroring his posture. The high of being in his arms was washed away with cold fear. And something that was almost regret seeped into her bones.

Then Mustang rolled off her with a string of frustrated curses, and she realized she was missing something.

“Barry is a bastard,” Mustang said, voice at regular volume. A cackle came from downstairs. Oh.

“It’s for the best. You’re always mixing food with pleasure. It was bound to happen,” she said, giving him an out. Or herself. She wasn’t sure.

“Uh, yes,” he said with palpable relief. “I’m sure your father would disapprove of you working for a vampire, let alone…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Very true.” Her father would have never given a vampire sympathizer his alchemy, or even worked with a vampire. And he would have thrown her out for willingly sharing blood with one.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Mustang said, disappearing without another word.

She heard Barry laughing again and another rush of mortification hit her. If Barry had heard her with Mustang, the Elrics could have, too. With shame, Riza remembered they were on a dangerous assignment, protecting a lovely family from harm. It was not the time to fall into bed with her boss. And realistically, it should never happen, assignment or not. There was a complex, painful history between them that she was sure sex wouldn’t help whatsoever.

Maybe if there were some genuine feeling on his end, but she knew Roy Mustang. He flitted from woman to woman, and while moments ago Riza wanted to lose herself to the thrill of touching and being touched by him…She also knew she was a serious, monogamous person. It was one of the reasons she was still a virgin. And with Mustang, her heart could not afford to be careless. He was too important to her.

[lalalizzy16fitness]

I am speed.

Hey beautiful,

Remember back in the day when headphones were connected to your phone (or god forbid your mp3 player) by an actual, physical wire?

Remember when that wire tried to strangle you in your sleep?

Or when they went into your pocket neatly wrapped and came out of your pocket looking like a twisted pretzel?

Perhaps you remember the white hot, seething rage you felt when you walked past an open door and the door handle grabbed onto your headphone wire, ripping them from your ears? Plunging you back into the disappointing silence that is your life?

I remember.

(Pepperidge farm remembers)

I am not an angry person. However, I would be lying if I said we all didn’t have a plethora of things to be angry about these days. How I WISH headphones leaping from my ears were the only thing to take me from 0 to 100. Those were the glory days.

We all have things to be miffed about. Justified or not. So here are some tips to turn that upside down, into a frown! (And harness your unbridled rage into a calorie murdering machine)

We’re talking about Rage Running people.

How to make your rage run actually feel cathartic

Rage lends itself best to certain kinds of runs—namely, those that require short bursts of speed.

Anger is not sustainable for long distances because it interferes with fine motor coordination, decision making, problem-solving, and vision. So, if “actually running away” is more your jam, I recommend a less badass physical activity.

So, try these tips on how to channel your rage into a run that offers an emotional release (and a boost to your training) without putting you at physical risk from physically imploding:

Allow yourself to run by feel without monitoring your pace for the first half of a run. Then rein in the speed and finish at a relaxed pace for the latter half.

If you are looking for something a little more structured, swap a scheduled, easy steady-state run with a workout of 400-meter intervals at your 5K pace.

As you run, repeat a phrase in your mind to help you process your anger, whether that means leaning into it or trying to replace it with any bit of positivity you can find.

“Fuck you, watch me,” is a personal favorite, as it is a way of recognizing that anger is normal, acceptable, and can even be beneficial. That phrase won’t be right for everyone or every circumstance— (I’m looking at YOU fugitives of the law) you’ll have to figure out what kind of phrase, if any, helps you process your anger on a run.

Make sure you balance out a rage run by backing off on other training days. Plan to rest the following day by doing a recovery run, brisk walk, or taking the day completely off.

Finally, remember, of course, that you still need to process the feelings after.

So, own the anger you’re feeling now as a reasonable reaction to the state of the world, and if you’re compelled to run it out, go for it. Just consider running as one tool for coping with all the stresses we are handling right now—not necessarily a be-all, end-all solution. If you find you need much more than running to get through this moment, welcome to the club.

We are called the Anxiety Society; and we are really fucking cool.

[felicityfiction]

[bulletproof glass part 4] part 3

a/n: its 5am. i needed a study break. this is terrible. im very disappointed in myself but also not sure if i can put anything out thats better. i have failed, please dont hate me :(

god, do they even teach them how to shoot?

san smirks, easily dodging a badly aimed bullet from a poorly hidden sniper. not really a sniper at all, if you ask him. just someone too cowardly to come down and face the action on the ground.

weakness.

in the chaos of a building carpark, there are guns blazing and shouts echoing, the occasional yell of pain or shattering of glass as these terribly trained excuses of henchmen hit a car instead of their intended human target.

it’s music to san’s ears.

to his left, he registers seonghwa, barrelling towards him with a wholehearted intention to get him into a car and to safety, but san is just starting to have fun.

he takes down two guys who have at least a foot on him, but he barely breaks a sweat. adrenaline is pumping through his veins, and he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to smoke tonight to be able to get high.

this is his drug. san is addicted to the danger of it all. it’s messy and wonderful, a dance that is ingrained into san’s brain and burned into his muscle from years of first hand experience. choi san is talented, and he’s about to show it.

he sees seonghwa veer sharply to his right, and he spares a glance in his direction. just in time to see seonghwa gun down two guys who were surrounding hongjoong, trying to take him down. the leader was to be captured alive, no doubt, to be used as leverage. if his father was here, these guys would be all over him like hyenas to a carcass. but he isn’t, content to let san and seonghwa handle tonight’s minor matters.

he’s mine.

the words thrum in his ears, fuelling his slightly fatigued muscles to keep going until all their enemies were down. he was the next in line to inherit the choi name, and he sure as hell was going to make his name known to everyone in the underground.

and perhaps the child in him still preens under his father’s praise, and he’s greedy for more.

but san is amused by the sight of seonghwa fumbling in his attempt to get to hongjoong, his usual grace lost in his worry. he almost reaches out to hongjoong, then freezes and recoils like hongjoong at shot him. san feels a stab of pity, but also a brief inkling of scorn

this is what affection does to you.

hongjoong had come with few guards, despite knowing that there was a high chance that this deal would go south. perhaps he trusted san more than he let on, or he thought that san had a bigger target on his back, and he would be able to escape unscathed if it came down to it

or, san thinks, maybe he knows someone here will die to protect him.

a hand comes flying out of nowhere, barely missing san’s face, and san whips around faster than lightning. he grabs the wrist, and is about to twist and snap it when he registers the face in front of him. a smile curls onto his face.

“we’re allies here, did you forget? how can it be acceptable to try and take me out?”

“wasn’t trying to take you out. distracted. person shooting. wanted to get your attention.” yunho is speaking in breathless pants, sweat beading on his forehead. he grabs san and tugs, and san finds himself going willingly. he lets himself get pushed behind a pillar, as yunho scans for more aggressive men in black.

there’s a feeling san can’t pinpoint blooming in his chest, and he shoves it away, letting his god awful flirtatious nature come up as a defence.

“so sweet of you, darling. but you look more tired than me. i’d have been perfectly fine, but i appreciate the sentiment.”

yunho doesn’t realise he’s stilll holding san’s wrist, too busy being on the lookout.

“shut up.” he scowls

san sees a brief release of tension in yunho’s shoulders when he spots hongjoong safe, a few meters away surrounded by the remainder of his guards.

“you should go join them, sweetheart. it’s time for you to flee.”

yunho’s eyes snap towards him, and he angrily spits, “we’re not fleeing, you bastard.”

san wants to laugh again, because infruriating yunho is so, so enjoyable. “i didn’t mean anything. they’re all gone, anyway. we won. no point staying around for the cleanup.” he lifts his wrist to yunho’s eyes, and they widen exponentially. yunho drops his wrist and steps back, putting some distance between him and san. san decides he preferred it when yunho was pressed against him.

yunho makes to walk away towards a gesturing hongjoong, but san’s the one to reach out this time.

“thank you, yunho. i appreciate it.” yunho seems surprised by the sincereity that laces san’s words, but he quickly reminds himself that san is more than a proficient liar. he pushes san’s hand off his wrist, suddenly wishing he hadn’t tried to help.

stupid, stupid yunho.

“and don’t worry, baby. you always have my attention.”

and there it is, classic san. can’t have a conversation without dropping some kind of comment that made yunho’s skin crawl. yunho flinches, and walks away. san is staring after him, his lips upturned.

yunho picks his way through the bodies littered on the ground, trying to ignore both the vast amounts of blood, and the way that his ears are burning.

if hongjoong notices how red he is, he presumes that it’s from the physical exertion. he’s scanning yunho for injuries, relieved to find none. regardless, he pushes yunho towards the car, ready to take him away from everything and shelter him as best he can.

he shouldn’t have brought him here in the first place.

hongjoong can’t help the deep tug in his gut that compels him to look around once more before stepping into the car.

seonghwa is rushing towards san, and san is smiling so broadly it disturbs hongjoong. he’s certain that san is a psychopath, or at least someone who enjoys witnessing pain. or maybe he’s so desensitized that this has all become a game for him.

either way, hongjoong darts his eyes down and gets into the car. he pretends that the relief flooding his chest is for himself, for yunho and for his other men. not for the bodyguard of his rival gang leader, who just so happened to perhaps have saved his life.

fuck this.

hongjoong is absolutely fucking screwed.

yunho spends the same car ride trying to forget the deep voice echoing in his ears and the hand around his wrist. he’s all too aware that he was frantically searching for san the entire time the fight was happening, barely registering his members. he should feel guilty, he knows, and he berates himself fiercely.

why yunho, why? he’s a sadistic monster, he could have killed you and called it an accident!

but somehow, yunho can’t bring himself to regret that he threw himself in front of a guy that could very well be holding a gun to his temple in the near future.

yunho is also, absolutely fucking screwed

“he tried to help me, hwa. isn’t that so cute? i could’ve taken all of them blindfolded, but it’s still adorable.”

seonghwa purses his lips, a sharp pang striking a chord in his heart.

san is sitting on his desk, swinging his legs back and forth as he recounts the night to him, nevermind that seonghwa was supposed to be the one delivering the report.

“that’s the first time someone besides me has done that for you, san.” seonghwa says quietly, more to himself than to san. but his charge, his friend, hears it anyway.

“i’m attractive, hwa. what can i say? you tried to play hero too. good job on that, by the way.”

seonghwa flinches at the reminder. it was too close for comfort, the way hongjoong had been a split second from being overpowered, and seonghwa had moved before he had time to think.

“i’m sorry for getting distracted.” he had failed. seonghwa was supposed to protect san, yet he had some kind of messed up tunnel vision and sixth sense that led him to jump to the defence of someone he isn’t even supposed to associate with-

“don’t apologise. i’m a better fighter than you, or him. i didn’t need it.”

i forgive you. i understand. don’t worry, you did the right thing.

that’s how they communicate. with hidden meanings and the hope that the other party understands.

in spite of everything that went down, seonghwa’s frantic about one thing, and one thing above all.

it absolutely terrifies him how choi san is whistling a happy tune from his lips recounting the way jung yunho had tried to press him into a wall for his own safety. san chalks it all up to nothing, but seonghwa sees more. san isn’t just amused, he’s happy.

he’s happy that jung yunho had tried to save him.

it’s mortifying, seeing this unknown emotion on san. seonghwa knows how to deal with an angry san, a drunk san and an indifferent san. seonghwa knows san.

but seonghwa has never seen san care. and it sure as hell feels like san is starting to care.

“would you have done it?” he whispers, and san trails off, narrowing his eyes at him.

“what are you talking about?”

“would you have jumped in front of a gun to save him?” seonghwa bites his lip. please, please say something snarky and cocky and arrogant.

“i’d just shoot the source of danger, hwa. have you lost your touch? can’t protect someone if i’m dead, now can i? remember that next time, i doubt hongjoong would want to see you die in front of him.”

seonghwa’s ears are ringing.

protect someone? san, since when have you ever wanted to protect someone? everyone is disposable to you, no? why him? why now?

but seonghwa swallows all his words, and san continues on his painfully oblivious humming. he can’t even tell that this emotion is new and different. he can’t tell that his mind is drifting to a hand gripping his wrist, and the pressure of another body pressed against his.

word of the day: endearment. maybe san would do good to learn some new vocabulary, so he can put a label to that weird sensation in his chest, and his burning desire to see jung yunho again.

maybe, san would come to his senses. seonghwa can only hope.

[act-addict-actors-matchups]

@otomeramblings said,

I'm a girl, 23 years old, around 162 cm, with medium length dark brown hair (almost black) and brown eyes. I'm one of those people who are often asked "are you okay? Are you mad?" and no, more often than not that's just how my resting face looks lol

I'm a Scorpio and an INFP. According to my friends, I'm usually very sweet but no one likes to be around me when I get seriously angry ^^; I guess it's because i'm generally very soft spoken and I try to avoid conflict as much as I can, and when I'm upset is one of the times when I actually raise my voice. I have people tell me that I'm smart, but I just consider myself to be an overall average person. It usually takes me a while to fully trust someone but once they've earned my trust, I cherish their friendship for life.

I can fluently speak English and Spanish, and I recently got my English Translation degree. I love to read (both novels and manga) and to discover new music, I also really like dancing (I did ten years of ballet) and I recently rediscovered my love for drawing and writing.

Qualities I would like in a s/o:

-passionate, about anything, really. I'm usually very reserved unless I have something I really want to talk about and I appreciate when others listen, and for that reason I love to listen to people talk about things they're passionate about

-mature, not in relation to his hobbies bit more so in the sense that he can have a serious conversation when needed and take responsibility for his actions.

-patient. Being introverted and kinda awkward, I usually need time to recharge after being social and even while spending time together there will probably be silences when I think of what to say or even times when I'd just rather we spent it doing our own thing while being together.

Qualities I don't like:

-shouting. I hate it when people shout at me when they're mad because it makes me tear up immediately, I would much rather you tell why you're mad in a calm tone so we can work things out.

✧ The way I scREAMED when I saw your url 🤭 I love your writing so much skdhksdhksjd thank you for requesting a matchup. 😳💞 Stay safe! I hope all goes well for you!

I’d match you with: . . .

➜ HOW YOU TWO FIRST MET ; The blue sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily in the gentle breeze while you were on your way to buy new drawing pencils. Your current ones were not exactly in the best condition after being used too many times. A sigh escaped from you as you fastened your pace. In all honesty, you would rather stay at home and maybe watch one of your shows but you knew if you didn’t go out to buy those now, you never would. As one particular building came to your sight, you suddenly stopped in your tracks. It was a flower shop. The vibrant display of flowers covered the table outside. Bold purple, soft pink and light lavender flowers sat right in front of you as well as some others you didn’t know the names of. The sweet smell of blossomed flowers filled your nose as you inhaled and exhaled. They were so beautiful that you couldn’t help but to reach at a lavender, the purple petals felt like soft velvet against your skin. The chime of the door opening ringed into your ears, drawing your attention away from the flowers in front of you. A man with a blue striped T-shirt, a pair of black pants and black leather shoes came out of the building with a bag you thought had flower seeds in it. A brown trench coat with a blue inner lining slung over his shoulder, beautiful, dark blue hair rustling as he gave his thanks to the employee before closing the door. The man turned around and you swear you stop breathing for a moment, because oh my god how dare someone this handsome come in to your field of view without a warning. After realizing that you’ve been staring at a stranger for a good seconds, you hesitantly looked away. But just your luck, while you decided that it was the time to carry on with your mission, you dropped your purse to the ground. You groaned before bending over to pick it up but to your surprise, you see another hand reaching over it? And most importantly, you saw that it was that handsome stranger when you looked up??? He gave you a kind but awkward smile as he hold out your bag to you. You muttered a “thank you” before grabbing it. After that cliche moment, there was an awkward silence between you and the man, but he decided to speak up to start a conversation by asking if you liked flowers. The conversation smoothly flowed from there. He just had that aura of gentleness radiating that you couldn’t help but warm up to the stranger, who you later learned the name of, quickly. He even offered to accompany you to the shop you were going, which you agreed if he didn’t mind. Your relationship steadily developed from there. To be honest, it wouldn't be obvious at all that Tsumugi has a crush on you. He's friendly and sweet to everyone he meets most of the time so nobody thinks twice whenever he's with you, except maybe Tasuku. His underlying feelings for you would show in the little things he does, the way his eyes shine whenever you laugh, how his ears perk up whenever he hears your name, how he somehow memorized all your favorite foods after you offhandedly mentioned it once before. For someone who majored in psychology, it’s kind of hilarious how dense he is regarding his own feelings. He would mistake those feelings of his as a weirdly strong platonic attraction for you and continue spending time with you in hopes to appease the feeling but be confused as to why he always felt unsatisfied. He finally realizes how smitten he is for you after a long internal monologue he had after he almost had a heart attack when you hugged him once for whatever reason.

➜ PERSONALITY COMPATIBILITY ; Tsumugi is the walking epitome of every single thing you’re looking in a S/O. You want someone passionate about something? This man literally couldn’t give up on his dream and love for the performance art. He’d be more than willing to talk about how acting involved a broad range of skills, including a well-developed imagination, emotional facility, physical expressivity, vocal projection, clarity of speech, the ability to interpret drama etc. He’d try bunch of different gestures in front of you and ask you which one you liked the best. He also absolutely loves it when you are the one who does the talking. His strength is CANONLY listening to others after all. He just gives off this aura that compels you to think that you can talk about anything and everything with him. Just like you, Tsumugi has a great need for harmony and dislikes any conflict so if there were to be any fights, they would be resolved in a day or two with the two of you talking it out. He majored in Psychology in university, and is very good at reading people so if you’re both in a social gathering and he senses you need to take a break, he will hold your hand and walk you somewhere with less crowd and noise. When you want to be alone, he’d give you the space you need and if you want to spend time he would be there. He is a pretty clueless baby at the start and would try to ask people for help on dating advice. He will however remember every single memory you two will and have made. You’ll never see him forgetting any milestones in your guys’ relationship. His way of saying “I love you” is through the flowers he picks and grows. As someone who can be shy to vocally express his love for you, he handpicks each flower based on their meanings with the hope that they could accurately convey the emotions he holds for you. The very sight of your smile as you watch each tiny plant grow kindles a budding warmth inside him, as if he’s a bee intoxicated by the nectar of your happiness. And to him, the vision of you happy is prettier than any flower in his garden, pushing him to always keep you bright and blooming.

➜ SHARED ACTIVITIES ; Tsumugi canonly moon/stargazes with Misumi so why wouldn’t he do the same with his S/O? It’s a cool, romantic and surprisingly unique activity to do together. There aren’t many activities one can plan for a date that are sweeter or more intimate than a night spent together under a beautiful, sparkling sky. You would ask each other questions about one another, without being afraid of letting the conversation slow down. This is a date to relax and linger over. If not that, I can totally see him taking you to a botanical garden. These places are beautiful and not too busy in general. Bonus points if you bring a camera and get some nice photos together as a couple. i’m so soft rn 🥺 But I feel like your most common date would be either tending the garden in the mankai dorm or just doing your own little things while being together. You might be writing on the table while he’s going over his script for the winter troupe’s newest play one more time or he might be grading his student’s test, since he’s a tutor and all, while you’re drawing. I see Tsumugi as someone who reads a lot so maybe both of you can read the same book together and discuss it afterwards. These types of dates are great for discovering how the other person views the world. One might learn that their significant other is passionate about a social justice cause, their favorite author, or their philosophy of beauty. These dates are great for sparking good conversations and they are introvert friendly. Or something even better: reading aloud. Reading out loud to each other can be incredibly sweet. And, as spiritual counselor Davida Rappaport says, "just the fact that you are both close and sharing space is ... a nice way to spend an evening."

➜ ZODIAC COMPATIBILITY ; Tsumugi is a Capricorn, his birthday being December 28th. When Scorpio and Capricorn make a love match, they get an opportunity to not only enjoy a loving relationship and learn the value of being a pair, but also to grow and mature as individuals. These two may be wary about sharing themselves with one another at first, and this emotional caution may dampen the initial impact of this relationship. These two tend to be a bit cautious (Capricorn) and pensive (Scorpio), and it takes a while for them to feel comfortable with a significant other. Though they may be shy of getting involved and not the quickest to trust and share, these two Signs will discover that they can have quite a profound connection — one of friendship and deep loyalty. What’s the best thing about the Scorpio-Capricorn love match? Their determination toward shared ideas and their strong devotion to one another. They can open doors to one another’s souls and show one another new ways of perceiving and feeling.

[dark-driver]

Seeking Resolution

Major backstory spoilers lie below for Rizzo! Look only if you want.

“Get up.” 

The words rang around my head, and brought a sharp pain with them. It was a searing sensation, like the voice came from within my head, instead of without. Such was the state I was in, as I opened my eyes to greet a dimly lit cage, buried deep in a cave. Thanalan. That’s where I last remember being. ...Well, almost. The other place felt like a dream. Nothing about it seemed or felt real. My sense of time was distorted. How long had I been unconscious? I tried very hard to find my bearings, sitting up where I was left prone. Wrists were shackled; bound by chains. Annoying. Chafing. 

“Get. Up.”

There she was again. I looked around a moment, and finally spotted in the gloom, a dark figure, fully armored, and standing outside of my cage. I felt compelled to answer her, rising to my feet on unsteady legs.

“Break your binds.” The voice came firm, almost angry, as she stared at me through her visor. 

“It’s… metal. I can’t just ‘break’ it.” My reply was weak, spoken hoarsely, as I finally realized how dry my throat was. 

The soldier stood stock still, uncannily so, as she grabbed the bars of the cage and hissed at me, “Break your chains, or die in this place. You have one choice to live, and it will be taken from you if you do not act now.” 

The firmness at which she spoke startled me. Her voice rattled through me to my core and sparked a sense of adrenaline. I looked down at my wrists and pushed them apart. Pain greeted me immediately. After a moment of fruitless effort, I looked plainly back to the soldier. “I-I can’t. It’s too strong.” 

“Listen here, Rafaela.” That she knew my name was jarring all in itself. “I am giving you one last chance to do this before I do it for you.” 

She gave me an option in that. One I didn’t know I had. “Then… then do it for me!” I cried. 

Her voice became loud, overwhelming, filling every part of me as she said, “Then step aside.” 

I wish I could explain the sensation. I wish I could recall exactly what it felt like. But it was nothing that words can describe. The soldier was gone, fast as I’d seen her. In its place was a burning, passionate anger. My muscles, my mind, my vision were all consumed by a strict, primal desire to free myself and live. But more than that; I had to punish those who marred my face, and sent me to that distant place. 

My arms pulled outward, and the chains broke into pieces. The cage was in front of me, now, and lasted about as long, my hands prying it open and breaking the lock. Strength I did not know was coursing through me as I marched with malice out of my confinement. I was greeted by a man in a robe. I recognized him. He was who brought me to that altar. Seeing me moving, active, was a shock to him, and the fear I saw in his eyes brought me an unfamiliar sense of delight. I felt the flames of thaumaturgy dance over my skin, but the pain ended quickly. There was no lasting hurt, and more importantly, no obstacle in approaching my jailer. 

He lacked the luxury of determination that I did. I left him in pieces.

My vision blurred; I was possessed by purpose, by rage. As I passed by the rows of cages, I could scarcely comprehend the idea that others endured what I did. The thought of more people seeing what I saw compelled me to rip off the locks of each as I moved by, barely breaking my stride. I have never felt so much direction in my life. The anguish within me was wielded like a weapon, as I became a shield for those who followed in my shadow, afraid to get in my way. 

Not all of the Lambs fell to my hand. Some knew better than to try. They escaped. For now. 

As I led who I had out of the caves, we came upon the entrance, and I saw the open sky for the first time in what felt like years. But it was not the sun that greeted me. All I saw was red; the clouds tinted by distant fire, and the moon much, much closer than it should be. 

Hear…

Feel…

Think...

Another voice. Unfamiliar. Deal with it later. As I turned to the company I had freed, I urged them away from the moon. I knew this territory, unfortunate as my reasons were. Though they cowed from my barked orders, they knew better than to linger. 

As we crested the cliff to safety, I gave the moon one last look, only to see it explode in a hail of fire and destruction. For this, I simply turned to shepherd the rest of those poor souls as far from that angry god as I could. 

The anger soon subsided and survival took over. Healing, then, had only just begun for everyone.

[gaitwae]

Beyond Words, Darling •||• 4

Summary: With what started as a dream, Mary Crawley realizes just in the nick of time that her new love is the last person she expected. (canon defiant season 5 afterwards)

+-+-

Lilies and rice. White filling his vision. Robert’s supportive and proud smile from the crowd. Mrs. Branson. New gold on Tom’s finger, clapping filling his ears. A sense of new joy, the sense that Sybil understood how happy that damned woman made him. 

She would spin in a gorgeous dress, dancing with George and Sybbie. Marigold in Edith’s lap. Tom, sitting as his chest swelled with pride, beaming at the beautiful mother playing with her children. His children. Cousins and siblings. Uncle, father. Stepfather. Husband. 

He would walk to embrace his bride…

Tom sat, clicking his nails against the wooden desk in the library’s office desk. It had been a week since Mary told him that she was considering accepting Lord Gillingham’s proposal, and Rose’s party was only hours away. He knew what Rose was planning.

He knew what she was up to. He couldn’t let her follow through, but he wanted Mary to be happy. Even if it meant some racecar-driving idiot who constantly reminded her of Matthew’s death. If it meant Mary was indescribably happy, he would push for it until he died. 

But Tony Gillingham… the damn bastard, so arrogant. Thinking he could just woo Mary with fancy words? It made his blood boil. Tom at least knew he had nothing but effort to offer Mary. He had no more than what he offered Sybil. 

Tom couldn’t grasp why the bloody hell he let Rose’s plan take place. He couldn’t understand why having him make Tony Gillingham jealous was productive! The thought of displaying his affections as false… well…

It made him anxious; angry. 

Not only that, but this game had been tossed around back and forth, deepening his feelings. He was bursting at the seams to ask her for some sort of resolution —

“Tom?” a lovely, worrying voice asked him, stopping the flow of his river of thoughts.

“Hm?” He snapped back into reality, locking eyes with Mary. They had been talking about something, although he couldn’t recall what it was. He was never paying attention to her words, anyway. Just the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry; I’m distracted over the party.”

Mary gave a small, short laugh. “I asked if you’d save me a dance; it’s quite alright.”

“Mary, I’ll always save you a dance.” He playfully winked at the woman, his lips tugging into a smile. The smile, though genuine, felt like a mask. It took him a moment to figure out why — America had seemed as far away as the stars.

He ducked his head, ashamed.

“Golly… am I that bad of a dancer?” Mary asked quietly. Tom must have looked disappointed. He was. He didn’t want to leave Downton, or England, or the Crawleys, or Mary. He didn’t want to leave his best friend. Possibly more than that. 

If he really was in love with her, he would have to leave. His heart squeezed tightly as he prepared to tell her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he mumbled. He took her hand, again, like at dinner days ago. Mary let herself be comfortable with the contact. He found his heart leapt at her tiny smile and happy eyes. He smiled back — he was compelled to. 

“What about? Can I help?”

“About… starting over.” Tom braced himself. 

Lady Mary’s eyebrows knit together, and her grip on his fingers became loose. “What? Tom, I don’t understand,” Mary told him, shaking her head. “Start over?”

“I want opportunity,” he explained. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat away. He bit his lip and stood to kneel next to the noble, stubborn woman he had grown to adore. “I want Sybbie to have a good life; one where she can be happy, darling.” He took her other hand, lacing their fingers.

“Can she not be happy here?” Mary asked. Her offense was apparent on her face, in her voice. She ripped her hand away from Tom’s immediately. Her eyes were shining, tinted red from tears. 

“Darling, no, I didn’t mean that — I didn’t ,” Tom frantically tried, taking her hand, again, kissing her knuckles. Neither of them should have ignored how he could call her darling , something so intimate. How they sat in a way they begging for the other, in a way where words couldn’t express how badly they wanted each other. How… how… 

“What did you mean?” Mary cried quietly, shaking her head. “You’re not making sense.”

“I just want a simple life for Sybbie,” he whispered. He wiped her eyes. “I want to take her to Am—”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Robert said, arching a brow. “Is everything alright?”

Mary was the first to stand up. “Everything is fine.” She didn’t fake a smile. She didn’t use a nasty tone. She was vulnerable, but strong: she was Tom’s Mary. She wiped her nose gently and left the room with a brisk walk. The loud slam of the door was the only thing that really conveyed her anger.

“You’re going to explain why I walked in to see you holding my eldest daughter’s hands,” Robert said strongly, turning to face Tom once the door had been shut for a few seconds. “Right now.”

The first thought Tom had was Thank God he didn’t see I kissed them, too. He exhaled deeply. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until then. “I told her I was considering leaving Downton,” he began. “I was trying to get her to calm down.”

“Hm.” Robert stared at his feet, then back up at Tom. “Are you?”

Instantaneously, he wanted to say ‘No!’ Branson wanted to run away and tell Mary he was going to propose to her instead of bring up America — propose ? What the bloody hell ? — but he simply nodded. His trembling lip was the only thing giving him away.

“Then it’s a shame,” Robert sighed. He set a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’re like my son, Tom. And even though Sybil was your wife, I think you’re quite alright to love anyone you want.”

“That’s just it, Lord Grantham,” he said, barely audible. A tear slipped from his eye onto his cheek. “I can’t bear this feeling.”

“What feeling, exactly?” Robert asked more questions under that one, with even more questions on his face. 

“I can’t bear to think of leaving. But I can’t stand being the odd man out,” Tom said, forcing a smile. He felt like screaming, instead. He moved his hands to emphasize his desperation. “I also want Sybbie to find out who she is in a land of nothing but opportunity; I’ll miss Mary, but I need to at least see what America has.”

Robert smiled sadly. “Just Mary?”

Tom would have laughed along, but instead he closed his eyes and sucked his teeth as he silently cursed himself for slipping up. Robert turned Tom to face him. 

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized quite how much you had…” The second-oldest Crawley trailed off, digging his fingers into Tom’s shoulders in support.

“I’ve been trying to forget,” he said meekly. He felt small; he wanted a hug; he wanted to cry to someone. But he didn’t want to sob in front of his father-in-law. “I see her the way Sybil saw her: terrified of being picked apart and discarded, yet so, so beautiful. I see all the good qualities that she lets come through.” He took a shaky breath.

“You’re really in love with Mary, then?”

Tom sucked in a slow inhale. “I know it’s not right, but I know this feeling. If she doesn’t feel the same, I will have to leave… even for just a little while.” He tried to stand as still as possible.

“My boy, it may not be orthodox, but I haven’t seen anything so right since your spouses walked the earth!” Robert laughed joyfully. He pulled Tom into a tight embrace. “Cora will be so happy to hear that she was right —”

“I would prefer if you didn’t say anything until it’s on my terms,” Tom said quietly, slowly and carefully hugging back. “Please?”

“Yes! Yes, I won’t say a thing.”

+-+--

Mary didn’t know how long she was crying. She just sat in a small room she didn’t recognize because of the large wells of tears, stifling sobs. Tom? Leaving? He would leave her! George would miss his uncle and his cousin! Mary would miss Tom and her niece.

“Mary? Mary, are you alright?”

Mary jumped. She gripped her heart through her chest. Granny came into the room. “Oh… it’s just you. I’m sorry to burden you, but you have to help me.”