#this is cursed knowledge and i would like to wipe it from my memory banks forever

[thegeminisage]

i’ve really had a whole day. first the third-worst house i’ve ever cleaned then swan song and then realizing dean’s arc in s5/s6 is identical to [redacted]. i’m gonna throw myself into traffic

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 44

First

Previous

Next

~~~

Her eyes snapped to Penguin, who was calmly rifling through his pockets as if he wasn’t currently pressing the equivalent of a knife into her neck. After a few seconds he pulled a tiny black dot from his bag.

“This is a bug. It allows us access to everything you see and hear. You’re going to wear it at all times.”

“And if I don’t…?”

He smiled sweetly. It didn’t suit his face at all. “Then those friends of yours are going to have some accidents.”

She nodded slightly and bit the inside of her cheek. Part of her was tempted to just take it and put it on her civilian self, but then it would disappear whenever she transformed. She doubted they would take too kindly to the deception, nor would they listen to any explanation she gave.

“I’m going to need two of those.” There were a few frowns and she gave an awkward shrug. “My costume gets rid of everything I’m wearing, no matter where it is.”

Penguin cursed a little but agreed to dig through his pockets and hand her one.

Great. So now that problem was solved. New problem! What is she supposed to do about the whole ‘NightMare’ thing? It would also disappear when she turned into NightMare, and they would either assume she had taken it off and kill someone she cared about or they would figure out it correlated with when NightMare went out and kill someone she cared about.

She was let go. After a few seconds, Penguin removed the umbrella from her neck and she breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

Marinette cringed as he fastened the bug to her forehead, pushing her bangs back a bit more than normal. A glance in the mirror made her wince. It blended into her skin almost too well, looking like a mole that she usually had hidden behind her hair. There goes the hope that the bats would notice. Tim might, but not before he said something that could endanger the family.

She set the extra bug in her pocket. She’d have to put it on when she transformed.

“Put the bug on.”

“Now?”

The Rogues sent her a harsh look and she nodded, pulling it back out and setting it on the chair. She glanced around.

“Could you… look away? I don’t… transform in front of people.”

They all looked annoyed, but eventually turned around.

“Tikki, spots on,” she murmured. In seconds she was in her costume and she reluctantly placed the bug next to her bangs again. She shuffled uncomfortably as everyone looked at her and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Great. That’s done.”

“I hope I don’t have to tell you that this will remain between us.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said, sending him a glare.

Penguin gave a small shrug and she bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from cursing him out.

Then Harley walked over and tugged on Marinette’s mask. A confused look dawned across her face. “Why can’t I take off your mask?”

Marinette blinked in surprise. Why did she care? They already knew her identity… “It wouldn’t come off unless I wanted it to.”

“Miraculi are weird.”

She nodded her agreement, still trying to figure out why it mattered. It wasn’t until Harley had turned away to go talk to Poison Ivy that she realized that she must have thought that her miraculous resided in her mask like NightMare’s did. Damn, way to research the enemies, guys. Still, they weren't trying to get her miraculous, so it wasn’t important.

What was important right now was...

“Where’s Damian?”

Penguin rolled his eyes. “I’ll retrieve him.”

Marinette nodded and watched him leave. No one was paying attention to her anymore, content with the knowledge that she wouldn’t do anything for fear of her friends’ safety. Riddler had gone back to being uninterested now that the mystery was solved. Poison Ivy and Harley were chatting, bitter expressions on their faces.

She dropped her transformation.

A few minutes later, Penguin brought in a slightly dazed Damian. “He took a lot of tranquiliser, so he’ll probably be messed up for a little while.”

She sent him a glare as she ducked under Damian’s arm and held him up. “Thanks for taking such good care of him,” she hissed.

“We could do worse,” warned Penguin.

She clamped her mouth shut and began dragging Damian out onto the streets. A quick glance at her phone confirmed that, hey, they were ages away from either of their houses and also in a terrible neighborhood. Great.

She reached into his pockets and rifled around despite his weak protests. She pulled a gun, loading it and beginning to walk.

They began walking, the afternoon sun beaming down on them. She was already burning up from the effort of carrying Damian along -- he was heavier than he looked, and he already looked pretty damn heavy -- but the sun attempting to roast them alive was just adding insult to injury.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek nervously. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t really just not go as NightMare for a while, the Gala was approaching very rapidly and her absence would be both suspicious and unwise. There was nothing she could do.

And then there was the bats. She didn’t want to double cross them (could she even call it that? Would it be triple crossing? Quadruple crossing? Double-double crossing?), and she couldn’t think of any ways to tip them off without the Rogues noticing.

She grit her teeth tightly. She found herself wishing, for the millionth time, that her Miraculous Cure could change memories. Everything would be so much better if she could just wipe someone’s memory of who she was, if she could get rid of all the memories of the terrible experiences victims endured…

But she couldn't. And now she was stuck in a mess she couldn’t fix with people’s lives at stake.

“We can’t go home,” murmured Damian, pulling her from her thoughts.

She nodded slightly. The bats would be… more than a little peeved off about the secret they’d kept from them and, though they could only avoid them for so long, she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Damian wasn’t either. They needed time.

And time, of course, was needed for her to think things through.

“Can we get to your place?”

She shook her head slightly. “Too far. If we tried to walk there we’d get there tomorrow morning.” 

“Do we have money for transportation?”

“Do you think we’d be walking if we did?”

Damian sent her a halfhearted glare and then groaned and leaned into her so heavily she thought she would buckle under his weight. She continued to hold him up, though -- mainly because she didn’t want to have to pick him back up off the ground if they collapsed.

She settled to dropping him on a bench and biting the inside of her cheek anxiously.

The suburbs were ages away from downtown --.

Downtown. A memory came to her and she grinned. There was a solution to at least a few of her problems.

She pulled up the Diversityadoptees group chat.

Definitelyforgottosleep: hey guys can dami and i come over

Brucesfavorite: mhmm

Before she could sound this out to figure out what this could mean, Duke answered as well.

Imsurroundedbyidiots: Only if we can send a picture to mess with The Whites(TM)

She rolled her eyes.

Definitelyforgottosleep: sure where are u

They sent her the address at the same time and she smiled to herself. After a bit of walking (and a lot of getting lost), they ended up at the door to their apartment.

If you could even call it that.

The living room was the size of her entire apartment. And there was a distinct living room. There weren't just some vague counters to separate the kitchen, there were walls. And, as her eyes landed on a staircase, at least two floors.

“I’m moving in,” she muttered, dropping onto the couch with a slight pout on her face.

Duke laughed quietly and closed the door behind her. “Sure, we have an extra room.”

“HOW MANY ROOMS DO YOU HAVE?”

He rolled his eyes and then looked at Damian, who was leaning against the wall she’d left him by. “Is he going to be alright?”

“Probably. They apparently gave him a lot of tranquiliser.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, whether with confusion or anger it was hard to say, but before he could say anything Cass came sliding down the banister. She beamed and flashed them all a wave.

Then her smile lessened.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. Really, she was banking on Cass being able to figure out that she was bugged immediately like she’d figured out her identity. Otherwise she had no clue how she was going to tip off the bats.

Cass tipped her head to the side and then a smile reappeared on her face. “Popcorn and movies?”

Had she figured it out? She certainly hoped so. She nodded that it would be fine and watched her disappear to the kitchen.

Duke grinned and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels idly as Damian slowly made his way over.

The sound of popcorn popping filled the apartment and Marinette cursed mentally, tipping her head back to rest on the armrest. Great. New plan…

The receiver in her ear crackled to indicate someone had turned theirs on.

She worried for about half a second that the Rogues would be able to hear, but then remembered when she’d had to literally smush her face against Red Hood’s in order to hear Batman yelling at them for being irresponsible back when they’d all gotten drunk. It would be fine.

She didn’t even bother to hide it as she reached up to receive the call. She saw Duke’s eyes trace the movement and then widen a bit, then looked away in case he had one to turn on as well.

“The bug’s been bugged,” said Cass, who seemed very proud of her joke.

“She’s been what?”

“Bugged. Someone bad found out her identity and now she’s got a bug.”

There was a silence as this sunk in.

Then Dick was yelling. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SOMEONE FOUND OUT HER CIVILIAN IDENTITY?!”

“Damn, Nightwing, didn’t know you cared so much,” said Tim, who sounded a bit on edge.

“WHY DID THEY GET TO KNOW BEFORE ME?!”

“Because everyone gets to know before you,” said Cass calmly. “You’re officially the last to know.”

“IM SORRY?! EVERYONE KNEW?!”

“Yep.”

He must not have believed her, because he began going through everyone’s names. Every bat was forced to both admit when and how they’d found out. Apparently even Bruce had been in on it, having found out on a security camera around Thanksgiving. Damn. She really was not good at hiding her identity, huh?

Well, except for when it came to one person, apparently. Dick was practicing breathing exercises, if the mumbled counting was anything to go by. However, it must not have worked, because he was still yelling when he next spoke: “WHO IS SHE?!”

Jason attempted to move the conversation away with a quiet: “Hey, so about that bug thing --.”

Whatever attempt to save his wallet he was about to make was ruined by Cass, who simply said: “Marinette.”

The silence stretched on for a good minute before Dick began a long string of cursing.

Marinette was saved (or prevented, depending on how you look at it) from learning a bunch of new English swear words by Damian dropping on top of her -- probably revenge for leaving him to walk over on his own. She hissed in pain and cradled her stomach, where his head had hit, and cursed him out. Apparently she didn’t need Dick’s help, after all.

Dick was still cursing when she turned off the line (Cass had come back with popcorn) and Marinette beamed as they all got comfortable on the couch.

Duke had stretched across the top of the couch so he could have room. The girls had taken to opposite ends of the couch, mainly so Damian could lay across them with his head in Marinette’s lap and his legs in Cass’s as he tried -- and failed -- to stay awake. They benefited from this arrangement, too, though, because they were now allowed to rest the popcorn on his stomach (it needed to be in the middle where everyone could reach it, a genuine war between all of them would be a disaster).

They put on a scary movie, Marinette hardly paid attention -- it wasn’t that scary, anyways. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Great, so now the bats wouldn’t reveal or talk about sensitive information in front of her. That problem was gone.

But she had another one. And she had no clue what she was going to do.

A hand touched her cheek and she blinked a few times to clear her head. She turned slightly to look at Cass, who was giving her a tiny smile. “Relax for now. We think best when we give ourselves breaks.”

Marinette was not one to take breaks. But… as her eyes flickered over Duke, who was watching the movie through his fingers, and Damian, who had begun to hug her like a pillow in his sleep, she couldn’t help but smile. It’d only be a little while anyways.

~~~

For the person who asked for a chapter in Dick’s POV... sure I’ll do it and any other requests I might get when I’m done with this fic

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper

<3

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Anrâd...  Buzrâ

Part 10 of ‘A Deep Misunderstanding’.  Who know how many more parts are going to follow…  Link to Series Masterlist.

Thorin falls for a Dwarrowdame raised by Elves, and tries to make know his feelings, but accidentally offends her, which leads to another and another misunderstanding between the two.

Based off of @immawriteyouthings​ ‘Falling Stars’

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used: Estel

Word Count:  1,902

Warning(s):  Angst

Translation(s): Anrâd...  Buzrâ:  I Care... Deeply

Sindarin:  Pinig-Little one

Burushkruka igbulul e:  I apologize (lit. It pains me greatly)

Azafr sagshari sabhari:  As you teach, you learn

~~~

I fled down to the banks of the river that wound itself through the forest, desperately trying to hold back the salty tears attempting to trail down my face.  The sun glinted brightly off its happily dancing waves; a happiness that I couldn't share.

Falling to my knees on the sandy shoreline, I took deep shuddering breaths as I hid my face in my hands, cursing the day I had decided to join this Company.

Had I known what fate awaited me, I wouldn't have gone along with the wizard.  Not if I only got my heart broken time and time again.

But would you have?  My heart whispered softly, would you really have thrown away the chance to gaze upon the Dwarrow you would love with my entirety?  Would you have been willing to throw that away just to save me from being broken?

"No," I whispered hoarsely. "No, I wouldn't have."  

The gentle murmurs of my heart brought back a memory of when I had innocently asked my foster mother if she would have rather not met her husband; if only to save herself from the pain she felt.  A sad smile had woven its way across her delicate features and she shook her head slowly.

"No, Estel.  Never.  I wouldn't trade those moments with my husband for anything in the world.  As the Wise Ones say; it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, pinig.  Never be afraid to love because you might lose it."  She had told me, and her words struck a deep chord within me.

Tears streamed more readily down my face, and I finally let everything that had built up for so long inside me break free.  Deep sobs shook my body, and I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking a source of comfort.

"Miss Estel?  Are you alright?"  A rumbling voice broke through my sobs, and I glanced up to the haze of my tears to see Thorin standing above me, looking down at me with concerned sapphire orbs.

Well, that was a change.  Since when did he care about me?

As he took in my tear-stained face and heard my heavy sobs, he hurried to kneel beside me, peering closer at my face.  "What did Dwalin say to you?  Why are you crying?"  He asked gruffly, but I shook my head, wiping at my cheeks and sniffing.

"It's nothing, Master Thorin.  I just need to be by myself for awhile."  I muttered, but Thorin made no move to leave me.  Instead, he just made himself comfortable, staring out across the river in silence.

His lack of words left me time to think more about what I needed to do.  Perhaps it was time to let him know that I would leaving his company as soon as we reached a town.  Maybe that would bring a smile to his gruff features.  

But there was still another question I needed an answer to.  Turning towards Thorin, I was surprised to already find him looking at me.  "Master Thorin?  What does 'amrâlimê' mean?  Can you tell me?"  I asked softly, watching as sapphire blue eyes widened slightly.

Thorin's chest rose and fell as he took in a deep breath, still maintaining eye contact with me.  Then he let out a long sigh and turned his gaze back towards the river.  "It means 'my love; love of mine'.  It was just a slip of the tongue."  He murmured, and I swallowed hard, battling against the butterflies rising within me.

No, it's too good to be true.  Argued my mind, but my heart pleaded that it was true; that everything was pointing towards it.

In the end, my mind won and I nodded solemnly, avoiding looking at the silent Dwarrow beside me.  "Of course it's just a slip of the tongue; a lie.  It always is."  I murmured, unable to help the hurt that coated my words.  "Just like everything else everyone tells me."  

"What do you mean?"  Thorin sounded confused, and I shot a hard glance over at him.  

"What do I mean?  I mean all the suggestive words and looks everyone gives me and you.  They tell me that you love me and care so deeply for me, but I don't see it."  I swallowed back a sob, "Eru, I don't see it.  I've looked so hard, and I can't find anything.  And as I told Dwalin; I cannot reciprocate feelings that don't exist."  

I trembled as emotion overwhelmed me, blinking rapidly against the tears pricking the backs of my eyes.  Thorin only watched this with wide eyes, his mouth parting slightly as he took in my words.  

"Who said I didn't share your feelings?"  He said quietly, and I whirled to look at him, unsure if I was actually hearing this or if I was hallucinating.

"I thought that when I rejected your offer to court me, you put aside your feelings," I murmured, "it sure never seemed like you liked me in any way...  Your words made that quite clear."

"And for that, burushkruka igbulul e...  My words never carried any weight, I swear it."  He said, and I shot him an incredulous look.

"Oh really?  What about when you said that I was 'not going to be more of a burden that I already was'?  How does that not carry any weight?"  I asked, and Thorin looked at me with a raised eyebrow.  

"You've never been a burden to me, Estel.  Only the greatest gift Mahal could ever give."  He said quietly, his steel blue eyes gloriously riveting as they bored into mine, and I fought against the blush attempting to stain my cheeks at his obviously heartfelt words.  

"Oh."

He continued onwards, moving on.  "I also apologize for how I assumed you would know the Dwarvish courting ritual.  At the time I didn't have any knowledge of your upbringing--"

I interrupted him hesitantly, "you don't care that I was raised by Elves?"  I asked, watching his expression closely.  "That I might act more like an Elf than a Dwarf, or speak their language?"

Thorin shook his head, the hesitant beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  Well, perhaps I didn't have to leave to coax a smile from him.  "No, Amrâlimê...  I will admit that your heritage took me by surprise, but I cannot hold the past against you.  The past is the past; only the future is important."  He said, and I tilted my head slightly, wondering if this was the same Dwarf I had talked to only an hour or so ago.

But Thorin wasn't finished speaking, and the deep tones of his voice brought me back to the present.  "Had I known your lack of knowledge about Dwarvish customs, I never would have presented you with that sword...  I would have tried to make it known in a different way, Estel, and avoided all this misunderstanding."  He said and I smiled, ducking my head.

"You are too kind, Mas--Thorin.  But it is also a bit of my fault as well...  I thought you were offering me the sword as a blunt way of telling me I was a horrible fighter."  I said sheepishly, and Thorin ran a hand through his dark locks, letting out a deep breath.

"Mahal, we really got off on the wrong foot..."  He groaned, "I never would have meant it in that way, Estel.  Truly, I believe you are an excellent fighter that even I could learn something from."  He said; pink beginning to tinge his cheeks.

I smiled, "How humble of you.  Azafr sagshari sabhari, am I right?"  I teased, and Thorin nodded, a soft laugh emerging from his lips and colliding beautifully with the air.  In all honesty, it was the most melodic, beautiful sound I'd ever heard beside the gentle nickers of a mare to her newborn foal.

"Yes, Estel, you are quite right."  He said, "although I had never anticipated saying that about Elven things."

He sobered and hesitantly reached out a large hand to gently engulf mine within its warm and comforting grasp.  "Now perhaps we can try this again?  On the right foot this time?"  He asked softly, reaching down to tug a familiar dagger out of a sheath on his side.

I gasped in astonishment, withdrawing my hand from his to delicately take the dagger from his other hand and trace the Elven designs on the hilt.  "You kept it..."  I murmured, looking up into his twinkling eyes with wonder.  

A smile tugged at his bearded cheeks, and he nodded gently.  "Of course.  It was a gift from you, as well as a fine blade."  He said, "and it is very special to you, is it not?"  He asked, and I nodded.

"Very.  It was a present from my Naneth--my mother--before I left Lothlorien with Gandalf to head to the Shire.  I treasure it and its mate very much."  I whispered, hoping that my eyes were doing a good enough job of thanking him as I wasn't sure if I could manage it aloud.  

Sheathing it in my belt beside its twin, I encountered a sudden problem.  I didn't own another blade to give to Thorin.

Looking up suddenly, I bit my bottom lip.  "I don't have another blade to--"

Thorin cut me off, raising a hand.  "It is alright, Estel.  I already know where your feelings lie, and you did give me that blade to begin the courtship process."  He said, but I still couldn't lay aside the problem.

"Sure, but you don't have a weapon from me, while I have one from you.  Doesn't that violate something?"  I asked, and Thorin shook his head, chuckling slightly as he gazed at me with soft blue eyes.

"I am a King, Estel.  My word is law.  No one will question our courtship since we are in an unusual situation."  He said, laying his hand on my arm comfortingly.  "Do not worry yourself over it, Amrâlimê."  

Gently, his hand gripped my arm and pulled me closer to him until I was suddenly enveloped in his strong arms; tucked under his bearded chin.  "I will care for you, Amrâlimê, if you will let me."  He murmured, and I relaxed against his broad chest, fisting the soft fur of his coat as I snuggled myself into the warmth of his body.

"Damn, had I known you were this warm and furry..."  I groaned, burying my face into his shoulder and breathing in the gamey smell of the fur mixed with the pine and sweat that was Thorin.  "Course you can care for me.  I just want to wear this coat."  I mumbled, and Thorin's chest vibrated as he laughed.

Well, I could get used to this.  Things were a lot more fun when he laughed.

"As you wish, my love."  He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice as his grip around me tightened slightly.  

I smiled to myself, content to be held tight in a pair of arms that I now knew would never let me fall.  Before, I had believed they would be the ones to shove me off a cliff, but now I knew differently.

They would hold me tight through the darkest of times, keep me steady whenever I felt like I might fall; and most importantly--never let me go.

[larinah]

August 20th, 19—. I HAVE HAD what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper as clearly as possible.           Let me say at the outset that my name is James Clarence Withencroft.           I am forty years old, in perfect health, never having known a day’s illness.           By profession I am an artist, not a very successful one, but I earn enough money by my black-and-white work to satisfy my necessary wants.           My only near relative, a sister, died five years ago, so that I am independent.           I breakfasted this morning at nine, and after glancing through the morning paper I lighted my pipe and proceeded to let my mind wander in the hope that I might chance upon some subject for my pencil.           The room, though door and windows were open, was oppressively hot, and I had just made up my mind that the coolest and most comfortable place in the neighbourhood would be the deep end of the public swimming bath, when the idea came.           I began to draw. So intent was I on my work that I left my lunch untouched, only stopping work when the clock of St. Jude’s struck four.           The final result, for a hurried sketch, was, I felt sure, the best thing I had done.    

      It showed a criminal in the dock immediately after the judge had pronounced sentence. The man was fat—enormously fat. The flesh hung in rolls about his chin; it creased his huge, stumpy neck. He was clean shaven (perhaps I should say a few days before he must have been clean shaven) and almost bald. He stood in the dock, his short, clumsy fingers clasping the rail, looking straight in front of him. The feeling that his expression conveyed was not so much one of horror as of utter, absolute collapse.     

There seemed nothing in the man strong enough to sustain that mountain of flesh.

       I rolled up the sketch, and without quite knowing why, placed it in my pocket. Then with the rare sense of happiness which the knowledge of a good thing well done gives, I left the house.

       I believe that I set out with the idea of calling upon Trenton, for I remember walking along Lytton Street and turning to the right along Gilchrist Road at the bottom of the hill where the men were at work on the new tram lines.

       From there onwards I have only the vaguest recollection of where I went. The one thing of which I was fully conscious was the awful heat, that came up from the dusty asphalt pavement as an almost palpable wave. I longed for the thunder promised by the great banks of copper-coloured cloud that hung low over the western sky.

       I must have walked five or six miles, when a small boy roused me from my reverie by asking the time.

       It was twenty minutes to seven.

       When he left me I began to take stock of my bearings. I found myself standing before a gate that led into a yard bordered by a strip of thirsty earth, where there were flowers, purple stock and scarlet geranium. Above the entrance was a board with the inscription—

CHAS. ATKINSON MONUMENTAL MASON WORKER IN ENGLISH AND ITALIAN MARBLES

       From the yard itself came a cheery whistle, the noise of hammer blows, and the cold sound of steel meeting stone.        A sudden impulse made me enter.        A man was sitting with his back towards me, busy at work on a slab of curiously veined marble. He turned round as he heard my steps and I stopped short.        It was the man I had been drawing, whose portrait lay in my pocket.        He sat there, huge and elephantine, the sweat pouring from his scalp, which he wiped with a red silk handkerchief. But though the face was the same, the expression was absolutely different.        He greeted me smiling, as if we were old friends, and shook my hand.        I apologised for my intrusion.        “Everything is hot and glary outside,” I said. “This seems an oasis in the wilderness.”        “I don’t know about the oasis,” he replied, “but it certainly’s hot, as hot as hell. Take a seat, sir!”        He pointed to the end of the gravestone on which he was at work, and I sat down.        “That’s a beautiful piece of stone you’ve got hold of,” I said.        He shook his head. “In a way it is,” he answered; “the surface here is as fine as anything you could wish, but there’s a big flaw at the back, though I don’t expect you’d ever notice it. I could never make really a good job of a bit of marble like that. It would be all right in the summer like this; it wouldn’t mind the blasted heat. But wait till the winter comes. There’s nothing quite like frost to find out the weak points in stone.”        “Then what’s it for?” I asked.        The man burst out laughing.        “You’d hardly believe me if I was to tell you it’s for an exhibition, but it’s the truth. Artists have exhibitions: so do grocers and butchers; we have them too. All the latest little things in headstones, you know.”        He went on to talk of marbles, which sort best withstood wind and rain, and which were easiest to work; then of his garden and a new sort of carnation he had bought. At the end of every other minute he would drop his tools, wipe his shining head, and curse the heat.        I said little, for I felt uneasy. There was something unnatural, uncanny, in meeting this man.        I tried at first to persuade myself that I had seen him before, that his face, unknown to me, had found a place in some out-of-the-way corner of my memory, but I knew that I was practising little more than a plausible piece of self-deception.        Mr. Atkinson finished his work, spat on the ground, and got up with a sigh of relief.        “There! what do you think of that?” he said, with an air of evident pride.        The inscription which I read for the first time was this—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CLARENCE WITHENCROFT BORN JAN. 18TH, 1860 HE PASSED AWAY VERY SUDDENLY ON AUGUST 20TH, 19— “In the midst of life we are in death.”

FOR SOME TIME I sat in silence. Then a cold shudder ran down my spine. I asked him where he had seen the name.        “Oh, I didn’t see it anywhere,” replied Mr. Atkinson. “I wanted some name, and I put down the first that came into my head. Why do you want to know?”        “It’s a strange coincidence, but it happens to be mine.”        He gave a long, low whistle.        “And the dates?”        “I can only answer for one of them, and that’s correct.”        “It’s a rum go!” he said.        But he knew less than I did. I told him of my morning’s work. I took the sketch from my pocket and showed it to him. As he looked, the expression of his face altered until it became more and more like that of the man I had drawn.        “And it was only the day before yesterday,” he said, “that I told Maria there were no such things as ghosts!”        Neither of us had seen a ghost, but I knew what he meant.        “You probably heard my name,” I said.        “And you must have seen me somewhere and have forgotten it! Were you at Clacton-on-Sea last July?”        I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at the same thing, the two dates on the gravestone, and one was right.        “Come inside and have some supper,” said Mr. Atkinson.        His wife is a cheerful little woman, with the flaky red cheeks of the country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. The result was unfortunate, for after the sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Doré Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour.        I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on the gravestone smoking.        We resumed the conversation at the point we had left off.        “You must excuse my asking,” I said, “but do you know of anything you’ve done for which you could be put on trial?”        He shook his head.        “I’m not a bankrupt, the business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of the guardians at Christmas, but that’s all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,” he added as an afterthought.        He got up, fetched a can from the porch, and began to water the flowers. “Twice a day regular in the hot weather,” he said, “and then the heat sometimes gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?”        I told him my address. It would take an hour’s quick walk to get back home.        “It’s like this,” he said. “We’ll look at the matter straight. If you go back home tonight, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there’s always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of fallen ladders.”        He spoke of the improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh.        “The best thing we can do,” he continued, “is for you to stay here till twelve o’clock. We’ll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.”        To my surprise I agreed.

WE ARE SITTING now in a long, low room beneath the eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars the while.        The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel.        It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour.        But the heat is stifling.        It is enough to send a man mad.

[erin-bo-berin]

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 2)

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Part 3

Hard Love (unofficial Part 4)

Since I couldn’t leave y’all hanging for too long, here is part 2 of my Spencer/Reader/Cat fic. This is where things kind of go in a different direction from the show, but I thought it would be a nice twist than what we know from the show. This takes place over about a year so that’s why there’s so many skips in time. But in this part, there’s some answered questions from the first part...only to be replaced with more unanswered questions and perhaps another cliffhanger. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Word Count: 4,168

Rating: G (some angst, some fluff)

Grief is a strange thing.

Some people grieve quietly, away from the public. Others, dive into work or another activity to keep their mind busy as they try to place that grief into something else. Occasionally, people skip grief and go straight to anger, questioning the world why they lost their loved one; but in most cases one grieves normally, keeping the person alive in their memories as the pain fades and becomes easier to live with.

But sometimes, grief can consume you. It can completely engulf your entire body, feeling like every cell of your being has been replaced with sorrow. The world doesn’t seem real as the only world you inhabit is the one inside you, filled with despair and sadness. No one could ever be able to describe it, no one could truly know how awful it feels.

You had never felt such a horrible feeling. At least not until now.

•

It was less than a week later that Spencer’s funeral was held. The amount of people that had shown up was astounding, not that you could blame them. Spencer truly was one of a kind; not only great at his work, but a wonderful person.

You couldn’t help but think the sea of black that surrounded his casket was a metaphor for your current emotional state. The world felt dulled by your pain. 

With nowhere else to go, you were forced to stay at Spencer’s apartment, a blessing and a curse in one.

The dark green walls, the deep brown furniture, the living room filled with shelves and shelves of his books were both comforting and painful at the same time. You couldn’t help but notice just how quiet the entire place felt without him to fill the atmosphere with his knowledge and loving nature.

Almost immediately after the funeral, you took to staying in bed. The deep brown sheets still smelled like him and you didn’t want to leave. You just wanted to stay in this little bubble forever.

•

 The scenery was filled with busy streets, people walking by on the sidewalk and cars and buses zooming past on the street.

He sat at an outdoor table of the small café, sipping his coffee, awaiting his company. It wasn’t long until he spotted her amongst the crowd of pedestrians, her long blonde ponytail swinging as she walked.

“Hey,” she sat down across from him.

“Coffee?” he offered.

“No thanks.”

She pulled out two manila envelopes, ready to get down to business. 

“In here is the information you need to access both of your bank accounts. One here in Moscow, the other in St. Petersburg. Both have enough in them for you to be comfortable while you lay low.”

“Alright,” he took both envelopes and put them in his bag for safe keeping.

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’ll be fine. How is she?”

She blew out a breath, not sure she could tell him just how bad it was.

“Not good.”

“Promise me one thing, okay?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Take care of her while I’m gone. Please, JJ, that’s all I ask.”

She nodded, moving to stand.

“Be careful, Spence.”

•

It’d been only a month. 30 days since you’d heard the terrible words “Spencer’s gone”.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he never made it off the operating table. The bullet had just been too hard to find, there was too much blood, he was crashing too fast.

At least that’s all you could remember being told by the doctors, the numerous members of the BAU and other people you couldn’t remember. It was like the entire experience had been wiped clean from your mind, only bits and pieces of memory flashing here and there.

Your mental health had taken a nosedive. You barely left bed because all you wanted to do was sleep. You ended up losing your job, but you didn’t have enough energy in you to even care. 

You didn’t eat.

You barely managed to get out of bed for a shower. Somehow you stumbled to the shower maybe once a week and that was because your friends made you.

It had been a rotating crew of the team visiting you. 

Mostly it was Penelope, Emily and JJ, but Rossi, Morgan and Tara stopped by a few times too.

Even Hotch showed up.

You could tell just how much your misery bothered him and he, like Morgan, spent his time trying to make things right rather than pay you visits.

Not that you cared all that much.

“We will catch her,” Emily said.

You sat in the middle of the bed, one of the brown sheets in your hand as you played with it, not looking up at your company that was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Spencer wouldn’t want this for you. He wouldn’t want to see you not able to leave bed, not being able to grieve properly,” she said gently.

“I don’t know what Spencer would want. Cause he’s not here, is he?!” Your lower lip trembled, tears threatening again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, brushing away the tears although it did no good since they were falling faster than you could wipe them away.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Emily pulled you into a hug, “We all miss him too.”

She let you cry until you felt completely drained of tears. With all the crying you’d done, you were amazed there were still tears left to shed.

“Have you eaten anything today?” She pulled back, looking at your face.

“I tried to eat some toast this morning, but I threw it up.”

“It’s probably because you haven’t eaten much,” Emily answered, “Do you want me to get you something? We could order a pizza?”

You shake your head, your stomach rolling at the thought of it.

“Thank you, but no.”

When Emily left ten minutes later, you crawled back into bed, shutting your eyes, willing sleep to come and rob you of your memories.

•

“We should tell her.”

“Garcia, no. You know that Hotch advised against it,” Morgan said.

“But she’s miserable,” Emily added.

“Guys, Spencer made us promise we wouldn’t tell her. It’s safer that way. If she knows he’s alive, Cat could come after her to get to him. That’s the last thing he wants,” JJ said.

“I was just over there last night and took her some food. I thought she was going to puke just looking at it. It’s like she’s wasting away to nothing,” Penelope frowned, “Literally and figuratively.”

“Reid was basically all she had, other than us. With no family left, we’re all she has,” Rossi jumped in.

“That’s why we’re not going to give up on her, okay? Or finding Cat,” JJ said, looking around at the other teammates, “We’re going to find this bitch if it’s the last thing we do.”

•

The next time you had company, you were too busy with your head in the toilet to hear anyone let themselves in.

“Oh my goodness, honey.”

You hear the distant voice of Penelope Garcia as she rushed into the bathroom, kneeling to rub your back as you retched again.

“Did you eat something bad?”

“I haven’t eaten anything for 48 hours. I’m amazed there’s anything left in me to throw up,” you groaned.

“How about I make you some of my infamous Garcia chicken noodle soup?”

You nodded, even though your appetite was nearly nonexistent and let her assist you back to the bedroom.

“You look horrible,” Garcia winced, “Sounds like you’ve caught a nasty bug.”

You pulled the sheets up over you as you laid back down.

“Tell me about it. All I want to do is sleep but I can’t for throwing up. Plus I guess I’m starting my period cause my boobs hurt like hell.”

“Oh that’s the wor-” she paused mid sentence and you look up at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I’ll be back in a little bit okay? You just rest and I’ll get that soup started.”

She dashed out of the room and you peered after her, too exhausted to question what was wrong. Soon after, you drifted off.

-

“JJ, Y/N’s throwing up, exhausted and her boobs hurt doesn’t that sound just like…?”

Penelope was pacing the length of the kitchen, which wasn’t very big to begin with, as she talked to JJ on her phone.

“Yeah, it does,” JJ agreed.

“Should I ask her or?”

“Give me an hour to grab Emily and we’ll be there.”

•

“Y/N?”

In your dream, you woke to Spencer shaking you gently, smiling sweetly down at you. Your heart swelled with love for him, just looking up at him. You reached out to touch him, when he called your name again. Only it wasn’t coming from him this time.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

You felt a gentle shake of your shoulder and your eyes opened to see JJ, Emily and Penelope surrounding you. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, confused.

“What’s going on?”

“Garcia called and told us you’ve been pretty sick lately,” Emily said, “I remember you said you were sick the last time I visited. How long have you been throwing up?”

You shrugged, “It’s been off and on for a few weeks. Why?”

The three exchanged a look before turning back to you.

“When was your last period?” JJ questioned.

“Oh, uh,” you stopped to think, realizing you’d been so consumed with grief you hadn’t even registered the absence of your monthly cycle.

“About two months before the hitmen case.” Your eyes widened at the realization.

That was over 3 months ago now. Then, you’d just assumed it was stress making you skip your periods.

“Could you be pregnant?” Garcia gasped, trying hard to suppress her grin.

“I...I don’t know,” you answered truthfully.

You couldn’t remember the last time you and Spencer had been intimate. The last few months of his life had been so busy, filled with cases that usually it was just a matter of being together when you had a spare moment.

“Don’t worry. That’s why we brought these.”

JJ held up a bag with three different pregnancy tests.

“One for each of us to check,” Emily added.

“Now why don’t you go take these and go take a shower. We can check them after you get out,” Garcia said.

You nodded, obeying their orders. 

After a quick shower, you stood in fresh clothes, your hair still dripping wet. The three women stood looking at the pregnancy tests you’d taken and left out.

“Well?” you asked, biting your thumbnail.

“Positive,” JJ answered.

Emily looked up from hers, “Positive.”

“Positive!” Garcia squeaked, bouncing on her feet.

You felt your mouth drop in utter surprise and wonder, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

“I’m...pregnant?” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes, a small smile on your face.

“You’re pregnant!” Garcia squealed, rushing over to hug you, the other two joining in on the group hug.

For once, your tears were tears of joy. There was a part of Spencer that would always live on through this baby.

You had a reason to live again; a tiny, growing reason, but a reason nonetheless.

•

The following weeks were less than desirable in your opinion.

After being forced to visit the hospital by your friends and having an examination by Derek’s fiancé Savannah, you discovered that you were severely dehydrated from your weeks of grieving.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing you’d deprived your little one of the food and nutrients it needed to grow. Savannah—who happened to be close to delivering her and Morgan’s first child—had assured you that after some fluids from a couple of IVs you would be fine. All you had to do from here was to continue to eat properly and take your prenatals and the little one would be just fine.

“This is what you get to look forward to,” she’d  chuckled, rubbing a hand over her round 35 week pregnant belly.

You had found out that you were 12 weeks along, just a week shy of your second trimester. Unfortunately, you had still experienced morning sickness all day long and still only looked bloated, not pregnant.

But time passed quickly.

Four months turned into six. Six turned into eight. There were many changes that happened around you besides the growing human inside of you.

The search for Cat continued, the team working their asses off to find her, but with no luck nor leads.

Changes to the team happened too.

Derek Morgan retired from the FBI, wanting to be with his now wife, Savannah and his little boy Hank. You’d sent him off tearfully. He was one of Spencer’s best friends, one that you had become close with too over the years, but you knew he was going to be the best dad.

A new member joined in his place, Luke Alvez. He had been familiar with Spencer as well and the team welcomed him into the family, as did you. 

Then Hotch decided his time with the FBI was coming to an end. After a particularly grueling case, he put in his resignation paperwork. He was happy to be a more involved father to his almost teenaged aged son, Jack. You wished him all the best, knowing he was going to have the time of his life with more time for Jack, even though it was hard to see him go.

Emily stepped up as the new unit chief and brought in agent Matt Simmons, another agent you were familiar with. A tall, handsome, hardworking sweetheart, you were glad to welcome him to the team as well.

The changes within you were just as extreme as the ones around you.

Your belly grew bigger, your little one stronger. You felt kicks and movement daily now, each move warming your heart, although you couldn’t help but wish quite often that Spencer was around to witness this. He would be so in love with this baby, you were sure of it.

You struggled with the decision to find out the sex of the baby. With a vote between you and your friends, it was a unanimous vote for yes.

Mere weeks after the discovery of your pregnancy you found out you were carrying a precious baby girl. You were completely overjoyed, as was the entire team. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the team of people that would be loving extended members of the family and of course, babysitters. Occasionally though, the melancholy feeling would creep back into your subconscious.

Spencer would’ve been over the moon knowing he was going to have a little girl. He would’ve spoiled her so much and she would have him wrapped around her little finger. You missed him daily, even though a part of him grew in your belly. You couldn’t help but be sad for your little girl who would never have the chance to meet her amazing father.

It was then after many weeks of contemplating a name, that the perfect one came to you. You decided to keep it a secret until she was born, much to the team’s dismay, but you wanted it to be a surprise. In your heart though, you knew it was the perfect name for her. 

-

Your ninth month of pregnancy had finally arrived as did the other symptoms of your final trimester. You were tired, achy and felt like you’d swallowed a watermelon. You were so ready to get this baby out.

As if overnight, Spencer’s apartment had been filled with baby things in preparation for her arrival. Her crib was in the spare bedroom, although she wasn’t going to leave your side for the first few months, hence the bassinet next to the bed in the bedroom.

Bottles were lined up in the kitchen, boxes of diapers sitting in the living room. You couldn’t believe it was almost time to meet her; secretly you hoped that she took after her daddy, both in looks and personality.

“How are we feeling today, mama?” JJ asked when you met her and Garcia for your weekly lunch.

“Like a huge, swollen basketball,” you laughed.

“Hey princess, auntie Penelope can’t wait to meet you,” Garcia rubbed your belly, making you grin.

“Maybe you need to give her more pep talks because I’m so ready for her to get out,” you groaned, “And to see my feet again.”

“Henry and Michael are so excited for her to be born,” JJ chuckled, “I’m going to have to tell them to be gentle with her though, they’re not used to little girls.”

You grinned. You loved JJ’s two boys. Spencer had been their godfather, so you’d kind of become an auntie to them. She often brought them to visit you when you were still grieving Spencer’s death and they were the only ones who could bring a smile to your face during your darkest period.

After you’d found out you were pregnant and started rebuilding your life again, you often volunteered to babysit them. Other than your little girl, they were the ones who motivated you to begin healing and getting stronger. 

They got more excited the bigger your belly grew. Henry, the oldest would often try to explain to his younger brother Michael that babies came from mommy’s tummies. He also told him that there came a point when mommy and daddy loved them so much that there was no room left for the baby in the mommy’s belly. So, the baby had to come out in order to get the rest of that love. It warmed your heart knowing that one day, your child would be this big and this smart.

You were so thankful for them and for the entire team in general for pulling you out of the hole of despair you’d been in for you might not be sitting here right now.

When you’d ordered, the three of you sat and chatted about their current cases and baby stuff until you felt a slight trickle down your leg. With a glance under the table, you realized your pants were soaked. For a moment, you thought you’d peed yourself.

You groaned, expressing your concern. Even though that was just a symptom of pregnancy, it wasn’t any less embarrassing.

But the flow of the trickle became heavier. When JJ came around the table to assess the situation, her eyes widened, taking in your now soaked seat.

“I think your water just broke.”

A flurry of activity followed.

-

18 hours of labor and nearly 2 hours of pushing later, you were holding your daughter, staring at her in amazement.

Her tiny fist was holding onto your finger and you smiled down at her, tears blurring your vision. It was early yet, but you thought she looked just like Spencer.

She had a head of brown hair, his eye shape and his mouth, but your nose; although it looked much cuter on her.

“She’s so cute,” Garcia cooed at her, stroking her cheek.

“Spence would be so happy, Y/N,” JJ said.

You smiled up at them. They’d been the ones you’d requested to be in the delivery room and they’d been amazing helping you through the rough labor.

“Can I hold her?” 

“Of course,” you smiled, handing her to Penelope.

“Me next,” JJ smiled, holding her little hand.

“So are you gonna tell us her name now or what?” Garcia urged.

“Yes,” you smiled, “I thought it would be appropriate for her to always have a part of her daddy with her. So I decided to name her Spensa. Spensa Rose Reid.”

“That’s beautiful,” JJ breathed, looking down at her, “Hello, Spensa. You look just like your daddy.”

•

Adjusting to being a single mother was difficult, but so rewarding. It helped a ton that you had so many willing helping hands, as well.

Spensa was such a laid back baby and loved to be sociable, even at five months old. She truly was the light of your life.

You loved watching her grow and learn new things, from rolling over to waving and clapping her hands. She babbled a lot as well nowadays.

Her dark head of hair had lightened to a lighter shade of brown and was just starting to curl at the ends. Her blue eyes surprisingly hadn’t turned dark yet and she still looked so much like Spencer.

She had the little dimples in the side of her cheeks that only showed up when she made specific expressions and she liked to scrunch her nose occasionally, just like daddy. It was almost hard to tell that she was yours, but you didn’t mind one bit.

She was the sweetest baby and you fell in love with her more every day.

As to be expected, the entire team fell head over heels for her and often took turns visiting when they had time. Sometimes, you even took her to the BAU to visit all her aunts and uncles.

You often talked to her about Spencer, even though you knew she was too young to understand. It was amazing how the knowledge of her had eased so much of the grief you had felt those first few months. You still longed for him, missed him so much, but in a way he was alive and with you within Spensa.

It was nearing her bedtime one night and you were rocking her in the chair next to the crib.

“Do you want to hear another bedtime story about daddy?”

She baby talked in response, playing with her toy giraffe.

“Well, your daddy was the bravest man I know. He was so passionate about his work and he was good at it too. He was sweet as you are, ladybug.”

You tickled her stomach, smiling at her giggles.

She laid back in your arms, still playing with the toy in her arms, her gaze on you.

“He cared so much about the people he loved. He would have loved you too munchkin. He loved kids so much and he wanted his own some day. I wish he could be here to see you.”

The tears choked you and you wiped a hand over your face as they fell. Spensa started fussing as if she could sense your sadness.

“It’s okay baby,” you repositioned her on your lap, reaching for the frame of you and Spencer on her dresser.

“You wanna say goodnight to daddy?”

Spensa babbled to the picture, putting her hand on it. 

It might have seemed silly to do such a thing every night, but you never wanted her to not know who Spencer was.

You kissed the top of her head.

“I love you, Spensa.”

•

In Moscow, it was a pretty standard day for Spencer. 

He had managed to set a pretty strict schedule in his time here. It had been nearly a year and he had gotten used to life in Moscow. He still worried daily about his girlfriend though, worrying for your safety.

It was Thursday evening, the usual time he went to the market, yet when he returned to his place, something felt off.

On the entrance table, there was a lone red rose and a note. His eyes scanned over the note.

Roses are red

Violets are blue 

I have a surprise

And a secret too

Love,

Cat

He automatically reached for his gun that he carried at all times, just underneath his pant leg, in an ankle holster.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came the taunting, familiar voice from behind him.

He turned around to face the living room and saw Cat sitting in one of the arm chairs, her gun on the arm.

“Spencie,” she grinned, “Miss me?”

•

It was just after nine. Spensa had just been put down again after her 8 o’clock feeding and you were attempting to rinse some dishes off before you headed to bed.

The tv played in the living room and you turned, confused when you no longer heard any sound coming from it. You shrugged it off, chalking it up to a possible power outage.

You returned to the dirty dishes, the clinking plates masking the noise of the sliding porch door clicking shut. A creak from behind you made you freeze in place. You glanced up, a figure approaching behind you clear in the reflection of the window. 

Before you even had the chance to cry out, something hard struck the back of your head and everything went black.

•

You groaned, your head pounding. You reached up to rub the sore spot, wincing as you try to sit up. It was bright behind your eyes and you fought to slowly open them, blinking a few times until your surroundings come in to focus.

That’s when you saw them.

Across the room stood your dead boyfriend, lips locked with none other than Cat Adams.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​ @multifandommandy​

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Nine: The Girl With Too Many Secrets

A single backpack was all it took to carry everything of Selene's old life. It carried all the money from her bank account, which wasn't much; the only letter her mother had ever written her; some clothes; a picture of Selene and some distant family she couldn't remember; her small braided bracelet; and some tools in the hopes of gaining a job as a mechanic. Everything else she didn't want.

She left no note. She told no one of her leaving. She would have bet money that they wouldn't even figure out her absence for a couple days. Her disappearance would be a blessing they would probably thank her for.

No one would miss her. Not Adri. Not Pearl. Not Garan. Not Cress. Not anyone from school. Not her teachers. Not even Kinney. Everyone would move on with their lives— forget her and her pitiful existence. But she would never be able to escape them, not really; just like how she couldn't escape her own mother. Their words would graffiti her mind, reminding her of all her faults and how she could never truly be loved.

You did a terrible thing. You killed Peony, and you're going to pay for it.

Hadn't she already paid? The pain of grief was enough to kill her. The knowledge of what she had done was the worst torture.

When we're done with the, you'll be nothing but dust and ashes and cinders.

How can you destroy something that has nothing left to demolish? How can you wound something that's already dead inside?

You deserve this, Selene. You deserve the darkest and most fiery places of hades domain.

She already lived in Hell, so what difference would it make?

You're a freak; a sociopath. Do you even know what love is?

How could one know love if they have never received any?

I don't even know why you stay here. No one wants you.

Monsters were always unwanted, that was why they were chased away with pitchforks and fire. But what did you do when you yourself was an uncontrollable monster?

Selene shook herself, trying to chase away their words, but she knew that they would stick with her forever. They were what made her the broken girl she was just as much as her name. Echoes of anger and sorrow would forever call throughout her mind and in her nightmarish dreams of what Hell was supposed to look like.

Acceptance would be the path of least resistance in Selene's case.

Towns flashed by as Selene's bus moved at high speeds. The original plan was for her to move to Portland, but she knew that it was too close— too familiar. She had lived with two different Foster Families in Oregon, and someone might remember her. She couldn't let anyone know her name.

In the end, her going to Colorado was something of a lucky chance. She'd never been in living memory, though she knew that it was her birthplace. She hoped that no one would know her.

Slinging the backpack over her shoulders, Selene had no regrets— save for one. She wished she had been able to save Peony; Ran as well. They were the misfortunes that followed her, and now that she knew where Selene was, she had to leave once and for all and never come back. No one could ever again know where Selene Linh was; it was too dangerous.

That was one of the reasons why Selene was going to disappear forever.

Cinder Linh, on the other hand, was not wanted by anyone. She was the fresh start that Selene needed. She was a new opportunity, a phoenix rising from the ashes of her catastrophic past.

Selene would never say her name aloud again, for it was a curse that only destroyed everything that she loved. Her name was a brand, and with her new name, she would finally be set free.

***

Kai's hands fluttered nervously as he rapped on Cress Darnel's apartment door, knocking more times than he would have normally. He was anxious for this meeting, seeing how it would determine the exact amount he would discover about Selene before she woke up.

Thorne had called Kai the night before, telling him that Selene was still asleep, but due to wake up at any time. Thorne had then gone on and on in wondering aloud how the hospital could afford such models. Kai half suspected that Thorne was enjoying his time at the hospital more than he was letting on, getting to see Nainsi and Iko and the other nurses at all hours of the day.

The door opened after only a few moments, its fading red paint with the number 4B swinging wide to show a petite girl. She had short, wavy blonde hair and eyes the color of a California sea. Her wrists were covered in an assortment of threaded bracelets, and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She wore a frown, though it seemed to be more out of questioning than annoyance.

"Hello," Kai began, smiling brightly. "My name is Kaito Crown, and I'm here on behalf of Selene Linh. I was told that you might be able to provide some information on her."

Cress' jaw dropped in shock. Her eyes had gone wide and her hands gripped the door until all the color was flushed out of them. She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Kai wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been so forward. "You see," Kai continued, wringing his hands together. He was desperate, but he tried to conceal it as much as possible. "Selene–"

"What happened to her?" Cress cut through Kai's words with a flurry of panic born from shock. "Is she okay? Is she still alive? Where is Selene?" Cress moved forward, standing on her toes and biting her lip around the words. Her expression held many things that Kai hadn't expected to see: guilt, sorrow, and something else that Kai couldn't decipher.

Kai raised his hands in surrender of her deluge of questions. "I– I don't know much, um, Cress. I just... do you mind if we sit down and I tell you everything?" Cress nodded and led Kai inside to a small living area. He sat down on a loveseat, wiping his balmy hands against his jeans as Cress rested herself anxiously in the straight-backed chair across from him.

"Selene Linh," Kai exhaled bracingly. His nerves were anxious and twittering with adrenaline. He didn't want to tell Cress Darnel about the tragedy that had happened to her once-best-friend; not when she was staring at him with her huge, innocent blue eyes tinged with worry. He wanted information, not to be the bearer of bad news, even if Selene was alive.

The real question was: why hadn't Selene kept in contact with anyone? Was it simply a way to protect herself from those who had treated her unkindly, or was there something more? What if she had run away to hide and never be found rather than to simply escape?

"She got in an accident." Kai watched as Cress began to shake, gripping the arms of her chair. "She– She's okay, or at least she will be, but it was bad."

An empty, painful silence filled the room. The light seemed to make Cress's eyes shine brighter than normal, or maybe it was related to the way her lips were quivering. Kai waited for her to say something, but a sort of devastation appeared to be keeping her mute.

"I need to know what was happening to Selene before she ran away. I want to understand her, and you're the only person I have left. Please, please help me." Kai clasped his hands in front of him, sitting forward in his chair and waited.

Cress cleared her throat, biting her lip anxiously. "Selene was a girl with too many secrets. She told me some of them, but... I don't know the whole story. Selene always had a darkness about her— almost as if her shadow was a living being there to torture her forever."

A shiver ran down Kai's spine at her words. Kai had sensed that sort of energy on Selene when he had found her in the burning remains of her car. She had the nature of an avenging angel from Hell, both dark and beautiful and terribly misunderstood.

"Selene always told everyone that her mother was in prison, arrested for drugs and whatnot. Even on her records that's what is put down. But it's not true." Cress's skin shone pale in the dark house. Fear etched across her face like an ugly scar, striking terror into Kai's bones.

Cress glanced around, her breathing heavy. Kai could tell she was preparing to divulge an awful truth. "Her mother–"

Kai's phone rang, causing the couple to jump, and Cress to let out a little yelp. Kai pressed a hand to his heart to steady it, preparing to reject the call before he saw the name.

Thorne.

That could only mean one thing. Something had happened with Selene.

"I'm so sorry, Cress, but I have to take this." Kai stood, all thoughts of Selene's past forgotten. Cress sagged in her seat, part from relief and something else that Kai couldn't quite dissect. She didn't even say anything as Kai cupped the phone to his ear and left the room.

"Thorne," Kai said eagerly, stalking to the door. "What happened? Is she–"

"Yeah, Sel– Ow! Would you stop that?" Thorne exclaimed, leaving Kai to wonder what was happening on the other end of the phone. Was Iko beating Thorne with a tongue depressor, or was Selene a fighter?

Muffled talking continued in the background, and Kai heard the voice of a girl and a defensive Thorne. He better not have tried flirting with her the second she awoke, Kai thought.

Thorne came back on the phone, his voice half agitated and half amused. "The girl, she's awake." Thorne huffed. "And I've got to admit, I much preferred her asleep."

[chimpukampu]

Time Traveler’s Bug 02

Summary: It was summer when Adrien, an ex-superhero and a widower of three kids, found his wife’s unconscious-but-alive body near her grave. How did it happen? What is she doing there? And why does she still have the Ladybug Miraculous?

(or alternatively, Ladybug got hit by an Akuma and transported to the future)

Big shout out to @whimstories for beta-ing this!

"Maman!" wailed Hugo, reaching out for the unconscious heroine. But before he could touch her, his hand was grabbed immediately by Emma.

"No, Hugo…" she murmured as tears began to leak out from her bluebell eyes. She wasn't sure whether to let her younger brother go to hug Ladybug, or stop him before the reality could crush his hopes.

Emma knew about Hugo's sufferings when their Maman died, and now that she was back - not from the grave apparently - she wanted to make sure that her younger brother will not going to suffer from sleepless nights looking for their mother again.

"Maman!" the boy cried again, but this time he was flailing his arms wildly to escape from his sister's clutches. "Let me go, Em! That's Maman, right? Maman! Maman!"

"Hugo…please...please, stop..." Louis stepped in as he knelt down in front of his screaming brother then pulled him for a tight hug. "We...we don't…"

'We don't know if that's our Maman or not' were the words he wanted to say but not in front of his youngest sibling.

"Papa?" Emma glanced at their father who was dead silent while staring at Ladybug's sleeping face. "That's...that's Maman, right?"

Unfortunately, Adrien remained unresponsive as his mind was bombarded by several questions.

What is she doing here? How did she end up here? Was she hit by an Akuma?

Of course, he cursed mentally, that's why she's here as Ladybug.

He tried to recall all the Akuma names and powers that could possibly transport her to the future, but so far, none came up. The nearest that he could think of was Chronogirl, but he never time-traveled when he took the hit before. Though Numéric was able to trap him to a different dimension twice, his power didn't teleport him to the future. Besides, he was good at keeping tabs on his partner's well-being.

Unless she lied and kept the information all by herself.

But why? He asked himself again, rattling his memory bank for some news clips or Ladyblog posts he might've missed. We made an oath not to keep secrets to each other. We even made that promise before we got married.

Why are you here, Marinette?

"Papa?" Emma called his attention twice, and when she received no response, she decided to approach him. Her shoulder tap jolted him back to reality "Papa, are you okay?"

"Uh…" he sniffled, wiping his stray tears with the back of his hand. "I'm fine, munchkin."

Adrien's heart shattered at the sight of his kids, especially on Hugo who was mumbling 'Maman' repeatedly under his breath. But before he could say something, a familiar beep from Ladybug's earrings caught their attention.

"W-we have to move out," he told them mournfully, balancing Ladybug's weight on his arms as he stood up. He was relieved that his leg therapy paid off.

"Are we going to the hospital, Papa?" Louis asked.

"No, my kitten," his father answered. "We're going home."

But first, he thought to himself as he eyed the remaining spots on the superheroine's earrings, Ladybug must strip off her costume.

They didn't have a personal vehicle or a driver to call, and while he can hire an Uber or any service company with private cars, he didn't want to risk her detransforming in public. Not to mention some possible setbacks after she released her transformation.

He wasn't sure what caused her to travel to the future, and with the swollen bruise on her right temple and the noticeable burn marks that spattered on her skin, he knew from experience that her body absorbed the worst blow. Dropping her transformation by force might cause some undesirable reactions.

If she remained transformed, her Miraculous power can speed up her healing process.

That is if he knows how to extend her transformation.

Adrien led his children to an isolated part of the cemetery, just behind a big mausoleum surrounded by the bushes. With that loud explosion, he thought he might meet some bypassers or authorities along their way, but so far none of that happened.

They found a patio with a stone table and benches , which were luckily unoccupied, so he placed Ladybug gently on the table and used Louis' rolled overshirt to cushion her head.

Then the second beep sounded.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

Louis bit his quivering lips "Is...Is she okay?"

She.

Adrien might be oblivious as a person but not as a father towards his children. He had his fair share when he was raised by an indifferent father, and ever since then, he swore to himself not to be like Gabriel Agreste who decided to hide his wife behind his grieving son's knowledge.

That, as a son, he deserved to know his mother's state.

Adrien couldn't deny the heavy tension in the air, and after giving a second thought, he croaked "I - I'm not sure, my kittens, if...if Maman is okay or not."

His answer turned on their waterworks, and this time, the kids didn't hold themselves back from moving closer to Ladybug but careful enough not to touch her bruised body.

"Why is Maman so young?" Emma asked. "And why is she wounded?"

"That's Tikki in her earrings, right?" Louis added just in time with the third beep.

Adrien simply shook his head as he mustered all of his strength to keep his emotions at bay. "We'll know after the timer ends."

"Maman will be here forever right?" Hugo sniffed, his stubby hand caressing the tips of Ladybug's hair. "Maman is not gonna leave us again, right?"

That question alone drove a lance to Adrien's heart.

The last spot on Ladybug's earrings blinked, followed by a flash of pink lights that enveloped her body, dissolving her red spandex costume and replacing it with a familiar pink capri pants, a white shirt and a dark gray blazer, and when her spotted mask disappeared from her face, Adrien couldn't help himself but weep.

"Oh, Princess…" he choked, burying his head between the crook of her neck as fresh batches of tears welled on his green eyes. "My Lady…Mari..."

There was a faint electronic burnt smell on her skin mixed with a citrus perfume he remembered she always used when they were in lycée. Her clothes were not tattered, though there was a smear of chocolate on her sleeve, which told him that she was either eating something with chocolate fillings or having a bakery mishap before the akuma attack.

His kids were sobbing uncontrollably as they huddled near him, yet despite those loud cries, a familiar grunt made him sit bolt up straight.

There on his side was a red kwami squinting and trying to move around.

"Marinette…" the kwami moaned, "Are you al-"

"Tikki!" Hugo exclaimed as he scooped her hastily, which caught her off guard "I miss you!"

Her blue eyes blinked rapidly at the sudden change of scenery, only to round like saucers when she saw Adrien's adult state.

"Long time no see, Tikki," the blond greeted with a smile. "And welcome to the future."

.

.

.

There was nothing more awkward than riding a taxi with three sniffling kids, an undisclosed quantic god, and a battered time-traveler wife sleeping on her future husband's lap.

Adrien had to hide how he squirmed in his seat every time the driver checked his side mirror with an inquisitive gaze. He even caught him eyeing his communicator, which only increased his anxiety and fear that he might report an 'unusual passenger' without him knowing and either end them cornered by a police car or him being raided in his home for interrogations.

The blond might be able to justify their red blotched eyes since they came from a cemetery, but not the visible injuries from the girl without revealing her identity.

So he uttered, "She fell from a tree," off-handedly, believing that the driver would buy his lie.

Thankfully, he didn't pry further or engage in a conversation. He just remained silent yet apprehensive all throughout their ride until they reached their destination.

"You better have her checked for fractures," he told him cooly then left before the blond could give him an answer.

It was pretty late and beyond the bakery's operating hours, so Adrien wasn't surprised when his assistants left the premise with a Closed sign flipped on the glass door. He was relieved that no one was snooping around when they entered the house as he wasn't sure how to handle an onslaught of questions, especially his neighbors, about his dead wife's younger form.

His kids were milling around him as he deposited Marinette to the master's bed. He knew they wanted to be helpful, so he decided to give them a specific task - Emma on preparing the hot water and towels while Louis on looking for medicines and some burn ointments.

And Hugo?

"Why don't you look for delicious cookies for Tikki?"

"Even the super delicious ultra chocolate-y ones?" he asked with bluebell eyes brimming with excitement.

"Even the super delicious ultra chocolate-y ones," his father chuckled.

"Oui!" the boy answered, placing the red kwami gently on the duvet then patted her head much to her amusement "Be a good girl, Tikki, and don't move there until Papa says so!"

"He called me a good girl," Tikki commented as Hugo padded outside the room.

"You've always been a good girl, Tik."

"His enthusiasm reminds me of Marinette. He even looks like Marinette."

"Sometimes it blows my mind how similar they were," Adrien muttered then averted his gaze towards the kwami's blue orbs.

"I'm sorry, Adrien," the kwami bowed apologetically "I don't think I can even imagine the pain and hardships you've faced, not to mention raising your kids alone."

He shook his head. "It's okay, Tikki. We've survived and moved on."

"Your kids are wonderful, Adrien."

"They're a trooper, Tikki. They've been raised well. She raised them well."

"You both raised them well," she corrected, then pawed the golden surface of his wedding ring "You've sacrificed a lot - not only for your family but also for the people in Paris."

"What happened Tikki?" the blond asked, "Why did Marinette end up here?"

"I'm not really sure, Adrien. You know that kwamis are not aware of the happenings around our holders when they're transformed, right?" He nodded briskly at her words. "The last thing I remembered was Marinette calling her transformation after receiving an akuma alert. She had to excuse herself to use the bathroom - "

"Wait, what do you mean by 'excuse herself to use the bathroom'?" he interjected, "Was she at school during the attack?"

"Well, yeah. Few weeks after the start of the autumn term."

So that falls probably around October...and today's month is July. Adrien thought solemnly, Maybe the akuma that hit her has a different approach towards time traveling?

"Any idea about the akuma's powers? How about the name?"

Tikki simply shook her head.

"Do you think we can call Master Fu?" the kwami proposed. "I know this is the future, but I presume the Guardian is well, and I'm sure he can cure Marinette and...Adrien?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Tik," the blond sighed glumly. "But Master Fu is long gone."

She gasped. "Bu-but how about the Miraculous? W-who's taking care - "

"Master Fu took it," was his answer much to the red kwami's shock.

"Tha - that can't be…"

"A few years ago, a decade after we defeated Mayura and Papillion, Master Fu sacrificed his life to bring the Miracle Box to the Old Temple - including the ladybug and black cat Miraculous," said Adrien morosely. "To be destroyed there."

[fallen029]

A Dragon’s Love.10: Denouement

Previous Chapter

There was once, when he was really young, that Orion could remember Mirajane telling him about her parents.

Not that she didn't after that. Because she did. But it was always in passing and hardly ever any real details.

No, most of his knowledge from that time came from a fuzzy memory of being five or six and waiting for her to tell him a bedtime story. Only, that night she was coming up with nothing. He'd heard about Edolas and Phantom. Knew everything about what preceded the seven-year lapse and the major events to follow. He'd heard everything.

So Mira went further into her memory bank and told him about something completely different.

"You know," she said softly as they snuggled up on his tiny mattress. "When I was your age, I wasn't even in Magnolia yet. I lived in this tiny village with your Aunt Lisanna and Uncle Elfman. And, of course, my mother and father too."

"Really?"

"Mmmhmm." She smiled softly about then, but whether it was at him or just from the thought alone he couldn't recall. Just that it was nice, like always. Comforting. "We lived in this little hut. Even smaller than our house. Everyone was always in someone's way, but…I'd never been happier than when I was there. Until you."

Then she probably snuggled him or something else silly and just so like her then before she continued.

He couldn't remember everything that she said, but he did know that she went on and on about how much fun she and her brother and sister used to have, when they were kids. That her mother would a tad stricter than her father, but that was okay, because they loved her all the same. And even when she was scolding them for something, their father would be making just as strong a case for them as to why they shouldn't be punished. He never liked to get them in trouble. He never would either.

"He was just so happy, you know," his mother whispered. "To have a family. To have us. He loved us. He spoiled us, too, but out of love. He didn't know any better. He'd grown up all by himself, with no one. So when he met my mother, that's the first thing he wanted. Children. I think if it had been up to him, I would have had a thousand other siblings, but then, it wasn't all his choice, was it?"

She told him, that night, all about how she used to love spending time with her father and that it was her mother that taught her how to cook. Oh, and that she must have spent every day playing with Elfman and Lisanna. They'd do everything together. They had an even stronger bond back then, if it was possible.

"But then," she mumbled eventually. "Papa got sick. Very sick. And we didn't catch it, whatever it was, but only because we weren't the ones taking care of him. My mother was. And when she got it, she just couldn't fight it like he was. She died within weeks. And without her…Papa never had a chance."

Orion remembered just laying there, staring up at her as his own mother's similar deep blues filled with tears at the memory. The woman cried at everything. From when he first said a word to the time she was able to sense all his latent magic ability, Mirajane was just a sobber. So watching her do so was never too big a deal for him. That time though, it made him feel odd. He was so young, but he knew a thing or two about comforting someone. She did it for him enough.

So he only reached up to wipe at her eyes, like she would do for him if the roles were reversed.

"Don't cry," he whispered as she sniffled a little. "It's okay. We don't gotta talk about it. We can go to sleep."

"Awe, Ori. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all sad." She snuggled him some more, probably. She liked to do that a lot when he was little. "I just…I was thinking about how my father would hate it."

"Hate what?" He was still just staring up at her then, about ready to fall asleep finally. "Mommy?"

"That I'm making you grow up all alone," she told him, her grin returning then. "He would probably scold me on it. That you deserve brothers and sisters and-"

"No."

"No?"

He'd seen the other kids in the guild, with their siblings and having to put up with them. Not to mention share their parents. He only had one at that! He couldn't risk something like that. Some other brat coming in, taking his toys, and his mother. It'd always just been him and Mira and he was fine with it staying that.

Other than, like, if his father suddenly came into the picture. Back then, he'd have been all for that. Of course, he probably didn't grasp that a man would only force him to share Mirajane as well, but the follies of youth and all.

"I don't want a brother or sister," he insisted as he stared at her, as if willing her to agree with him. "Okay?"

"Why not, Ori?"

Because she was his mother and his only. And what if she liked the new kid better than him? That wouldn't be any good. Not at all. He'd heard about parents having favorites and, while he couldn't see him not being Mira's, he also didn't want to take the risk.

Not that there weren't moments of weakness over his childhood where he wished that he had someone to play with, someone to gripe with, or even someone to fight with. He'd never really gotten along well with the other kids and never had a close friend. Though there was no guarantee that a sibling would provide such a thing for him, it was a haunting thought at times.

Then, at the age of eighteen, the worst happened.

Mira finally got that coveted second child.

There was a lot preceding it, of course, and none of it had been pleasant for Orion. Mira gave him an option, not soon after he returned from his first ever S-Class job. She and Laxus, apparently, were rekindling their relationship, but only at his discretion.

"I'm not putting pressure on you," she was quick to tell him. "Honest, Ori. If this makes you uncomfortable, that's fine. Believe me; this isn't really that big of a deal to me. I've been fine without Laxus. And I can tell that this bothers you, so, you know what? We just won't. Okay?"

And that was okay with him. He didn't want his mother having anything to do with Laxus, really. From that point forth, he figured that he would go ahead and make it his own personal mission to keep them apart. It went pretty well for a month or two.

Until his mother got sick.

At first, he didn't notice it much. He was taking jobs then and she was working so much up at the guild that they missed one another a lot and only got glimpses of each other. But the few down times he had at the house, he picked up on her fatigue. His mother was always tired, of course, but it seemed more and more like she couldn't get out of bed. And constantly she would mention her headaches and how none of the pills she was taking were helping anything.

His Aunt Lisanna suggested she go to the doctor, but Mira didn't seem to want to. He wondered later if it was because she knew. Or at least suspected and was fearful of finding out the truth. Of admitting the truth.

He was out of town on a job when she collapsed up at the guildhall. From what he heard, Laxus was there and, when she came too, he personally took her to see a doctor, claiming that he wouldn't allow her to work again until she went.

Orion arrived back in Magnolia to find him mother claiming that she was fine and the doctors were just being overly cautious and that he had nothing to worry about.

Everyone else didn't seem to have that same outlook.

It was the catalyst for him and Laxus finally speaking again, as it was. They'd both avoided one another since Orion had told Mirajane that he did not, under any circumstance, want her to date (or whatever they did) Laxus again. It had pissed Laxus off and try many times to get Orion alone, demanding to speak with him, but the boy had always kept his distance and, well, for Orion things had been going great on that side.

Laxus? Not so much.

It aggravated him that Mira was just going to let Orion decide their lives for them. Not that the boy's opinions didn't matter to him, but for him to just flat out decide to not give Laxus a chance ruined everything. He was ready to come and, not necessarily parent the boy as he was sure Orion would reject that, but definitely go back to that role model staple he'd been in his life for years. He wanted to show him that it hadn't been that he didn't want him, but rather that he did want him and Mira that kept him from revealing the truth to him.

But Mirajane shut that down. Told him not to speak with Orion about the curse or, really, anything until the boy was ready to forgive him. From Laxus point of view, that was lunacy. Orion was still just a teenager. Fine, he had the freedoms of an adult in some aspects, but that didn't mean that he was ready to make all the decisions in life. Laxus was certain that if Mira just forced him to accept them, then, eventually, he wouldn't know any better. He'd see Laxus as his father and everything would be great.

Only, they didn't get a chance to try that out. Because with Mirajane's sickness, Laxus decided it was time to supersede her and tell Orion the truth. Explain things to him. After all, if she did end up passing and it was just the two of them left, he wanted to have the boy back on his side and not lost forever.

When Orion arrived to find her sick though, the last thing he wanted to do was be away from his mother. So it wasn't easy for Laxus to corner him alone, but eventually, with the help of Ever, he managed.

Orion had shown up at his aunt and uncle's place planning on meeting with the woman. She'd requested he come over and help her move around some furniture or something. He wasn't sure why Elfman wouldn't be better suited for that and, when he got there, he found it was because there was no heavy lifting involved. Just a deadbeat that he wanted nothing to do with.

"Orion," Laxus tried when, upon entering through the backdoor, the teen found him there and tried to turn right back around. "Don't-"

"Hey." Ever was there too, standing near the backdoor, and moved to grab him by the arm and drag him in. He could have fought her, of course, but he was never one to openly be disobedient towards his aunts. "You two need to talk about this. Come here. Sit down."

"No. I-"

"Now."

She drug him over to the kitchen table then as he only called out for his uncle to help him.

"Elfman's at the hall," she said simply as she forced him into a chair. "Now stay. The two of you have a lot to discuss."

"Traitor," he hissed at her as she headed out of the room. That got her to freeze, if only for a moment, but not turn back to get him.

He was left alone with his father.

"You can leave," Laxus was quick to say as the boy glared over at the backdoor. "But I just want to tell you something first. And it won't fix anything and it won't absolve anything, but-"

"What?" Orion hissed. "You gonna tell me about some other bastard you have or something?"

"No," Laxus said slowly. "And you really shouldn't call yourself-"

"What?" he insisted. "What do you-"

"I know why your mother's sick," the man told him. "And I…I know why she won't get better."

That was the first Orion had heard of the curse and, of course, his first reaction was pure hatred. Of Laxus. That he would let something so stupid be the thing that separated them. He was right about one thing though. It didn't absolve him of anything.

For some reason though and, he couldn't quite understand it, Orion felt pretty dang upset with his mother too. Extremely upset. And it culminated as, after leaving Ever's house following him chewing Laxus out again (the man managed to just sit there and take it), he went home to where his mother was resting in her room, bypassing his Aunt Lisanna's request that he leave her be and went in there to yell at her a little too.

But he couldn't. When he got in there and found her looking less than well, he couldn't yell at her. Only fall into bed with her and let her stroke his hair.

"What's wrong?" she asked after a moment or two and he only sniffled. "Ori? Did someone say something? Was it Lisanna? I told her that I'm fine, but she keeps insisting-"

"You wouldn't tell me who my father was because of a curse?" He lifted his head from where it was resting on the mattress, just to say that. "Really?"

Her face then became contorted, just from his question alone. "Who told you about-"

"It's true then?" he asked. Though he was still a little ticked at Evergreen, he didn't want to get her in trouble.

"No. I mean, well, yes, but I don't believe in the curse. I just-"

"So something that you don't even believe in made you-"

"It didn't matter what I believed, Orion," she insisted as she frowned at him. "Laxus believes in it. And the Master did too. They-"

"So they made you not tell me? All the times that you had a chance to, but they made you-"

"No," she sighed. "But Laxus believes so completely in it that I… I decided that if he didn't want you to know, then he didn't have a right to you. I didn't want him around then. I-"

"Then why did you let him be around?"

"Orion, it's not-"

"And what about my rights? Or what I deserve? Or does that not matter to you?"

"Of course it does. Ori, listen to me. Do you think that if the option was available to have someone care for you with me, to not be alone all the time, to have someone that had to wake up in the middle of the night to care for you, I wouldn't have taken it? Because I would have. But if I told you that Laxus was your father, he'd have only denied it. He told me as much. He thought that the only way to keep me safe was to keep you from knowing. He honestly still believes that. If it wasn't for Makarov-"

"Is it?"

"Is what?"

"Is the reason you're sick…because of me?"

She was quick to sit up then. "Orion, of course not. Don't even say that."

"But it's true, isn't it? You're sick because I-"

"I am not." And even though she wasn't much up for anything that day, she moved to take his cheeks in her hands and press a few kisses to his head. "You," she added, "have nothing to do with that. Is that what they told you? Who was it? Was it Laxus?"

Slowly, he nodded as her eyes grew darker. "He said that he had to tell me. So I knew. So that-"

"It's complete and utter bull, Orion." And that was the closest his mother usually came to using profanity around him. "So don't believe it."

"But you're sick."

"I am not."

"Mom-"

"I'm not." And she sounded like she believed it. He, however, wasn't convinced. "I'm fine. And I'm going to keep being fine for a long time. So don't think otherwise."

"Where are you going?" he asked then as, after pressing one last kiss to his forehead, she moved to get out of bed. "Mom?"

"I have a certain guild master to go see."

He asked her not to, told her that she shouldn't be out of bed, but she ignored him and Lisanna when she heard of the plan. Mira was on a mission then and, honestly, Orion was just glad he wasn't on the receiving end of her rage.

His mother didn't get better though, despite her insistence otherwise. She had days where she was fine and even able to go into work, but then she had others where getting out of bed was impossible and there was no way she honestly still believed she was as fine as she claimed.

It was horrible. But not as horrible as swallowing his resentment and anger when he told her that he wanted her to be happy and, if Laxus was that happiness, then he was fine with that. He'd listened to the doctors, even though she refused to.

Mira didn't have long.

And, apparently, his mother and Laxus did love one another. He didn't understand it, didn't want to, really, but also didn't want her to be alone. She clearly didn't want to be alone and, well, it wasn't fair of him to force her to stay that way. He could, at times, justify in his own mind that it wasn't fair for the two of them to be together, not after wrecking his life so terribly. They didn't deserve to be happy. Not if he couldn't be.

But then he'd remember how much he loved his mother and, honestly, deep down still revered Laxus and there just wasn't any way that he could do that to them. Not just to her, but them. Laxus, though Orion hated to say it, hadn't been all that bad since thee revelation came out. He annoyed the hell out of him, trying to talk to him constantly, but mostly the man seemed more concerned with Mirajane. Making sure that she took breaks, if she ate, did she want someone to go with her to her doctor's visit, what about dinner? Was there someone to make her dinner? Because she wasn't well enough to do it. He'd make it if he had to. Did she want him to?

It was never-ending. The man was honestly worried about Mirajane. Orion couldn't hate him for it. He tried. Really, he did. Grumbled about how if he cared so much, he wouldn't have been so absentee in their lives for so long.

That was the thing though. The one hang up. He hadn't been. At all. He'd been around Orion since he could remember. And, if his words were true, been paying his mother jewels the entire time to help with bills and toys and whatever else the boy wanted. Imagine his surprise when his mother told him that, actually, that nice, shiny red bike he'd wanted when he was seven was bought with the jewels Laxus had given her purely for that reason.

Not to mention the fact that the man, apparently, was only out of his mother's life in tiny intervals. They were routinely together behind his back for years. So there was no way to say that the relationship was dead or even that Laxus had neglected it.

They were together. His parents were. He was pretty sure most people would be excited about that, but he just couldn't force himself to be. He was angry. He was upset. He was confused. He was hurt. But he wasn't happy. And he couldn't fake it. Not even for his mother.

She didn't want to take him up on his suggestion at first, that she and Laxus try dating. She only told him that she had much more important things on her mind then and that she knew that it still made him uncomfortable, regardless of his insistence otherwise.

So it took a lot more sucking up of pride when Orion went to Laxus personally one day at the guildhall and spoke to him.

The Master was filling out some forms at a table, off by himself, and didn't seem to be in too good a mood. It was usually rather easy to judge whether he was or not. If he was, then he'd have the Thunder Legion hanging off him or would sit up at the bar, where he could talk to Mirajane. That day, Mira was sick at home and, though Evergreen was around, Laxus sat alone.

Orion didn't know why, but he felt a tightness in his chest as he approached his master and it only grew as he came to a stop in front of the table, his heavy boots thudding loudly before they got there. There was no way that Laxus didn't know someone was coming over to him and, slowly, the man looked up.

They just stared at one another for a moment and Orion hated that tug he felt. The one he always felt. His idol was disgraced, fine, but for so long he'd been held in such a high esteem that it was hard to see him otherwise.

"Yes?" Laxus finally prompted when Orion only stared him. "Did you need something?"

He felt like a child again, addressing an unapproachable man. His hero. Needless to say, Orion's throat felt as if it was housing his stomach.

"You can date my mom."

That's not what he wanted to say. At all. But just talking to the man was unfeasible and, really, that would have been the gist of what he wanted to say. He just wished that it had been said in a much less childish way.

"What?" Laxus was understandably confused. "Orion-"

"You just can," he insisted before turning away. "But you better do it right if you're going to. Because I'm S-Class now too. And I could take your ass out if I wanted."

There. The end was a little better (not by much). Laxus didn't try and stop him either from walking off. Just let him go. And, not a week and a half later, Mira asked him if he was really okay with it before she went off on her first date with Laxus.

And man if he didn't have to bite his tongue. A lot. As the dates shifted from weekly to nearly every night, maybe with a day or so in between, it was like Orion couldn't escape his parents love. Laxus started buying her gifts not soon after that. And, of course, somehow figured it was a good idea to buy Orion things as well.

It was not.

If there was anything that Orion picked up from the man, it was his stubbornness. He refused to use, look at, or even ride (the guy bought a motorcycle, claiming it was for himself, but left it parked over at Mira's and hinted at Orion frequently he could borrow it) anything that came from his father. He couldn't be bought.

That didn't stop Laxus from giving him things. And, even though the teen wasn't around much, off on jobs or visiting his girlfriend, the influx of gifts never ceased. Laxus would just leave things in his bedroom. And, when Orion complained to Mirajane that that was an invasion of privacy and there was no way that Laxus should be allowed access to his room, the man just started leaving the gifts on the kitchen table, or in front of his bedroom door.

Laxus was nothing if not persistent. He seemed determined to at least make Orion acknowledge him, but he refused. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

Time went on. Mirajane didn't seem to be getting any better and, after around seven moths of dating, Laxus went to Orion and told him that he wanted to ask Mirajane to marry him.

He about hit the man. Really, he did. What did he want him to do with that information? Huh? What could he do with it? He hated Laxus. He blamed Laxus for ruining everything. And his mother wasn't well enough for such a thing anyways.

But Laxus insisted that that last one was why he wanted to do it. She'd never made it clear to him, fine, but she did want to be married. She always had. It was one of the things that she'd dreamed about forever. And Laxus let it slip also that she wanted to have another child and was fearful of what Orion would think.

Which, by the way, Orion wouldn't care about. Not really. Had it been with anyone else. Some other guy who, maybe, he grew to respect or at least like and that treated her well (like Laxus was) and that there was no animosity towards. If that was what Mirajane wanted then how could he complain? She'd given up years raising him alone. All by herself. If she wanted to be married and happy and have another kid, he didn't take it as an insult at him. He knew that she loved him. It was just her going after what most people did. A happy family.

But Laxus? Seriously? The man that had shattered that chance before? Over a curse? A damn curse?

Orion didn't want to tell him okay. He could tell that's what Laxus wanted and, really, he didn't want to give anything to the man. But once again, taking away from his father would only result in hurting his mother. And, after holding out for awhile, he had no choice, but to cave.

It wasn't like a ring and a ceremony would make things any different. Laxus was already staying the night. Mira had run that by him first too. He knew, of course, that she and Laxus were sleeping together. She'd been staying over at his apartment before the first time she asked if it would bother him, Laxus coming around the house, and though it annoyed and disgusted him, he only shrugged at the question. What else could he do?

Mira was very courteous to him though. Of course. She never had Laxus over when he was around. Or at least tried not to. He would only spend the night if Orion was out on a job though, more than once, he'd come home to find the man's jacket or boots somewhere in the living room which made him gag before rushing to his own room to throw the covers over his head and hope that Laxus just left in the morning.

He never did. They almost always had some sort of run-in when daybreak came. Either Orion would be leaving the shower at the same time Laxus was coming out of Mira's room or they'd both somehow end up in the kitchen, looking for something to eat. It was horribly awkward, especially because Laxus was intent on making small talk with him during those times and just…ugh. It was hell. Torture. Unadulterated.

To make matters worse, after the engagement, Laxus and Mira decided it was time to tackle living together. As he understood it, the two of them never had and, though Mira asked him first, again, it was impossible to make a complaint. How could he? He was trying more and more to just not be at the house, but that also was keeping him further and further away from his mother. It was impossible to balance.

Add on top of that that Laxus had, at some point, told Mirajane that Orion was seeing some girl in some other town and, well, there was just no way to be around the house. Mira was always asking about her and wanting to meet her and getting on his nerves with her extremely personal and gauche questions that, sure, as his parent she probably had a right to know, but that she couldn't bring herself to ask directly and he didn't ever feel much up for answering.

Not that things were easy on that front either. It wasn't long after Mirajane and Laxus' wedding that Orion just got so hard to deal with (he was never in a good mood, hardly came around, and when he did, he just wanted to rant about his father), that he finally got broken up with. As if he needed another problem in his life.

He got to a point where he didn't even want to go home. He just took jobs constantly, only staying in Magnolia long enough to check in with Mirajane and, maybe, Erza or one of his aunts. He didn't care about much else.

Mirajane only got worse, it seemed, as time progressed. There was no cure for her ailments and, eventually, she'd only manage to go down to the hall once or twice a week. She mostly just stayed home, miserable and alone. Orion was gone on jobs and Laxus had to go to the hall. He was the Master.

She finally had both her boys, but she couldn't ever find time to be with either of them. It was maddening.

Orion figured that was why she was so excited when she got pregnant some months later. And it was. Partially. Of course a big part of it was that she'd always wanted to have another child, but the idea of having something to do during the day was great. Laxus didn't seem to think the same way though.

They'd argued over even trying for another child, before he proposed. He claimed that the curse was already in effect (bleh) and that having another baby might speed things along. She only told him that if what he was saying was true and she was cursed, it wouldn't be getting any better. And she wanted another baby. She always had. If he couldn't' give that to her, then what was the point of toying around with one another?

She got her way, of course, in the end, but did hate to admit that he had been right about something. The pregnancy weakened her. A lot. Not that she would say it had anything to do with the curse, but really the cause didn't matter. Being pregnant on top of having her energy drained constantly to begin with wasn't easy. And those final months had been unbearable. Mira just had to keep reminding herself of the end result that she desired so much to keep her spirits high.

Laxus tried to gather enthusiasm as well. It wasn't easy. Orion's resistance to him was still bothering the man deeply. He wasn't sure how he could deal with another child, a baby at that, when he couldn't even get his other one to talk to him. Look at him. Acknowledge his presence. How could he possibly keep a baby under control with that on his plate?

Not to mention, he hated seeing Mira the way she was. She was clearly sick and the pregnancy hadn't helped anything. There was nothing he could do, of course, but hope for the best. He tried a thousand things, spells, chants, whatever to get rid of the curse. But to no avail.

Mira was leaving him. He just knew it. All he could hope for was that he had her for another year or so and that his baby was healthy. With Mirajane refusing the validity of the curse and calling it poor coincidence that she was sick at the same time Orion found out, there wasn't much else Laxus could do for her. He felt helpless. And hopeless.

And then his daughter was born. Not that it brought any of the attention off the fact that Mirajane was only continuing to get worse or that Orion was even more distant, but it was definitely a silver lining in all of it. She was so perfect. She exhausted him, honestly, as Mirajane was frequently too tired or sickly to deal with her, and though Lisanna and the Thunder Legion were over frequently, late nights were left for him.

Mirajane tried hard to help out though. She wanted to do everything she could. After all, she knew for certain that it would be her last child and, well, that made everything that much more special.

And, in the back of her mind, though she was stark against the idea of a curse being the cause of her ailment, she knew that her time was short. It had been for awhile. She didn't know how much longer she had and every moment she did she wanted spent with her baby. And Orion, when he was around.

The weaker she got, the more he was. Mirajane could tell though that that wasn't any fun for him. He was young. It wasn't fair to waste his youth on sitting around the house with her, recanting old stories and memories, forcing him to help her tend to his younger sister. She didn't want him to resent any missed opportunities because of her.

He felt the exact opposite. He could tell, even though he didn't like to think about it, that the time was short. Orion loved his mother and the worst part of it all was watching her deteriorate. Maybe even worse than knowing that he caused it.

Not that he liked the idea of a curse, but it wasn't like he could escape it either. Since Laxus planted it in his brain, it had only festered. Of course, he could never be for certain, but what in life was?

It had been such an insurmountable loss, losing the Master the way he had, but his mother… He couldn't even fathom it. She was all he had. She'd always been all he had.

But she was insistent that that wasn't true. He had his aunts and uncle and all of Fairy Tail, really. And, she was always quick to say, he'd always have Laxus. He might not want him, he might never again, but he was always there.

"One day, Ori," she'd whisper to him when they were alone. "You'll wish that you gave him a second chance. He never did any of this to hurt you. He couldn't even stay away from you. Even now he can't. Please, the only thing I want now is for the two of you to come together. To be together. Please."

"Don't talk like that," he'd grumbled back. "The only thing you want. You have a thousand wants. And you have years to get them all done. So don't say otherwise."

But she didn't. And, when Mirajane reached the pinnacle of her sickness, Orion could hardly stand to see her. At the same time, however, he couldn't stand to leave her. He was certain that most everyone felt that way. All of her friends visited frequently and her siblings hardly ever left the house. Laxus, well, he was just as stoic as ever, but Mira told Orion that was because he was hurt. Crushed. He felt like he'd caused it all.

"He did," Orion hissed under his breath once. "He- Hey!"

He was sitting at her bedside as his younger sister sat in their mother's lap, but that didn't stop Mirajane from reaching over and slapping his cheek, if only slightly.

"Don't say that," she told him harshly with a frown. It was hard to even stare her in the eyes anymore. If she'd been pale her entire life, she was almost ghastly then. And she couldn't keep any weight on. She hadn't been eating right in months. He couldn't fight with her at that point. He hadn't been able to in a long time. "Don't ever say that."

"But it's true," he insisted. "If he didn't then, well, I did."

"You've never done anything," she told him then. "I promise you. You've only ever made my life better. I love you."

And he hated it, every time she told him that because all he could do was worry that it would be the last time. Every time they talked he worried that it would be the last time. He didn't want any last times. He wanted forever.

But no one was granted that.

It finally came, not soon after that. His mother's passing. He hadn't cried that openly over something in years. It wasn't fair. How could you only ever have one person there for you your entire life and then lose them? What was he supposed to do?

What were any of them supposed to do?

He couldn't be in the house after that. Even though it had been his home since he was born, he couldn't stand the thought of staying in it. After all, with his mother gone, it didn't belong to the Strauss family anymore. It belonged to the Dreyars. Laxus and his sister. He wasn't one of them. And he refused to ever be associated with them.

He went to stay with Erza. She was nice enough. She'd let him stay there since the funeral and then afterwards. In her own weird, straight-forward way, she was very comforting. He could tell that all she wanted was for him to feel better, but he didn't think he ever would again.

It had been so horrible. Her funeral. He was supposed to stand with Laxus, but he couldn't. He couldn't be with any of them. He was mad at everyone. And it was worse than when Makarov had died because his mom wasn't there to explain it all away. Make it all better.

He'd been wrong before. He wasn't alone when the Master left him. But he was then. He figured he'd better just get used to it. Solitude. He'd be stuck in it for the rest of his life.

Not that Laxus felt any better. For something that he'd been avoiding, something he'd known was coming for years, Mira's death blindsided him. As if something had been taken from him and all he could do was watch it happen from behind glass.

There was the guild, for one, that he still had to run. And then there was Orion who, no matter how much he wasn't, felt orphaned and alone. Then, of course, there was his one-year-old daughter who just…cried constantly. He couldn't get away from it. Had she always been that loud? Or had he just not been listening before?

It felt selfish then. All of it did. Having Orion for starters, but then going back and having another child that he'd known would just be motherless in the end. It felt like he and Mira had only been thinking of themselves. And hadn't they? What was Laxus supposed to do with a child, all by himself? When he felt broken to begin with?

Lisanna kept the baby that first week as Laxus just laid around the house, not doing much. All those years of watching Mirajane raise Orion alone, he'd felt…cold. Alienated. But he hadn't been at all. He'd gotten the demon and the boy and everything had been perfect.

Why had he ever tried to have more? Now he really was alone. He didn't know the boy at all anymore and his daughter, well, what was he supposed to do? Mira had cut and run, but he was still there, with an unwinnable situation. How could he handle it all alone?

But then he reminded himself that that was exactly how Mira had felt, all those years. She'd been alone. Sidelined. But she'd figured it all out. He just had to figure it out. That was all.

Orion, however, was figuring a way out. He didn't want to be in Fairy Tail anymore. He didn't want Magnolia or his aunts or his uncle or anyone else. What had they done for him? Huh? Or his mother? He hated them all. More than he ever had before. They'd seen where everything was heading and had never stopped it.

Worst of all, it entered his mind at times that his mother was just as guilty. And wasn't she? Had she not ever pictured where things with Laxus would get them? Curse or no curse, she'd been the one to bring Orion into the world only to completely fuck his life up. And for what? Some stupid guy?

He hated her. He really did. Sometimes. When it was dark and he wanted her to sing to him or tell him a story or just that it would be okay. That's what everyone kept saying. That it would be okay.

But it wouldn't be. How could it be? When your entire life was shattered for, really, no reason at all?

By the third week, Erza told him that he should take a job.

"Not a hard one," she said as he sat at the kitchen table, head rested on it while he stared blankly at the plate of eggs she'd sat in front of him. "Just something to take your mind off things."

There wasn't a job big enough to take his mind off what he was going through. He had no friends, he had no mother, he didn't want the family he did have.

What was left? He'd accomplished his dream early, of being S-Class. He had no other aspirations. Though killing Laxus sounded nice, he'd never see that coming to fruition.

The only thing left for him in Magnolia, really, was his mother. Or at least a promise he'd made to her. He said that he'd always take care of his sister. She'd about cried to him that that was all she wanted from him. That and to be happy. Those two things. That even if it didn't work out with him and Laxus, even if they couldn't at least become friends, then she wanted him to at least love his sister. To take care of her.

And what could he say? Huh? Other than yes? Swear to it. He couldn't break the final promise he made with his mother, could he?

It wasn't fair. None of it was, of course, but that in particular. That she just got to leave all those expectations on him. He hadn't asked for a sister. He didn't want one. He didn't want a family. Not without her. How could he? She'd been his world for years. Forever. Now he was supposed to just forget her and move on? Stay in the same damn place that he'd seen her everyday, so that he could be haunted by her memory constantly?

The whole thing felt cruel. Like a sick, cruel joke. Everything he ever asked for, a father, Laxus, S-Class, all coming on him at once only for the most important thing in the world be taken from him as retribution. Equal carnage for the bitter rewards he'd reaped.

What had he ever done then? Huh? To life? That it would treat him that way? That it hated him so much? What?

He couldn't take it anymore. By the middle of the third week, he decided to just go. He didn't want to be there anymore. He didn't want to be anywhere near Magnolia. His mother's wishes be damned. He couldn't stand Laxus, he didn't want a sister, and hell, if she wasn't there, he didn't want any his family. It was an all or nothing deal.

Facing Erza though was a no go. He couldn't imagine telling her that he was leaving Fairy Tail. That she'd spent all that time training him so that he could just run for the hills when it got hard. That the thing that she loved more than anything was just a caustic sore in his mind that had caused him nothing, but pain.

That she'd failed. That they'd all failed. He couldn't handle other people. He wasn't any good at it. He wasn't his mother. And that he couldn't stand to think about her anymore.

So he left in the middle of the night. Packed up the few things he'd taken over to her place and set out. He never wanted to see that town again. And he never planned to. He'd go far. Maybe a whole other country. Never look back. The past was dead. He could survive on his own.

What other choice did he have?

But he couldn't just leave without seeing her one more time. Or, rather, going to her grave. His mother's. And the Master's. He had to see them. Just one more time. Tell them goodbye.

They were the only ones that deserved it.

The graveyard, understandably, was empty when he got there. It felt eerie too, though he was nearly certain that it had less to do with the dead and more to do with the church looming in the background.

Master's grave was where he went first. He wasn't sure what to say. A few years had passed since the man's death and he'd come to grips in with it along the way. Still, he only rested a hand over the stone and mumbled a prayer for his soul before moving onto his mother's.

He hated it too. Seeing it. Just the sight of the name Dreyar on the end of her name pissed him off. Because she wasn't one. She wasn't! She was a Strauss and so was he and they always had been and why would she ever let them think differently?

What had Laxus given them? Other than turmoil? Nothing! He was just a jerk. A pompous, idiotic jerk who bought his own rhetoric about how great he was. He was one of those damn slayers. Those stupid, cocky slayers with their damn kids that were never nice to Orion, why? What was so wrong with him, huh? What was so bad about him that no one ever wanted him? That no one ever wanted to be around him? Was he that horrible? That even his father didn't want him? And his mother would choose the man over him?

Was he?

Orion hadn't realized it until he felt the soft grass beneath his knees that he'd fallen to them. That he was sobbing. Again. He should have been out of tears by then. Why wasn't he out of tears? He felt so foolish, out there in the open, in the middle of the night, crying over his mother's grave.

He felt weak. And alone. But hadn't he always been? Weak? And alone? Why should then feel any different?

Somehow he lost hours out there. Just sobbing and mourning and feeling sorry for himself. It was pathetic. Something he'd look down on someone else for. Pity someone else for. But there he was doing it. Living it. He was worthless. He was utterly worthless.

No wonder Laxus had never wanted him.

And that was how he found himself, sitting there in the desolate place, not even with his mother's spirit it felt like, just completely isolated from the rest of the world, recalling a thousand memories as they flashed before his eyes. From his mother's smile to what she'd looked like in her casket, all intermingled with thoughts about Laxus and how, no matter what he said, it still hurt, it would always hurt, or that he wanted his aunts to know that even though he was leaving, even though he thought he'd hated them, he couldn't. He never would. Or his Uncle Elf. And Bickslow'd taught him a lot. Did he remember all he'd passed on to him? Because Orion did. He remembered it all. What about Erza? Did she get that she'd been put on the same shelf as his mother? That he loved her just as much? That she meant just as much? And what about the way that his sister would never know him, but what did Orion care? Huh? What difference did it make? What was she to him, but just another way that Laxus had taken his mother from him?

It was a shock to him, when the sun came up. He'd watched it, of course, the sky turn from it's darkness to light blues and then reds.

That, however, wasn't what disturbed him.

"What are you doing out here?"

It was Radic, actually. The older teen was out there, arms full of what looked like gardening supplies, standing over Orion. He only blinked up at him, eyes still filled with tears.

He hadn't seen the other teen recently other than at the funeral. Since the Master's, they'd both steered clear of one another. Radic was around less even than Orion. Honestly, as he was sitting there on his knees, it hit Orion that Radic probably wasn't even a teen anymore. He'd probably finally hit twenty. At least.

And they only stared at one another for a few minutes. Radic's red eyes dead as they stared at the overly emotional blues that Orion was sporting. Time seemed just as frozen for the younger of the two as it had the whole night.

"It's honestly sorry," Radic said after awhile. "That you're still out here crying over her."

Orion couldn't breathe. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to kill him. Murder him. And what better place? But he could only sit and stare.

"She's dead, dumbass." And then he was dropping those gardening supplies. "You think that she'd want you to sit out here for the rest of forever? Huh?"

The most astounding thing he did though was hold a hand out to Orion then. It had to be for the first time in their entire lives. For a moment, Orion wasn't going to take it. Then something crossed his mind, if only for a moment.

It's just a hand.

Slowly, he reached out. And, when he did, Radic only held him in a vice like grip before pulling him stumbling to his feet.

"You should go home," the older of the two said after they stood there for a moment or so, awkwardly. "You-"

"I can't." And he hated it, the way his voice broke. But Orion couldn't help it. Hell, if he could, there's no way he wouldn't have. "I just can't."

"Of course you can," Radic grumbled then, still just staring him in the eyes. They hadn't had that much eye contact in, really, ever. "If you can sit around in a dank cemetery, I'm sure you can brave your own house."

When Orion shook his head, Radic only looked off and sighed. It was clear that he just didn't know what to do with the other guy. That was all. Radic didn't care about him. Of course not. Orion wasn't foolish enough to think that. But it was just like it'd been that day when he was sitting on the cot and Orion had the upper hand. No matter how cutthroat they were with one another, how ruthless, when it was over, it was over.

And it was over.

"Look," the dark headed one tried once more. "Your old man ain't doin' so well. And I get that you hate him. I hate mine. But if he was in as bad a shape as yours was, I'd at least go be around him some. I mean, what do you have left?"

Orion just stared for a moment before saying, "What difference does it make to you?"

"Well, for one, I ain't exactly his favorite person over at the hall," he pointed out. "And I don't think I'll be yours. He starts gettin' these crazy ideas in his head about havin' you like him and kicks me out to help that along, I don't think my pops'll be too happy with me."

"He's an asshole."

"Yeah." Radic even nodded. "But it don't stop you none from wanting to please him, does it? Least it never has me."

And, with that, Radic held out his hand again. That time though, it was just to reach over and punch the other boy in the arm. It stung. He hadn't held back. Then again, he never had.

"Come on," he said as he turned then to walk off. "I gotta head down that way anyways."

That was a lie. There was no way that it wasn't. Radic had clearly been heading to the cemetery to do maintenance or something. He'd have no reason to leave.

But he walked with Orion across town anyways. And it made no sense. Any of it. Did the other guy feel…pity? Or had he changed? Granted, they'd never been close and even less so over the past few years, but change just didn't seem to be something he went for so easily.

And it wasn't. As they went along, Radic grumbled out over the silence what exactly he was doing out in the cemetery.

It was community service of sorts. He'd had a rough couple of two years as well, it seemed. His temperament out on jobs had not been appreciated by local villages and they'd written to the guild. That on top of some property damage he'd done around Magnolia left the Master with a very stern warning. Shape up or ship out.

For some reason, Radic didn't seem to like the latter.

Orion always figured he'd do better with another guild, perhaps even a dark one, where his violent tendencies would be appreciated, but Radic didn't seem to see it that way.

"I've only ever lived here," he admitted quietly at one point, as they walked along in the early morning streets. "I don't have anywhere else to go. All I have is my mother and father."

The words sounded so cowardly, but Orion returned the same sentiment. They were brought up in the guild. And even though he'd been ready to leave before, many times actually, the thought was petrifying. The unknown was, well, unknown. And what happened to you out there held the same name.

"So they told me, the city, that if I couldn't pay to fix the shit I've wrecked, then I owed them," Radic finished. "Big. Now I'm stuck with stupid duties like trash clean up after parades and other shit like that. The worst is tending to the local graveyards. I hate it. It's too damn creepy. And I'm supposed to go out there early in the morning, around dawn. You know, when no one else is around. So no one sees me or whatever." Then he snickered. It sounded so much like the man that he hated that it was almost creepy to Orion. Gihi. Gihi. Did he sound like Laxus when he laughed? He hoped not. "'cept now I guess I gotta go earlier. Huh? Beat out people like you."

Orion didn't know why he walked all that way with Radic. Maybe it was his exhaustion. His mind was mush and he had no choice anyhow. It was either that or be the loser in the graveyard with tearstained cheeks, mumbling to himself incoherently.

He felt odd, too, when they finally got to his house. He and Radic just stood there for a moment or two, staring up at it. The place looked the same. But it sure didn't feel the same.

Had he not cried so much before, Orion might have started tearing up again.

"Well," Radic grumbled finally. "I got some graves and flowers to tend to, yeah?"

Slowly, Orion swallowed before nodding. And even though he didn't speak, Radic still glanced at him.

"It ain't the same without her," he said softly then as he turned to walk off. "And it never will be again. So you just gotta find a new same to look forward to. Even if it sucks ass."

And he knew that was the closest to a condolence he'd ever get from the other guy, so he left it at that. The next time they saw one another, Orion knew it would be different. They'd be back to either avoidance or pure hatred. Even though he reviled the other guy immensely, he hoped that the situation was never reversed.

He truly didn't wish what he was feeling on anyone.

Not even Radic.

The door was unlocked when he got to it. And, pushing in, Orion wasn't ready for what he saw.

He'd never seen Laxus cry before. Honest, he hadn't. Not at Makarov's funeral or his mother's. Never. But there he was, lying on the living room floor, openly doing so.

It wasn't sobs. It hadn't been for the past few days. In fact, the night before, he'd gotten through it without a single tear.

But something hit him that morning, as he lay on the living room floor, trying to play with his daughter, but failing miserably. She was just happily sitting there, next to her father, enjoying her blocks in the oblivious way that only someone so young could possess.

If staring at Radic had been hard, looking Laxus in the eyes then was worse. They were bloodshot and he looked miserable. Orion hated that he looked that miserable. It completely destroyed the desperate opinion that he wanted to keep of the man. As some sort of villain that had not only taken his mother from him, but been the direct cause of her death.

Laxus looked just as devastated as Orion. Just in different ways. He hadn't shaved, didn't look like he'd showered, and, honestly, didn't smell all that great. The past few weeks had been just as hellish for him, after all. As much as Orion didn't like to admit it, he'd lost someone too.

They all had. Not just him.

The first thing that the man took notice of, Orion was sure, was that he had his bag with him. He had to think that he was coming home. Not realizing that he'd been planning on skipping town without a word. He must have thought that he'd come back to him. That he wanted him.

But he didn't. No way did he. Because he didn't need Laxus. He didn't want Laxus. He wanted his mother. All he'd ever wanted was his mother. Why hadn't he only just wanted his mother? Huh? Why had he ever longed for a father? When all having one did was burn him?

Laxus just lay there too, on his stomach, as he watched the front door. Orion was still half out it, as if the sight of his father had shocked him. And it kind of had, honestly.

The biggest surprise, though, was that it was still there. Underneath it all, it was still tugging. All of it. He just wanted his hero back. His idol.

Why couldn't he have that?

Because it had been obliterated. His entire opinion of the man had been so darkened that there was no way to rectify it. None.

Laxus knew that. He knew that he could never make it up to him. Any of it. No matter how much he wanted to. And it just wasn't for Mira's sake. It never had been. He just wanted his boy back.

Why couldn't he have that?

It took a bit for Orion to slowly come into the house, the door closing behind him. And Laxus could only stare as, slowly, he came closer.

"I was gonna leave."

The man blinked before, slowly, nodding. He didn't speak though.

"But I can't." And, slowly, he dropped his bag as well as took off his quiver, leaving his bow down on the ground as well. "I just can't."

If Radic was confusing that day, Orion felt completely disconcerting. What was he doing? He didn't even know. His words were just as much new to him as they were to Laxus.

"I told Mom that I wouldn't. And I won't break a promise to her just because she's not here." He moved then to lay down on the ground with his sister as well then. The baby grinned at him and made a noise of recognition before going right back what she was doing. "I won't leave Makaria just because you're here. I don't care that you're here. She's mine too."

The child made no glance at her name. She didn't usually. It was more for meaning and the connections that it held that it was chosen. Laxus and Mira had always called her by her nickname, Snow. That was what his mother said that she reminded her of, when she came out with that white tuff of hair and it just stuck. It used to make Laxus and Mira giggle to call her that.

Orion usually didn't call her much of anything.

"I know," Laxus whispered as he lay there, staring over at his son. He wasn't sure what else to do.

"I love her."

And Laxus took a breath then, glancing at the baby before back at the teen.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I do too."

Orion refused to look at him then, as he just kept staring at his younger sister. She looked happy. He wanted to be happy.

"I loved my mother."

And that was whispered. As it was hard for him to make that past tense. Was it supposed to be? Because he still loved her. He always would. Whether she was there or not.

"I loved her too, Orion. So much."

He thought that he was done crying. He should have been done crying. But the teen felt his body heave and, though no tears came out, Laxus saw it and knew what he was feeling. Swallowing then, the slayer paused, before adding softly,

"I love you."

It wasn't immediate, but then again, nothing would be from that point. There was years of mistrust and misplaced anger to be dealt with. Many more truth and confessions to come out. It would take years.

But Laxus had years. And he hoped that Orion was willing to hand over some of his as well.

He was still heaving, Orion was. It all felt like too much. And it was. There was just so much. How was he supposed to deal with all that? It all swirled around inside of him constantly. It had been his mother that always figured it out for him. Took all the muddled thoughts and put them in their proper places, separated and restored them. He couldn't do it alone. He didn't know how.

The baby glanced over at him then, the sounds he was making catching her attention. And it killed him, looking at her. Thinking about her. Thinking about anything, really. All of it was just so messed up.

Turning his head down, Orion shut his eyes tightly as it slipped out. His whole life was in shambles and he couldn't contain it anymore. Because hidden behind all the resentment, tumult, and strife the man had caused him, it still remained true. He didn't think it ever wouldn't be.

"I love you too."

And it sounded so pained, the way that he said it, that Laxus could only sit there for a moment, unsure of what to do. He wasn't a comforter. He didn't deal with crying. Maybe for his baby, but not for someone else. What was he supposed to do with Orion, as he laid there heaving, his voice strained as if he were dying?

He did the only thing that crossed his mind. He sat up on his knees and crossed the tiny space. And, when Orion lifted up, he moved to wrap his arms around him for the first time possibly ever.

Maybe it was what he should have been doing from the beginning. Holding him. Because it worked, if only for that moment. Orion clung to him and Laxus felt warm in a way he didn't think he would again.

"I know," he sighed as the boy continued to sob. "I've always known."

Orion would never get his hero back. But, if he wanted, and if they both worked at it, he could get Laxus back. Maybe not how he had him, not the way he wanted him, but it was the same on the slayer's side. The relationship they'd had before was fragmented. It would never be whole again. But they could piece what they could back together and, really, that was all Laxus wanted.

It was what Mira would have wanted. And, though neither would be doing it for her, both would admit that the thought alone made them at least somewhat happy.

But it wouldn't happen that day. Or the next. The whole month was shot. Maybe the year. Orion wasn't even sure if he could really live there with them, Snow and Laxus.

He could visit though. It'd always be his house. And Laxus promised that his room would always be his. It was his home. Above all else.

And it wasn't like the indignation was gone. Because it wasn't. He still hated Laxus. A big part of him did. Blamed him. Still though, he'd admitted it, not only to himself, but to the man in question, that he loved him. That floated to the top. It always would.

How could it not?

Laxus would wait for it to pass. As long as it took. Orion was just one of the tiny pieces of Mira that he still had. And, more than that, he was his son. He'd always been his son. Curse or no curse, he'd always loved the boy. With or without Mirajane.

It didn't make the crying jags stop. Didn't put Orion's mind at ease. Didn't stop keeping Laxus up at night, worrying about it. But, in that moment and many more to come later, it mended that moment. Because Orion was his boy. And Laxus was all he'd ever wanted for so long.

He had him then. Whether he liked it or not.

When they pulled back then though, from that awkward hug they were locked in, they both only stared at one another. Laxus was waiting for the boy to blow up at him again, but it didn't come. And Orion was waiting for the pain to wash away, but it never would.

So they just sat there on their knees, watching the other.

"P'ay?"

It was the sound of Snow talking though that made them both glance over at her, staring at her for a moment in shock, as if they'd forgotten she was there. Maybe they had.

Things weren't just about them though. Mira had left them both with the one thing that would bind them forever. A part of her that wouldn't be going away.

And, though it was more of with a grimace than a smile, Orion moved to lie back down and pick up one of her dolls for her, shaking it in the baby's face. She loved this, of course, and giggled loudly. Laxus sat there, watching, as his chest panged and he worried that he'd gone too far. Hugging him.

Had he just wrecked everything?

But then Orion was looking up at him and his eyes weren't full of hatred. Just normal, bloodshot eyes.

Voice hoarse, he whispered, "Aren't you going to play?"

It was his own turn to lie back down. Nodding all the while, he promised them both, "Always. I mean it, Orion. Always."

Even though he didn't want to and only hours before he wouldn't have, Orion believed him.

They loved one another. Always.

FF

Archive

[magicismighthq]

Astrid Strom | 25 | Cis female She/her | Part-witch, part-vampire | Neutral/Order Supporter | Code 3

“I keep a record of the wreckage of my life, I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind- they talk shit but I love it every time.”

Unable to ever see her reflection, Astrid had to take the world for what it was. She would never be able to look in the mirror and give herself pep talks or see the face everyone else saw. She would never see a soul laying behind her eyes. Being part vampire, Astrid was said not to have a soul so there was no point in trying to find one.

Being born to a witch and vampire, it came as a surprise to the healers when Astrid was born with teeth. Terror went through the room at a vampire being born. Her parents weren’t meant to have children and couldn’t let the little one go. They made a promise to one another to keep her identity a secret. Her father wiped the healer’s memories as soon as he locked eyes with his wife. Astrid was a miracle so no matter what she needed in order to survive was given.

Keeping her secret alive proved to be easier than expected as she was a young child. As a family they would hunt the forests of Alby, Sweden providing her with the blood required to live. However, when Astrid’s letter from Durmstrang came, fear swept over the small family. They knew this day was coming but didn’t know how to go about helping her once she wasn’t in the care of their modest country home. After much discussion, her parents decided It would be safer for Astrid to attend Hogwarts where no one knew of the family. It came as a huge disappointment to Astrid as it had always been her dream to fight among the best. Due to her blood needs it was time to share the secret, but only with Headmaster Dumbledore who was surprisingly willing to help. The hunting would continue during the late night hours while the rest of the castle slumbered.

Being the first Ström to attend Hogwarts there were no expectations of what house she should be in. The sorting hat struggled. Astrid had ambition but the time she spent with books was more important proving intelligence was necessary in order for ambition to succeed. It was clear to her that knowledge could be used for survival and destruction and would be damned if anyone dared to take that away from her.

Even though she wasn’t able to attend Durmstrang she made sure her strength went above and beyond, both physically and with magic. Astrid was a force to be reckoned with, whether it be with a staff or her bare hands. The half-vampire’s strength proved she didn’t need to use spells in to win in a fight. She gained a sense of power in knowing this; power that often went to her head. While witches and wizards seemed to rely solely on their wands, she always had a backup plan. She knew the damage she was capable of doing without using an unforgivable curse and it ought to frighten those around her.

While Astrid’s body was made for fighting her mind went somewhere completely unexpected. Herbology. She tried to hide the natural talent but anyone who saw her in the greenhouse could watch her wheels turning as she created mixtures of her and plants others didn’t know what to do with. She was a master but perhaps it was because she was always on the lookout for something to aid her in her vampiric ways.

Astrid grew into a woman of her own. Although her parents tried to lovingly and protectively keep her on a tight leash, she wouldn’t accept their safe walls anymore. Sensuality may as well have been synonymous with Astrid. She wasn’t a veela but didn’t need that blood to make her the sexual being she was. Once she began drinking and doing drugs, there was no turning Astrid away. And those habits were ones that would never disappear.

Only having been in one legitimate relationship at Hogwarts, Astrid became more jaded than she already was. Since then she was never fully committed nor did she want to be. With this it became clear she should hide parts of herself, starting with her emotions. All Astrid wanted was to have fun at night and have her nose in a book during the day; a sort of double life that mirrored the one she had back home in Sweden. The only people Astrid showed unadulterated love to were her parents because without them, she never would have lived to see her many days.

She walked with her head high, unafraid of anyone who would want to harm her or her loved ones. While Astrid’s confidence could sometimes be confused with cockiness, she was one to defend others when it came down to it. Perhaps it was a bit foolish but Astrid believed she could outsmart anyone with her combined skills of sexuality, fighting, magic and determination.

Not seeing herself, she had no blueprint of what life as a half-witch, half-vampire should look like leaving Astrid to create her own path. It seemed the best route for her was to become a Healer. Through her experience at St. Mungo’s, she would not only help others, but held a hope it will also help herself and those like her in the long run. Second, and not as noble, Astrid used St. Mungo’s as a blood bank. She searched the donated reserves for uncontaminated blood bags, sneaking them home carefully.

When she realized the war was no rumor, going home to Sweden wasn’t an option. Astrid felt she had a duty to stay in London in an effort to prevent the war from crossing country lines. She didn’t want her parents being found out or, worse, murdered. There was no way in hell she was going to let anything happen to them, even if it cost Astrid her life. Initially, she believed that with her focused nature and honed skills, she was suited to be a Death Eater, but as she read about all the deaths supposedly caused by the group, she began to question her initial thought. Astrid needed to fight and if she was going to do it, she was going to listen to the voice in her head comprised of reason and survival.

The Order quickly became a no-brainer. The group would prove to be the only way Astrid could live in London and put her life on the line so the war wouldn’t spread to her family. Astrid hoped to find the support she needed to save herself, her family and her fellow creatures. And perhaps the chance to find a way to see herself for not for what she was but who she was.

↳ Played by: June ↳ Faceclaim: Kiersey Clemons

[qcdastuff]

Carding the Veil - Chapter 2

Whetstone and Spindleweed

“I’d tell you to pray to your gods - but you savages don’t have any - do ya?” The bandit adjusted his grip on his greatsword, fixed his footing, and swung.

It bounced off his opponent's solidly-held shield.

A fierce grin was the only response, just before the axe blow landed, lodging between helm and armor. There was a sick squelch of flesh and a spray of blood as the weapon was yanked free again.

There was no time to admire the handiwork of that kill; an arrow whistled by, causing the axe-wielder to duck. Hissera Adaar swore as it clipped one of her horns and jerked her head at an odd angle. Her mother’s pride be damned, she was cutting the forsaken things off.

“Close in!” Came the roar of command from, presumably, the asshole in charge. Positioned safely up the hill.

“But she laid out Vince in one hit!” There was a dodgey, weasley-looking fuck slightly behind and to the right of Hissera. Stalling, twirling his daggers - she could just catch the movement in the corner of her eye. He was too chickenshit to be the first one in, but Hissera knew he’d be hilt deep in her kidneys the second his friend grew a pair.

His friend - the sword-and-board fighter - was locked in a staring contest with her. What she wouldn’t give for a little rashvine right about now to smear on her face. Something about paint on a Qunari tended to make men piss themselves.

Alright, she thought, You’ve got a fighter. Rogue with two knives. Fucker with a bow. Man in charge. You can do this, probably. You’re going to lose a body part, maybe. Hissera snarled as Mr. Shield took an aborted step forward. But you’re sure as shit taking at least two more of them with you.

“Alright, fuckers - which of you am I killing first? You?” She raised her eyebrows at the man in front of her. “Or your friend back there?” She jerked her head back in his direction, “Whoever drops his weapon first, lives. The next one dies. Screaming.”

“There’s three of you, and one of her! Just kill the cow, and be done with it!”

Before Mr. Shield could get any clever ideas, Hissara leapt for him - he barely got his namesake up in time. Her swings were a little wild, but they were heavy. She yelled with every hit. Steadily beating him back towards the rise where his friend with the bow was perched. She needed to get out of his line of sight.

She took a nick here and there in her desperation to get the man to move , but when she heard the cursing from above, she knew she’d done it. That fucker was going to have to come down if he wanted a good angle.

There was a sudden cold sting, and the air was driven out of her lungs. Hissera had forgotten about the rogue with the knives. Snarling, she turned, slashing through air as the little weasel jumped back out of range. She had them both in her sight now, but she was letting herself get backed into a corner.

She could hear the man with the bow scrabbling down the far side of the embankment. Soon he’d be popping up around the corner and she’d catch one of those stupid arrows right between the eyes. Mr. Shield was breathing heavy, staying put and stalling for time. Weasel-Daggers was hopping from foot to foot, trying to decide if he wanted to rush in or not.

“Fuck this.” Hissera reached into a belt pouch and popped the cork on a vial, downing the thing in one swig. Her face scrunched up as the potion hit, and she dashed the vial on the rocks at her feet.

Fire. Liquid fire was pouring through her veins, and she roared with the rush of it.

Weasel-Daggers stumbled backwards, and Adaar locked on - bear to wounded deer.

With a yell, she charged across the little dell, catching the rogue square in the chest. Her momentum caught and lifted him, and they both sailed along - until crunching into a wide oak. Adaar barely registered the cry of pain and the popping of ribs like dried wood. She did feel the splatter of blood on her face, as the rogue coughed.

An arrow thunked into the thick of her arm through leathers, and she cried out, turning.

Weasel-Daggers slumped to the forest floor in a heap, groaning and crying and coughing up more blood.

Her shield came up as the next arrow flew, and it clanged aside, useless. Hissera stalked closer, step by step, shield up and at the ready. She knew, instinctively, Mr. Shield had moved to her blind spot - but there was nothing she could do about that just yet.

The archer was backing up, and even from this distance she could see the white in his eyes. Maybe blood was a good vitaar too. She grinned, staring him down.

He kept sneaking glances over his shoulder, and soon realized she was pushing him to a drop off. One more shot - a wild miss - and he dropped his bow, “Stop, stop, stop!”

Hissera had two seconds to savor that victory, before she was knocked on her ass.

Mr. Shield had caught his breath, and was standing over her. His sword was angled down, and it was clear he thought to take her surrender. His boss was yelling something, but she couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears. It took longer than she liked to clear her vision. The other bandit was reaching for his bow, and Hissera couldn’t risk it being two against one again.

Axe still in hand, she swiped at the warrior’s ankles. It stuck in his shin bone. The fucker screamed and crashed forward, slicing through her cheek, sword lodging in the meat of her shoulder. The warrior was cursing a blue streak, trying to pull the axe out and get up to his feet.

“Stay where the fuck you are!” Adaar barked at the archer, jabbing with her shield.

The man froze, hands up.

Mad, shaking, feeling no pain - the sizeable Qunari stood, jerking the other man’s sword out of her shoulder with a snarl.

He’d managed to get up on his knees, and she didn’t hesitate.

The warrior’s head rolled to a stop at the archer’s feet.

The archer dry heaved, lurching forward.

Adaar could hear the other - the boss - making a break for it. “Pick up your bow.” The Archer shook his head fiercely, shock keeping him in place. She was on him in two strides, snatching him by the arm and shoving him down.

“Pick it up!” Adaar screamed, shaking him.

He had the bow in his hands, but he was trembling like a leaf. “Please!” He croaked, begging.

“Up the ridge!” She gave him a shove in the right direction, and followed after as he all but flung himself up the embankment. Adaar advanced and he backed and scrabbled his way up and back to the very edge. “Turn around.”

The Archer shook his head again.

Adaar snarled and grabbed the man again, manhandling him into facing down into the next valley. Their boss had just gotten down - looked like he’d fallen half the way - and was hobbling into a clearing. It was a clear shot. A good shot. The man was moving in a straight line.

“Shoot him.” Adaar snarled, moving to give the man room. He didn’t draw, and she yelled, “Shoot him, or I snap your neck! NOW! DRAW! FIRE!”

Muscle memory succeeded where the man’s will had failed him, and the draw was smooth. The arrow nocked flawlessly. A pull of bowstring, and it flew - straight and on target.

The bandit leader lurched forward, collapsing with an arrow just below his shoulder blade.

The Qunari was breathing heavy. Blood rushing in her ears. Little by little, the fire banked. Little by little she could hear the creak of swaying trees. The birds squawking in protest. The panicked breathing of the man next to her.

Next came the throb of her cheek. The ache in her muscles. The very persistent pain in her arm and the opposite shoulder. She took a deep breath in, and exhaled in a rush.

The archer whimpered, but didn’t dare move.

“My name - is Hissera Adaar. I’ve been trained in combat from birth. I am the second in command of a mercenary company called the Valo-Kas, and I am exhausted.” She turned to look, and the human stared back, terrified and confused. “If you ran now, I couldn’t catch you. I wouldn’t try.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why wouldn’t I chase you? What part of fucking exhausted don’t you understand?” Why was he still here?

The Archer leaned away, wary of the rage in her voice, but he shook his head, sniffing, wiping at his nose, “Why shoot him? He was leaving.”

“Do I look stupid to you?” Hissera was more than a little pleased at how quickly he shook his head 'No'. “Any of the rest of you would have run and let me be. That-” She jabs her arm still strapped in it's shield in the direction of the valley, “-is the kind of asshole to recruit new cutthroats and come hunt me down. Tie up the cow, and do fuck knows what to me.” She waits, almost daring him to contradict her.

He didn't.

“The way I see it, there’s only two ways about this.” Hissera unbuckles her shield, gingerly moving to put it back on its strap and across her back, “One, you leave, and we never see each other again - knowing - that if I do see you, I’ll assume you’re there to kill me. And I’ll kill you first. And I’ll do it slower.”

There’s an involuntary whimper from the Archer that makes him clap a hand over his mouth. He recovers fairly quickly, all things considered, “And the other option?” He’s eyeing her warily, cautiously. Like he’s wondering if he can draw an arrow before she can throttle him to death.

He can’t.

“The other option is that you follow me back down the hill. I put ol’ Weasel-Daggers out of his misery, if he isn’t already dead, and you follow me back to Murkwell. I get patched up, you get fed, and I offer you a job.”

“Why...why would you do that?”

“The Valo-Kas has been hired to do security for this Conclave.” Hissera sighs, groaning, as she rolls her unpunctured shoulder. “And the Valo-Kas is all Qunari.” She tries very hard not to give a sharp grin at the way the Archer shrinks from that knowledge. “Everyone acts right when mother’s in the room, but…”

“You’re afraid eventually people are going to cotton on that they only have to watch for a pair of horns before they start stabbing each other or poisoning the drinks.” When Hissera nods, the man hums in confirmation, “And you think if I worked for your group, I could sort of...spy, as it were?”

“As it were.”

"Still doesn't explain why you trust me - why you'd offer me a job."

Hissera sighed, "My mother told me there's two type'a men that turn to banditry for a living. The first kind are assholes with no marketable skills other than being a thug. The second were driven to it by necessity. So which are you?"

"Ah... ...necessity."

The fact he had to think about it before answering sold her on the truth of it. For now. "Besides. Boss wanted me to recruit humans or elves or something, so here I am. Recruiting."

“If that’s the case, why not take Cormac, too?” When she gives him a blank look, the Archer supplies, “The man you affectionately referred to as Weasel-Daggers.”

She grunts and gestures for the man to walk, taking the first step as the two of them make their way back to the scene of the fight, “The problem is - a whole lot of shit broke when I slammed your friend into that tree. I don’t know if what’s wrong with him can be fixed with a potion, and I'm not exactly a healer.” Sliding a little at the bottom, she slammed into one of the said trees with a grunt and grumbled, “Even if I had a potion to spare, for a man who stabbed me in the kidney. Which I don't.”

Weasel-Daggers - or Cormac - was actually conscious when they reached him. He’d propped himself up against the tree that tried to send him to his maker, one of his daggers across his lap. He was wheezing in a wet sort of way and eyeing his fellow bandit more than the Qunari that’d put him in this condition in the first place.

“I wouldn’t worry - see? He always carries a few.” The Archer tapped Cormac’s boot with his toe, “I assume you took all of yours?”

“You friends with her now?”

“Better friends than dead.” He frowned as Cormac hacked something else up - something pink and fleshy. “Maker’s balls.” Kneeling down, the archer dug through the pack he’d been carrying and pulled out two red vials, waggled them in his direction. “Go on.”

“Not gonna save one for your new friend?” Cormac half-sneered, half-slurred, but reached for the potions anyway.

Hissera was faster, snatching them away, and holding them up for inspection. “His new friend doesn’t need them just yet.” She looked back down at the rogue at her feet, “But you do.”

“So make him the same deal.”

“Nah,” Hissera tapped the vials against her thigh, but before the Archer could try and persuade her, she spoke again, “Different deal for you, Kidney-Shot. You work for my merc group, or I finish the job I started. Pick.”

The rogue coughed, laughing, blood dribbling down his chin, “Oh, so this is how the Qun works? Slavery or death - what a choice.”

“Cormac, don’t be an ass.”

“I’m- I was just- yes. I don’t want to die.” He held his arm up, in the general direction of Hissera, waving his hand about, “Give us the potions then, Qunari, and I’ll stab other people, hmm? Whoever you want.”

Hissera grumbled, muttering under her breath about bad decisions, but she handed the potions over anyway. She was dearly hoping this didn’t come back to bite her in the ass. This fucker was clearly the first kind of bandit. But it was what she and Shokrakar had talked about - recruiting. Just not necessarily the way they had talked about it.

Cormac was practically tongue-fucking the vials trying to get every last drop out, but by the end he did look a little less sallow. Still kicked to shit, but at least he wasn’t coughing up organs anymore. She supposed that counted for something.

Hissera turned and went to gather her shit. She also rifled through Mr. Shield’s pockets - Neck Wound’s too. She came up with a weird glass trinket, 33 Silvers, a salvageable pack between the two of them, a new sword, and a pair of boots that looked just about Kaariss’ size. She probably should’ve felt a little worse about looting the corpses of those two fucker’s friends. But. They had tried to kill her, so she let the guilt fall amongst the leaves.

By the time Hissera returned, gingerly poking around the arrow still delightfully lodged in her arm, the Archer had gotten his friend more or less upright. They’d geared back up, and were slowly making their way towards the vague direction of town. It was going to take days at this pace.

“My name’s Ronan, by the way.” The Archer volunteered into the awkward, grunting semi-silence between them.

“Ronan?” Hissera parroted, “Cormac and Ronan.” Another heavy sigh and she held aside a bit of brush for the two men to amble through, “Boss is gonna have a field day with this. The two most Ferelden-sounding humans I could drum up.”

“Got a problem with Fereldens?”

“Oh no, Cormac,” Hissera replied, tone sickly sweet, “You’re all such nice people! How could I have any trouble? Why, I’m sure I have as few problems with Fereldens as you do with Qunari. We’re going to be such good friends, Cormac. Such good friends.”

Ronan laughed under his breath and tried to chivvy his friend along a little faster. He had plans for a bed in an inn tonight, instead of the forest floor. Even if he had to share it, it would be better than finding a nug trying to eat his hair. Despite what the others might claim, he did not scream like a girl about it. But he didn’t want a repeat performance, either.

Luckily, the village wasn’t actually that far off - even with Cormac groaning and shuffling and hobbling like an old man for hours, and stopping them every half to catch his breath. They arrived just as the sun was arcing it's way downwards, and had stopped, on a rock, within view of the main thoroughfare for Cormac to have a breather again.

“Say - what happened to Pate?”

Ronan and Hissera shared a look over Cormac’s head, but the Qunari gave away nothing in her expression. A careful blank. Ronan dithered, “Uh...Pate?”

“Yes. Pate. Our boss? Guy who ordered us around? Guy who paid us? Any of this ringin’ a bell?”

“Oh, uh...well he...run off, didn’t he? Not like he was gonna dirty his hands to save us.”

Cormac slowly started to sit up - already turning his head to look at his comrade, when Hissera jerked him to his feet. “If your friend shows back up, he can either get paid like you two or get dead - come on. We are spitting distance from clean water and a fucking meal. We’re not camping out here, Kidney-Shot.”

Cormac was too busy groaning and complaining to notice the second look shared between Ronan and Hissera. Too busy wincing and whinging in pain to see the mouthed words of thanks from the Archer or the nod of the Qunari.

What he did manage to notice, however, was the stout form of a dwarf, several buildings down, standing just in the back shadow of a building. They were watching with a look that Cormac knew well. He stopped their progress to make a pointed look in the dwarf’s direction, hand over the pommel of his dagger.

A long moment of eye contact, and then the dwarf was gone - down the alley and deeper into the shadows - but thankfully away from them.

...

Prologue | Chapter 1 | 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582437/chapters/56582572#workskin

[ostermahaus]

It’s Morphin’ Time!  Eventually... Power Rangers Review

Saban’s Power Rangers opens darkly.  You see a blasted torn up landscape of prehistoric Earth with the Red Ranger dragging himself across it, obviously injured.  He crawls to the Yellow Ranger, also lying prone who morphs into an alien and hands her coin to him, telling him to hide it before dying in his arms.  Yikes.  He morphs into Zordon (Bryan Cranston) and puts his coin with the others he’s carrying, instructing Alpha via communicator to fire a meteorite at his current location.  He turns to find himself face to face with a female Green Ranger named Rita (Elizabeth Banks) who he accuses of being a traitor and killing his team.  She boasts that she’s won when Zordon informs her it’s too late and a meteor comes crashing down on them sending her to the bottom of the sea.  Also wiping out the dinosaurs, I presume.  I guess nuking from orbit was the only way to be sure. Smash cut to a bunch of jocks leading a bull into a locker room as a prank and we meet Jason Scott (Dacre Montgomery) who informs us that he calmed the cow down by milking it.  Womp womp.  Your protagonist can’t tell an udder from a dong, not a great start.  The cops show up and after the most nausea inducing go-pro car chase I’ve ever encountered (Seriously, I saw Gravity on the UltraScreen in 3D and this almost made me vomit) he gets in a horrific wreck and we have a title screen. Go go Power Rangers?  If you never watched the show this may seem exciting.  If you did, well here’s why it might not be what you were expecting.

 Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers hit children in 1993 with a blast of popularity that overpowered the Ninja Turtles and kept kids riveted until Pokemon came along at the end of the decade!  A Japanese import, it was cheesy, silly, campy and formulaic and pre-teens ate it up!  As well as some teens.  I was just hitting the age where I felt like I was outgrowing Saturday morning/after school shows (Thank God that phase didn’t last) so I was never a die hard fan, but I knew enough people that were that I kept abreast of the original shows run.  I watched a fair number of episodes with my friends more due to our love of riffing it a la Mystery Science Theater 3000 than anything else…  Although I will admit that Kimberly (Amy Jo Johnson)  kept me on board a bit as well.  The premise was simple.  Five teenagers from Angel Grove are given magic coins that allow them to morph into Power Rangers.  Spandex clad ninjas with full coverage helmets who can summon robot dinosaurs called Zords and merge them Voltron style into a giant Mega Zord to win the day.  They answer to Zordon, a giant holographic head, and fight the monsters that Rita Repulsa repeatedly sends down from the moon.  Ninjas, dinosaurs and giant robots.  It was famous for the obvious cut between the American actors doing their day to day thing and the original Japanese footage being used once they were in costume.  Ever wonder why Kimberly was the only Ranger wearing a skirt?  Because the Yellow Ranger in that Japanese footage is a dude.  (The more you know!)  That’s all you needed and it’s still on the air in some iteration to this day!  Why mess with a good thing?  If it’s not broke, right?

 Unfortunately Hollywood is following a current and overused trend of trying to make things dark and gritty when they reboot them right now.  That’s not to say it can’t work, but it really feels like a forced excutive decision by the movie companies some times.  This new Power Rangers update has a lot of things that work really well for it as they try to make a serious and less campy approach to one of the most popular cheese fests ever.  They also make some big missteps.  I know that Zordon famously asked for “teenagers with attitude” in the original and wound up with the nicest kids in town, but this version makes an over correction by having three of them meet in detention and one of them just not go to school at all.  Turns out Jason has to wear an ankle bracelet now and report to detention for the rest of the year and lost all sorts of football scholarships.  As soon as he walks in he sees Billy (RJ Cyler) being bullied for OCD behavior arranging things on his desk.  Jason puts a stop to it and Billy immediately declares him his new best friend for sticking up for him!  I really liked Billy in this movie, but they make a very clear point early on to have him state that he’s on the autism spectrum and they play it pretty well until he becomes a Ranger.  Then it just seems to disappear and he’s merely giddy all the time.  He’s adorkable, sure, and probably the most likeable character but it would have been nice to see them stick to his spectrum tendencies.  Jason is fairly dismissive until he offers to use his skills to hack Jason’s ankle bracelet in order for them to hang out.  How all true friendships begin!

 Next we meet Kimberly Heart (Naomi Scott) who was set up by her cheerleader ‘friends’ for an incriminating picture that’s been circulating around school and they show up to inform her that she no longer gets to be a plastic.  It makes her so angry that she gives herself a kicky new haircut in the bathroom that Jason is immediately smitten by when she returns from the restroom!  After Billy hacks the ankle device, he and Jason go into a restricted area of the gold mine outside Angel Grove because apparently Billy likes to blast there.  Even though it’s an active mine with security.  Shrug  While Billy is setting his charges, Jason goes off to hike around and spies Kimberly cliff diving while We get Zack (Ludi Lin) and Trini (Becky G.) dropped in as just random kids who are also hanging out in an active work zone after dark.  Her to practice her Karate Kid poses and him to watch her through binoculars.  Like you do.  Anyway, Billy’s blast draws them all and they discover 5 glowing coins embedded in the rock.  After cutting them out, they each grab one and then alarms go off, summoning security and another slightly less vomit inducing chase that AGAIN ends in a horrific crash, this time with a train.  The next morning they all wake up at home with no injuries and no knowledge of how they survived the wreck, plus sick abs and super strength!  Wanna know how they managed that without being seen?  Or what Billy’s mom’s reaction is to the destruction of HER van?  (You see the wreck later on being pulled off the tracks)  You’re out of luck!  Anyway, they get together and decide to go back to try to find answers about the coins and discover a buried spaceship manned by Alpha 5 (Bill Hader) and Zordon’s memory in the ship’s computer.  He informs them that they’re the Power Rangers and they need to learn to defend the universe once they can learn to morph!  Eventually…

 I don’t know if it came with the casting of Bryan Cranston but the biggest drawback of this film is that at 2 hours almost every minute of the Rangers suited up has been shown in the trailers because it only happens in the films final action scene, similar to my beef with Godzilla not having enough Godzilla.  There are training montages aplenty and I really did appreciate the effort it made to give the core cast some substance behind there characters that wasn’t there before, but it’s pace could best be described as deliberate.  The film seems to work the best when it’s trying to have some fun and not brooding so much, which is all too often.  The scene of all the nerd kids idolizing Billy after he knocks out a bully without trying and then being in awe when he gets pulled from the table by Kimberly?  Great!  Fun little scene, use more moments like that as opposed to repeated instances of people mispronouncing Trini as DeeDee.  ???  I assume it’s a joke but I just don’t get it and boy do they keep pushing it.  I wish they had done more with Zack as he had a lot of potential in his backstory.  He doesn’t attend school any more because you find out he’s caring for his terminally ill mother but aside from that reveal he just gets all the “I’m gonna shout quips!” style lines.  Don’t try taking a drink every time he calls Trini “Crazy Girl”, it won’t end well.  Jason is fine in his role as the leader, but as is the curse of the leader role (Cyclops, Leonardo), is pretty bland.  Kimberly and Trini are both solid female role models although I wish they would have come right out with Trini’s sexuality/crush on Kimberly rather than just heavily alluding to it.  Although I was disappointed by him dropping the autism traits halfway through, I thought Billy in the second half was the most relatable character.  He’s just so giddy every time they bring up the fact they get to be Rangers!

 I was not a fan of the design choices for Alpha and the Zords.  Alpha was thankfully less obnoxious than the original, but his super long arms on the tiny body just looked weird and creepy.  Props to Hader for making me not hate him!  The Zords…  I couldn’t tell what I was looking at.  I’ll be honest, aside from the T-Rex and the Pterodactyl they could have been anything.  I had to go online after the movie because I couldn’t remember if the Triceratops was Blue or Black because I couldn’t tell them apart.  Turns out it’s Blue.  For as many montages as we were dealt and given the movies run time, I’d have preferred to see them learning their suits and Zords right off the bat as opposed to trying and failing to Morph a half dozen times and then finally getting it right just in time for the final battle where they go in operating things they’ve never used before.  I know I’m overthinking it, but I hate when people just innately know how to use things like that.

 Lastly we come to the villains.  I’ve got really mixed feelings on this part.  I appreciate they wanted to take it more seriously, and I like what they did with Rita but DAMN.  They may have made her a bit too intense for the audience that’s generally associated with Power Rangers!  Banks is great and and she is wonderfully creepy and terrifying but there is a scene where she’s killed some police officers and you see that she’s ripped the teeth out of one and has dismembered/is CANNIBALIZING the other.  This is while she’s still in her slightly mummified state after a fishing boat pulls up her body and it’s horror movie levels of creepy as she gets her power back to create Goldar.  Because he’s made of gold, see?  I don’t quite get her power set because at first she’s brutally murdering people for their gold, then eating it (WTF?) then just pointing at it and drawing it to her in liquid form.  At least she gets to say “Make my monster grow.”

 Overall, it’s not bad.  It’s not as action packed as you’d expect, but what references do show up are all well placed and fun.  You get some cameos and throwback lines.  Ay-yi-yi and what not.  My favorite reference was when two boys were arguing who got to be the Red Ranger while they’re playing and Trini tells them, “Why not Yellow?”  “That’s a girl!”  “How do you know?”  lol  Love the message and the nod to the original Yellow I mentioned earlier, but unfortunately undercut by the obvious sculpted boob armor on Pink and Yellow…  Best moment, bar none, was when they played the original theme.  Unfortunately it’s just one refrain then back to generic orchestration, but the theater I was in was electrified when it came on!  I’m not made of stone, that riff is freaking amazing.  You could tell everyone was a bit bummed when it didn’t continue throughout the fight.  As usual anymore, stay through the credits.  There’s a mid credit scene that I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to call before it happens but it’s there.  LOL at the guys behind me talking loudly throughout the film complaining about the very thing the scene was about and leaving before it happened.  That’s what you get for being terrible movie attendants!  If you were a fan of the show as a kid, I think you’ll have a great time!  If you’re bringing your kids because of how much YOU loved it…  Just be aware it gets really dark and creepy in places and might move a bit slow if they have to wait over 90 minutes to see any Morphin’ Time.