#was so. so much more agonizing for me. than her responding with an immediate logical slam-dunk of the truth about healthy behavior and stuf

[goldkirk]

I DON'T HAVE TO LIE ANYMORE!

[3mmafr0st]

Hard to Hate Chapter 14

Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: the usual, if you’ve seen the rest of the series you’ll know!

Taglist: @intpeach, @aria-dne, @allthebestmenarefictional, @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic, @weasleytwinswheezes, @a-disappointing-teen-author, @amorist-3, @222moonss, @carmiml0v3, @lilypad-55449, @losers-club6, @hpbitch, @ohwelliguess​, More in the Reblog. Ask me if you want to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 15,

Read the Russian translation Here

The next few weeks were tough on me, with the already intense stress of trying to remember all of the work we had been doing before the break, and the drama of what had happened. 

Draco was mad at me, upset for leaving, as well as whatever Pansy had been whispering in his ear throughout the month. He hadn’t talked to me since christmas and I hate to say it but I missed him. Even though he was quite brainwashed and could be a little shit, I loved him, he was like a little brother to me.

On top of that, Pansy and her gaggle of bitches were harrassing me whenever they could. Ever since they found my room, the fear that I struck in most of the Slytherin house had all but dwindled. At least before they moved out of my way, but now they just look down on me and I hated it. It felt worse than being feared.

Finally there was Fred. Funny, endearing, and absolutely beautiful Fred. Ever since he and the other Weasley’s returned to the school, he has been cold, distant. It was as if the last few months had never happened, that we had never become friends in the first place. George was still talking to me though. That was my only saving grace.

George and I had decided on the library to hang out that day. Melody didn’t want to study that day, instead opting to hang out with Lee by the lake on a date of sorts. 

“I honestly have no clue what’s going on with Fred, but I’m worried.” George told me, his voice nervous.

“Has he been the same with you, he won’t even speak to me.”

“He won’t talk to me about anything, but he’s definitely upset about something. This is the first time that he’s never not told me about what’s going on in his head and I don’t like it.”

“Do you think that he’s really upset with me, I don’t know what I could have done.” I was upset to say the least. I missed Fred so much and yet he wouldn’t even give me the time of day. It was agonizing. I liked him so much, maybe even loved, and yet he pushed me away.

George and I stayed and studied for a while, until the time came where we were to go to our next class, Potions, which we all had together. This was going to be difficult to say the least.

When George and I walked into the classroom, Fred was already there, sitting with Angelina Johnson. George was irritated to say the least, and since I knew Melody would be sitting with Lee, I offered him a seat next to me. I glanced at Fred, and he seemed to be even more grumpy than when we had first walked in. Snape began his lecture, his droaning and nasally voice going on and on. I should be paying attention to the work that we were supposed to be doing, on the lecture at hand. Instead, I was glancing at Fred out of the corner of my eye.

Angelina and Fred were sitting together, laughing and whispering together. I felt something, simmering in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea what the feeling was, but it made me want to tear Angelina apart. I didn’t even know why, I like Angelina! She’s nice and witty and good at quidditch, and well, basically everything I was but better. She was the perfect version of me, one with no baggage, no psychotic family members or racist family history. Who wouldn’t pick her? The burning feeling soon turned to sadness, this lump in my throat that only got worse and worse. George looked at me, and saw as tears began to well in my eyes, fighting to keep them from falling, I couldnt let the other students see me like this, it would push me even farther down the chain of respect and I couldnt have that. George raised his hand, and was called on.

“Professor, Y/N’s not feeling good, do you think I could walk her back to her common room.”

Snape thought for a moment, clearly trying to weigh his biases in his head, before allowing it. As quickly as he could, George walked me out of the classroom, trying to get me a good enough distance from the classroom before my legs gave out under me against the wall, tears falling down my face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I don’t know, just, Angelina, the two of them, ugh, I feel so pathetic.” I laughed at myself through my tears. “I mean, who would even think I have a chance next to her.” George looked me straight in the eyes, both of us on the floor now, putting his hand on my shoulder to try and reassure me.

“Y/N, if he can’t see that you’re the absolute perfect girl for him, then he’s either blind, or just plain stupid, knowing my brother, its probably a bit of both.” His joke made me laugh, and he handed me a tissue from his pocket. 

“Thanks, I just feel so hopeless, yknow? Like, the two of you, and Mel are the only good things right now, and even that's been ruined.”

“Believe me Y/N, I get it more than you know.” His eyes looked far away, kind of wistful and longing. 

“So who’s the girl?”

“If I say, it's only going to make it worse.” I thought through all of the different clues, before coming to the most logical explanation.

“Its Angelina, isnt it?” I folded my hands in front of my chest giving him a knowing look.

“Yeah,” He said. “Now I know that you think I’m just saying that because I want her all for myself, don’t you?” I silently nodded, tears starting to prick at my eyes again.

“Well, that’s not true, I’m being serious. If he’s not going to man up, then he must be an idiot.” I didn’t believe him in the slightest, but I pretended to. “Come on, let's head to lunch early, I dont think you want the others seeing you like this when they leave.”

The two of us headed to the cafeteria, simply working on homework at our respective tables, until the rest of the students began pouring into the large hall. I saw Melody walk in, sitting down next to me.

“You feeling better?”

“Honestly, Mels, it's not that kinda sick. It’s just, Fred, yknow?” She silently nodded. She knew all of the events that had happened, or lackthereof. Although she knew about it, she wasnt as involved as George, I mean, she had her own things to do and I understood. 

George was sitting close to me, in a way, our backs to eachother, so Mel and Lee could continue their conversation from Potions. I heard heavy, angry footsteps behind me, and I took a peek as to who it was. Fred was angry, but for what reason I couldnt understand. I could hear the conversation from behind me.

“George, can we talk outside for a moment.” His voice was trying to mask his rage.

“Fine” George responded, and Fred walked the two of them outside of the cafeteria. 

I tried to stay out of it, I tried to sit there, and eat and talk to Lee and Mel as if nothing had happened, but after 5 minutes, the curiosity got the better of me. What if Fred was finally saying something as to why he was so distant, ignoring me for so long. It was a miserable experience and I just had to know why. 

I told Melody that I was going to the bathroom, and then ran off, looking for the two boys.

I walked down the hall, searching around for them, when I heard yelling, two voices that I knew so well. I looked around for a moment, before finding a door that I had never seen in this hallway before. I put my ear up to the door. The voices were muffled, but I could sort of make out what the boys were saying.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Fred, am I not allowed to have friends?”

“You and I both know that it's not just friends.”

“I’m not lying, it’s not my fault that you’ve been being an asshole and pushing us away!” The yells were immediately silenced, replaced with the sounds of skin coming in contact with skin, yelps of pain and growls of anger.  

“Alohamora” The lock quickly undid, and I pushed the door open as fast as I could. Fred had wrestled George on the ground, punching him into the floor, as George was trying as hard as possible to gain the upper hand. I quickly wracked my brain for something to separate the two without putting myself at risk before finding the perfect incantation “Relashio!”

The two looked at me, then looked at each other, trying to go at it again, but I quickly cast the Colloshoo hex, sticking both boys’ feet firmly on the ground. 

“You too are unbelievable, you know that? You are brothers for Merlin’s sake, what the hell has gotten into you?” George began to speak but I cut him off, I was too angry to listen. “Fred, you need to check yourself this instant, your behavior in the last month has not been that of a friend. Friends are supposed to be kind to each other, supposed to support each other, talk to each other at the very least! Once you’re ready to explain yourself, I'll be in the astronomy tower. George, if he tries anything like that again, you sure as hell better tell me.” 

“Can you at least let us go?” George asked, as I opened the door of the mystery room.

“It’ll wear off in an hour, you two need to talk through some things.” I shut the door behind me. I was angry, confused, and upset, all of those emotions culminating in the only way that my body could understand, once again tears began to run down my face. Luckily classes had ended early today, because if not, I would have had to go to a History of Magic looking like this mess.  The only thing that I could do was go to the astronomy tower, and hope that Fred had gotten over himself enough to come and talk to me, explain why all of a sudden he was acting like this.

[narrans]

One Shot | September Prompts

SIXTEEN & SEVENTEEN | Ninth Day & Limp

It should have been anticipated. It was only natural. Logical. With Logan now behind the wheel reading a vast majority of legal texts, the processes and loophole exposure was becoming faster and faster with every passing day. He may not be a lawyer in accordance with the law, but he could present an effective argument with supporting evidence at the drop of a hat. Logan, still uncomfortable speaking with the other humans at the shelter, proposed a compromise – he would create detailed notes and attend the group discussions, contributing clarification from the relative safety of the vents or the top shelf of Thomas’ office bookcase when necessary. Logan was slowly getting used to the other humans, but being seen by so many humans simultaneously, even after a year later, was unnerving.

One of the crucial details the human courts failed to address was how to prove the abuse of borrowers without concrete evidence. The methods before relied on whistleblowing and the extremely rare, quite improbable, testimony obtained from surviving borrowers. It took a painstaking amount of time, but traction was gaining as more people began to realize the sentience of borrowers. As a result, the courts determined that timeliness was an issue and permitted the distribution of permits and faster turnaround of warrants for observation and intervention.

Suddenly, Thomas and his team were able to go out more frequently and investigate, spending time observing humans who had obtained borrowers through one set of means or another. New faces came daily for nearly two weeks, a phenomenon the Tiny Shelter hadn’t experienced. The members in the walls maintained and evolved their culture. Half of the basement turned into a major construction site as borrowers began building and constructing more homes. Everyone cautiously optimistic, but they were far from their goal. Still, every new face helped. One of these cautiously optimistic days, however, turned on a dime.

It was on the nineth day of observations. Ali was the primary tipster. An emergency call came from an old apartment complex and, naturally, Ali and the other EMTs responded. The person apparently suffered from some sort of heart attack and required resuscitation; however, Ali noticed far more when she was inside of the apartments. Glossed over by her fellow paramedics, Ali noticed cages, fragments of doll clothing, and peculiar stains on tables, carpet, and on the doll clothing itself. Ali had stepped away only for a moment and managed to glimpse past one of the ajar doors, drawn by the sound of soft sobbing. She knew what she saw and stealthily snuck several unblurred photos as evidence. After the individual was secured and they made it back to the ambulance, Ali sent Thomas the pictures.

Thomas called immediately after, but Ali was unable to answer as she was still at work. Needless to say, Thomas was floored by what he saw. There were dozens of small cages, perfect for a borrower; or, rather, a borrower child. The team set out immediately to obtain a warrant based on Ali’s testimony and photographs. Logan armed them as best as he could with other cases which set precedence, but he could only do so much. There was also the issue of Ali taking photographs of someone’s private home while they were being stabilized. There were more than enough paramedics and EMTs to ensure the person would be alright, but she spent time taking photographs of an area which was not with the patient. Secretly, Ali prayed she wouldn’t be fired as a result of potentially breaking some ethical rule or another. The team could only insinuate and urge for observational time, which they were allowed – barely, and under strict supervision by local authorities.

As part of their preparation for potentially receiving a large number of children, the team had asked Roman, Remus, Hickory, and even Logan to spread the word and ask if anyone would be willing to volunteer to help foster the kids, if that was indeed who they were dealing with. They were still waiting for word to spread when they left to observe the apartment. Unbeknownst to them, Hickory had slipped herself into Ali’s pack to tag along and help in whatever way she could. Hickory had become more and more impatient with Ali recently, frequently criticizing her and how she allowed Logan to help but did not allow her to assist. Ali, a pillar of calm, somehow managed to explain and finagle her way out of a stab from the sharpened thumbtack Hickory kept at her hip. On this day, however, Hickory ignored Ali’s warnings and decided to come with the team.

The team was eight days in and on their nineth day of observation. The officers were called away because of a nearby robbery and made the executive decision to trust that the team would adhere to the laws and regulations they swore to uphold. At one point, Ali had to step away because of a phone call. When Ali returned, she pulled Thomas forcefully to the side. They talked in hushed whispers. Thomas looked concerned and seemed to be reassuring Ali, but Ali waved it away. She looked determined, but also like she was barely holding herself steady. They had the evidence they needed yet were mortified at what was before them. They would have stayed longer had it not been for someone’s agonizing cries and a string of curses from Ali’s slightly unzippered bag.

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

Logan paced anxiously along the bookcase in the main room. Evening was approaching fast. He had a perfect view of the door for when the team arrived. It would be today or tomorrow that they would get the go-ahead to seize the children. Logan hoped his evidence was enough. Had he been foolish when he rejected the opportunity to speak on his fellow borrowers’ behalf in front of a judge? No. Had he gone, he was not certain he would be able to keep his natural instincts in check. Logan compiled that fact with the other, which was that he had not been held or carried by a human in nearly a year. He had interacted with one, yes – Ali – but she tried to maintain her distance. Logan corrected himself. He had been carried, if it could even be called that, once – when he and Ali were stargazing on the roof. It was frigid and Logan had not prepared enough warm blankets, electing to lay next to Ali on her shoulder and under her blankets. He adjusted his glasses. It wasn’t really that bad. She hadn’t grabbed him. She was very still and calm. Plus, he had seen his first meteor shower – a truly magical experience as Roman would phrase it.

His reminiscing of the meteor shower was sharply interrupted by the entire Shelter team coming in through the front door followed by furious shouts, but not from anyone on the team. He felt his heartrate quicken and, instinctively, he gravitated to the bookends to better disguise his presence to the unobservant human. Logan tilted his head to better distinguish the voice. It was unmistakably Hickory’s voice, and she was once again yelling at Ali – but something was different this time.

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

“LET ME GO YOU IGNORANT, INSENSITIVE, OVERGROWN FRACK!” Hickory’s shrill voice could break glass. She hadn’t stopped shouting the entire way home. Thankfully, Ali had ridden her motorcycle which drowned out a lot of Hickory’s insults. Now, however, Hickory was no longer being hindered by the wind. Ali was holding Hickory, slightly tighter than her normal, open-handed grip, while Hickory repeatedly jabbed her thumbtack into Ali’s hand. “YOU COWARD! YOU LEFT THEM! YOU LEFT THEM TO DIE!” The counter was just ahead. Ali’s features, neutral, hardened, and tired, reflected defeat and pain. Ali placed Hickory on the counter gently and withdrew her hand as soon as she was able, but not before Hickory managed to give her one more slice across her palm. The rest of the team congregated, looking equally as defeated, in the living room, sitting on the sofa with hands on their heads. They stayed like this for only a moment before pulling out their phones, anxiously making calls to their contacts.

Thomas, on the other hand, approached quickly in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Hickory, please try to lower your voice.” Hickory ignored his request, her seething eyes fixated on one lone target.

“Hickory,” Ali said, her voice cool and calm. “I know you’re upset. I am too, but you shouldn’t shout.”

“Why the FRACK not!” hollered Hickory. “Are you afraid the others will realize what useless cowards you are?” Ali made no attempt to stop her hand from bleeding. Drops of her blood gathered at her fingertips and threatened to drop onto the ground. Motionless, Ali stood like a scolded child.

“We’re doing everything we can, but the judge said we couldn’t act until tomorrow. The evidence we gath…”

“EVIDENCE! THAT’S WHAT YOU CALL EVIDENCE?” Hickory interrupted, her face flushing scarlet. Ali winced and took a calming breath before continuing.

“Unfortunately… yes. We have enough to convict them. They won’t get out for years with the new laws passed, hopefully more,” said Ali. Logan had never seen Ali this way before. Her usual glow had faded. She seemed defeated and small, and not just because of Logan’s current position on the bookshelf.

“Yeah, but not the right laws! You’re going to get them for their ‘content distribution’ and not what they were ACTUALLY doing!” Hickory pointed an accusing finger at Ali. “Admit it. You can’t actually do anything for us, can you?”

“That’s not true.” Even Ali’s counterpoints sounded weak. “We have everyone here. They’re living as normally as they can given the circumstances. Plus…”

“Oh, well thank the heavens above we can get our scraps,” Hickory rolled her eyes and began angrily pacing a few steps at a time before turning on her heel and moving in the opposite direction, as if she didn’t know which direction she wanted to start sprinting in first. “What happens when you lazies show up tomorrow and no one is there because…” Hickory was so flustered and angry she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Hickory, we’ll get them. That’s what the team is doing now. They’re contacting who they can,” said Ali.

“AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH?” shouted Hickory as she threw her thumbtack at Ali. Thankfully, it did not hit her and, instead, fell to the floor by Ali’s shoe. Ali bent over and picked it up with her uninjured hand and set it on the counter. Logan stared from his obvious hiding place, confounded. What happened? What was making Hickory behave like this? What happened to Ali?

There was a silence as Hickory and Ali locked eyes. Not surprisingly, Ali looked away first. Thomas’ eyes flicked between them, waiting for what would happen next.

At that moment, Roman and Remus appeared over the edge of the counter, climbing as frantically as they could. Roman, arriving first, barely managed to pant out a statement. “What… what is go…going on?”

Remus followed suit. “My thoughts exactly. You’re howling more than me on one of my good night. What’s going on? What happened?” Hickory glared over her shoulder at her fellow borrowers before backing up and pointing at them, once again locking eyes onto Ali.

“You wanna tell them? You wanna fess up to what you witness and did NOTHING about?” Hickory folded her arms pointedly across her chest.

“Hickory, we can only do so much. We’re bound, legally. We can’t jeopardize this place falling into the wrong hands,” urged Ali. Logan wasn’t good about pinpointing emotions, but was Ali’s voice trembling? Was he mistaken? She sounded as she did on the night she spoke of her father – barely able to speak because she was upset.

“Then, please,” encouraged Hickory sarcastically. “Tell them about how your legal bonds are KILLING US.” Roman and Remus both appeared alarmed as they turned to Ali and Thomas for some sort of reassurance that Hickory was incorrect. Their hopes were quickly being dashed.

“By the horn of a unicorn, will someone please tell us what is going on without all of this drama?” asked Roman, his resounding voice more commanding than friendly. Ali tensed, but started before Thomas.

“We have been observing the people I reported. For eight days, we’ve seen some messed up stuff, but tonight was worse…” Ali’s voice trailed off. Her injured hand twitched involuntarily, both sending drops of blood onto the floor and a wince onto Ali’s face.

“GASP! Why don’t you just say it?” demanded Hickory. Neither Thomas nor Ali could speak fast enough before Hickory continued. “Well… isn’t this great. Can’t even get it up. They’re eating the kids, Roman. Those fracking monsters are torturing the kids before killing them. They’ve got this whole set-up and everything. And, apparently, we can’t do anything because of guess who… all of these stupid fracking human laws made for humans to serve humans.”

The silence seized each person’s being, Hickory’s mortifying statement lingering in the air. Roman and Remus both looked as though they had been punched in the gut, the breath knocked from their bodies. Roman fell to his knees, slightly hunched over due to the wave of nausea stabbing his insides, while Remus stabilized himself on his twin. Ali was now staring at her bloody palm. Thomas’ eyes drifted back to his team, who was still making frantic calls to whoever would listen. Some of them even fished out their laptops to begin distributing the pictures for their campaign and petition. Logan didn’t need to be nearby to hear what was said. He, too, collapsed to his knees. His heart stopped, pumping nothing yet pounding against his chest. Remus cleared his obviously constricted throat to break the silence first.

“Th…that’s… messed up,” muttered Remus.

“Duh,” growled Hickory. “And we could have done SOMETHING.”

“There was nothing we could have done in that moment,” interjected Thomas. “In that moment, we made a decision and we cannot second guess it now. We are bound by laws we cannot control, for now. We made the best choice we could given what we are allowed to do, and it’s done.”

“Hickory, you know why we couldn’t do anything today. We wanted to. We still want to. If we can get someone up and sign the paper we’ll go back right now. Things like this take time. I know how you feel…” Ali’s statement was cut short.

“Oh, do you? How do you know how that feels, Ali? Tell me. Please. I’m so interested to know how you know what it feels like to see your own kind get eaten by a monster. Go ahead, I’m waiting.” Hickory’s statement stung, that much was obvious.

“I meant… I know how it feels to want to do something and you can’t,” muttered Ali. She was losing whatever inner battle she was waging in her mind, Logan could see that much. Each jab Hickory made seemed to make Ali recede further and further into herself. Logan had never seen Ali like this. Hickory scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” spat Hickory as she turned her back on Ali, arms folded for just a moment before they flailed apart and one hand pointed accusingly at Ali. “You know, you’re just like your step-father.” Logan watched as something in Ali seemed to tense and flare. A calm settled over her, but it was a darker calm. Her eyes intensified. Her fists clenched, her injured hand squeezing more blood from the wounds like a wrung-out sponge.

“Don’t you dare compare me to him. You know better than that. I’m nothing like him.” Ali’s voice was still soft and even, yet came out a little more than a growl. A callous smile curled into Hickory’s lips, as though she had won some sort of silent debate already.

“Hickory,” muttered Roman, still in a daze yet trying to snap Hickory out of whatever tangent she was about to unleash.

“It’s the truth. He was nothing but a pathetic loser, blaming everyone but himself. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. He pretended to be nice so others would like him because, deep down, he knew he was nothing but a raging dumpster fire. A raging, alcoholic dumpster fire.” Hickory glared right back into Ali’s quaking eyes.

“Hickory, you don’t mean that,” Ali’s voice was obviously shaking, but that only encouraged the verbal prodding.

“Maybe that’s what brought your mom to him. She thought she could fix him. She thought he was something special when she should have given up on him a long time ago. He was a deadbeat manipulator and had her played. Maybe that’s what drove her to drink and drug up.” Ali’s knuckles were whitening, jaw clenched, body rigid. Thomas stepped forward.

“Hickory, that’s enough,” said Thomas firmly. “Taking out your anger on Ali isn’t going to help anyone.”

“No, it won’t help anyone, just like you all didn’t help anyone,” shot Hickory, eyes flicking to Thomas momentarily before gazing back upon her prey. “Just like your dad didn’t help anyone when he got shot to pieces. How did that help you? Oh wait… it didn’t.” Ali’s eyes flared, anger igniting deep within them.

“Don’t you dare speak ill of my dad when you didn’t even know him.” Ali’s tone, still quite and even, intensified.

“Oh, well… if we’re exchanging parental stories, then here’s one. My mother was a fantastic borrower. So were my sisters, before we were ripped apart and given to that sick psycho of a step-father you have. Like step-father, like step-daughter, you did nothing to help us, even when we were bleeding out.”

“I did help, and you know it.”

“Only after I was the last one standing.”

“I didn’t know.”

“And the moment you did, what did you do?”

“I helped.”

“You helped too late!” spat Hickory. “And that’s why you have your family and I don’t have mine. Oh wait… you don’t have one anymore.”

There was something chilling to the way Hickory spoke. A deep cold which sat buried deep in one’s chest. Untouchable. Cruel. It is the part someone turns to when all else fails, when they wish to inflict a deep, aching pain in someone else. No one knew what to do next. Their hesitation was tangible in the room. Did they console Ali, who stood trembling waging some sort of mental war within herself, barely able to stand composed? Did they scold Hickory? Reprimand her for the things she said out of anger and frustration? What if other borrowers saw the fight? Heard what was said? Would they flee? Try to leave what they believed to be a stable place because of this frightful display? What was Ali’s next move? Thomas knew Ali. He knew her past. He knew faults. He knew how hurt she was in this moment. But, now, with such a verbal assault, he was unsure of what Ali would do.

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

Everything went numb in her body. Her mind possessed no thought. Breath hitched somewhere in her lungs, refusing to move. Something left a cold trace on her face like a stenciled line drawn by a thick, wet brush. Her eyes, unfocused, lost sight. Everything was blurred and hazy, colors blending together in unnamable shapes. She could have sworn her heart stopped. Ali was vaguely aware her body was shaking, injured hand twitching and dripping precious blood onto the hardwood floor. Finally, a spark in her mind and her heart brought her back to the present. A single, fatal word. Fine.

Such a word usually conveyed a neutral or positive state of mind. Ali was used to being “fine.” She was fine with working the graveyard shift because she needed the extra pay so she could funnel what she made into the Shelter. She was fine with being mistrusted because of the wonderful challenge it brought with earning trust and respect from the other residence. She was fine that she was constantly watched and viewed skeptically, because she knew who she was and that is what mattered. She was used to being a lot of things. This, however, was not that kind of “fine.”

Wordless with tears lining the sides of her face and nose, Ali pulled her helmet from under her arm, turned, and walked toward the door.

“Go ahead then. Run away! Go drown your sorrows in a bottle of booze!” shouted Hickory as she folded her arms and turned her back to the door. Thomas shot a daggered glare at Hickory.

“Ali, wait! Please!” called Thomas, taking a few faltering steps forward. He was not fast enough before Ali shut the door quietly behind her.

“Ali…” Roman and Remus seemed to utter simultaneously, their voices filled with sadness in their poor excuse to call her back. Thomas had just made it to the door when the signature sound of her motorcycle engine roared to life. It screamed into the evening air as Ali revved the engine and pealed out of the driveway and onto the road. She was gone. Thomas turned to Hickory with a venomous glare.

“She did not deserve that and you know it!” Thomas was careful to keep his voice from raising while also expressing his seething displeasure and disappointment.

“She’s a big girl and can handle herself,” retorted Hickory.

“You know about the phone call she got while we were out. You know she just found out…” Thomas’s voice trailed off. Remus spoke up first.

“Phone call? What phone call?” he asked. Thomas calmed himself for a moment before responding to Remus.

“Ali got a call while we were out that her mother just passed away,” muttered Thomas. “But you know what? She wanted to stay and help finish the job before dealing with that. Plus, you know about her past, Hickory.” Roman and Remus realized suddenly they were glaring at Hickory.

“Hickory, how could you say something so cruel?” asked Roman, finally regaining himself. Hickory, on the other hand, appeared offended.

“How could I? You’re angry at me? After everything you heard, I’m suddenly the bad guy?” she demanded, turning back to Thomas. “And, at any rate, it’s not your problem! Shouldn’t you be figuring out how to save the others? Or are you going to stand there and tell me how to live my life? Guess what. You don’t get to do that. I am not a pet, so leave me alone!”

Thomas stiffened and took nearly twenty seconds, breathing in sharply, holding his breath, and releasing it slowly. “No one here has ever treated you like that – especially Ali. You’re right, it’s not my problem. It’s yours.” With that, Thomas walked into the next room with his team as he removed his phone from his pocket. They heard him leave a message. The team, evidently, had stopped working after hearing the outburst one room over but returned the moment Thomas entered the room. Hickory, who could have breathed fire at that moment, stormed off toward the rappel lines and slid off the table without another word. Roman and Remus, after quite some time, made their way to the room with Thomas and the others to offer support in whatever way they could.

Logan, from his perch, witnessed the entire encounter. He knew Hickory was eccentric and often belittled Ali as some sort of severe power dynamic. He knew Hickory told him she acted the way she did with Ali to show the other borrowers that Ali wouldn’t hurt them, regardless of what Ali endured. This exchange, however, was different. Hickory was angry, and rightfully so, but took her anger out on Ali, who barely made a defense for herself. There was something more to their friendship, if Logan could even call it that after the exchange he witnessed. The mention of Hickory’s family was the first Logan remembered; but, to think Ali’s step-father had something to do with it? Logan thought back to that evening when he and Ali talked through the night and her description of her step-father and how her, now late, mother’s behavior changed soon after they engaged in an official matrimony. Someone who was manipulative and could twist a mother against her own daughter was someone who would certainly see a borrower as a lesser being. All of these things made Logan’s chest hurt and tighten painfully. It made everything Hickory said sting worse.

It was an odd sensation, feeling someone else’s pain. Logan prided himself in being able to distance himself, to remain unattached and effective – sound in body and mind. Now? Everything hurt. His head hurt in trying to work the pieces of the puzzle together. His body ached from tensing for so long. His chest and his heart throbbed in his chest as though he were the one chastised for something he could not control. He wiped his eyes as if he could wipe away what he had seen and froze. Withdrawing his hand, he noticed it was wet. He was so focused on how he felt internally he did not realize his body was shaking and his eyes were wet. So, until the wave passed, Logan resigned himself to sit. After what was most likely hours, he stood, shakily, and climbed back through the walls. Rather than move to his room and enjoy some well earned rest, he headed to Ali’s room. She said once he was good at listening and a friend she could talk to. When… not if… when she returned, perhaps he could listen again.

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

It was hours later. Much later than Thomas would have liked to admit. He tried calling. He tried texting. Nothing. No contact. No update. No Ali. His anxiety and worry for Ali’s well being mixed with frustration. How could she leave like that? He understood why, but it was the way she left that bothered him. Where had she gone to? He prayed silently she would not return to old habits. He pleaded desperately in his mind that she would come home safe. Goodness knew he had received one too many phone calls in the past about an injury or incident. He realized his breath had quickened and he was wearing a place in the carpet ragged. The other members of the team, not knowing Ali as well as him, offered to stay up or go out to look for her; all offers he dismissed with a kind smile. Everyone would need their strength for their raid on the apartments the next morning.

Roman and Remus, on the other hand, refused to leave Thomas’s side. They asked a few other borrowers to help prepare for the children’s arrival the next day so they could help Thomas. At any rate, there wasn’t much left to do now. Beds were prepared. Medical stations and first-aid how-to pamphlets were distributed and demonstrated thanks to Logan and, surprisingly, Virgil at Patton’s request. They were ready; at least, as ready as they could be at the moment.

The hour just passed two in the morning. Large, fluffy snowflakes drifted just outside of the windows and began to coat the ground. Thomas, Roman, and Remus were dozing off in separate locations around the room, fighting sleep with every last fiber of effort they possessed. Soon after, they heard a deep, thunderous rumble outside in the driveway. The sound of an engine, a motorcycle engine. Instantly, Thomas was on his feet, yet he did not move from his place by the couch. Roman and Remus also sat up, heads tilted slightly tilted toward the sound of the engine rumble and fade. They were silent. A stillness settled over the sleepy home they shared. A single shadow approached the door. Keys jingled and slid reluctantly into the deadbolt, then the lock. The door cracked open and sent a blast of frigid air through the room. To the relief and frustration of the drowsy living room occupants, Ali crossed the threshold and came into the room.

Her helmet was under her left arm and a small carrying bag was in her right, which was bandaged thoroughly. Specks and streaks of blood had already soaked through some of the bandages. Ali seemed like she was in a daze, stumbling with a single step when it caught on the welcome mat at the entrance. Thomas stepped forward immediately, his face steeled. Ali’s shoulders slumped slightly and she refused to make eye contact with him. She looked worn out.

“Welcome back,” said Thomas. Ali hummed a quick acknowledgment as she stepped up to the wooden counter. “Where have you been?”

“Out,” Ali muttered. “Where are Roman and Remus? Have they gone to bed yet?”

“Don’t change the subject. Obviously you were out. Care to explain further?” questioned Thomas, an intuitive, knowing look in his eyes. When Ali didn’t respond after a beat, Thomas decided to press his luck. “We were really worried about you, Ali.”

“We?” grumbled Ali. Her movements were slow and even as she raised the case and set it on the table.

“Yes. We. The team, Roman, Remus, myself, Logan…” Thomas rattled off the names, but Ali seemed unphased at the moment. Roman and Remus finally managed to make it onto the table and began to jog toward Ali when they noticed the case. It was the same case they used when they were on a rescue. Thomas, for seemingly the first time, noticed the case.

“What’s this?” asked Roman, managing his words faster than his brother or Thomas. Ali smiled weakly while unzipping the case.

“New arrivals,” she said softly. Her voice, still laced with sadness, possessed some of its familiar mystique and charm as she folded the entrance down. “It’s okay. We’re here now.” Ali glanced at Roman and Remus. “I’m sorry to spring this on you. Do you feel okay to give your spiel? Just… let them know what this place is while I get some beds together.” Roman and Remus, stunned, felt their smiles return. This was the Ali they knew.

“Of course!” beamed Remus. “Always ready to serve. I am to please after all.” Roman elbowed his brother as they both stepped up to the bag’s entrance. They had seen many things, but nothing quite like the scene before them. Ali’s glove was shoved in the corner and acted as a large comforter for five new faces. One of them, a boy in his late teens, seemed to be the protector of the group based on the way he held a makeshift shield and a broken pin as a sword. There were two younger children, possibly no older than ten, who looked like twins. One appeared to be the mother, clutching her children close to her body. The last, another boy in his early teens, was severely bruised and, shockingly, wore very little clothing. The clothing he did wear included a leather collar and very short shorts. It appeared as though this was an entire family unit, each of them sharing similar features with the next. They shied away from Roman and Remus’s smiles, yet appeared simultaneously relieved at the sight of other borrowers.

“Friend?” asked the oldest child. His authoritarian voice was clear, concise, and deadly serious. Roman smiled.

“Friend,” Roman confirmed. “Welcome to the Shelter. I’m Roman, this is my brother, Remus. Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” The eldest, still skeptical, lowered his shield but kept the pin close.

“The human explained a little about this place. Is she still out there?”

“Ali? Yes, she’s here. There’s another human too, Thomas. He helped found this place with my brother and I. Don’t worry though. He’s like Ali, one of the good ones,” replied Roman, adding a dashing smile for reassurance. The twins looked up at their mother.

“Are we safe now momma?” they asked. Roman now could hear that they were fraternal twins, one boy and one girl. Their mother, rather than reply, smiled and kissed each of their heads.

“You are now,” grinned Remus. “Come on, let’s get you all settled in a room. We have one right next to our place. You can stay there for tonight and look at some more permanent places in the morning if you feel up to it.” The family stood shakily and approached cautiously, catching a glimpse of a still tensed Ali and Thomas. The eldest steeled himself and walked out with what confidence he had left and nodded curtly to Ali before assisting his family to the rappel lines. Before descending, he directed himself to Ali.

“You said it is not a requirement to see you tomorrow about… my brother’s injuries,” he stated firmly. Ali nodded.

“That’s right. You don’t have to see me ever if you don’t want to. Still, he does have some injuries I would like to check on with your permission. It will be later in the day when I get back so you don’t have to think about it for a while. Just, get some rest and I’ll see you maybe,” replied Ali. They could hear the honey-sweet tone returning to Ali’s voice as she spoke. The eldest nodded and began lowering his family down the lines until all of them were out of sight. Roman and Remus glanced to Thomas before also disappearing from sight, calling over their shoulders that they would be back after settling the family.

Thomas and Ali were now alone in the living room. After nearly twenty minutes, Roman and Remus returned. Also, by their side, jogged a very out-of-breath Logan. Ali, still unmoving and honed in on the bag, still kept her eyes from Thomas until he stepped closer.

“Ali,” panted Logan. “I’m glad to see you home and unharmed.” Ali’s lips curled into a sweet grin.

“It’s good to be back. I’m sorry I worried you all. I didn’t mean to be out so late.” apologized Ali.

“Ali,” started Thomas. “What happened? Where’d you go? Where did you find them?” Ali cleared her throat and moved to walk past Thomas to the staircase.

“Not now, Thomas. I heard your messages and we have a big day and need some sleep,” she muttered. Thomas reached out and tugged at Ali’s uninjured forearm.

“No. We need to talk. Where did you go?” asked Thomas, more forcefully this time. Ali’s eyes locked onto the stairs. Her jaw clenched.

“Let it go, Thomas,” muttered Ali, the same defeat from earlier creeping back into her voice.

“I need to know…” Thomas braced himself with a breath. “Did you drink?” Ali tensed and turned slowly to Thomas.

“That’s what this is about?” she asked disbelievingly.

“You know our agreement.” Logan leaned over to Roman and Remus, who seemed equally as tense as he did.

“Agreement? What agreement?” asked Logan hurriedly under his breath. Roman and Remus shrugged and motioned for Logan to wait and listen.

“I’m clean. Wanna fetch the breathalyzer?” Ali paused and sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Thomas nodded quietly, yet his eyes still conveyed his silent skepticism. Ali sighed, knowing Thomas’s stubbornness at the very least matched her own on certain matters.

“I took a drive around for a while. I did go into one of the bars nearby…” Ali paused, ensuring her eyes locked with Thomas’s so he could detect any and all falsehoods. “I did order a drink… and I watched the ice melt. Then I left… and went to see my dad… to…” Ali’s voice faltered for a moment before she continued, but not before she cleared her throat a few times.

“I just wanted to talk to him… that’s when I met them.” Thomas and the others could only assume Ali meant the other borrowers she brought in from the frigid night. At the moment, Thomas wasn’t as concerned about them. Instead, he smiled proudly.

“I believe you,” he muttered under his breath. Ali nodded, her face wincing slightly knowing exactly what was on the line if she had broken their agreement. Thomas extended his arm, a signature nonverbal for “do you want a hug?”. Ali nodded and silently slipped under his arm into a comforting hug. Ali’s frame shuddered, releasing the tension she kept pent up from the day, as she pressed herself into the thoughtful embrace. Thomas rubbed her shoulder and glanced to catch a glimpse of her face.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked. He didn’t need to see her face to feel her nod slowly. Thomas smiled and looked to Roman, Remus, and Logan. “Would you three like some tea?” Logan and Roman both nodded while Remus seemed less enthused by the idea of drinking warm leaf water so late at night. Before the humans could leave, Remus cleared his throat and stepped to the edge.

“I don’t know about the others, but would you mind giving me a lift to the kitchen? I’m worn out,” asked Remus. Thomas nodded and laid his hand on the table. Roman joined him after a moment. Logan, however, hesitated. Thomas headed to the kitchen while Ali stayed with him.

“I am sorry if I worried you Logan,” Ali apologized again. “I didn’t mean to walk out like that… I just… didn’t know what else to do.” Logan folded his hands behind his back and shook his head.

“No need to apologize,” he stated before hesitantly continuing. “I… did witness the exchange between you and Hickory.” Ali stiffened and averted her eyes quickly. Logan, afraid he might upset Ali again, continued quickly. “I just wanted to say that she had no rite to say those things to you and that I’m sorry that happened.” Ali nodded, but her signature smile remained hidden.

“Thank you. I… know I don’t deserve it but thank you.” Logan smiled and glanced toward the kitchen. The distance wasn’t far, but it was late and even his nocturnal schedule was failing him, eyes tiring slightly. He felt his pulse raising, knowing what he wanted to ask while feeling instinctual terror. He rolled his shoulders, reminding himself of the facts.

“Ali?” he began. Ali’s bright eyes flicked over to him. “I… er… well… I believe the tea is almost done in the kitchen. If it would not be too much to ask… would you… I mean…” Logan’s throat constricted, as if his mind would not willingly allow him to ask Ali to carry him to the kitchen. Yet, with a thoughtful chuckle, Ali’s intuition filled in the gaps. She, too, seemed slightly hesitant.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Before Logan could propose a counter argument against going with Ali, he realized he responded.

“Yes, I am certain.” Ali nodded and laid her uninjured hand on the table. Logan fought his instincts and, which as much confidence as he could muster, stepped onto her palm. He had seen Roman and Remus and Hickory do this same thing dozens of times over the course of time, but he did not think he would be in this position ever again after everything that happened in the lab. Ali’s fingers remained slightly curled as she lifted and walked with a smooth precision which made drifting clouds appear unstable. Thomas, who had just finished brewing the tea, turned to see Ali walk into the kitchen with Logan standing firmly in her hand. The sight brought a partial smile to his face, but he refrained from commenting as he set the tea on the counter for them.

After they took a collective moment, Thomas looked to Ali who was sitting on the counter next to Logan.

“So, Ali, you didn’t say how you came across the family,” began Thomas. Ali nodded as she blew the ribbons of steam from the top of her teacup. Thomas’s prompt was clear, and Ali knew he would want to know the story in case it came into question later. Business and curiosity. Ali could respect both. With a pensive sigh, Ali told them what transpired once she left the Shelter.

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

A helmet is a perfect sensory deprivation chamber. The thick padding on the inside offered security. The padding also blocked out unnecessary sounds, keeping the outside world muffled and distant. The dark interior and shaded visor guarded the eyes from light and external hindrances like bugs. It was protecting. It was comforting. Safe. Ali focused on the lack of feeling in her mind rather than her freezing, bloodied hands and the constricting, painful tightness forcing her to fight for every breath. The ache in her heart was familiar. It wasn’t something that she could touch or fix with a bandage from her kit. It was a draining ache, an indescribable emptiness consuming her in body and soul.

How could she say those things? Hickory, Ali’s so-called friend, used the precious secrets against her in front of a captive audience. Hickory had every reason to be angry, furious even. Ali was angry too; however, it did not justify what was said. At least, it didn’t justify it to Ali. Her disjointed thoughts whirled in her head and created emotional fragments of memory. No one thought stayed for more than a few seconds, but it was just long enough to drain her fight. That dark, sinister part of Ali began whispering doubts from within her solitude.

[Why do you put up with it? It isn’t your fault. What happened to Hickory wasn’t your fault. Why should you suffer for what your stepfather did? He’s the antagonist. He’s the reason Hickory’s family is gone. He’s the reason you mother is gone. Everything was better without him.] Ali felt warm tears soaking into the pads of her helmet and blurring her vision. She was sure snot was running over her lip. The misfortune of the situation was she accidentally confirmed it when she opened her mouth in a silent scream. She shouldn’t be riding her motorcycle. She knew she shouldn’t be riding. She was emotionally compromised and wasn’t even aware of where she had turned. A few lefts. A few rights. Red lights sprinkled throughout the ride. The voice of reason shattered through her mind and broke through the swirling, sinister voices enveloping her mind.

You need to stop.

Ali pulled off of the road and into a superstore parking lot, though she wasn’t sure which one. Frankly, she didn’t care. She turned the key to the off position. The engine growled beneath her as it settled into a short rest. Did she want to remove her helmet? Not really. Did she need to? Yes. She was sure she looked like a hot mess, but her appearance didn’t usually bother her in the first place. Her only apprehension was if someone random came up to her to check and see if she was alright. That was the last thing she could handle at the moment. She pealed her face from the now slightly sopping helmet. Had she really been crying that much? That same voice of reason pierced through her mind again. This time, saying something different.

You’re injured. You need to clean that injury. Those piercing wounds can be dangerous if the pin wasn’t clean.

Ali had almost forgotten due to the frigid cold wind rushing past and the freezing temperatures that her hand was now throbbing. The handle of her motorcycle glistened in the parking lot light. If her bike weren’t black, she would know instantly the glistening would be her drying scarlet blood. Thankfully, Ali always had some spare medical supplies on her bike in case Thomas or the others needed her on a rescue and someone needed medical attention. Ali flipped open the side satchel and fished out her supplies. Gauze, water, hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, pads, and her spare gloves. Ali meticulously poured the water onto her hand to wash off the drying blood, scraping some of it clean with the pads. She doused her hand with the peroxide. Small bubbles formed and sizzled against her skin, making her nerves twitch and sting. Ali wiped the area clean again before smothering the puncture wounds with Neosporin and wrapping her hand with the gauze. Now, becoming acutely aware of the cold, Ali shoved her hands into her spare gloves and placed the materials back into her bike satchel.

Ali could hear something chirping in her pocket and realized, after a moment, it was her phone. She had half a dozen missed text messages and at least three voice mails. The voice of reason did not win this time. The deep whispers encouraged her, and she obeyed. She turned off her phone. They continued to coax her.

[Why are you waiting out here in the cold? It’s not worth freezing to death over. You need to go inside somewhere. Anywhere. But don’t go into the store. You’ll be questioned for loitering. So… where’s somewhere you can go where you won’t be bothered and can warm yourself?] Ali involuntarily glanced across the street as if guided and spotted a dive bar. She couldn’t see the name and, frankly, she couldn’t care less. It would be warm. The potentially smokey environment and dim light would disguise her bloodshot eyes and disgusting facial orifices. Finally, after the day she had, the temptation of a drink was too much. Ali hopped back onto her motorcycle, forcing the wet sensation on her cheeks out of her head, and sped across the street to the bar.

The inside was a wreck. Sure, there were some nice neon signs, but not even that was a completely redeeming factor. The wooden panels on the ground seemed to be coated with some thick, tacky material which threatened to glue the patrons to the floor. The counters, tables, and booths were no better. Mysterious stains mixed with the polyurethane coating on the surfaces. A person’s elbow impressions were clearly visible on the counter at the bar where Ali elected to sit on the least torn pleather seat. The air was thick with body odor and booze. Surprisingly, no smell of smoke. A fair bet would be that this place was overdue for a health inspection. Music was playing from somewhere near the counter, but Ali couldn’t place the tune. The bartender, a greasy looking man who was slightly balding on top yet had a neck beard for days, stepped up to her. Ali ignored the fact a few of his teeth were blackening around the gums as he spoke.

“What can I getcha darlin’?” he asked. Ali felt something rise in the back of her throat at the smell of his breath.

“Do you make long island iced tea?” asked Ali, some part of her speaking which was beyond her control. The bartender grinned.

“Rough day?”

“Something like that,” Ali muttered. The bartender let out a long, knowing hum.

“I think I could pull something together like that for you. Just a sec.” He disappeared from Ali’s field of vision. The same voices, in her solitude, returned.

[What are you even doing at the Shelter? What are you trying to do with your life? Trying to make up for your mistakes? Trying to ease your demons into submission? Why try? I mean, you only work at the Shelter to help out Thomas and the others. That’s external gratification. You’re only seeking praise for doing something you think is noble. Right? Living for the praise of others? Do you even do anything for you? You became a paramedic because it’s what your dad would have wanted. You help at the Shelter because it’s what Thomas wanted. You volunteer your efforts because it is expected. You entered that pathetic relationship of yours because others thought you worked well together. You even got engaged because it’s what HE wanted. And now you’re alone. All alone. Lonely little Ali cat. What are you even doing?]

The bartender returned with her drink at some point and stood in front of her expectantly for his payment. Ali fumbled through her pockets and pulled out two crumpled fives and a few ones. If she was being honest, she wasn’t sure how many ones she fished out of her wrinkled back pocket. All she knew was the bartender seemed pleased and wandered away from her. Ali watched the condensation around the glass gather and glide down the side. What was she doing with her life? Ali reached for the glass when something stopped her. She wasn’t sure what it was. Instead of grasping the drink, Ali simply stared at her bandaged hand. Tiny specks and streaks of blood were leaking through the bandage. After agitating the area, Ali suspected it would happen. Yet, somehow, seeing the bandage on her hand brought back that small, inner voice of reason.

You are better than this.

Ali’s hand was just inches away from the glass. The difference between wallowing in misery and blissful, mental silence was right in front of her. A quick fix. A cure. She couldn’t do it. It frustrated her to no end. She could not bring herself to pick up the drink. The voice of reason broke through the calculated whispers again. For whatever reason, that little voice of reason sounded like Logan.

You do not need this to be happy. One drink will not solve your problems. It will make them worse, and you know it.

Ali balled her injured hand into a fist. She felt the bandages constricting her movements. She felt her nails through the gauze agitating the injuries just beneath the surface. She knew she couldn’t now. Within a few inches of her life, the voice of reason won. Ali pushed the drink away, leaving a trail of water and grime in its wake. She couldn’t help but smile as more warm tears trickled down her cheeks. As though pulled from the darkness, Ali’s pinpointed vision cleared. Her senses opened up.

Now, she began noticing things she hadn’t before. First and foremost, she looked like a hobo. A horribly mismatched hobo. From her puffy red eyes and slightly chapped nose to her holed sweater, stained tennis shoes, and second-hand coat, she could not have put off more pathetic vibes if she tried. It was all she had wither after her shift when she met up with Thomas and the team. Why didn’t they tell her she looked like a hot mess? The bartender most likely too pity on the way she looked and that’s why he didn’t card her; at least, that was the reason she gave. Next, she noticed she wasn’t the only one in the bar. There was a group of men in the corner booth causing a horrendous ruckus. Ali would have thought it was just the group being stupid and inconsiderate if her eyes didn’t catch the slight movement on the table. Ali felt herself tense, an involuntary hiss rising in her throat, as she realized what was going on.

The group was tormenting a borrower. From what little she could see, he was barely dressed and was being poked and prodded. Ali moaned. [Seriously? As if today weren’t bad enough! Now, the most random place I go to has these fracking morons doing this?] She had to do something. Thinking quickly and feeling wasteful, Ali grabbed her drink, poured a significant amount on the floor, and flagged down the bartender. She smiled widely and as charming as she was capable of given the circumstances.

“Yes? Ah, like the drink?” he grinned. Ali suppressed a shiver and nodded instead.

“It is very good. Best I’ve had in a while. Maybe ever,” said Ali as she forced a partial wink. She had been tipsy enough to know her believable behaviors. Through his beard, Ali could see him blush slightly. “You know what else I like?” Ali leaned forward, realizing only after that this trick was not as effective with a sweater.

“Sorry sweetheart! I’m a married man.” The bartender’s thunderous laugh rattled the drink in Ali’s hand. She played along with a giggle.

“Awww… of course,” she swayed slightly on the chair. “But, really, what I really like is that over there.” Ali leaned forward and pointed a finger toward the borrower who was trying to hind behind the bottles and glasses on the table. Ali watched as he slipped on the table, landing with a harsh yelp and subsequent wince. Ali wrestled with the urge to slap every person at the table as they laughed.

“Ah! Yeah, that’s one of them tinies. Found ‘em out and about on his own when I was changing my tire one morning. Can you believe it?”

“Really?” Ali gasped in fake disbelief. “Well. I think it’s just the most adorable thing.” The bartender, lured by Ali’s ruse, smiled, revealing even more blackening teeth.

“Wanna have a closer look?” he asked. Ali feigned shock and elation.

“Really?! You’d let me see closer?” she asked. In a fraction of a moment, the bartender walked over to the table, apologizing to the slightly intoxicated men, and seized the borrower. The group groaned in exaggerated disappointment as the bartender made his apologies. The group suddenly noticed Ali, sitting alone and on her own with a mostly empty drink. They quieted, many of them leaning back and nodding subtly. Ali pushed their reaction to her out of their head and the fact they quieted to watch her to focus solely on the struggling borrower in the bartender’s clenched fist.

“Hold out your hands,” instructed the bartender. Ali obliged and, in a second, a small, trembling form was dropped into her open palms. He pushed himself up onto his knees and was visibly shaking from head to toe. His shoulders were slumped and limp. From what Ali could tell, he was in his early teens. He was covered in bruises shaped perfectly like gripping fingers. He was grabbing at his wrist, most likely a result from his slip earlier. What really agitated Ali, however, was that the boy was dressed in a collar and very short shorts. There were tears on his smudged face as he looked up frightfully at Ali, his piercing blue eyes revealing how broken he felt. Ali felt herself wanting to shake. She wanted to sprint out with the boy now. Yet, she had to be patient.

“You need to get a bit of a tighter hold on him. He’s a quick one,” stated the bartender as he cupped his hands around Ali’s, encasing the boy further. The man’s hands were grimy and calloused. Ali could almost hear the boy’s whimper as her fingertips accidentally brushed against his back.

“Oh, okay okay,” Ali muttered mechanically. Determined, Ali smiled sweetly back at the bartender. “He is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Have you registered him yet? Does he have a name?” She knew her voice was louder than what the borrower would have liked, but she needed to play along. Just for a little while longer.

“Isn’t he? I’ve been calling him Squirt. Haven’t had the time or the funds to register him properly. Cost of keeping a license on them with the microchip and everything just doubled.” Ali felt a wave of relief rush over her. The kid wasn’t registered. This was her chance. Ali readjusted her hands to give the boy a little more room while keeping her hands open. She pretended to sway and giggled again. Hopefully the barkeep would think she was a lightweight and buy her tipsy charade.

“Well, you’re really lucky. Ever since the whole news came out about them, I’ve wanted one. My roommate, however,” Ali rolled her eyes. “She didn’t like it and wouldn’t let me get one. But! She just moved out.” Ali glanced up at the bartender with a flirtatious smile. “Just outa curiosity, how much would this little guy be?” The bartender laughed heartily.

“Aw, he’s not for sale. It’d break my heart to sell him.” Something in his voice pricked Ali’s mind. Something that sounded greedy. Ali stuck out her lower lip just enough to draw pity.

“No!” she whined. “Come on! How much? If you had to sell him right now, what would you take for him?” The bartender looked at Ali up and down hard for a moment, measuring her mentally. Based on her physical appearance and the crumpled bills she fished out of her pocket, she didn’t look like she had much spare pocket change. On the other hand, looks could be deceiving. The bartender seemed caught between leaning one way or the other.

“For you? If I could have cash, right here right now, I’d let him go for two grand even. No checks. No credit or debit. Cold, hard cash.” The guys who were listening in at the other table simultaneously exclaimed at the price. Ali felt her jaw drop, not at the outrageous price, but at the sheer pleasure of knowing she won. She shifted the child onto one hand and fished out her wallet. Before the bartender could blink, Ali removed the funds from her wallet and set the stack of bills onto the table. The room went silent.

“No… no… I… I wasn’t being serious,” the bartender tried to blurt out, but the table of men in the corner leapt up in a baffled exclamation as if they watched the winning touchdown in a championship tournament.

“No, you said that, for me, he was worth two grand cash. There’s your money. Count it out, and I’ll be on my way,” Ali stood and backed away from the counter, fearing she might actually get hit.

“You carry that much cash around with you?” he asked, still astounded and frustrated.

“I cashed my check today,” said Ali. The group, who watched the entire encounter, were rolling on the ground in laughter.

“No! You got played!” shouted the men in the corner. “You said it. Sorry man. You gave her a price and you got paid!” The bartender, scowling and fuming, angrily counted the stack of money. He glared at Ali before pointing at the door.

“Get out,” he growled. Ali, with a mischievous grin, nodded and headed out of the bar in a relative haste. She hadn’t realized until she stepped out in the cold and exhaled that she was holding her breath during her final exchange with the bar’s owner. She made a mental note to report them to the health department before turning her attention to the borrower tucked in her palm. Ali walked to her bike and sat down, opening her palm to look at the boy again. He was shivering uncontrollably.

“I’m really sorry about all of that,” said Ali, her voice returning to its soft, signature timbre. She stared into the child’s eyes for a moment. “I know you’re terrified of me and everything that’s happened, but you’re going to be okay.”

“P… pl… please d… don’t h… hurt me.” The boy’s voice was so quiet, Ali almost missed what he said. His voice was shaking so hard, both from the cold and fear. Ali, not knowing what else to do, pulled out her glove from her pocket and spread out the opening like a sleeping bag. The boy’s eyes widened in terror as he tried to back away, but instead bumped into Ali’s slightly curled fingers. Ali sighed. They were just gloves, but the thought of being confined was probably the last thing the kid wanted.

“I promise, you’re going to be okay. I know you’re scared and cold and have no reason to trust me; however, right now, you need to stay warm.” Ali sighed, knowing that reasoning with the child was not as effective as she anticipated. “Look. Let’s start over. My name is Ali. What’s your name?” The boy sniffed and curled in on himself. He seemed locked in an internal debate. He was obviously uncomfortable with questions, but this seemed to be the first time someone asked his name.

“N… no. Y… you’ll jus… just hurt me if I t… tell you. I’m n… not supposed to… to talk to humans,” he stammered. Ali allowed herself to smile slightly as to not scare the poor boy.

“I know, and I promise you that I’m here to help you. You’re not with that scary bartender anymore, right?” Ali’s statement wasn’t false. The boy, seeming both defeated and slightly convinced by that statement, looked away as he curled his knees to his chest.

“M… my name is F…Fjord,” he stuttered.

“Fjord?” repeated Ali. Fjord nodded timidly. “It’s nice to meet you.” Ali smiled encouragingly, which seemed to calm the boy’s tears. Another gust of frigid wind ripped through Ali and Fjord. His body seized as he violently shuddered.

“Fjord? I know you’re really scared right now and the last thing you want to do is trust a human. Goodness knows we haven’t earned your trust. This cold is not good for you. This glove is warm and fuzzy and not very tight. Sadly, this is all I have, unless you’d rather stay in a pocket.” Fjord sniffled and shrank in on himself. Given the two options, it was clear he was leaning for the promise of the warm, fuzzy glove. He pointed to the glove and reluctantly scooted to the edge of Ali’s palm as she held it open. He shuddered again and slipped in. Both Ali and Fjord made sure his head was above the hem so he could breath uninhibited. His shivering lessened significantly, but not completely.

Ali glanced around, now wondering where she was and how she was going to get home. Luckily, after a moment, she realized where she was and where she wanted to go next. She looked back to Fjord, who was already falling limp with exhaustion with every second that passed. The warmth of the glove seemed to be soothing him. She wanted to get him home, but something tugged at her. Something knew what she needed to do before heading back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to go and see him, her father, tonight.

“Fjord?” she said softly. His eyes shot open and snapped up to her, startled at the sudden address of his name. Ali’s nurturing instincts kicked into gear. “You’re okay. Everything is fine. We need to be heading back home, okay? I have to make a quick stop and then we’ll get out of this cold.” Fjord seemed pleased to be out of the cold but fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought of being taken to yet another strange place with a human. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but refrained out of fear.

“Before we leave, do you know if there are any other borrowers in the bar here?” asked Ali. Fjord looked up at her, surprised and slightly alarmed.

“H… how do you know what I am? H… humans j… just call us tinies,” asked Fjord. Ali smiled gently.

“I live at a Shelter for mistreated borrowers in bad places. We rescue them and then they get to live in the Shelter, like how things used to be before we knew you existed,” explained Ali. To be fair, she knew what she said sounded unbelievable, especially to the mind of a child. However, a gleam of hope sparked somewhere in Fjord’s broken eyes. “So, do you know if any other borrowers live in the bar?” Fjord thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“I d… don’t think so,” he replied. Ali nodded.

“Okay. We’re going to leave now. I do have to put you in my coat here, and it’s going to be a little loud. The coat and glove should help muffle the sounds though. Don’t worry, it’s not for too long. Okay?” Fjord did not like the idea of being placed in Ali’s inside coat pocket in a glove with loud noises, but he nodded reluctantly as he could think of no alternative. Ali thanked the heavens her motorcycle was not very loud and electric. She shifted the glove from being cupped in both hands and tucked it by her collar so Fjord could see just above the zipper while still being able to burrow further for protection. She started her motorcycle and placed the helmet on her head. Nice and quick. Starting slow, Ali merged and sped up on the road toward the place she knew she needed to go – the cemetery.

__________~~~__________

Large, fluffy snowflakes drifted through the air like elegant pieces of lace. Ali dismounted her bike and gazed at the scene before her. There were very few lights illuminating the field, but the ones which were there looked like halos with the snow swirling around them. At night, the vast field of gravestones was devoid of color. The white stones mixed with the silhouettes of the trees and falling snow, creating a somber, monochrome scene. The stones themselves stood resolute, as if they were Soldiers themselves. It had been a while since Ali had been back, and yet it felt as though not a day had gone by.

As she walked past the stones, her footsteps imprinting in the snow with a soft crunch, something felt stronger, like she was gaining back a piece of herself with every step. Ali felt a slight shift by her collar. It must’ve been Fjord readjusting. He hadn’t said anything after the ride, even when Ali asked if he was alright after the ride. On the upside, it didn’t feel like he was trembling anymore.

She stopped instinctually among the field of fallen Soldiers. Without even glancing at the names, she knew she arrived. Her father’s name, etched in black, was slightly filled with the snow. Ali knelt faithfully and began dusting the snow away as if she were carefully picking lint from her father’s best dinner jacket. The cold snow melted against Ali’s pants and began to soak them, but Ali didn’t care. She was focused on maintaining eye contact with the stone. Her heart ached at the sight. For someone so warm and giving, fun and full of life, this simple pillar did not do him justice. Still, Ali knew her father would have respected the order and tidiness of it all. He never did like the way Ali’s toys were strewn throughout the house, especially the pointed building blocks. Ali calmed her breathing, noticing how it paused twice in her chest, before speaking softly as to not disturb her tagalong.

“Hi dad… it’s me, you’re little Ali cat, come back to Wonderland.” She suspected she would be choked up, but it came sooner than she thought, and she had barely begun. She watched her breath escape her body in a thick, foggy cloud. “I’m sorry I haven’t come sooner. I know I promised to be back soon. Things happen I guess.” A feeling crept up into the back of Ali’s throat. It wasn’t sickness or nervousness. It was an anxious tense which made her jaw ache and left a metallic taste on her tongue.

“Mom died today…” Ali’s voice hitched. It was only the second time she said it aloud. “I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but our last talk wasn’t exactly the fuzzy, happy-feel-good kind. I have to get some things in order and call a bunch of people. I should feel furious but all I can do is… well, I just… I hope… she’s happy now. I hope she’s with you and that… she’s…” Ali forced her mind to put together the phrases. “I hope she’s the way you remember her. I guess, in that sense, she’s been gone a long time.” Ali gazed at the glistening stone.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing with my life…” The familiar tightness enveloped the top of her lungs. “I know I have my struggles and I’m certainly in no position to complain. It’s just… am I doing what I do because others want me to? Or am I doing them because that’s what I want… if that even makes sense.” Ali glanced at her bandaged hand. The spots and streaks of blood had not grown larger, thankfully.

“Do I help save people because it’s what I want? Or because you saw some kind of good in me? Am I helping the borrowers out of guilt for what that piece of… because of what he did? Am I atoning for what I did wrong?” Ali signed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her bandaged hand.

“It doesn’t help that I was yelled at by my friend, Hickory. I told you about her. She said a lot of things to me. Hurtful things. I… I know why she said it, all of the reasons actually. I took it, for what it’s worth, but I walked away. Does that make me a coward? Or does that make me the bigger person, no pun about her being so much shorter than me.” Ali found herself chuckling, knowing her father would be the person to point out that humans are obviously the “bigger person.” Even without him being there, his dad jokes were making her laugh.

Once the moment passed, Ali just stared back at her father’s etched name. “I just… I just wish I knew. You know? Like a sign? Something that makes me feel like I’m on the right path. I wish I knew that what I do is for me because it’s what I want, not what’s expected of me.” Ali listened to the snowfall. She pretended the snowflakes were shooting stars as she cast her wishes onto them. It didn’t work, but she didn’t expect it to. Somehow, staring at the stiff, cold letters of her father’s name made her feel better. She couldn’t explain why, but it was reassuring at any rate.  

“Well, it’s getting late. I’m trying to outlast the moon as you’d say… I miss you dad. I miss you so much. I hope you’re watching out for me. I love you dad.” Ali stood and touched the frosty stone with the tips of her fingers before turning and walking back toward her ride. Ali shoved her hands into her pockets in an attempt to warm them. She only had the one glove remaining, but she wasn’t mad about it. She paused as she felt another shift by her collar. It felt like a stretch. Ali felt herself grin. Even if it was out of exhaustion and not relative trust, Fjord was getting some rest.

Ali’s motorcycle was just in sight when she noticed a car which had not been there when she arrived. What little warmth residing in her cheeks drained as she recognized the vehicle type. It was a Tiny Patrol vehicle, the group sent to capture borrowers. Ali glanced around frantically. Had the bartender called them to search for her? What were they doing out at this hour? If they were here, did that mean there were more borrowers nearby? Whatever the case, Ali readied herself.

She moved cautiously around the side of the truck and spotted one human instantly. He had a flashlight and was shining it along the rows and rows of gravestones. His eyes were fixed on the ground while the flashlight beam scanned back and forth meticulously. Ali couldn’t help but release a slight sigh of relief. He wasn’t looking for her. Based on what she could see in the truck through the opened back door, there were no borrowers inside either. It was becoming rarer to find borrowers living independently nowadays, but it was not impossible.

It was out of the corner of her eye, but several small shadows sprinted in the open, across the road, and headed for the gravestones on the opposite side. The flashlight, however, just glanced over their heads. In a panic, the shadows ran to Ali’s motorcycle and hid behind her front tire. The human started to approach their hiding place. Ali felt another small shift by her collar. She needed to act, and fast. The Tiny Patrol member hadn’t noticed her. Now was her moment. Ali stepped out from behind the car and approached briskly. She knew the borrowers would be panicking. She would be too if she were cornered by two creatures so much bigger and stronger than herself. When she was a little more than a few meters away, she knelt and pretended to tie her shoe. She could now see the huddled mass of three, possibly four, borrowers. She made eye contact and quickly held her finger to her lips in a silent shushing motion.

“He can’t see you. If you stay quiet, he won’t notice you. I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m going to take a couple steps closer. Just stay still and I’ll get him to leave,” said Ali hurriedly. She didn’t know what else to say to the frightened individuals who were terrified, cold, and being hunted down. Thankfully, they didn’t move. Ali wasn’t sure if it was because they were exhausted or if they had given into their suspected fate. The Tiny Patrol member approached just as she stood and stepped forward.

“Can I help you?” asked Ali. The sound of her voice startled the young man, who quickly shined the flashlight in her eyes before gasping and turning it off. She felt a quick shift near her collar and prayed Fjord would stay quiet and still as well as forgive her for using a much louder volume than when she spoke with him.

“Uh… no, ma’am. Sorry about that. I was… er… just investigating the surroundings. I didn’t mean to… uh… get so close to your bike. A call came in a few hours ago about a possible tiny sighting, but I haven’t seen anything yet,” said the man. He sounded like a polite enough person, but he was still tracking down borrowers. Ali furrowed her brows.

“Tinies? Out here on a night like this?” asked Ali. The man nodded.

“I thought I saw something, but I can’t be sure. I’ve only been working this job for a month, so I don’t know all of the ‘signs’ or whatever.” His laughter indicated a nervous and relatively playful tone, but all Ali wanted to do was slap him and send him home to think about what he had done. Ali feigned thinking for a moment before pointing further into the cemetery.

“You know, now that you mention it, I might’ve seen something over where I just was, right over there.” Ali pointed to a distant tree on one of the sloping hills. “I can’t be certain. I’ve… been a little out of it today. Maybe that’s what I saw?” The young man glanced at the tree, stomped his foot in frustration, and readjusted his winter cap.

“Well, it’s better than nothing. If I’m not thorough, my boss will hang me out to dry. Thanks for the tip. If you’ll excuse me, have a good night.” The young man walked briskly past Ali without a second glance and began jogging to the tree. Ali ensured he was just out of earshot when she returned her attention to the huddled borrowers by her tire. She lowered herself to her knees, trying to appear as unintimidating as possible.

“He’s gone for now, but he’ll be back,” she said in her signature, honeyed tone. She watched one silhouette remove what looked like a pin from their side.

“You got rid of him, yes,” said a male voice. His voice seemed deeper yet lacked the intimidation and wisdom of someone older. “All for what? Now you have us to yourself? I don’t think so!” The other three whimpered and hugged tightly to one another. Ali sighed. She wished there was some sort of code word which would signify her allegiance, but things like that only existed in stories.

“You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you, or separate you, or send you away. I suppose you could leave if you really want to,” Ali meant the last comment to be to herself, but this statement seemed to catch the group’s ears. “But, please, hear me out.”

“Why should we?” demanded the same masculine voice.

“Because I work at a Shelter where human laws don’t apply. Have you heard of the Tiny Shelter per chance?” Ali only heard silence. “The Shelter is a borrower rescue initiative. We go out and rescue borrowers in bad places and keep them from going to places like laboratories or separated and kept as pets.” Ali heard hushed whispers and quick exchanges.

“No,” said the same voice. “It’s a trick. It has to be.”

“It’s not a trick,” pleaded Ali. She glanced over her shoulder. The worker was almost at the tree in the distance. “I know how crazy this must sound to you. Really. You have no reason to trust me and I understand that. But isn’t it worth the chance? Stay here to maybe get caught and separated or stay together in a place you’ll be respected and protected from the humans?” Ali stared at the shapes desperately.

“Y… you won’t separate us?” called a slightly older, more mature sounding female voice.

“Mother,” the first voice hissed.

“Storm!” the female voice scolded. “What makes you so sure that you and this Shelter can keep us safe?” Ali let out a half-sigh of relief.

“We’ve done it for just over a year now. We’ve been working with our team to reverse a lot of laws. We’ve rescued over fifty borrowers in the past two months and…”

“And then what? Once you have them in your Shelter, what do you do to them?” demanded the one called Storm.

“Nothing,” urged Ali. She knew her time was going to run short any moment. “You go on living your lives as though humans never discovered your existence.” There was a brief silence.

“I don’t like it,” hissed Storm, just loud enough for Ali to hear.

“Storm, we cannot keep running like this. After your father… and your brother…” the woman’s voice faltered. “What matters is keeping our family together. Winter is here and, if we’re being honest, we will continue to freeze on the run. At least, in our home, we had shelter and safety. We’re out in the open.”

“So, we give up?” demanded Storm. “No! That’s not what dad or Fjord would have wanted!” Ali’s jaw dropped as she felt another shift against her collar.

“I’m sorry,” she interjected, making the borrowers flinch. “Did you say your brother’s name is Fjord?”

“What do you care human?” spat Storm.

“Mom?” Ali heard a small voice slightly muffled by her jacket. “Is… is that… Mom!” The group watched as Ali unzipped part of her coat and removed a glove with the utmost care. She laid the glove onto the ground. Instantly, the mother cried out, a mixture of pure elation and mortified realization. She scurried forward before Storm could stop her and collapsed to her knees as Fjord wriggled free from the warmth of the glove into his mother’s arms.

“FJORD!” two smaller, younger voices cried out and rushed past Storm, who approached while keeping a careful eye on Ali. Ali couldn’t quite make out what was being said, except to say that the reunion would melt even the coldest of hearts.

“What did you do to him?” asked Storm once the sobs of joy quieted.

“I found him in a dive bar down the road. I was bringing him to the Shelter when I felt like I needed to stop here,” replied Ali. The hairs raised on the back of her neck. She glanced over and watched the flashlight approaching, much more rapidly than she wanted. Ali looked back into Storm’s eyes.

“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. Not really. The guy is coming back right now. You can stay and take your chances or come with me to the Shelter. There’s warm clothing, food, and a place for you to live together as a family. That’s more important now than anything now.” Ali’s eyes locked with the mother’s eyes, then Fjord’s eyes. The two youngest still had their faces buried in their mother’s shoulders.

“We’ll go to the Shelter,” announced the mother. Ali remembered, only now, she had an extra carrying bag in the compartment under her seat. It would be comfortable, and the family wouldn’t be separated. It was difficult to ignore how the family flinched as she reached over their heads and retrieved the bag. Still, it was the right thing to do. Ali unzippered the bag. With much reluctance, the family entered, Storm entering last.

“If anything happens to them, I swear this pin is the last thing you will see,” growled Storm. Ali nodded.

“Understood. Here,” she took the glove and pulled at the seams. It was hardly a fight. The glove came apart, revealing the soft interior. She pushed the glove closer. “You can use it as a blanket until we get back.” Storm nodded curtly as he dragged the glove inside. Ali had barely enough time to clear out her side satchel and place the bag into it gently when the worker returned. With a quick nod, she started her engine and sped off into the night.

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

Ali realized how her story sounded. Absolutely fabricated. Crazy. Too coincidental. To these mental comments, she could only muster a soft chuckle. It was the kind of story her father would tell. It had suspense, a touch of heartache, and a happy ending. Her father would say, “There are no such things as coincidences,” followed by his broad, thoughtful smile making the sides of his eyes wrinkle. As Ali sat on the counter, feeling the warmth of the mug in her hands, she felt a secondary warmth igniting in her frozen heart. She couldn’t help but feel like she had her answer, in whatever weird way or another. Ali just so happened to find the brother of a borrower family in a dive bar after visiting her father’s grave. It all aligned too perfectly; or did it? Maybe, just maybe, that’s what was supposed to happen. Maybe, just maybe, that was her sign.

`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

[grimweaver]

                                                            ~*~

           Lucien leaned back again and closed his eyes as he sipped his tea, with a hum going out with a long and low exhale through his nostrils. After some time of wrapping his head around this revelation, within the uncomfortable silence that fell between us, his eyes shot open and stared up at me over the rim of his cup, ablaze and sharp with anticipation for a further explanation.

           I wet my lips and heaved out the rest:

           “On the 16th of Sun’s Dawn, Year 409, father attended a Hearts Day Celebration at Castle Cheydinhal. It had been seven years since we lost mother to an untimely death— from a respiratory illness that she had developed as a consequence of prolonged confinement in the coal mines of Eastmarch during a Fighters Guild quest. Being a widow and single father for that long was beginning to weigh his spirits down, so he went with the innocent intention of finding someone who would make a good wife and mother. All was well and promising for a while, but it took a horrible turn near the end. While he was in the library, conversing with the countess, he blacked out. For a time, the only thing he could recall happening after that was waking up in one of the guest rooms… lying next to the still sleeping Llathasa.”

           Lucien responded with another low, growling noise into his tea as he sipped it again.

           “After a great deal of agonizing and trying to figure out how the hell it all happened, father left for home that very morning. During the trip back, he started to remember some things that happened between the library and waking up— that he was overcome by what he called a ‘waking dream’—though fully conscious, all reason and fear of consequences left him, responding only to his… um…  attraction to Llathasa. It became clear to him that, during this event, someone must’ve slipped something into one of the wine barrels that altered the minds of all who consumed it—Sanguine mischief most likely, since that prince of sexual deviousness has his goons cause chaos of that nature on Hearts Day every year.”

           “Sounds like a logical conclusion to me,” he heaved, sitting up straight to eat from his plate with the usual aristocratic grace. His brow sank over his puzzled eyes. “Where was Andel all that time?”

           “I have no idea. Obviously, wherever he was, it was not where he could’ve intervened or discovered them together. Anyway… I’m sure you’ve done the math in your head already, but that was roughly nine months before Farwil was born. During that time, father avoided Castle Cheydinhal out of fear and guilt, but was compelled to return when we received the ‘exciting’ announcement that Lady Llathasa was finally with child, and that we were invited to stay in the castle to be a part of the celebration of his birth. Knowing that he was the real father of the child, he insisted on being there, no matter how awkward it was going to be for him or Llathasa. It was his son.”

           “I understand the compulsion, but if I were in his boots I would not’ve brought my children with me. What if Andel knew and had his guards ready to ambush and send him to the executioner’s block?”

           “He was assured that he didn’t. Llathasa included a secret message in the invitation that was sent out to him. It said: ‘He’s your son. Andel doesn’t know’.”

           “Hmm… and how did you come to know all of this?”

           “I overheard a conversation between him and my eldest sister, Ruthandra. It was on the evening we returned from one of our visits with the Indarys family. Thirst woke me up, and as I went downstairs to fetch water from the well, I was stopped by their voices; there was a tension in them that piqued my interest, so I stopped and listened carefully as he spilled it all out. I was old enough to put a few pieces of the conversation that I heard together and understand that he had fathered Farwil.” I stopped to soothe my dry and tightened throat with more tea. “I remember just sitting there at the bottom of the stairs and staring out the window of the back door, just trying to comprehend what I had just heard. By the time I had realized father was about to walk right past me, on his way to his bedroom, it was too late to scamper up the stairs unnoticed. When he inquired about why I was up so late, I told him it was for water and admitted that I had overheard what he told Ruthandra. He wasn’t happy about it, but he answered me truthfully when I asked if Farwil is our little brother—leaving out explicit details, of course. He told me that Andel should never suffer the knowledge of the truth, so that he may remain until his last breath in blissful belief that his wife had bedded with no other man and Farwil is his flesh-and-blood son. He made me promise to keep it a family secret, and I have for over twenty years. You’re the first person I’ve shared this with.” I reached down to grab more snacks from the plate, but it was completely empty— I had been absently munching on them throughout the whole story. Catching my breath after exhausting my voice, I just went quiet for a while and waited for him to reply.

   “Malkhai,” he said, looking directly into my eyes with deep sincerity. “I promise that this secret will be safe with me. And… don’t you fret any about breaking the promise to your father. It’s like you said—it is a family secret. You and I are family.”

           I smiled weakly. “I wish I could say it makes me feel better. But there are still anxious thoughts about Andel—he’s never confronted me about it but… it’s so obvious that he at least knows that Farwil was fathered by someone else. My theory is that, before understanding the situation, he performed the Black Sacrament to have a Llathasa’s accident staged by a Dark Brotherhood assassin, which is why he is now bound to a lifelong obligation to us.” I leaned forward and looked directly into his eyes. “Would I be correct... Lucien ?”

           The corner of his mouth stretched into a sinister grin as he narrowed his eyes and chuckled, “It would certainly seem to be the case, wouldn’t it?” He laced his fingers together over his wide, toothy smile as he chuckled again, “As much as I would like to take credit for that work, I must be honest and say that I was not involved in her death… none of our Brothers or Sisters were, in fact.”

           “But… then for whom did Andel perform the Black Sacrament?”

           “A political rival, and that’s all I’m going to say.” Lucien’s brow sank again, struck by the memory of what was said back in Taneth. “Hmmm… but I do wonder… thinking back on what Farwil said about Llathasa lamenting at the chapel… if it was all an accident, why would she say she had ‘hurt a friend in a way she feared can never be forgiven’?”

           “That confuses me too,” I said. “At this point, the only way we’ll ever know is if I unearth more of those private letters or father can explain it himself… if I ever find him.” A sudden dreadful thought entered my mind, twisting knots in my chest. With much reluctance, I asked Lucien “Please tell me… did the Dark Brotherhood make my father disappear?”

           Lucien shook his head immediately, looking straight into my eyes again as he said “I swear to all the Powers of the Void, we were not involved in his disappearance either.”

           “Oh good!!” I breathed out with a sigh of relief. “Because that would’ve made things even more complicated than they already are.” I pondered a little while, scratching my chin. “Still, it doesn’t rule out the possibility of Andel’s involvement.” I grinned, then flirtatiously folded my arms under my chest and leaned inward. “Gee… I sure wish I knew someone who could do some thorough, investigative work in the castle to find any clues that would either confirm or deny that theory. I’ll be sure to make it worth the effort and risk, once I am in a... position to do so.”

           "Considering what he'll risk," Lucien replied, taking in a deep breath and hiding a bashful grin behind his cup as he sipped more tea. “That someone would have to consult his superior first, I'm sure… but this matter must be set aside for now. We need to keep our focus on our current task.”

           “Right… which means that we need to get adequate sleep soon,” I looked over at the large bed in the corner, through the protective rail made with scrapped Ayleid doors, torturing myself with a vision of us between those silky red sheets.

           “Yes. I suppose, since it's already well past midnight, I'll have to let you go back to the guildhall.” Lucien replied. He then followed my gaze and read the longing in it well, then said with an aggravated sigh, “You know how much I wish I could ask you to stay.”

           “I do, but I know why you cannot. But... as much as I disagree with the reasoning, I will respect it.”

           “Thank you. I can’t say that I don’t share your frustration, but you need to understand the Listener’s restrictions as a necessary measure. In the past, our enemies have gone as far as marrying a member of the Black Hand in order to infiltrate the organization, and have done so successfully multiple times. Also, there is the concern of a relationship opening the doors of favoritism and manipulation. The Listener needs to know that it is through your own talents and skills that you have achieved high ranks and rewards, not because I gave you an unfair advantage.”

           “The marriage part I understand just fine, but not even being allowed to... “ I shook my head and grumbled. “I’m sorry, but I think that’s insane.”

           Lucien heaved a heavy, gravely breath as he shot me a warning glare.

           "And... um... I'm just going to stop there... before I say anything else I'll probably regret," I said, averting my eyes as I stood up.

           “Wise decision.” He replied, rising also and fetching my bag and cowl for me.

           “So... um… what are you going to tell the Listener if he asks you why you chose me to play the student?” I asked him.

           “The truth, of course: you’re strong enough to bear the weight of all those metal pieces, and you’re the only one that possesses the right... hmm… aesthetic qualities .” He answered—heaving a gravely, longing breath. I could almost feel his touch as he eyed me up and down, and it sent another fiery wave through my body.

           We then departed the way we had greeted— with some uneasiness, he slowly closed the short distance between us and placed his hands upon my shoulders. This time the kisses he gave each cheek were a little longer, and he couldn’t resist taking the perfume in again as he kissed the left check. He tilted his head slightly to the right, almost giving into the temptation to kiss my lips. With his mouth only a couple inches away from mine, he half-whispered: “Rest well, Malkhai .”

           “You too, Lucien ,” I replied with a slightly trembling voice.

           LaChance opened the door and bowed his head as I left through it, putting the cowl back on and pulling the handle of the bag over my shoulder. I turned around for one last exchange of smiles, without a further word, and exited the apartment building.

           The streets were still crowded, but since the vendors were closed there was less resistance in the straight path from Sisters of the Sands to the Mages Guildhall— I just had to be extra mindful of my steps because of all the garbage and pools of drunkard heaves on the ground. As unpleasant as it was, I would take waste hazard maze over the uncomfortable situation that awaited me at the guildhall. Even if he had declared that he had no authority over me, arousing Farwil’s anger could have terrible consequences for everyone else.

           The tension inside cooled when it seemed like everyone had retired to their respective sleeping quarters and were well into their sleep. But, no more than a few seconds after ease washed over me, I heard a voice growl from the black shadows of the wide hallway: “Where the hell have you been??”

End of Part XIII

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 35

Here we go, Chapter 35!  Any mistakes are purely my own - Due to an absolute ton going on, @parisconstantine had way more important things to worry about than proof-reading this chapter.

Please send positive energy her way, and I hope she enjoys this chapter (even though Tyche isn’t in it very much).

Trigger warnings below the line for severe depression.  For anyone reading who is lucky enough not to live with this level of depression, this is what it feels/looks like from the inside.  And, while Sophia’s reaction is pretty atypical for being pulled out of a spiral, this is actually something my best friend did to me once to pull me out.  So, yes, this is a very real reaction.

In the days following the trial, everything changed.   Just walking through the corridors of the ship back to the medical bay had been agonizing; Tyche was jumpy and suspicious to a nearly feral degree, Conor tried to put himself between me and anyone who came within arm’s reach.  Not that there was any concern about that – the air held a tense feeling of suspicion.  The normally jovial and social people I saw every day were instead huddled closely in pairs and small groups, speaking in whispers or hushed tones.  I didn’t have to imagine what they were thinking about, since it was haunting my mind as well. Who else on board could be a Baconist? What if they weren’t all discovered?

Adding to the oppressive atmosphere was the unmistakable fact that Noah was everywhere.  Prior to the sabotage of the ship, they had placed most of their bodies in suspension – a sort of hibernation to conserve space and resources – and allowed humans to fill as many roles as we could teach ourselves. Now, however, I couldn’t turn my head without seeing lumbering bodies traversing the corridor.

“Noah,” I asked aloud. “Did you bring all your bodies out of suspension?”

“Yes, Wisdom.” I turned to see the one I originally thought of as ‘Noah’ approaching from behind. It gestured at its body with one small-hand. “I know you prefer to speak to this particular part of me,” it explained to my unvoiced surprise.

Tyche shook her head. “I still don’t know how you can tell,” she muttered.

“I – “ I started to answer the question, before realizing something. “I don’t know if it would be considered rude to explain how I can tell,” I admitted, glancing at Noah.

“Smooth path, Wisdom,” was the only response I received.  While it probably seemed cryptic to anyone else, the phrase came from a series of very badly written novels I had enjoyed immensely back on Earth. He was telling me it was okay to explain, essentially.

“This body has a crooked finger on the right small-hand,” I gestured. “And one of the sensory spots is different – it isn’t shiny like the rest.”

To my amusement – and Tyche and Conor’s astonishment – Noah used the finger I mentioned to actually point at the sensory spot in question. “Very astute,” it buzzed. “The finger did not harden as quickly as the others as this body matured, and that particular sensory spot is damaged.”

“It’s barely crooked,” my sister whisper-shouted at me. “Barely. How the actual – “

I held up my hands defensively. “I notice that kind of stuff, okay? Now, can we please continue walking toward the medbay so I don’t have to be carried the rest of the way?”

“You could use a transport,” Miys complained as we resumed our journey. “I will never understand why injured humans persist in moving under their own power when they are injured.”

Before I could respond, Conor patted the massive alien’s lower right arm. “It’s the first act of independence in most of our lives, mate.  As long as we can walk, we generally insist on it. It’s a human thing.”

“Idiots,” was the honked response. “But yes, to answer your question, I did bring all of my bodies out of suspension, including the ones that were suspended before I arrived on Earth.”

“Why?” Tyche asked, confused.

“Largely, to manufacture the replacement sensors, and to install them. Secondly, to help keep peace on the Yjq. The general population of the ship is very suspicious, and you seem to like rioting in such times.” The last was stated in such a calm tone that it may as well have been speaking about the weather.

A thought occurred to me, and I didn’t like it one bit. “Are you certain that all of the Baconists have been found?” I asked, trying to keep a neutral tone.

“Yes,” came the response, although it sounded awfully cagey.

Did you read everyone’s thoughts to make sure? I subvocalized angrily.

“Yes, Wisdom.” If a twelve-foot-tall mushroom with no vocal chords could sound ashamed, that is exactly the tone Noah had.  My sister and Conor looked perplexed at the answer to my unvoiced question.

“Here’s a tip, Miys. Read 1984 and think about how humans may perceive what you’re doing,” I spat. “I’m going to bed. You stay here.” Without looking to see if it listened, or if my sister and Conor were still following me, I stalked back to the medbay. Thankfully, I arrived safely: I didn’t remember the journey.  

I had been assured that an audio-only recording of the trials would be made available for the general population of the Ark, but not for several more days to allow time to complete them.  Due to my still-healing injuries, I was exempted from attending the other trials – Simon would sit in my place, as my predecessor. There was a vague part of me that was glad.  After all, while I refused to look at the list of accused, I had not missed the faces that were not present while I was walking to and from the Council Chamber.  I should have walked twice past the lady who kindly made by favorite boudin, but where her cooking area normally was located, nothing remained but an empty alcove and the smell of disinfectant.  The passing crowds had studiously avoided an area that had, only two weeks ago, been notorious for blocking foot traffic as people crowded in for hot, sizzling morsels.  In addition, Eino’s assistant had been someone I was unfamiliar with, and two different living quarters that had previously been occupied were vacant. Ghosts, I thought miserably.

I insisted on being left alone to handle the knowledge that Arantxa had never been my friend, had used me and my family.  I couldn’t bear to look into my sister’s face, knowing what danger she had been in.  Even Conor left me alone, although I could hear him outside my door, his newfound protective urges leading him to enforce my self-selected solitude.

Within thirty hours, a standard ship’s day, Arantxa and all her known conspirators were sentenced and summarily executed.  I refused to ask, wonder out loud, or even let anyone tell me how it had been carried out.  I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone, even via data screen or intercoms, leading to Tyche forcing her way into my room. But, even when my sister and Antoine spent hours in my medical bay staring at me and exchanging concerned looks, it was all I could to just to keep from screaming uncontrollably.  At night, I was haunted by fragmented nightmares and an accented voice taunting me.  

“Humanity is a plague…”

“…can we not just die properly!?”

“Ridiculous woman just adopts people….”

The analytical side of me understood the logic behind the… sentences. To protect Derek from any charges, the Council had decided to try Arantxa under Galactic Law, and when they decided that, execution was immediately on the table.  There weren’t facilities on the ship where we could safely imprison the group, and it wasn’t safe to let them interact with other people on the ship.  Even if we had the facilities, we still had an estimated nine years before we reached our new home.  Where would we keep them once we arrived?  The only way to address the danger they posed was to get rid of it, entirely.

The human side of me was not mollified in the slightest by the logical arguments.

Each time Miys came to check on my status, I shut out the buzzing concern at how much weight I’d lost, how haggard I was looking. My eyes shut tightly, I just turned my head toward the wall and focused on thinking about nothing. If I didn’t think, I didn’t have to acknowledge that all of this was more than a terrible dream.  Maybe, eventually, I would wake up.  When I got desperate for distraction, I would sing song lyrics in my head – the most annoying, catchy tunes I could think of, as loudly as possible.

After weeks, Simon came by in person. Still, I refused to speak to him or subvocalize responses to Noah, and by this point, I had been placed on intravenous feeding and restrained to prevent pulling the tube out. At night, Noah would sedate me to quiet the nightmares. “Sophia,” he sighed as he sat in my sister’s chair by my bedside. “This isn’t you, and I know it.”

I just stared at the ceiling, trying to recall each and every tillandsia in my quarters.  Tyche already told me they were being cared for by either herself or Conor.  I imagined how happy the little plants were.  Raindrops are falling on my head…and just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed….

He just puffed indignantly at my lack of response. “You know, Miys offered to come in here with me and tell me what you were thinking about.  I felt that wouldn’t be fair, so I asked them to let me try this solo.” I heard him take a deep breath. “I know you feel betrayed. I feel the same way, though probably not to the degree you do.  She was my assistant, at one point, you know.”

I felt a quirk of interest at that bit of information, immediately trying to squash it back down.  Nope, no real world, thank you. Nothing seems to fit…those raindrops –

“Some of the things they did, I know she learned from me,” he continued blithely. “After all, you took my place on the Council.  But there were things she knew, systems she was familiar with, that you had no reason to be aware of.  The layout of the ship, for starters – at first, I was the one responsible for giving ships tours to all the new arrivals, until we reached about five thousand people on board, I believe.  Every time I walk through the corridors, I want to vomit.  I was the one to tell her about the sensors, too.  She asked me one day how I was able to know where everyone was most recently, and I was all too excited to show her how the corridor sensors track our data bands….”

Why was he telling me all this?

“I think we all try to take the blame onto ourselves,” he sighed. “If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have been able to keep you in the dark for so long. You’re too keen for that; Clarity. Conor feels like he should have noticed something, but his Amity clouded his Perception, and that’s one of the best parts of humanity, even if he doesn’t realize it: our desire to see the best in people rather than the worst.  Tyche wants to heal you through sheer force of her Will, and by God if anyone could do it, she could.” He chuckled before sobering. “But I think what we all seem to be missing is what makes humanity so unique.  I mean, sure, we can see, but we’re also individuals.  Each and every one of us is a completely different person, with our own minds, and our experiences.  Somehow, we manage to work together, even to understand invisible queues from each other that enable us to throw and catch, work silently together, act in tandem.

“But that’s just our subconscious minds – our lizard brains – reading miniscule clues from each other.  Some people, like Xiomara, are like predators and can see just enough to work in a unit but not enough to avoid stepping on people’s toes or rubbing them the wrong way. Others, like you and your sister, are more like prey animals and can read queues from an entire room without realizing it.  But, no matter how well we can read those queues, understand each other without words, we are still separate people.  We still have our own unique passions and tastes, and process information differently enough to have stimulating conversation and reach a multitude of discoveries faster than a single person could.  It’s absolutely fascinating.”

Would you just get to the point and let me go back to sleep? I thought grouchily.

His neck popped as his head whipped to face me.  To my horror, I realized I had subvocalized that thought and that Noah likely relayed it to him. “My point, Sophia, is that we are not a hive-minded species like the Hujylsogox is. Which means Arantxa Bidarte was her own person, and the only person responsible for her actions is her.  None of us could have prevented it, and I know you’re aware of that because you told Conor as much the day before her trial.  Take the time you need, but you don’t get to lay down and die.  You survived a ten-year apocalypse, and I watched you come back from someone’s determined craving for rare roast-beast.  There is no way the Sophia Reid I know would let a ghost kick her ass.

“After all,” he smiled smugly. “I didn’t.” With that, he stood and left the room.

For the first time in weeks, I took a voluntary drink of water in an effort to wet the dry and sore tissues in my mouth.  I thought about what Simon said, about reading the room, and hive minds. His last comment stuck out in my mind – even knowing the intention was to antagonize me, he was right.  She had been his administrator as well, and he was dealing with a lot of the same guilt I was.  But Simon had been able to walk down here from his cave, bathed and fed, and speak to me.  Was I really going to let the memory of someone who betrayed me push me into a death-spiral of depression?  I hadn’t even let the memories of beloved people that I longed to join do that. Why did she deserve the privilege?

“Fuck,” I muttered emphatically.

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[eternityunicorn]

Elijah’s Eternity: New Orleans - Part One

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Adventure/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violence, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Sequel to the AU Elijah’s Eternity - Ten years have passed, a mournful Elijah has finally started to move on without his lady. In that time, he has gained a reunited family and has also found a new lady love. Yet, all is not well as danger comes for the smallest member of the Mikaelson family: Hope, and it prompts Niklaus to call upon the white goddess, drawing her back into Elijah’s life. As they reunite, can Elijah really say he’s truly moved on?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

———————————————————————————————————

Ten years.

Ten long and agonizing years.

That was how long it had been since that devastating day when Eternity had left Elijah, assumingely forever. It was the day that would be burned into his very soul for the rest of his immortal life. Forever altered was he, but that was the price he had to pay for daring to love an immortal goddess queen.

“Not a god,” he could hear her voice echo in his mind, every time he referred to her as a goddess.  It made him smile, but it was always short lived. The pain of loss quickly took hold always.

For a decade, Elijah suffered through his heartbreak, which seemed ridiculous to most that he would feel so profoundly over a relationship that had only lasted a little over a month, maybe more, maybe less. He didn’t know. It wasn’t like he had been counting the days he had been with Eternity like some love struck high schooler might. Still, it may have been silly to be so torn up over a budding romance, but it had been so much more to him.

After leaving Los Angeles, California those ten years ago, Elijah drove the sporty mustang he had acquired aimlessly back toward the east coast. Along the way, he had stopped in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to the Mitchells’ bed and breakfast.

He had gone to inform them that he and Eternity would not be returning as promised and that he was heading back the way he had come. However, the old couple recognized heartbreak and requested that he stayed with them for a little while. He wanted to deny them, not wanting to be in a place that held the ghost of Eternity’s memory. Yet, he couldn’t find the will to say no to them, they were simply too kind. So, Elijah stayed...for two years.

To take his mind off his loss, he kept busy and helped the couple run their bed and breakfast, something that he would have done forever. He did his best to avoid the rookie in which he had stayed in with Eternity, instead choosing to help out with maintaining the property as much as possible. It had been a good two years, despite the circumstances. 

Unfortunately, the healths of the old humans deteriorated quickly in those few years. Eventually, Elijah was not only running their business, but paying for their medical bills too as they both found themselves in and out of the hospital. Their little frail bodies had simply begun to give out, as mortal bodies do.

Mr. Mitchell was the first to pass, which had devastated Mrs. Mitchell. Some believe that one can die of a broken heart and Elijah was inclined to believe that too. Only months later did Mrs. Mitchell die, passing in her sleep one night for him to find the following morning. 

Elijah couldn’t help but to be angry at Eternity for their passings, at the time. She could have saved them from death, he had irrationally thought, knowing logically that she could do no such thing. Mortals were meant to grow old and die. This was part of nature’s balance. Even if she had been around, she wouldn’t have saved them from naturally caused death. Still did he blamed Eternity for the loss of the kind elders.

Speaking of Eternity, at each small funeral service which had taken outside in the local cemetery, of which he had paid for since the Mitchells didn’t have any close family, not even children or grandchildren, he swore that he had seen the shimmering grace of the unicorn out of his peripheral. Yet, when he looked in hope of seeing her, he found the field empty. There wasn’t any visible sign that she had been there at all, much to his disappointment.

After that, Elijah wanted to keep the bed and breakfast open, but couldn’t stay. It had been time to move on. So to keep the Mitchells’ place going, he compelled a young local couple to take over the business. Once that was done, he left Oklahoma and continued east.

It was about half way back that Elijah encountered Niklaus again. He had stopped at a local pub for a drink and to hunt for prey. Without Eternity, he was forced to feed upon humans. It was after he had feed upon a couple of young women using the catch and release method, that Niklaus had slinked up beside him from the shadows.

“Brother, you look like hell,” his little brother had said.

“I wonder why,” he had quipped back, in no mood to deal with his brother.

Eternity wasn’t the only one who bore thee brunt of Elijah’s blame. In fact, there was one that received more of it than her; Niklaus. If his brother had acted in someone’s interest rather than his own, he would have broke ties with Loki or at least, distracted him and Eternity wouldn’t have felt so afraid for him that she thought it best that she left.

Elijah had told his brother as much and Niklaus had enough sense to look apologetic.

“I tried to warn you,” his little brother had responded. “I told you that she would leave you as she has done others. Though if it makes you feel any better, I saw her not long ago and she looks as bad off as you, brother. It seems the dramatic listlessness is mutual.”

His brother’s encounter with Eternity had surprised Elijah. Niklaus had explained that she had come to inform him that his alliance with Loki had been abolished by the Trickster’s death. Eternity had finally killed her long time nemesis. 

He had felt relieved as even a little proud that she had finally freed herself. Yet, like with any positive thought regarding the lady, it was short lived and bitterness quickly took hold of Elijah. If she had freed herself from Loki, then why hadn’t she returned to him? Surely, if she loved him as she had claimed, then she would have come back to him. Yet, she had not, for whatever reasons.

Elijah told Niklaus to never speak about Eternity again in a hostile and threatening manner, before returning to the drink he had been nursing.

It was then that his little brother had informed him of one other thing. “It’s no matter,” Niklaus had said about his broken alliance with the Trickster, “as I have found another way to break the binding spell upon me. I have found a new Petrova doppelgänger. An Elena Gilbert located in our home town of Mystic Falls. I’m heading back there to meet her.”

That had caught Elijah’s attention immediately. “And you want me to aid you in this endeavor,” he had said knowingly.

That devious grin stretched across the hybrid’s face, “Yes, brother, I do. Though I hope you have enough sense to not fall in love with this one as you did with Tatia and Katerina. It only complicates things more than need be”

“I have forsaken love, so you don’t have to worry about that, Niklaus,” Elijah had bitterly replied, “but if you think I will aide you in any way, after the part you played in Eternity’s departure, you are sadly mistaken. In fact, you’d best hope that I don’t get to this Elena Gilbert before you do. You’ll never break your curse, I’ll make sure of it.”

Without letting his brother say another word, he used his vampire speed and sped away from the pub. All the while, a plan to steal the thing that Niklaus wanted most and to kill his little brother had formulated in Elijah’s mind. 

Well, from there, he returned to Mystic Falls, met the lovely Elena, and in the end, did not stopping his brother from breaking the binding spell that suppressed his werewolf side. Instead, there was an eventual reconciliation between brothers, but not before Elijah had freed his siblings from Niklaus’s grasp and exacted a little vengeance upon his little brother for all the wrongs he had committed against their family.

From that point of unity between all the Mikaelsons, the journey of the family lead them all to New Orleans. The reason? It had been discovered that Niklaus was the only fertile Original vampire and had knocked up a young werewolf girl named Hayley Marshall while still in Mystic Falls.

Elijah had been the first to encounter the pregnant werewolf, to see if it were true; that a new Mikaelson would eventually be born. It was a miracle that seemed too good to be true this glimmer of hope for a dysfunctional family of vampires and witches. 

The connection between himself and Hayley had been as immediate as it had been with Eternity. Though he had sworn to forsake love, Elijah had experienced the feeling twice after the goddess’s departure. The first had been in the form a rekindling romance with Katerina that ended when he decided to follow his little brother to New Orleans. The other had been with Hayley.

With Hayley, he had danced around her and she around him, neither quite willing to act upon their mutual attraction, even after the child had been born. Elijah had tried to resist out of respect for Niklaus until he realized that his brother had no interest in marrying Hayley...at least at that time. 

In the end, the two of them did end up together, but only for a time. It turned out that their relationship had been doomed from the start as Hayley’s feelings were based off the suave noble stag that had looked out for her when she was scared and alone, and not for the more complicated and darker man beneath. In a sense, he had ended up scaring her off once she saw the monster behind the red door.

It was after their romance had ended as friends that Hayley had realized her feelings for the father of her child had grown in affection and that the feeling had been mutual. The two of them had decided to marry after all and were now living in martial bliss with their young daughter Hope Mikaelson.

A few years after the end of Elijah’s relationship with Hayley, he found...affection with yet another woman, a baby vampire by the name of Gia. She was beautiful and accomplished in the violin. Music was one of his favorite things, being accomplished in the piano himself. It had started as a pupil and teacher relationship after she had turned and found she couldn’t play her violin anymore. He was always one to fix what was broken, his united family being an example.

They relationship only grew from there and now, after ten years without Eternity, Elijah was about to be married to Gia. There was only one problem; he couldn’t exactly say he was happy. Though he did care for Katerina, Hayley, and now Gia, maybe even loved them, it was hollow, as if his heart hadn’t been completely with his two former lovers or the current one. Elijah realized the hole left by Eternity hadn’t been healed in the least and all these other relationships had been an attempt to fill the void.

When he had realized this, he had acted in frustration and desperation to move on immediately and made the impulsive decision to ask Gia to marry him. She had accepted readily, despite knowing upfront that he was hung up in some other woman. He never told her the full story, only that there had been someone extraordinary that had walked into his life and then quickly exited it. He never told Gia who Eternity was, keeping her a secret from both his new lady and his family, save for Niklaus. 

Regardless, Elijah had a new woman that he planned on settling down with, a completed, thriving family, and a young niece of whom he adored. Though he still suffers a bit from the loss of Eternity, he could at least say that he was content or at least, as contented as he was going to be considering his frozen, longing heart.

Over the years, there had been plenty of enemies come to call, triumphs and tragedies, but none were as dangerous and uncertain as the threat that was currently coming for the Mikaelsons or rather one of them - Hope.

The spirit of the most powerful witch ever to exist called the Hollow was searching for more power and a new corporal form. It had chosen to zero in on young Hope, a tribred with great power. A perfect target for the Hollow. The threat was imminent and it seemed that the most powerful vampire and witch family was not enough to stop it. 

Currently, the Hollow was in possession of little Hope and her family was desperate to find a way to free her free her from it’s clutches. They were all afraid and desperate for a solution to defeat this impossible enemy. Yet, there didn’t seem to be one in sight. It seemed absolutely hopeless.

“What are we going to do?” Rebekah asked as the family gathered for a family meeting over this matter. “What can we do? There has to be something or someone that can help.”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Kol replied realistically. “The Hollow is the most powerful entity to ever exist. Nothing is powerful enough to destroy it.”

“Well, we can’t just let it have my daughter,” Hayley protested. “We have to do something. There just has to be a way to save Hope from this...thing.”

Back and forth, they went, trying to think of anything that they hadn’t already that might help the child. Elijah remained quiet, his attention was on Niklaus.

His brother, whom had been strangely silent during this exchange finally perked up with a determined look upon his face that only meant one thing; he had a plan. Elijah had a feeling he knew exactly what it was too, having considered it himself before dismissing it.

“Don’t worry, wifey, I won’t let anything happen to our daughter,” Niklaus said to Hayley. Then he turned to Kol, “You’re wrong, little brother. The Hollow may be the most powerful entity on this world, but it is not the most powerful in existence. That honor belongs to another.” His eyes shifted to Elijah and all other eyes followed until everyone was looking at between the two siblings with confused, curious looks.

Elijah felt his heart leap into his throat at the vague mentioning of Eternity. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Could he? Did Niklaus know how to summon her? How did he know? Perhaps Loki had told him? It seemed like a likely conclusion.

Still, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the woman who abandoned him. He swallowed thickly as he spoke his brother’s name in warning. A jumble of emotions courses through him, so messy were they that he couldn’t make one a single one thing he felt at the moment. He couldn’t formulate more words to follow.

“Desperate times calls for desperate measures,” Niklaus said as he approached. “Elijah, I need her help. Hope needs her help. And I will not let you or your hang ups stand in my way of saving my daughter. I will do what I must, regardless of your past with her.”

After a short pause, Elijah nodded in acceptance, unable to do much else. Though he was still very unsure about the whole thing. “Do what you must,” he said to his determined sibling.

“Would someone like to tell us what the bloody hell is going on?” Rebekah called, but it feel upon deaf ears as both Niklaus and he were already gone from the room.

To Be Continued....

[teamoliv-archive]

Cutscene: For the Ones We Love

How long had Molly been running? Time sped up and slowed down around her as she stumbled through the flames of the ruined district. It took forever to find a clearing that was decently clean. It looked like everything here had already burned. When had she come back to her senses? It was hard to tell what had happened over however much time she had spent trying to get away.

A flash of light caught her attention. “I don’t have time for this!” She shouted instinctively. It was some spherical drone that beeped and flashed at her. The intervals were hard to pin down. She still didn’t know how to fix her warped senses. She heard the sped up and then slowed down sqeak of more wheels as more of these things rolled up around her.

She was surrounded!? What were these things? They started to flash and make noise randomly, a practice made even more disorienting by her sense of time constantly shifting.

Just slow it down... slow it down...

The world around her slowed to a crawl. Molly had to turn her head away from some lights that shone too brightly. Then she felt the very slow impact of something smacking her in the back of the head.

“Gotcha.”

“Molly!” Ivory shouted into the raging din around her. She picked up Oroboros by its massive handle, hoisting her partner’s massive death wheel onto one shoulder. She was much taller than Molly so it neatly slung over her shoulder and hung down above her knee. She rushed into the direction that she thought Molly was going.

A beep caught her attention.

Another of those weird wheeled ball robots. The ones belonging to Lilac Cheshire. She was about to bring her ax down on the annoying thing when it flashed a screen in front of her. It was Molly.

She was stuck somewhere with a worrying number of tubes and needles stuck into her. Nearby was the triumphantly smirking face of Onyx’s sister- no, Cassandra Cheshire’s daughter.

“I’m not playing nice here, bitch.” She started with a venomous tone, “That’s a dust-infuser I’ve strapped your little friend to. You, your crazy master, and a whole bunch of other people are going to die for what you did to my family. Follow that drone to where it leads you and maybe I won’t turn this machine on. Do you know what happens when you inject dust right into a person’s body? It’s strong sure, but it’s agonizing. I happen to have enough to freeze, burn, and shock this kid from the inside out all at the same time.”

The drone starts wheeling away at a surprising speed.

“You have ten minutes!” It shouts on a loudspeaker.

“No....” Ivory felt nothing but guilt seeing Molly the way she was. They had to be somewhere nearby to be able to transmit that message. It didn’t look prerecorded. Lilac looked right at her. She was the one who killed Tyrael’s wife, ruined Molly’s plans to go to Beacon for Jade while she went to Atlas.

No, I went to Atlas for Jade. Molly wanted to go for herself...

She didn’t have a choice. She had to follow.

She planted a speed target on to the ground and started a sprint. With the sound of a shatter, she darted ahead of the drone for a while, following the only logical path she could take, lugging Molly’s massive weapon with her.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming!”

The drone sped up to match her speed, leading her to a building that was suspiciously unburnt. She slams her ax into the door, not bothering to try and opening it the right way. It busted off at one of its rusty hinges and swung open at an awkward angle. Inside, there they were.

Lilac gave a death glare at Ivory. Molly hung from the harness she was strapped to from some kind of hook in a half-conscious state. “We knew you did it,” She spat, “We knew from the start but your master managed to convince Dad not to make you wish we’d killed you.”

“I’m fixing that. Then I’m making sure Leroux is dead, too.” She was wearing a similar harness to the one that Molly had been attached to, but with some added things to it. It looked attached to her coat. A flash of hard light appeared in front of Lilac’s eyes as the tubes on her coat began flaring up with various colors. The blood vessels in her skin started to glow and her hair flashed with arcing power as the dust started to take effect. A jolt of pain was soothed by the anesthetic.

Molly’s harness started to glow and she started to convulse and scream in agony, jolting back awake but blind to the world around her.

“I made this specifically to kill you! You try to escape and your friend explodes do you understand me!?”

Ivory didn’t have time to think about all the factors involved in why this was happening. That was probably going to come crashing into her once the adrenaline wore off. She dropped Molly’s weapon and readies her ax. Those drones were still here, too and nothing was stopping that crazy harness from killing Molly anyway if it looked like Lilac wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. She could have just blown them all up, but this was a woman driven by revenge. She wanted the satisfaction of spilling Ivory’s blood herself.

She readied her weapon by pointing the blade straight in front of her and pulling the trigger on Isengrim’s barrel, rocketing her forward. The blade stops just short of Lilac, catching on a wall of rock that flashes in front of her.

Lilac walks around the jagged barrier watching Ivory try in vain to yank her weapon free. “You’re strong. I know that. But you’re so reliant on that thing.” She reaches out and grabs her arm and it starts to ice over.

Ivory felt a horrible chill come up her arm. Lilac was going to try and take her apart piece by piece if possible. She kicks at the woman, still holding her gun with her free arm. Slamming her finger against the trigger, the ax blade crushes its way through the earth dust and breaks it into pieces. The impact frees her arm and she immediately uses the recoil to put some distance between them. Her left arm was numb and frozen. That was going to make blocking difficult.

She twirls the ax to try and block a sudden barrage of fireballs that shot out of something on Lilac’s wrist. Of course the coat would be using the dust, too. She looks to the walls where the drones were driving up various surfaces. Since when could they do that? She plants a target on the ground and shoots herself into the air by kicking at it.

Lilac walked her shots, switching up the elements seemingly at random. Ivory had taken to the air and this made it harder for her to dodge, even if she used her gun to bounce off the recoil. She could only go in a straight line. Where was she even shooting for anyway?

A series of vanished blips on the screen in front of her revealed it. She was shooting out the drones. Clever, but it wasn’t going to do a lot. Taking a few steps forward, Lilac started to create a rising ramp of ice, rushing up it while electricity flared in her arms.

She flung her arm in a huge arc, sending a whip of lighting across the room, taking out a few of her own drones in the process. She could always make more. Besides, that wasn’t the issue- they were packed with explosives anyway. “Did you forget how I started these fires in the first place!?”

The shock of the explosions launched Ivory across the room, landing in an inglorious series of crunching bounces against the hard ground. She felt a spark of her aura give out and her weapon slide to the ground. This was bad.

Slowly forcing herself to her feet, she saw Lilac close in with a heavy fist enveloped in a black energy. She rolled away as fast as she could, but the surrounding objects and herself were dragged back toward her fist on impact. This included a few more of those exploding drones that launched themselves off of the ceiling.

“Face it you heartless tool!” Lilac said with an excited tone. “Everything you’ve ever done, everything you’ve ruined for your precious master, trying to destroy the house that took you in, it’s all going up in smoke. I bet you’re only saving your partner here because he wants you to. You’ve never cared about anything! Now you’re going to die here the same way you took my mother away from me!”

If those got too close she was dead. She watched as Molly’s weapon slid forward in the well of gravity. Reaching out, she grabbed it and squeezed the handle to flare the saw to life.

Swinging the blade forward, she only manage to clip a few of Lilac’s dust tubes, the rubber hoses on her coat spraying powder and thick liquid over her. The broad arc knocked the falling bombs away. The explosions detonated and sent them both flying. They were injured, but not dead.

“This isn’t about Jade...” Ivory says, struggling to her feet. “This isn’t even about your family. This is about you and me, and I will not let you drag Molly into this!” She swung around and tossed the still buzzing saw toward where Molly was struggling with the harness. When it collides with the hook and severs the connections, she falls and collapses to the ground. The device lay in tatters as her partner- no, the closest thing to a sister she’s ever had, whimper on the ground, barely hanging on. 

She notices Isengrim on the ground nearby. It must have come with Lilac since her hand was still flush with gravity dust during the explosion. She picks up her weapon and readies herself. She was out of aura and had restricted options, but Molly was free at least. “Get back up. We’re not done.”

“You’re right... We’re not.” Lilac struggles her feet as well. Her screen had cracked in the impact. She didn’t know where her drones were or what her aura levels were at or what toll the dust was going to take on it or her body. No, that didn’t matter. She was still in better shape than her.

Molly whimpered as she struggled to keep her eyes open through the blinding pain. Was that her weapon!? When did it get here? When did Ivory get here!? What was going on!? She could at least see the world right again. “I-Ivory!” She shouted in a hoarse voice. “She was planning this from the beginning...”

“I know.” Ivory responds quietly, “You’re hurt, Molly. You need to get out of here while you can. It’s me she wants.”

“No... No, don’t try to fight her by yourself! I can’t leave without you! I can’t be alone again!”

“If you stay she’ll only kill us both! I promise, I’m not leaving you, Molly. We don’t have any backup. You have to get out of here while you have a chance of living!”

“What’s the matter?” Lilac says interrupting them, “Afraid you’ll lose something precious? Well then I think I know where to start!” Dust flares up in the woman again, power spraying wildly from the broken tubes as she charges forward.

“NO!” Ivory steps in the way and takes the blow with the flat of her ax, sliding back. Her arms ached from the impact. “You can tear me limb from limb, you can go after Jade all you want, you can tell me my entire life is a heartless sham, but I will not let you hurt my sister!”

“Ivory... I...” Molly knew she and Ivory were close. They weren’t blood, but that didn’t really matter, did it? No, she wasn’t going to let her die, but it took all her strength just to stand. Oroboros felt heavy in her arms as she lifted the heavy weapon. Slowly she heard the infernal roar of its engine. Stepping onto the pedal she she heard the blade scraping against the floor. Making a bank, she drove past Lilac and heading to the exit.

“Don’t you dare die, Ivory! I am not losing my family again! All I need is time! I’ll be back, I promise!”

Ivory stepped in between Lilac and Molly, swinging her ax at another shot and splitting it in half. “I said, this is between you and me Lilac Cheshire! If you want at her, you’re going through me!”

“Gladly. Now where were we?”

[voyages-extraordinaires]

C:R ~VE~ Chapter 10

“You--? Why are you here?!”

Finis’ voice rings loud from the hall.

I sit up in my bed and look around. The lone window shows that the sun is beginning to set, casting a lavender hue over the beach.

I must have needed the rest more than I had thought. My mind feels clearer, though, and my confidence bolstered. I need to have faith in myself and in science. Yes… Nemo and I are both scientists. Surely, my love for science will overpower any foolish need of mine to confess my feelings. My goal must-- no, my goal WILL come first. I will sail under the sea, I will cross the Atlantic by submarine!

And then the door bursts open.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONSOIR MON AMI!”

I can’t stop myself from laughing as Nemo bounds in and stretches out his arms, striking a pose nothing short of triumphant… and ridiculous.

Behind him is Finis, silent and dour.

“Aronnax…” he looks right at me. “You have disobeyed me…”

Instead of looking like a bratty child, Finis actually looked rather frightening. I remember Cardia’s story, and all the things this boy is capable of doing.

“WROOOOOOOOOOOOONG!” Nemo swoops in to my rescue, pointing at Finis dramatically. “Polly-chan has been confined to her room under myyyyyyyyy orders! She has a strict prescription of bed rest, and the ooooooooonly way I could allow her to attend teatime is if her doctor was also in attendance!”

Finis’ face grew even darker as his lips pursed in annoyance. “Teatime…? You let this buffoon turn our meeting into teatime?”

Nemo once again comes to my defense. “Aaaaaactually, the architect of this event is the Homuncardia-chan!”

He pauses, then wrinkles his nose as if deep in contemplation.

“Cardia-chan!” he repeats.

“Sister...?” Finis slowly turns his head, looking over his shoulder. “Is that true...?”

“Yes,” Cardia walks in with a warm smile. “It’s all set up now. I had Impey help, so it really will feel like a party.”

“Him too.....?!” If Finis’ glare gets any sharper, I’m afraid we’ll all start bleeding.

Cardia shakes her head. “I thought it would be best if he continued to work on the submarine design, as... uh...” She looks to the side, as though she can’t say these words with a single hint of seriousness while looking at us. “He was ‘threatened under pain of a most agonizing death’.”

A pair of glinting goggles and a low "fwee hee hee” reveals exactly who made that threat.

This makes Finis’ posture relax, and he even smirks. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped if it was Sister... still, Nemo.”

Finis stares coldly at the taller man.

“I had excluded you from this for your own sake. When you cry in pain, thank me for my generosity.”

Before Nemo can give another grandiose statement, I reach over and take his hand in mine. He looks at me with a confused “Mrrph?” and I smile before looking back at Finis.

“Nemo and I are partners,” I state as flatly as I can, despite my heart screaming. “If you wish to discuss this voyage with me, then he needs to be there, too.”

“Partners?!” Finis mouth stretches into a smile. “Oh, you poor thing! Maybe this will be more fun than I had anticipated...” with a sweep of his cape, Finis turns and departs.

As Cardia watches him leave, she hears him say: “Did you bring plenty of sugar, sister?”

She just sighs. “What do you think?”

Judging from the smile creeping on her face, Finis must have shot her a dirty look.

Cardia looks over at the two of us before walking over.

“Nemo?” her voice is quiet.

Nemo responds with another confused “Mrrph???”

“Thank you!”

Her smile is so sweet, and the roses of her cheeks are blossoming.

“H-huh?” Nemo looks around before pointing to himself with a confused expression.

“For saying my name,” Cardia continues. “You said it once before, back in the prison. I wasn’t certain then, but... now I am. You thought about it, and you meant to say my name.”

Her smile is so dazzling that I can feel my cheeks flushing again. At this rate, I’ll be given mandatory bed rest again.

But it’s okay, because Nemo’s blushing too.

“It’s....” he trails off before striking another pose (almost ripping my arm out of its socket, why didn’t he let go of my hand--?!). When he speaks next, his voice is strange, almost like a salesman’s. I don’t understand it.

“It’s the job of a scientist to observe new evidence and edit hypotheses in the search for truth!”

And, just like that, it’s back to its normal, booming self.

“An artificial life, yeeeees, but an individual nonetheless, soooo--!”

He triumphantly swings his free arm out. “The only logical conclusion would be to address you by the name that Isaaaaaac-sensei gave you: Car-di-a--chan!”

Nemo... he and Cardia have been through a lot together. I’m glad that he’s seeing her as more than a doll, more than a golem.

I think of giving his hand a squeeze in gratitude, but I think better of it. Cardia’s smile, Cardia’s beautiful smile is more than enough thanks.

“Well, I’m going to make sure my brother doesn’t eat all of the sweets. I’ll see you both there!”

Is it a coincidence that the sun finishes setting as she leaves our sight?

“Well...” I look around the dim room. “I had better get dressed. Can’t attend tea in my robe.”

“Fwee hee hee...”

That mischievous laugh of his again.

“Need some assistance, my friiiiiiiiiend~?”

This time it’s my turn to let out a confused noise. 

I had probably just misunderstood. I look up at him with a smile. “I’m fine, really. I...”

Why is he-- why is he smiling like that?

He gently puts his hand on my shoulder, tracing the shape with his thumb.

My mind begins to race as he tilts my chin up with a long index finger, drawing my eyes to his obscured ones.

“You’re still so flushed, I think I need to examiiiiiiiiiine you more closely...”

My eyes are wide. I can’t move. I want so badly to throw my arms around him, to wrap myself around him completely.

He looks over my face with an amused expression and leans towards me, his black-painted lips moving closer to mine. I can feel his breath on my skin, but it isn’t enough. I want to feel the hot metal of his teeth scrape my flesh, I want so much more--!

I part my lips and let out a longing sigh.

But then he stops.

He pulls back, pats me reassuringly on the shoulder, and gives me an ‘okay’ symbol.

“Mmm-hmm! Check up is green! You’re all set for teaaaaaaa!”

I’m standing there staring ahead blankly.

“Don’t keep us waiting, Polly-chaaaaan~!” Nemo gives a wave as he exits, letting the door close behind him with a resounding slam.

I realize that the ache in my body won’t be satisfied, so I quickly push such thoughts out of my head and begin to get dressed.

Yes, he was just worried about me. He just wanted to check, to see if I had cooled off. He just... went about it strangely, like he does sometimes. That’s all.

... He smelled like lavender, though.

Was it just my imagination?

-----

Nemo makes it about halfway down the hall before he slumps against one of the walls. A sound escapes his mouth, and he claps his hand over it to stop himself.

There are tears running down his cheeks, yes, but the sound that he’s muffling doesn’t match.

It’s laughter. Hysterical laughter, contained only by his own hand.

Now she knows! Now she knows a hint of that pain! That eternal, gnawing yearning for touch, for companionship--! This time, I was the one who took it away! Finally, I’m the one in control!

But his laughter dies down soon after those thoughts race through his mind. He removes his hand from his mouth to inhale air, and instead what comes out is a choked sob.

That expression on her face... such affection... for me! Nemo!

He reaches behind his goggles and rubs his eyes.

No one has looked at me like that since--

He finally collapses to his knees, his hair falling over his face like a funeral shroud.

“I’m sorry...” Nemo cries. “I’m so, so sorry...”

-----

I walk into Cardia’s room to find both her and Finis already seated next to each other. The two chairs across from them were likely meant for Nemo and I. 

Nemo must not have arrived yet.

“Professor, would you like some tea?”

Looking at her, I realize why Impey is so in love. I smile in response. “Pauline.”

Cardia blinks a few times. “Excuse me?”

“‘Aronnax’ sounds a bit too formal for the two of us, doesn’t it?”

“Then, Pauline... please have a seat and join us,” says Cardia.

I sit down across from them and take a sip from the cup in front of me.

“It’s nice... is this Barbicane’s blend?” I ask.

“No,” I’m surprised that it’s Finis that speaks. “It’s from Ceylon. It’s just like the teatime we had back then, isn’t it, sister?”

“Impey said this was the best tea they have here. There was only a little,” says Cardia.

“Of course,” says Finis. “It’s because he left it for us.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Your so-called mysterious benefactor,” says Finis.

As if waiting for his cue (he very well might have been, knowing him) Nemo bursts into the room.

“Nemo, there you are! I guess you got tied up at the warehouse,” I say.

Ignoring the clinking of shaking porcelain, he bounds over and sits down next to me before immediately downing a cup.

“Mmm~ this refined flavor...” he slams the cup down onto his saucer. “MAGNIFICEEEEEEEEEEEEENT!!”

His voice sounds a touch hoarse. Just a touch, I’m a little surprised I even noticed it.

Finis looks up from his own teacup, a bored expression on his face.

“What were the terms that Aleister laid out for you?” asks Finis.

“Aleister? Ohh, Jiiiiiimmmy A. Aleisteeeeeeeeeer, my comrade-in-arms!"

“Try not to play the fool for once,” say Finis. “I know that Aleister is the one funding your little ‘voyage’.”

“Professor Aleister... was on the Nautilus too, wasn’t he?” I ask.

“That’s right,” says Finis. “That professor who you think saved your dream is just as rotten as the scientist sitting next to you.”

I frown and open my mouth to protest, but I feel Nemo gently thump my leg with his, and I quiet down.

“Hmmm....” Nemo speaks slowly. “Mooooost of us here were on the Nautilus, soooo... that ‘rottenness’ you speak of has suuurely spread to you!” He takes a moment to grin at Finis. “But that’s neither here nor theeeere... what I want to know is, why would it matter whether it was Aleister that sponsored us?”

“You idiot...” Finis mutters under his breath. “Have you not thought about it at all? The cost of research, building materials, a private island--? What could Aleister hope to gain from it?”

I look at Nemo, and he rests his chin on his hands, closing his eyes. “The conditions were anonymity, Fiiiiiinis.”

“Aleister may have helped me, but that doesn’t mean that he’s a good man,” says Finis. “Like I said before: he’s rotten, as snake-like as that tacky stick he carries. Weren’t you the one who said that you have to protect London, where your so-called precious friends live?” He scoffs, irritated that he even has to explain himself.

Nemo tilts his head curiously. “This isn’t like you, Fiiiiiinis. Why the worry?”

Finis blushes and looks away, pouting sullenly.

“M-My...”

Nemo and I lean in closer to the table.

“My sister.........”

Finis glances at Cardia and scowls.

“It would be troublesome if something happened that made her cry.”

Cardia tries to lock eyes with her brother, but he turns away and crosses his arms.

I suck in my breath. If Aleister really is as wicked as they are saying, the new technology of a submarine powerful enough to cross the ocean would be terrifying in his hands.

It doesn’t look like Nemo is going to speak.

I have to make a choice...

I suck in my breath and say: “The conditions are that we have to give him the submarine after its maiden voyage. That... and anonymity.”

Nemo responds to my betrayal about as eloquently as imagined, shrieking loud enough to make the teacups rattle.

“He didn’t tell us why. I promise,” I finish. “He just said that it would ‘bring a new dawn to Steel London’.”

“W-W-W-W-W-WHAT ARE YOU DOOOIIIINNNGGGG, ARONNAAAAAAAAAX?!?!” Nemo is wailing beside me.

“Nemo...” I pull out my handkerchief and lean over to wipe his cheek, but he jerks away with such force that he falls off the chair. I bend over to offer to help him up, but he just flails like a beetle stuck on his back.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” says Finis. “Aleister knew that he would be found out.”

He pauses to drop some sugar cubes into his teacup. As he watches them begin to melt, he looks up at us through half-lidded eyes and lets a smile stretch over his lips.

“After all, why else would he have leaked your identity to Victoria... your highness?”

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

on the 7th day of 🎄, canyousevmyheavydirtysoul gave to you...

Mistletoe with Panic! at the Disco.

Spencer:

Parties weren’t really Spencer’s thing. He got annoyed enough at regular parties, where everyone would get drunk and make bad decisions, hook-up with random strangers, etc., but the one he was currently at wasn’t a regular party. It was a Christmas party. This meant that due to the copious amounts of mistletoe hung all over the place, there was more making out than usual. Great.

Making a disgusted face and swiftly dodging a tipsy couple who were so engrossed in the act that they almost fell on top of him, he shuddered and made his way to the bathroom in an effort to avoid mingling.

The bathroom was already occupied, but Spencer couldn’t tell since the door was unlocked, so he made his way inside.

“Oh,” he said in surprise upon seeing you sitting on the bathroom counter, legs dangling off the edge as you played a game on your phone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise someone was in here. Excuse me,” he apologised, gently bowing his head as he began to retreat.

“No,” you called out, “it’s my fault. I should’ve locked the door. I just didn’t think there was anyone else who wasn’t… preoccupied,” you chuckled, tucking your phone away.

Spencer chuckled too. “Don’t feel like mingling either, huh?” he nodded his head to gesture at you.

“Nah,” you confirmed, “my friend dragged me with but then left to make out with some guy. And I’m not about that life, so the bathroom seemed like the safest option. Looks like I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“You most definitely are not,” he smiled, before moving forward and extending a hand, “I’m Spencer.”

“(Y/N),” you smiled, shaking his hand.

Right at that moment, you heard the unmistakeable voice of your friend calling your name, and you shot Spencer an apologetic look.

“I have to go make sure she’s okay,” you said, hopping down and exiting the bathroom, “Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he nodded.

Once you had left to help your friend, Spencer realised that he should probably do the same and go and check on Brendon. He found him 15 minutes later, in the middle of the dance floor, drinking a red liquid from a clear cup.

“Spence!” he exclaimed happily, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Did you get lucky yet?”

“No,” Spencer sighed, “and I don’t plan on it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’re fun enough for the both of us.”

“True,” Brendon grinned, “But still. Live a little,” he shoved his friend back. Obviously, it was meant to be a light shove, but since Brendon was drunk, it came out harsher than intended.

Spencer bumped into someone, and they both turned to face each other.

“I’m so sorry… (Y/N). Hi.”

“Hi,” you lightly giggled.

“DUDE!” Brendon yelled, “LOOK UP!” You both did, eyes going wide. “MISTLETOE! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!”

Dallon:

“So did you find anything yet?” (Y/B/F) questioned, handing you a mug of hot chocolate.

You folded your fingers into a zero and clicked your tongue. “Nada.”

“Seriously? How hard can it be?”

You scoffed. “Very hard. As proven by me still not having found anything,” you huffed, taking a sip and wiping away the excess cream that had gotten on your nose.

“It’s Secret Santa, (Y/N),” she said, “You’re making it way more complicated than it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t just for anyone. It’s for Dallon,” you argued, “I wanna get him something nice.”

“You mean you wanna get him something that’ll make him climb into your bed,” (Y/B/F) smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, if that happens as a result, then I won’t complain.”

~

It was the day of (Y/B/F)’s Christmas party and you still hadn’t found the perfect gift for Dallon. Nervously smoothing out the slight creases in the skirt of your dress, you walked up to her door – empty handed.

When you entered, (Y/B/F) was the first person that saw you, and she waved. After noticing the lack of gift in your hands, her eyes went wide and she held out her hands in expectation, to which you responded with a shrug and a hopeless look.

Excusing herself from the group of people she was standing with, (Y/B/F) quickly made her way over to you.

“What the hell?”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, letting out a groan of frustration and balling your fists.

“You couldn’t have at least gotten him a voucher or something? Why show up with nothing?” she interrogated.

“Because if I’m not gonna get him something that he likes, I might as well not get him anything at all,” you explained your logic. Your eyes caught sight of Dallon a little way off, looking hot as hell, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You better explain that to him,” she shook her head, “He’s standing over there.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Of course you did,” she sniggered, pushing you off in his direction.

Gathering your confidence and taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Hi, Dallon,” you smiled.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he returned your smile, face lighten up once he saw you, “How’re you doin’?”

“I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” he raised an eyebrow and you broke eye contact, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah… Listen, here’s the thing,” you started, and he leaned in closer, concerned, “I drew your name for Secret Santa, and because I wanted to make sure that I got you the perfect gift and not something lame like people usually do for this thing, I spent the entirety of the past month trying to hunt down the right gift, and as a result,” you held out your hands to show their emptiness, “I still haven’t found anything. And I doubt I will, so I ask you… What do you want for Christmas?”

Dallon furrowed his eyebrows as he contemplated your words for a minute. “I’m glad you asked, (Y/N).”

And with that, he took two steps backwards and yanked you along with him, planting both of you right under the mistletoe.

Brendon:

Brendon stood against the wall across the room from you, frowning as he watched you converse with some random partygoer. The two of you were standing dangerously near to some mistletoe, and just the slightest step from either of you would ensure lip-locking, and Brendon was not okay with that.

Especially since he’d been trying the entire night to get you under one of those darned things.

“You do realise that you’d have a better chance of kissing her if you actually went over and talked to her, right?” Dallon chastised, sidling up next to his morbid friend.

“You do realise that I like you a lot better when you shut up, right?” Brendon sassed, eyes not wavering from you in the slightest.

“Hey man, I’m tryna help you here,” Dallon defended with a scoff and a glance in your direction, “Because you seem to be doing a pretty shitty job on your own.”

“Thanks,” Brendon smiled sarcastically, glancing over at the taller male momentarily and sighing, “I just need to time it right. There were lots of times where I came this close,” he held up his middle finger and thumb a millimetre apart, “I just need to keep it casual and move at the right time.”

“Good luck with thaaat,” Dallon chirped, clapping Brendon on the back before swaggering off to grab a drink, leaving his friend to wallow in morbidity once again.

For the next half hour or so, Brendon never took his eyes off of you. He was waiting for that perfect moment, but much to his displeasure, it never seemed to come. You’d constantly get roped into conversations with randoms – most of which lasted a good few minutes – while he’d be left huffing in the shadows.

Currently, you were involved in a chat with Joe, while Pete was keeping Brendon company. Brendon was trying his hardest to pay attention to what Pete was saying – he really was – but the prospect of you accidently walking under the mistletoe with Joe put him on edge. Pete seemed oblivious to the fact, however, and was hammering on about the trip to Vegas he just went on.

“Dude, you have to check this out,” Pete chattered, hurriedly fishing his phone out of his pocket and pulling up a video from his trip.

Being polite, Brendon tore his gaze away from you for an agonizing 30 seconds, something he immediately regretted doing once he looked back up, and saw you standing under the mistletoe with one of your close guy friends, Leighton.

“No!” he exclaimed, and at the speed of light, he jumped up from the sofa he had been occupying with Pete, and sprinted towards you.

When he was within reach, he literally reached out and pushed Leighton away from you, causing the poor guy to topple to the floor. You were so in shock from what had just happened that you just stood there, mouth agape.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Brendon panted, flashing you a dazzling smile, “Huh, would you look at that?” he pointed up, “Mistletoe. You know what that means?”

“That you literally shoved Leighton out of the way for a chance to kiss me?” you chuckled, bringing a blush to the singer’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, casting his gaze downwards.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a smile, “Right, Leighton?” Your friend, still on the floor, shot a thumbs-up into the air in confirmation, “But if you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Really?” Brendon said, voice and eyes full of excitement.

You nodded. “But I guess stalking me the entire night is another way to do it. Anyway… c’mere, you dork.”

Ryan:

Ryan knocked on your front door to signal his arrival, and you stood up from the kitchen barstool and made your way over to open up.

“I gotta go,” you spoke into your phone, “Ryan’s here.”

“Oooo,” (Y/B/F) chuckled, “Have fun. Use protection.”

“Shut up,” you growled, hanging up after you heard her laugh.

When you opened the door, a smiling Ryan, who looked adorable in his matching gloves and scarf, greeted you.

“Hey, Ry,” you greeted, pulling him in for a quick hug before shooing him inside, out of the cold.

“Hi, sugar,” he beamed, removing his coat, gloves and scarf once inside your toasty house.

“Thanks so much for agreeing to help me out with this,” you shot him a thankful glance as you walked back into the kitchen, pouring both of you a cup of coffee from the pot that had brewed not too long ago, “(Y/B/F) was supposed to come over to help last night, but something came up. Wedding things,” you elaborated, and he nodded in understanding.

“It’s really not a problem. I’m always here if you need me,” he said with a sweet smile, gratefully accepting the hot beverage.

“That’s sweet,” you gushed, grinning as you took a sip of coffee, “Shall we get started, then?”

“Yeah! Just tell me what you need me to do,” he stated, following you as you moved from the kitchen to the living room, where all your boxes of decorations were.

“I was thinking we start with the walls, and then move on to the tables; I think it’ll be easier that way,” you explained, gathering the streamers and fairy lights from the box, “Let’s do streamers first.”

~

Just over an hour later, you and Ryan had managed to decorate almost the entire room for your Christmas party tonight; you were just putting the finishing touches on one of the garlands hanging from the wall.

“Annnd, done!” you exclaimed happily, clapping your hands together as you stepped back to admire your handiwork, “It looks wonderful, don’t you think?”

“It does,” Ryan agreed, holding up a hand for you to hi-five, “We make a good team.”

“Yeah, we do,” you scoffed proudly, smacking his hand.

“Is there anything else you need my help with or are you sorted?”

“Nah,” you shook your head as you surveyed the area, “I think we’re good. Thank you again.”

“Anytime, sugar,” he said, giving you a hug. He began to walk away but backtracked a moment later. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

“Hm?”

Much to your surprise, he leaned down and captured your lips in a short, sweet kiss. Even though it only lasted for all of three seconds, it left you completely stupefied.

“Wha…” you began.

He pointed up at the greenery hanging from the ceiling. “Mistletoe.”

Looking up, you grinned as you realised that you were standing directly under it.

“Bye, (Y/N). See ya tonight.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i’ve been thinking about that “sorry i haven’t talked to you, it’s not because i hate you it’s because i’m depressed” post but seriously like...

something to know about me i guess is (shockingly!) my self worth is uh...so not good that i LITERALLY feel like i bother anyone i initiate a conversation with 

or...have a conversation with, period 

if i’ve ever messaged anyone first just know i typed out what i wanted to say probably ten different times before i sent it and that’s AFTER i agonized about it in my head for a while 

obviously there are exceptions at times, sometimes i’ll just...do the damn thing, but then immediately spiral into a panic of “oh god, oh god i bet i’m bothering them. oh shit, they’re rolling their eyes reading this, aren’t they? this person probably fucking hates me right now and is only responding to be polite. abort, abort, abort” 

it’s also why sometimes it takes me literal days to respond to a message or a comment and again...not always, but...it’s become more frequent because i’m just like...i’m probably going to make an ass out of myself or say something really dumb or just bore this person to death, i’ve gotta...go 

and i can be reassured time and time and time again that “no, i love hearing from you!!!” or “i wish we talked more!!!” but it still just...doesn’t get through 

i was downstairs telling my mom about the book i was reading and...logically i know she’s just tired from a long day and probably just wants some time alone to de-stress and relax, but in my brain it’s like “you’re getting on her nerves, she wants you to shut up, what you’re talking about isn’t interesting in the slightest and she’s only pretending to listen, just shut up and walk away” which is...more or less what i did. not just mid-conversation but just “yeah, so i thought that was interesting anyway good night!” and bailed 

and that’s all probably mmm...not great and yet another reason i should get professional help with all my bs but i dunno if i’m ever going to completely shake that feeling of “yikes, i need to stop talking and disappear before i make this person want to kill me” 

it’s also why it’s actually pretty hard for me to like...share my interests with people??? 

i mean i do i’m not saying i just bottle everything up and keep everything to myself and especially the closer you are to me, the more comfortable i am with it but even then i’m always dying on the inside like “oh boy oh boy oh boy this sucks doesn’t it? this sucks and everyone hates it and i’m torturing everyone with this i must LEAVE”

and also tbh this is why i don’t...have more interests??? 

because if you don’t like things you...don’t have to talk about them or even feel like you want to share them anybody, i guess it’s simpler that way

i also feel like i’m...literally too stupid or too uncultured or too just...i don’t even know to enjoy a lot of things so i just...don’t 

obviously i’m not just recycling the same things over and over again, i’ve picked up new things here and there along the way, but for the most part i’d rather just...revisit something i already know because i already know i like it and it’s simpler that way 

then again i also think being depressed plays a part in this as well because it’s just...hard for me a lot of the time to immerse myself into something new, especially if it’s recommended to me and i know that’s super duper shitty because people are excited to share something and want to see my reaction but that...expectation, i guess, stresses me out to the point where i’ll put it off for years sometimes because i’m like...if i don’t get it or don’t like it or whatever i’m not...good enough 

and i know that’s...really dumb, that’s a real bad way of looking at things and it’s something i’ve had to remind myself of constantly like...just because someone doesn’t like something you do, no matter how attached to it you feel, it’s not a rejection of you and it’s not that deep, but i worry that that’s what it means and that if i don’t end up liking that thing it’s like...a negative reflection on me, i guess? 

like...if i read a book someone recommended to me and i didn’t get it or i didn’t think it was that good, that person’s gonna be like, “mmm, i see, you’re too stupid to understand it” which is...probably true, tbh but i just...i dunno 

this is such a mess and probably makes zero sense, but i just keep thinking about it and i dunno 

i know i’m not the only person in the entire world who feels like this, i’ve reblogged enough content with enough likes that tells me other people are in this same boat (or have been at some point) so it’s not like “woah, this is so strange can you believe???” it’s just more so like...wow, anna. get help. your brain isn’t very good at its job and you seem stressed about it and yes, yes i am 

i have a tendency to take things that are supposed to be fun and light-heartened and, via my mental illnesses just...turn it into something way more serious and way less fun than it should ever be and...funnily enough, in the process make other people put out or, if nothing else, i distract from the fun part and that...sucks 

i feel like lately especially with...whatever the hell is going on with me i’m always on edge, always ready to just collapse into tears over the dumbest shit, and my self-worth feels like it’s at an all-time low even though i’m sure there have been times i’ve felt worse about myself but those were...real dark times so i dunno...how much better by comparison i really am but lately everything frustrates me and i feel like i can’t do anything right and that even the smallest, most insignificant mistakes are the end of the world even though they’re most definitely not, but it’s such a hard feeling to shake even when i see that the world doesn’t come to an end it’s still just...overwhelming kinda? 

needless to say this is...why i don’t put myself out there, why i don’t message people first, why i prefer to just...well, do shit like this where i throw things out into the void but i guess it makes me feel a teeny tiny bit better just getting it somewhat out of my head but at the same time i’m probably...oversharing and when all i ever do is talk about these problems but then never actually do anything about it i...make myself into a frustrating person that honestly i...don’t think i’m really all that missed when i don’t message people or reach out to people and that’s not a guilt trip, that’s completely on me like...nobody wants to put up with that person who’s just miserable but won’t lift a finger to help themselves so i guess the conclusion to this ted talk is...i’m sorry if you’ve ever gotten the impression that i don’t care or that i’m distant or just...anything like that whatsoever it’s just...i barely feel like a person anymore and i’ve just been doing a real good job of pretending like i am one because survival skills but i um...i dunno. i’m a mess and i apologize and hopefully will get my shit together one day?? we’ll see 

[captainjetrocketboy]

Cast Some Light [Mercy 76 Fanfic] Chapter 6&7

You’ll Be Alright

Pain.

That’s all he could feel. His head was throbbing, so much so that he thought it would explode. His muscles were sore, and he couldn’t bring himself to stand up. He tried calling for help, against his better judgment, but he couldn’t release any words from his mouth.

Angela.

The thought of her passed his mind, and gave him the energy boost he desperately needed. He once again tried pushing himself up on his shaky arms from the cold, hard floor of the practice range. He needed to be strong. For her sake.

With an audible groan, the soldier steadied himself on his two legs, unconsciously rubbing the back of his head where Reaper’s shotgun made contact. He desperately tried to assess the situation in a logical manner, but the fear and dread of what they’re going to do – or are doing – to his Angela are clouding his thoughts. Acting on a whim with no concern for his injury, 76 swiftly grabbed his rifle from the floor and began to sprint to his room. ‘You have to find her’ was the mantra that repeated in his head. He didn’t exactly know how yet, but he had to act now. He wouldn’t admit it openly, but he feared what will happen if he isn’t fast enough.

Pain.

That’s all she could feel. Her head felt hazy, as if she woke up from a bad sleep. Her neck was sore, and she could feel a small scar where the dart pierced her skin.

The floor was rough, and cold as ice. The room she in was almost completely dark, only illuminated by a few construction work lights. Her body felt numb, and she couldn’t bring herself to sit up, let alone stand. When she attempted to lift herself on her arms, she let out a painful groan, falling straight down onto the hard surface.

She let out a raspy call for help, desperately hoping that someone would hear her. But she knew that wasn’t likely. She doesn’t know where she is, and she’s afraid to acknowledge that no one is around to save her. She could only hope that her soldier would somehow find a way to rescue her.

She was alone, and she could only wait for what’s to come.

Soldier 76 burst into his living quarters, and hastily began to gather supplies. Biotic emitters, pulse ammo, a spare pistol, and most importantly, his tactical mask. Bringing the visor close to his face, it quickly attached with a puff of pneumatic air. He then stuffed the ammo capsules into his leather pouches before briskly wrapping the belt around his waist. He attached the emitters to an extra bandolier, as well. Paying no mind to the evident mess that was just created, 76 exited the room and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

He was almost to the dropship bay when his eyes caught sight of Torbjorn’s workshop in his peripherals. His mind began to formulate an idea, and he came to a sudden stop, his boots skidding on the smooth floor. Dismissing the idea that he was essentially invading the engineer’s private space, his eyes darted from pieces of scrap metal to various devices before landing on the contraption that he instantly recognized. Angela’s Caduceus staff was laid on a wooden desk, seemingly untouched. The soldier picked it up, then proceeded to insert it between his back and bandolier, where the staff stayed tightly in place.

Resuming his sprint, he wasn’t quite sure what bringing Angela’s staff would do for him. Hell, he didn’t even know if the damn thing worked. But he had this feeling that it could be potentially useful, whether as a weapon or a tool. Either way, he’s made up his mind and wouldn’t go on without it.

Entering the massive hangar where the Overwatch dropships were kept, 76 was thankful that they had more than one ship. The others were still gone, and he had assumed that they’d taken a dropship to travel to wherever their mission was. His suspicions were confirmed when he could only see one other dropship still present. He considered waiting for the rest of the team to come back –  safety in numbers and all that – but again 76 was afraid to lose precious time.

Like a mad bull, Soldier 76 hastily made his way into the only other dropship where he was met with a perplexing thought. Gazing at the holographic globe present in his sight, he could feel his heart beat furiously when the realization struck him.

He had no idea where to go.

76 was so lost in his fear that he hadn’t even considered thinking of a solid plan. Such temerarious actions were now coming back to sting him.

‘Shit! Now what? I-I don’t even know where to look for you…’ The anger the soldier was feeling made way for a heavy sorrow that weighed on his entire body. He collapsed to his knees on the floor of the dropship, then pushed his rifle to the side as tears began to steadily flow through his blue orbs. The adrenaline that surged through him was the only thing keeping the man from falling apart, but it quickly dissipated as he was met with a roadblock. Normally these kinds of emotions were kept away, never to be seen by the light of day. Terror. Misery. Heartbreak. But the absence of anyone’s presence made him think that it was okay to release some of it out.

What felt like hours passed by before a beeping sound caught the soldier’s attention. He lifted his head up to see blinking lights radiating off the globe. He recognized the familiar line that began to dance around the hologram. It was purple instead of blue, though. Eventually, it landed on a peculiar location. One that he happened to be well acquainted with.

A pin extended from the globe, as well as a name that translated to: Giza.

The engines of the dropship suddenly roared to life as the aircraft rumbled and began to hover. In any other circumstance, Soldier 76 would have questioned the convenience of the coordinates entering themselves in. But if there was even a chance that this ship was going to take him to where he needed to be, then he had no questions to ask.

The man quickly gathered himself together then sprinted up to the front seats of the ship, where he allowed the aircraft to take him away.

‘Hang in there Angela. I’m coming for you.’

Angela had no choice but to pace around in her prison. That didn’t stop her from making small observations of her environment.

‘Sand. There’s a lot of sand in this makeshift cell. Metal bars. They’re covering the two visible exits. Shafts of cold steel keeping me in here. They aren’t quite secured into the ground, but I’m not strong enough to pull them out myself.’

And she also noticed quite possibly the most out of place thing in this cell. Well, she wouldn’t say it’s a thing. Rather, it’s a person. A woman, too. She was unconscious and lied face down, and Angela wanted to check her pulse or breathing to see if she was still alive. Before she could though, a pair of clawed hands violently grasped the metal bars. The loud sound startled her, and made her jump back towards the nearest column.

“Look who’s awake. Glad to see you up.” The slow and raspy voice was instantly recognized by Angela.

“Reaper,” she spat out.

The ghastly man let out a menacing laugh. “Ah, so you remember me. Are you comfortable in there?”

She didn’t respond, and tried her hardest not to make eye contact.

“Well, don’t worry. You won’t be in there for much longer. That I can promise you, Angela.”

The mention of her name made her heart race, but she wouldn’t be able to think much else of it. From the corner of her eye, she could see the black figure pull out a gun from behind his coat. But this wasn’t your typical gun; there were three blue prongs at the front, with a big yellow circle encompassing the barrel.

Those were the last things she saw before another dart pierced her forearm. Almost immediately, she felt her eyes become heavy. Her legs quickly gave out, and she hit the rough ground face first. Her mind began to slip back into darkness, but not before she could hear the fear-inducing cackle of her captor.

The flight over to Giza was a long and agonizing one for Soldier 76. The thrusters reached their maximum speed a while ago, but time couldn’t pass any slower. Fear was constantly at the front of the man’s head, hoping that it wasn’t too late to save her. He sat at the edge of his seat, legs bouncing and hands tightly clutching the smooth but worn surface of his rifle. 76 tried to focus on the clouds in the night sky passing by the dropship’s hull to try and relax, but the concern still poked at his mind.

‘C’mon you damn thing. Move faster!’

Suddenly, the soldier noticed the glimmer of the moon’s shine on a glossy surface. The familiar sight of the Temple was welcomed, and a brief wave of relief passed through his body. He knew immediately he had finally made it. As if he needed any more confirmation, the dropship began to slow down and descend towards the surface. The landing sequence took place right outside the stone walls of the town. Sand was blown around as the massive aircraft contacted with the desert ground. Soldier 76 sprang up from the chair he sat on and sprinted to the hatch doors. As soon as they completely opened, he bolted outside into the cold desert air.

In the near distance, an abandoned transporter truck menacingly towered over the soldier. He hastily sprinted closer towards it, noticing some surrounding construction scaffolding, as well. They were no match for the enhanced maneuvers of the man, as he easily jumped over them with no problem. Soon enough, the arches of the wall gateway passed overhead and Soldier 76 found himself in the town market, devoid of any other people.

At least, that’s what he thought until he made his way to the entrance of the Temple of Anubis. There, even under the dim light of the moon, he could see the black garbed figure of his old comrade. He stood at the top of the steps with confidence, as if he was waiting for 76 to arrive.

“Reaper,” Soldier hissed under his breath, coming to a stop. His heart pounded both from the run and the tension he could feel between them.

“Took you long enough. That dropship of yours couldn’t move any faster?” Reaper maintained the slow raspy tone, his arms crossed and head tilted upwards.

Soldier 76 didn’t have the patience to deal with this. “Cut the bullshit. I know you know why I’m here, and you are not going to get in my way.”

“Heh. Getting right into it, eh Jack? You haven’t changed a bit.”

Without warning, Reaper quickly drew an unfamiliar gun from under his coat. A dart flew out and was aimed right towards 76. It would’ve pierced into the soldier’s chest had it not been for his heightened reflexes. A helix rocket was launched as the distance between the fighting men began to close. Reaper jumped back to dodge the incoming missile, and made a near audible growl as he began to sprint backwards. 76 followed in pursuit. Soldier knew how this battle needed to end. It was only a matter of doing it that would be the hard part.

Now atop the small bridge leading into the Temple, Reaper swiftly summoned his two signature shotguns, and skidded his boots on the stone as he shifted direction. A barrage of bullets sprayed down the path, with some of them grazing 76. The soldier rolled into cover, hastily opened a biotic field and smashed it into the sandy ground. As soon as his minor injuries healed, 76 poked around the corner and fired a couple shots at the shadowy figure. He too then moved into cover.

The equal strength and tactical prowess of both former commanders would inevitably drag this fight on for an extensive amount of time. Time that 76 was afraid he didn’t have. There had to be some way to turn the tide in his favor…

Suddenly Soldier 76 realized that he might have just the thing. Angela’s staff. The thing was miraculously still strapped to his back despite all his running. Removing the staff from between his back and his bandolier, it took him a moment to figure out how to do what he wanted to do. He could hear the heavy steps of Reaper closing in. He had to act fast.

‘Okay, Jack. You’ve been in countless missions with Angela. This shouldn’t be a problem.’ 76 thought as he took out a spare handkerchief and tied it around the button that would activate the staff’s damage boosting power. Sure enough, the soldier’s ingenuity paid off as a stream of blue nanobots surged through the staff and tethered to his body. Jabbing the device upright into the sand, 76 jumped out of his cover and prepared to aim right at a charging Reaper.

“I’ve got you in my sights.” Soldier 76 wasted no time and fired a flurry of helix rockets, small bolts of electricity escaping the barrel of his gun. Reaper was caught off guard, and was knocked down by the explosive knock-back and damage of the rockets. Before Soldier could finish him off, Reaper reverted to his wraith form and flew away.

If he wasn’t still looking for Angela, Jack would have called Reyes a coward for running away again.

But right now, while he had a moment of respite, he seized the opportunity and pressed on his search. Turning around, 76 removed Angela’s Caduceus staff from the sand and untied the handkerchief. Placing it back between his bandolier, he approached the official entrance of the Temple of Anubis, where he was met with a crude makeshift prison. Glancing between the scrap pieces of metal, he instantly recognized the slouched silhouette of his lover.

“Angela!” the soldier cried as he was met with an intense feeling of relief. As he leaned his rifle on the wall behind him, a desperate 76 attempted to tear the metal scraps out of the ground.

“Jack?” Angela’s voice was low and was heavy with fatigue. “Oh, Jack!”

His sheer strength was enough to rip a couple bars out before he stumbled down the steps and to the one person he cared about most.

“My god, Angela, are you okay?” Although she wouldn’t be able to see it, tears began streaming down the man’s war torn face. “I-I was so worried about you.”

Angela was enveloped in the soldier’s warm strong arms. She wrapped hers around his neck, returning the much-welcomed embrace. “Me too. I thought this was it for me.”

“You know I wouldn’t let that happen. Not now, and not ever.”

The two just remained in silence. They had been through a lot today, and they both knew that they needed a moment of solace.

After a few minutes in each other’s arms, 76 finally spoke up. “We should get you out of here. The dropship’s right outside the town walls.”

Without saying anything, Angela acquiesced and attempted to stand.

“Can you walk? Here, let me help you.”

“W-wait, we should also take…” Before Angela could finish her sentence, she saw that there was nobody else in her cell.

“Take what, Angel?”

But, she was sure that… “N-Nothing. Let’s go…”

The two began to make their way back when a dark mist passed by their feet. “W-What was that?” Angela croaked.

76 knew exactly what it was. Or rather, who it was. Reaper returned and materialized back into his tangible form. “Stay back, Reaper. You don’t want to do this.”

The lack of a response only made 76 more apprehensive of what lengths the garbed man is willing to go to. Reaper took a step forward, shotguns in hands, and visibly clenched them in anger.

“Angela, stay here. I’ll take care of this.” The soldier helped Angela to lean on a nearby stone pillar before slowly approaching Reaper. To his annoyance, 76 realized he had left his rifle right outside Angela’s prison. He didn’t want to risk anything by going for it, so instead he drew his spare pistol and took aim at his former friend.

They stood there silent for a brief second before Soldier took the first shot. It landed directly in Reaper’s chest, but he only laughed as more black smoke encircled the figure. 76’s heart sank as he realized what Reaper intended to do.

“DIE MORRISON! DIE!”

In a blur of motion, Reaper emptied both his shotguns in a bombardment of bullets. Soldier 76 attempted to get out of the way, but was unable to before several of them entered his body.

He collapsed to the ground as he felt his conscience slip away steadily.

“NO!” 76 could barely hear Angela’s terror-filled scream as his eyelids became heavy with darkness.

“Both of your suffering isn’t over yet. I’m still coming for you, Angela!” Reaper shouted at the top of his lungs as he towered over the near dead corpse of the soldier.  “Just you wait and see!”

Before she could respond, Reaper turned back into his wraith form and disappeared into the night. Her heart was left broken, and she made haste for Jack. “Jack?! No, no, y-you can’t die now. Not like this…”

“I’m sorry Angela. I-I should have… should have seen that coming…”

“Please…”

“I… love you, Angela… Don’t think for a second that… that this is going to change that fact.”

Even with his visor still on, Angela knew that the man she loved had taken his last breath. And it was her fault. She wasn’t stupid. She had a feeling that this conflict between the three of them had something to do with her. If it wasn’t, then why hadn’t Reaper just killed her instead of keeping her locked up?

Her tears had been almost run dry before she realized something. Beneath the lifeless body of Jack, was something she was well familiar with.

Her Caduceus Staff.

How had she not realized this before? She blamed her previous grogginess and fatigue on that one. Removing the device from under the fallen soldier, she was thankful that he was smart enough to bring it along with him. Whether it was for this reason, she did not know completely, but was grateful nonetheless.

Grasping her staff in both hands, she raised it skyward and released a surge of restorative biotic energy.

“Heroes never die!”

The yellow glow emanated from Angela surrounded Soldier 76 as it brought life back into the man. 76 gasped as his eyes shot open. They wandered and darted, but eventually met a set of blue eyes. The corners of his mouth perked up.

“I knew you could do it, Angel.”

Angela couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh despite her tear-stained face. “Welcome back to the land of the living, my love.”

The coordinates for the Overwatch Headquarters had been set, and the dropship was on autopilot back home.

“Feeling okay?” Angela said as Jack had an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Jack let out an exasperated chuckle, before properly responding. “But, I’ll tell you this: I’ll never get used to that feeling.”

Angela could help but smile. Jack’s positive attitude, despite all the shit that went down, was quite contagious. “I get that a lot. You should just try not to do that often. I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“Well, let me take a listen.” He leaned down to Angela’s chest and listened intently to the beat of her healthy heart. “It sounds quite fine to me.”

“Jack, I’m serious about this.” Angela’s words greatly contrasted with her smirk and laughing.

Jack lifted his head up and made eye contact. He was awfully close to Angela’s face. “I know, and I’m sorry I made you worry, Angel. I promise to not die again.” He began to lean in for a kiss, and she met him halfway.

For a moment, she was happy. She was happy that Jack could save her. She was happy that they could have another chance at this. And yet, she had plenty of questions still. But not all of them did she want answers to. Who was that mysterious woman with her in that prison? Where had she gone? Where had Reaper gone? What did he mean by what he said?

She supposed only time will tell, but for now, all she could do was try to be happy.

“But I mean, if it does happen again, you’ll bring me back, right?”

And with Jack, she knew that being happy wouldn’t be hard.

Whoops. This wasn’t supposed to take more than a year to finish. Guess a married life will do that to you.

Anyway, here are the last two chapters combined into one for this series. Think it is as an apology gift for taking so long to do this. :P

[psychicmedium14]

We are in a constant battle with time each day: I need to get to work on time; I wish he would commit to me right now; I want this problem to end immediately. But the almighty truth is that we can never manipulate time. We can only work with it by following the four universal rules of time. Recognizing the four truths of time grants us the wisdom of knowing exactly when to jump into action and when to stay still and wait. Timing is everything. Trying to work against the divine timing of your life is like trying to walk against a strong headwind. But when you understand and use universal timing to your advantage, the wind is blowing from behind you, ushering you forward in the right direction. Truly, time then becomes your eternal ally. The following steps are loosely taken from the book that Alexandra Harra co-authored with her mom, Dr. Carmen Harra, entitled The Karma Queens’ Guide to Relationships: Our discomfort with facing the present can cause us to struggle with relationships. All relationships change over time, but we often fool ourselves into thinking a relationship has remained the same as it always was. Sometimes we do grasp that a relationship has changed, and we want it to go back to what it was. We hang in there hoping the relationship will improve, that the past will come around again. Meanwhile, we avoid acknowledging how unhappy we are in the present. This does a great disservice to everyone involved. It would be nice if our relationship problems solved themselves instantly, but resolving karma within a relationship involves a process. It takes time, patience, and hard work, and it starts with being honest with ourselves about what is happening in the relationship right now. Worrying about the past or future, or wishing that the good old days would come back or that the future will be better, takes your eyes off what is happening in the present—and you must be in the present in order to begin resolving and mastering your karma. If you want to become a karma queen, it’s important to align with the four rules of universal time: Universal Time Rule #1: Everything Is in Flux Everything is changing at all times, even the rocks and the mountains! We don’t think about how life is constantly transforming, but when we forget this is true, we can become attached to situations as they were or as they are. In Buddhism, it’s said that suffering comes from our attachments to how things are, or were, or might be. As long as we look at our circumstances as bad simply because they aren’t what we want them to be right now, we cause ourselves grief. We start thinking that anything less than ideal is bad, and we become obsessed with the idea that things are not as we want them to be. Yet when we understand that change is a part of life, we have an easier time accepting what our relationships and our lives are right now in this moment. If you want to master your karma and become a karma queen, you have to accept that time is in a flux. Anchor yourself in the present and deal with things as they are presently, because they could change for better or worse at any given moment. The paradox is that we have to start with acceptance before trying to make our situations or relationships better. We can have greater influence over the way our relationships transform if we stop resisting how they are right now. The more we let them be, the more they change in our favor—both because that’s the way the universe works and because our mindset helps us be more accepting of the situation. You can’t change the ebb and flow of the ocean—you can only admire it. All relationships must transform. No relationship stays the same. No person is exactly who he or she was in the past. Everyone, at any stage of life, can change. Relationships require that we embrace people as they are now — not as they once were or as they might be at some point down the road. You must allow people to change and grow and not stifle their potential. Let yourself transform freely, too. Let others expand in their own ways and at their own pace. You can lovingly speak to them about their transformation, and encourage them or warn them about obstacles you see on the road ahead of them, but don’t try to hold them back from their personal growth. Allow them to learn in their own ways and their own time. Love them enough to let them evolve. Love yourself and others as you are right now, understanding that one day you may miss the person you know now after they’ve undergone certain shifts. There’s always room for improvement, yes, and there are always challenges to be met. But remember that change happens. Let your relationships ebb and flow and transform, gently guiding them in the direction you want them to go in, but taking a small step back when you see that they are resistant to your efforts. Leave it in the hands of the Divine. Universal Time Rule #2: Timing Matters When you communicate with others, be aware of their cycles and their moods. People are better able to handle difficult news or questions when they don’t feel rushed or put on the spot in front of others. Nobody likes to be stressed or pressured. At the same time, you can’t avoid confrontations and expect to maintain good relationships. Have the challenging conversations, but do it in the right timing. Otherwise, you may end up rebutting out of frustration or anger, which can seriously damage your relationship. So hold off on the tough talks until you feel you can adequately hold your tongue and respond in the right way. If, in any given situation, you’re anxious and want an answer right away, stop and think. Can you deal with your anxiety on your own and wait until the person you care about is in a better state to talk about what’s important to you? Can you calm yourself down before talking further? It’s easier to pay attention to other people’s timing when you’re not in a panic yourself. The difference between pushing someone’s buttons when they’re in an already bad mood, and waiting to reason with them when they’re more receptive, is enormous. Things can turn ugly quickly when your insecurities or anxieties push someone who’s already irritable over the edge. This is why it’s crucial to inspect the timing of your conversation. Chances are, you may come across as irritating, even desperate, if you approach someone in the middle of an anxious or “needy” mood swing. You might end up saying hurtful things you don’t mean because your words are derived from your pain, not from love or logic. If the timing for a difficult conversation isn’t good but you are agonizing over having to remain silent for a bit, release your elevated emotions by scribbling them furiously in your journal or screaming your words in your bathroom as you shower—just don’t approach your loved one for a tough conversation in the midst of a compromised mood! Love yourself and others enough to pay attention to the unique timing of everyone involved. Universal Time Rule #3: Trying to Force Matters or Pressure People Doesn’t Work If you’re impatient, you may end up issuing ultimatums to people. A woman might say to her romantic partner, “If you don’t make up your mind in three months about whether to commit to this relationship, I’m out of here!” But ultimatums are for you, not other people. And, honestly, ultimatums ultimately end relationships. You can’t force people to operate on your timetable. They have their own timing. You can set your boundaries and expectations, but you can’t make them change, much less make them change as quickly as you would like them to. Change has to come from their heart—they have to want to put in the necessary effort. If you feel the need to set a boundary with someone and issue an ultimatum, set one up for yourself as well. Make it a two-way street. Say, “I know you need to take time to make your decision. Just know that if this doesn’t happen by such-and-such a time, I may move on,” and then follow through on the ultimatum you made for yourself. Don’t be angry, hurt, and resentful. Often, people want to change but they don’t know how to, or it’s too difficult for them because they haven’t done it before. Don’t assume they’re not changing because they don’t care about your feelings! Just accept that the other person’s timing isn’t yours. You might discover that the person changes his or her mind and comes back to you very soon. People who are committed to change will find their way back into your life. Universal Time Rule #4: Impatience Calls for Exploration Fear is usually what’s driving impatience, so when you’re impatient, the best thing to do is stop and explore your fear. This includes exploring whether there are any outside pressures pushing you to act. Do you have to get married to this person, or by a certain time? Are others rushing you to make peace with someone right now, when you need more time to be able to work through your feelings and forgive that person? By better understanding your fear, you’ll have an easier time letting go of it. Then you’ll be more patient and you can focus on the process of transformation. Learning the truth about time will save you from unnecessary stress and strain. Understanding when the universe supports certain actions versus when it urges you to be patient can help you make the best decisions possible. Become aware of the four universal time rules and start working hand in hand with your Divine timing today.

[bkwrm523]

In the Shadows of Mid-World: The Door.  Chapter 1

Title: In the Shadows of Mid-World: The Door Rating: Explicit Author: Not me, but my boyfriend Andy who does not have a tumblr. Pairing: Eventual Susan/OC Word Count: 4131 Warnings: Romantic angst, violence, sacrifice by fire, smut Summary: 17-year-old Ronnie Gage from New York City in 2017 is having very vivid dreams about a place called Hambry and a girl named Susan Delgado. Author’s Blogger’s Note: This is for the Dark Tower series by Stephen King.  This is only the first chapter.  If you want me to tag you in this, reblog or comment on the post.

The dream began the way it always did. I’m sitting astride my horse Rusher, on the spot near The Drop where I often go to be alone and to think. My thoughts were heavy with a great many things, like my mother’s betrayal, my father’s face, Marten Broadcloak, my friends Cuthbert and Alain’s loss of faith in me, Eldred Jonas and his so-called Big Coffin Hunters, John Farson, Gilead and of course...Susan. For weeks I’ve tried to put Susan out of my mind for both our sakes...but to no avail. All I could think of was that last time we spoke together, when we kissed, when she said to me so sweetly, almost pleadingly “If you love me, then love me. Make me break my promise.” As much as I wanted to, as much as I wanted her...I told her I couldn’t. I kept thinking of what might happen to her if she broke her obligation to Mayor Thorin, of what might happen to us both. But alas, neither Susan nor I were gifted with The Touch like my good friend Alain. She couldn’t see into my thoughts and know that I was only trying to act in her best interests. Tearfully and angrily she jumped on her horse and rode off, no doubt feeling both hurt and rejected, as I allowed myself to shed tears of my own...preparing myself for the knowledge that I probably would never see her again.

I tried to once again put this painful memory of the lovely Susan Delgado out of my mind and once again I failed...because I saw her with my own two eyes. She was many yards below and away from where I sat upon Rusher, riding her own threaded mount Felicia toward a willow grove, her well fitted white sleeveless dress being the only thing cutting through the darkness. My heart jumped around inside my chest at the very sight of her. I so desperately wanted to chase after her, to cry her pardon for saying no to her offer of the most precious gift that any girl can give to a boy or man. I desperately wanted to tell her how much she owned of my heart...to beg her to repeat her offer. But I thought better of it, I had made the painful decision to stay away from her for a good reason and if I so easily abandoned that vow...then I had truly indeed forgotten the face of my father! So I took up Rusher’s reins and prepared to ride back to town, back to the Bar K bunkhouse where Cuthbert and Alain were sleeping, back to my mission and life as a Gunslinger! But as I turned to leave, I caught sight of something that was quite odd to me. Susan was riding bareback...she always rode with a saddle, meaning she had mounted her horse in a hurry...meaning that something was very wrong in her world. Against the logical verdict of my better judgement, I tugged on Rusher’s reins, gently kicked my boot heels into his sides and rode off in the direction of the willow grove.

I left Rusher near the edge of the willow grove and crept inward on foot. I immediately caught sight of Susan kneeling on the ground next to a brook. Her back was to me, so I could see her beautiful blonde hair fashioned into a braid that nearly reached down to her rear. As I got closer I could see her shoulders involuntarily jerking up and down and I could hear short, choked gasps coming from her throat...meaning that she was crying. I abandoned my stealthy approach instantly and walked toward her. The first branch that snapped under my boot startled Susan and caused her to look over her shoulder. The second branch that snapped under my boot and caused her to turn in my direction. “GO AWAY!”, she desperately screamed through her tears. “GO AWAY, whoever ye are, be decent and leave me alone!” But as soon as those beautiful stormy gray eyes fixed upon me, her anguish momentarily dissipated. It was a crime to see those eyes that I had often found myself lost within, flooded and red with tears. As soon as I reached her, I knelt down to her level and put my arms around her. She reciprocated by hugging me tightly lest I blew away like smoke in the wind...then she began to cry again.

She asked me how I knew where she was and I told her. I told her how I saw her riding bareback across The Drop and how I believed that something was wrong. With fresh tears streaming down her face and soaking into my shirt, she pitifully responded, “Everything’s wrong!” Without hesitation, I began to kiss her tears away like my mother may have done had I fallen down and hurt myself as a child. I tasted the saltiness of her tears each time my lips made contact with her cheeks. When I was certain that my kisses had done their work, I gently took her by the shoulders and held her back from me so I could look into those gray eyes. Then as my heart beat with the vigor of one hundred stampeding horses, I say the words I so desperately wanted to say to her for weeks. But as the words emerged from my mouth, I knew I was setting something into motion that couldn’t be stopped. I said to her, “Say it again and I will Susan. I don’t know if that’s a promise or a warning or both at the same time, but...say it again and I will.”

At that moment, Susan ceased her agonized sobbing and her face was overcome by a look of blissful indecision. My feverishly romantic heart begged her to say it again while my viciously logical mind demanded her silence. Those beautiful gray eyes soon had an answer. “Roland!”, she said. “Yes, Susan”, I replied. Before any real notion of stopping her could take root within my mind, Susan moved her small feminine hand to the spot under my belt buckle and through my jeans she took hold of the weapon God had placed between my legs for the purpose of which we were now upon the brink. “If you love me, then love me”, she said with that same sweet and pleading voice as before. Knowing that the point of no return had already been passed, I replied, “Aye, lady. I will!”

Within moments, my shirt was off and had become a crumpled mass upon the ground. Susan had her hands busy with unfastening my belt while I took hold of the shoulder straps of her dress to slide it off of her. Soon our clothes were strewn about the ground and I had Susan’s heavenly nude form pressed against me as I held her in my arms and kissed her passionately. I kept my hands firmly planted on her hips and she kept hers planted on my shoulders. Using the knowledge I had gained from my disappointing first encounter with the pretty whore from Gilead, I began to nuzzle her neck while gently massaging her back and rear. She gasped, moaned and wriggled under my touch, evidently my hands were gifted with giving pleasure as well as shooting. She tightly gripped my shoulders, stood tiptoed and began to lick and nibble on my ear...nearly banishing what was left of my reason from this world.

My senses were overwhelmed with stimuli, which only augmented the experience. There was the scent of the damp night air, the light of the moon, the softness of Susan’s skin, the breeze cooling our rapidly warming bodies, her lips nibbling on my ear, the sound of her breath, the throbbing in my stiffening cock, the warmth radiated by her virgin pussy and a great many more sensations. The one that resonated the most to me, the one that bore the greatest importance to me was the moment when Susan joined one of her soft delicate hands with mine. Our intertwined fingers became a symbolic extension of our brief union. Through the haze of ecstasy, I am able to grasp my reason and pull it back to my plane of existence. I lifted Susan into my arms like she was my bride and I was carrying her across the threshold to the marital bed. I laid her down gently next to the brook and focused all of my attention on her.

I began to kiss her body. I kissed her legs, her thighs, her belly, her chest, her neck and her mouth. I refrained from touching her pussy with my mouth...although I wanted to. I wanted to slide my tongue inside of her and taste her...but I felt that should wait until she told me that she was ready for that. After kissing her lips like a drowning man desperate for air, I turned my attention to her breasts. I took them into my gifted hands with a firm yet gentle grip and began to suckle on her nipples. My actions elicited welcome sounds of delightful moaning from Susan as her body wriggled beneath me.

I switched nipples every few seconds with my hands tending to the one absent from my mouth. Apparently my equal attention to her nipples met with my lady’s approval, because I felt the quick motion of her hand running down the length of her body as she began to tend to her pussy with feverish delight. When I felt her nipples stiffen between my lips and fingers, I gently began to apply pressure with my teeth. Susan gasped and moaned so loud that small animals hiding in the nearby bushes became startled and fled. The misery and angst that had haunted her for months was gone, replaced with love, affection and pleasure she had never known...which I was more than happy to give. I really didn’t care about my own needs at that particular moment...because my Susan was happy. Suddenly I felt Susan grip my cock and she began to slowly stroke it, her hand was quite slick from the attention she had given her pussy and it must have been as wet as the brook. Our eyes met and with the silent vocabulary that we were making up as we went along...she told me that she was ready for me.

With my cock now as solid as the barrels of the guns of Arthur Eld, I took it into my hand and slowly found my way inside Susan. While she was very wet, she was also very tight. Unused to my girth, she winced with some discomfort, her tears were now those of physical pain instead of emotional anguish. I continued to slowly and gently inch my cock deeper to limit her discomfort, but the deeper I went, the more she whimpered. Soon I felt some resistance within and she loudly groaned in pain...I had reached her maiden head. I was now conflicted, do I withdraw a little to give her some relief? Or do I keep going? I looked into those gray eyes for an answer...and once again I found one.

She looped her legs around my knees and pulled me deeper into her. She cried out in pain and then...I was all the way in. My hilt was against the lips of her pussy and my balls were against her rear. Tears were still lightly trickling from her eyes...but she was smiling regardless. I kissed her long and passionately, her tongue entered my mouth I regarded it as consent to keep going. I withdrew my cock from Susan’s pussy a little bit, then I pushed my way back in. Out and in, out and in, out and in. I stared into Susan’s eyes and was relieved to see the tears stop. Her whimpers of pain subsided and became moans of pleasure...it was starting to feel good and she was loving it.

I quickened my pace slightly, I thrusted into her with more power and her moaning became louder and more frequent. With her legs still looped around my knees she pulled me in deep when I thrusted into her and then relinquished when I withdrew...out and in, out and in, out and in. We were like dancers joined in an erotic waltz and she was matching my rhythm perfectly. As my boldness and confidence grew, I thrusted even quicker and harder...and Susan had no trouble keeping up with me. Soon I was moaning right along with her as the head of my cock tingled with the nirvana it had discovered within the soft folds of her pussy. My heart was pounding, I could barely breathe, sweat was dripping off of my forehead and onto her body. This may have been Susan’s first time, but she already had such unbridled passion within that she now shared with me. It was my second time...but I felt as ecstatic and as nervous when I lost my virginity.

The tingling sensation had reached my balls and only intensified. If God had seen fit to strike me dead...I would’ve wanted it to be at this moment and would’ve had no regrets. We kissed, I thrusted into her, she pulled me deeper...out and in, out and in, out and in. We spoke no words as we had no breath to spare, but we looked into one another’s eyes and we knew that we were both close to climax. She kissed me again, playfully nibbling on my lower lip...her wordless way of saying that she was nearly ready to cum. So I summoned up my final reserves of energy and gave Susan everything I had. She moaned as loud as her lungs could manage could manage and my own moans were close behind. Out and in, out and in, out and in...we were so close.

Susan gripped the back of my neck and brought my forehead flush with hers. As I threw all of my energy into one final thrust, we stared into each other's eyes as we reached the brink. Susan came first, her moans crescendoing into a deafening near scream. The contractions deep within her pussy pushed me over the brink and I came inside of her. Our sounds of passion merged together as we held each other tightly, our bodies shuddered as the pleasure we felt rose up from our loins and washed over us like a warm wave. We panted like we had just been chased by the devil himself, I felt the last traces of seed exit my cock and felt a chill up my spine as the cool breeze struck me. Our muscles relaxed and I rested my head on Susan’s shoulder while she ran her fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. I raised my head, met her eyes again and we kissed...the perfect finale to this wonderful encounter.

I pulled my softening cock out of Susan’s pussy and rolled onto my back next to her. I briefly took in the sight of her as she lay there. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath she took, her skin glistened with sweat and her pussy was spattered with traces of blood and my seed. Her eyes were closed and she was at peace. As my eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion, I lay there looking at my Susan, whose virginity was now only a memory. For better or worse, we were now lovers.

We lay there hip to hip, basking in the sweet afterglow for what seemed a pleasant eternity when Susan broke the silence. “Roland?”, she asked. “Yes?”, I answered. With a voice both sweet and unsure she asked, “Will thee take care of me?” I tell her yes...but I feel the dull yet ever present pain of guilt as I do. She then voices her quite warranted concerns to me. There was the matter of her obligation to Mayor Thorin, which had now been broken by our act of love. Then there was the seed I had deposited in her womb that would very likely grow into a baby. I managed to find the right words to reassure her, I told her that “Whatever comes, we’ll do as we must. And I’ll always love you, no matter what comes”. I told her that she would never go to Mayor Thorin’s bed. I said,  “That you can count on. I set my warrant on it”  But as I see her worries fade from her troubled brow, I feel like a liar with every word that comes out of my mouth. I know that I am making her promises that I cannot keep...that I will not keep! But for the life of me I cannot fathom why it is so!

As the fog of memory comes to erase my surroundings, I see that warm smile adorn her lips. I feel her soft delicate hand grip my cock, which had begun to stiffen again. “Here’s a warrant ye can set on me, if ye would,” she said. I smiled, pulled her close and kissed her. As the fog comes closer, I revel in the glimpse I catch of Susan’s moist pussy as she mounts me for our second time together. I run my hands up the length of her body and hold her breasts with the same firm yet gentle grip as before. As the fog clears away the willow grove, I catch sight of Susan’s stormy gray eyes one last time. She is happy, content...and free!

The dream ended the way it always did...or so it seemed! I was in the middle of the town of Hambry, within the midst of a mob at least two hundred strong maybe more. Their demeanor was a toxic mixture of rage, euphoria and hysteria. I laid eyes upon a sight dead ahead that I sadly knew very well. It was a charyou tree as the locals called it. Every year during the Reaptide festival the folks of Hambry would burn the charyou tree along with a sacrifice to bring life to the next year’s crops, sometimes a human sacrifice if they were lucky. This year they were cursed with wonderful luck, bought with blood. Hambry’s beloved Mayor Thorin had been murdered and the hag known to all as Rhea of the Coos had convinced them that the perfect sacrifice would be the the treacherous little cunt responsible...or so they were told. So I watched  as a small wagon brought forth the unfortunate sacrifice to the charyou tree...the lovely Susan Delgado.

I watch as she is lifted from the wagon, over the heads of the bloodthirsty crowd to the top of the pile of dried cornhusks that will serve as the fuel for the bonfire. Her beautiful face is swollen and bruised from the obvious beating she was thrown, her lips move in words of silent prayer as some of the frenzied horde she once called her friends and neighbors tied her to the charyou tree. This chain of events was forever burned into my memory, but this time it felt...wrong! Not just morally wrong...but inaccurate. I couldn’t understand why, the circumstances played out as they had always done so far! Next the bonfire would be lit, Susan would give a brave and defiant final declaration of some kind, then she would be burned alive and the hellish inferno would erase her beauty and spirit from existence. I knew these events quite well...along with their perpetual effect on me...so why did this feel all wrong?!

After a few precious seconds of searching my memory archive, I had an answer. They felt wrong because I had always been miles away from Hambry when these events transpired. I remembered very clearly being near Eyebolt Canyon with Cuthbert and Alain right after killing Eldred Jonas and several followers of John Farson himself, including his right hand man Latigo. I remember helplessly staring into the pink glass of  Maerlyn's Grapefruit and witnessing my Susan’s final moments...how my young romantic heart was broken and emptied of love...ready to be filled with something else. But this time was very different, because I now bore witness with my naked eyes. I was now standing shoulder to shoulder with her killers, who I now wanted to put down like the rabid billybumblers they were...my broken empty heart now filled with hate! Once I was safely miles away looking through enchanted glass, now I was close enough to see her body turn to ash, close enough to smell the odors of smoke and burning flesh, close enough to feel the heat from the flames, close enough to hear her scream. It’s a very different experience to witness the death of your beloved from only a few yards away, when you are so close yet so powerless to stop it.

I had grown used to to seeing Susan die from miles away, but I couldn’t bear to see it happen so close...so I shamefully looked away. I tried to ignore my Susan tied to the charyou tree with a cheering crowd about to set the ground beneath her alight, turning my sights on the starry sky or something less horrible. I ended up spotting something perplexing, something I had not seen for a long time. Far from the mob and the charyou tree, near the edge of the town square was an object that couldn’t possibly be there...yet I was compelled to move toward it. The object in question was a freestanding section of decrepit white wall. It was about eight feet high and plastered with graffiti, mostly variations of the words FUCK and SHIT, along with a quote, “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” Dead center of the wall was a six and a half foot door made of dark wood, with a brass knob and matching key plate. As I got closer, I saw other details I recognized, near the top of the door was a crest etched into the wood...a skull with two criss crossed revolvers. Underneath the crest were words engraved into the wood…”The boy” and “The maiden of the lake” This did indeed “look” like the door that had been absent from my dreams for five long years.

I reached out and touched the door with my hand and felt the smooth texture of the polished wood...it was definitely there! But why was it there? Why after five years had it reappeared to me now? Before I could begin to contemplate the meaning of the door’s appearance in Hambry, I heard my Susan far behind me defiantly and proudly yell, “ROLAND I LOVE THEE!!” I spun around to see her deep within the flames, about to vanish forever.

I run toward her with every ounce of strength and speed in my body, my hand reaching for her. I had only two possibilities running through my mind, either I get her off that goddamned fire...or I burn with her! I shout through my own tears of sorrow, “SUSAN DON’T GO!!!”, but she can’t hear me. I come to an abrupt stop against the mass of flesh that was the mob when her final words cry out from the flames, “ROLAND I LOVE THEE!!!!” The inferno consumes her as I sob and scream like a grief stricken child. I shout at the top of my lungs, “SUSAN I LOVE THEE!!!” I kick, punch and shove my way through the mob, hopelessly reaching for the bonfire so I can touch her one last time. The fog of memory comes...then I wake up.

I rose from sleep with my hand still reaching for her and I scream out into the darkness, “SUSAN I LOVE THEE!!!!” After a brief moment of confusion and disorientation, I realized that I was not in Hambry watching her die. Nor was I in the willow grove making sweet love to her. I was in a rented bed in a cheap motel room in New York city that I had paid for a week earlier with a fake ID. After catching my breath and re acclimating to the waking world, I collapsed onto the pillow...and I cried for a full fifteen minutes. Then just when I thought I would cry myself dry, I slipped into a mercifully dreamless sleep from which I would not emerge until 8:30 the next morning. This had been my life every night for nine long months...my name is Ronny Gage and this is my story!    

[x-irememberyearsago-x]

You, little human Part. I – Derek Hale x Reader

Summary: Focused on season 3A of Teen Wolf. I'll play with the way the pack discovers who Darach is. In this imagine, the Reader is twin sister of Stiles Stilinski, belongs to the same social circle that he, except for the detail that she knows nothing of the supernatural creatures, mainly to protect her. The Reader has a crush on Derek Hale.

Words: 2721

Enjoy it!

Reader's point of view

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The dream scheme had not changed after two and a half weeks of living it. Luckily, every night was more aware that it was that, just a dream. It consisted of the same, a pair of red eyes gleamed among the trees; I was surrounded in the dark, always in my pajamas, my hair matted and barefoot. Lovely! I remember looking everywhere, looking for a way out, but everything was black, the full moon barely could light the path. And as always, I started running blind, if I hit trees, if I cut or something, I just didn’t feel it, because it was illogical to run without seeing and not hit anything, but, what was logical in a dream? This was finished when i finally stumbled over something and the two red balls became bigger. In the distance, the howling of an agonizing wolf was heard.

I woke up to the creak of the door opening. It still took me a few seconds to recover from the bad dream, always causing insomnia and a good headache at school. But, the door? Why would Dad leave at two in the morning? That was happening countless times, only if there was a real emergency in the police station, beyond the murders that were happening lately, nothing else happened, although that seemed enough to make the men with whom i lived unbearable. They seemed to be punished, from high school to home, Stiles took care of bringing me and then he left, so this time, I knew immediately who was entering.

"How long does it take you to get there? Are you dating someone? ... Oh, wait, you finally stopped being a virgin." I exclaimed in a mocking tone.

Stiles closed the door and snorted.

"As if you were not, sister." He hit back, I just shrugged.

"It's different." I finished down the stairs and joined him in the kitchen. "So, are you going to tell me that mysterious mystery that you bring?" I was excited to know something more; the town was beginning to bore me.

"There is no mysterious mystery"

"Then why come so late? Does Dad know? Come on, Stiles, I'm practically locked up at home because of you, I haven’t even gone shopping with Lydia, or seeing ...”

I shut up, but I blushed. Stiles stopped paying attention to the contents of the refrigerator and gave me an accusing look. Of course my love interest was a secret to my friends, no one could know, not even Dad. My brother and his best friend barely got away with it.

"See who, Y/N? So you also have a mysterious mystery. "He pointed a finger at me.

"AHA! So you admit that there is a mystery " Stiles came back to ignore me "Fine! Don’t tell me, I'll find out”

I turned around and went back to my room. Something was going to happen to me.

The disadvantage of having a twin brother right when I needed to find answers, is that we were in the same group, always sitting next to Scott, whom I planned to corner somehow to tell me that it was cooking, but is that Stiles, as If I knew my intentions, it would not go away. After I finished pointing out what was on the blackboard, I glanced at Lydia, and of course she had already finished and kept drawing something, too distracted to notice the heaviness in my eyes. I gave up on her and went for Allison, she wasn’t over yet, and she was too far away to capture her attention. I snorted and leaned back against the chair. Professor Blake kept checking previous papers. Carefully I took my phone and decided to take the risk by sending a message to Scott. Do you know what my brother is bringing? Of course I didn’t trust much, the loyalty between them was unbreakable. Scott McCall looked over his shoulder and shook his head. Liar.

At the end of the class, everyone left the classroom, I was the last, simply because I wanted to follow the others, see who I can catch, maybe Isaac, I could take double from him, although, now that he lives with Scott, Hesitated This locked cat would drive me crazy. When I left the room I lost sight of so many people, I sighed and leaned against the wall waiting for the answers to be projected in the lockers opposite. Maybe I should try with Lydia.

Ready to look for her, I looked up, finding that, in the opposite direction of the walk of my companions, Derek Hale was approaching. My stomach responded by squeezing and I found myself adjusting and putting my hair in vain. When he saw me, he smiled. Almost never did, but we had a good relationship, of friendship, of course. I couldn’t see it as a target for the unknowns that hovered in the air, since it was not so close to my friends.

"Derek" Why am I smiling like a fool?

"Y/N" He nodded in front of me, though I noticed that his gaze was over my shoulder than in my eyes, I tried not to get discouraged.

"What are you doing here?"

I wasn’t going to lie, in my fantasies, I always imagined Derek appearing in high school offering me a hope of escape for a few hours. However, he seemed too absorbed to make it come true. I tried not to feel bad about the fact that he felt he wanted to get rid of me easily.

"I came to ... visit a friend"

I struggled because my smile didn’t go away. He fixed his eyes above me again. I turned to the point of his gaze to meet Miss Blake, who also looked at my opponent.

"Derek" Her tone and joy sounded very adolescent. I began to feel nauseated. "Oh, do you know her?" She kept her smile. I had never felt aversion to Jennifer Blake until now.

"Yes" I tried not to sound so rude "I think I ... I don’t feel well"

I looked at Derek, his eyes on mine, and for a moment concern crossed his face. Well, at least I lived with the comfort that he cared about me.

"You want me to take you with the nurse, Y/N?" Blake took me by the shoulders.

"Do you need anything?" I wasn’t delighted with Derek's words.

"No, I'll be fine ... I just ... I think I'll look for Stiles"

I slipped away quickly, didn’t want to look back, the nausea would increase. My eyes began to itch. Derek Hale was dating someone, I wasn’t stupid, it was immediately noticeable, especially the teenage attitude of Jennifer Blake as she looked at him. For God's sake, I think I'm really going to vomit.

"Feeling good, Y/N?"

I didn’t realize that I ended up against the lockers hugging my book against my chest. Lydia came up to me.

"You're very pale." She touched my forehead but I pulled away.

"I'm fine." I trusted Lydia, maybe she was the only one who suspected my feelings, the others were busier in their mysteries to pay attention to me, not that I needed it. "You know ... if Derek is dating ... Miss Blake?" My friend's gesture was strange.

"Ew." She chuckled. No, she didn’t know.

"I'd better go home," I announced as I sat up. The last thing I wanted was to meet again with that couple.

"I'll take you, I just finished my classes"

I wasn’t surprised by Lydia's intellect. I accepted, especially since I didn‘t feel good for walking back.

 "You got to be kidding!"

I walked through my room while reading my brother's text message, used to talk to myself when he did this kind of things to me. That is, to go to school? Right now? However, it was too tempting what I would receive in exchange for going there, would tell me the secret that is in hand, I would finally add some excitement to my life in Beacon Hills, even if it was something silly, if it is something Slightly different, I'm in! I slipped on my shoes and practically ran out, taking my jacket in step. No one was at home, so I would save the explanations. I was practically violating the rules, but in the first place Stiles incited me to do so, and secondly, I wasn’t a hostage, if they wanted to keep me, dad had to keep me behind bars.

Running was a challenge, but I didn’t give up my step, the sooner I arrived, the faster I would know that mystery. Too curious. I remembered that I had to talk very seriously to the sheriff about having a car of my own; that Stiles kept my mom's Jeep was doing me something unfair. It was that or I could always bribe them with getting a motorcycle, I'd seen Aiden and Ethan's, too beautiful to get my attention. I wondered what it would feel like to ride in one of them. Yes, it would be the perfect excuse to worry my father and have a car insured. Soon.

The school was deserted, I was surprised not to see the Jeep anywhere, but knowing my twin, He had possibly hidden it so as not to be discovered. I was committing another offense, in addition to having left home unannounced, being in school outside of reasonable hours was strictly prohibited, but not so much, considering that they left the doors uninsured. I went in through the main; the corridors were dark and cold.

"Stiles?" I called aloud. I swore that if this was a joke to scare me off, tonight would suffocate him against the pillow while he sleeps.

I took shelter and started walking, it wasn’t normal this type of cold, unless someone left the ventilation open. Nothing was heard, not a breath, not even the movement of an object.

"Stiles?" I tried again, but no answer. "Okay, if this is a cruel joke, I swear you're going to wake up breathing under your pillow!"

My inside began to fear, but another part of me ignited the adrenaline and I kept walking, the school was terrifying but it managed to be more when there was not a soul wandering the halls, only mine, apparently. I looked out at one of the classrooms that had the door open; the low lighting allowed me to see that there was nobody. I decided that it was better to leave and torture my brother as soon as he appeared in the house, in my mind I imagined him tied to a chair, torture, i had to think about it. Then my phone rang, the screen lit the name of my twin.

"Finally!"

"Where are you, Y/N?" I concentrated on hearing his voice echo, but nothing. I shuddered.

"What do you mean, where am I? At school, right where you asked me to come." I looked around.

"I didn’t ask you for anything"

"Stop, you sent me a message that I came here and you would reveal your mystery to me"

In his line, i heard the Jeep door slam shut.

"I just got my phone back; I haven’t had it for two hours." I felt a chill on my back. "Okay, okay, calm down."  I heard him get on the jeep and start, "Stay there, I'll pick you up ... no ... Better run ... no, don’t move ...”

"Stiles!" His anxiety began to spread.

"Run!"

And as a sign I obeyed, however, a force pulled me from behind and threw me into the classroom I had previously reviewed. My phone fell a few feet away, I heard Stiles call me but when I wanted to reach him, a shoe crushed it. I stepped back from inertia and when I looked up, I discovered Miss Blake staring at me from above.

"Miss Blake?" She didn’t keep the day-to-day look she gave us, and the smile was different, evil, mocking. I began to fear her.

"Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t it, Y/N?" She walked up to lock the door and turned slowly to me. I stood up.

"Why I‘m here?"

"Little innocent" She laughed "You were too predictable with your feelings for Derek. Even he realized”

I swallowed and blushed, he notice?

"Am I here for Derek?" I never imagined getting stuck in a fight for a boy. It was kind of nasty and vulgar. I didn’t plan to start this, or to follow her game.

Miss Blake shrugged.

"In part." She pursed her lips before displaying her teeth. "You're their sweet, vulnerable human, you'll lure the whole pack, especially Scott McCall."

"Pack?" What the hell was this woman talking about?

"Oh, you don’t have the role of the ignorant, beautiful." In seconds she held me tightly and threw me against the desks. I let out a gasp as i hugged my ribs with my arm, she seemed to know exactly where to throw me, "Your brother is a simple human, like you, but he belongs to Scott's pack"

"What ... are you ... talking?" I said between groans.

"Don’t you know?" It seemed that she really believed me "Your dear brother is surrounded by werewolves and a lunatic banshee"

I leaned against a desk to slowly stand up. What was she trying to play with? Did she do this out of jealousy?

"I don’t know…"

I stopped when I saw her approaching, my hands flew to a chair, as soon as I got close, I used all the strength I allowed myself to hit her. Jennifer stepped back, i  didn’t waste time and ran out of the room. I felt a bit dazed by the blow and the corridors were moving in circles, it was the worst time for me to start getting dizzy. The brute force of that woman threw me against the lockers, I stood again, I was only a human as she said but I wasn’t going to fall into fragility. I didn’t go very far when she pushed me again. I sat on the floor, I couldn’t continue to think that the dizziness was more pronounced and I began to see blur.

Then a roar, no, several echoed in the hallway, I put my hands to my ears and blinked several times, I needed to recover my vision to see what the hell was going on. At last I succeeded, a few meters from me, two men turned their backs on me and faced Jennifer, crouched, roared again, this time not so strong and they went on top of her. I tried to get to my feet but a piercing pain pierced my body, which I sank back to the floor with a groan.

"I’m here." I recognized Stiles's voice at my side.

Looking back at the area of ​​attack, I saw one of them fly away landing at my feet, Isaac? With a transformed face. I complained again, he ignored us and returned to where the fight was unfolding. Scott? Was he the other boy? Was it Scott? I didn’t want to ask. Stiles made sure I could get up, but another sharp pang hit me.

"It hurts a lot." I closed my eyes tightly.

"Let me help her." I heard his voice. I wanted to see it, and the first thing I caught was his transformed face, just like Isaac's, and glittering blue eyes stuck in mine.

Derek.

I recoiled against my pain, sticking my back against the lockers.

"It’s okay; Y/N" I was encouraged by my brother "Takehis hand"

I obeyed, concentrating on Derek's arm, where black veins began to set, slowly the pain began to fade, the reminder was still in my body, but it was bearable. I sighed in relief.

"She escaped," Scott announced. He and Isaac approached. Before my eyes, their faces returned to normal. And Derek's too.

I held a cry. What was happening? Was this all real or was i already hallucinating?

"Scott, you and Isaac looking for her trail. Stiles and I took care of Y / N”

I was able to take the opportunity to speak, to demand explanations, but my head didn’t give more and my conscience much less.

[cyberneticslasher]

More of that oc story no one asked for

Info on characters here: https://soultech-industries.deviantart.com/

Chapter 2

It was exactly 12p.m. when it occurred. The night's wind blew across the lands causing trees to shake, autumn leaves to stir around and made the mildly old house creek as the moon was bright and full, the air was filtered with dampness and was shrouded in a mist of anger and a crackling dread of evil washed over it. Something evil happened or occurred here..but not yet.

Why was the man standing there ominously with a combat knife at his side was beyond anyone at the current time but for you to understand his actions you’d have to understand his thoughts first.

‘I hate this place...why am I here?’ the man thought to himself looking at the house a few feet away from him, looking down at the knife violent memories flashed by, voices screaming and past pain flashed through him and it made him so angry. He could’ve been better but he couldn’t, his past ruined his future, it tainted it. He griped the knife tighter as red blurred his vision. ‘Why didn’t I do something? I could’ve done something..I could be different, so very different. I could beloved.’ he thought to himself before glancing back at the house before every muscle in him burned with adrenaline, blood pounded in his ears and the scent of imaginary blood tainted the air.

The sound of footsteps crunching leaves echoed against the trees. ‘The knife...what about the knife?’ a more logical voice spoke in his mind as a subconsciously checked what was in his hand. It was still there, but could he really walk in there with it out? ‘No..’ he responded to himself as he placed it back in the sheath on his hip. So many emotions swirled in him, was he thinking logically or was it all impulsive emotions, it was to blurry to see the line between the two. He bent down and removed the dainty old doormat that said ‘Home Sweet Home.’

“Disgusting lying  vile trash.” he growled out loud before tossing it to the side and picking up the key. Anxiety raced through his body as he slid the key into the lock and quietly turned it, ears keen on the loud click it made when the door was unlocked. He opened the door and slipped in the house. ‘Why am I doing this?’ he asked himself again almost quivering in tension yet once again he answered with the same thing, ‘I could be better if they didn’t hurt me.’

More agonizing memories flashed by as he looked at familiar objects, it's all still the same, almost as nothing has changed. As he slowly made his way weaving through objects he tripped over something faceplanting into the coffee table and causing a loud crashing noise to echo through the house. Trying to recover from the fall the taste of iron itched the back of his throat. He stood up slowly and as the rustling of someone getting out of bed reached his ears he placed a gloved hand at his nose, removing it the sticky hot substance stained and dripped everywhere triggering even worse emotions. A light caught his eyes and once again the trembling feeling grasped his muscles and he tenesed up as the candle light finally reached him and a figure stood before him a few feet away. A look of horror crossed her face and then anger flashed through easily changing the regret the man felt to frustration. The woman almost yelled her words out but still groggy from sleep they were more slurred but hatred seeped through.

“What in the hell are you doing here Edward?”

There it was, the thing he feared most still, he couldn’t speak oddly but had the dumbfounded face of a deer caught in headlights.

“What? Are you not gonna answer you worthless amount of space?”

She hissed at him again and he flinched, ‘I'm so much older now, why am I still so afraid of her?’

“Did you come back because you’re such a nasty gross human being that you can’t even support yourself?”

He still refused to answer and the result of silence from him made her advance toward him raising a hand to slap him. Something possessed his next action. He reached at her raised hand and grabbed her wrist grasping it tightly getting a satisfied yelp of pain from her.

He twisted her wrist and pushed her back against the wall pinning her there. The hand that held the candle flew towards Edward and the flame and candlestick landed on his face and chest. Immediately it caught flame and he backed off of her howling in pain. It burned, it burned so bad he could feel it burning his skin. He quickly brushed off the goo from the candle as fury burned through him. The candle fell on the wooden floor catching fire and it quickly spreaded.

He turned back around to face the woman and fear lashed her face as she saw the damage the candle had done to his face. Everything was burning, smoke billowed up in the house and ashes floated everywhere but none of it burned as strong as the amount of hatred that grew in Edward. Quickly he grasped her by the neck and slammed her against the wall again, swiftly he whipped the knife out, gripping it tightly he spoke, “I could have been so much better than you, I could be loved if it wasn’t for you. I could have been so much happier without you.” He growled before pushing the knife into her stomach and twisted it.

“This is your fault,” he whispered and paused before twisting even further,” i don’t forgive you and I never loved you.”

He pulled the knife out and let her body hit the floor. By now the fire had consumed 70% of the house, and burned most of his clothes and skin. Reality finally kicked in and he coughed up the smoke and blood. Blood was everywhere and it dripped off his knife almost soothingly.

He stepped through the fire and left the area, Rain began to drizzle on him and the fire causing the world to be wet and hazy. He stumbled towards SoulTech, but why?

He was drenched in rain and the blood was drying and mostly rinsed off. He put the keycode in and pushed the door open entering the building. Where was he going?

Alan bolted up quickly upon hearing the crash of thunder..and..was that footsteps?

He stood up stretching and yawning before rubbing his eyes and scratching the stubble on his chin.

“I must’ve fell asleep and no one decided to wake me up.” He said outloud concluding his situation before hearing the footsteps getting closer and the tantalizing scent of blood and smoke crossed his senses. Curious he followed the trail until approaching the center of the fifth floor. Across the room and near the reception desk of this floor was a figure standing and walking almost robotically.

‘Is that Edward?’ He thought to himself approaching the figure.

“Edward?” Alan called out cautiously as he stepped closer and his shoe made a squelching noise. Grossed out he looked down and saw that he stepped in a mixture of blood and water. He looked back up and saw that Edward kept on walking away. Frustrated and curious Alan stepped quickly towards Edward and he placed a hand on Edward's shoulder to stop him, “Edward what hap-” Alan was quickly cut off as he was greeted with a gloved hand to the face and was pushed down before a foot landed on his chest winding him.

His vision was blurred ad before he could explain himself a hot slice of pain ripped through him as a knife was wedged into his shoulder blade and chest. In agony Alan yelled and grabbed Edward’s foot and pushing it off his chest. Successfully unbalancing Edward he fell over and Alan jumped up to his feet as his breath grew shallow. He looked at his shoulder as blood oozed out before looking back at Edward who was slowly getting back up.

“Edward..I don’t want to hurt you.” Alan said clutching his shoulder and stepping away from the man who was slowly advancing towards him. ‘Nononono this can’t be happening. I can’t let this happen’ Alan thought to himself still backing away before bumping into the desk, ‘Dammit.’ He looked back at Edward who was only a few steps away from him.

“I mean it Edward...I don’t wish to hurt you.” He grunted the last words out before grabbing his shoulder tighter, the knife almost felt like it was pulsing inside the wound but he couldn’t tear it out. Alan lurched forward as his breath grew quicker, it hurt so bad, the transformation brought so much pain. His senses tingled and burned furiously as he balled up tightly trying to stop what had started. He yanked the knife out throwing it in front of him and Edward grabbed it. Alan lowly growled before hunching over, as bones snapped to tale a new shape and hair sprouted all over his body. He grasped the floor as his nails turned to claws and dug into the tile scrapping it. His skull elongated and his ears grew longer painfully he growled as the transformation almost finished but once again the knife was delved into the same puncture hole but this time Edward twisted it causing even more pain to Alan. Swiftly Alan's clawed hand grabbed Edward's forearm and Alan pushed himself up on wobbly legs, taller now he leaned down and glared into Edward’s eyes yet no fear or registration of what was infront of him crossed,He growled before twisting Edward’s arm causing him to groan in pain and twist his neck to look at what was hurting him. Jaws open wide, Alan went to snap at Edward but the alarm of Police sirens ringed in Alan’s sensitive ears and he reared back letting go of Edward and tripping over the desk he fell backwards landing on his tailbone before passing out.

Whipping his head towards the sound, Edward heard the sound of footsteps rushing up the steps as sunlight began to seep into the room he began to realize  what he had caused and wake up from his haze. He quickly ran away from the stairs and ran towards the employee elevator. Pushing in the code he got in and pressed the 1st floor button.

Chapter 3

Skrill woke up to the sound of the TV as the new’s blared station interrupted the channel to report some sort of incident. Groggily, Skrill sat up rubbing his eyes and the back of his neck as it was horribly stiff from the position he was sleeping in. He glanced at the TV when he heard them mention SoulTech.

“Soultech was attacked last night at approximately four in the morning, the attacker is unknown and police are still exploring the scene, traces of the suspect are scarce. The only person injured was an employee under the name Alan Direheart, apparently he was wounded by what doctors say was a stabbing wound severing the tissue and nerves to the brain rendering it useless. As for more news a murder occurred just before the attack on SoulTech.

53 year old Alexis was murdered in her own home by what seems to be an arson attack. She was burned to death and little remains of the scene. Police are assuming she was killed by the fire but light traces of stabbing wounds can be found on the corpse, information is scarce and many investigators believe the incidents are somehow linked-”

Skrill quickly got up and adjusted his suit that he sadly still had on. Fixing the wrinkles he grabbed his phone and rushed out of the apartment rushing down the stairs and quickly hopping into his car, luckily he had enough gas to get there which was surprising for the fact that he hardly ever drove. His car started up nicely, he raked his mind trying to remember what type it was before remembering it was an Aston martin vulcan. He drove towards the hospital and called Victor to find information on what had happened and if Alan was ok.

“Arson, murder, and assault in in night and the idiots in the law office rather play with themselves the accepting what Alan has repeated over 20 times.” Victor growled under his breath as he and Skrill hung outside off Alan's hospital room. The situation made Skrill feel horribly sick and worried. Alan had agree to Skrills offer way to eagerly and he already had undergone surgery for the robotic arm. Surprisingly when the police found Alan he wasn't transformed anymore but his suit was horribly ripped and ruined.

“I still find it hard to believe a mortal could do all this damage in one night Victor.” Skrill said out loud as he paced back and forth.Victor opened his mouth to respond but a nurse had opened the door and spoke in a forcibly sweet tone, “You two can come in and visit him but he's still wearing off of the effects of the anesthetics.” before she rushed off.

Victor looked at Skrill intrigued by what had gotten up her skirt but Skrill ignored it and opened the door and entered the room. Alan was sitting up on the hospital bed looking intrigued by his new arm but before Skrill could ask Alan how he was feeling he glanced at victor and proudly stated, “The first thing i touched with this hand was a nurse’s ass and I feel accomplished.” He grinned evilly before looking at Skrill who disapprovingly looked back at Alan’s.

“What? She thought I was still under with the drugs they gave me so I took my chance. It was a golden opportunity.” Alan said trying to explain himself to Skrill before getting a small chuckle out of the demon.

“Alright alright Alan, I understand, I’m just surprised you’re in such a good mood after being attacked and losing your arm.”

Almost immediately Alan’s smile was wiped off of his face and he looked really gloomy and Skrill was taken back.

“Oh...Alan I’m sorry I shouldn't have brought it up.” Skrill said trying to apologize but Alan ignored him.

“You should have listened to me Skrill...he was bad news..I knew it from the start…” Alan sniffled as he crossed his arms acting like a two year old.

“Look, Alan, I should have listened to you and I'm sorry for not. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything to make you feel better.” Skrill said looking at Alan desperately looking for Alan to cheer up or at least register that he was listening to him.

“Give me the week off and get me out of this damned hospital and I’ll let it pass.” Alan responded in a serious tone. Skrill winced at his request but agreed to it and held his hand out to make to the deal official.

Log code: 0263 Subject 68

Day 28,

Recent results show the test subject 68, or labeled name Credence to be a successful combination of Werewolf and Vampire. So far results are promising although subject has a tendency of severe aggression and has killed 20% of the recent test subjects and any androids/GuardBots that get in it's way. KIlling the Subject would be good for survival of other test subjects but the results and rewards this beast can bring is to valuable.

Today we have injected more of the serum and the transformation wa grotesquely complete, Boss will be very excited to hear this news.

More information will be described in next Vlog.

Signed,

Dr. Draegan Tenebris

[yuanamarryme]

Getting Luna - Grace's side of the story

I never really REALLY wanted a dog. I was content with my share of childhood pets - dozens of rabbits, hundreds of fishes, and a kitten. I didn't even mention the pheasants, rooster and chicken, turtles, and no I did not grow up on a farm. We had a lot of animals growing up and I do remember being sad in my middle school years crying in the corner of my backyard while holding my rabbit thinking he was pretty comforting, I guess like a puppy... LOL. Mental note to self - pets are good for kids. Point aside, we had a lot of animals and taking care of all of them was a lot of work. I still can remember my mom telling me and my sisters to go clean the fish tank and to go feed the rabbits. My sister Becky really wanted a dog, but my mom told her we wouldn't get one until the rabbits were gone. Well rabbits in good care can live for over a decade and as my sisters and I grew up and out of the house, so did the dream of getting a dog. My mom also developed an allergy to dogs over the years and said we would all get it too. First of all, my mom is always right, even if you try to resist her ideas. Once she said it, it was true. It's like she's commanding it to happen. Second of all, both my mom and I have really really painfully bad allergies and so that on top of all of the work that needed to go into taking care of a dog = no thanks, not interested. I'll pet your dog (and then make sure to wash my hands right after) and puppy-sit but that's it. On the flip side, Steven loves dogs. See his about me, point #1. Steven is a doge. When he sees another doge, his ears perk up and he gets excited. Everything else fades away, such as our conversation at the time, and it's like the clouds open up and a ray of light shines upon said doge, with heavenly music playing in the background. Yeah. I really don't understand how some people are SO in love with dogs. Some of my first few co-workers at Yelp were dog-crazy. They would stop strangers in the city, asking to pet their average-not-so-cute* dogs in my opinion. I remember thinking that I would never do that. They would share and gush over pictures of average-not-so-cute dogs. When they shared the pictures with me I would respond with something like "....oh... aww...cute..."  Yeah. Steven's one of those dog lovers. Steven's dream is to have a dog, but I have always been verbally against it. I would tell him that we would never get a dog, probably hoping to ingrain this idea in his head. I did have a small feeling that having a dog might be possible one day, maybe when we lived in a bigger house. I guess in the back of my mind, I knew we would eventually get a dog, but even I didn't want to admit it. *cute dogs to me, historically, are puppies, or grown dogs that still look like puppies. This may or may not be starting to change. Then came Luna. The backstory is that I would browse on Craigslist from time to time to see what the market was for Shiba Inus. They don't show up as much and are expensive so I just wanted to see if there were any, maybe in case the right dog would come along? Side note - I didn't think Shiba Inus were cute and in the past I had only seen listings for adult Shiba-Inus looking to be re-homed because they were too stubborn and their owners didn't want them anymore. Anyways, as you know, Luna's ad and picture pops up and I immediately knew that I wanted her and specifically her. The logical, reasonable side of me asked "should we really get a dog?" and my reply to myself was something along the lines of "you go and browse online to see if there might be the right dog that could be the exception, that fits what you're looking for... and now you find one. This is probably that dog and this is probably that moment." And before I could decide what to do, Steven had already texted the seller and the seller replied that Luna was available. When I heard this, that's when I really REALLY wanted to get her! I couldn't believe that the dog I pointed at was still available! The next two days of texting and waiting for the seller was pretty agonizing for the both of us. He was really slow to respond. At work, all I could think about was possibly getting Luna. I told three of my co-workers, separately, that I "might" get a dog this weekend, and told them not to tell anyone because it might not happen at all. I also didn't want to tell my family because again 1. It might not happen at all, and 2. My mom would tell me that I have bad allergies. Each time I told another co-worker, they got excited which got me even more excited! Steven on the other hand was trying very hard not to let his hopes up. Every time I mentioned Luna or hypothetical dog scenarios like taking Luna on bart or into the office, he would say "no, I can't even think about that yet. I don't want to get my hopes up." Lol. ... Getting Luna. Steven and I got to PetSmart first, where we had agreed to meet the seller. I stared at this loooooong aisle of dog treats, dental chews, and dog food. This was about to be a regular part of my life, I thought to myself. Then I heard the door slide open. I stared at the shelf a few seconds longer intentionally, before turning my head. It was the seller and he was holding Luna! I said hi and before I knew it, he plopped Luna into my hands. My first thought? She looks older than her (cute) puppy pictures... haha what can I say. That is pretty typical me :P However she was so soft. The seller said she was a little cold and Luna was shaking, probably a mixture of both being cold and also scared. I had envisioned this moment of Steven being the first one to hold Luna, after all, he is the dog lover. But he was too busy browsing around the store with a cart full of items for his future pup. Wow, we were getting a dog. The seller stuck around to help us get items for Luna. You could tell he really really loves his dogs and wanted to make sure that all of the puppies were going to good homes. After that he said goodbye to Luna one last time and we parted ways. Luna was in the backseat with me in my lap and Steven was driving. Luna was quiet, still shaking a bit. I wrapped my sweater over her, thinking this is something I would never do to a dog (re: allergies (aka I would never sacrifice my clean sweater to a dog, yet alone a dog that sheds)), but I wanted her to not be cold. She stopped shaking after that and we began our long drive home. Wow, we got a dog. Thirty minutes later, we stop by Taco Bell to grab a bite. Thirty minutes after that, Steven is getting sleepy so I offer to switch. However, when I start driving, Steven is not sleeping. He is playing with Luna. I think know he just wanted to play with her haha. She starts shaking again since Steven's jacket wasn't really cuddly or warm. I instinctively take my sweater off for him to wrap Luna and realize that Luna is already changing me. When we finally get home, it's midnight. We do not have a dog bed for Luna. We do not have a cage. I was feeling very unprepared and a little anxious for the first night. What if she pees all over our newly remodeled house? Also again, I wasn't sure how my allergies were going to act up. But what really gave me peace was when I saw Luna playing with Steven. She was still shy but she was slowly warming up, wagging her little tail and happily licking his face (see third picture below). Steven was in pure bliss that his puppy dreams had come true. That's when I knew that this was all meant to be... we have a dog! PS - Luna's first night with us was GREAT! We slept on the living room couch and she slept on a pillow on the floor next to us. (The next few days after that was not as great haha... more on that later).