#chapter 6: a flock of crows

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter 6: A Flock Of Crows

featuring art by the wonderful golden-trash-panda ♥️

Glyphs may not work in the human realm, but witches and palismen retain their magic wherever they go, so in an effort to help out with expenses and supplies, Amity, Willow, and Gus have been putting their magical education to good use and practicing what little they've learned about replication spells. So far, there's been very little progress, only managing a half-materialized sandwich that crumbles to dust seconds later, or managing to get the cloned object to look like a sandwich, only to have it taste like abomination goo, dirt and grass, or, in Gus's case, absolutely nothing, because it's just an illusion.

Until one day in mid-October, Gus successfully replicates Amity's concealment stone (which she'd luckily thought to take with her) magical qualities and all. He shows Amity and Willow how he did it (after all, it requires someone skilled in illusion magic, since that's essentially what a concealment stone is) and together, they each successfully perform their own replications, giving them five concealment stones — one each for Amity, Willow, Gus, Hunter, and Vee (because shapeshifting to keep up with her human form can get exhausting.) Now, everyone can conceal their pointed witches' ears without having to rely on hats or headphones! 

This also comes in handy when they decide they want to go all out and dress up for Halloween.

Autumn is in full swing in the human realm, bringing with it cooler weather, cozy atmospheres, and most importantly, Luz's favorite holiday: Halloween. The demon realm doesn't really have Halloween, given that they're kind of living the aesthetic 24/7, so the Hexsquad is intrigued as they listen to Luz gush about all her favorite things about spooky season.

They're walking around town together, marveling at the change in scenery — in little over a month, the world around them has gone from lush greenery and golden sunlight to misty gray mornings and bright, fiery hues of red, orange, and yellow. Hunter walks along between Gus and Willow, delighting in the satisfying crunch the leaves make under his sneakers. He doesn't know why, but he has the strongest urge to gather them all up into a big pile and leap head-first into it. He's thinking about suggesting the idea to Willow and Gus, when Luz says something that catches his attention, banishing all other thoughts from his head.

"…and then the neighbors give you free candy," she concludes, while Amity nods sagely like she's listening in on a very important lecture.

"Free candy?" Gus and Hunter echo in unison, earning them a sigh from Willow that's half-fond, half-exasperated.

You see, the two of them have become little sugar fiends since they started living in the human realm. The demon realm has its own variety of candy, of course, but human realm junk food just hits different, maybe because it doesn't have nearly as many restrictions or regulations as demon realm junk food, making it far less healthy and thus far more appealing to their taste buds. And without a constant source of supervision to keep them all in line (listen, Camila does her best, but working long hours and looking after six kids is exhausting, she can't always keep track of everything) they've gone a little wild.

You'd think they would've learned their lesson after the dozen sundaes incident, wherein the two of them snuck into the kitchen late one night to raid the fridge and managed to eat their way through twelve bowls of ice cream, only to throw it all up a few minutes later and try to hide it with an illusion until they could figure out how to work a vacuum cleaner, which they mistook for some kind of fancy human realm mop, and then proceeded to break — but alas, the sugar addiction is just too strong.

"And what exactly do we have to do in order to obtain this free candy?" Gus asks, arching a plotting eyebrow.

"I'm glad you asked," Luz replies with a mischievous smile, leading them through the entryway of a shop decked out from top to bottom in Halloween decorations. All at once, five sets of eyes grow wide with wonder.

Gus goes wild for all the realistic-looking decorations, the bloodier the better (though he adamantly avoids the section with clown costumes.) He and Hunter make a game out of trying on the most gruesome masks they can find and jumping out from around corners to try and scare each other, dissolving into fits of laughter every time because really? This is what passes for scary in the human realm? Most of these masks are just faces in a regular Tuesday crowd at the Bonesborough Marketplace.

In the end, it's Willow who manages to win their impromptu little game of hide, seek, and scare when she finds a bright red plastic pitchfork, hides behind a rack of devil's costumes, and pokes an unsuspecting Hunter right in his invaluable assets, causing him to yelp and blush brighter than a set of devil's horns when he turns around and sees her beaming at him through a set of plastic vampire teeth, cackling like a pantomime villain.

"Muahahahaha! I am a creature of the night and you are my unsuspecting catch!" she shouts, giggling madly as she bounds up to Hunter and wraps her arms around his shoulders in a tackle hug. "And with my razor-sharp teeth, I shall bite your neck and turn you into a vampire just like me!"

But because she's about a head shorter than him, Willow ends up tugging Hunter a little too close to her face, and in the sudden impact, Hunter stumbles, shivering as he feels her lips accidentally brush against the side of his neck. Before he knows it, he's instinctively tilting his head back to grant her even more access, mumbling a soft, eagerly accepting, "Okay."

Willow freezes, uttering a soft surprised little oh the moment her lips make contact with Hunter's neck, pulse jumping like a staccato beneath his skin. She abruptly pulls back, eyes wide, cheeks flushed a sunburnt shade of pink.

"Um…gotcha! Ha! Now you're a vampire too!" she exclaims, voice squeaking an octave higher than its usual register as she slaps a pair of plastic glow-in-the-dark vampire teeth down in the palm of his hand and turns to run away, toppling over several dozen bins filled with fake plastic swords and pitchforks as she bolts to the front of the store. Meanwhile, Hunter is left standing there, staring after her, fingertips smoothing over the spot on his neck where her lips had just been.

It takes him a little while to make his way back to the front of the store (Gus literally has to drag him out of his trance) where he finds Willow fawning over a selection of funky patterned socks and tights, trying to decide whether she wants the ones with the little bats or the little fear gourds.

"Those are pumpkins, Willow," Luz laughs from the other side of the display, choosing a pair of purple and white striped socks to match her favorite sweatshirt.

"No, Luz. Trust me. They're fear gourds, and if you're not careful, the little light inside will steal your soul," Willow warns, deadly serious frown flickering to a bright, cheerful grin as she adds, "Aren't they just adorable?"

"Oh, Hunter. Hi!" Willow exclaims, cheeks taking on a soft pink hue as her gaze lingers a little longer than necessary on Hunter's neck. "Which pair do you think I should get — the fear gourds or the little black bats?"

"You would look cute in literally any of them," he blurts without thinking, startling a snort of laughter out of Gus.

Willow arches her eyebrows in surprise, blush deepening to a bright cherry tomato.

"Uh— I just mean— the socks are cute, so by that logic, you would look cute wearing— um— fuck," Hunter falters, suddenly becoming very interested in a Little Red Riding Hood costume on a higher-up rack, only to realize it's one of the scantily-clad options in the adults-only section, and dashes down the opposing aisle with a mortified yelp.

Gus watches the whole catastrophe unfold, doubled over with laughter, while Luz and Amity exchange an entire conversation with an increasingly giddy Willow using just their eyebrows.

In the end, Willow decides on a completely different pair that she finds last-minute — bright green with glittering golden stripes. She doesn't know why, but the combination of those two colors just looks really nice together.

From there, Luz introduces them to all things caramel apple and pumpkin spice, taking them to Robin's Roast to try the newest holiday flavors. After that, she takes them to the little candle shop in town so they can smell all the holiday scented candles…which Gus and Hunter both attempt to eat, despite Luz's several warnings — "Been there, my dudes. Trust me, it is not worth the stomach ache. Just because it smells good, doesn't mean it tastes good."

Gus still ends up taking a bite of one labeled Blueberry Pancakes, and gets asked to leave by the store owner — "Look, if they didn't want us to eat it, then they shouldn't have named it after human food."

Hunter backs him up, confessing that he was about two seconds away from trying to drink one labeled Coffee Shop because it smelled exactly like the inside of Robin's Roast, and the only thing deterring him were the lit wicks.

On the walk back home, toasty cups of salted caramel cocoa, spiced apple cider, and pumpkin spice coffee clutched in their hands, they debate what they should all dress up as for Halloween, Luz exclaiming that she's always wanted to do a group cosplay, but never had friends who wanted to before now. Vee already has plans with Masha and her friends from summer camp (who, luckily for Vee, ended up being totally cool about the whole basilisk thing) which leaves the rest of them trying to decide what will best fit a group of five.

They've been spending a lot of their Saturday mornings watching old cartoons from the 90's and early 2000's, everyone huddled together on the living room couch with clinking spoons and cereal bowls clutched in their hands, fighting over who gets the last of the Captain Crispy — and after much debate, they decide to dress up as the characters from Avatar: The Last Airbender. 

Then, of course, comes the debate over who should be who.

"Hunter is Zuko," Luz decides, pointing a half-chewed plastic coffee stirrer in his direction. "Bad but sad boy with a secret soft marshmallow center. You're basically Gen Z's Zuko, so it fits."

"I have no idea what that means, but I accept," Hunter says, arching an eyebrow in confusion, but looking pleased at having been assigned his favorite character.

"Luz should be Aang," Willow suggests. "The Avatar could wield all four elements, and Luz was the first Hexside student to study all nine tracks."

"And because she's also an uncontainable ball of energy," Hunter jokes, dodging Luz's playful kick to the shins.

"Gus should be Sokka," Hunter suggests a moment later, stepping into stride beside his honorary little brother.

"Because my first girlfriend also turned into the moon?" Gus retorts with a cheeky smile, eyebrows arched in amusement.

"That's rough, buddy," Hunter quips back in a solid impression of Zuko, and Gus laughs, holding out his fist so Hunter can meet him halfway for their special handshake.

"Willow should be Toph, because they're both adorable badasses who can manipulate nature," Amity chimes in, and Willow beams back at her.

"While all of that is true," Hunter interjects. "I think Willow should be Katara."

"But if I'm Aaang, then Amity needs to be Katara, because then it can also be a couples' costume," Luz asserts, smiling brightly as she holds up their entwined hands.

"Ugh," Hunter scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Oh no, here we go again," Amity groans.

"That ending didn't make any sense!" Hunter explodes. "Zuko and Katara had way more chemistry. They're the ones who should've ended up together!"

"But Aang liked Katara from the very beginning," Luz argues back. "And Zuko started out as their enemy!"

"Says the captain of the SS Heczura," Hunter retorts. "Enemies to friends to lovers is a classic trope, you can't just—"

"I'm staying out of this shipping war," Gus laughs, linking arms with Willow and Amity and striding ahead while the Kataang vs. Zutara die-hards bicker behind them.

"Yeah, last time the furniture got involved," Amity giggles, remembering the epic couch cushion battle that had ensued after they'd finished watching the finale and Luz and Hunter had found themselves on opposite sides of the shipping war.

Willow merely hums in response, a furious blush creeping into the tips of her ears as she replays the last few minutes of the conversation, musing over all the unspoken implications. If Hunter is Zuko, and Hunter thinks Willow should be Katara, and Hunter thinks Zuko and Katara should be together…

"You okay, Willow?" Gus asks, peering over at her with a teasing smirk. "You're looking a little red there."

"Oh, I'm fine," Willow squeaks. "I'm just, uh…feeling a little overheated, that's all." Which isn't entirely a lie.

"Fire nation getting a little too hot for you?" Gus retorts, snorting with laughter as one of Willow's vines comes up to playfully smack him across the back of the head.

In the end, Luz wins the battle by playing the ultimate wild card: canon. So, on Halloween night, all five of them activate their concealment stones — Luz borrows Vee's, since she won't be needing it to win the costume contest at the Old Gravesfield Halloween Festival in her hyper-realistic basilisk "costume" — giving them all the costumes and makeup of their chosen characters without ever having to spend a dime, and head out into the night, lapping the neighborhood until the sky turns from a hazy blood orange sunset to a misty sapphire blue, running through clouds of fake fog and exclaiming excitedly over the neighbors' decorations.

"Oh come on, you got a full-sized Milky Way and mine is only bite-sized," Luz whines, jealous of Hunter's latest haul as the five of them head back home, exhausted but happy, pillowcases filled to the brim with free candy. "I'll trade you for my Three Musketeers!"

"Pfft, like I would downgrade from caramel to nougat," Hunter scoffs, giving Luz a playful shove as she tries to make a grab for it.

As they make their way back to the house, they pass under a collection of power lines, where at least a dozen crows are perched like little blips in a heart monitor, eyeing up their shiny candy wrappers like they'll make the perfect treasures for their nests.

"Kinda crazy how the crows here are just regular birds," Willow remarks, looking up at them with a nostalgic smile. "You can't use them to make calls or anything."

"Yeah, I won't be making that mistake again," Hunter says, shuddering at the memory.

"Did you know that in the human realm, a flock of crows is called a murder?" Gus says conversationally, and Hunter can't help but smile. It's nice, no longer being the only one who spouts random fun facts he learned during a research rabbit hole.

"That's really cool," he says encouragingly, falling into step beside Gus. "What about a group of—"

But before he can even think of another creature to ask about, Luz comes whizzing past him, snagging the full-sized Milky Way out of his unsuspecting hands and racing up the street, cackling maniacally. 

"Excuse me, I have to go commit a flock of crows," he says, taking off after Luz at lightning speed and wrestling the (now smushed) candy bar out of her hands.

In the end, it hardly matters, because they all end up sharing their haul anyway, dumping pillowcases full of chocolates, caramels, hard candies, and sour gummies out onto the living room floor and splitting everything between them as they queue up Luz-approved Halloween classics Hocus Pocus and The Nightmare Before Christmas with Camila and Vee.

Hunter falls asleep with his face tucked against Willow's shoulder, despite the fact that there weren't actually any scary scenes to hide from in the first place — but hey, Willow's not complaining.

Elements of this chapter were inspired by this tumblr post by lemkid. Captain Crispy is a reference from Pages Remain by lollytea.

✨ Read Next Chapter | Chapter Masterlist ✨

Being Human

The Owl House » Huntlow

Title: Being Human

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: The Owl House (Masterlist)

Relationship: Hunter | The Golden Guard x Willow Park

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: A slice of life series following the Hexsquad's adventures in the human realm over the course of a single year — a little bit of angst sprinkled in between lots of warm fuzzy found family fluff, humor, and slow burn huntlow romance.

What will they think of him when they find out what he is, after everything he's done, after everything they've already had to forgive him for? Gus, who makes him feel simultaneously protected and protective — the closest thing to a brother that Hunter has ever had (and didn't know he'd wanted until it was already his.) Willow, who— Willow, whose smile managed to warm his insides before he could even take one bite of the soup she just set down in front of him. Willow, who makes him feel everything, all at once.  Happy. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Vulnerable. Safe.  Like he's free-falling off the top of the Knee, heart racing like he's running for his life, and yet…somehow, he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that when he finally lands, something soft will be there to break his fall.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1 » Chapter 2 » Chapter 3 » Chapter 4 » Chapter 5 » Chapter 6

[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Chapter 6: Murder at Work

Chapter summary: You go to work and consider the implications of your attic filled with swords

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter below the cut :)

You don’t have time to really unpack anything. Neither the boxes nor your own suspicions. So you make a quick dinner, play one episode of the show Ghosts for shits and giggles, then proceed to pass the fuck out on your couch.

Your alarm goes off before the sun even rises, and you slump off your couch and more or less crawl to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

The office building you work in is modern, in a sense. The cubicles are just like the ones you see in shows and movies, with minor discrepancies here and there. Your own cubicle has decorations up even though it’s been two weeks since the last holiday, but you decided the look was seasonal enough to be excused.

You slump into your rolling chair and begin your day, lamenting the fact that you left your coffee in the car.

“Hey work bestie~” a voice sings, and you glance at the clock. Twenty minutes late; that might be a new record.

“Hello Carrie. You’re early.�� You muse, spinning your chair to face the blonde woman standing at the edge of your cubicle.

“I know, right? Boss might faint when he sees me,” Carrie laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but grin yourself, pushing your seat back to properly greet the woman before something in the corner of your eye makes a chill crawl down your spine.

There’s a flock of crows sitting just outside your work building, almost all of them gathered atop your car.

Among them, you spot none other than Jimmy, bigger and prouder than the rest. You thought you left Twilight’s anchor in your office, so this must be the crows own doing.

“What are you looking at- oh.” Carrie stops dead when she sees the same thing you do. She laughs a little, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Looks like you have a bit of a fan club. I knew you were feeding the birds around here, but I didn’t think they’d start crowding your car.” Carrie giggles, reaching out to ruffle your hair a little bit.

“I’ll let you get back to work now. We should get lunch today, though! My treat!” Carrie calls over her shoulder as she retreats to her own cubicle.

You sigh, casting Jimmy one last cursory glance before settling back into your seat, ready to get on with your day.

~~

You spend your breaks researching. History classes from back in school told you all of the basics, but it doesn’t hurt to get a refresher.

The creation of Hyrule, brought about by the Hero of the Skies. An era of peace interrupted by a wind mage that was brought down by the Hero of the Four Sword, another era of peace before some guy named Ganon got ratted out by a kid from the Kokiri forest, then imprisoned in the Twilight Realm, where he eventually escaped to enact his original plots. After being sealed yet again, the man escaped his seals and played a huge part in the War of Eras, which brought about knowledge of alternate timelines and created rifts between said timelines which everyone decided to just… not mess with. Then, the group of Heroes started showing up. Old diaries from those times claimed a group of nine heroes would pop in and out of different pockets of time, looking for some sort of black blooded monster. They chased that thing through countless places and times, to the point it was impossible to really keep track of their adventure.

But everybody knows that the end of their journey is questionable. Nobody knows if they ever vanquished the creature that they were chasing. Nobody knows if they ever returned to their correct times or realities.

The last time they were apparently seen was… about a hundred years ago, though with all of the reality and time hopping, it’s hard to say if that was truly the end of their journey.

“Do you believe the stories about the old heroes?” You ask Carrie, looking up from your phone at the girl who’s halfway through a mouthful of her burger.

“Erm.. Why not? I mean, magic and monsters aren’t as common as they used to be, but they’re still around. That means someone had to take care of all the bad stuff in the past. Why not some macho blondes with arsenals of weapons and magic at the tips of their fingers?” Carrie shrugs, wiping her hands with a napkin before throwing it back into her plate.

“ ‘Macho Blondes’, eh? So you’re one of those people.” You smirk, leaning forward to throw your coworker a smug look.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of the Twink Link truthers!” Carrie accuses, pointing her finger in your face. You back up, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Not all of them… just most of them.” You smile genially, and Carrie squints at you.

“The Hero of Time.” She hisses between gritted teeth. You feel a bead of sweat beginning to form on your brow. Friendships have been ruined over this very topic.

“I think… he was a twink in his youth, but a DILF towards the end.” You speak your truth, and Carrie stares you down for three more stressful seconds before leaning back in her seat and nodding.

“A wise decision.” Carrie hums, then goes back to eating her burger. You glance at your phone, thinking back to all of the research you’ve done today. When you get home, you need to get some answers.

~~

You go home and sequester yourself away into your attic.

It’s quiet up there. A little humid, but not terrible. Bearable.

You sort through the boxes upon boxes of gear, comparing them to their historical counterparts and slowly putting together the armor sets of each of the heroes you heard about while growing up.

You stare at the piles of gear, knees pulled up to your chest and chin resting on your knees. You click your phone on, eyes blankly observing your Home Screen.

“Do I actually need to ask at this rate? The truth is clear as day…” You mumble, opening your phone to find the Hero of Time’s wiki pulled up.

“The thing I’m having trouble with… is why they’re here of all places.” You groan, continuing to scroll through your phone until it suddenly shuts off. That’s weird, it had enough charge before. You sigh, pocketing the device before deciding to rejoin the world of the living. Or, well, the world of the dead from your roommates perspective.

You can’t help but laugh at your own little joke, scooting over to the hatch leading down to your room. It lets out an awful creaking noise while you climb down that you elect to ignore, though maybe you shouldn’t have since a loud snap sounds out, and you barely have time to gasp before your back makes contact with solid ground.

“Oww…” You groan, sitting up and blindly rubbing your back before opening your eyes to make sure that nobody saw you completely embarrass yourself.

You don’t find anybody. Nor do you find your own room.

All you find when you look around is an empty forest.

[jenn2d2]

Crow Parties are Murder

Summary: Illario isn't having the best of times at a party thrown by the Dellamorte family to celebrate Treviso's freedom when he becomes embroiled in bad manners and unsanctioned murder. Thankfully, Neve Gallus is on the case.

Chapter 1: Charm, Offensive -- House Dellamorte is hosting a huge party to celebrate Treviso's freedom, and Illario is not having a good time.

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Illaneve, Illario Dellamorte/NeveGallus, Antivan Crow Politics (Dragon Age), Party, Political Intrigue, Antivan Crows, Religious Imagery & Symbolism

I've got another chapter that should post tomorrow, planning on a couple of chapters at the end of each week (probably around 6-8 total?). Read below, or at AO3.

Throngs of the elite coursed through the Villa Dellamorte and the surrounding estate in numbers that hadn't been seen in decades to celebrate the last of the Antaam withdrawing from Treviso. Antivans liked a good party, and nobody knew how to throw one quite like the Crows. The rest of the city celebrated tonight as well, with fireworks, light shows, and more gondolas active on the canals than anyone had seen at one time in living memory. Lights hung from every tree, building and even in the sky as a tide of joy swept any and all in together.

Illario hated every minute of it.

Social gatherings of any kind were usually his forte, something he slipped into with ease like a pair of the best shoes. Illario always ensured he looked polished to perfection, put others at ease, and enlivened the air around him in whatever way served his needs best. Tonight began in a usual way, with a well-memorized list of important guests and their tastes viewed and reviewed well ahead of time. He dressed to suit the occasion and his position. A neat, dark suit, accented in silver and stylized jet feathers at his cuffs and lapels. It was less ostentatious than his cousin sported as First Talon, but something that clearly marked him as a Crow, a master assassin, and a member of House Dellamorte.

As part of the hosting family, Illario couldn't arrive fashionably late, so he moved in and around the reception line. He ensured it moved as it should, but that no one felt rushed, ignored, or bored. It was going well. It was also a special form of torture he had designed for himself, as each familiar face registered their surprise at his presence and then attempted to conceal whatever surprise, disdain, admiration, or outright loathing followed after.

"Illario, how good to see you!"

"What a night for the Dellamorte family, you must be so proud."

"You must find me later and we can share a drink!"

Even the faces he found most welcome could not compete with the casual insincerity and entitlement of the rest. After working through the guests several times, Illario was fairly sure he'd have at least a couple of bruises from pinches or prodding in places he would prefer not to. He also felt he had exercised the utmost discretion in not returning several unwanted caresses and at least one attempted stabbing with one of the many knives concealed on his person.

Weaving through the flock, he timed his return to his family as the most important guests arrived. For the first time he could remember, Illario actually looked forward to returning to where his family stood. He could not wait to close out this part of the evening.

"So how are our guests?" Caterina asked curtly as he took his place at her side. "You certainly took your time."

"They are all quite well," Illario replied, pushing the good will he did not feel into one of his better smiles. "Most have arrived and wandered to wherever they see fit. Your more anticipated guests should arrive shortly, hence my timely appearance."

"Don't be flip," Caterina replied, but her mouth shifted to the barest smile of approval. Whatever she privately felt, Illario could tell that at least in this she still found him useful. "Make sure not to monopolize any of our guests' attention this evening. They have their own obligations, just as you have your own."

Illario nodded. It wasn't a discussion and she wasn't asking for his opinion. Instead, he braced for the incoming crowd with an outward ease he did not feel.

Three-quarters of an hour later, the reception was over. Most of it was a blur of important people who Illario hoped to not meet again in person, and who probably also wished the same but for more personal health related reasons. The influential, deadly, and wealthy passed by into the waiting crowd, mostly unremarkable to him.

Some bright spots punctuated the time, with Professor Volkarin and his skeletal apprentice in attendance for the Mourn Watch causing quite a stir, especially when accompanied by his imposing paramour from the Veil Jumpers. Bellara had risked a small wave to Illario as she passed by with Strife, and he noticed she had managed to bring along some sort of notebook. The Papers in Minrathous rarely had first-hand accounts of parties thrown by the Crows, and he looked forward to whatever scandals spooled out of her pen when the night was over.

Maevaris Telani cut in impressive figure in a stunning gown that seemed to be made of whatever gave the shine to diamonds, representing the will of the Archon, but clearly bringing the hopes of the Shadow Dragons with her as well. At the back of her retinue, Illario spied Neve in a gown of green and pale yellow, her hair swept up along one side by a stylized golden fascinator in the shape of a flowering tree branch with a green lace veil shading across her face. Catching his eye, she smiled and gave him a wink, which earned him a discreet elbow in the side from Rook.

"Neve looks nice," Rook purred quietly as she smiled slightly, not moving her mouth. Illario had never quite mastered that trick, but he usually didn't say things in the open that weren't intended to be overheard. "I really like the hair-clip thing?"

"Fascinator," Illario answered absentmindedly, letting his eyes trail after Neve as she exited the to the main hall. Golden branch, pale yellow flowers, green leaves. Lemon blossoms. He could feel a familiar tightness in his chest, pulling and twisting him out of shape. "And yes, she does. Neve always has style."

"Hmm," Rook returned with entirely too much nonchalance.

Illario really was going have to have a word with… someone. Probably his own reflection at this rate.

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter," a woman's shrill voice intoned near his ear, and Illario swiveled to face a thin, sour looking woman. She was young, pale, and dressed in the robes of the Orlesian Chantry, the fabric far too sumptuous to hail from one of the poorer sects. Her accent wasn't Orlesian, but more likely Ferelden or the Free Marches with a tinge of … something else.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just," Illario responded automatically, his early childhood lessons calling forth the remainder of one of the more well known Benedictions. He nodded his head towards the woman, and she returned it in the most cursory way.

"Sister Gabrielle," Caterina inclined her head towards the woman with the barest flicker of annoyance in her eyes. Behind her, Lucanis raised an eyebrow in Illario's direction, and the two shared a moment of shared relief, as her irritation was clearly aimed at the disagreeable young woman. It was short lived as Caterina continued. "You and Mother Thomasina are most welcome this evening."

The Sister gave a far more composed bow to the older woman, all traces of whatever had been in her face smoothed away.

"It is so kind of you, Madame Dellamorte," an older woman behind the sister strode forward, looking every inch a Chantry Mother. Her face was lightly lined, but strong cheekbones and piercing green eyes left a formidable impression. "We were traveling for most of the day, and have not had a chance for some quiet reflection."

"Should you require it, my grandson Illario would be happy to show you our family chapel off of the south gardens," Caterina placed her hand lightly on his arm, message clear.

"That would be most welcome," Mother Thomasina smiled, giving a nod to Illario. "Our travel was arduous, and she spent much of that time working diligently. I know she would appreciate some time to rest before rejoining us."

"My grandson will show Sister Gabrielle the way while you and I join the rest of the party, " Caterina nodded, and gently pressed on Illario's arm again. "Lady Cousland has been eagerly awaiting your arrival."

Mother Thomasina laughed, and the two older women began walking towards the main hall with the rest of the Chantry Mother's retinue in their wake. Lucanis nodded to Illario as he and Rook continued to chat with the few remaining guests waiting to greet them.

Taking his cue, Illario gave Sister Gabrielle a small bow, catching her eye as he straightened. He stifled the urge to recoil in disgust as naked malevolence rolled off of the woman in a brief, arresting wave. She returned the slightest of bows, and recomposed her face as he looked away to gesture in the direction of the chapel.

"If you will follow me, Sister," Illario strode forward, his own face a mask of amiability while he furiously reviewed his knowledge of this woman he was saddled with guiding to his family's often unused chapel. Attaché to Mother Thomasina, who was originally Ferelden Chantry with a tenuous connection to Divine Victoria. Currently in Orlais, influential with some of the pro-Circle and Templar advocates. Sister Gabrielle joined her some time in the last two years, but the resurgence of the Blight during the rise of the elven gods had made proper information on the woman difficult to track down.

"The chapel itself is quite restful," Illario chatted pleasantly, walking around and through the remaining late-arriving attendees on their way to the main hall. "While the garden will have guests, it is situated to ensure that you should have as much solitude as you need."

Several of the people they passed turned to follow the unusual sight of a Chantry sister attending a party thrown by a Crow House. While the clergy often attended galas and parties thrown by the nobility, they rarely deigned to grace the halls of the famous assassins, even when cordially invited with the most sincere assurances for their safety.

"Is it a place you find comfort?" Sister Gabrielle hissed, her voice pitched just too loud to be discreet. "I am sure that as a failed parricide, you have had many occasions to pray to the maker for forgiveness."

This last line was delivered as they stepped into the library, in clear earshot of guests lining the entryway in the hopes of observing new and interesting attendees arriving. Illario could hear an audible gasp off to his right as a red heat began thrumming in his ears and sketching an unwanted scowl on his face. He made no attempt to answer or change his expression as they continued to walk through the house.

Behind him, the horrible woman began quoting freely from the Chant of Light in a sonorous voice, to the delight and disdain of many guests within earshot. Illario wondered idly if Caterina had advance knowledge of Sister Gabrielle, given the annoyance she'd barely concealed at the woman's presence. He could imagine that her reputation would run ahead of her if this is how she moved through society. The drone of her recitation washed over him as they walked, much as it had in almost every Chantry service he'd attended as a child. Most of it left little impression.

"…Spite ate away all that was good, kind, and loving till nothing was left but the spite itself…"

Illario paused just at the door to the gardens and wheeled on the woman so quickly she barely had time to stop before running into him headlong. She recoiled sharply as if he'd struck her, leaning back with melodramatic flair. A small part of him admired that bit of theatrical performance, but he was too fed up with her behavior to give it much thought.

"That's an odd choice," Illario quipped, feigning cutting amusement as several guests turned to stare at the commotion at the garden entrance. "It's not every day you hear some of the dissonant verses grace these halls."

"You cannot tell me that none in this house know spite coiled 'round their heart like a great worm," she replied with a haughty sneer. "Unlike the Betrayer, repentance does not appear to grace your halls."

"I would prefer that you did not blaspheme to our guests, Sister," Illario stated a little louder and sharper than intended, his words echoing out and away into the house and outward into the garden. He knew he was feeding a spectacle, as two more of the guests in the hallway turned to listen and began talking rapidly. He continued anyway. "We are not as comfortable in Antiva with the self-serving words of Maferath as some are in Ferelden."

"I am not from Ferelden," Sister Gabrielle spat, abruptly charging forward. "But I would not expect knowledge or care of such things in such a house as yours."

Given the choice to move or make physical contact, Illario slipped aside at the last moment, causing the clergywoman to hurtle into the garden. Her momentum threw her forward and into a well manicured azalea bush as one of her feet caught the edge of a flagstone. Robes, cowl, hat and stole all conspired to wrap the woman into the foliage like a lost kite tangling up raccoon in a tree.

It was amusing to watch her growl and struggle with the shrubbery, but after a moment Illario snapped his fingers. A younger Crow appeared instantly at his side, as if she had been only a step or two away. He recognized her from Rook's normal detail, elven girl, particularly good with a garrote, part of House Egrativi. Reliable, if incredibly likely to report every single facet of this encounter to his cousin as soon as possible.

"Julietta, see that she reaches the chapel as intact as possible," he pointed at the woman still struggling to free herself. Illario could hear the swirl of conversation start to spread out from the onlookers in the garden and cursed his temper, but it was a bit late for that. The girl sprang forward, and he saw another shadow detach itself in the garden and join her.

"When you're finished, please make sure give my apologies to the First Talon."

"No need," Illario froze as Caterina's voice drifted down the nearby stairs along with the sound of her cane as she descended. "I will let him know myself."

Illario turned to face his grandmother and bowed briefly, his face a mask of perfect stillness. His heart pounded hot in his ears as the disappointment and irritation clearly etched itself into the lines of her face. Trailing behind her were Mother Thomasina and Lady Cousland, both staring at him intently, the Chantry Mother scowling with anger. Beyond were several other faces he recognized, including one pinched with concern and sporting a golden lemon branch in her hair. The ache in his chest became a vice around his heart, and he could feel his composure eroding away with his patience.

Bowing again, Illario turned on his heel and quickly exited towards the service hallway without comment. What could he say? At least Lucanis and all of his friends wouldn't have to wait on the news of his abject failure. How convenient.

[narcissarina]

𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

જ⁀➴Previous chapter

Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader

Word count: 1,531 (crying why it's so short🧍‍♂️☹️)

Tw: Blood, slicing monsters guts, sold reader to get experimented on.

Summary: Finally got the relic together and would be able to go home, but Leon thinks there's just something more to discover.

𝚇𝙸.

It was already 6:00, Leon manage to get the two of you back in the basement—which was now marked as your safe zone. He focuses on your comfort first before proceeding, feeding you, yet, another energy bar.

“Feeling better?” He asked, legs spread out and patting your back, “a little.” You mumbled, finishing the energy bar and drinking water. You check your watch and see that it’s already nighttime, “it’s dark, should you want to continue tomorrow morning where the sun is out?” Leon suggested, knowing your discomfort in the dark.

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?” Leon asked again, to make sure if you’re really up for the job in searching at night.

“I think it would be better if we finish this as soon as possible.” You admitted and scratched the back of your neck, Leon nodded and acknowledged it. He stood up and help you get on your feet, “let’s go.”

It was dark out, you found the creatures body still on the ground. Face to the dirty dirt, “do you see anything glowing?” you asked, Leon kneels down and flip it over, the thing is glowing from it’s stomach. “I think you might want to turn around, princess.”

You gag and nodded, you turn your back at him while he takes his knife out and started slicing the entity’s stomach, crimson splattered to his bicep, hands and shirt.

“Shit.” Leon spat and you heard him spit out, “you okay?” you asked in worry, “I’m fine, just too much black blood.” He assured and continue slicing down to its stomach, he is no surgeon to do this—but he has to.

“Leon… I think you might want to hurry up.” You mutter, voice shay and your breath hitches.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” Leon groans and frown as he struggle to get the fourth piece out, it was quite big too. He curled it in to a thick layered fabric and tuck it in the bag.

“Don’t. Move.”

Leon turn his head to what you’re looking at, it was there. Standing and gutting out crimsons from it’s eyes, the smile forcefully turning to a frown. It made an eerie noise as it tilts its head to the side, you both could see a light glow from the neck.

“That’s probably the stone itself, right?”

“it has to be.”

You swallowed your saliva as you take a couple of deep breaths, you wait for Leon’s signal. “On me, okay?” you nod at his words, “I’ll count to three and you’re going to run from that side,” Leon points to your right, “while I go the other.”

You nodded and warm up your legs, the injury you had is still healing but it has grown numb when adrenalin rushes through your veins.

“One.”

The creature slowly crawls, rotating it’s head slowly to a 360°, you swear that you could’ve peed in your pants a little.

“two.”

“Come on, come on.” Your heart pounding and your mind racing, it’s almost close.

“Go!” You made a run for it, you separate from Leon as the creature targeted you. “Fuck, Leon!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, “I’m here!” Leon shouts back, throwing each bullet to find the weak point.

“Do you see it?”

“Not yet!”

You swear your legs is gonna give out, you stop your track as the creature laughs at you for being foolish—you slide down from below and continue your run, “I think it’s on the neck!” Leon took note of that and got the creatures attention by throwing a flash bang at it.

It blinded for a good few minutes as Leon told you to come to him, so the attention would be his.

It hisses and screamed loudly, the crows flock and fled, making it shake the trees.

“Didn’t know you’re part of an Opera.” Leon remarked, hiding you from the creature, “come on big guy, come and get me.” He taunt and made his run, it was pissed and started speeding up to catch Leon.

You came out from your hiding spot and watch Leon do the job, Leon dropped the bag beside you, you rummage to it and find another flash bang, since you saw that it immobilize the creature for a good minute. You thought to give it a try and help him out.

“Leon!” you called, “heads up!” he ducks down, the curious creature turn its head as the flash bang turned off to its face, giving Leon enough time to aim and shoot to its neck.

Bang—

You closed your eyes and peek a little, the thing is now on the ground—not moving or breathing, it’s dead.

“Good job,” he praises as you ran up to him and help him up, “no problem.” You smiled at him and gave him a big hug, “now is not a place to give me your biggest hug.” You shy away from his embrace, he smiled at you as the two of you were sitting in the ground.

“Leon.”

“Yeah?”

You lean to him and gave him a peck on the cheek, “thank you.” Your lips brush to his ear as you help him up. “No,” he pause, “thank you.”

You hum and help him up, you handed him his knife and gesture him to now cut open the creatures throat, “all yours.” He chuckles at your tactics, “thank you.” He takes it and step towards the dead entity, you turn around as he do his part.

“Hunnigan?”

“Yes?”

“We got it.” Leon looks at you as you two put the pieces back together and put it in a suitcase that’s made for only that stone.

“Great, I’ll make a report, do you want me to sent a chopper?” Hunnigan asked, Leon looked at you for a second—you tilt your head to him, “is there something wrong?” you asked, Leon shakes his head and returns to Hunnigan.

“Not yet, there’s still some things we need to get done.” Leon ended the call and turns to you, “what do you mean?” you asked him, he cups your cheek and grabbed your waist.

“We need to find a lab, and make sure there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Leon, I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not.” His expression hardens and sigh, “you were experimented on when you’re unconscious, princess.” Your face and heart dropped, “we need to make sure you’re not turning to one of them…” Leon confesses, his eyes softens when he sees you’re visibly scared.

“I’m here,” he pulled you into a tight embrace, you couldn’t choke a sob or let a tear slip. It was just nothing. You let Leon caress your hair and hum assurance in your ear, “Let’s get back inside and know who’s behind to all of this, hm?”

Leon made you look into his blues, his eyes speaks volume as you gave him a small nod and a faint smile. “Okay…” you manage to mutter out.

“I trust your judgement.”

He pulled you close, hands intertwined as the two of you got inside the mansion again. Leon buried the briefcase somewhere, hoping that no one would take it since Leon knew how to perfectly hide some valuable under the dirt.

Your mind was racing and thinking of the worst case scenarios. You didn’t do anything wrong, you hardly make enemies and you always do what your parents asked you to (well except for changing clothes), all you know is that you gave your all and that you have been a good fucking girl.

It was already 9:30 at that point, you two searched from up and below. Trying to crack every single puzzle, you picked up a piece of paper in one of the books in the library—you two paced back to the rooms that you two already searched.

It doesn’t hurt to double check, right?

You read the note, your brows knit together as you recognize this handwriting.

You don’t know how much I would do everything in my power to kill that bitch! She’s taking away everything and getting in my plans, how I never even regret setting her mothers accident, I don’t feel remorse to a poor mother and her disgusting daughter.

My baby won’t even look at me when that burden is in the same room as we were, I even realized that I’m not part of his inheritance—he said with a proud smile that all his belongings and money would come to his daughter if it means he'll be a good father.

What about me?

The plan I did to kill his wife and ruin their marriage, was it all in vain? Why did his daughter have to be born, so stupid!

No worries, plan B is where we are going to roll. Sell her to the creeps who do questionable experiments, if her father didn’t manage to recognize her—then the inheritance will be mine, he would think that his daughter is now dead and would never become an ugly monster.

Leon took the note from you and crumbled it into a ball and tuck it in his pockets, “Come here…” He coos and hugged you tight, “It’s okay…”

“Leon..?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I become a monster?”

Next Chapter>>>

[lephamquynhnhu]

Panacea

Chapter 6: Latent cinders

Dan Feng x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: The reader has a default name, OOC, mentioned blood, violence. (This is a work of fanfiction, events are not aligned or relevant to the original work)

Word count: 2k2

Summary: He met you on a drizzling day when hydrangea fully bloomed on its field. Amidst the sea of mild pastel petals, Dan Feng never thought the flowery domain that intertwined your fate was the precise thing withered with you. They said he was a dragon, a hero, a sinner, but never a person with love, hatred, sorrow, or joy like everyone else in this world. However, it was a demi-truth. He committed the cardinal sin because of you.

Note: Finally, I am back! My thesis defense went successfully, and I immediately returned to finish this story. Thank you to readers who still follow Panacea.

Do you like...depression?

As if the tragedy found you everywhere like hawks snipped corpses, it bore fangs into your throat til the end when another dire scene unfolded right before your very eyes. They bombarded the Devourers' base to destroy the minimum trace of their shameful project and covered the truth permanently. Although this was a predictable outcome you had already foreseen, it was unbearable to witness everything transformed into cinders. You numbly stood in the world of sorrow and ashes as your feet rooted into the ground, air frosted in your lungs.

When the last survivor of Devourers after Denizen of Abundance III thought of suicide, a weak sound crackled under the ruins, which attracted you rushing toward the source. Ignoring the tingling sensation that burnt your bare hands, you dug through opaque objects and black charcoal until Pumpkin's wet nose touched your scratched fingers. However, precarious happiness quickly dissolved into thin air like bubbles as you realized he was dying. A glass jar fell off his jaw when Pumpkin left some fragile whines to roll the inhibit serum to you. His golden fur got burnt because the flame touge fired half of the dog's body, and a ribcage bone pierced his liver. Beneath the wreckage were Pumpkin's footprints blurring on black soil, which translated that he could have run away but chose to return to retrieve the inhibited serum and got stuck.  

Your veins nearly popped out since you were compressing the sentiment. You did not want Pumpkin to see your tears, so you stayed strong til his last breath. Nevertheless, you could not hold back anymore as he licked your hand, and Pumpkin's soul left the world full of ashes. 

As if things were not even worse, Yaoqing soldiers appeared in the nick of time you were mourning over the last member's death. Your head felt empty, and all energy surged out when they handcuffed you to lead out the crumble base. Upon the shrinking display, crows started hovering around Pumpkin to knock their beaks, and some of the flock found a fine seat to feat. Members of Devourers of Abundance Abominations did not have a proper grave when they died, and neither should you. Perhaps the Yaoqing Authorities would order a butcher to execute you in private with a burial service called vultures or keep you alive to research another biological weapon of the next generation. (More talent and more preeminent.) 

A psychological voice vibrated scatter clauses snapped you out of the nullifying state: "I always dreamt of a field with bloom hydrangea." and "Please live happily from now on." 

Huang Yuan guaranteed not to divert the holy arrow toward Xianzhou, yet he did not assure of unsighted loyalty. With your now completed heart that attained human emotions, Yaoqing's action was the last straw of your tolerance, which led to the decision to become a deserter. 

The raven wings smote into the thick ambiance and soared through dark trees when they heard the wind seething. Their inky feathers took time to levitate over the monochromatic scenery and landed ground soundlessly. 

Before fleeing from your homeland, you implemented a proper burial for Pumpkin and others. Nothing existed besides ruins, crypts, and dried blood on the soil. There was no evidence of struggles. 

Yaoqing publicized your identification and declared your wanted posters across Xianzhou ships, even spreading them to their friendship planets with the crime of murdering six Cloud soldiers and desertating. Nonetheless, you cleverly stowed away on a merchant ship traverse to Talia and fabricated your papers. Thanks to the unstable regime, you could easily steal a certified ID card and then live under a camouflage named Yi Ting for years. When things settled down, and the Yaoqing assumed your death due to the short longevity of Devourers, they revoked wanted orders but deported your existence instead. 

It is hard to be in exile, yet you do not feel regrettable. Living in Zhuming for three years, learning gardening, and studying some botanical effects to suppress your symptoms, you moved to Loufu. 

Since the upheaval on that Spring night, you and Dan Feng have officially been together but in secret. Despite comprehending and being aware of your sins circumstantially, he decided to stay by his guilty lotus. As for you, it is a miracle as you can breathe even surpassing your due date long ago, yet the stone still burdens the High Elder's shoulder when your health goes downward. None of his treatments affect your state, as well as the imitated serum. In contrast, you are well informed about your limited time but accept the upcoming death and enjoy the rest days. 

Tomorrow is the tenth ceremony of winning Denizen of Abundance III, and you want to do the soul-soothing ritual for your comrades. Because you finally let old memories go and are ready to bid them a proper goodbye. At first, the Long Scion hesitates to follow your wish since the windy weather might impact your delicate status, yet opposing his beloved determination, Dan Feng gives in.

"If I sense any abnormal signs, we will return immediately." 

He places the test tube down to gently cup your face, and a familiar influx of ambergris with fresh herb flies from his sleeves; he smells like tranquility as always. A short implied hum drumming through your chest, vibrant the vocal fold as you close your eyes to lean on the comfortable heat that Dan Feng radiates off.

Maroon and scarlet added some citric flavor of lemony yellow that notifies another lustrous Autumn. Luofu's landscape endues its seasonal cloth with the mellow air of juicy grass as you and the Long Scion stroll to the town. Xianzhou natives are busy preparing their last things for the special ceremony, which even causes a more vibrant ambiance than usual days. 

You are excited to explore new aspects of Aurum Alley after days of lying in bed while Imbibitor Lunae trailing behind with a paper fan. A plain texture of ivory hue painted white lotus and writing a stanza poem by ancient letters. The embroidered crane wings seemingly move simultaneously with his actions. You find it bizarre to see him wear other accessories besides his single earring, but Dan Feng looks unexpectedly ronin. 

After the High Elder turns his heels to buy some sweets at a nearby delicacy pavilion, an outstanding story of Xiyan reaches your ears and catches your wandering mind. 

"Devourers of Abundance Abominations was an undead army that had contracted with Yaoshi in return for their pseudo immortality. The mercenary served under different lords in the cosmos and eventually betrayed them. However, their existence abruptly disappeared when those gist monsters fought for the enemy's side in Denizen of Abundance III. Some said the Reignbow Arrow wiped out..."

Enough of hearing a bunch of absurdity, so you cannot help but charge at Xiyan's collar and curse his story. Despite the excavating status, your eyes are bloodshot with murderous intention gleaming in irises, and your long-forgotten muscles progressively grow under the black gloves. Upon that quarrel, the crowd assembles due to human curiosity. 

"You mundane did not know anything about them and dared to mislead other people with your nonsense fairy tale? Devourers did not contract with the Plague Author to exchange for their blessings! They are human, and they are Xianzhou citizens! The Yao..." - This time is your voice trailing off at the forbidden name as a familiar hand stays firm on your shoulder to awaken your sanity. 

"I'm so sorry. My niece seems still under the effects of History Fictionologists and oblivious to the proper history." - The Long Scion quickly intercepts with a made-up reason to explain on behalf of you for causing the ruckus, and his protective arm wraps around you as a habit to prevent the counter gets any further. The ill-intent aura that you are giving off coils inside its cell as you mutter a decent apology quietly and then blend in. 

On the road to the Exalting Sanctum, you savor a sweet skewer Dan Feng handed over with a crestfallen face in muteness. All the joy seemingly disappeared after your encounter with Xiyan, so you two had better keep silent. 

Lining up your long-arm comrades' mementos to send off is another challenging task since touching them again meaning open the old wound. They did not leave any specific tools that belonged to them; if they had, their possessions returned to voidness. Thus, using things that remind you of them is most appropriate. Irene's Polaroid, Huang Yuan's photo, the comms device you last saw Jia Xi, and the promise you could not complete: Zi Wen's proposing ring. The nose bridge starts stingingly burning hot as you brush against the cheap metal. He must put all effort into creating his sacred vow to Irene, yet it is unsent forever.  

Your paper lantern airily ascends aloft and mixes with others, illuminating a solemn beige color that carries away people's sentiments. Watching them flow into a celestial river that flies across the cerulean sky, a glassy teardrop unknowingly rolls down your chin. Imbibitor Lunae pensively follows the glittering stream and holds your hand without diverting his gaze because he knows you do not want him to look at you. 

The sole solace you can seek from outsiders is Dan Feng's firm grip. 

Evening light is dense like a veil of maltose, pouring under the gravel path, and sometimes stones crunching under your shoes. People and inhabitants are getting loose with the new moon vaguely manifests, and the Big Dipper is over their heads. In this hour, the red velvet sun does not just glare upon realms below but also dyes maple trees into a crimson hue, shrouding you in the warm color of late Autumn. While you and Dan Feng stride back to the Faery Forest, an unexpected wind blowing through causes the scenery to quiver, and then maple leaves compete to fall. Unable to resist the poetic spectacle, your doe eyes morph from admiration to excitement as you dart forward to dance in the scarlet drizzle. When twirling around to find the High Elder, you bring along a glittering gold halo that gleams around, and he figures that his world has shrunk to your blissful smile in that momentary. However, strict wrinkles start forming as Dan Feng rushes toward you to aid your balance, indicating your free time is overdue. 

You two then take a break and watch the sunset together at a nearby wooden pavilion. The precedent breeze seems harsher than you thought because the Long Scion's disheveled hair now entangles with a red maple leaf, but he looks unbothered. You tenderly comb the long locks by hand and secretly commend its velvety between your fingers. 

"Feng, will you place a flower on my grave when I die?" - The enthralling activity may cast a spell on you as the sentence jumps out before you realize it. In contrast, a slight reprimand tone in Imbibtor Lunae's stern voice suggests that he is unwilling to engage in that topic, yet it is counter-productive since you want to press it further. An annoying feeling tingles on his visage when hearing that question twice, so Dan Feng leans forward to prevent you from the third chance to repeat. You immediately retreat behind like instinct and place both hands on his chest to stop him. 

"We are in public!" - Your hiss is no louder than a whisper as the astonishment trucked you with his boldness since the High Elder never wishes to attract crowd attention. Even if there is no one around, it is still a modicum possibility that people may catch. Nonetheless, your resistance is futile when Dan Feng's arm hugs behind to pull you closer, and his other hand opens the paper fan to make a flowery triptych, shielding your kiss from outsiders' eyes. The freshness and lightly spicy flavor of cinnamon with mellow sweetness like honey causes you to feel weak, and your heart quivers to the point of ache. 

"I won't let that happen." - You could hear the message loud and clear through his movement. Despite your lifespan getting its due day and there is no way the High Elder is capable of reversing death, you want to believe in his words. He silently puts a square box into your hand and encourages you to open it with a nervous emotion that carefully hides beneath his usual stoic face. 

A pair of earrings made from emeralds and share the same design as his. Their colors are as glassy as Autumn pond, as green as his eyes. Yesterday, Imbibitor Lunae gifted you three stocks of brocade and two meters of peach silk; today is the pledge of love. 

"You really do want to marry me?"

"Yes. Please promise you will watch maple leaves with me next year, the next ten years, and every year." 

The sound of Celest-Gold rings deafening around the restrained milieu, prevailing forthcoming footsteps. Under the dullness and stuffiness of Premilinary jail, Dan Feng finally found a clue to cure your lethal condition. That is the reason why he accepted to testify Primus Immortus. The prisoner is soon to be transferred to the Shakle jail due to the crime of Production of the Elixir of Immortality. 

[draftingteacups]

You know how pets follow you everywhere around the house? I like to think that Pokémon do the exact same thing (mainly canine Pokémon, bc you know, DOG).

So imagine during chapter 5 MC (or Soni, but idk which Pokémon) getting things done around Ramshackle with at least 1 or 2 pokemons following them around.

They sit on the couch? all of their team is flocking to them and starts snuggling their trainer while MC is mindlessly scrolling through their rotom phone, dinner time? Unless the Pokémon are eating they sit by their chair, nap? Oh i think you meant group nap. They can't even go to the bathroom alone at this point.

And while MC isn't bothered by it in the slightest all of the boys (besides Kalim and Rook who's chanting praises on how loyal and beautiful the Pokémon and MC's relationship is) are questioning is MC isn't bothered by the "lack of privacy".

God forbid if MC starts dating someone, those two will barely get alone time.

MC and their Pokémon are a package deal.

Oh yeah, that would be the case if the Pokemon is super clingy and affectionate like that.

Doggos irl just wanna snuggle by your feet whenever you eat if they don't eat your food for you at the dinner table. Either that, or if there's a guest, you best believe that they ask for constant cuddles from the random stranger.

Soni usually has one Pokemon with her at all times; at the moment (Chapter 6), that's Nimbus and Gene, but that's because they look the most ordinary to people in TWST; Mila (in her current form) is a little strange, but none will say anything about it if no one asks

I can't really add too much to this ask, but Pokemon are a part of everyone's lives in the Pokemon universe so no one there is bothered by Pokemon acting like that. Different world, different expectations yo

As for Soni, her Pokemon understand that she needs her alone time but never leave her unguarded in TWST because holy moly, a lot of bad things happen if you're not prepared for them adkflk, especially when you've got the ever so kind crow man that is Head Master-

[thethirdamell]

I’ve seen a lot of people posting a few writing memes about fic titles so I just wanted to break down where all of mine have come from and what they mean in Accursed Ones because I’m bored. Probably nothing you don’t already know in here

1. Awakening  - Name of the game + Anders literally waking up + metaphorically waking up and understanding his obligation to help 2. Nothing For It - Mean to imply that Anders had no alternative but to help and be helped by Amell in turn 3. Conscription  - What it says on the tin 4. Joining  - What it says on the tin 5. It Comes From Beneath  - Name of the quest 6. Last of the Legion  - Name of the quest 7. Memories of the Stone  - Name of the quest 8. A Night of Revelry - Meant to be ironic considering what happens 9. Freedom for Anders  - Name of the quest 10. Freedom for Anders Part Two - Name of the quest 11. The Righteous Path  - Name of the quest 12. In Retreat, Panic  - A play on the Grey Warden motto. (Also my favorite chapter in the story.) 13. All Soul's Day - Name of the annum 14. The Dark Theurge  - Name of the demon 15. Paramour  - Name of the achievement for a romance 16. Ground Rules - Ground rules for a relationship 17. Lost in Dreams  - Name of a similar quest 18. Far Afield - Name of the quest 19. Far Afield Part Two - Name of the quest 20. Uprising  - Name of the quest 21. The Resolutionist and The Aequitarian - Amell and Wynne’s respective fraternities  22. Serpents High, Angels Low - Both the rules of the team’s card game and an over-arching theme of the fic where things that are presumed to be good/evil are often the reverse.  23. Malleus Maleficarum  - The name of a treatise on witchcraft elevating sorcery to heresy and a song Malleus Maleficarum by Ordo Funebris 24. Shadows of the Blackmarsh  - Name of the quest 25. The Blackmarsh Undying  - Name of the quest 26. Pride Goes Before Destruction - A reference to the Pride demon and Amell’s pride in thinking he can handle it 27. And a Haughty Spirit Before a Fall - A reference to Justice and Anders falling for Amell 28. The Apple And The Tree - A quote about Amell being like his father 29. Lullabies - A Song - Lullabies by Yuna 30. Fools Gold - Meant to reference both Quentin and Anders’ happiness. Also a song Fools Gold Fitz and the Tantrums.  31. Eyes of the Beholder - A play off “Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder” meant to reference the difference between Amell and Anders’ perspectives on losing his eyes.  32. Blame it on the Night - Meant to indicate what happened isn’t Anders’ fault. Also a song - Blame it on the Night by Calvin Harris  33. White Lies, Red Eyes - A reference to both the colors of the Amell family and Amell’s personality 34. Spirits and Demons - What it says on the tin 35. Love is Blind - An overarching theme in the story. 36. Satinalia - Name of the annum 37. Brothers and Sisters - A reference to Wardens and Anders still having family without Amell.  38. Score One for Our Heroes - Meant to be ironic. Also a quote from Anders. 39. Out of Control - The current state of things and also a reference to A Leader on Losing Control by Corb Lund which is a Leonie song.  40. Justice for Naught - Meant to imply that sometimes there is no justice but you have to keep trying anyway 41. Here's to Us Blighters - What Oghren says when night is darkest 42. Bold and Brazen and Beautiful - Amell’s description of Anders 43. Monsters and Men - Self explanatory for Justice/Anders.  44. The Best Intentions - Oft Go Awry is Unspoken  45. Blessed Are the Peacekeepers - A quote from the Chant of Light 46. Champions of the Just - The rest of the quote. Meant to be ironic.  47. The Black City - A reference to both Kirkwall and the actual Black City 48. Rip Up Your Roots - A quote from Cor and what Anders does to cope, but the follow up, “You ain’t gonna have a tree.” is equally important.  49. A Good Man - A quote from Lirene about Anders 50. First Day - The name of the annum 51. As The Crow Flies - Foreshadowing Anders learning shapeshifting 52. Wintersend - Name of the annum 53. Chasing the Sun - Name of a song. Chasing the Sun by the Wanted.  54. Doubts and Revelations - What it says on the tin 55. Birds of a Feather - Flock together. Both a joke about shapeshifting and Kanders.  56. Snap - What it says on the tin 57. Ray of Sunshine - Joke on Bethany’s name 58. Oopsy Daisy - Joke on Merrill’s name 59. Pretty Reckless - Meant to reference both Anders and Hawke’s behavior.  60. Let's Try This Again - What it says on the tin 61. A Preoccupation with Spirits - A joke about Justice and alcohol 62. Meetings - What it says on the tin 63. Acquainted - Basically just Meetings Part 2 64. Bloodline Part One -  What it says on the tin 65. Bloodline Part Two -  What it says on the tin 66. Trail of Love - Name of the quest but also references Anders’ many past and future loves. Amell, Karl, Isabela, Hawke.  67. Rude Awakening - A call back to the first chapter meant to show how much Anders has changed. Anders takes on the role of Amell here and Hawke takes on the role of Anders with respects to Blood Magic.  68. Safe Harbors - A joke about sex with Isabela 69. The Best Laid Plans - Oft Go Awry is implicit.  70. Oft Go Awry -  What it says on the tin 71. All New, Faded For Him - This was an anagram like the quest in DAI but I can’t remember what it is an anagram for. RIP 72. A Year Ago Today -  What it says on the tin 73. Friends in Low Places - Name of the quest  74. No Turning Back -  What it says on the tin 75. Senior Warden Anders -  What it says on the tin 76. Bodies So Maimed - Quote from the Chant of Light about darkspawn 77. Down in the Dark with the Dead - A quote from Eli 78. Up in the Light with the Life - The opposite of the above quote 79. A Day for Silence - Name of the annum 80. My Failing and My Falling Part One - A line from Anders’ story for Nika and a reference to Hawke’s failure to protect his sister.  81. My Failing and My Falling Part Two - Same as above 82. Pain and Bane - Name of the poem Merrill sings. Also an overarching theme of the story 83. Luck of the Dog - Reference to the Dog Lords but also ironic considering Anders is not lucky.  84. Bird's Eye View - Both a reference to Anders’ transformation magic and his perspective on the Circles and how Bethany doesn’t share them 85. Act of Mercy - Name of the quest 86. The Revolutionists - Name of Decimus’s fraternity 87. Burn After Reading - what it says on the tin 88. Not in Hand, Not in Play - A quote from the chapter but also Fenris’ perspective on love and a theme of the story. It is or it isn’t.  89. Enemies Among Us - Name of the quest 90. Save Me - What it says on the tin 91. Benedictions - A Canticle in the Chant of Light that makes Hawke think of Anders 92. What Will The Neighbors Think? - A mini-theme throughout the story regarding Anders (in)ability to be openly in a relationship, be it with Amell, Justice, Hawke, etc.  93. Have Your Pie and Eat it Too - What Anders keeps trying and failing to do 94. Dead Set on Ending Badly - Foreshadowing  95. Where We Stand - Where Hawke and Anders’ relationship stands 96. Hearts of Gold or Near Enough - Meant to apply to all of the main characters 97. Ghilan’him Banal’vhen - The Path that Leads Astray. Foreshadowing. 98. Abstention and Absolution - Meant to be Ironic 99. Until the Last Dog is Hung - What it says on the tin 100. Free To Good Home - References the mages, Dog Lords, and also Anders 101. It Gets Easier - Narrator Voice: It did not get easier. 102. Luxury of Leaning - A reference to Hawke not having the option to pursue men as the scion of a noble house but doing it anyway because fuck you mom. 103. Dissent - Name of the quest 104. Into Madness - Play on words. Descend into Madness / Dissent into Madness 105. Fester - What it says on the tin 106. The First Sacrifice - Name of the quest 107. Once Removed - Play on words. A reference to Amell/Hawke’s Eyes and Quentin being Hawke’s cousin once removed.  108. Not Again - Haha get wrekt  109. All That Remains - Name of the quest 110. The Way Forward - A reference to Fenris’ quote about the stairs being out. Meant to symbolize that there are no other options for Anders, Hawke, and the narrative as a whole. Also, ironically, meant to show that Hawke does not actually move forward.  111. Lyrium and Lies - Foreshadowing 112. Ser Cumference and the Terrible Tower - A children’s tale vibe meant to show the dichotomy of man.  113. The Calm Before - Foreshadowing for the name of the next chapter.  114. The Storm - What was foreshadowed.  115. Long Time No See - A reference to both not seeing Amell for a long time and Amell not being able to see for a long time.  116. To Catch a Thief - Name of the quest 117. To Save a Sinner - Similar naming methodology of the previous chapter meant to show Isabela is more than just a thief.  118. On Deaf Ears - Both Hawke being deaf and Hawke not agreeing with Anders. 119. Hey Sparkles - Meant to give a “It’s gonna be okay dude” vibe.  120. Give Me A Sign - Sign language reference but also a plea for Hawke and Anders’ relationship to get better. 121. We Should Talk - About both Hawke and Amell, but Amell is the only one Anders talks to in this chapter.  122. The Weight of Years - Shit’s heavy 123. How Have You Been? - Asking the dangerous questions again 124. Spin a Story - Varric’s terrible advice to Anders but also Amell’s approach to interacting with Anders after they’ve been apart for so long. 125. Give and Take Part One - Commentary on Anders relationship with both Amell and Hawke.  126. Give and Take Part Two - See above  127. What You Make It - What love is according to Fenris 128. Letters from the Vigil - What it says on the tin 129. Consent is Key - A quote from the chapter and commentary on responsible use of blood magic.  130. What Have You Done Now? - A song. What Have you Done Now by Within Temptation 131. But This is All I Ever Was - A song lyric. Ditmas by Mumford & Sons 132. Wasted Time - Also a song lyric from Ditmas but like accidentally. 

[altomer]

Pros Chapter 11

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

The next two months flew by. Every day she woke up missing the presence of Izuku next to her. This morning was no different, she ran her hand over the sheets imagining him there. "Kira." A voice called from outside the door before creeping it open. Inko stood on the other side an apron covering her front. "breakfast is ready." Her voice was smooth. Kira sighs pushing back the comforter. Her stomach wash swollen. She was now close to three months pregnant and she hadn't seen Izuku since the day she left. She was surrounded by people but she couldn't help but feel lonely. She stumbled to the kitchen where everyone sat around a small circular table. Eggs from the chickens had been scrambled and bacon from the town general store was the usual menu. Today was no different. She plopped into the chair between Tsunagu and Toshi. Stretching her back she yawned.

"That kid causing problems against." Tsunagu asked, Kira's hand rested in her every growing bump. "he's definitely not making it easy that's for sure." Toshi quirked an eyebrow. "He?" "Mom's intuition." Miruko smirked at the girl as she stuffed a piece of bacon into her mouth. After breakfast Kira helped Inko clean up, the dishes clinked in the soapy water a tense feeling laying over the two. Kira had snapped at her a few days ago and hadn't really apologized. "I miss him." Kira whispers gripping the side of the sink. Inko looks to the girl, her face sad. "Me to honey me to." She rubs Kira's arm before walking out of the room. It was obvious that she wanted to be left alone. The house was stirring with energy and It was giving her a headache. She stepped out of the back door and headed to the barn. The old screen door swinging shut behind her. A can full of bird seed sat on top of the garbage. With a sigh she swiped it digging her hand into the can. The chickens flocked to her feet. "Needy little bastards." "What'd the chickens do to you?" Tsunagu asked from the door. Kira shot him a look over her shoulder, shrugging. She thought she had made it clear she didn't want to talk. The roster crowed from the roof of the chicken coop. "I named him Tamaki," He pointed to the male bird. "After your brother." No one had brought up her brother, well no one but Izuku. To be honest she wasn't in the mood. She let out a sarcastic hum. Tsunagu's footsteps came closer grabbing the old coffee can from her hands. "You need to talk to somebody." The girl met his eyes his stare tense. "It doesn't have to be me, But someone Kira." The girl grit her teeth and made her way to the barn. But he wasn't giving up that easy. "Your just like him you know. Stubborn and self destruc-" "I am nothing like him!" She snarls whipping around on her heel. Her brown hair catching the breeze. "I didn't keep bunch of secrets for everyone to figure out! I didn't get myself caught up with some of the most dangerous villains in Japan! And I sure as hell didn't leave him when he needed me the most!" She took a breath "Like I need him now." He watched the girl before speaking. "But didn't you." He spoke carefully. The words hit Kira hard. "what do you mean." Her voice was weak she knew exactly what he meant. "at least that's what you keep telling yourself." He stepped towards the girl, who then took a step back. "I can see the guilt eating away at you." She shook her head tears pouring she wrapped her hands instinctively around her stomach. "y-you don't know what you're talking about." Her voice quivered she didn't know why she continued to hide it. It was clear he could see right through her. She bit her lip to keep the sobs from escaping. "You have the same look your brother had when he came to kill me." Tsunagu smiled before shaking his head. "Kira, you Tamaki's are so easy for me to read." Kira plopped onto a hay bale Tsunagu sat next to her. "No one blames you." She leaned her arms against her knees. "I do." "I know." He rubbed his hand on her back. Missy -the old dog- padded over to her rubbing against her legs. Kira ran her hand down her back. "If I would have been there..." she stopped sniffing.

"You would have been delaying the inevitable. Hawks had been paranoid for years and you know that." Kira nodded. The dog had laid at her feet after giving her hand a few quick licks. Tsunagu shifted pulling an envelope out of his pocket. 

"From your brother." She grabbed the paper unfolding it carefully.

Dear Tsunie,

How's the farm life treating ya, must be pretty good cause I haven't heard from you in a while. I just wanted to let you know about little bird. She's number two now. How time flies yeah. I'm so proud of her not that I'd ever tell her that. Write me back and tell me about the chickens. Miss you man

-Hawks

"He was proud of you, and the person you're becoming." She nodded rereading the letter. Him and his dang bird jokes. 

"He would hate to see you like this and he definitely wouldn't want you blaming yourself." Kira nodded looking back down at Missy. She pats the dogs head again.

"Your right you know." She sighs rubbing her face with her free hand.

"Of course, I am."

"I've been a really jerk haven't I." Tsunagu rubbed the top of her head

."I'm not going to answer that." Kira had finished feeding all of the animals and had made her way back inside. She was lounging on the couch Miruko in the chair flipping through some outdated magazine she had found. Kira popped another stick of pocky in her mouth. The front door slammed open and Miruko was on her feet in an instant. Kira's heart raced as she prepared herself for a fight. But when she looked to the doorway the one person she wanted to see was standing there. His green hair was longer and the bags under his eyes deeper.

"Kira." He breathed as she launched herself towards him. Wrapping her arms around him.

"What are you doing here!" she asked ecstatic it felt amazing to be in his arms again.

"I got some time off I needed to see you." He pulled back and grabbed her face pulling her lips towards his. The kiss was everything that Kira had been missing these last months. Sweet and soft. Reassuring her that everything was going to be alright.

"Guys really." Miruko was still standing by the chair her magazine halfway across the room. They both looked to the girl before breaking out in laughs. Izuku chuckled as he looked down, his smile growing as it landed on her stomach. His hands landed on her stomach, Kira cringed as the baby protested against his touch. Izuku looked at her his eyes wide.

"Did it-wha-are-" he stummbled over his words as the baby kicked again. Kira giggled a smile adoring her face for the first time since she left the city. She felt happy she had her own little family back together. Inko strode into the room having just gotten back from the store.

"Who's car is- ZUKU!" the woman tackled her poor son hugging him and kissing his cheek. Kira lost it plopping back onto the couch. Her laughs filled the house as the rest of the "fam" found their way in. The look on Izuku's face when he saw Best Jeanist added to her pure joy. She looked around the room, a feeling rising in her stomach. She felt her brother, his presence. The way he could light up a room. She knew in that moment that everything was going to be alright.

[tardigradetheking]

guardian swap au part 2

As Rose by any other name still wants breakfast

 Rose woke up at 2 PM. The house was quiet. her stomach growled like an angry beast, clawing at the cavernous pit that was her stomach. Rose walked into the living room confidentially, her foot slammed down on a trip wire, she dives into the living room as three smuppets impact the wall where her head used to be. she rolls into a crouch, not the crouch of someone scared but a predatory crouch, she is ready to strike, eyes scanning the living room. Rose gives lil cal a polite nod. She spots her target, Bros wallet, lying on computer keyboard. The screen saver says “lets play a game” in bloody lettering. There is a rock on top of the wallet. Rose sees the trap, once the keys are normal state the computer will trigger another trap.

“what will it be this time dear brother” she thinks “a smuppet avalanche? Perhaps a simple air horn? Or maybe this is a misdirect and Cal will jump me as soon as I turn my back? But no dear bro Cal is not yours to use this day he is mine” she grabs lil cal intending to use him as a puppet shield to trigger the trap. However, Bro had other plans. In roses hast to get her price she failed to notice the resistance from cal until the string goes taut. A rubber squeaky mallet swings down from the crawl space nocking Rose flat, another ceiling tile comes lose. As rose is buried in smuppets.

Rose pulls her daggers out of her strife specibus and in a flash the fowl puppets are eviscerated. She stomps up to bros wallet and takes 50 dollars out. She hesitates and takes another 20, for her troubles. she puts on her shoes checks that her bus pass is still in her Laptop bag. “the things a 10-year-old can get with a forged signature” she muses. Rose grabs her shades at the door, the same kind of shades that Morpheus wore during the Matrix.

As Rose Strider began her walk to the bus stop a flock of crows coalesced, circling above her.  One of her Crows lands on her shoulder, stark white compared to the others jet black. “Hello Minnie, do you want breakfast?” “aak aak”

One bus ride later she enters her destination, Chipotle. Rose was a regular, so they hardly batted an eye. “hey crow girl what will you have” one worker called. “my usual” she responded. When her food was done, she went outside. In one hand her meal, in the other a mix of chips and refried beans. She opens the container, lays it on the ground with a flourish and calls “breakfast” crows swarm. As the Raven Girl eats, she offers a small bit of meat to Minnie.

Another bus ride later she arrives at the mall. The Crows settle in for a long wait.  

Rose walked her well beaten path through the mall, she nodded to the security guard Earl and paused in front of a shop, there was a dress in its window. She stares and after a moment scoffs. Soon Rose reaches her destination, a bench. Pulling out her laptop Rose begins her day, first she starts on an assignment for her concurrence classes. Next she edits the newest chapter of her novel, complacency of the learned. Deeming it fit for public consumption she uploads it to her website. The Crow girl hears laughter looking down at the fountain below she sees a group of friends. Rose pulls up Pesterchum

TenticlesandTripwires [TT] began pestering MadscienceGodhead [MG]

TT: Hello, David. how goes your artistic endeavors? I have just published the newest chapter of my E-novel.

MG: oh sick ill have to check it out I just published the newest installment of Jeffery and the bro

TT: Oh? I will have to look.

TT: you're still on the DMV arch? David, I'm disappointed.

MG: you just dont get it the dmv is supposed to be a hell scape of lines and waits got to teach people how to deal with that shit

TTI highly doubt that you need a whole 6 months to explore the topic, or are you just out of material?

MG: no comment although i have plenty of ideas for sweat bro and hella jeff iv just been pumping them out lately like a creativity geysier my minds getting all ol faithful up in here

TT: My brother will be overjoyed to hear that. He finds your work entertaining.

MG: shit that means a lot from the master of irony oh hey rose guess what my mom finally oked the sword lessons

TT:  indeed? congratulations David in a couple of decades you might very well be at my level.

MG: hahaha fuck you rose i have to go now im in the middle of mad science shit its time sensitive

TT: Oh, David, you can't just leave me at that. Do tell.

MG: cloning a sabertooth tiger

MadscienceGodhead [MG] ceased pestering TenticlesandTripwires [TT]

TenticlesandTripwires [TT] began pestering GardenGnostic [GG]

TT: Hello Jade. How are you?

GG: good!!! How are you?

TT: I am fine. How was school today?

GG: not good D: dad picked me up early and everyone is saying i keep on falling asleep in class! But I don’t remember at all!!

GG: now dads talking about homeschool >:B

TT: Oh, a dreadful occurrence. I cannot help you stay in school, however, if you need assistance adapting don't hesitate to ask David and I.

GG: thanks rose :B your so nice

TT: What are friends for?

TT: Jade?

TT: Jade?

TT: I see, sleep well my friend.

TenticlesandTripwires [TT] ceased pestering GardenGnostic [GG]

[hamingo]

Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Female Amell/Leliana (Dragon Age), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Background Revka Amell/Quentin (dragon age), Background Male Amell/Morrigan (Dragon Age) Characters: Leliana (Dragon Age), Female Amell (Dragon Age), Female Surana (Dragon Age), Male Amell (Dragon Age), Revka Amell, Quentin (Dragon Age), Morrigan (Dragon Age), Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Marjolaine (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: it's wall to wall lesbians out there, there's one (1) man and he's just here for moral support, very oc centric, like this is for my friends not the fandom at large, so there are probably like five people who will know what the hell i'm talking about, and the rest of you will just have to figure it out, it's a corpse bride au baby! Summary:

“With this ring!” Leliana held the ring in her hand up to the skies, her grin growing. Glancing down, she noticed a small bush bare of leaves and slipped the ring onto one of the few protruding branches. “I ask you to be mine!” A caw up above caught her attention, and Leliana looked up to see dozens of crows had flocked in the trees above her while she had been distracted. Another reason to get out of here, she figured, this place is really creepy. Kneeling back down to retrieve her ring from the branch, she paused. Had it just. Moved? She really had to leave these woods, if she was starting to see things. She reached forward. So did the branch.

The Corpse Bride AU is finally here! This AU heavily features mine and my friend's OC's- I wrote it for them! Thanks for letting me use your characters, I love you guys!! It will update one chapter a day up to the finale on Halloween!!

(rated T for some swearing and violence in later chapters, and for general Corpse Bride spookiness)

____

Chapter 6 is up! Only one more to go!!

[windyfiend]

<< Chapter 1

Chapter 6: The Kith

Briony coughed, wheezed, her head upside-down, slung like game over the back of a saddled beast. Her hair dangled and swept the weeds, bound wrists at her back twisted toward the sky. She couldn’t see beyond the colors behind her eyes-- the shadows and filmy light left from the flash --but she could hear the rustle and childish chatter of her captors.

The breeze blew cool against her skin. In the distance a bird squawked, free and mocking.

Briony thrashed and kicked to escape, or at least to cause trouble for her captors, but the beast beneath her launched into a gallop and carried her bounding away.

They crashed into the forest, ripping a violent wake through the leaves. Thorns and vines struck her face, ripped her hair, while the beast leaped and lurched between the trees, deeper and darker into the woods.

Briony gave a violent heave of her legs, wrenched against the beast's rhythm, and tumbled sprawling into a rocky creek with a splash and a shock of sharp pain in her shoulder.

The hooves galloped away through the brush.

Soaked and shuddering-- her ears full of the quiet gurgle of water, the chirr of night insects --Briony dragged her knees underneath herself, grit her teeth around the gag, and shoved her body forward through the mud.

She squinted through the clearing haze, desperate for a glimmer of the rising suns over Woondaly, but instead she found a yellow eye watching her out of the socket of a skull.

“No way back from here,” said a kid’s voice, while Briony fell on her side and skittered back in the shallow water.

Her focusing eyes found the skinny, scruffy shape of a boy in the dark.

He wore a giant rabbit skull over his head: pale scratched bone, hooked teeth and sharp edges. It fit so snugly over his face it seemed a part of him, his own bones, his own skinless grin.

The glowing eyes stared out of the sockets on either side of the skull. The boy turned his head to stare at her.

“They tossed ya like trash.”

Briony felt small hands grab her shoulders from behind, and though she dug her tied feet in the mud, two other skull-children dragged her back toward the waiting beast. Rabbit boy bounced over the creek and followed.

They held onto her after that, careful to keep her from falling while the beast-- which Briony could now see was a shaggy old moose --stepped slower through the weeds and rocks, deeper into the night-dark of the forest.

 --

After an hour-- in the heavy darkness of a thicket --the moths fluttered out of hiding.

They glowed and shimmered dancing with the fireflies, trailing sparks of dust, revealing leaves and roots like passing ghosts in their wake.

Something bright skittered between the ferns: a chipmunk with a softly glowing belly and bright stripes down its back and tail. A fox watched from a distance, its fur spattered with shining spots, its eyes glinting cautious in the dark. A flock of little birds rushed out of a bush; each flap of wings flashed luminescent feathers.

The forest teemed with sugary light like a galaxy of skittering stars. Streaks and spots of bioluminescence moved and breathed and shivered and glowed, piercing the dark with life.

 --

Briony craned her neck to stare at the shining sparkles of a squirrel’s tail, and she forgot to struggle until the moose stopped. Small hands dragged her down and dropped her like a stone in the moss.

“What'd ya do, drag her down the river?” scoffed an unfamiliar voice.

A pair of dirty bare feet stopped in front of Briony’s face, and the speaker crouched low and picked at her hair with wiry fingers. Orange eyes glowed deep in the giant skull of a jackdaw.

“She tried ta skitter,” replied rabbit boy, perched atop a boulder above. “Wriggled off down the crick like a muskrat.”

“Well she's got nowhere to be skitterin',” said the jackdaw. She reached out with a coarse dirt-stained hand to touch Briony’s face, but the captive jerked away with a snarl.

“She's a live one!” the jackdaw laughed.

Briony's fists clenched. Her teeth bared. She listened to the forest, certain that someone was coming, surely someone had seen. She only had to stall for time until her rescue would arrive.

The forest offered only the insects. The rustle of leaves. A single, lonely birdsong.

The jackdaw clasped a hand behind Briony's head and pulled away the spit-soaked gag.

Briony dragged a ragged breath. She spat dryly on the ground and swallowed like sandpaper.

“I don’t talk to Kith,” she hissed like venom.

“Well you're talkin’ to Kith now,” said the jackdaw, “and you ain’t gonna have much else to talk to from now on.”

"LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” Briony howled, bristling. “The whole city's gonna be looking for me. The Scythes are going to find you and cut you to pieces!”

The jackdaw shrieked with laughter, her beak tossed with mirth while the other Kith giggled.

“When was the last time you can remember,” the jackdaw crowed, “a Lost One came home again?”

Briony’s mouth dropped open. Her lungs felt frozen. “I’m not a Lost One.”

“Y’are now,” rabbit boy piped cheerily.

“The Lost Ones are dead! Gone forever!” Briony shrieked. “I’m not GONE! I’m getting out, I’m going HOME, if I have to murder every one of you!”

“Yep, we’ll see.” The jackdaw waved at rabbit boy. “Cut her loose, see how far she gets in the dark.”

Briony felt the cold of a blade between her wrists, and the ropes fell away like dead snakes. Her ankles released, and she pushed rabbit boy to the ground and took off at a stumbling sprint, her legs pumping as fast as they would go, her boots skidding and twisting on the treacherous forest floor.

She thrust her arms in front of her, ripped through curtains of vines and barbed bushes, tearing blood-slick gashes in her palms, her face full of spiderwebs and her fists full of thorns, then skidded into a rocky gully and crouched among the fallen leaves to hide.

Briony was sure her thrashing heart would give her away.

She breathed quiet. Her wounds throbbed with hot pain.

She listened. She could hear rustling. The sob of a dove. The creak of a cricket. The hush of leaves in the breeze.

She could hear them giggling.

Like waking fireflies, their molten eyes opened in the dark.

They peeked out of the bushes, behind the rocks, in the branches above, like the spirits of the dead come to haunt her. They were everywhere: a hellish constellation of red smoldering stars, watching her like jackals swarmed their dying prey.

Waiting. Laughing.

Briony squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her aching jaw and pressed her bloody palms to her ears.

She thought of the terror in Runa's eyes before she'd dropped to her death.

It was the last face Briony would ever see.

---

Thanks for reading!! Concrit welcome! 💚 (this will be edited as edits/rewrites happen)

[nitewrighter]

Of Blades and Broomsticks Pt. XIX

Good News! The word count in this chapter was big enough so I don’t have to write the thing I’m really scared of writing! Bad news! I’m going to have to write that shit next chapter!

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

Read it on AO3 Here

----

“It’s not only the blood of humans, really,” Baptiste explained as the wagon rumbled through rolling hills dotted with haystacks turned silver by moonlight, “Many think it’s only the blood of humans, but since we take the form of beasts, the blood of beasts sustains us as well. Pigs and cows, mostly.”

“And the people don’t hate you?” Mercy tilted her head, mesmerized, “They’re not afraid of you?”

“I like to believe we have settled into a comfortable mutual state of… how does the phrase go—Not poking the bear. To further put people at ease, the comtesse has established herself as a protector of the humans dwelling on her land.”

“A protector,” Mercy echoed.

“Undead beget undead,” Baptiste went on, “Many of my compatriots are not as charming as me, but she keeps them in line. Keeps them from infecting too many of the populace. Those of weaker wills are very… attuned to her.”

“Like an ant queen!” said Junkenstein from the front of the wagon.

“That is a very base comparison,” muttered Baptiste, “An ant queen will expand her nest as much as she can. My comtesse understands there must be balance. A lot of them she keeps dormant indefinitely if they cannot control their thirst. Sustained by pig’s blood every few months or so.”

“How many?” said Junkenstein.

“Oh she stopped counting centuries ago,” said Baptiste, easily, “We keep meaning to run a census on the catacombs but…”

“How long have you been….?” Mercy started.

Baptiste muttered under his breath and counted on his fingers for a few seconds before saying, “I believe it will be 115 years next spring,” said Baptiste, “I actually served back when—” he caught himself and cleared his throat, “I have been honored to serve the Comtesse as long as I have.”

“What were you going to say there?” said Genji.

“Nothing,” said Baptiste.

Genji’s eyes narrowed at Baptiste, “You know we’re allowing for a lot of trust just letting you lead us into your comtesse’s lands.”

“And I am allowing for a lot of trust telling you this much,” said Baptiste, “Some stories are not mine to tell.”

“And your comtesse is fine with you freely sharing all this information about how nice she is and how she has a big army that she can wake up at any time?” said Genji, sullenly running an oilcloth over his sword.

“The spymaster is in control of how much information is allowed to spread through the land. The people don’t need to know there are thousands of our kin lying sleeping below Chateau Guillard.  But you? I do not know the full extent of any your powers, so I believe a small hint of what the comtesse is capable of is in order. Now, we too, can establish a mutual state of not-bear-poking.”

“We could probably muck things up for your spymaster blabbing about this,” said Junkenstein.

“Ah yes. But you are foreigners, and, frankly, freaks no one can possibly believe. And most humans will probably try to kill you on sight if they see your… corpulent friend back there,” he gestured back at the monster.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Junkenstein looking back at the monster, “You’re beautiful.”

The monster gave an indifferent grunt.

“But, devin-guérisseuse, you know there is no reason for us to be unfriendly with each other,” said Baptiste.

“Not currently,” said Mercy with a smile.

Genji seemed to be focusing very hard on his sword and oilcloth.

“But this spymaster you mentioned—” Mercy started.

“Ah, a brilliant woman. The most loyal lieutenant of the comtesse, her ambassadress and her master of whispers,” said Baptiste, “We would not have the peace we have now without her.”

“She must have served with the comtesse for hundreds of years!” said Mercy, her face lighting up.

“Six,” said Baptiste.

“Six hundred?” said Mercy.

“Six years,” said Baptiste.

——-

Sombra dismounted from her (well, technically Pharah’s) rouncey and shook out her legs. She had come to a stop in a small village with a still brightly lit inn. She could ask for further information on where the crows had come from here, she decided, but she knew it had to be close by. She knew it was the queen’s doing, and she knew the queen had all sorts of spies and magic up her sleeves, but as far as she knew, the queen hated humans. She was stepping toward the inn when suddenly the door swung open and a man stumbled backward out of it, tripping over the threshold, being sidestepped by Sombra, and falling in a puddle of horse piss.

“She was right! You know she’s right!” the man spat at one of the tavern keepers in the doorway.

“Go home, Henri,” said the tavern keeper.

“So we’re just going to all go home and tuck ourselves into our beds and wait for that bitch to rip our throats out? She killed my brother--”

“You don’t know that,” said the Tavern keeper.

“No, but what I do know is, he teaches his bitch of a wife a lesson, the slut runs crying to the comtesse, next thing we know, he’s gone and no one’s saying anything!”

“If he’s your brother, I’d wager he drowned in a puddle of his own vomit,” said Sombra, briskly stepping past him.

“You--” the drunkard stumbled up from his puddle, swaying, “You’re one of hers, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just getting a drink--” said Sombra, moving to step inside of the tavern but she felt a heavy hand clamp on her shoulder.

“I can smell the death on y--” the drunkard kept going before receiving a sharp elbow to the solarplexus, then a hard uppercut to the jaw that sent him reeling back flat into the puddle of horse piss once more. He groaned from where he was splayed out in the puddle.

“...I already hit him,” said the tavern keeper.

“Not hard enough,” said Sombra, stepping in to the tavern. There was a hum of concerned murmuring conversations, but as soon as Sombra stepped in to the tavern that hum fell quiet and she felt every eye in the room turn to her. There was maybe a second and a half of every patron of that tavern sizing her up before resuming their conversations--if Sombra didn’t know any better, those conversations were even more hushed now. As a spymaster, she tended to pride herself on slipping in and out of most places unnoticed, but the air had shifted in here. This was not the murmured din of a tavern she would find on any other night in her comtesse’s lands.  Something was wrong. Something was afoot. Fear was in the air, invisible and taut like spider threads. Sombra took a seat at the tavern’s bar, one close to the corner where she could still keep an eye on the rest of the room.

“Someone die?” said Sombra as the tavern keeper poured a sour red wine in a cup for her.

“One of the survivors from Adlersbrunn showed up earlier tonight,” said the tavern keeper, “She had some... warnings. It’s put everyone on edge.”

“Adlersbrunn?” Sombra repeated.

“The town that burned down?” said the tavern keeper, “All those stories--from what I heard, a witch turned into a dragon or some such nonsense, but the way this old woman was going on it was like every horrible thing was happening at once over there.”

“Dementia,” Sombra said pityingly, “These strange times take their toll on the elderly--”

“No, I’ve heard my share of rambles and slurring,” said the tavern keeper, “She was sharp. The way she spoke made you just...” the tavern keeper trailed off, staring into space, then seemed to catch himself. “Sorry,” he said with a slight head shake.

“Did you happen to see where this old woman went?” asked Sombra, sipping her wine. 

“Had my hands full getting Henri out of here,” said the tavern keeper, “But it wasn’t even an hour ago--doubt an old woman like her will be going far, this time of night.”

“Hm,” Sombra ran a fingertip around the rim of her cup, “See any crows?”

“Crows?” said the tavern keeper.

“Big flock of them, didn’t see any?” said Sombra.

“Like I said, just getting people to settle down after that old woman’s story was hard enough, if there were any, I didn’t see them.”

“Must have been quite a story. I’d like to hear it---” said Sombra, getting up and finishing her wine.

“Will the comtesse want to hear it too?” said the tavern keeper and Sombra paused mid-sip and her eyes flicked to him.

“You can tell you’re with her,” the tavern keeper kept his voice low, “The way you knocked out Henri--”

“Just a humble servant,” said Sombra with a shrug, setting her wine cup down.

“What will she do? The comtesse?” the tavern keeper asked very quietly.

“What she’s been doing,” said Sombra with a smile, sliding a gold coin across the bar, “Protect her lands.” Sombra adjusted her cloak around herself while stepping out of the tavern and into the night.

----

“You said ‘Vampire,’” said Pharah, looking at Jesse as they rode through the dark forest.

“I did, “ said Jesse.

“There are vampires now? Living-dead, bloodsucking demons? Those vampires?”

“Yes,” said Jesse.

Pharah made a stammering noise for a few seconds, but if there was anything the events back at Adlersbrunn had given her other than a grudge and endless nightmares, it was an ability to accept that certain things she had previously been comfortable to wave off as children’s stories were far more real and far less comfortable. She had been broken in to a new and horrible reality, and she could not stick her head back under the sand any time soon.

“Was she--” Pharah started.

“No,” said Jesse.

“...that’s why you had her show you her neck,” said Pharah.

“Yes,” said Jesse.

“So you’re not going to talk about how you know each other,” said Pharah.

“Ancient history,” said Jesse.

“Jesse,” Pharah said his name in warning.

“We used to work together. Now she works for the comtesse. All you need to know,” said Jesse.

“No it’s not,” said Pharah, “You invited me along because you said if you had to face all these things alone, you would probably die--What good is my help if you’re going to just keep me in the dark?! You won’t even tell me why you’re excommunicated, you--Ah!”

Jesse had suddenly drawn back hard on the reigns, bringing their courser to a sharp rearing stop. Jesse was able to stay in the saddle, but the rearing horse had sent Pharah to the ground with a grunt.

“Oh dear, dear, are you all right?” said the old woman.

Pharah shook her head and rubbed a sore bruised spot on her side, only to look up and see an old woman on the forest road, her hand over her heart in shock.

“Saints preserve us,” she said with a huff, “I thought you would have run me over!”

“Apologies, ma’am,” said Jesse, gently trotting the courser around her, “We’re in a hurry. Come on, Pharah--”

“Just a moment,” said Pharah, feeling at the interior of her pocket and realizing her adder stone had tumbled out when she fell. She looked around desperately, almost sure she had lost it and with it lost the only physical object the Witch Hunter Gabriel had ever given her, when her eyes flicked down on it. Despite being in a dark forest at night, the adder stone stood out like it was in the afterglow of a sunset. 

I’ve trained myself not to be dependent on it, but you don’t have that experience, the words echoed in Pharah’s head as she snatched the stone up.

Seek me if you have the sight, the words burned in her mind. Was the adder stone bleeding into her vision just by being carried? Unconsciously, Pharah brought it to her eye.

“What are you doing?” said Jesse.

“Just making sure of--” Pharah didn’t bother bringing down the adder stone from her eye as she turned around to look at him, but she caught the old woman in the periphery of its vision.

The old woman wasn’t an old woman. 

With a buck of her shoulder, Pharah swung her rifle into her grip and pointed it at the not-old-woman and the not-old-woman flinched back.

“Woah woah woah!” said Jesse, swinging off the horse and stepping between them, “What did you see?”

“She’s a shape-changer! Like the demon! Get away from her!” said Pharah, backing up.

Jesse took several steps back from the woman as his hand went to the matchlock pistol at his hip.

“They really are yours, aren’t they, Gabriel?” the old woman said with a smile.

“Gabriel?” Pharah could only dumbly repeat the name as the old woman cast off her mantle and her silhouette narrowed and stretched, the wrinkles fading from her face.

“What are you doing so far from Adlersbrunn, Pharah?” a voice spoke behind her and both she and Jesse whirled on their heels to see Gabriel Reyes standing behind them.

“Wh-what?” Pharah’s voice left her breathlessly, tears brimming in her eyes as she lowered her musket.

“You should be back protecting the town,” Gabriel stepped toward her.

“I had to find the witch,” said Pharah, “You couldn’t do it--you had--you were...How are you...?”

“Pharah,” Jesse said in warning, “If the old woman isn’t an old woman..”

“Oh how I love watching them try to figure things out,” said the not-old-woman.

Pharah brought the adder stone over her eye, looked at Gabriel, then dropped it with a flinch, clapping her hand over her own mouth and muffling a scream into it, staggering back from him before Jesse stopped her with a hand on her shoulder to keep her from backing into the not-old-woman.

“Pharah, you don’t understand,” Gabriel started, “It’s still me--” 

“No--!” She brought her rifle up, shaking but without the adder stone all that stood in front of her was Gabriel, she could feel her hands shaking on the stock and barrel. 

“Well clearly the subtle approach is a wash,” said the not-old-woman, snapping her fingers and letting the glamour drift off Gabriel, revealing his pumpkin head and two blunderbusses with their ember-like glow at his hips. “Shall we do it my way now?”

Gabriel gave an exhausted sigh and raised one of the blunderbusses at his side.

Pharah gasped and raised her own musket in response, only to be shoved out of the way of the fire by Jesse, firing his own matchlock pistol. Pharah let out a wordless cry as both guns went off and Jesse was sent tumbling back by the force of the blast from Gabriel’s blunderbuss, the entire front of his coat red. Jesse’s shot caught Gabriel in the gut, but he only staggered back from the impact, his hand over his gut with the expectancy of agony, to find only negligible pain. Gabriel brought his hand away from the wound in his stomach, looking at what was once his blood, but now looked like liquid fire dripped between his fingers before he felt the wound in his stomach stitch itself together with sparking embers drifting up. “Moira--”he gave a sharp glance over to the not-old-woman.

“Like I told you,” said the not-old-woman, “No death until the Witch releases you.”

“Jesse!” Pharah was at Jesse’s side, turning him over onto his back. He groaned under her touch and she let out a half-sobbing exhale with relief that he was still alive, “Jesse--” she moved to put pressure over the wounds on his chest, “Stay awake.” Jesse just groaned, turning on his side away from her and curling into a ball.

“You should get away from him,” said Gabriel.

“You should get away!” Pharah snapped, hoisting up the musket in his direction with one arm.

“You always did like the ones with fight, didn’t you Gabriel?” said Moira, tilting her head.

“I--I don’t know what you are--” Pharah was stammering.

“You have to believe me--It is me. It’s Gabriel--” Gabriel started.

“Gabriel is dead!” Pharah snapped firing off a musket ball. This one seared blazing white when it caught him in the hip. He looked down at the musket ball, burning and fizzing in his side. Consecrated, yet it didn’t burn him away. Was he not damned?

“Even with blessed lead, your musket has no power here,” said Moira, stepping next to Gabriel, plucking the fizzing white ball from his side and watching as it instantly turned back into an unremarkable ball of lead as she did so.

“You need to get out, Pharah,” said Gabriel, “Go back to Adlersbrunn.”

“I’m not leaving him!” said Pharah, bending over Jesse, “I won’t let you kill him!”

“Well you can’t say you didn’t make your offer--” said Moira with a shrug.

“He’s not going to die,” said Gabriel.

Pharah just hoisted up her musket again, moving to aim it at Moira this time.

“Jesse never told you why he was excommunicated, did he?” said Gabriel.

Pharah brought the sights of her musket down from her eyes and looked down at Jesse, “What...?”

Jesse was still curled in a ball, but twitching now, his low moan of pain giving way to something deeper and shuddering in the pit of his throat.

“You need to leave,” Jesse’s voice didn’t quite sound like his voice any more, deeper, growling.

“Jesse?” Pharah’s voice drifted away from her and she flinched back as Jesse suddenly spasmed hard.

“It was the only way I could protect him, after what happened...” said Gabriel as Jesse’s spasm now unfolded his body, making him arch his back up off the ground, his fingers clawing into the soft earth as he moaned and then suddenly his back arched again, but there was a horrible crack to it now and Pharah flinched back from him, wondering if his own spasms had killed him but still he moaned but it rumbled too much to be a moan, still his chest rose and fell, then crack-shluck, his arms and legs were stretching, bones shifting and contorting beneath his skin.

  Crack. Shluck. Crack. Crack. Shluck. Crack. 

His ribs were unfolding like you or I might uncurl a fist, making those sickening sounds all the while. Pharah was scrambling back from him, her desire to save him now overridden by the fear and revulsion of what was before her. Coarse dark fur surged over his body as his expanding bones and sinewy muscles finally ripped out from the confines of his clothing. He let out a bellow of pain, the very sound of it contorting as his nose and mouth and jaw suddenly jutted out from his face, strings of drool hanging glistening between two rows of sharpening white teeth as his bellow turned to a roar, turned to a howl. Pharah’s breath shuddered with half-sobs.

Jesse pushed himself up, towering off the ground, standing over her, his chest no longer bloody and drool dripping down from his great maw. She wasn’t even sure how big he was, he just seemed to consume all her world in coarse fur and dripping fangs and those eyes. Those big yellow eyes. He regarded her with those yellow eyes and a snarl as she stumbled up to her feet, gripping her musket in front of her. That low growl stayed in Jesse’s (could she really still call him Jesse?) throat as he leaned toward her, when suddenly there was another blast of Gabriel’s blunderbuss at their feet and the beast flinched back.

“Not her,” said Gabriel, holding a still-smoking blunderbuss. He fired it again at the beast’s feet, making it flinch back again.

The creature’s yellow eyes darted between Pharah, Moira, and Gabriel, then it snarled and took off into the woods.

“Jesse!” Pharah moved to sprint after him but suddenly stopped, frozen, arm still stretched toward him. She tried to will her feet to move but they wouldn’t, she couldn’t lower her arm, her mouth was still open, she could not close it. Purple and yellow light clouded around her like ink diluting in water as Moira stepped around her.

“Even a beastly form like that and you still move to help him,” Moira strolled around Pharah with a tilt of her head, “Is this loyalty or hypocrisy?”

“Don’t hurt her,” said Gabriel.

“Still no trust on your end?” said Moira, brushing her fingers along Pharah’s jawline, her face still frozen, though her eyes flicking around in their sockets. Moira smiled. “Not to worry, Gabriel. I won’t hurt her. She’s meant to protect humans, isn’t she?”

[starker-stories]

Quarantine Tag Game

I got tagged by the wonderful @frenchfrostpudding​ . Thank you for this. Looks fun. Ran on a bit as usual. Sorry. :)

Are you staying home from school/work?

Yes. I’m pretty home-bound, so it’s not much of a change. But it’s more complete now. No outings, no gaming nights, no shopping. I do go out to play Pokemon Go (yes, I’m lame, I still play) so that I see something other than 3 grey and 1 purple wall.

If you’re staying home, who is there with you?

My angsty x-box-addicted 18yo son. He takes care of our chicken flock and the rest of our zoo. He’s got a wickedly quick wit and is a talented artist who draws in a manga style

My 16yo autistic daughter, who is kind and loves animals like crazy. But is as lazy as the day is long like a typical teenager. But when she’s bored she’ll go into her room to sing quietly because she’s embarrassed to do it, but I can hear her from my room. She has the most beautiful voice. I don’t tell her I can hear her because I never want her to stop singing.

My ex wife and mom of the kids. We had a complicated relationship for 15 years (duh, I’m very gay) but came out of the divorce friends still. About five years ago, Katie was having very violent behavior problems and I needed help with her, so she moved into our spare room. She still has to work outside the home, so we worry about covid exposure a lot.

We have pets. There are the chickens -- 6 indoor bantam silkies (the 2 boys Ruby-roo, Danny Partridge, and the 4 hens S.W.A.N. [silkie without a name], Blue, Onyx, and Silver [who is the runt and lays the teeniest eggs!] and 6 outdoor darlings: Eggsy and Darkness [ameraucana], Yuki [Hampshire red], Pandora [silverlaced wyandotte], Elvira [black australorpe who is SO SOFT], and Emu our giant brahma rooster. The label when we bought him said ameraucana hen. NOPE. GIANT FUCKING ROOSTER! Who is an absolute sweetie and has the tiniest little crows of our 3 roos.

There are the budgies Kiki and Dot. My son has a bearded dragon named Loki. Then we have 2 fish tanks converted for mixed reptiles & amphibians. We have a toad and a tree frog, three anoles, a little gecko and a salamander. And that’s it. For now. Alex wants a snake. I want a dog. We’ll see.

Are you a homebody?

I’ve always been ‘anti-social’. Gimme a computer and I’m good. A long time ago, I’d’a said, gimme a typewriter. I gotta be able to write.

An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

I love going to the monthly Gaymer’s gathering at the LGBT center with my family, who all fall into the LGBT categories. Miss that a lot. Also the monthly CAH game at the local gamer bar. A few other gaming events.

What movies have you watched recently?

Well, there’s the continual comfort-watching of the MCU. Rewatched Toby Maguire’s first Spider-Man. Zombieland. I Am Legend, Enemy of the State, and Leon/The Professional.

What shows are you watching?

Just finished Ragnarok, Picard, the first season of Jericho, Ozark, Lost In Space (of course I watched that. There’s a pet chicken!) Tried watching The Witcher, couldn’t get past the horrible wig, stopped after 1 episode. Currently watching s3 of The Man In The High Castle. Bored af looking for a new show to watch.

What music are you listening?

Romantic era classical piano music. A bit of bel canto opera. Legendary Pink Dots and Tear Garden, Random goth/industrial stuff.

What are you reading?

Fics are my usual reading. But I’m reading ‘Filthy Shakespeare’ as my current book.

What are you doing for self-care?

Taking my meds so my writer’s block stays far, far away.

Any big projects you’re working on?

Writing the Messages Series. Trying to get the mojo back to write the one remaining chapter of An Accord that isn’t finished, the 2nd to last one. RPing a lot, which is massively fun, creative, and detailed, but prevents the writing much. Need more self-discipline to make me do both. 

Plans for when the quarantine is over?

Go back to the gamers’ meet-ups. They were pretty much my only ‘get out of the house’ things. Visit my mom and step-dad. We can’t go see them because mom has COPD and my dad has lung cancer. So since my ex-wife is still out there working and exposed, we can’t risk exposing them.

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2234

A/N: I’m so excited to publish my first multi-chapter story! This is a Michael Langdon AU based off of the Hades/Persephone myth. Feedback is always appreciated, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this first chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Hour of Our Departure | Read Ch. 2 HERE | Read Ch. 3 HERE | Read Ch. 4 HERE | Read Ch. 5 HERE | Read Ch. 6 HERE | Read Ch. 7 HERE | Read Ch. 8 HERE | Read Ch. 9 HERE | Read Ch. 10 HERE | Read Ch. 11 HERE | Read Ch. 12 HERE |

The Prince of Hell has a secret.

To be fair, Michael Langdon, the Lord of the Underworld, has many secrets. Those are secrets that he’d be proud to share, ones that would have creatures across all realms cowering at his feet in fear, awe, and envy. If this particular secret was to get out, he would be the laughing-stock of Hell.

Michael Langdon has feelings for a human. He wants to shudder at the mere acknowledgement of that; he’s not supposed to have feelings of happiness, joy, or love. The only happiness he ever feels is when he’s watching the tormented souls of the damned burn in pits. But now, whenever he lays eyes upon this woman, this mortal, he can almost feel his heart start to beat.

It’s ironic, to him, that one of the purest beings he’s ever seen lives next to a Hellmouth. Those who reside on the mortal coil know this particular portal as the Murder House, a structure in which his demons love playing. The house on one side is occupied by dust and rats, the old tenants having moved out when they saw the red skies and flocks of crows. On the other side, a house has been converted to a boarding house occupied by college students. College students are some of the best souls to take as they can be easily persuaded into dangerous situations, which has made for an enjoyable two years for some of his soul collectors working in this area. As far as the neighbors are aware, the so-called “Murder House” is undergoing a very, very long string of renovations.

In all of Michael’s centuries of ruling Hell, he’s seen the Earth change immensely. Civilizations have rose and fallen, wars have been fought, people have been born and people have died. But never has Michael been as captivated by someone as he is by you.

He often wonders what it is that draws him towards you. Is it the bright smile you always seem to have for him and everyone you pass? Could it be your choice of fashion, the pinks and blues and greens that adorn your body, so much different than his usual red and black attire? Your body itself is a whole different story for Michael. He’s seen some of the most beautiful women to ever walk the Earth, and yet they don’t hold a candle towards you.

Michael Langdon can list a million reasons why he thinks that he loves you, which is why he’s hoping that you won’t come to hate him for what he’s about to do. Although the events soon to transpire have long since been prophesied, the idea of prophecies are a very difficult thing for mortals to understand. He stands in front of the ornate mirror, watching as two servants finish dressing him. They’ve decided on his finest cloak for this occasion, beautiful silver fastenings keeping it up around his neck. A simple black suit with a red tie accompanies a swipe of red powder on the inner corners of his eyelids.

“Sire, are you sure that there’s no easier way to go about this?” Hecate, or Madison, as she preferred to go by nowadays, asks from the doorway. Michael glances at his most trusted advisor and longtime friend, shooing the servants away.

“Trust me, I’ve been trying to think of other ways. I just can’t see her believing that I’m the God of the dead without thinking I’m a crazy person. I need to show her.” Madison rolls her eyes, stalking over to Michael to redo his crooked tie.

“Just promise me that you won’t immediately resort to kidnapping a human woman and dragging her down here?” Michael shoots the woman a playful glare, batting her hands off of his tie.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a mean person.” Madison snorts at this, giving him one last glance before deeming him ready.

“Alright, Mr. Nice-Guy, you’re ready.” Michael’s palms break into a sweat, which he didn’t even know was possible until now. Letting out two sharp whistles, he waits for the sound of paws bounding down the hall. Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound, tramples into the room and immediately sits, tail wagging behind him.

“You wanna go up above, buddy?” Michael rewards the dog with a pet on each of its’ heads when he starts joyfully barking.

“Ugh, you’re taking the mutt? That’ll impress her.” Madison scoffs, watching as Michael puts a glamour on the dog. Suddenly, the once-huge beast is now the size of a normal labrador, complete with one head instead of three.

“(Y/N) likes dogs, and she’s met Cerberus multiple times.” When Michael turns his back, he hears what sounds like Madison coughing the word ‘whipped.’ He stiffens, but doesn’t turn around to take the bait. “You’re lucky I’m going to need you, or else I’d throw you in the ninth circle.” It’s an empty threat and they both know it. He and Cerberus make their way to the front of the palace, where there’s already a realm guard waiting to take the king to Earth.

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it with those looks!” Madison takes one last shot. Right before Michael’s form disappears, he flips off the delighted goddess.

You’re sitting under the shade of the large oak tree in the front yard, humming softly and working on some homework, when barking makes you look up. A grin crosses your face when a large dog comes bounding out of the house next door, chasing a red bouncy ball. When the dog sees you, he immediately abandons his toy and charges towards you. Homework is suddenly forgotten when a giant mass of fur and slobber lands on top of you.

“Well, hello there Cerberus!” The dog sits next to you, nudging his head against your chin in an attempt to get petted. “Oh I know, it must be so rough being such a cute dog.” You oblige, gladly scratching behind his ear.

“At least I don’t ever have to worry about him going too far when you’re out here.” You look up to see the man whose beauty rivals the sun. Michael, from what you’ve deduced, owns the house next door and is often over there performing renovations himself. You smile shyly, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“Be careful or else I might not let him leave next time.” You joke. You can’t help but to take note of his runway-like attire, putting your plain blue jeans and pink blouse to shame. “How do you renovate a house in a cloak, exactly?” Michael looks down, as if noticing for the first time how overdressed he is.

“I’m actually on my way to some business meetings. I had just stopped by to check on the new paint samples.”

“You seem to be making good progress on the house. Just last week it was new floors, right?” Michael nods, glancing from your face to the house.

“Would you like to take a look around? There’s been a lot of changes since the last time you snooped around inside.” Your face goes red at this. It had been a week after you first moved in with your new roommates. As a lover of the paranormal, it was basically impossible for you to not visit the infamous Murder House. When you had met Michael the following day, he mentioned that it was a delight to watch you ghost hunt through the security cameras, causing you to try and avoid him as much as possible until the embarrassment died down.

“I thought the house was abandoned!” You make your case, taking Michael’s outstretched arm. “You’re always so proper, y’know?”

“How so?”

“I’ve never met a guy who wears cloaks and escorts women like he’s going to a gala, that’s all.”

“I haven’t noticed that. I was just raised in a different time, I suppose.” You laugh.

“‘Raised in a different time?’ Michael, you can’t be more than five years older than me.” He raises an eyebrow, almost challenging you.

“Five years is quite a difference.” He jokes. Grabbing the key from one of his pockets, he unlocks the door and swings it open with a flourish. “Have a look.”

The house really has changed since the last time you were here. Gone are the creepy murals with people dying, the mosaic windows and the wooden panelling straight out of the ‘70s. Now, the interior is clean, with wide windows, a stone fireplace and dark wood floors.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” You say in awe, taking in every inch of the beautiful house. “Think you’ll finally be able to sell it?”

“I’ve actually become rather attached to this house.” Michael admits from the living room, where he’s glancing over some paperwork. Cerberus has settled on a rug, deciding now’s a good time for a nap. “I kind of want to keep it.”

“I don’t blame you.” An impish grin spreads on your face. “The ghosts haven’t scared you off?” Michael groans, playfully rolling his eyes.

“I should have known you would ask about the supposed ghosts that haunt these halls.”

“You’re telling me that with all of the knocking down walls and changing the floorplan of this place that you haven’t disturbed one of the souls that died here?” Michael has always been adamant that this is a perfectly normal house, albeit with a sordid history. “Just money-hungry people making up stories to get their fifteen minutes of fame,” he’s always responded to your questions.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, (Y/N). Maybe they just don’t believe in me, either.” He deadpans.

“Wow, you ever thought about motivational speaking?” You say sarcastically. “Did the city ever come to take away those weird jars with the body parts that Dr. Montgomery left here?” Dr. Montgomery, the ‘doctor to the stars’ in the ‘30s, ran a secret basement abortion clinic, where he also supposedly experimented with reanimation. It was gross, morbid, and a subject you were totally interested in.

“They did. We actually just started on the basement. I’m pretty sure we got all of the creepy stuff removed, but if you want you can help me sort through the items previous owners have left here.” Your eyes light up at this. Getting to look through antiques that each had their own story is extremely enticing. Michael, having already seen the gleam in your eyes, makes his way to the basement steps with his usual hands-behind-his-back gait.

The walk down to the basement is decidedly more creepy than the rest of the house. You’re not sure if it’s the general spookiness of basements or all of the illegal abortions performed down here, but you can feel a dark aura in the cavernous room. There’s an old claw-foot bathtub under one window, a couple of empty shelves, and a rocking chair that you swear is moving on its own.

“Oh jeez.” You whisper.

“Too scary for you?” A voice says in your ear. You jump, spinning and hitting Michael on the shoulder.

“You asshole! You’re lucky I didn’t punch you in the nose.” He looks entirely unimpressed at this, but you pretend to cock a fist anyways.

“Hmm, maybe next time. Most of the good stuff I’ve found is in this room.” Michael takes your shoulders and steers you towards a closed door at the opposite end of the basement. You’re not sure why, but a sense of dread fills you the closer you get to the door.

“Michael, I think I need to get going.” You say quietly, the dread increasing. You try to maneuver out of his grasp, but his grip on you only tightens.

“Just a little look, and then you can go.” Without anyone touching it, the door opens. Wind whips around you, a smell of- is that brimstone?- fills the air, and you can hear screaming from miles down. A cavernous pit stares back at you, its mouth wide and welcoming. You shriek and elbow Michael in the stomach.

He doubles over in pain, allowing you your chance. You sprint for the stairs, tripping over Cerberus, who’s not sure why you’re yelling. You yelp when your palms scrape across the rough wood, ripping open the top layer of skin. There’s no time to waste, so you haul yourself back up and try to remember the way to the front door.

“Help, he’s going to kill me!” You scream, hoping that one of your roommates will hear your calls and save you. The open front door slams shut when you’re mere feet away, startling you. A pair of strong arms wraps around you, picking you up like you weigh nothing and hauling you back downstairs. Michael ignores your screams completely, even trying to hush you.

“Michael, please don’t kill me. Just let me leave and I won’t tell anyone.” You mutter, twisting in his arms to look at his face. He smiles softly down at you, wiping the tears away from your face.

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N). I’m sorry it had to happen this way, but I promise I’ll explain everything when we get home.” The wind is howling, your hair getting caught in Michael’s face. You don’t have time to question what he’s saying before he takes a graceful step over the edge of the pit, both of you falling down below.

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

About Beth’s Death

Because I’m an idiot, and was too excited to write Beth and John before I finished re-reading the book, like I originally planned, I made a pretty big mistake about Beth’s age when she died, and when she died. This is just to clear that up and point out some things in regard to Beth’s death and how the Marches, Brookes, and Laurences handle it.

Though, of course, I still haven’t finished it yet, so I may have to edit this later as well. 

First of all, when Beth and Jo went to the sea, and Beth told her she was dying, she was 19, as Jo tells her “nineteen is too young”. I’ve seen alternating things that this was in the fall of 1869 or the spring just before before she died; 

“When Jo came home that spring, she had been struck with the change in Beth. No one spoke of it or seemed aware of it, for it had come too gradually to startle those who saw her daily, but to eyes sharpened by absence, it was very plain and a heavy weight fell on Jo's heart as she saw her sister's face. It was no paler and but littler thinner than in the autumn, yet there was a strange, transparent look about it, as if the mortal was being slowly refined away, and the immortal shining through the frail flesh with an indescribably pathetic beauty. Jo saw and felt it, but said nothing at the time, and soon the first impression lost much of its power, for Beth seemed happy, no one appeared to doubt that she was better, and presently in other cares Jo for a time forgot her fear.” 

“ "Is this what made you so unhappy in the autumn, Beth? You did not feel it then, and keep it to yourself so long, did you?" asked Jo, refusing to see or say that it was best, but glad to know that Laurie had no part in Beth's trouble.”

Furthermore, we learn this chapter, that Amy will be coming home soon: 

“  "She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time," began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth.” 

So while it is unclear the exact time of this trip to the sea, we know it’s less than a year before Amy comes home. 3 to 6 months at the most. The chapter where Amy and Laurie reunite in France seems to support the Fall of 1869 theory. 

“Along this walk, on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly, with his hands behind him, and a somewhat absent expression of countenance. He looked like an Italian, was dressed like an Englishman, and had the independent air of an American––a combination which caused sundry pairs of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him, and sundry dandies in black velvet suits, with rose–colored neckties, buff gloves, and orange flowers in their buttonholes, to shrug their shoulders, and then envy him his inches. There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but the young man took little notice of them, except to glance now and then at some blonde girl in blue. Presently he strolled out of the promenade and stood a moment at the crossing, as if undecided whether to go and listen to the band in the Jardin Publique, or to wander along the beach toward Castle Hill. The quick trot of ponies' feet made him look up, as one of the little carriages, containing a single young lady, came rapidly down the street. The lady was young, blonde, and dressed in blue. He stared a minute, then his whole face woke up, and, waving his hat like a boy, he hurried forward to meet her.”

As does chapter 40, 

“The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look round, and say "How beautiful this is!" as they all sat together in her sunny room, the babies kicking and crowing on the floor, mother and sisters working near, and father reading, in his pleasant voice, from the wise old books which seemed rich in good and comfortable words, as applicable now as when written centuries ago, a little chapel, where a paternal priest taught his flock the hard lessons all must learn, trying to show them that hope can comfort love, and faith make resignation possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who listened, for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he spoke or read.”

But the beginning of chapter 40 seems to indicate that the trip may have been in spring of 1869 and Beth’s death in Spring of 1870.

“When the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable, and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the increased affection which comes to bind households tenderly together in times of trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward making that last year a happy one.”

Everything that I’ve found, timeline wise, seems to indicate that Beth dies in Spring of 1870. The season, at the least, is supported in Chapter 38, when we learn that the twins have turned or are approaching their first birthday. And if I remember correctly, Daisy and Demi were born on or around Midsummer.

“Not being a belle or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience this affliction till her babies were a year old, for in her little world primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired and beloved than ever.”

Then, in Chapter 40, when Beth actually dies, we see 

“So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as Father and Mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.”

Now, as to Amy not being told about Beth’s illness and death. It is true that she was told to stay in Europe; at first. However, the Marches didn’t keep her totally in the dark, as she says to Laurie in France, 

“ "Beth is very poorly, Mother says. I often think I ought to go home, but they all say 'stay'. So I do, for I shall never have another chance like this," said Amy, looking sober over one page.” 

Then, we see in Chapter 41, 

“Leaving his sentence unfinished, he seized pen and paper and wrote to Jo, telling her that he could not settle to anything while there was the least hope of her changing her mind. Couldn't she, wouldn't she––and let him come home and be happy? While waiting for an answer he did nothing, but he did it energetically, for he was in a fever of impatience. It came at last, and settled his mind effectually on one point, for Jo decidedly couldn't and wouldn't. She was wrapped up in Beth, and never wished to hear the word love again. Then she begged him to be happy with somebody else, but always keep a little corner of his heart for his loving sister Jo. In a postscript she desired him not to tell Amy that Beth was worse, she was coming home in the spring and there was no need of saddening the remainder of her stay. That would be time enough, please God, but Laurie must write to her often, and not let her feel lonely, homesick or anxious.”

But later in Chapter 41,  we learn later that her family did write to tell her Beth was dying. But she never got the letter because she and the Carrolls had left France then due to the heat. 

“While these changes were going on abroad, trouble had come at home. But the letter telling that Beth was failing never reached Amy, and when the next found her at Vevay, for the heat had driven them from Nice in May, and they had travelled slowly to Switzerland, by way of Genoa and the Italian lakes. She bore it very well, and quietly submitted to the family decree that she should not shorten her visit, for since it was too late to say goodbye to Beth, she had better stay, and let absence soften her sorrow. But her heart was very heavy, she longed to be at home, and every day looked wistfully across the lake, waiting for Laurie to come and comfort her. He did come very soon, for the same mail brought letters to them both, but he was in Germany, and it took some days to reach him. The moment he read it, he packed his knapsack, bade adieu to his fellow pedestrians, and was off to keep his promise, with a heart full of joy and sorrow, hope and suspense.”

To me, this seems to indicate that the probable time frame for Beth’s death was April to May of 1870. And here, in the timeline, we see that Laurie proposes to Amy in June of 1870, so Beth’s death had to be in spring, likely before or around the time Amy and the Carrolls left Nice, France for Vevay, Switzerland. However, the timeline also says that Laurie and Amy don’t return home until after Jo’s birthday in November of 1870. I haven’t gotten that far yet, so I’m not sure. 

Will I forever be angry that we don’t actually get to see James and Laurie, and even John to a certain degree, mourning Beth like we do the Marches? YES.

Though, we do have this little tidbit of John from chapter 40 that I LOVE. 

“John quietly set apart a little sum, that he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid supplied with the fruit she loved and longed for.”

Now, Beth’s actual cause of death. We know that she got Scarlet Fever when she was 13 or 14, that it nearly killed her, and she never really recovered. And we know that lingering effects of the fever weakened and killed her. The book, however, never says how she died. And this was true of Lizzie Alcott as well. I’ve seen articles speculating that Beth had an eating disorder, which I don’t think was true at all. She was a peckish eater throughout the novel, stopping mid meal if she got emotional or excited, and she ate even less when she was ill, because she had no appetite. This article I found last night, however gives what seems to me to be a better reason for her death.

“It’s an illness that comes from the bacteria Group A strep, the same strain of bacteria that causes strep throat. The infection tends to breed in the nose and throat, and easily can be spread from person to person through coughing. It's called scarlet fever because it's characterized by a red, sore throat; a strawberry-colored, bumpy tongue; a sandpapery skin rash; and, of course, a fever, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention outlines...  Lizzie Alcott recovered from her affliction like Beth, but it weakened her heart... But we ultimately find out find out Beth's system has been weakened for good. Years go by, the sisters grow up — Meg gets married and has children, Jo is living and working in New York, the youngest sibling Amy (Florence Pugh) is in Paris working on her art — and Beth gets really sick again. This time, she's suffering from the fever’s complications... As I learned from my deep dive into the CDC's website, complications are uncommon these days, but they can happen if the group A strep bacteria spreads to parts of the body other than the throat and nose. That can lead to long-term health problems, including: tonsil infections, chronic problems in the sinuses and ears, vulnerability to pneumonia, rheumatic fever (a type of heart disease), and a kidney disease called post-streptococcal glomerulonephritis. The movie doesn’t specify which of these happen to Beth, but the book (and Alcott's history) points to severe rheumatic heart disease.“

The article, of course, focuses on the new movie that came out on Christmas with Emma Watson, Saoirse Ronan, Eliza Scanlen, and Florence Pugh as the sisters. But I feel it fits Beth in all versions. So I would say that her main cause of death was Rheumatic heart disease, and possibly the Post-Streptococcal Glomerulonephritis of the kidney as a contributing factor, maybe even Pneumonia, since she still coughs. 

Finally, Beth’s reaction to her impending death. In the book, we have the following quotes:

From chapter 36

- “They did feel it, yet neither spoke of it, for often between ourselves and those nearest and dearest to us there exists a reserve which it is very hard to overcome. Jo felt as if a veil had fallen between her heart and Beth's, but when she put out her hand to lift it up, there seemed something sacred in the silence, and she waited for Beth to speak. She wondered, and was thankful also, that her parents did not seem to see what she saw, and during the quiet weeks when the shadows grew so plain to her, she said nothing of it to those at home, believing that it would tell itself when Beth came back no better. She wondered still more if her sister really guessed the hard truth, and what thoughts were passing through her mind during the long hours when she lay on the warm rocks with her head in Jo's lap, while the winds blew healthfully over her and the sea made music at her feet.”

- “One day Beth told her. Jo thought she was asleep, she lay so still, and putting down her book, sat looking at her with wistful eyes, trying to see signs of hope in the faint color on Beth's cheeks. But she could not find enough to satisfy her, for the cheeks were very thin, and the hands seemed too feeble to hold even the rosy little shells they had been collecting. It came to her then more bitterly than ever that Beth was slowly drifting away from her, and her arms instinctively tightened their hold upon the dearest treasure she possessed. For a minute her eyes were too dim for seeing, and when they cleared, Beth was looking up at her so tenderly that there was hardly any need for her to say, "Jo, dear, I'm glad you know it. I've tried to tell you, but I couldn't." “

- “There was no answer except her sister's cheek against her own, not even tears, for when most deeply moved, Jo did not cry. She was the weaker then, and Beth tried to comfort and sustain her, with her arms about her and the soothing words she whispered in her ear."I've known it for a good while, dear, and now I'm used to it, it isn't hard to think of or to bear. Try to see it so and don't be troubled about me, because it's best, indeed it is.""Is this what made you so unhappy in the autumn, Beth? You did not feel it then, and keep it to yourself so long, did you?" asked Jo, refusing to see or say that it was best, but glad to know that Laurie had no part in Beth's trouble."Yes, I gave up hoping then, but I didn't like to own it. I tried to think it was a sick fancy, and would not let it trouble anyone. But when I saw you all so well and strong and full of happy plans, it was hard to feel that I could never be like you, and then I was miserable, Jo.""Oh, Beth, and you didn't tell me, didn't let me comfort and help you? How could you shut me out, bear it all alone?"Jo's voice was full of tender reproach, and her heart ached to think of the solitary struggle that must have gone on while Beth learned to say goodbye to health, love, and life, and take up her cross so cheerfully."Perhaps it was wrong, but I tried to do right. I wasn't sure, no one said anything, and I hoped I was mistaken. It would have been selfish to frighten you all when Marmee was so anxious about Meg, and Amy away, and you so happy with Laurie––at least I thought so then." “

- “ "Not through me," said Jo decidedly. "Amy is left for him, and they would suit excellently, but I have no heart for such things, now. I don't care what becomes of anybody but you, Beth. You must get well.""I want to, oh, so much! I try, but every day I lose a little, and feel more sure that I shall never gain it back. It's like the tide, Jo, when it turns, it goes slowly, but it can't be stopped.""It shall be stopped, your tide must not turn so soon, nineteen is too young, Beth. I can't let you go. I'll work and pray and fight against it. I'll keep you in spite of everything. There must be ways, it can't be too late. God won't be so cruel as to take you from me," cried poor Jo rebelliously, for her spirit was far less piously submissive than Beth's.”

- “Simple, sincere people seldom speak much of their piety. It shows itself in acts rather than in words, and has more influence than homilies or protestations. Beth could not reason upon or explain the faith that gave her courage and patience to give up life, and cheerfully wait for death. Like a confiding child, she asked no questions, but left everything to God and nature, Father and Mother of us all, feeling sure that they, and they only, could teach and strengthen heart and spirit for this life and the life to come. She did not rebuke Jo with saintly speeches, only loved her better for her passionate affection, and clung more closely to the dear human love, from which our Father never means us to be weaned, but through which He draws us closer to Himself. She could not say, "I'm glad to go," for life was very sweet for her. She could only sob out, "I try to be willing," while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together.”

- “Beth lay a minute thinking, and then said in her quiet way, "I don't know how to express myself, and shouldn't try to anyone but you, because I can't speak out except to my Jo. I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you. I never made any plans about what I'd do when I grew up. I never thought of being married, as you all did. I couldn't seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth, trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there. I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is the leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven." “

- “  "Dear little bird! See, Jo, how tame it is. I like peeps better than the gulls. They are not so wild and handsome, but they seem happy, confiding little things. I used to call them my birds last summer, and Mother said they reminded her of me––busy, quaker–colored creatures, always near the shore, and always chirping that contented little song of theirs. You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone. Meg is the turtledove, and Amy is like the lark she writes about, trying to get up among the clouds, but always dropping down into its nest again. Dear little girl! She's so ambitious, but her heart is good and tender, and no matter how high she flies, she never will forget home. I hope I shall see her again, but she seems so far away." “

- “ "She is coming in the spring, and I mean that you shall be all ready to see and enjoy her. I'm going to have you well and rosy by that time," began Jo, feeling that of all the changes in Beth, the talking change was the greatest, for it seemed to cost no effort now, and she thought aloud in a way quite unlike bashful Beth."Jo, dear, don't hope any more. It won't do any good. I'm sure of that. We won't be miserable, but enjoy being together while we wait. We'll have happy times, for I don't suffer much, and I think the tide will go out easily, if you help me." “

And from Chapter 40 

- “Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever, for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school children daily passing to and fro, to drop a pair of mittens from her window for a pair of purple hands, a needlebook for some small mother of many dolls, penwipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pothooks, scrapbooks for picture–loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant devices, till the reluctant climbers of the ladder of learning found their way strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as a sort of fairy godmother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude.”

- “It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as preparation for the sad hours to come, for by–and–by, Beth said the needle was 'so heavy', and put it down forever. Talking wearied her, faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble flesh. Ah me! Such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the bitter cry, "Help me, help me!" and to feel that there was no help. A sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with death, but both were mercifully brief, and then the natural rebellion over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong, and though she said little, those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore, trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river.”

- “Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said "I feel stronger when you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom asked for anything, and 'tried not to be a trouble'. All day she haunted the room, jealous of any other nurse, and prouder of being chosen then than of any honor her life ever brought her. Precious and helpful hours to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed. Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them, charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly. Often when she woke Jo found Beth reading in her well–worn little book, heard her singing softly, to beguile the sleepless night, or saw her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the transparent fingers, and Jo would lie watching her with thoughts too deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music she loved so well.”

- “ "Poor Jo! She's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to ask leave. She shows me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at this", thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart.”

- “Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble as the lines were, they brought a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had been that she had done so little, and this seemed to assure her that her life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to the bedside, hoping Beth slept. "Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it. I knew you wouldn't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with wistful, humble earnestness. "Oh, Beth, so much, so much!" and Jo's head went down upon the pillow beside her sister's. "Then I don't feel as if I'd wasted my life. I'm not so good as you make me, but I have tried to do right. And now, when it's too late to begin even to do better, it's such a comfort to know that someone loves me so much, and feels as if I'd helped them." “

- “ "I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I'm sure I shall be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take my place, Jo, and be everything to Father and Mother when I'm gone. They will turn to you, don't fail them, and if it's hard to work alone, remember that I don't forget you, and that you'll be happier in doing that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world, for love is the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the end so easy." “

- “Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words, see visions, or depart with beatified countenances, and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the 'tide went out easily', and in the dark hour before dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh. With tears and prayers and tender hands, Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling with reverent joy that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread. When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snowdrops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.”

Beth knew she was dying and accepted it. She even felt she’d die young. But she didn’t die with perfect, blind trust, and no instances of refusal, denial, or anger. 

[empressofmankind]

Father - part 1/3: ‘Birder’

“My heart is happy, my mind is free. I had a father who talked to me.” - Schola Magister Hilda ca. M2

Fandom: Warhammer 40.000

Character/s: Magos Drusher, Interrogator Brooks, Inquisitor Genevieve Helve Allenbrisk, Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn, Lord-Inquisitor Tomàs de Torquemada-Coteaz (mentioned)

Location/s: Helter Fortress

Premises: An in-between chapter for the book ‘Magos’ which can be read between chapter 6 and 7. It functions as an introduction of the primary OCs Genevieve Allenbrisk and Cristine Brooks into the book setting. Third person but narrated from Drusher’s point of view.

Mood: Odd but not too odd, like the chapters around it. Drusher is still trying to find his footing amid this new crowd.

Warnings: N/A

How could Eisenhorn have known? The thought wouldn’t leave Drusher alone. Garofar and he had spoken but not that loud. Drusher certainly hadn’t mentioned his retirement. He wandered along the battlements of Helter fortress, towards the crumbling eastern watchtower. It was sunny but the wind came down the Karanines carrying the chill of winter. It had stopped raining, for the time being. He was glad for that, perhaps he would go out beyond the decrepit castle. He halted to look out across the forest sprawling below. From somewhere nearby sounded the chac-chac of Pica gershomi between the trees. Drusher smiled. Foul weather indeed. He squinted among the nearby foliage but could not spot the little fellow.

Drusher continued along the battlements and climbed the winding stone stairs of the watchtower. What else did they want from him? The Inquisitor had sent them all from the cold room after Drusher had shared his expertise. No one had bothered to give him any further instructions. He wondered what Eisenhorn was up to. Plotting his next move, no doubt. Drusher was all but certain that he’d been right in his guess: they had already identified one of the bodies. Someone important? One of their own? He suppressed a shudder at the thought of another Inquisitor present, dead or not. Unbidden, it brought an old Guard rhyme to mind:

‘One for trouble, Two for a plot. Three for an execution; Yours, more likely than not.’

Macks had taught it to him, years ago. They had been drinking and it had seemed funny then. Eisenhorn clearly knew more than he let on but how much more? And how much did he know about Drusher? More than Drusher liked. How had he known about his thoughts on retirement? Drusher tried to shake the intrusive thought as he reached the top of the watchtower. Its roof was gone and so was most of the wall facing Helter keep. He heaved himself up on the crumbled wall and leaned his back against its sloping, stony embrace. He could see across the neglected rear courtyard and onward towards the distant Karanines. It was an excellent spot to watch the seasonal birds. He was settling in and had taken out his notebook to remark upon the forest magpie he had heard when voices drifted up from below.

He couldn’t quite hear what they said but he recognised one of them: Eisenhorn’s flat baritone. The other belonged to a woman. She spoke with an accent he couldn’t place. Her vowels went unaspirated, her speech clear and fast. She strung her words with a melodic pitch and an r that rolled for days. He looked about the courtyard but didn’t spot them until he looked straight below. On the overgrown terrace at a cast iron table in the only strip of sunlight struggling past the cloud cover and fortress walls sat Eisenhorn, the woman across from him. She wore a high collared dress, or perhaps it was a coat, as dour in colour scheme as Eisenhorn’s attire. He couldn’t see her face for the tall, wide-brimmed hat she wore. They appeared to be enjoying lunch. Eisenhorn gestured with his fork as he spoke.

Drusher didn’t mean to listen in but found himself trying to understand what they said. Who could she be? Another retainer? Eisenhorn seemed to have brought with him quite the entourage. When she reached across the table to put her hand across his, Drusher snapped his gaze away. Of all the things he’d come here to spot, that most certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Why are you spying on mum.”

Drusher flinched at the intrusion. It wasn’t a question but a demand. Clear and to the point: a statement by someone used to having their enquiries answered. He turned around, towards where the voice had come from. In the window of the only remaining wall sat a young woman. She stared at him over the edge of a large, leather-bound tome. Had she been there already? She must have been, judging by the studying detritus around her: sheafs of parchment with crow-footed notes on them accompanied by several pens, styli and a quill; a battered iSlate with detachable cogitator pad between two clunky data-banks with tangled wires; and a half-eaten starch bar and a plastek drink container beside an empty Re-cyclic H2O bottle. She must have been here for hours.

“I, uh, wasn’t spying,” Drusher replied as he adjusted his glasses.

“Yes, you were,” she declared as she uncurled herself from her window seat. She was tall and ghastly thin, the ancient book clutched in her slender arms as she strode towards him. In her old, over-sized commissarial-style coat and pointed black hat, she looked more like a runaway scarecrow than a teenage girl.

“I hadn’t realised your mother and father were in the courtyard below,” Drusher clarified. The notion of Eisenhorn having a family seemed oddly bizarre to him. Cloistered by his job and dogged personality, Eisenhorn had seemed the type that would always be alone. Undoubtedly quasi-lamenting it while patting himself on the back for his sacrifice. Drusher looked at the young woman and tried to estimate her age. Her pale skin was smooth, her features without wrinkles and her hair a fiery red still. He thought she might be 19, or in her early 20’s? Perhaps of an age with the other bookworm, Audla. He wondered then if they might be sisters.

She leaned towards him from her great height, her expression as menacing as her posture. “My father is Lord Inquisitor Tomàs de Torquemada-Coteaz, deceased M41.382; 93 years, 72 days and 5 hours ago. The greater demon Tre Mor murdered him on Prima Fossa in the closing days of the St. Aquilina de la Coeur Serré Crusades. Inquisitor Eisenhorn is my stepfather. This was not my choice to make.”

They were all but nose-to-nose now. Well, Drusher thought. Definitely not in her early 20's then. That certainly explained a thing or two. Why did the name Coteaz sound familiar to him? Where had he heard it before? Or read, perhaps. He read a lot these days. “I wasn’t spying,” Drusher repeated. “I was merely curious as to whom Inquisitor Eisenhorn was speaking.”

“He is speaking to my mother, Inquisitor Genevieve Helve Allenbrisk,” she said and gave him a look that made him suspect she thought him quite dim.

“Yes, you told me.” Drusher frowned. She looked at him as if she were expecting some sort of a reaction. Wait, her mother was an Inquisitor as well? This was becoming entirely too many of them. Unbidden, the rhyme surfaced in his thoughts again. “I am sorry, your name is?”

“Brooks,” the girl said. “Inquisitor Allenbrisk is a Chief Investigator of the Ordo Hereticus, Svarteldari Chamber, and a Radical Seeker Prime - those charged with the finding and solving of heterodoxal crimes within the Holy Ordos of the Emperor’s Inquisition. She has brought the radical Lord Inquisitor Costogue before the tribunal of Terra Formosa and arrested the fugitive corrupt cardinal Ivanka of Frostheim.”

A bounty hunter. The lady Inquisitor was a bounty hunter. Drusher realised Brooks expected him to know the woman’s name and what these evidently highly noteworthy deeds encompassed. He didn’t, of course. And presently thought that if she was on a friendly footing with Eisenhorn, Drusher would rather stay well out of her way. Birds of a kind and feather, flock and fly together.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Magos.” Brooks smiled in what she no doubt thought was a reassuring manner. “Mum only puts bad people on the pyre.”

“What a relief.” Drusher adjusted his glasses. He wondered if ‘bad people’ was defined in the same manner as ‘classified’.

“Why are you here?” Brooks demanded. She’d straightened to her full height and stared down at him.

“What? To be outside, watch birds,” Drusher responded, confused.

“No, why have you come here,” she specified impatiently. “Here, to Helter fortress.”

“It very much wasn’t by choice, I’ll have you know,” Drusher said, his tone indignant. “They lifted me from my bed in the middle of the night and forced me to come.”

“I don’t understand,” Brooks objected.

“To be perfectly honest,” Drusher conceded. “Neither do I”.

“Mum may be an Heresiarchaeologist but she has studied under Layla Lan, Archmagos Paleobiologis Genetus Prime of Glovoda. She could have joined the Martian priesthood as an Adjutor Tertium to Archmagos Lan, but she didn’t wish to leave her duties to the Holy Ordos,” Brooks explained in excruciating detail.

Now, thát was a name Drusher knew. Archmagos Lan was well known among Magi Biologis across the Imperium. She had unravelled the mysteries of palaeogenetic data-retrieval from ancient biological material. Her work had made it possible to return long fallen Astartes to their chapters. It had also led to controversy, as there were those who wished to use it on the Emperor’s mortal remains. If it had been in his nature to kill, Drusher would have killed for even a lay adapt position at the Archmagos’ feet. Adjutor Tertium? The vast majority of their colleagues didn’t even make it past Adjutor Quintus. It was an immense honour and Allenbrisk had declined it to do… whatever it is the Inquisition does, exactly. Other than strike fear into the hearts of perfectly law-abiding Imperial citizens such as himself. Were all Inquisitors like her and Eisenhorn? He had no wish to find out.

“She has the expertise necessary to identify what happened to these bodies, and where, and rule out the action of mere bears,” Brooks continued, quite unperturbed. “And I could have synthesised all additional data if she hadn’t already possessed this knowledge.”

So that was why Eisenhorn hadn’t been surprised by Drusher’s analysis: it had corroborated findings Eisenhorn had already established with a colleague. Despite himself, Drusher found he wanted to meet her - Inquisitor or not - for he hadn’t realised until that very moment how much he’d missed conversing with someone of similar expertise. “Can I meet her?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Brooks gave him a long look as if she, personally, was the metric by which it was decided whom Allenbrisk would or would not have an audience with. “Certainly.”

She picked up her iSlate, cogitator pad and data-banks, packing them into a battered suitcase along with her notes, writing utensils and foodstuff. She packed the tome last, wrapping it in a piece of cloth before putting it on top of her belongings. The brown, hard leather exterior of the suitcase was decorated with stickers and several purity seals. After closing its many straps she wrapped an exaggeratedly thick chain around it with a large, old-fashioned key lock. The suitcase looked heavy.

“Do you want help with that?” Drusher offered.

“No,” Brooks replied as she heaved it onto her back by the shoulder straps. “This way.”

Drusher followed her down the watchtower’s stairs. They traversed the battlements to the other side and descended another flight of stairs into the wall corridor. They passed several doors before entering a study. The room had been cleaned but not restored. The carpet across the uneven stone floor was threadbare but fresh straw mats had been put down. The gilded frame of the landscape painting had been polished but the antique wooden desk remained cracked with age. Several tomes, parchment sheaves, a map, dividers and compass laid on its scuffed surface. A second chair had been pulled up beside the desk chair.  The fireplace was unlit and free of ash, but the upholstery of the couches in the lounge corner had faded beyond recognition. On the claw-footed coffee table stood two glasses - one with an elaborately slotted spoon on it - laid an ornate bolt pistol and a deck of queer, crystal cards.  

Brooks crossed the study towards the opened patio doors. Drusher could see the terrace and its occupants beyond. He was struck by how seamlessly the Inquisitors blend into their surroundings. In her high, tapered hat and fashionably cut redingote, Allenbrisk looked as if she had just returned from a morning horse riding in the countryside, to have lunch with Eisenhorn. Who himself looked as if he’d stepped out of one of the great hall’s state portraits, meticulously dressed in vest and cravat as he was. His Inquisitorial seal was pinned at his throat, by way of a tie-pin. Only then did Drusher notice she sported a similar device, fastened to the decorative band of her hat. It was different in design but he recognised the thrice barred I. Without those sigils Drusher would not have been able to pick them out of a crowd of Karanine gentry, which put the wary right back in him. When first meeting Eisenhorn, he’d thought you’d know the minute he - or any Inquisitor - entered the room. To Drusher’s disquiet, that didn’t appear to be the case.

“Inquisitor Allenbrisk, Magos Drusher wishes to speak with you,” Brooks announced as they stepped outside.

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