#(last time my mother had good news that required this sort of commotion it was the 3 hour moving house and our dad went apeshit)

[elibeeline]

Sibling keeps reassuring me that its definitely good. I need it to definitely be good i swear to gods

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 7 (aka the ‘big boobie vampire mommy’ and ’mutant servant girl that is very horny for her’ chapter)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below:)

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can assist you with, tonight? It’s quite late, and my mistress has already retired for the evening due to the strenuous nature of today’s events, so while I’m sure the good Lady Dimitrescu won’t be too terribly displeased if you’ve come with urgent news that requires her immediate attention, I’m afraid anything outside the realm of absolute importance will have to wait until morning, when my mistress will be better rested and therefore better able to address whatever concern you’ve brought” The low and smooth voice of an older teenage girl said, staring slightly downward at Salvatore with a level of such blank indifference that he would have wondered if the girl hadn’t seen him had she not outright greeted him upon opening the door.

With piercing red eyes, dark skin and long, black curls tied up neatly and carefully into two thick buns on either side of the top of her head, and dressed in a pretty, but still practical dress, the older teen looked every bit as much the role of a dignified estate’s head servant as she acted, right down to the pencil straight stiffness of her body. Despite how uncomfortable the stiff position looked to Salvatore, the subtly bold way she carried herself did give the older teen an air of confidence and reliability, however what it didn’t do was answer the multitude of questions flying around in Salvatore’s head about who she was, and more importantly, where she came from.

And then it hit him.

“Y-you’re… Alcina’s g-gift… aren’t y-you?” Salvatore asks aloud, though seemingly more to himself than the girl standing in front of him. Said girl furrows her brows in confusion for a moment before huffing in, what appeared to be, mild offense. Though what on earth Salvatore could have done to offend the young teen, he had absolutely no idea.

“I have no idea what you mean when talking about these so called “gifts”, however I think it's important for you to know that I am a very busy woman with a great many things to do, so if this is all some kind of sick game you’re playing to waste my time then I’m going to have to politely ask that you take your rotten whale behind and go throw yourself into the nearest body of-”

“Anastasia?” a low, feminine voice booms from somewhere behind the older teen standing before him. The girl immediately stiffens, her skin around her nose and cheeks darkening even further, her eyes growing wide and her breath catching in her throat as she turns around. Immediately abandoning Salvatore at the still open front door, the young servant clumsily made her way further into the room before disappearing out of the narrow view the hooded man had been given of the castle through the crack in the door.

Taking a step forward and opening the door enough to slip inside, making sure to close it securely behind him, Salvatore lingered along the walls of the room, merely observing the events before him unfold as the young girl, Anastasia, quickly moved to stand in the center of the circular design on the floor of the entrance hall. Waiting for her on the landing at the top of the stairs was none other than the lady of the house herself, Alcina Dimitrescu, standing as tall, proud, and intimidating as Salvatore last remembers, though it would appear that the disfigured man’s fear of the much larger woman was not shared amongst everyone in the room.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu! Is there something I can do for you this evening, my Lady?” Anastasia asks, hands clasped together in front of her and eyes blown wide at the gargantuan woman leering from above, like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for a command from its beloved owner. Eager to perform. Eager to please.

“Why yes, my sweet, I was just wondering what on earth all that racket was and if it could wait until morning to be finished? The girls and I have had quite the taxing day and I do so wish to retire to the sound of peace and quiet” Alcina coos warmly, causing Salvatore to pause in confusion.

“Oh goodness, I apologize, mistress. It’s just that there was a visitor at the door and despite my repeated attempts to convince him to come back when you were rested, he insisted upon making a nuisance of himself. Please forgive me if my attempts to preserve your restful evening were for naught” the girl said sadly, bowing deeply in apology as she continued to speak.

Alcina practically purrs in delight at the teen’s polite, but genuine behavior. “Fear not, my dear, I had only just taken off my earrings when I heard the commotion. I came out here merely to see if things were getting out of control, but it would appear as though you’ve handled things perfectly.”

The girlish blush on Anastasia’s face only darkens in color as the young teen casts her adoring gaze to the floor, joyous glee from having been praised by her mistress evident all over the younger girl’s body.

Not wanting to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, especially if this is what he’d have to witness the whole time, Salvatore gathers all of his strength and uses it to clear his throat and take a step forward, revealing himself to both women as he gingerly comes out into the light.

“YOU!” Anastasia yells, immediately turning on her heel and making a beeline toward the increasingly anxious Salvatore. “So not only have you made enough of a nuisance of yourself to disturb the lovely Lady Dimitrescu just as she’s about to retire and rest from a very long and taxing day, but now you’ve decided that you’re so above everyone else that you can just waltz right into someone else’s home without even the slightest hint of respect or admiration for the incredible woman living in it, how dare you be so crash and selfish you overcooked blowfish, exit this castle immediately, or I’ll shove my boot so far up your rear end you’ll be fishing around for it for weeks you-”

“Anastasia, calm yourself, dear” the loud, but calming sound of Alcina’s voice said, causing the young teen to pause in her angry scolding of Salvatore.

“My Lady?” The young teen asks, dutifully awaiting orders.

“Let the wretched man inside, he’s the furthest thing from a threat to us, even if he is an annoying little manthing. Although, I’d be lying if I said a visit from you at this hour of night is something I’ve come to expect of you, dearest elder brother.”

The disfigured man swallowed thickly as he stepped past Anastasia to fully face his other younger sister, who looked all the more intimidating from her looming perch upon the upper story.

“I-I know this is s-sudden…” Salvatore begins, hoping he’d at least be able to explain himself before Alcina tossed him back outside on his ass.

“I’ll certainly say” Anastasia bursts in angrily, but she’s quickly silenced and sent away to tend to her other duties by Alcina, who motions for Salvatore to ascend the large set of stairs leading up to the rest of the castle and join her on the landing for a moment.

“Spunky little thing, isn’t she?” Alcina says when Salvatore finally makes it to the top of the stairs, panting slightly as he follows the much taller mutant’s gaze to the door that Anastasia had just exited the room from.

“Th-that’s certainly… one way… o-of putting it” Salvatore stutters, not wanting to offend Alcina by calling her servant rude, but clearly not seeing what’s so great about someone who just yells at you a lot the second you walk through the door.

“Yes! She apparently received a strain of cadou that was quite similar to mine, however her need to consume blood to maintain herself is far more similar to that of leeches. Rather than having to consume it regularly in smaller doses, like myself, she’ll only require one feeding every few weeks or so, which I thought was quite interesting. The only issues Mother Miranda brought up was the fact that her hunger, if it gets bad enough, can trigger both her transformation, as well as some sort of feral and animalistic meltdown that only ends once she’s finally had her fill. Apparently more than a few villagers were lost in the process of learning this information” Alcina comments casually, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mother only brought her over earlier today, just before dinner, and yet she’s already managed to carve quite the little space for herself here. I hadn’t realized how dirty this place was without any girls left to take from the village until she went through and washed all the walls in the west wing spotless. It was like night and day, I could hardly believe how open and bright the halls looked” Alcina stated.

“W-wow… so th-then… d-do you think y-you’ll keep her a-around… long term?” Salvatore asks curiously, craning his neck so he could get a better look at his sister’s face.

“Perhaps. I’m certainly thinking about it. Not only is she an incredibly hard and fast worker, but she’s also got such a lovely spark of energy and excitement to her, and she’s always very polite and respectful, if a bit obvious in her “admiration” of those she looks up to… not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily. It’s quite sweet, actually!”

“S-she did look… q-quite taken… by y-you” Salvatore comments, having noticed the girl’s far-too-eager-to-be-innocent disposition when Alcina was in the room, vs. when it was just him. Not that it was a terribly surprising turn of events. Alcina, for all her monstrous height and sheer mutant bulk, was still a very beautiful, and very desirable woman at the end of the day, meanwhile Salvatore was only about 2 rolls of the genetic dice away from sharing a more recent common ancestor with the blobfish than he did humans.

“I know, isn’t she adorable? She came exactly like this, too. Mother Miranda has no idea if this is a result of the mutation process or if it's merely her former personality finally returning now that she’s awake and out of containment, but I suppose the logistics of things aren’t really important in the end. I'm so glad I chose her over the other two, I don’t know what I would have done had such a promising and delectable little morsel like her go to waste on the rest of you imbeciles” Alcina coos in amusement. “Regardless of what Mother Miranda said however, I was almost certain this whole “gift” situation was going to be nothing more than a pile of useless drivel that I’d be left to clean up all on my own once the novelty wore off, however after having Anastasia here for these past few hours, and seeing all that she’s willing and capable of doing, I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps I’d been too hasty in my final decision.”

“Funny… K-Karl thought m-much the… th-the same thing i-initially… w-when I t-talked to him… th-the other day… th-though… knowing him… I doubt h-he’s having q-quite as much… of a ch-change of heart… as you a-are” Salvatore said suddenly, more than anything due to the incredible shock that was the concept of Alcina and Karl sharing a similar opinion, at the same time, while both occupying the same dimension of reality.

Alcina’s face immediately turns sour at the mention of Karl. “Oh, did he now? That’s an unfortunate thing to learn,” she says in annoyance, clearly displeased by the notion of agreeing with Karl on anything.

“Y-yes… he… he th-thinks that maybe… M-Mother might b-be using the g-gifts… to d-distract us w-while she’s g-gone away… o-on her mission… b-but that maybe… sh-she also wants… s-something else out of a-all this… something… th-that she isn’t t-telling us… f-for some reason” Salvatore explains, unsure if he should be revealing all this information to Alcina, notorious and open critic of Karl and quite literally everything the younger man has ever done and said, is doing and saying, and will do and say sometime in the span of his chaotic lifespan.

Contrary to what Salvatore assumed, however, instead of looking bored and uninterested in what Karl thought about this whole situation, Alcina looked just the slightest bit… intrigued, if still clearly wary. “Really? And what, pray tell, does our dear sweet little brother Heisenberg believe will come of this whole situation then? Did he say?”

“H-he… he never m-mentioned anything s-specific… but he th-thinks that the g-gifts… might p-play a l-larger role… in all th-this… than M-Mother has been l-leading us to believe.”

“I see,” Alcina says, remaining silent for a moment as she thinks, looking almost concerned by what she’s heard. “And what do you think of this whole mess, Salvatore?”

“U-um… well… I-I think it’s nice… th-that Mother trusts us e-enough… to g-give us her p-previous experiments… and u-use them however w-we want… b-but I’d be l-lying if I s-said… that I d-didn’t think Karl… was o-onto something… I-I don’t know w-what I believe to be t-true a-at the moment… but I d-do know… th-that I’d like t-to give… g-give a gift of m-my own… to Nadine… and that… and that y-you might be… s-someone else who c-could help me… w-with that” the hooded man explains nervously, hoping that Alcina was in a good enough mood to feel like humoring him and his sudden request.

“Nadine?” The tall, pale woman asks in confusion, before suddenly nodding in understanding. “Ah, your gift…”

Salvatore nods. “D-Donna… is f-fashioning a n-new dress… for her… a-and even gave me… this b-beautiful nightgown… to hold h-her over until… until the real one is c-complete. I th-think she w-will… e-enjoy the nightgown b-but… but I’d like to… l-like to get her something else t-too… like a… like a necklace… a-a gold one… o-one that w-would… c-complement her skin tone… j-just right.”

Alcina briefly stares at Salvatore with a blank expression, momentarily making the hooded man worry that he’d overstepped his boundaries and said something to offend the much larger woman. His nerves are thankfully calmed when Alcina turns and orders Salvatore to follow after her, which the disfigured man happily does if it means what he thinks it means.

The two siblings arrive at Alcina’s personal chambers just as Anastasia is exiting them, her arms filled by a large basket of blood soaked towels and clothes, some collected from Alcina’s room, the others likely from either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela’s rooms.

“Good evening, Lady Dimitrescu! Are you finally retiring for the evening?” Anastasia asks, bowing cheerfully as she finally notices her mistress approaching her. “I’ve already gone ahead and prepared your bed for you, as well as collected all the soiled laundry from today’s harvest. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Thank you, my dear, but not quite, I have one more matter to attend to before I fully turn in. Since you were so kind to offer however, I would greatly appreciate it if, once Lord Moreau and I are finished with our affairs, you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door and bid him a good night, for me. You are free to retire to your own chambers for the evening once he’s left” Alcina orders softly, which the young girl obediently nods her head to.

“Of course, mistress, thank you very much! And I’d be happy to see Lord Moreau out for you, so please don’t hesitate to call me once you’re finished with your meeting” Anastasia says, bowing lowly to both Alcina and Salvatore before wordlessly skittering off to do… whatever it was she planned on doing to those dirty garments.

“Now, about that gift you were talking about” Alcina says upon entering her personal bedroom, immediately striding over to her vanity and beginning to sift through several boxes worth of jewelry, “you said you wanted gold, correct? And a necklace specifically?”

“Y-yes! I-if you have anything y-you’re willing to… g-give away… of course… I’d feel t-terrible taking something i-if it meant a g-great deal to you” Salvatore answers, standing awkwardly in the doorway as he waits for Alcina to return to him with whatever she finds.

Of all 3 of his siblings, Alcina was the one Salvatore was easily the least close to, despite having been the only two around for a considerable amount of time before the eventual arrivals of both Donna and then Karl. It wasn’t that Salvatore was displeased when Mother Miranda first informed him that he’d be getting a “sibling” all those years ago, but Alcina’s natural personality, coupled with her terrifying size and strength from the mutations, had made the very meek and timid Salvatore hesitant to reach out and form any kind of sibling bond with the younger woman, like he had with Karl.

Karl was a royal pain in the ass to deal with on even his best days, but at the end of it all, there’s still only so much a 6 year old can do to you, anger issues and mutant metal bending powers or not. Alcina was both a royal pain in the ass to deal with more often than not, but also a fully grown adult when she first joined the family, so needless to say the 2 oldest siblings hadn’t been given very many appropriately opportune moments to bond or get along.

That being said however, the simple but elegant golden locket that Alcina procures from one of her many boxes of jewelry has Salvatore wondering if maybe he had misjudged Alcina, having never expected her to show him something as luxurious and real-looking as this, especially when the understanding was that she’d be giving it away whatever item of jewelry Salvatore took a liking to.

“This is an old locket I received for my 3rd birthday from a relative who died long before I was old enough to care about who they were, though all those diamond star details on the front do make me think they could have been close with us at one point, or perhaps they just had that much money to throw around? It’s an old and well-loved piece of my collection, but Duke has been bringing back such wonderful treasures from his travels that I just have to start getting rid of some of these old sentimental trinkets so I can make room for all the new additions I plan on purchasing once he finally returns” Alcina explains, gingerly handing the necklace over to Salvatore, who could do nothing but gawk at how extravagant and, to be perfectly honest, expensive the necklace looked.

With 4 small diamonds, likely real knowing Alcina, embedded into the surface of the locket’s front cover, surrounded by small engravings that give the glimmering stones the appearance of stars in the night sky, the necklace looked like it belonged upon the neck of a fair and noble princess, into which the radiant beauty could then place the photo of the man who’d stollen her innocent heart. Nadine wasn’t actually a princess and Salvatore all but gagged at the idea of a picture of his face, mutated or not, being put somewhere for anyone to see, however the necklace was far too perfect for the hooded man to possibly turn it down.

“So what do you think? Will something like this do?” The taller woman asks, curiously. “I could continue looking if that isn’t quite what you’re after, however if that is the case, then I would like to politely request that you come back and look at them tomorrow. It's already so late and I’d have to have the rest of my collection fetched from the vault downstairs.”

“N-no no… th-that’s alright… this i-is perfect… thank y-you… Alcina… this w-was very k-kind of you to do… f-for me” Salvatore says, carefully tucking the glittering necklace into the bag Donna had placed the nightgown in.

“Don’t fret about it too much, I only did it because I had a bit of time to spare prior to going to bed, and you happened to catch me in a good mood. That’s it” Alcina states firmly, though something in the back of Salvatore’s head can’t help but take the taller woman’s words with a grain of salt, feeling as though there was more to Alcina’s sudden generosity than just pure coincidence. “Besides, who knows what gaudy thing you’d have shown up with had you not made the surprisingly wise decision to invoke Donna’s and my vastly superior knowledge of the feminine experience. I don’t even want to think of what tacky little trinket you’d have tried to gift her. Why the thought of that alone is enough to make me want to run for the hills, how on earth do you think your poor little gift would have felt? I’d have had to murder you on the spot if I found out you tried to pass some disgusting pile of garbage off as an appropriate gift. In fact, if I didn’t know that Donna was working on a more fitting dress for her already, I’d have half a mind to skin you alive for only having a flimsy nightgown to take back with you, but I doubt any of the dresses I have, that would be appropriate to wear with that kind of necklace anyways, would come close to fitting her, and I really do want to start making room for some newer, more exciting pieces. So, with all that in mind, count your blessings that the stars have aligned in your favor tonight, dear brother, because I won’t be doing this for you again… unless, you’d be willing to do me a few favors in exchange for some of the other pieces of my collection, that is.”

Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s the Alcina that Salvatore knows and secretly likes. In vehement denial that she feels anything positive for her 3 siblings and also actively trying to get someone else to do her dirty work for her. It's certainly not how the hooded man prefers to operate, but he supposes that if Alcina can somehow convince everyone around her to do all of her work for her, why wouldn’t she take advantage of that as much as possible?

“I-I think that’s e-enough… for t-tonight actually… maybe i-if I decide I’d l-like to get her s-something else… I’ll c-consider that offer y-you brought up” Salvatore says, bowing politely to his sister as he makes his desire to leave obvious.

Thankfully, Alcina seems more than happy to send her older brother on his way, calling Anastasia to come lead Salvatore back to the front door so he could finally begin making his way home.

“Th-thank you again… Alcina… I really a-appreciate this… an-and I'm sure Nadine w-will love the gift t-too” Salvatore says just as he’s about to bid Alcina goodnight and begin following the young servant girl.

“Yes, yes, you’re very grateful of my wondrous kindness to you, I know, you’ve made that fact more than clear already, brother” the taller woman says with an only mildly annoyed roll of her eyes as she stands just outside the door to her chambers. “Just make sure you don’t waste the opportunity my graciousness has afforded you, do you understand?”

Salvatore stiffens nervously as Alcina shoots him a pointed look that screams ‘don’t fuck this up or I’ll fuck you up’, a threat which the hooded man knows she’ll make good on, should Salvatore make it necessary for her to do so. Salvatore wasn’t sure how Alcina had picked up on the nature of his budding affections for Nadine so quickly, or how she seemed to instinctively know what he was planning despite having never asked directly, but clearly she’d noticed something and was now in the process of making the matter of whether Salvatore successfully courted his gift her business.

Heavens above have mercy upon whomever is unlucky enough to have their problematic situation noticed and meddled with by Alcina Dimitrescu.

“Y-yes… I u-understand… an-and I’ll be s-sure not to w-waste... waste the g-golden opportunity you’ve g-given me… OH! An-and Donna w-wants her mannequins b-back... too… sh-she wanted m-me to tell y-you” Salvatore replies, his anxiety only mildly calmed when Alcina makes a face at the mention of Donna’s yet-to-be-returned-still mannequins.

“Oh for goodness sakes, I always forgot about those stupid things. Anastasia?”

“Yes, Mistress?” The young servant dutifully answers.

“Please make a note to remind me to have Heisenberg come by so he can collect and return the manequins Donna leant me while I was commissioning some dresses from her earlier this month. That foul-mouthed mutt owes me a favor, and so if all goes the way I’d like I’ll be making this his problem in the morning” Alcina says devilishly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course, Lady Dimitrescu, I’ll be sure to remind you of that first thing tomorrow morning” Anastasia replies warmly, though her amicable grin is quickly replaced by a flush and a girlish giggle when Alcina waves and turns on her heel, swaying her hips in an obvious fashion before bending down to enter through the door of her chambers.

Salvatore passed exceptionally confused glances back and forth between his sister and the young servant standing in front of him, totally clueless as to what just unfolded a moment ago as a feeling of disgust, the kind you get when you see something you wish you hadn’t, began to curl in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was that was going on in the Dimitrescu house, and more importantly with their new servant girl, it was clearly none of Salvatore’s business. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place.

Salvatore had enough problems to deal with regarding his own gift, he didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Alcina was already making moves on hers.

“Have a safe journey home, and do make sure to stop by with Nadine if things turn out well between the two of you. Based on how today played out, it would seem as though things are about to get a lot more interesting around here… and a lot more fun too. Goodnight, Dear Brother” is all Alcina says before gently closing the door to her chambers, effectively ending their conversation without so much as a single word from Salvatore, not that he minded being handed the chance to finally get out of here, especially after… whatever the hell that exchange between Alcina and Anastasia was.

Best not to think too hard about it, probably, especially when there was another woman back at the reservoir who was much more deserving of Salvatore’s lustful and impure musings.

“Uuum… the front door is this way… Lord Moreau,” Anastasia says suddenly, her face still dark from embarrassment, though whether it was from her earlier treatment of him before she learned he was another Lord and not just some random man from the village, or from… that thing he just saw that he doesn’t feel like thinking about anymore, the hooded man couldn’t tell.

Nor did he particularly care to find out.

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 12

Read on Ao3

Adrien couldn’t think of a single place he wouldn’t rather be than anywhere else at that particular moment. He’d even trade places with Chloe, wherever she was, if it meant he could get out of this particular date.

Unfortunately, no switch - or miraculous rescue - was likely to take place.

It didn’t help that he’d just spent the majority of his afternoon with Lila’s nearly-naked body pressed skin-to-skin against his - the unfortunate reality of his father’s new swimwear line - while the rest of the team fleshed out their plan. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that Lila had pushed nearly every advantage the skimpy clothing had given her, as much as he’d pretended to be oblivious.

But all Adrien had truly felt was frustrated; Lila was the last person he wanted to be around.

Pair it all with the fact that in a couple hours he and his friends would be infiltrating his fathers’ very private study, and all Adrien wanted to do was disappear into his four-nozzle shower until the steam melted him straight down the drain.

Things had slightly improved, at least: he was fully dressed now in a suit from his father’s last collection, still new enough to be considered on trend. Even as Adrien admired the fabric, he couldn’t stop the image of Marinette in a matching gown from entering unbidden into his mind. It would have been midnight blue and covered in a thousand little crystals that shimmered when she moved. She would have looked like magic and he would have been the luckiest man in the room.

But he’d never see her in that dress. She wasn’t his date tonight. If it was any consolation, he was willing to bet she was about as excited with her date as he was with his. Felix’s mouth had positively puckered when he’d discovered his part in their plan; it would have been funny if there had been anything remotely humorous about the situation.

But it was hard to laugh at much of anything when you might be sharing a home with a super villain.

“I’ll go over there right now,” Plagg had declared, half way through the wall of the fencing gym where ‘Adrien’ was supposed to have been that morning while Chat Noir patrolled. “I’ll prove it. I’ll sort this out, once and for all!”

But Adrien had stopped him. He couldn’t say it was truly for any one reason. At first he’d been erring on the side of caution: Adrien’s schedule was booked and he wasn’t due to return home until he arrived at the gala that night. He couldn’t be kwami-less if there was an akuma attack.

Then it had come down to practicality: if Adrien knew, he wasn’t going to just wait to pull off their plan. He’d cataclysm right through the floor. And unfortunately, the reckless part of him knew he wouldn’t tell Marinette about it, either, because she would try to stop him - and she’d be right. They needed the little time they had to plan.

But hours later, the waiting felt unbearable. Marinette had called with the details on his too-brief lunch break. It was simple - almost too simple. It required him to do the impossible: disappear in a crowd. Now Adrien’s skin itched with the pent-up adrenaline trying to burn through his system, begging for action.

“You ready, kid?” Plagg asked, drifting up over Adrien’s shoulder. Several empty camembert packages lay discarded on the couch in Adrien’s trailer.

“How does anyone prepare themselves for the fact that their dad might be the monster that’s been terrorizing all of Paris for over a year?” Adrien said instead. He wasn’t even being sarcastic, he genuinely wanted to know. Who could possibly come out of that kind of trauma unscathed? He doubted even Marinette’s magical ladybugs could fix that kind of damage.

“…I’m here for you,” Plagg said, unable to meet Adrien’s eyes in the mirror as he made the gesture. “You’re the best owner I’ve ever had. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“You think it’s him?” As much as the facts lined up, as much as they always had, Adrien had never been able to let go of the hope that it was all one big coincidence. After all, what were the odds Master Fu would hand one of the most powerful Miraculous to Hawk Moth’s own son?

“I think even if it’s not, you’re going to have a hard time reconciling the fact that you thought he could be,” Plagg admitted as he came to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. “Don’t shut your friends out, Adrien. That’s how you spent months looking for her in the first place.”

Adrien blew out a hard breath, turning from the mirror. As usual, Plagg had no issue bringing up the one thing he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I don’t know how to share this,” Adrien said as he reached for his blazer. “Because if I do, then that means that it’s all - ”

Real.

Even then, he couldn’t admit it. Not until he was sure.

“Lets get through this party first,” Plagg suggested, disappearing into the blazer pocket as Adrien slipped it on. “No point in unwrapping cheese you can’t finish.”

Adrien finally cracked a smile at that, but it died quickly as a knock came at the door.

He knew what he would find when he opened it, but that didn’t make it any easier to see Lila standing on the other side in a gorgeous red gown.

“Wow, Adrien, you look amazing,” she cooed, leaning in to run one gloved hand down his sleeve. “I wish I’d known which suit you were going to pick.” She pouted. “I would have dressed to match.”

He doubted it; the only way Lila dressed was to kill.

“Sorry,” Adrien said, begrudgingly offering her his arm. “My father chose it. I didn’t know which one it was going to be until after the shoot today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lila said, waving away his comment as they made their way to the car waiting for them out front. “We still make a stunning couple.”

He didn’t bother to correct her. She always insisted it was just a figure of speech or a slip of the tongue. If she wanted to live in her own fantasy, he wasn’t going to waste his time correcting her.

And yet, he found himself oddly grateful for her incessant chatter as they headed to his fathers’ fundraiser. Anything was a welcome distraction from what he was about to do.

“Ooh, look at the press, Adrien!”

The car ride hadn’t felt that long, but sure enough, she was right - they were already pulling up outside his home.

The normally stoic Agreste mansion was nearly unrecognizable. Enormous floodlights had been erected strategically around the house, and as Lila had already noted, piles of paparazzi were spilling out of the for-once-open gates. The sight of his fathers’ car had whipped them into a frenzy.

Alright then. Showtime.

Adrien waited until his bodyguard made it around the car and opened the door for them before alighting from the car. The man his mother had raised him to be made him wait for Lila, even going so far as to hold a hand out to help her from the car. Shame nudged him as she stepped smiling and waving onto the deep green carpet that led to the front door; she had her faults, but she wasn’t an evil person. He was upset with his father’s contracts more than anything. As frustrated as he might be, he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of these reporters. No one deserved that.

So he held out an elbow for her and smiled back as she took it, holding it even as a dozen flashbulbs went of in their faces.

As far as press lines went, it wasn’t the most painful one Adrien had experienced. Thankfully contractual obligations kept the reporters focused mostly on the fundraiser they were there to support, though every now and then they couldn’t help but to ask them if Paris’s heartthrob was locked up at last. Those questions Adrien was always quick to answer. The one time he wasn’t, Lila made a comment that implied if they weren’t yet, they would be, soon. It became a little difficult to maintain his generosity of spirit after that.

They’d nearly made it to the front doors when the flashbulbs erupted again.

Both he and Lila paused to see what the commotion was about, and Adrien felt his heart stop altogether.

She was so much more beautiful than he’d imagined she would be, but that was to be expected; he never could do her justice. She’d worn her hair down for once, a pink ribbon the same colour as her dress woven through the strands.

At that moment, he could have kicked himself. Contractual obligations be damned; he’d been stupid not to cease this opportunity with Marinette. He’d have done anything to be the one escorting her that night.

And just as suddenly, he realized he didn’t want to shut her out. Through the bad, maybe horrific things, for the good, possibly amazing things, he wanted to share it all with her. God, he couldn’t think of a single thing more beautiful than sharing a life with her. Even this night, this impossible evening, with the wrong girl on his arm and his father on the other side of the door, even if it made it all real…because it could be real.

“Adrien.”

Lila’s hiss drew him from his stupor, and Adrien abruptly realized that despite his best intentions, he’d likely embarrassed Lila anyway. He wasn’t actually sure how long he’d been staring after Marinette, but she and Felix had certainly drawn a great deal closer.

“Shall we?” he offered. He wouldn’t insult her further by apologizing; they both knew he wasn’t sorry.

“Of course,” Lila said. Her tone was sweet, but it set Adrien on edge. It was then he realized that Lila was now staring at Marinette, though she allowed herself to be guided through the doors.

“You didn’t say she was going to be here,” Lila snarled once they were inside.

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to approve the guest list,” Adrien said. “Regardless, I can’t control who my cousin chooses to bring as his plus one.”

Lila’s eyebrows rose. “Felix? She’s here with Felix?”

“She’s not here with me,” Adrien said. Regrettably. Stupidly. Pridefully.

That seemed to placate her. “That must be tough,” Lila guessed with empty empathy, leaning her head on Adrien’s shoulder as they entered the ballroom. The space had always seemed to Adrien to be nothing more than an embarrassment of riches. No one had balls anymore, and if they did, the Agreste’s wouldn’t. Still, his father had insisted it was historical and had had it restored with the rest of the home before they’d moved there. Regardless, it seemed to be the perfect place to hold that nights’ function.

“Father’s outdone himself,” Adrien said as they took in the crowded room, choosing not to follow Lila’s particular line of conversation.

“It’s spectacular,” Lila agreed.

Roses from their own garden had been woven in among some very realistic looking ivy that twined around the many pillars around the edge of the room. Mannequins displaying the pieces to be bid on were set between them. A string quartet was playing something jazzy in the corner, and several waiters were making rounds of the room with trays of champagne and h’ours d’oeuvres.

“Shall we?” Adrien asked, nodding to the floor where several couples were already dancing.

“Absolutely!”

Adrien let Lila pull him onto the floor and into a dance, even if she was closer than he strictly wanted her to be. The only person he’d ever danced this closely with before was -

He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t afford the distraction. It was nearly time; the only person they were waiting on now was Kagami.

“This is so nice, Adrien,” Lila murmured as they turned. “We’re perfect. Why won’t you - ”

“Don’t, Lila,” Adrien said, bringing them to a stop. “All we are is friends. All we will ever be is friends. And if you can’t respect that, all we will be is co-workers.”

Lila scoffed. “She’s here with another guy and still you won’t - ”

“Enough!” Adrien took a step back, until her hands slid off his shoulders. “This isn’t about her. It’s about me. And the truth is, she could tell me she hates me and I would still feel how I feel. You’re done. After tonight, consider yourself relieved of your duties. You don’t work for my father anymore.”

She looked as though he’d struck her, and some distant part of Adrien dimly thought that if he’d been trying not to embarrass her, firing her in the middle of his father’s fundraiser was probably not the best way to go about it.

“You…can’t,” she sputtered. “You can’t do that.”

“You’re right,” Adrien admitted, but Lila’s relief was fleeting. “But my father can, and he will once he hears about how unprofessional you’ve been.”

He almost wanted to laugh. He doubted neither he nor Lila would have much of a job after that night if they were right, but he wasn’t going to put up with this. Not anymore. He should have realized a long time ago she would never stop.

“Please, Adrien,” Lila said, latching onto his arm. “Don’t do this. I’m…I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I - ”

The stupid thing was, he wanted to believe her. He wanted to give her another chance.

But he could still feel the press of her skin against his, and he knew he was out of chances to give.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” Adrien said. “You’ve left me no choice. Excuse me.”

He stepped out of her grasp a second time, and this time he didn’t stop walking until he’d made his way to the secluded table in a shadowed corner where non-alcoholic beverages were being served. He poured himself a drink, then another. He was almost to the bottom when Kagami finally slipped in with Max on her arm. He watched as she made eye contact with Marinette, then sought him out. He stepped forward into the light and caught her gaze moments later. A nearly imperceptible nod was all the indication she gave - and all they needed.

Adrien watched as Felix and Marinette left the room first, seeming to all the world like just another couple interested in exploring the house. His heart pounded, begging him to follow, but instead Adrien turned back to the remaining guests, counting down the ten minutes until he was supposed to leave as well. That was how long he’d estimated it would have taken him to extricate himself from his date; he hadn’t been planning on efficiency.

It felt like hours before the ten minutes was up, but when it was, Adrien gave one more cursory glance to the ballroom, scanning the faces for prying eyes. Lila had apparently thrown herself into the arms of the first person to show interest and seemed bent on illustrating, most likely to him, what a great time she was having without him. Still, he took a roundabout way through the room and exited through the gardens, as though he were simply looking for some fresh air. He wasn’t so naive to think she’d let his sleight go without an attempt reconciliation - or revenge.

Adrien made his way slowly through the gardens, looking for all the world as though he was simply enjoying the evening. At least he hoped he did. Even his acting skills were stretched to the breaking point against the torrent pouring through his head. It was wordless at least, but it blocked out everything else but this single task ahead of them.

Too soon and not quick enough, Adrien found himself in front of the doors to his father’s study. He didn’t give himself time to linger; the last thing he needed was to be spotted outside the doors. Normally they’d be locked, but Felix was supposed to have rectified that.

He knocked once, then twice, their simple signal that it was a team member and not a staff member, before twisting the long handle. The door gave without protest and he slipped inside.

“You’re late,” Felix said without looking up. He was kneeling on the floor behind Gabriel’s desk, running his finger along the carpet. He’d found the seam of the hatch, Adrien realized. Neither he nor Marinette had transformed yet, relying on the excuse of two kids overextending their welcome versus two superheroes actively breaking into Gabriel’s office should they be discovered.

“Did you have trouble?” Marinette asked. She seemed relaxed, but her eyes guttered - or were those just the shadows in the dark office?

“Took the long way around,” Adrien explained, calling on Chat Noir’s transformation before crossing to Felix. Chat Noir’s night vision would be more helpful than his ordinary eyes. “Found anything?”

“The hatch is in the same place as it was in the photo,” Felix grunted as his fingers slipped off the slender seam in the floor, “But other than that, nothing. No latch, no button, nothing.”

“Maybe he opens it from his tablet?” Marinette suggested, but Chat Noir shook his head.

“Nathalie holds onto that,” Chat Noir explained. “My father would want to be able to access the hatch at will, not page someone to activate it for him.”

“The desk then?” Marinette said as Felix stood.

“Pretty minimal for a desk,” Felix muttered as he began to run his fingers across the chrome surface.

But that was his father, Chat Noir thought bitterly. Minimal office. Minimal family. Minimal love.

They all paused as Max and Kagami joined them at last in the office. If Kagami was uncomfortable to be in the same room as her ex and the object of his affections, she didn’t show it. He owed her an apology when this was all over. He’d owed her one for some time.

“Not there,” Marinette said to Felix as Max transformed near the window. Kagami kept watch at the door. “Look. The hatch doesn’t match up with where you’re standing.”

Felix snarled in frustration. “So what does it line up with?”

“The portrait,” Chat Noir said suddenly, looking past his cousin to the painting in question. “There’s a safe behind it; it’s where the Grimoire was.”

“You think the mechanism to the hatch is in the safe?” Marinette asked.

“People like my mother and Gabriel Agreste are obsessed with convenience,” Kagami chimed in. “The mechanism is likely not in the safe, but perhaps in the frame of the portrait?”

“Good idea,” Marinette said, joining Chat Noir at the portrait. “It does line up from this distance.”

“And the angle of Queen Bee’s photo makes more sense,” Pegasus agreed as he analyzed the space between the desk, portrait, and where they were standing. “I knew something about it was bugging me. There’s a 98.6% chance Kagami is correct about the latch in the frame.”

“I like those odds,” Marinette said with a grim smile.

“Let’s hope the rest of the night is as successful,” Chat Noir murmured as he turned back to the frame.

He was vaguely aware of Pegasus using Voyage behind them, of Alya and Nino and Luka joining them in the office, of Marinette, always Marinette, just a few feet away, but it was all secondary to the portrait in front of him.

He’d always thought of the portrait as proof of his father’s grief. Now Chat Noir wondered. Was it one more deception? One more lie, spoon-fed to him so easily because he wanted so badly to believe it?

He found his eyes wandering, tracing the familiar whorls and patterns in the paint. How many times had he stood in his father’s office, looking just past his father’s shoulder at the portrait, knowing the berating would get twice as bad if Gabriel thought his son wasn’t paying attention? How many times had he sought comfort in the likeness of her gaze, in the imitation of her soft smile? How many times had he stood in his father’s office, willing Emilie to step from the frame and lay a restraining hand on his father’s shoulder?

But she never had, and Adrien had been left to weather his father’s moods alone. How many hours altogether had he spent staring at the painting -

Chat Noir frowned, his eyes snagging on a piece of the portrait.

“What is it? Marinette asked, noticing the change in him at once. Perhaps she felt it, as he often imagined he could when something went amiss with her.

“This part here,” Chat Noir muttered, raising a finger as if to touch the painting. “It looks…wrong…” How could he possibly explain that there was a shadow where there hadn’t been before?

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Marinette murmured, “Try it.”

Chat Noir hesitated for only the briefest moment before he reached out and pressed a finger to the canvas. To his shock, it gave way beneath his hand, sinking into the wall.

A button.

“It didn’t do anything,” Felix hissed, stalking up behind them.

“It wouldn’t,” Chat Noir shot back, scanning the portrait for more irregularities. “Convenient, yes, but careless? Father would never make something easily accessible.”

“So what’s the hitch?” Rena Rouge wondered out loud.

“My guess?” Max said, his transformation worn off, “Multiple buttons. Each one increases security exponentially.”

“So how did Chloe find it?” Viperion wondered. There was no judgement in his voice, just open curiosity.

“We can ask her when we find her,” Felix said tightly. “We don’t have much longer.”

Chat Noir hated to admit it, but Felix was right. They’d already been missing too long.

“Tikki?” Marinette called softly. The tiny red kwami poked her head out of a hidden pocket in the folds of Marinette’s skirts and briefly assessed the room before zipping up to hover in front of her holder’s eyes. “Do you mind? The portrait itself, not the safe behind it.”

“Mhmm!” Tikki gave a cheery nod before disappearing into the canvas in a cascade of red glitter.

“Maybe that’s how she did it,” Nino murmured in the abrupt silence. “Maybe Pollen found it.”

“It’s possible,” Tikki chirped as she reappeared. “Six buttons,” she explained as she bounced along each one, “That need to be pressed simultaneously in order to trigger the trap door.”

“Thank you, Tikki,” Marinette said as the kwami came to rest in Marinette’s upturned palm. “I guess…this is it.” She turned to look at Chat Noir, and he realized everyone else had done the same. It was his plan, and his father. They would go on his signal.

“Then let’s go,” Chat Noir said.

The team backed up as Marinette and Felix transformed. In seconds, Marinette’s voluminous ballgown had been replaced by the upgraded suit Chat Noir was still trying to get used to. Felix emerged from a bright white light in the silvery, wolfish suit he’d chosen, hammer at his hip.

“Good luck,” Max said before slipping back out the door. Chat Noir knew he would be heading back to the party. If everything went to plan, Max would be refuelling Kaalki for Alya, Nino, and Luka to slip out when they returned while simultaneously keeping a lookout for anyone headed to the office.

“My turn,” Rena Rouge said with a grin. “Mirage!”

Four perfect replicas of Marinette, Adrien, Felix, and Kagami appeared in the middle of the room, soft smiles on their lips. If someone looked closely, there was a vacancy in their eyes that belied their creation, but Alya was unlikely to give anyone that opportunity

“Go,” Rena Rouge instructed, barely opening the door for them. The illusions vanished into the hall, but Rena paused before following them. “I’ll keep it going as long as I can.” The plan called for her to refresh the illusion as often as she was able, keeping the foursome as far on the fringes of the party as she was able.

“Just do your best,” was Ladybug’s hushed reply. Her friend nodded, then disappeared.

“Now the hatch,” Chat Noir said.

Koira didn’t hesitate as he stepped up to the portrait and plunged his fingers into the buttons.

The hatch dropped away with barely a whisper and the same dark tunnel from Queen Bee’s photo appeared in the floor. Chat Noir’s excuse from that morning fell to pieces; it wasn’t a second safe. The passage was far too deep for that.

“Why didn’t she come for us?” Ladybug whispered as she stared into the abyss. “Didn’t she think we would help her?”

“With what?” Koira asked roughly, kneeling by the opening. “A hole in the floor? She wanted more proof. She went to get it.”

Chat Noir could sense there was more to it that Koira wasn’t telling, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the passage long enough to think on it.

Even then, Chat Noir knew what they were going to find. Felix was right. Chloe was right. Marinette had been right. He knew it in a way he couldn’t explain, the truth suddenly and mercilessly settling along his bones. Maybe a part of him had known ever since Marinette had first brought up the possibility, when she twisted his perspective for just a moment and the entire puzzle had fallen into place. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to know, and now he had no other choice.

“Let’s go.” He barely recognized his own voice, but he didn’t care. The cool rage that had consumed him blocked out everything else.

“Chat Noir…”

He felt a hand on his arm and shook it off. He knew who it was. He knew what she would say. But he was not sitting this out. He’d been sitting out for too long. If they wouldn’t go, he would.

So he stepped into the shaft and let himself drop for several seconds before bracing his hands and feet on the cool metal sides to slow his descent. He felt rather than saw someone slip else into the tunnel, then again, and again, and again as the whole team made their descent. A green flash briefly lit the passage as Nino erected a shield over the office, their last line of defense.

It felt like hours. It felt like seconds. But when Chat Noir finally fell those final few feet and plummeted into the brightly lit, cavernous room, it was as though fate had snipped the thread of his life and he’d fallen into a new reality - a new nightmare.

“Sonofabitch,” Koira muttered, straightening from his drop beside Chat Noir. “She was right.”

Chat Noir didn’t know if his cousin meant Marinette or Chloe. He couldn’t bring himself to care as first one, than three, then dozens of butterflies flitted by them. It wasn’t an attack, he dimly registered; there were just so many it was impossible to step anywhere without encountering at least one akuma.

He started as someone laced their fingers through his. He glanced down, and there she was, as fierce as ever, still standing by his side. Unflinching. He wanted to squeeze her fingers back, but he couldn’t feel his anymore.

Viperion dropped in last and briefly surveyed the room. “Should I…?” He touched two fingers to his bracelet.

“No,” Chat Noir said. His voice sounded a million miles away, as though someone else were speaking. “I need to know this. And I need to see this to be sure. My father…is…”

“Hawk Moth,” Ladybug said. “Viperion, Koira, Ryuuko, see if you can find Queen Bee. We’ll join you in a minute.”

The three of them nodded and split to tackle the room in different directions.

“Talk to me,” Ladybug said. He recognized it as a request from his partner, who needed to know if he could still be relied on.

So he reached for that confidence, that surety that had never failed him. Of course he could be counted on for this. Of course he would never let her down.

Instead, he laughed. It started as a short giggle, but once he heard it, he couldn’t stop, doubling over at the waist, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Through his fit, Ladybug didn’t let go of his hand.

In the dim recesses of the room, they heard Koira shout: he’d found Chloe. Chat Noir laughed harder: his father had really upgraded to hostages.

“What…are…the odds…?” he finally gasped, straightening in fits and starts. “The whole time…the whole time!” And just like that, it wasn’t funny anymore. He’d known things would get worse before they could get better. He just hadn’t anticipated how much worse, or how personally.

He didn’t see the akuma coming. There were so many of them in the room, it was no wonder. He only felt it as it sank into the bell at his throat.

One second they were standing there as unbridled rage poured through Chat Noir.

The next second, it felt as though someone had grabbed hold of that rage with two hands and yanked. Suddenly, he was choking on it.

Ladybug had started talking, unaware of what had just happened, but it wasn’t her voice he heard.

“So you finally found me, hm? Unexpected…but not unwelcome.”

The rage had taken on a life of its’ own, seizing Chat Noir in away he couldn’t understand or see past. Only one thought remained, nearly destroyed by the tidal wave: Hawk Moth couldn’t know.

“What can’t I know, Chat Noir?” the voice came again. “Your identity? Or perhaps hers…?”

“Hate…you…” Chat Noir thought back viciously. He wrestled for control, but it was no use. There was no way out of the emotions Hawk Moth had whipped up in him.

“Mmm, yes, I can feel that,” came Hawk Moth’s reply. “I’ll let you have your shot at me, boy - if you bring me Ladybug’s Miraculous.”

And Chat Noir wanted to. He was tired. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of fighting monster after monster, just for things to stay the same. He was tired of being lied to. And he was tired of letting Hawk Moth dictate the game.

Which was why he finally gave in.

“Yes.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Framed.”

Hey guys, I start my new job today, so my posting schedule is going to be erratic and sort of weird, but I will try to get a story out every weekday, so I hope you like it, and have a great week :)

They met back at the station, or the Tesraki version of a police station anyway. The building they walked into was massive, rising many stories. Robots and Tesraki of all shapes and sizes moved about with the light chatter of conversation. Of course, their presence drew eyes, though no one actually paused in their work to stare. WIth the Tesraki homeworld being one giant city, there was always something to do and no time to do it.

Adam had been patched and cleaned up, his wounds stitched back together. He had even retrieved his jacket, which was significantly more battery than it was before, requiring more stitches then he had to pull back together. He had done the sewing himself and admitted that his mother would probably have had a heart attack upon seeing his work, but then again time was limited as were his resources.

The shaking had stopped many hours ago, leaving him calm and collected as they were lead through the station and back towards the elevator. The investigator they had met at the first crime scene met them on the fiftieth floor.

“Have you talked to them?” Adam asked, stepping from the elevator and out into the hallway followed by Sunny and and krill.

“Only preliminary questions. We were waiting for your investigator to step in before we started…. Our understanding of humans is limited.”

Adam pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, “probably a good idea.”

“So you think that these two attacks are related?” The Tesraki wondered as he lead the group of them down the hallway.

Adam nodded sharply, “I do.”

The Tesraki turned to look at him, ears flattening back against his head, “Are you alright Admiral. I heard that you fought off all three of them before….”

“I am alright, how about them?”

“Two of them are fine, but the third is still receiving medical care. You broke his sternum, and it is going to take some work before he recovers.”

Adam shuffled his hands inside his pockets nervously, “Whoopse.”

“You saved a life, and, in my opinion, that is all that matters. Investigators have taken statements and matched them up against your story, and everything seems to check out, so you should have no problem legally, though I would stick around for a while just in case something else comes up.”

Admiral Vir nodded, “Anything you need, Detective.”

They had just come around the corner, when a commotion from the other side of the room stopped them in their tracks. Adam turned on the spot surprised to find a group of people heading towards them at a furious pace.

At the front of the group, the detective they called in was marching, dark brown coat billowing out behind him in great whipping streams of air. The look on his face was focused and thunderous, his cold grey eyes turned on Admiral Vir and the others with dark intent.

The group of them slowed in confusion as the human and the small army of Drev and Tesraki officers followed with.

“Admiral Vir.” The Detective said, his voice booming around the room. Where their original entrance had not garnered more than a couple of glances from the assembled officers, this deep booming voice sure did grab their attention.

“Detective, wha-”

“You are under arrest!”

Adam stepped back in shock, his hands raised before his chest.

A gasp rose up around the room as everything came grinding to a stuttering halt.

“Under arrest! On what charges!” The man reached down to his side withdrawing his holstered weapon. Admiral Vir raised his hands slowly, “What is going on here.” he demanded.”

Sunny went to step in front of him, her spear raised, but he barked an order that made her stop in her tracks.

She turned to look at him and he shook his head.

The Detective walked forward glowering at Sunny, “You would do best to listen to your boss. As of yet there is no evidence liking you two to the crimes.”

He grabbed Adam by the front of his jacket and spun him around, gripping a handful of his collar as he walked him over to the side of the room, pinning him against the wall, hands still over his head. WIth a kick of his foot he widened the Admiral’s stance and began going through his pockets.

Behind them, sunny marched forward, ‘What are you talking about! Let him go! What crimes!”

“The murder of the Tesraki.”

“What!”

Andam was shoved harder against the wall as the man ran a hand over the front of his jacket and down either side.

He stopped as his right hip, reaching into his coat and confiscating his sidearm, which he handed to one of the Tesraki.

“I would never. I was off-world when that Tesraki died!”

“Don’t try to play dumb Admrial. Last night in the alley, you Killed a Tesraki and nearly murdered three other people.”

Adam spluttered in shock and confusion, “Murdered! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was in the ambulance when I-”

A sharp Jab to his ribs cut him off as the man ran a hand down either side of his legs, reaching a hand into his front and back pockets trying to find anything, “Your fingerprints were on the knife that killed the Tesraki.”

Adam shook his head in shock and confusion, “I would never kill anyone! What are you on about.”

Behind him, Sunny angrily marched forward, “Do you have any idea who he is! He’s admiral Vir, representative of the GA. So get your hands off him little man.”

She hadn’t made it more than a few steps before two big, beafy Drev stepped in front of her, both of them at least nine feet tall if not more.

She paused in her tracks as the detective grabbed the Admiral’s wrists and forced them behind his back securing them with energy cuffs.

Admiral Vir grunted, “What the fuck! I saved that Tesraki’s life. He was alive, and those three men were trying to kill him.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I…. yes! The Tesraki was fucking ALIVE when he left in the ambulance.”

“That's interesting, because I have images right here than seem to think differently.”

Adam was turned around and allowed to stand back to the wall as the Detective pulled a set of photographs from his his jacket and threw them on the floor at the Admiral’s feet.

Adam stared down in wide eyed shock as the pictures he found there. 

Bodies lying on the ground in carnage. Three humans and one Tesraki with a Knife sticking straight into its eye.

“YOu have to be pretty sick and angry to do something like that.” The detective snarled 

“But I DIDN’T He was ALIVE I…. I saved…. I saved his life. I Don’t…. I don’t understand.”

“You have a history of xenophobic behavior Admrail, so It doesn’t surprise me.”

Krill, Sunny AND admiral vir sputtered loudly at that.

Krill shook his head, “Are you fucking insane. Admiral Vir BEGGED me to come onto his ship, how the fuck is that xenophobic.”

Admiral Vir locked eyes with Sunny who was so speechless all she could do was open and close her mouth. If anyone here knew how untrue that statement was it was her.

“Look, you play a good came admiral, but I have looked over your history carefully. Your involvement in the Drev war, and your constant return to the Drev planet after that. Then of course there was the entire fiasco with the starborn, and how you are the reason humans have to wear spit shields when detained. Your tiff with Noctus, and your systematic destruction of the Gnar’lak. All of that is hardly evidence of a man who supports human alien interaction. The bran STILL don’t trust the human race because of you.”

“The hell are you talking about!” Sunny shouted, “He’s the reason the GA even ALLOWED HUMANS IN. Just call the chairwoman, she will tell you.” 

Krill shook his head, “You don’t even have to call her, there were at least thirty witnesses that saw the Tesraki leave alive.”

Adam, Krill and Sunny turned to look over at the Tesraki director, who was standing just off to the side looking down at his feet, “I am sorry Admiral, but they are right, the evidence doesn’t look good.”

More gasps.

Admiral Vir shook his head, “What are you saying! You know what happened, your men saw…”

He was cut short as the Detective prodded him in the back, “If you can provide evidence of your innocence, we will consider it, but right now i have at least 30 eye witness testimonies, a knife with your fingerprints on it and two dead Tesraki.”

“I WOULD NEVER KILL ANYONE.” He snarled completely flabbergasted at the accusations.

“Save it.” The man snarled, shoving him forward across the floor.

Adam turned back to look at sunny, who still stood dumbstruck blocked by a group of four Drev as he was dragged away. Krill was loudly proclaiming his innocence and protesting the charges as he was led back across the floor and down another group of steps.

Adam’s head spun as Sunny’s and Krill’s voices were drown out behind him.

Xenophobia…. Murder?

He had never done either of those things in his life, it was completely ludicrous. He was dating Sunny for crying out loud, how could it even be possible.

Then again no one knew he was dating Sunny, and if you looked back at his career there were plenty of things that could be taken in the wrong connotation. He thought there were plenty of more things that were irrefutable, but that didn’t seem to matter to the detective, who had already made his assumptions.

Was he part of some elaborate plot, or was he being used by someone else and fed false information. The Tesraki he had worked with on the first case seemed sure of the accusations as well, though there had been no evidence of these thoughts before today.

His boots thudded on the floor as they reached the bottom of the steps, and the Drev that held him ordered the steel door ahead to be opened. A very nervous looking tesraki pressed a button on the forward console and the interior door hissed open. He was brought into a small room, nd the door that closed behind him caused another door to open up in front of them.

The room they walked into glowed blue and purple from the energy fields on either wall where separate energy cells housed the inmates of the Tesraki jail. Most of the inmates were Tesraki, but there was at least one human curled up on their side in the corner. The way she was dressed, and how heavily she was sleeping suggested she had had an interesting night out on the town and had been pulled in for a drunken disorderly.

One of the field walls was temporarily shut off, and he was shoved into the small cramped room where he sat down on the metal bench and stared at the energy field as it was pulled back up. Outside the Detective sat watching him, looking eye to eye with each other, Adam could see what seemed like real disappointment on the man’s face.

“It’s a real shame, Admiral. I really believed you were a better man than this.”

He stood up almost placing his hands to the barrier before stepping back, “I AM  a better man than this, please just listen. I’m being framed.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“You CAN believe that, I swear. I run  a ship full of aliens if the GA wasn’t here I wouldn’t have my job. You can ask my family anyone, I would do anything for the GA, I-”

The man just shook his head and turned away leaving Adam to stare after him in complete disbelief as he did.

***

Sunny was irate. Not just irate but incoherent in her complete and utter rage. The only thing holding her back was the realization that attacking these people would get hr locked away where she would be unable to help Adam.

She couldn’t believe the allegations.

Xenophobic, xhenophobic.

She knew first had how NOT xhenophobic he was.

…. Like very much

… not even a little bit

… either that or he was good at faking it, but Adam was the worst lier she had ever met, he couldn’t fake his way out of a paper bag.

Beside her krill was arguing with one of the other officers, someone he said he recognized from last night,

“Instead of being angry like her, the little creature was pointing out all the inconsistencies she was too angry to see. Like how he hadn’t been arrested on the spot, or what those other three humans were doing there, or how Krill and Sunny had SEEN the Tesraki drive away in the emergency vehicle.

They KNEW for a fact that Adam was innocent.

Sunny was more than positive. Adam was the biggest marshmallow in the universe. It had taken months to convince him to actually fight here in the dueling ring, and try to hit her considering he was mortified of the idea of hurting her, or any number of examples off the top of her head.

There was only one conclusion to make.

And despite not being a genius like krill, she knew the answer immediately.

He was being framed.

[mamabearcat]

Hungry Ghosts

I didn’t get a chance to write anything for Halloween this year like I planned. But here’s a spooky excerpt from The Importance of Ramen, parts of chapters 7 and 8. If you haven’t read it, I think there’s enough context there for you to work out what’s going on. Hope everyone’s Halloween is going as well as it can this year!

Inuyasha went back inside the hut. The others were still asleep, but he cleaned out the firepit, replacing the slightly damp logs from last night with fresh kindling. He had the fire going and Kagome's kettle filled with water for tea by the time she returned. One look at her face had him realising that something was wrong.

She was leaning against the doorframe, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. "Sorry… I'm… okay. I'm okay. Squatting down just hurt my leg a little more than I thought it would."

Without a word, he walked over to her and picked her up, carrying her back to the small nest made by her empty sleeping bag. After seating her carefully on the softly padded surface, he placed his hand on her forehead again.

Kagome tried to weakly bat his hand away. "Stop fussing Inuyasha. I told you I'm fine. It's the first time I've walked on this leg since yesterday; it was bound to hurt a bit." She plastered a smile on her face. "Look, I'll even drink more of that disgusting tea if it will stop you making a big deal out of nothing."

Inuyasha, ignored her hand, taking in her sweaty face and pale complexion. "You're not fine, wench. You had a slight fever when you woke up this morning, and it's already a little worse. Let me look at those wounds of yours to make sure they're not infected."

The commotion had woken Miroku and Sango. Miroku brought the first aid kit over, while Sango mixed more of the herbal tea that Kagome had drunk last night. Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed but decided it would be less trouble to let everyone fuss.

Inuyasha carefully unwrapped the bandages on Kagome's upper left arm, being cautious of the still healing bruise below her elbow. He gently slid his clawed forefinger underneath the tape and gauze on one side of the wound and then the other, cutting through so he could lift the gauze off her wound. The skin around the deep cut was pink, but he could see that the wound was healing nicely, beginning to knit the muscle back together. He gave it a good sniff, just to make sure.

"This one's okay", he said. He moved aside so Sango could rub some of the healing cream from Kagome's first aid kit around the wound and redress it.

He moved towards Kagome's thigh on the other side and was surprised when she placed a defensive hand in front of it. "Kagome, I need to check."

"Sorry", she flushed, moving her hand out of the way. "I'm being a big wuss. This one just hurts a little more".

He placed his hand on the bandage and immediately knew the news wasn't good. "Kagome, this one's infected", he sighed. "I can feel the heat coming through the bandage without even looking at it."

"Dammit", muttered Kagome. "I was sure the saline would combat that."

Inuyasha removed the bandage even more gently than he had the previous one. Kagome kept herself as still as possible, making no sound, but her lowered brows and tight expression told the story of how much pain she was actually in. She whimpered a little as Inuyasha lifted the gauze away from the wound and drew in a deep breath.

"Fuck Kagome, no wonder it was hurting". The skin around the deeper puncture wound was bright red and shiny, the swelling spreading outwards around her thigh, pulling against the edges of the weeping gash. Red lines at the edge of the swelling streaked upwards on her leg. Inuyasha barely had to sniff to scent the smell of infection in her leg.

Sango peered over Inuyasha's shoulder at Kagome's thigh, and her face grew grim. "Take her back through the well, Inuyasha. She needs to get to a healer in her time as soon as possible." She gestured towards the red streaks travelling up Kagome's thigh. "These marks are a sign of a deep infection. I've seen them on other Taijiya who have been injured. Some of them recovered, but most …" She took a deep breath. "The infection grew rapidly worse no matter what our healers did. All they could do was ease their pain. Once they became confused and lost consciousness, we knew that they would never recover."

Kagome looked at them both, wide-eyed. "Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic, Sango?", she chuckled weakly. "I mean, I just got back, and we need to get back on the jewel shard hunt. I'm sure if I just rest for today, then tomorrow, I'll be fine." She took in Inuyasha and Sango's serious expressions and looked towards Miroku. "Miroku, tell them that I just need some rest, and then we can all get going again."

Miroku squatted down next to Kagome, holding the mug of herbal tea that Sango had prepared a few minutes ago. "Now, Kagome", he said, his usual calm smile a contrast to the anxious grimace on Kagome's face, "what sort of elder brother would I be if I counselled against a course of action that would have you healing faster?"

He pushed the tea into her unwilling hands, smiling encouragingly as she forced herself to sip the bitter liquid. "If it's just simple rest that you need, surely a rest in your own time in a comfortable bed under your mother's loving care will speed your recovery. And, if as Sango suggests, a trip to a healer is required, that should not trouble you if you know it will bring your family here peace of mind. I'm sure if Inuyasha puts his mind to it, he could have you home before dark."

He looked questioningly at Inuyasha, who nodded brusquely. Miroku leaned closer to Sango, who was still leaning over Inuyasha's shoulder. "Do not trouble yourself about the rest of us while you're gone, we will muddle along together just fine." A sudden resounding slap, as Sango backhanded Miroku across the cheek, startled Kagome then had her giggling. Obviously, his wandering hand had been unable to resist the temptation of Sango's pert derriere as she leant forward.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the pair's familiar antics, but didn't move from his spot beside Kagome, as Sango knelt to begin the process of rewrapping the wound in Kagome's thigh. He removed the tea from Kagome's tense hands and placed the mug on the floor, so it would not be spilt, and held her hands in his own instead. His ears drooped and laid flat on his head at the quiet whimpers escaping through Kagome's clenched teeth as Sango cleaned and packed the wound with fresh gauze.

"Looks like we're goin' on another run, wench", he said quietly. He cleared his throat, trying to force a cheery note into his voice. "Maybe if I get ya home early enough, your mother will have time to make that crunchy chicken stuff. The one Souta likes so much. What's it called again?"

"Karaage" muttered Kagome through compressed lips. She really wanted to smile at Inuyasha's attempts to take her mind off what Sango was doing, but her leg hurt so badly, even worse than when the beetle had first gouged the hole in her leg. She tried her best, gasping a little. "It's a shame she doesn't know we're coming; she might have bought steak for you."

He grinned. "Now that would be worth runnin' back for." He tried not to wince as Kagome dug her blunt fingernails into his palms as Sango tightened the bandage on her thigh.

"All done", said Sango, using some of the special cleaning gel on her hands after she had rinsed them in the water pail as Kagome had taught her. She repacked the medical kit, as Miroku and the now awake Shippou bustled about making breakfast, cooking rice and making tea.

"Drink your tea Kagome", encouraged Inuyasha, letting go of her hands to pick up the mug.

She flapped her hand at him. "Gimme a minute", she panted. "I feel like I'm gonna… gonna…" Her eyes suddenly widened as her palm slapped over her mouth. Inuyasha had the good sense to let go of the mug and grab the almost empty water pail next to Kagome, tipping the water out and thrusting it in front of her face just in time. Sango padded back over to scoop Kagome's long hair out of the way into a tail over her shoulder, rubbing her back comfortingly as Kagome hurled what was left of last night's dinner into the pail in front of her.

"Hnn, that was so gross", moaned Kagome. "I'm so sorry." She spat one last time into the bucket, then wiped her mouth with a damp cloth offered by Sango. Embarrassment flooded her face, and she hung her head. Inuyasha dipped his head down sideways until it was almost perpendicular with the floor, so he could look see her expression.

"What's with that face, wench?" he questioned, looking at her narrowed eyes and downturned mouth.

Kagome looked up, her eyes blazing in her sweaty pale face. "Do you really have to ask?", she fired back. "I got targeted by a demon again, got myself injured, and now you're gonna have to babysit me and take me home. And to top it all off, I just ruined everyone's breakfast by chucking up in front of them while they were eating."

Inuyasha grunted. "First of all, the beetle was after the shard, not you, and the way it grabbed you took everyone by surprise, me included. Second, yes, I am takin' you home, but you ain't no baby and if you sit me on the way there, I will not be happy. And" he said, glancing over his shoulder and taking in Miroku calmly sipping tea while Sango served herself rice and Shippou and Kirara continued chewing, "breakfast don't look ruined to me."

Shippou's wide eyes took everything in as he continued munching on his rice ball. "Ish Kagmee gna ee mmk?", he asked Miroku, barely coherent behind the large mouthful of rice he was still chewing.

"She will be fine. Inuyasha will make sure of it by taking her back through the well and letting healers in her time assess her injury", replied Miroku comfortingly, patting the kit on the head as he continued to drink his tea.

Inuyasha sat down with them and began shovelling rice into his mouth, sculling hot tea as quickly as he could. Sango's assessment of Kagome's wound had him worried. Put an enemy in front of him that was threatening Kagome, and he would give his all to take it down, no sweat, but infection was a battle he couldn't fight for her. His mind went back to an image of long ago, his own hand tiny in the sweaty clasp of his mother's, her eyes closed as she struggled for every breath while the infection in her lungs fought to defeat her. Darkness and cold. She was so cold. He pushed the thought away.

"Miroku, Sango, you may as well go back to Kaede's while we're gone. That way I can come back through the well and let you know she's okay." Miroku and Sango nodded. "I'm gonna go over the mountain instead of around, that should take about two hours off my time."

"Over Mount Mitsumine?", asked Miroku. Inuyasha nodded, tapping his foot impatiently as Sango tied some extra rice balls and a flask of water into a cloth for him to carry in case Kagome grew hungry or thirsty later.

Miroku was puzzled – his mind was tickling him, trying to feed him information pertinent to the shrine on Mount Mitsumine, but he couldn't quite remember. He made an angry tsking noise; it was just out of reach, and he was sure it was something of importance.

Inuyasha squatted down in front of Kagome with his back facing her. She had done her best with the tea, taking a few more sips, but looked sweaty and tired, and Inuyasha felt his concern for her rising. He pushed it down again.

"Okay Kagome, the faster we leave, the faster you can be home sleepin' in that girly pink bed a yours" he teased, as she slowly eased herself forward, draping her arms over his shoulders. Instead of holding onto her thighs as he usually did, he created a seat under her bottom for her by interlocking his fingers behind his back. He straightened himself up slowly, bouncing her slightly, getting her into position. Kagome buried her face in his hair, whimpering in pain at the pressure his forearm put on her swollen thigh. "Shit, this ain't gonna work". He was going to have to carry her in front of him again, but it was hard on his arms, and would slow them down as they went over the mountain.

Shippou's worried face brightened, and he whispered in Sango's ear. "Wait, Inuyasha, Shippou's had a really good idea!" Sango spoke to Miroku and he dropped a few coins into her hand. She bolted out the door and came back a short time later with a long piece of thickly woven indigo fabric.

"What the fuck's that for?" Inuyasha grunted. Sango motioned for Inuyasha to bend down again, then motioned for Kagome to climb onto Inuyasha's back. She put the top centre of the piece of long cloth over Kagome, up near her neck, and tucked the rest of the width underneath Kagome's bottom, creating a pocket for her to sit in. She drew the long tails of fabric up over Inuyasha's shoulders, wrapping them under his arms, and then under and over Kagome's legs on each side, pulling the tails firmly back around to the front. She held onto the fabric and motioned for Inuyasha to stand. He did so cautiously, worried that Kagome would fall, but to his surprise, she was held in tightly to his back by the fabric and felt lighter than she usually did.

"You 'kay Kagome?", he asked, trying to look over his shoulder at her.

Kagome rested her head on his shoulder. The fabric had her snuggled in tight against his back and was supporting her leg without pushing on the wound too much.

"Yeah, I'm good", she murmured. Sango tied the long tails of fabric around Inuyasha's waist, being careful to make the knot above the Tessaiga so he would still be able to draw it if required.

"Now you have your arms free if you need them", she grinned. "It was Shippou's idea – he reminded me how busy mamas carry their children when they need to get stuff done. I used to… to carry Kohaku like this when he was little, when my mother and father were away on a raid and I needed to practice my drills". She smiled a little tearfully at the picture Inuyasha and Kagome made. "He always seemed very comfortable that way – he usually went to sleep when I wore him like this." Sango tucked the small tied cloth of food into the top of the wrap near Kagome's shoulder. "Now you're all set to go".

"Thanks Sango. Thanks runt – you did good." Inuyasha paused to ruffle the fox kit's fluffy red fringe and Shippou beamed under the rare praise. After a final nod to Miroku, Inuyasha ran out the door, slowly at first, until he grew to trust that Kagome wouldn't fall. He sped up and was soon out of sight.

Sango and Shippou finished up their breakfast and began tidying everything into Kagome's gigantic backpack. Sango looked sideways at Miroku, who was still muttering to himself. "What's up?", she asked.

"There was something about the shrine at Mount Mitsumine", muttered Miroku, "but I can't quite…" Suddenly he stopped, looking apprehensively at Sango. "Oh no. Hidarugami! I remember hearing from a traveller that they haunt the trail near the shrine!" Sango stared at him, open mouthed.

Overhearing the conversation, Shippou nodded, familiar with this particular entity. "Ah. Good thing they took some rice balls with them."

👻 👻 👻

Inuyasha ran like the wind, his feet pounding the ground as regular as a heartbeat. He could feel that Kagome had dozed off, the gentle sway of the fabric hammock she was supported in easing her pain a little. Inuyasha smiled. The runt did have some good ideas occasionally. He would just keep going until she woke, get as much ground covered as he could. They were already nearly up the mountain, the zig zagging trail no match for the sure footed hanyou.

The dappled light under the trees kept away the summer heat, and the splashing water from the little waterfall they were currently passing was refreshing. Brightly coloured finches flew overhead, flying through the spray in an effort to keep cool. He could keep going for a few more hours yet without needing to take a break. He could see the brightly coloured gate of Mitsumine Shrine up ahead. They just needed to get through this narrow-wooded part first and then the path down the other side of the mountain would open out, as more travellers from Edo used that road to make a pilgrimage to the mountain shrine.

Suddenly he felt like he'd hit a wall. Weakness caused his limbs to tremble and he dropped to one knee, staggering, trying to keep his balance with Kagome on his back. What the fuck was going on! His throat felt dry and cracked, his stomach clenched in on itself like hadn't eaten in weeks. He lurched to his feet and forced himself to keep moving, but each step dragged like something was siphoning off every ounce of energy he'd ever possessed.

Inuyasha growled in outrage. He would not let whatever this barrier was beat him. He would keep going. Kagome needed him to keep going. He heard her moan softly behind him, and it gave him the will to take a few more steps before his legs faltered and he slammed into the ground face first.

"Gome", he whispered, turning his face away from the sandy dirt of the mountain pass, his sandpaper dry throat cracking what was left of his voice, "you 'kay?" She moaned softly again, and against his will, Inuyasha's eyes rolled back in his head. The cheerful birds continued their twittering, splashing in the puddles left by the side of the waterfall, paying no heed to the pair collapsed on the path beside them.

👻 👻 👻

Kagome was jolted out of her doze as Inuyasha staggered beneath her, dropping to one knee. A sudden wash of fear prickled the back of her neck as the dappled sunlight around them was swallowed up; she could no longer see the path ahead, and the air was suffocatingly silent.

Turning towards the waterfall her panic grew as she realised that the previously tumbling water was still. The little finches hung motionless in mid-air, the droplets of mist they had been flying through only moments before hovering as if gravity had ceased to exist. They were caught in a bubble outside time, and she had no clue what had caused it. Kagome shivered, about to question Inuyasha about what had caused his stumble, when a slight movement in the trees caught her eye; she saw them.

She felt almost paralysed by bone deep terror as the shadowy forms approached from the darkened edges of her vision. There was movement on both sides of the path, they were surrounded, but it was difficult to see any details of what they were or to count how many as they shifted in and out of the darkness. Ten, twelve maybe? Whatever they were, they gave off an undeniably menacing aura.

This wasn't good. Her bow had been left with Miroku and Sango, not that she would be able to shoot with her injured arm, and she didn't have much experience channelling her miko abilities without the focus of an arrow. Her hands and arms were tucked in tightly to her chest; she could try to wriggle them free with an effort but was worried that would throw off Inuyasha's tottering balance.

Then Kagome realised that she wouldn't be able to bring her reiki to her hands anyway, not without injuring Inuyasha. She clenched her shaking fingers into fists tight against Inuyasha's back, unable to do anything but watch and wait as the pack of unknown foes came forward into the dim light and circled around them. Kagome felt bile burn its way into the back of her throat. She had already felt ill, but to see these things up close…

Empty sockets where eyes once where, skin stretched taut over bone they advanced, lipless mouths leering in delight at the fear of their prey. Ragged kimonos and wisps of hair fluttering in a ghostly breeze of their own making, they floated around Kagome and Inuyasha, no feet to tie them to the earth. Some appeared to have lost their kimonos entirely, clothed only in tattered fundoshi, bone white skin as tight as a drum over ribs, stomachs distended with malnutrition and split with decay.

As they approached in an ever-tightening circle, the ominous silence was replaced by sibilant whispers of hunger and death. Inuyasha staggered to his feet, moving forward on the path, but how could he, when the path was no longer there? She heard him growl in rage as he struggled forwards, and she couldn't help but let out a small moan of horror as she felt the slight brush of ragged cloth against her cheek as one of them glided towards her.

The spectre reached out a bony hand and caressed Kagome's dark hair, running her locks through its skeletal fingers almost as a lover would. The head sagged on an inhumanely long neck, and the eyeless creature licked where its lips once were, tongue blackened and swollen. "You will join usss", it whispered, bending its head close to her ear and she shuddered, recoiling at the unwanted touch. She almost screamed as the dry tongue curved along the rim of her ear. "Join usss, in hunger, join usss in death."

The spectre's head lolled forward as it turned its eyeless gaze towards Inuyasha. The realisation suddenly hit her that he couldn't see the spirits; had no idea of the threat they were facing. Before she could free her arm to try and knock the spectre's hand away, it reached out towards Inuyasha's face as he grimly struggled to keep moving forwards, a light touch sweeping across his mouth and nose. Kagome would have shrieked if she was not already breathless with horror as Inuyasha pitched forward suddenly, slamming them both into the damp sandy earth of the mountain path.

She watched as Inuyasha dragged his face sideways in the dirt, his beautiful amber eyes clouded in pain. "Gome, you 'kay?" he asked, his voice raspy. She wanted to answer, to give him some reassurance, but could only produce a small sound of fear.

What should she do? How could she fight back? She didn't want to accidentally purify Inuyasha with her reiki; she didn't even know what these things were, just that they spoke of hunger and death and that she was terrified of them. Inuyasha's eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and with horror she felt his breathing become shallow, his heartbeat slowing with every beat. She was frantic. He was going to die, here on this path, and she was powerless.

A small thought swelled in her mind, bright as a bead. 'You are not powerless. You are a shrine maiden, a miko.' Pulling together her last vestiges of courage, Kagome closed her eyes, and imagined a thin beam of reiki that rose up into the air then spread outwards like an umbrella, forming a bubble of protection around herself and Inuyasha. She had no idea if her effort was affecting these things, and her mind churned, searching every memory for an inkling of what these creatures might be, trying not to weep at the sound of Inuyasha's rattling breath. She didn't think they were demons. Not demons, but dead things. Dead things on a deserted path, that wanted them to join them in death. Hungry dead things. Hungry ghosts. A long-forgotten memory suddenly unfolded.

Her father was whistling cheerfully, preparing for a weekend hike with his friends. She was sitting on the kitchen counter nearby, swinging her little legs. One by one, she handed him his first aid supplies to be packed into his backpack, and she grinned in excitement at being considered old enough to help Daddy while Mama went outside to hang out the washing. Grandpa had come into the kitchen to make tea. He rifled through the pantry and grabbed a package of mochi, pushing them into her father's hands.

"Don't forget my son, you should take these with you. It's always better to be safe than sorry when walking on a mountain path." Her father had rolled his eyes and then winked at her, but willingly packed the mochi into his backpack.

"Don't worry father, I'll be sure to be on the lookout for hungry ghosts."

Hungry ghosts. She vaguely remembered legends about those that died far from home during famine times. Their lack of proper burial caused them to wander in continued pain and hunger, and they lingered on deserted paths to force others to join them in death. That had to be what these things were! But how did you get rid of them? Was she meant to recite a prayer?

She gritted her teeth at her lack of knowledge; she was sure that Miroku would know this. Why had her grandfather suggested that her father carry mochi? Maybe it was something to do with food. Did you feed them, or yourself?

Using her last reserves of energy, Kagome wiggled her arms that were pinned by the tight wrap against Inuyasha's back, panting with the effort of maintaining the barrier. Managing to free them enough to reach the cloth that Sango had tied the rice balls and bottled water in, she frantically scrabbled to untie the knot with numb fingers, her terror rising as Inuyasha's laboured breaths stilled - then began again, now so shallow that they were almost a sigh.

'Gotta hurry, gotta hurry!' She was gasping in her haste, hoping against hope that the barrier that she'd tried to erect was keeping the ghosts at bay. There were two rice balls. She broke one in half and stuffed a chunk into Inuyasha's lax mouth and the other half in her own, then hurled the remaining rice through the paper-thin barrier at the spectres looming over them. After gulping down her own rice, she stroked Inuyasha's face and neck with shaking fingers. His usually tan skin was paper white, a bluish tinge spreading around his mouth and nose.

"Inuyasha, swallow. You have to swallow the rice." Hysterical tears rolled down Kagome's panic-stricken face, dripping onto his hair and cheeks as her voice grew more shrill. "Inuyasha! Please, please wake up. Stay here with me, don't go with them!" She tried tilting his head back by pushing on his chin, hoping it would cause a swallowing reflex, but terrified that in his unresponsive state she would force him to choke. Her panicked voice and stroking must have reached him on some level; his throat moved slightly as he swallowed a small morsel of rice without opening his eyes.

As if a switch had been flicked, the horror was gone.

It was a beautiful summer's day. Birds chirped cheerfully, flying through the rainbow hued spray thrown up by the gurgling waterfall, splashing noisily in the puddles, twittering their enjoyment. Noticing the cooked rice now scattered on the path, they swooped, squabbling and pecking, eager to take advantage of an easy meal. The dappled sunlight patterned the ground around them, leaves swaying in the breeze, and the delicate green of the forest framed the colourful gate of the shrine clearly visible up ahead.

Kagome dropped her head to Inuyasha's shoulder and sobbed quietly, releasing the barrier as the intense fear gradually ebbed away. She felt utterly drained. She took comfort in Inuyasha's heart beating steady and true beneath her, his back muscles moving rhythmically with each firm inhale and exhale of air. Her sobs suddenly turned to giggles when Inuyasha popped open an eye and spat the remaining rice out of his mouth, coughing and spluttering a little, wiping at his face. Rising on his elbow, he turned to look over his shoulder at her, growling his annoyance. "Kagome, why is there fucking rice up my nose?!"

[be-dazzled]

The Art of Falling

Chapter II LOVE, AN ABSTRACT CONCEPT

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser, Gajeel Redfox Alternative Historical Universe Genre: Old World Vibes, Period Romance All Chapters: Click here

Writer’s Corner: I think we have to make this one alternative historical since, Juvia will obviously maintain her blue locks. She isn’t Juvia if she won’t. Also, as promised, this is going to be a monthly update. So, see you next September! Let me know what you think. Show your girl some love.

Masterlist

“Let me put this into perspective,” Lady Mika Fullbuster slowly started, trying to make sense out of Gray’s proposal, “this woman you speak of, the woman who left you beaten out in the cold, is the woman you wish to marry?”

The gentleman seated opposite her inside the carriage was looking out the window, at the passing scenery through the small frame of the horse-drawn carriage. He expelled a breath of exasperation as he repeatedly answered the question since the first night he proposed the notion.

“Mother, no matter how many times you ask, the answer will remain unchanged.” Gray did not take his eyes off the window as he answered; finding the herd of cattle tended by an old cattleman far more interesting than to keep repeating himself. So, he only heard his mother turn to the patriarch for confirmation.

“And we are going to allow this?”

“The Locksers aren’t a bad family, dear. I’ve met the gentleman many times.” There was a rustle of paper as Silver turned the page of the periodicals he was reading. “As a matter of fact, their family was one of the original settlers of Magnolia. They still have some connection, although very little.”

It took Gray a week or two to finally find the peculiar woman he met at the night of his welcome party. It came as a surprise to him when he learned that Juvia Lockser, one of the daughters of the Lockser family, had lived her entire life in Magnolia. She didn’t seem to share the genteel modesty expected of the ladies of such prestigious town. But who was he to judge as he only met him through those humiliating affairs.

“That wasn’t what I meant, dear.” The other half of the Fullbuster couple swiftly rectified. There was a slight embarrassment in her tone as she feared that her question was deemed critical of the Locksers. “I am only concerned for our son’s well-being. For him to marry a woman he just met in such an extraordinary circumstance…” She trailed off, mulling over her next words.

Gray had an idea what his mother was most worried about – that he would be bringing an unrefined lady into the Fullbuster family. It was, after all, his mother’s duty to see to it that the woman he chooses to marry was fit for the Fullbuster name. That meant that his future wife must possess all his mother’s requirements. Unfortunately, Juvia Lockser seemed to have fallen short of those requirements. So, why was he squandering time travelling to the Lockser household? He could simply not tell them the true reason. Hence, he covered with, “She is the woman I choose.” As if his words offered any explanation but certainly resolve.

“If she tickles his fancy, my love, there is nothing either of us can do about it.” He folded the paper and turned to his wife, saying his next words with finality and resignation. “The heart desires what it desires.”

His father’s words pulled Gray’s attention towards the couple who shared a look filled with silent adoration. It made Gray consider about ‘his heart’s desire’? It was preposterous to think that a heart, a living organ inside his chest, a mere tool for his blood circulation, had the ability to contemplate on wants or desires when the heart lacked a brain on its own. The mind, logic, those were the things that seek for purpose, for desire, for ends and, without a doubt, not an organ like the heart. What a preposterous notion.

Silence once again settled above their heads as the carriage continued to traverse the dirty road towards their destination – the Lockser Home.

…

“My dear, my dear! Come downstairs this instant!”

The Lockser patriarch, with his dull, blue hair sticking flatly to his head, descended the steps with lazy strides.

“What is with this commotion so early in the morning?” he riled, not sparing a glance at the woman jumping at the landing of the staircase, something she’d never done in decades.

“What’s lighting your bottoms, my dear?”

“Oh, my dear, Mr. Lockser,” she swooned beside her husband, feeling lightheaded with the news that came to her this morning, “you have no idea what fortune is about to befall our suffering family.”

“Our family is only suffering from your cry of woes, Mother.”

The Lockser sisters trailed behind their father with Eliana, Juvia and Wendy falling in line on the narrow staircase. The eldest, disapproving of Juvia’s attitude, reprimanded her with a loud slap on the shoulder.

“Don’t speak to mother in such a manner, Juvia. A proper lady only speaks politely.”

As Juvia opened her mouth and about to retort, Eli knew better to cut her off.

“What is this good fortune you speak of, Mother?”

“Oh, my loveliest daughter Eliana!” she exclaimed, caressing the eldest Lockser’s smooth skin of her cheeks with her palms. “Lord Fullbuster has sent word that they are heading to pay our family a visit!”

There was no other news that could send Mrs. Lockser into a high spirits other than even the slightest prospect of an offer of marriage from a wealthy gentleman.

“Oh, Eli!” Elmara flatted the strands of hair into Eliana’s clean and tight bun and pretended to brush imaginary dust on the Eldest’s shoulders, preparing the young lady for the destined meeting. “You must have captured the heart of the Lord’s son. Oh, what beauty!”

“But I haven’t met the Lord’s son, Mother.”

Juvia had this bitter feeling starting at the pit of her stomach. The Lord’s son? She would not have the chance to know the Lord’s son since she did not stay long enough to meet him. But somehow, she felt something she could not place a finger on. Like, something was amiss. Strangely, her mind travelled back to the night she met that debauch of an opportunist and her anger with his shamelessness made her blood boil. An ugly idea crossed her mind, but which she quickly dismissed. There was nothing noble about that lad except for his expensive coat he forced upon her which later, she realized, she badly needed. Catching herself thinking about him again, Juvia dragged herself back to reality – the bothersome reality of her mother preparing the eldest Lockser for a possible destined meeting. She couldn’t fully sort out her feelings about it; about the possibility that Juvia might have to lose her eldest sister in marriage and that saddened her. But to Eliana, she seemed enamored about the idea.

In a rush, the family’s help broke into the living room with an announcement.

“Lord Silver Fullbuster, Lady Mika Fullbuster and their son, Lord Grayden Fullbuster.”

Elmara did everything in her power not to squeal and embarrass herself and, in extension, her entire family. Fearing that she was in earshot of the guests, she restrained her voice as Mrs. Elmara Lockser spat out her orders, forcing her family to arrange some staged presentation to somehow make the Fullbusters believe that the Locksers still possessed the gentry they once held, to which her family fell uncomfortably into.

“Tell me why are we pretending to be something we are not again?”

“Just be quiet, young lady.” The reprimand was spoken through gritted teeth and an awfully pretentious smile. “Do not ruin this opportunity for your sister.”

But to this kind of larking around, Juvia saw an ally. She threw a knowing glance at her father. They shared a resigned smile and a shrug of the shoulders. Her father has long accepted that Mrs. Lockser’s priority was finding a suitable mate for their daughters. That if she failed to do so, Mrs. Lockser deemed herself an unfit mother. As the head of the family, however, Mr. Julian Lockser still had the last word.

The old wooden floors of the house creaked as it welcomed the nobility that paid the Lockser household a visit. It was Lord Silver Fullbuster himself, aided with a cane, who introduced himself first, his wife and then his son, Grayden Fullbuster, who was the one who had business to discuss with the family.

Juvia’s expression was one which seemed like she saw a ghost or thought that maybe her eyes deceived her. But her vision was clear as day. The shameless man who did all sort of unspeakable things to her back at the party now stood before her and her family, walking in with one of the most powerful and influential families in Magnolia. There was a bad feeling gripping at her, disliking the road where her thoughts led. She wanted to leave, to discreetly escape from the house. It was a tad too late as the moment his dark blue eyes locked with Juvia’s, Gray immediately recognized the woman who visited his mind quite frequently. She sternly met his gaze and he held her foreboding glare as long as he could.

Oblivious of the staring match his second daughter and the son of his guests engaged in, Mr. Lockser invited one and all to the parlor. Mrs. Lockser, who was pleased more than anyone, apologized for the current state of the room, only to give off false humility.

“We were not expecting your arrival, Your Lordship.” Elmara waved the help into the room and offered the guests her finest tea and bread. “Please, help yourself with the refreshments. I understand you have travelled far only to meet our humble family.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Lord Silver accepted, resting his cane against his chair’s armrest and made himself comfortable on his seat. The Lady, on the other hand, was still quite reserve; contrary to the friendliness her husband displayed. Lady Mika has yet to make her mind about the Locksers. So, as her husband enjoyed himself with the offered treats, Lady Mika stated their purpose.

“We apologize for coming without prior notice.” She started. “However, I believe my son has a matter to discuss with your daughter. One which cannot be simply delayed.”

All expectant blue eyes, varied in shade, landed on the aptly dressed young lord. He was initially surprised by the sudden attention. Then, he coughed into his fist and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Yes. Our purpose for coming here.” He said inaudibly, as if reminding himself of their goal. Finally composing himself, Gray met those expectant eyes without waver. “I would like to request a private audience with your daughter...”

Juvia prayed he would say the right name as the rest of the Locksers, save her father, held their breaths.

“Ms. Juvia.”

Juvia knew what everyone was thinking; she thought of it too. How could a man of his stature look pass the real beauty in the family? Was he blind? Has he lost hold of reality?

“My daughter Juvia?” Elmara repeated, releasing the breath that hitched in her throat and voicing the question the rest of the Lockser family had in mind.

“Yes.” Gray reiterated, meeting the doubtful eyes of Mrs. Lockser, and then turned to the woman who was the purpose of his long journey. “The second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lockser, if she would allow.”

Albeit still quite confused, Elmara turned to her second daughter, uncertain of what to say or how to react, exactly.

“Then, Mr. Fullbuster…” Both men of the Fullbusters answered, making Juvia realize her mistake. “I meant, Mr. Grayden, please come follow me.” Juvia excused herself from the room, expecting the lad she requested to follow her where they could discuss their matter more privately.

Juvia gathered the skirt of her dress, only to pull the hem above her ankle, so she could ascend the stairs more quickly, without sparing a glance behind her. If Mr. Grayden Fullbuster lost his way around the Lockser home, she’d feel much better. She traversed the narrow hallways to bring the man to the room she shared with her sisters, only to have him keep himself behind the threshold, reluctant to take another step.

“Would it really be alright if I…” the gentleman’s voice trailed off, his dusky eyes inspecting the small room, taking inventory of its minimal contents, until he met Juvia’s reticent stare. “If I enter your personal room?”

“I invited you, haven’t I?” If he wasn’t too confident or too sure of himself when he spoke to her parents earlier, Juvia would have assumed that the gentleman who refused to enter a woman’s room without permission was a nervous wreck. She watched him hesitantly cross the threshold into her room but maintained a distance between them.

“I shall not waste your time any longer and quickly state my business.” He took a deep breath, making it quite obvious that it was his first time to be in such a situation. “It is of common knowledge by now that I am to inherit my father’s estate. It is estimated at about–” Gray’s speech was abruptly cut when something textured hit his face and darkened his vision. He removed the clothing and realized it was the coat he lent the woman the night they met.

“I assume you are here for that. It must be expensive, after all.”

This time, when Gray met her eyes, he caught him staring at the strong-willed pools, same as those the night of the fateful meeting. There was no more of that modesty she pretended she had around her family. She was, once again, the defiant girl who left him in cold blood, out in the streets after the air left his body with a single punch. This was the girl who he came here for and he was unsure why he was quite relieved when Juvia behaved more like the peculiar woman at the party.

“Ah, yes. Thank you.” Confronting a woman like Juvia left his mind all befuddled that he, for the first time in his life, was at loss for words. Gray shook his head, finding the act ironically useful to clear his mind. “But my purpose for coming isn’t just about this coat. No.” He corrected himself. “My purpose for taking the journey isn’t about this coat at all.”

With a clearer mind, his intention swam into focus. Gray stepped forward, bridging the small distance between him and the woman, and settled the coat on the bed nearest to Juvia.

“I, Grayden Fullbuster, would like to ask your hand in–”

“No! Don’t speak of it!” Juvia’s blue eyes turned into angry oceans.

Gray had to take a step back, to keep his distance as her harsh tone made him feel unwelcomed. He beseeched her eyes, searching for a reason that could possibly explain how his attempt to ask her hand in marriage might offend the woman. All he found were her deep-seated ire to his audacity and a buried ache that she probably did not wish for him to see. Perhaps Juvia saw the confusion in Gray’s remorseful stare that she chose to hide and turn her back on him. The young lord felt a bitter taste stir in the pit of his stomach, burning its way up his mouth. How a gentleman could cause a lady such pain?

“I just wanted to take responsibility for that night.”

Juvia faced him again, her face twisted in an expression of pure arrogance. “I never asked you to.”

The declaration came as another surprise. This woman, the woman standing her ground so firmly, so determinedly, was no one like any other he had met before. Gray was growing impatient that despite himself, the young gentleman had raised his voice over the lady.

“We found each other under circumstances that must only transpire between married couples. I invaded your personal space. You look at me defiantly as against tradition. I put my hands on you without permission. Yet you refuse my proposal?”

There was no more pain but her eyes held such fierce fury that burned Gray’s skin. “I am not aware of how you perceive a man and a woman should behave around each other nor would I give it time in my day. Despite appearances, Mr. Fullbuster, I am a woman who will only marry for no other reason than love.”

Before taking the journey to the Lockser Household, Gray Fullbuster had practiced his speech, selecting the words with utmost consideration. Doubts frequented his mind about the second daughter accepting his offer. With the way she carried herself so differently from the women that came before her, he had expected Juvia to act and decide reasonably. To accept the gentleman’s offer of mutually beneficial partnership was, in all sense, very logical. Grayden Fullbuster was a man who had a lot to offer: fortune and prestige as among others. Any woman would be induced to accept his proposal of marrying into the noble clan of the Fullbusters. Hence, he could not seem to fathom how a sensible woman such as Juvia would even entertain the idea of love. But Gray Fullbuster ought to laugh at himself for expecting something so usual and ordinary from an extraordinary woman such as Juvia.

His silence stretched on, making the young lady uncomfortable. In her final act of rejection, she turned away from him again, and broke the silence with her own proposal.

“I understand your Lord and the Lady have traveled this far only for it to be unfruitful. I am not the only daughter in this household.” There was a slight twinge of ache in her chest that ran deep than the mere rejection of the marriage for the wrong reasons. “You might have noticed the beauty might eldest sister possesses.” Who could have not seen and appreciated the beaut that is Eliana Lockser? “Perhaps, you’d take fancy on her.”

If she was being honest to herself, a part of Juvia wanted him to reject the idea. A part of her wanted to believe that the proposal of marriage was Gray’s sincere offer. A part of her wished he’d noticed her own charm in spite of the presence of the most beautiful Lockser sister.

A part of her, however, believed that in a world where Eliana existed, Juvia could not.

“Perhaps.”

And that part of her, laughing at her own silliness to dream, had always been right.

…

Like the way they arrived, the Fullbusters travelled back home in silence. But despite the lack of exchange between the parents and the only son, the heir of Lord Silver Fullbuster, Gray’s head was far from at peace. Juvia’s words about seeking marriage for love had Gray question his own belief system.

Love? Wasn’t love a mere chemical reaction in the brain? A by-product of the need to procreate?

“Did she accept?”

Gray lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s inquiring look. “She imposed upon me a condition.” He answered.

“What condition?”

“That I make her fall in love with me.”

Love. An abstract thought which cannot be seen nor held. Something Gray had yet to understand the concept of. That which no one could ever fully explain, not by his books or any accounts to those who fell victim to it. How, then, could he make Juvia Lockser fall in love with him?

[volkswagonblues]

prologue to my zukka biopunk role-reversal AU

note: It’s technically a sequel to Through the Ice Darkly, but you don’t need to read it for this snippet. All that’s required to know is that it’s set in a world where the Northern Water Tribe attacked instead of the Fire Nation. Instead of ATLA’s steampunk world, the NWT and SWT developed biopunk technologies instead. Zuko, growing up in a conquered nation, is still obsessed with the Avatar. Sokka is still the son of Hakoda, chief of the SWT, though because his society isn’t ravaged by war, he has more time for his scientific interests. 

Though of course, in ATLA-verse, science and spirituality are two sides of the same coin...

They were great adapters, Sokka’s people. Clever and resourceful, they were hunters and dreamers and storytellers. Like ice, they knew how to move and reform with the seasons.

They called themselves the Southern Water Tribe, not because some among them had the power to bend water, but because they thought of themselves as water. They understood and respected the great flexibility of the world.

prologue - when Sokka meets Koh the Face Stealer - snippet under cut

The summer that Sokka was ten, Bato brought him to a hunting camp situated at the mouth of a wide bay, about two days’ journey away from Sokka’s normal home in the capital city. Sokka’s grandmother was there, along with a dozen or so families. They were there to hunt the enormous shoveller deer whose herds migrated to find food in the warmer months. Where the deer went, humans followed. And that summer, Sokka was one of them. 

The summer that Sokka was ten, Bato brought him to a hunting camp situated at the mouth of a wide bay, about two days’ journey away from Sokka’s normal home in the capital city. Sokka’s grandmother was there, along with a dozen or so families. They were there to hunt the enormous shoveller deer whose herds migrated to find food in the warmer months. Where the deer went, humans followed. And that summer, Sokka was one of them. 

He didn’t want to leave home, but that was what the adults had decided. It seemed a strange and mysterious decision to Sokka, but at ten, most things seemed strange and mysterious to him. Especially Sokka’s own dad. Sokka would have protested, but in the end he loved his dad too much to say anything that could make him sad. There was enough sadness going around already that summer.So when Bato came to take him away to join Gran-Gran and  the rest of the people in the Old Village, Sokka went quietly, like the good son he wanted to be.

They called it the Old Village, but in truth the Old Village wasn’t old or a village at all. The people of the Old Village didn’t stay in one place but moved around with the seasons. In winter they built houses out of snow and ice. In spring they traveled on long sleds made of wood boards that were lashed together, and when the temperature warmed they got off their sleds and moved into sod houses instead, or pitched skin-tents to follow animals for hunting. 

Once upon a time they would have built or sewed everything by hand or with waterbending. For instance, waterbenders would make the runners for their sleds out of ice, but if there were no waterbenders that generation, people put frozen moss or even frozen fish on the bottom instead, to make sure the sleds skimmed lightly over the terrain nonetheless. This was how it used to be done, but since then even people of the Old Village accepted a few modern conveniences, like sugar and steel Earth Kingdom knives and warm underclothes spun out of air bison wool, which kept out the cold antarctic air like nothing else.

They were great adapters, Sokka’s people. Clever and resourceful, they were hunters and dreamers and storytellers. Like ice, they knew how to move and reform with the seasons. 

They called themselves the Southern Water Tribe, not because some among them had the power to bend water, but because they thought of themselves as water. They understood and respected the great flexibility of the world.

Part of that flexibility meant that, a century or more ago, when some of them started building a great city out of snow and ice closer to the Pole, some of their friends and clansmen adapted. They moved within its great walls and started new lives there, trading and studying and putting their cleverness and resourcefulness to use inventing new contraptions and new ideas – new animals as well. Some of their friends and family did not do this, and they chose to live the way their people had always lived, adapting themselves to only the great machinery of nature. What was good for their ancestors was good enough for them. They shunned a city life for something bigger and wilder and free. 

Neither side lived a better life than the other. They were just different, that’s all. 

Sokka’s grandmother liked her life outside the cities; her son-in-law – Sokka’s dad – was content inside one. He was a very important man, and he was responsible for a lot of people, so he and his wife brought up their children inside the capital, where he was busy trying to carve out a future for all of his people. He was very concerned about their future, and because all things were connected that meant he was also concerned about his past. He often sent his children to visit his mother-in-law. He wanted them to sleep in sod houses and learn to cut deer hides and listen to old stories, so they wouldn’t forget the old ways. Where they came from. 

When Sokka becomes a young man, the past will become an interesting topic for him too.  But the summer that he was ten, he wasn’t thinking about any of this. He was too busy doing two things: the first was avoiding the other boys, and the second was watching the otter-penguins.

There was a colony of them a mile away from the hunting camp. They were all the company Sokka required that summer.

A mile’s walk there and a mile back wasn’t much distance for a ten-year-old boy with a lot of energy, and a few weeks after he and Bato arrived there, Sokka began sneaking away every morning to visit the rocky beach where the rookery gathered. No one accompanied him, and he found that he liked it that away. The otter-penguins were amazingly social creatures with one another, and they accepted their strange featherless visitor with a cool indifference. Sokka had arrived just before their eggs were ready to hatch, and the penguins were more concerned about diving for food than about him. 

So he spent those weeks observing them, sometimes mimicking their waddling walk for his own amusement, sometimes working on projects that he designed for himself. He built a little roofless house right by the rookery, and he built it by piling up driftwood and pebbles he found on the beach. Some days he sat there for hours, just watching the flock. He learned a lot about them very quickly. For instance, the male otter-penguins had excellent balance. Even an injured male could hold a round egg against his stomach, gracefully tumble over small precipices and trip across rocky slopes – and never drop it. And after the eggs hatched, the female otter-penguins took care of the pups in the water and held them close by wrapping them with strands of seaweed. And they each had their own names, just like humans did. The mothers and father made distinct noises to call their own pups back to them when it was time for feeding.

They did all of this, and Sokka watched. He listened. He observed.

At ten, Sokka should be doing chores around the camp: fetching and carrying, sharpening knives and harpoons, scraping the hair off hides, helping to repair and maintain the skin-canoes – that sort of thing. But he was no good at doing any of that. He was ten and going through that unfortunate phase where none of his limbs were the right length, and everything he did that summer he seemed to do wrong. He kept dropping knives and ripping up fishing nets by accident. The worse part was that the other boys didn’t even laugh at him; they gave him looks of pity instead.

Before long, he gave up on the chores and the camp altogether. He avoided the other boys, and after a while they avoided him right back, which suited Sokka fine. He’d found something more interesting to think about anyways. 

That summer he was ten was a time of sunlight, rocks, penguin calls, and the rushing tides. It was the first and last time he ever applied himself to anything with such purity of purpose. He was acquiring knowledge the same way that the otter-penguins dived for fish or hatched their eggs: instinctively, without questioning why.

The little otter-penguins were cute, with their soft fuzzy heads and their wobbling walk. Sokka liked them, and though he winced when some of them were eaten by the leopard seals who prowled the dark, frigid sea, he never interfered. The fish were food to the otter-penguins, just as they were food to the seals, just as the seals might one day be food for Sokka himself. His father called it the miraculous interchange that made the universe work, and Sokka believed him. But still, he felt sad. The poor parents that had worked so hard through the winter were left with nothing to show for it. It seemed unfair..

It was sad, but Sokka could bear it. He did bear it, until one day, when Sokka himself was busy repairing one wall of his driftwood house – the colony started yipping and fussing like nothing he’d ever heard before. 

Sokka ran to see what was the matter, expecting a seal or maybe even a particularly bold black whale. But when he got to the source of the commotion he nearly stumbled from the shock. 

One of the penguins was missing a face.

There were no smears of blood, no telltale signs of shredded feathers. This was no ordinary injury from a preying seal. Somehow, the dark eyes and the nubby beak was gone. There was nothing but a smooth patch of feather, like someone had wiped their sleeve across a patch of snow. It was a female penguin, and she was waddling sightlessly, trying to find its way back to its hungry pups.

Sokka looked around him wildly; the mother had left her two pups a bit farther up, on a great flat rock shelf. The pups whined, but the rest of the otter-penguins were calming down now,  returning to their placid business, diving and feeding and caring for their own young. He looked back at the faceless penguin, still waddling around in circles, unable to sense the hungry cries of her own children.  

What happened? Sokka had never seen anything like this before, but one thing was clear: the mother was ill, and she would not get better. He examined the pups: without a mother to teach them how to swim and feed, they would both die before the season was over. 

The world was very cruel to children without mothers.

“No!” Sokka screamed out loud. “No, no, no!”

All his grief and loneliness surged up at once from a small dark space inside his heart. All the sadness he’d been carrying exploded through him, and it was such an enormous feeling that, had Sokka been a waterbender, the tides next to him would have crested and crashed with powerful roars of foam.

But he wasn’t a bender, and something else that was stranger and wilder happened instead. The world shimmered; the air itself cracked down the middle, and everything that Sokka had been so calmly and so happily observing a moment ago became strange. 

Mist rolled by, even though it was a sunny day. Flying, glowing creatures zoomed around Sokka, and everything became brighter and richer in colour, even through the mist. Sokka stopped screaming, fascinated by the changes in the landscape. He wanted to chase one the flying creatures, but then something scuttled by him and left a chill running down his spine.

It was a massive being, many-legged like an insect, coal-black and plated with hard shells. It looked like a bug but it had the head of a human woman – a disconcertingly pretty one with sad grey eyes. 

“Hello there,” said the bug-thing in a rasp. Its face flickered, changed in rapid succession from the young woman to an old man to some sort of animal Sokka had never seen before.

Sokka stumbled backwards, fell, and cried out again when his palms scraped against the rocks. The thing changed its faces like a dancer putting on masks for a ceremony, except it when a dancer took off their mask at the end of the ceremony, the whale or seabird went away and the dancer became human again. 

Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t human.

It’s been a long time since I came this south, said the creature. But the Avatar has a powerful pull on all of us.

Sokka screamed. He tried to get up and he tried to run, but he couldn’t. One sharp pincer edged towards him. It came closer, closer–

And then a distant mountain peak, one that Sokka had seen a million times before, leaned down. It crossed the hundreds of miles between them like it was a single step, and the mountain bent its great heft over the creature, all its crag and weight bearing down with unbearable pressure, and then the mountain too spoke:

Not yet, Koh. We still need him. 

The creature hissed, about to object, but then the ocean, all salt and tumbling motion, also rose up and added its presence to the mountain’s. 

Leave him, said the ocean, and this command was echoed by the unseen moon and the distant aurora and the ancient rock under their feet.

“First it was the moon girl, now it’s this boy,” Koh said. “Mark my words: we’re intervening too much in human affairs, and you all know it.”

Koh gave one last look at Sokka, and then disappeared, scuttling back into the mists. Sokka was too terrified to speak, too terrified to move. All the spirits were focusing their attention on him now. He knew this instinctively,  the same way that he knew up from down, light from dark, the smell of burning deer fat from seal. 

The mountain shifted; the enormous and distant rock became a heavy weight hovering over Sokka's chest. It prodded him there, like a finger.

Hello, Sokka, said the mountain, and the greeting was echoed a hundred times. A million.

Hello Sokka. Hello. Hello. Hello.

Sokka didn’t remember running the distance back to the camp, but he must have, because the next lucid thing he remembered was throwing his arms around Bato, not caring that he was leaving blood and dirt over Bato’s clothes. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Bato, his brows creased with concern. “Sokka, what happened?”

Sokka shook his head. He was born and raised a city kid; he would always be one at heart. He could not describe how terrifying it was to discover that, the whole time he was looking at the world, the world was looking back. 

“Bato, please,” he sobbed. “Please. I want my mother. Where is she? Where’s Mom?” 

Bato patted his head and held him close. “Oh, Sokka,” he said – and nothing else.

Sokka’s grandmother was nearby too, running over from some task with her grisly knife still in hand. She clucked her tongue; wiped the blade off with a brisk motion. “Tell the boy to stop wailing and get him inside somewhere, I’ll bring him something to eat. Something warm will snap him out of it.”

Sokka raised his head from where it was buried in the material of Bato’s sealskin parka; he shook it. He wanted to stop too, but his body had other ideas. Water was running down his face: a mix of tears and snot, blood from where he had bitten his own tongue. The taste of it all was frightful, all coppery and salty, slick from the mucus building up in the back of his throat, which was too wet and too dry all at once. 

“Dad?” It was someone else who came to see what was going on: Ayaliq, Bato’s own daughter. She trotted over and cuddled Sokka from his side, wrapping her little arms around him and Bato at the same time. “Don’t be upset,” she said. “It’s okay, Sokka.”

One of Bato’s hands cupped the back of Sokka’s head, a warm protective weight. “Leave him be,” he said to Sokka’s grandmother. “This is the first time he’s cried since the day itself. It’s only been three months.”

“You think I don’t remember how long ago my only child died?” 

Sokka let out another howl. His vision was swimming; the force of his gasps made him light-headed. Gran-Gran gave him a sharp tap on the back of his head. The sudden jolt of pain stunned him, but it also grounded him back in reality. 

“You shouldn’t have brought him here alone,” Gran-Gran said in the silence. “He needs his sister and his father with him.”

“What could I do, Kanna? The Northern Water Tribe is here making threats again; Hakoda wouldn’t leave the capital. Katara wouldn’t leave her father, not even for her brother. And I had to take him here, Kanna – at least out here Sokka’s taking an interest in something. You didn’t see him in those first few days. We could barely get him to get out of bed. He grieves hard for someone so young.”

Gran-Gran sighed. “I grieve for my daughter too,” she said. “Every day. Every minute. But death is a part of life. My grandson will learn this in time.”

Sokka wanted to say that he had already learned plenty, but instead he spat weakly on the ground and watched the string of drool stretch, then snap in mid-air. It was disgusting. He felt disgusting. He had also wet his pants, he realized, and he was so embarrassed to be like a little kid again in front of Ayaliq, that he shoved his face back into Bato’s parka. Ayaliq was a year younger than him, but she had probably never wetted her pants.

“Be kind to your cousin, Ayaliq,” Bato was saying. “And give him some time, Kanna. Let him cry for now. Just let him cry. He needs it.”

--------

Later, as a young man, when Sokka’s sister would breathlessly tell him about meeting the Avatar, the bridge between their world and the Spirit World, Sokka would scowl. He would turn away with his heart pounding.

“I prefer things that exist in the real world,” he would say, and it would come out much harsher than he’d meant it to. Katara would take it as a sign that he was judging her somehow, that he thought she was a silly girl for believing in the extraordinary. She would react badly to Sokka’s disapproval of the Avatar.

And Sokka did disapprove, though not for those reasons. He disapproved because he was afraid.

He wasn’t good at explaining it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the world of spirits was not necessarily friendly towards the human one. That his brief glimpse – hallucination? – of the Spirit World told him that it was brisk and insensate, that it was filled with impossible angles and geometric paradoxes. That its inhabitants were ancient and careless beings whose intelligence was beyond human, and obeyed rules set not by morality but by order and chaos. Those beings were sometimes benign, sometimes malicious, always incomprehensible. Sokka wasn’t sure he wanted to meet a person who bridged that world to theirs. 

He wasn’t like Katara, always with her eye fixed on some higher purpose. The everyday world with its speechless mountains and rolling seas, its everyday interchange of energies and motion: this was enough for him. Sokka didn’t need to meet Tui and La to appreciate the wonder of the tides and the moon. What spirits that existed in this world already were vast and incomprehensible enough. 

Sokka would prefer to keep the two worlds un-bridged.

He couldn’t explain this to Katara, and they would grow even further apart because of this. Piercing through to the Spirit World would be easier than crossing the chasm between them. It was as if Kya’s death had split some fundamental building block of the world as Sokka had known it: On one side, Sokka went with Bato; on the other, Katara stayed with their father. 

On one side, the radiance of discovery. On the other, the terror of what he might find. And then, much later, the horror of what Sokka’s discoveries would be used for.

By the Avatar.

[tempest-toss]

“Recap” into teaser

[[Ozzie here! Just writing this author’s note to say that I’m really glad that this is finally done! It took three months (mostly procrastination) but it’s here! And if you’re wondering, it’s being posted here on the Tempest blog first because it is considered lore for Tempest. Before we begin I would like to say a few things:

1) The writing style is weird because it’s written in a recap sort of way 2) The writing style seems to switch partway through as it does start to lead into a teaser-sort of style near the end. Apologies for the weird switch, but it would’ve been harder to write if I had to stick to one style for this. 3) There are Content/trigger warnings including: mentions of blood/gore, death, mentions of suicide. If there’s more, please let me know so I can properly tag it.  --Ozzie]]

Sapphire woke up in a chamber. It was outfitted with a sink, a mirror, a bunk bed, and a metal door locked, needing a keycard. After getting herself familiar with her new surroundings, the room started to flood from a sudden pipe burst. With quick thinking, she looked around the room and managed to procure the keycard for her door. She quickly exited and shut the door. As she began to look around the new hallway she was in, seven more doors near her opened, and out walked people she recognized immediately: Bandage, Rewind, Neon, Sprockets, Goggles, Clack, and Pixel, code-named agents that worked alongside her for the MTF unit Omicron-5. The quick breather of reassurance that they got from meeting each other soon ended as Goggles pointed out that water was quickly filling the hall behind them. That was all they needed to bolt forward.

 They quickly found stairs and ran up them until there were no more stairs to use. A quick look revealed that they were at a level that opened up into a wide floor. Just as they were reaching the end of the stairs, they heard a commotion from up above. A quick look-up confirmed that there was a secondary set of stairs not attached to the ones they were on. Down from the secondary stairs arrived seven more people. It didn’t take long for it to be obvious that they were from GOIs.

The first ones to introduce themselves were an Alexylva student by the name of Gardenia Meadowood, and a Serpent’s Hand scholar by the name of Morty Aeron. Specializers in botany and embalming, these two were the first to introduce themselves to Sapphire and the others and were the only ones to not have any real immediate identifiers (Morty did have a snake tattoo that reached to his hand, but it was mostly obscured by his sleeves.)

The remaining five were easy to associate with a GOI considering they had their logos and/or markings on open display. Two of them, Iouli Thomaie and Vassilis Admetos, were Sarkites, easily identifiable thanks to their tattoos. Two other young men were members of the GOC, according to the picture they wore along with their ID badges, which identified them as Benny Smith and Jason Snike. The remaining three were a father, mother, and daughter trio all bearing the Insurgency’s logo on their matching hoodies; they identified as Blake, Cheryl, and Tina. Shortly after introductions were made, a part of the wall collapsed, revealing a young man who would identify as Jeremy Fairfield, a secretary for Dr. Wondertainment. 

After all, introductions were given (again), a voice was heard through speakers in the room. The voice identified themselves as “The Gamemaster'' and said that the eighteen of them were going to participate in a game of life and death. They were instructed to go through special numbered doors via numbered bracelets that they wore (something they didn’t realize they were even wearing), and that they could escape if they left through a door marked with a nine. They could only enter a numbered door if the digital root input equaled the door’s number; furthermore, the minimum number of people required to open a door was six, and the maximum was ten. When opened, the door would remain open for nine seconds, before closing on its own. Once the inputees entered through their door, they would have 81 seconds to find the deactivation panel. If they find it, they have to input their numbers and the countdown would end. If they didn’t find the panel, didn’t all input themselves, or if at least one person stayed behind outside of the numbered door, then those that were beyond the door would explode from bombs placed in their stomachs. The Gamemaster dropped two last bits of important info. Firstly, this game is timed. All players have nine hours to escape. Second, the transmitters that connect to their bombs are in their bracelets. The only way to get your bracelet off is to either escape or if your heart ceases beating. He then wished everyone good luck before the speakers signaled that they had been disconnected.

The eighteen began to talk amongst themselves. “What is going on?” “Why was I selected for this nightmarish game?” “We have BOMBS in our guts!?” Sapphire gave a sharp whistle, immediately quieting everyone. With the chatter quieted, and a deep breath taken, the conversation resumed, but now with a more logical focus. The first thing the group did was test to see if what The Gamemaster said was true. They tried to open one of the two numbered doors present to them with three, four, and five people, but found them unable to open. They tried one last time with six people, and the door was able to open. That’s when the first incident occurred.

Jason fell in after the door had been opened for seven seconds. He fell so quickly that no one was able to grab him as the doors shut. A methodic beeping was heard. Jason began to panic from the inside. He then told everyone to tell his siblings that he loved them before a sound of an explosion was heard. Shakingly, six of them opened up the door to reveal blood, tissue, and the clothes and bracelet of Jason. Nobody moved as the doors slowly shut themselves after nine seconds. His death meant that everything that The Gamemaster said was truthful.

After the reality had settled in, the overall motivation to continue had lowered. However, they knew that they couldn't stand around and do nothing because of the time limit The Gamemaster had put on them. They took a moment and figured who could go through which of the two doors and split up and entered them. 

After clearing the puzzles they had encountered in the rooms, (and after one group nearly exploded from being unable to find the deactivation panel early on), the groups met up again in an area reminiscent of a hospital room, except it was full of empty cots and had three numbered doors. A quick examination showed that the main power for the scanners had been removed, thus preventing them from going any further. Everyone agreed to split up and search for them, the only exceptions being Rewind, Gardenia, and Tina, who decided to assist Tina in finding a restroom. About an hour later, Goggles ran up to Sapphire to tell her that someone had restored the panels. Sapphire knew something was wrong when she noticed that Goggles was not smiling. As soon as she was about to ask why a scream was heard from the hospital room. Sapphire ran with Goggles back to see why a scream was heard.

In the middle of the room was Blake and Cheryl laying in their own blood. These two insurgents, father, and mother to Tina, now lay dead in front of the numbered doors. Suspicion was immediate amongst the now fifteen remaining “players''. After all, everybody had split up, so all alibis except for Gardenia, Rewind, and Tina were hard to trust. But it seemed that a culprit was found quickly, as Neon pointed out that Iouli had been obscuring her hand behind her back. A quick pull from Morty revealed that Iouli’s hand was stained with something red, which caused an argument as Vassilis defended Iouli, claiming that she was innocent. His words were swiftly eaten as Iouli pulled a blade from her pockets and lunged at Tina, only to be grabbed and suplexed by Vassilis himself, causing Iouli to be knocked out. Some rope was grabbed from a nearby room and used to tie her up; after affirming that she would stay put, the fourteen split up their groups and entered through the two rightmost doors. Fortunately, the puzzles this time around were a bit more straightforward. They soon exited back into the hospital room with relatively high spirits, despite the loop they realized they had made. 

Iouli was gone. They found her body lying in the hallway, stomach down. A quick test with Bandage and an examination by Morty confirmed the truth: Iouli Thomaie had no heartbeat, and she was killed by a sharp attack to her gut. Instead of suspicion, confusion spread amongst the fourteen; the only question that was floating in their heads was, “How could she be killed if we were all together?” It was a tricky conundrum indeed, as everyone except Iouli entered the two numbered rooms, and everyone was by someone the whole time, so there would be no possible way that someone could have left, murdered Iouli, and returned. Sprocket’s voice piped up, amplified by the silence.

“Well, what if she took her own life?” Everyone turned their heads toward him. How could he say something like that, and what prompted him to say that? 

“Sprocket may have a point,” Neon spoke. “We went through different numbered doors and we think we have each found half of a special document. We were discussing as we were leaving the hospital room a few moments ago.” Everyone gave their full attention to the duo as they began to speak. 

“Through my door, I found a document describing a neurotoxin called Korem-23,” Sprockets began. “It was discovered by Dr. Andrea Korem, and evidently, it’s very hard to create. It must be kept in temperatures at around 30- -10 degrees, otherwise, it’ll evaporate or solidify. It is also a very tricky toxin, as the resources required to make it are hard to acquire, and it can only be administered as a liquid.”

“Through my door, I found the other half that explained what it does,” Neon continued. “It would seem this neurotoxin is unique in the fact that unlike other neurotoxins, it is not fatal, however, it does interfere with certain aspects of a creature’s psyche. Mainly that it causes the victim to experience heightened aggression, stress, and desperation, which eventually leads to them becoming desperate to… y’know” she said, knowing that she needed not to expand further on the topic. Sapphire couldn’t help but look at Iouli’s body. Could that be true? Could Iouli have been injected with Korem-23? But if that is true, then wouldn’t the one behind all this, AKA The Gamemaster, have infected more of them? Sapphire wasn’t the only one that had this idea, as others were slowly coming to the same conclusion. The clock in the main staircase brought them out of their thoughts as the chimes were heard. They had a few hours remaining.

Panic began to slowly creep into the remaining “players”. Could they actually escape from where they were? After all, every single room that they had been in so far has made it seem like the location everyone was at was a ship of some kind in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. If they escaped, would there be a boat for them to use? Doubt was beginning to dampen their spirits, so to stay positive, Neon, Sprockets, and Benny decided to explore any remaining areas to see if they could find the number nine door since most of the ship was available to them.

About half an hour passed before a loud yell was heard. Without any hesitation, everyone ran down towards the general area where they heard, and the sounds of a pair of doors opening alerted them to what room to enter. The room they entered was designed in a way that resembled a celebration room, but nobody paid any attention to that, but instead the corpse of Sprockets. The mournful cry of Pixel echoed throughout the room. Tuning out his cry, Morty checked Sprockets’ hands, discovering a scrap of paper written with his blood. He showed it to Gardenia, and the two approached the door, drawing almost everyone’s attention. It was then they realized a possible motive for murder: The number 9 door. They saw Gardenia and Morty pull apart the panel and fiddle with wires, and an unlocking sound resonated through the room; using Sprockets’ final words, they were able to bypass the door without leaving anyone behind. With a promise to avenge him, Pixel was able to leave Sprockets’ body and join the group as they opened the door, and found the exploded remains of Neon. The sight alone prompted Tina to burst into tears, while a feeling of anger filled most of the others as the main culprit was now blatantly clear: Benny. With a few calming words, everyone continued beyond the door, eager to make sure that Benny could not escape.

Fueled on adrenaline, the remaining participants rushed forward, eventually reaching an open area with stairs and the murderous GOC member. A standoff was initiated, as Benny pulled out a gun, and threatened to shoot whoever moved forward. Then, presuming that all intel would die with them, began to monologue. He began a spiel admitting that he orchestrated almost every death and that he was part of a rogue cell of the GOC known as the Platinum Fangs, who were the puppet masters behind the Isolation Experiment. It was this experiment that caused them to separate from the GOC, as they didn’t approve of the human experimentation. As he continued, Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out Dr. Wondertainment's Stretchy Stretch Stretch String™ and with a quick whip smacked the gun out of Benny's hand and another attack brought him down. He was quickly restrained and was knocked out with a kick, for extra precaution. With that, everyone stopped and let out some deep breaths: They were finally going to end this experiment once and for all. With the mastermind tied up and with them, they bid a farewell to the building and their fallen comrades and then ran up the stairs. Soon the end was in sight and they burst through the door, expecting the sea breeze, only to walk out and see the barren frost land that was the wilderness of Russia. The ship was never real, but instead, all participants were in a facility built underground, most likely to withstand a nuclear event. A van, most likely having been used to transport everybody here was nearby. Using their skills, Goggles was able to hotwire it and Rewind was able to call in to Site-781, which was nearby, and let them know of their arrival. They then piled in and drove, all of them a mix of happiness and shock that they had survived the whole ordeal.

At Site-781, everyone was checked for injuries and the members of the GOIs were interrogated with the assumption that they had something to do with the earlier events. In the end, Morty, Jeremy, and Gardenia were allowed to leave, while Vassilis took Tina and vanished before the Foundation could decide what could be done about them. An encrypted message received later seemed to point to the idea that Vassilis took Tina to the Insurgent cell that she grew up at. Benny Smith was the main focus of the Foundations’ time; he was eventually incarcerated.

Unfortunately, the stress of the experiment took a toll on Pixel, who ended up slipping into a coma, in which his memories of the event were locked away as he eventually woke up with no knowledge of anything having happened. In order to heal and so to not trigger any horrible memories for him, Goggles, Clack, Bandage, and Rewind decided to go on temporary leave from the Foundation for several years, with the ultimate choice at the end to figure out if they would be willing to return or get amnesticized. With no more of her members to work with, Agent Sapphire pulled the plug on Omicron-5, and the name was retired.

It’s been nine years since the first Isolation Experiment occurred, but that didn’t mean it was the last. For a few years afterward, several other experiments occurred; some were short, some were done by other people, and one was so intense that it gained notoriety in the public eye. For each of these experiments, Agent Sapphire made sure that she was involved in their investigations so that she may be able to help end them once and for all. Five years after the initial one, the eighth Isolation Experiment ended up revealing a flaw that exposed the Platinum Fangs, and they, along with any possible connections, were apprehended. After this, Agent Sapphire became content with the knowledge that nothing that heinous would ever happen again. So she was hit with a horrible pang of unease when she received an email from an O5 with the simple subject of: “It’s happening again”. The rest of the email explained that Agent Sapphire would be a willing participant and would have to risk her life to put an end to this once and for all. After thinking about it, she obliged.

Elsewhere, different people were ending their days and packing up. Some were double-checking their bags, some went to the back of their room to check out a noise they heard, and some were simply on a drive. But each of them are met with the same fate of a white gas that puts them to sleep. When they awake they’ll each have to participate in a game of life and death, where teamwork is key but deception is much more profitable. Hopefully, they can all make it out alive when they go through The Isolation Experiment.

[klea221]

Blood and Gold Part 1

*This is a fic of my own. I have not finished campaign 2 yet but I am being self indulgent and writing because I cannot get enough of Mollymauk. (I refuse to let him be dead!)*

The wind off the river was warm and calming, just like any other day in Marquet.

Merchants bartered and unloaded cargo. Children stopped to gawk at the foreign goods only to be quickly shooed away.

Life here was simple to the untrained eye but for those who knew better, “freedom” came at a cost.

Beginning to climb off the rocks and through the reeds, I realize that my hiding spot is in jeopardy. Stilling, I hope to remain unseen by the guards.

Casting “disguise self”, I make my way to the passenger ship. The price is a steep 300 gold but once I get to the menagerie coast, I can start my new life. Surely, its worth the cost. Hopefully, my sister Yara will keep up the illusion until I’m far enough away…

I limit my time outside the cabin to twice a day to keep up the disguise. The rest of the time I use to plan my next steps. Of course I had never really “worked” before but, I had extensive tutoring and training at the palace which could come in useful. Armed with my bow, a dagger, and my sword, I could become some sort of adventurer! It could be like the stories father used to tell us growing up about the great heroes of the past!

Shrugging it off, I remind myself not to get too carried away. Surely, it would be more reasonable to work in a tavern of some sort…

Suddenly, I am pushed out of my thoughts by my sister’s message,

“(Y/N)! Its me, Yara! I was unable to keep up the act! Father has sent a search party! Be safe”

~~

Even with closed eyes, I can still smell the blood. As quick as the rebellion came and left, the damage was already done. The streets of Ank’Harel were stained red. Noble houses were torn a part and everyone was on edge.

After a week of negotiation, things began to change. Hopefully things would go back to “normal”.

“We will form an alliance! There will be no more bloodshed in this city. We have a duty to the people, Ozai!” commanded the king.

“Yes, of course. There is however, a price for my… compliance” says General Ozai.

“Name it” answered the king, trying to remain prideful.

“Your daughter will marry Omar, He will become the Prince”.

“It will be done”.

I couldn’t breathe.

Omar was just as cruel as his father-if not worse. He was even rumoured to keep many slaves. Surely this man could not ever love let alone be a good husband. I felt sick. As I looked around the room, it spun and no body seemed to care.

~

“I will not hear anymore of this (y/n). My word is final! You will marry Omar! The wedding will be next month and that is that!” yelled the king.

My father almost never yelled, especially not to me. After the rebellion he seemed to be unhinged and there would be no use in arguing. My fate is settled; marry Omar or go far away-and never return…

“I understand” was all I could muster before storming off to my chambers. I grabbed all that I could and made my way to the docks.

~

My eyes shot open as I rose from the hard cot. The ship’s horn bellowed, vibrating the floor and walls of the cabin. Looking over to my window, I could see a huge lighthouse in the shape of the Wild Mother. This is it! This must be Nicodranas! Excited for what this new place has in store, I toss all of my things into my bag and leave the ship for the last time.

~~

I cannot help but feel captivated by the delicate blue hues around me. The air is a beautiful combination of warmth, sea salt, and the smell of cinnamon. Looking over to a bakery, I see freshly made pastries and decide I should indulge myself! Why not?

Before I am able to take my first bite, the heavy presence of guards makes me uneasy. Trying to be stealthy, I make my way into an alley and case “disguise self” for the first time today.

“Hey! I can do that too!” says a cheerful accented voice.

Looking over my shoulder, I see a blue tiefling magically transform into a blond human girl in peasant’s clothing.

“My name is Jester! I’ll keep your secret if you give me your donut!” she says happily eyeing my purchase.

Though she is quite forward, I feel comforted by the tiefling and decide that maybe I shouldn’t be alone anymore.

“Why don’t I just buy us some more then! Oh- and my name is y/n!” I tell her as we walk back to the bakery.

~

Jester can talk nonstop! Normally this would be a little much for me but, having travelled alone for so long, I welcome it. Jester quickly tells me all about the city, her mother, and all the tricks the so called “Traveler” has taught her. Sticking with my plan, I tell her that I am looking for work while in Nicodranas. She happily takes me to her Inn where her mother helps me secure a job. I work hard cleaning up after guests and fetching them any food or drink that they require in exchange for room and board. It is very hard work but, Jester keeps me company most days.

~~

One night as I’m folding tablecloths, I hear a commotion on the stairs. Its Lord Sharpe and he’s livid!

“IF I EVER SEE YOUR DAUGHTER AGAIN I WILL HAVE HER KILLED!”

Oh no! Jester what has she done now!

Trying to stay out of the argument, I look up to see Marion on the staircase with tears streaming down her normally poised face. This was really bad indeed…

~

Making my way up to Jester’s room, I can already hear Marion and Jester.

“But Mama! It was just a joke! Surely he can’t be serious!” whines Jester. She’s completely unaware of the gravity of her actions.

“Lord Sharpe is an extremely powerful man Jester, I don’t think we should take the risk! I think it would be best if you left the city for awhile. Maybe with time things will blow over” says Marion, pushing the hair out of Jester’s face.

Opening the door, I try to aid Marion in convincing Jester to play it safe.

“Jester, your mother is right-I-I’ve seen what men with power can do…” I say cryptically.

Not sensing that Jester is understanding, I take my chances and tell them both my REAL story. I tell them all bout my engagement and how awful the ramifications would have been had I stayed. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been killed one day to give Omar the throne…

“Jester, we can go together, we can keep each other safe from bad guys. I’m sure the Traveler will help us!” I say, trying to persuade her.

“Thank you for telling us this (y/n). You are a true friend. I know you will keep my little sapphire safe!” she says pulling me into a hug.

“It is settled then, we will leave at once!” Jester says.

“Here, this should help you two along” says Marion, placing a rather large coin purse into Jester’s hands. “Be very careful Jester, and try not to play too many tricks!” warns Marion.

~~

Jester had decided that we would search for her long-lost father (whom she had never even met). Not wanting to crush her hopes, I tag along on the mission.

In Port Damali, our “investigation” runs dead. Despite this, we manage to gain a member into our little group. Having noticed our cleric abilities, a half-orc sailor named Fjord offered to travel with us. He tells us that he wishes to enroll at the magic academy in the Dwendalian Empire.

As we lead the coast and travel towards this new Empire, the air become noticeably cooler. The ocean views become obscured by rocky mountain terrain, and I begin to feel anxious for the road ahead.

~

As we arrived at Trostenwald, there was a commotion by the lake. Curiously walking closer, we see a giant water snake and a tiny screaming girl curled in its grasp.

In a matter of seconds, a female monk leaps onto the scene in a flash of blue robes. She begins to pummel the beast with her staff. Seeing as she may need help with killing the snake, the three of us run to help.

Aiming by bow toward the beast, I surprisingly manage to hit it right behind the head. However, before I can get too excited, I realize the beast is far too large for one arrow alone to take it down. The snake angrily strikes at the monk who narrowly dodges the attack.

Fjord runs up to the beast and draws his sword while I prepare another arrow. This time, I aim for the eyes.

Now blinded and confused, the creature is unaware of Fjord’s presence. He quickly begins to cut through the beast’s tough skin, killing it.

As the snake falls to the ground, the crowd erupts with cheers.

Jester runs over to the little girl and quickly casts “cure wounds”. My heart finally slows down knowing that the girl is safe.

“YOU GUYS THAT WAS AWESOME!” yells Jester, waving her hands around.

“Ugh, yeah! That was pretty rad” says the monk. “My name’s Beau by the way”

“Oh! I’m Jester! And this is y/n and Fjord!” says Jester, happily.

“Nice to meet you” I say shyly.

“Are you guys travelling too?” asks Beau.

“Yes, we are making our way north to the Soltryce Academy” says Fjord.

“Ah- the Soltryce Academy you say… No offense but you guys are gonna need some serious coin for that” says the monk, knowingly.

“You don’t say… You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who is hiring, would you?” says the half-orc.

“Well I mean, I was going to do some work for the Baumbach Brewery before this snake thing happened… You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like” offers the monk.

“Hey! That sounds like it could be fun!” says Jester.

~

After living in a palace most of my life, I try not to complain too much about manual labour but this job was BRUTAL. The four of us have done nothing but haul boxes and crates for hours on end. My body was sore and sweaty despite the cool air of Trostenwald.

By the time we got to the Nestled Nook Inn, my body was on autopilot. Not bothering to eat, I head upstairs and crash onto the bed.

~

With an aching body, I finally pull myself out of bed and open the door. I am greeted with the comforting smell of fresh bread and breakfast meats. Sitting down with the rest of the group, I forget my table manners and devour the food placed in front of me.

Not long into breakfast, the little girl’s father from yesterday enters the Inn. Nervously, he makes his way to our table and thanks us graciously. Before leaving, he dumps a hatful of coin onto our table. The coin pile draws much attention so, I rush to divide the pile evenly.

As Jester begins to converse with the table next to us, quick introductions are made. Before I can dwell on the halfling’s odd appearance, two more strange figures make their way noisily through the Inn.

Quickly turning my head in annoyance to the commotion, my heart stops for a moment. Having lived in Marquet all my life, I was used to Tieflings as they were common to see around the city. This lavender one however, was a sight to behold. And Gods was I in trouble…

[freudensteins-monster]

I wish you would write a fic where Loki and Sigyn try to one-up each other pranking Thor, Valkyrie and the Avengers while on Earth. (Thanks, and Happy New Year! xoxo)

Dear Anon, I know you probably don’t remember sending me this ask, considering you sent it on New Years Day - two years ago - but better later than never, right? (Set post-Ragnarok, minus Thanos)

Loki’s return to Earth had notexactly been celebrated, but the Avengers needed him on an upcoming mission so hispresence was tolerated. Eventually they reached the end of their patience andso he was sent to annoy Doctor Strange at the New York Sanctum. He had to begrudgingly admit that theircollection of magical knowledge and artifacts was impressive, though it paledin comparison to Asgard’s. And didn’t he feel that loss keenly? He’d managed tosquirrel away almost a hundred of his most treasured volumes into his personalpocket dimension during his all to brief reign as king but there were hundreds of thousandsmore that had been lost to the fires of Ragnarok.

The Sanctum also held another mysterioustreasure.

“Sigyn? Is that name supposed tomean something to me?” Loki replied with disinterest, not bothering to raisehis eyes from his latest book.

“It should,” Strange smirked.“She’s your wife reincarnated.”

At that Loki deigned to raise hiseyes, flitting from the irritating Strange to the mortified initiate besidehim. She was fair of face and hair, the latter pulled back in elaborate braidsthat fell down to her shoulder blades, and she wore thick gloves on her hands inaddition to the standard burgundy garb of any initiate of Kamar-Taj.

“Is this a reference to yourlurid mythologies?” Loki drawled. “Because in truth I have never taken a wife.Though if you wish me to take her off your hands I would require a substantialdowry, say the Axe of Angarrumus? I received Thor’s name in Stark’s wintersolstice gift giving game and such a weapon would mean I don’t have to lowermyself to visiting one of Midgard’s marketplaces.”

Rather than reply Strange huffedwith irritation and flounced out of the room (the sorcerer may have justturned, the Cape of Levitation did all the flouncing). The woman gave him acurt bow before disappearing into the rows of shelving, and Loki would haveforgotten all about her the moment she was gone from his sight if Strangehadn’t screamed his name as he stormed back into the library less than a minutelater.

Loki laughed. He couldn’t helpit. The Sorcerer Supreme was standing in the middle of the room, his dark bluerobes now emerald green and his famed cloak a blinding gold, as his face turnedan interesting shade of red. It was the best thing he’d seen since the Hulk hadthrown Thor around like a ragdoll in the arena.

“What? It wasn’t me,” Loki arguedas Strange continued to glare at him after he’d been able to stop laughing.

With one flick of his wrists thesorcerer changed his robes back to their original hue and with another he cutthe legs off Loki’s chair, causing the Asgardian to fall on his ass with athud.

Loki was dusting himself off whenthe woman, Sigyn, reappeared, a heavy tome in her arms and a small smileplaying on her lips.

“It was nice to meet you,” she saidin lightly accented English before leaving the room via a portal she’dconjured.

Loki stared at the space she hadoccupied for a long minute before smiling to himself, “Interesting.”

In the days leading up to theMidgard winter solstice celebrations Loki thought of the curious Sigyn often,and though he frequented the Sanctum he had not seen her again, and dared notask Strange as to her whereabouts and give away his interest. In the end she came to him, arriving via a portal on the balcony of Stark’stower along with Strange and two other sorcerers, a hour late for Stark’sChristmas party.

Since they had last crossed pathsSigyn had apparently completed her training, having exchanged her initiaterobes for more formal ones of grey overlayed with a dark purple sleeveless coatwith silver embroidery. She still wore gloves the same shade as her robes, andtoyed nervously with the bindings. Stark was being his obnoxious self as heintroduced the sorcerers to the rest of the superheroes, scientists, andobligatory celebrities gathered on the 68th floor, and just as Lokiwas sure that Strange was about to push Stark through a portal to the farreaches of the universe, the Man of Iron was distracted by his AI systemintroducing the newest arrivals to step off the elevator – in Latin. Their hostsufficiently distracted, the sorcerers began to mingle (Strange making for oneJane Foster, the next smartest person in the room, much to Thor’s thinly veiledannoyance), and Loki made his way over to Sigyn.

“That was a nice trick.”

“I have no idea what you’retalking about,” she replied automatically as she took a glass of somethingbubbly from a passing waiter.

“Of course you don’t,” Lokismiled. “Just as I have no idea what’s going on over there,” he said, pointingto the bar where Valkyrie was trying drink after drink, growing more frustratedas each turned to water on her tongue.

Sigyn stifled a laugh beforegazing around the room in search of her next target. The slight twitching ofher fingers was the only indication that she had made her play and it was a fewminutes before Loki understood what it was. There was a small commotion acrossthe room and the man out of time stumbled away from a group of overly affectionatedebutantes, a sprig of mistletoe followed him. If he stayed in one place forlonger than five seconds the mistletoe hovered over his head and the peopleclosest to him felt compelled to kiss him. It resulted in the good captainrunning laps of the room as he cursed Stark for inventing some sort ofmistletoe drone.

As the party guests laughed Sigynraised an eyebrow in challenge but before Loki could contemplate his next movea loud slap rang out. All eyes turned to find Doctor Strange getting chewed outby Doctor Foster before the petite brunette stormed off.

Sigyn gasped. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me. Itseems as though the Sorcerer Supreme is fully capable of making an ass out ofhimself without my assistance.”

They watched as Thor made tofollow Doctor Foster and the moment he caught up with her Loki sliced the airwith his arm, sending the former lovers flying into a storage closet at the endof the hall. He immediately sealed the room – no one would be able to heartheir cries for aid and for all Thor’s strength he would not be able to breakout of the room before dawn’s first light hit the tower.

“Really?” Sigyn scoffed.

“They have been tiptoeing aroundeach other for weeks. It’s been painful to watch. One way or another it endstonight.”

“Fair enough,” she mused as hersharp gazed scanned the room. With a sly smile she ran a finger around the rimof her glass and half the room fell silent before findingthemselves singing a rather passionate rendition of “Santa Claus is Comin’ ToTown”.

Loki barely had a moment to enjoythe confusion before he felt a sharp pinch between his ribs.

“That’s enough,” the widowcommanded, pressing a blade so hard against his side it pierced through hisleather vestments.

Before Loki could proclaim hisinnocence Sigyn took a sip from her glass and the chaos fizzled out intoconfused laughter and the sounds of drinks being topped up. Loki breathed asigh of relief as the blade was removed from his side.

“If you can’t behave yourself itmight be better for your health if you retired for the evening,” the widowsuggested before rejoining her friends.

“Haha,” Sigyn chortled into herdrink. “You lose.”

“How so?”

“You got caught,” Sigyn repliedas though it were obvious.

“But it wasn’t my trick.”

“It still counts.”

“It does not!”

“It does too!”

In a fit of frustration, and inan effort to best his sparring partner, Loki threw a glamour over Sigyn,ridding her of her robes and dressing her in a glittering golden gown similarto those he had seen a few models in attendance wearing. The figure-hugginggown was quite alluring on her, as was the amount of exposed flesh, until onegot to her now glove-free hands which were misshapen with leathery scars. Sigyndropped her champagne glass with an anguished scream when she realised whatLoki had done, angry tears filling her eyes when she felt the room staring ather. She turned on her heel and summoned a portal with her sling ring,disappearing in a shower of sparks.

“What did you do?” Strange sighedirritably as he appeared at Loki’s side.

“I may have taken things a steptoo far,” Loki conceded.

“You don’t say.”

“Is there any way to follow her?”

With another put upon sigh,Strange summoned a portal for him.

“If my favourite student doesn’tcome back, neither should you,” Strange warned before shoving him through.

The portal closed and Loki foundhimself face first in the snow. He righted himself and in the grey light he wasable to follow Sigyn’s footprints towards a church and the cemetery behind it.He found her seated before a headstone once again dressed in her in grey andpurple robes. Her gloves were lying on the ground beside her and her misshapenhands sat in her lap. Loki approached cautiously and when she failed to attackhim he sat down next to her, joining Sigyn in staring silently at the headstoneof one Marta Magnusson.

“Most days I can forget aboutthem,” she said without preamble, turning her scarred hands this way and that. “But thensomeone will comment on my gloves and I remember it anew. If I don’t wear them I have to put up with looks of disgust or pity. I’m notsure which is worse.”

“…How did it happen?”

“When I was but a child my fatherthrew me into the fireplace during one of his drunken rages, pushed me down bythe heel of his boot, my little hands pushing back against the burning logs asflames licked my face. It felt like hours of agony but my mother assured me itwas only seconds, either way the damage was done. Recovery was almost aspainful, and whenever I cried about it my mother would wipe away my tears andsay, “Women are defined by what they can endure, little Sigyn, so it is in allthe great stories, and you are far too strong to give up now.”

She fell silent then, content toignore her companion in favour of losing herself to long buried memories. Itstretched on long enough to make Loki fidget, a dozen empty platitude dying onhis silver tongue.

“I’m not showing you mine,” hemuttered, just loud enough to draw Sigyn’s attention.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not showing you my scars soyou’ll think us even,” he bit out petulantly. “Just know that I have them. Also,”he added with a belligerent sigh, “I’m sorry for bringing yours to light the wayI did. It was cruel.”

She accepted his apology with abrief nod but made no move to bury her past once more and leave the frozen cemetery. Loki sighed again, cursing his newfound sentimentality, and outstretcheda hand towards the headstone. Within minutes an ice sculpture formed behind itin the shape of a mother embracing her child. The child may have resembled Sigynbut, Loki realised too late, the mother was most definitely Frigga.

Sigyn’s eyes lit up inappreciation but as she turned to Loki her smiled faded. Loki followed her gazeto his outstretched hand, now azure blue. Chastened, he gave it frustratedshake as though his true heritage was something he could easily rid himself of.He crossed his arms to hide it from view until it returned to his prefershade and avoided meeting her eyes.

“Can you only manipulate ice?”she asked, surprising Loki.

“What?”

“Is it only ice you can create?”she repeated, smiling as her eyes drifted skyward to the flurries of snowflakesthat drifted past on the wind.

Loki, sensing mischief, smiledback. “What did you have in mind?”

The karaoke portion of Stark’s Christmasparty was due to begin, but as the host took the stage a blizzard developed outof thin air, pouring in from the balcony and blanketing the room with snow.Panicked and freezing guests sought to escape it but where met with icy gales thatpushed them back from the elevators and stairwells.

It disappeared as quickly as it came but left the entire floor covered in two feet of snow. Stark was thefirst to regain his senses, but before he could call for Loki’s head his ownwas struck with an icy projectile. He turned on the spot to find the SorcererSupreme smirking back at him, his cocky cloak dusting snow off whatever its equivalentto hands were.

“Oh, it’s on now, Strange.”

Loki hoisted himself up onto thebar and helped himself to an abandoned glass of champagne, laughing at thechaos before him as dozens of enhanced individuals engaged in an all-outsnowball war. Sigyn joined him moments later after quickly forming a portal withher sling ring to divert a wayward snowball down the back of Wong’s robes.

Loki beamed at his partner inmischief and pushed a drink into her gloved hand. “To what doesn’t kill us,” hetoasted.

Sigyn laughed and clinked herglass against his. “May it always make us a riot at parties.”

[taylor-on-fire]

Cigarettes and Alcohol (INTRO)

She was told to never get involved with three things; Cigarettes, Alcohol and Rock Stars.

Obviously, something fate never intended for her to live by.

Pairing: ? x Reader

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter Rating: Teen

Chapter Warnings: Swearing.

~/-*•|•*-\~

To say that England was cold was an understatement. 'Cold' is used when describing a slightly uncomfortable drop in temperature that requires you to swap out your trusty leather jacket for a thicker, fluffier parka. Or maybe sporting a matching plaid hat and scarf set, paired with the jeans that had morphed from the skirts worn in summer. The 'Cold' could cause a slight inconvenience - maybe leading to you wearing a thicker pair of tights, or putting another log on the fireplace. But, whatever England was, it definitely wasn't cold.

The chill that accompanied the dark nights was bitter. It was the sort of chill that pierced through all of the supposed 'weather-resistant' layers you donned, straight down to your bones, freezing you from the inside out. Definitely not pleasant, and far from comfortable.

I deeply regretted not listening to my mothers orders of wearing attire more suitable for the sub-zero temperatures before I came here. Or maybe her advice to not go out in this weather at all. However, I was adamant on sporting the platform boots and bell sleeved minidress, that had been sat in the back of my wardrobe for god knows how long, to the bar. Making an impression felt like a necessity to me now, and this required a lot of bold moves on my part.

I quickly walked in the direction of the student bar that had been recommended to me earlier in the week. It was only a ten minute walk from my flat, and at the time, walking had sounded good - now, I begged to differ. My fingers were tightly clasped around my bag in a bid to prevent myself from shivering in the icy wind, causing me to speed up my steps and cut down the travel time to my destination.

Obviously, I wouldn't let the cold put a dampener on my plans, though. The night was still young, and with limited opportunities of discovering and scoping out my favourite areas in the city, I obviously had to take them. I wasn't going to be young forever, and the December temperatures that were expected from London would soon be forgotten.

Grasping the cardboard box from inside my clutch, I pulled out a stick alongside the lighter, and shoved it between my lips before setting it alight. This would hopefully provide some warmth, despite it being a gross habit.

I exhaled the smoke slowly, a combination of condensation and cigarette smoke appearing in the air before me. After a few more drags, I reached the front of the bar, which was covered in a compilation of flashing, light-up signs and posters. It didn't appear to be at all like any of the bars we had at home, all the more reeling me in.

* * *

Being sat at the bar, I ordered my first drink, and turned around to view the room in more detail. It was ill-lit with few deep red lights illuminating the booths and dance floor, giving the bar a more intimate and calm aura. With the mass of people positioned in various places, obviously awaiting the promised entertainment to kick-start their night, I sipped at the glass that had just been passed to me and indulged myself in the atmosphere.

I had heard few detrimental comments on the band, them mainly regarding the outlandish character of one of the members, which obviously shouldn't be an issue if their music was decent. Music was a necessity to life, and scoping out new songs and artists with potential was like a hobby.

A slight commotion began near the entrance of the bar, as I noticed a flurry of fur coats, leather pants and glitter within a huddle of girls. Quite peculiar for a music bar on a week night, but much more satisfying than the basic formula of corduroy trousers and floral shirts.

I continued to sip from my glass, softly tapping the platform of my boot onto the stool to the beat of the song that was playing. Awaiting some live music, pretty patiently. I would definitely not be in a rush to go back home tonight.

The groups around the bar that I was seated at began thinning as they swarmed towards the stage. Presumably, the arranged band would start their slot. An hour late, albeit, but with the buildup that came before them, a wait which was worth it.

The rhythmic tapping of a tambourine interrupted the light chatter of the bar, emitting a few squeals from girls towards the front of the stage. I quickly turned to face the stage, and saw four, tall men stroll out.

The guy slamming the tambourine against his hip strutted to the middle of the stage, swaying his bell-sleeved arms with every movement. He obviously had the biggest stage presence, flouncing up and down the stage and pissing about with the other members, flicking his hair and grinning all the while.

A guitar and bass accompanied the tambourine, either side of the prancing man. One of them tall, with a mess of curls atop his head, a concentrated look playing over his features and the other a smaller man, with a grin that split his face into two, and the coordination of a professional shown in his dancing.

These men already looked significantly different to most of the bands I had seen before. Their decision to wear such staples as glitter, and leather, and fur, would be viewed as massively outrageous by many. But, It evidently made them more intriguing, and gave them a character that set them apart from any potential competition.

"Everybody, this is called keep yourself alive." The long haired man, whom I presumed to be the frontman grinned.

A deep thumping erupted from the drum kit situated in the centre of the stage. A long, blonde haired guy dressed in all black began to crash his drumsticks against his drums, and in doing so earning shrieks from a few of the females in the crowd. Considering their reactions to the other members, the drummer could come out as the womaniser of the four?

I took the last sip from my glass, before ordering another from the bartender, and turning back to the band in awe. The hold they had on myself and the crowd was captivating, considering it was a university aimed bar and students tend not to be so invested in the live acts.

"I was told a million times of all the troubles in my way." The front man sung into the microphone, which was still attached to the stand, skipping around the stage.

I placed the drink that the bartender has just passed me to my lips and smirked.

~/-*•|•*-\~

[ymnfilter]

Let Me Take You In My Arms (You Can Cry Cry) [Klaine AU]

On ao3

Pt.2 Of Expensive Klaine

Summary: 

Glee Alternate Universe in which Elizabeth and Burt separated instead of Kurt's mother dying. Elizabeth's side of the family is crazy rich and she got Kurt's custody so he's also been raised in Luxury. Kurt is enrolled at Dalton when he reaches high school, where he meets and falls in love with Blaine Anderson whose family is equally rich and influential. This is going to be an entire series of Klaine just being expensive, but for now:

Burt Hummel and Elizabeth Alarie get a divorce, Nanna Alarie takes baby Kurt with her to France. Andersons find out their son is gay. Kurt and Blaine meet in middle school at Westerville and start to become each other's everything.

When Cooper Anderson was born to Devon and Pamela Anderson, they were ecstatic. Finally, they had an heir. Someone who would take over after Devon and become the next CEO and face of ANDRSN Publications, a fashion and lifestyle magazine that had been started by Devon’s great grandmother and was now one of America’s biggest names. Devon himself knew little about fashion, nor did he have any interest in learning about it. No, unlike Vogue or Elle or other magazines in the industry, ANDRSN didn’t have a fashion line of their own, instead giving big names in the industry like Marc Jacobs or Valentino or Alarie a chance to show off their collections in their magazines.

Cooper was difficult though. He preferred sneaking out to the dollar theater over finishing his school homework, he preferred dating and sleeping around with girls over after school clubs, he preferred fast cars and black cards over responsibility and common sense. By the time he was eighteen, neither Devon or his wife were surprised to find him gone one day after graduation, with only a single note that said,

I wanna act. Say bye to Blainers for me, will ya?

They weren’t surprised, really. Didn’t mean they were any less disappointed.

And so, Devon’s attention shifted from his first son to his second. Blaine was a jumpy, hyper eight year old kid when Devon decided he was going to be the next CEO of  ANDRSN, and for a few years, Devon had no doubt Blaine would be the perfect heir. He was a straight A student, he played football after school, he wore bow ties and suspenders and behaved appropriately and charmingly amongst guests of all circles. Blaine was the perfect son anybody could ever ask for, and he seemed perfectly happy to fill the role. Ticking all of his father’s requirement boxes with effortless smiles and a skip in his step.

Then Blaine turned eleven.

“I’m gay, dad.”

Devon remembered feeling like his entire world had stopped. They had been having their regular family dinners and Devon froze mid bite, his fork hovering somewhere in the middle of his plate and his open mouth. Next to him Pamela jerked, but she didn’t look very surprised, and Devon figured he was the last one to know about this.

Devon sighed, placed his fork back on his plate,

“You’re sure?” He asked his son, knowing it was futile anyway. No way Blaine would risk telling them something of this magnitude unless he was completely certain. Blaine jerked a nod, keeping his gaze on his own plate, tiny fists clenched on his sides.

“Okay.” Devon said, and nodded. Being gay… it may not have been in his list of requirements needed for the perfect son, but he supposed it couldn’t do much harm either. Blaine’s eyes snapped to his,

“Okay?” He croaked, Devon nodded,

“Well, I’m not exactly happy about it, but, it’s not like you can do anything to change it. So, I will learn to accept it.”

Devon knew he wasn’t the warmest of parents, but from the tears of relief that welled up in Blaine’s eyes, at least he knew what he had said was partially comforting,

“This doesn’t mean that you’re excused to date anybody you want to though, do you understand?”

Blaine blinked at him, “What?”

“I don’t care if it’s a girl or a guy, Blaine, but make sure that whoever you bring home is worthy of being a part of this family.”

Nobody said anything for a while, the tension around them didn’t break until Blaine nodded, giving them a small smile, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Blaine may not be a perfect son, but Devon figured he was as close to perfection as he could ask for.

Kurt Hummel’s parents start fighting when he’s five. The garage Burt opened just a couple of years ago isn’t doing very well and he’s almost always at work, leaving behind his wife to cook, clean, take care of Kurt and work at her mother’s company from home. It’s not fun, and Elizabeth’s exhausted, and Burt doesn’t understand because in his mind, if you’re not really going out to work, are you really working? Which leads to more fights and more lonely nights and Kurt finds himself hiding under his bed cuddling his Nanna’s soft cashmere sweater almost every night.

Elizabeth has never really been comfortable living as a housewife to a middle class man, but that man being Burt has always been enough reason to be happy. She loves her husband. Has loved him ever since he saw her in highschool cheering for the rival football team while he played quarterback and promptly asked her out on a date afterwards. Her mother did not approve, of course she didn’t, and Elizabeth found herself eloping with the man of her dreams right after highschool. They had been happy in the beginning. So happy. They had a lovely child, and Burt was working at the garage of one of his friend’s fathers and she was doing her best to not get bored out of her mind staying at home all day. But then Burt had wanted to open his own place, and Kurt had turned three and demanded a tutu and dance classes and everything had slowly unraveled.

Burt had started taking on mortgages even when Elizabeth offered to help him out, he and Kurt had started becoming more and more awkward with each other, both giving each other looks of confusion and hurt rather than the love and affection they had before. Elizabeth knew that if Burt just spent some alone time with Kurt he would be able to figure his own son out, but again, Burt hardly had any time for his family anymore, so the father and son remained practically strangers and Christmases and birthdays were filled with grossed out faces at unused boy-gifts and hurtful thank yous.

Looking back, Elizabeth honestly doesn’t know how she survived those years, but it was when Kurt was seven, and her mother had showed up for a surprise visit for her only grandson’s birthday, that everything finally came to a head. Burt hadn’t gotten home until an hour after Kurt’s bed time that evening, and after asking her mother to please tuck him in, Elizabeth was waiting for her husband on the living room sofa, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Elizabeth has become fairly good at masking her emotions when faced with her husband’s late nights, but none of their problems should affect Kurt’s birthday, she firmly believes that. But Burt hadn’t been there. And she doesn’t know what hurts more, his absence or that fact that Kurt had looked so much more comfortable and happy with just his mom and grandma to celebrate.

When Burt staggers into the house, he’s exhausted. He’s trying to get his garage to a more stable ground, while also trying to earn enough money with part time jobs at the dock to help with the mortgage, not that Lizzy needs to know that bit. She’ll just try to make him talk to her mother, and god knows Burt has had enough of that snobbish Madame Alarie to last him a lifetime. When he does get home though, he knows something’s wrong. The house is quiet. No sounds coming from the TV or the radio (and Burt’s house is never quiet. Not with the love his wife and son share for show tunes) he can’t hear Kurt’s high pitch giggles coming from the kitchen as he tries to help his mother bake cookies. One look at his watch tells him he’s late. Another at the calendar tells him he’s very late on the absolute worst day. He sighs, he knows he’s in for it now. Their screaming matches are sort of legendary in the neighborhood, and as embarrassed as he is about the commotion, Burt figures he’s too tired to care about it at this point.

The verbal back and forth that follows is legendary, but it doesn’t last very long. Just as Elizabeth starts crying, there are suddenly footsteps stomping downstairs, and Burt looks up to see Nanna Alarie rushing downstairs, his glare fierce and directed straight at him. He loses all the fight inside of him when he sees Kurt in her arms, crying and clutching at her sweater with a grip so tight Burt’s afraid he won’t ever want to let go,

“What in the world are you two doing?” She demands and Burt knows that the only reason she also isn’t screaming is because she thinks herself too dignified for it. Burt hates her. She’s rubbing comforting circles on his son’s back, and Elizabeth is sobbing in the corner and Burt honestly does not remember everything he said in his rage and exhaustion but from the way his mother-in-law is looking at him, Burt feels exactly 2 inches tall.

That isn’t new. Burt has always felt 2 inches tall under her gaze,

“You are-” She continues, completely floored at their behavior, as if they would even dare , as if he would even dare to raise his voice at her daughter, irrationally, he feels the anger simmer at the bottom of his belly again, “You both are parents how on earth do you justify screaming at eachother so loud that Kurt wakes up screaming- ”

Oh, and as if those words are just not a thousand stabs to his heart right there-

“ He tries to stay quiet and tries to hide under his bed What in the entire world is wrong with the both of you- ” Her tone doesn’t change, still remains low and harsh but there are tears running down her face too, tears for nothing and nobody but her grandson because that boy is still sobbing, she can feel her neck wet, but he still won’t make a sound-

Nanna Alaria shakes her head, her grip tightening on Kurt in a stance that is purely protective. Burt tries to take a step, who on earth does she think she is trying to protect his own son from him , but his feet don’t move. He watches her calm herself down with just a breath, and god does he hate how in control she always is, as if nothing ever shakes her for too long, and hears her say, “I’m taking him with me right now. I don’t care what anyone says, but he’s coming with me to France and he’s staying there until you two finish this. It doesn’t matter to me how this ends.” She says this as if she isn’t talking about her daughter’s marriage of eight years. She says this as if she’s talking about a particularly bloody wrestling match, “I don’t care if you decide to stay together or separate but Kurt isn’t staying one more second in a place that so completely terrifies him.”

Burt waits for Elizabeth to say something, maybe to protest. Burt wills himself to protest, but nothing follows his mother-in-laws proclamation except silence. They watch her scoff at their cowardice, as if they are children, but she doesn’t spare them another glance, just walks right of the door with their son in her arms. No need to pack or make arrangements. She’s rich enough that she’s never had to think about these things. Burt feels relief course through him, and the only person he hates more than himself in that moment is her.

They try to make their marriage work for exactly two days before Eizabeth presents him with divorce papers. Burt isn’t surprised. Doesn’t try to convince her to stay. The last two days without the buffer that was their child has made him realise how bad they actually are at this. How much Elizabeth has been keeping in and how annoyed and angry he gets at any and everything of hers that reminds of the difference in their class. Her stay at home job, her superior sense of style, her mannerisms and words of choice. Even after 10 years together, and living those 8 years with him in his rundown apartment, she’s still very inexplicably rich and he feels like a hick in front of her. Everything about her that he had found alluring and sophisticated back in highschool now serves as a reminder of how much better than him she is, and Burt hates himself for feeling this way, but they just don’t fit together.

It takes 4 months for the divorce to finalize, it would’ve been a lot faster if Kurt had been present, but neither he nor Lizzy had wanted to have that conversation with her mother. She leaves for France as soon as it’s done though, leaving behind only a phone number mumbling at him to call if he wants to speak with Kurt.

Burt stares at that number, wonders how long he should wait to call, wonders if he even should call. It’s no secret that he and his son don’t share any common interest, and all Burt’s ever done is make Kurt feel uncomfortable with his pushiness, but Kurt’s still his son and don’t all sons need their fathers?

He calls Elizabeth a couple of days before Christmas, demands that at the very least he still wants his son with him for the birthdays and holidays. If she wants to make a crack at his sudden willingness to be a father, she doesn’t do it. And if Burt is surprised at how easily she agrees to the arrangement, he doesn’t show it.

Kurt only comes home for the 25th and the 26th. And if Burt is angry at the beginning about how little time they will have together, by the end of it he’s only thankful. Kurt shows up at the airport with an airhostess next to him in a pair of pressed shorts, suspenders and bowtie, with his shirt tucked in and his hair in a careful side part. Burt can feel the airhostess in charge of his boy judging him when he picks up his son in stained jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. It’s the same look people gave him all the time when he walked beside Elizabeth anywhere. He hates that look. At 7 years old, Kurt already has more class in him than his old man.

The next two days, Burt takes Kurt to the garage with him and is pleasantly surprised at how fascinated Kurt is about everything. Kurt talks about his life in France while learning about oil changes, and Burt tries to pay attention to him as he goes on and on about his new school, and his new home, and how nobody makes fun of him and how everybody dresses so nicely, daddy.

Burt cringes slightly at the high pitched daddy but doesn’t say a word.

The arrangement works for a while but not for long. Kurt hates travelling so much. For Easter, for his birthday, for thanksgiving, for christmas. He hates that he can’t spend any of his holidays with anyone except his dad. His english is deteriorating slightly from disuse, and he rants in French when he gets too excited or too nervous. His mother-in-law refuses though to move him, though. Says Kurt is happy where he is and if Burt has that much of a problem with Kurt getting comfortable with French, maybe he should learn the language himself.

A few years later though, Elizabeth calls in the middle of September, when Burt isn’t expecting her in the least,

“Mamma’s opening a new branch of her fashion house in New York next year. She thinks it’s high time New York was graced by the beauty and power that is Alarie. I just think it’s because Kurt’s already been talking about going to college at Parsons. So, we’re moving back to the states this December. I managed to convince her that Kurt is old enough now that if he wants a relationship with his father, she can’t say no to him. We’re still not going to be staying in Lima. But, I’m looking for a house in Westerville.”

“You’re coming back?” Burt still can’t really wrap his head around it.

“Yes. Look, I need to go. I need to pick Kurt up from school. Good bye.” She says and hangs up before Burt can respond.

Blaine attends Westerville Heritage Middle school and is known amongst his peers as some sort of a boy wonder. He’s in AP classes and maintains a straight A grade card. He’s in football and is considered the ace even though he isn’t the quarterback or the captain. And though he isn’t in their school’s choir because of how religious and catholic the whole is, he does sometimes play the organ for them. Even if Blaine didn’t have any of those talents, he’s sure he would be popular enough just based on the fact that he’s one of the very few students who has a chauffeur picking him up and dropping him off every day. Blaine knows he’s not the only rich guy in this school, but he’s probably one of the richest and he’s definitely the least snobby about it. Rich kids usually like to stick to their own groups, but Blaine is too sociable to limit himself like that, so he befriends everybody and is well-liked in return.

It’s in his last year of middle school something interesting finally happens. He’s walking towards his math class after a bathroom break when he sees him coming out of the principal’s office. The hallway is empty because classes started 10 minutes ago, and the new guy looks incredibly confused by his schedule (and he’s definitely new. There is no way Blaine would ever forget a face that pretty). Considering how pretty the boy is, and how social Blaine is, it’s no surprise that he forgets all about math and starts walking towards the new kid instead,

“Hey.” Blaine calls out, and the boy looks up from where he was studying his schedule as if it was an ancient scripture. Blue eyes meet hazel ones and Blaine promptly stumbles on thin air, almost landing face first on the dirty floor,

“Hello?” The new boy’s tone is nervous and a little questioning, but Blaine is having trouble getting over how soft his voice is,

“Hi. You’re new?” Blaine asks, making the other kid blush and look away,

“I stand out a lot?”

Blaine wants to say yes. Yes because you look like an angel and sound like an angel and breathe like an angel excuse me, maybe, are you possibly an angel? But Blaine also really doesn’t want to look like a crackhead. Blaine shakes his head no, notices how thick the other boy’s accent is. European. But, his english is confident too, so at least, he’s fluent.

“Not at all. You just looked a little confused.” He says and motions towards the schedule the boy is holding,

“Oh. Yes, This is a little confusing. I am supposed to go to different rooms for different classes?”

Blaine chuckles lightly, the boy looks adorable with the confused furrow of his brows, “I take it you’re not from the States.”

“No. Yes- I mean, I am American. Just, I was in France for most of my elementary and middle school.”

“So, what brings you to little old Ohio?”

The boy smiles, as if Blaine’s just made a joke, “My Nanna needed to move to New York for a while, and my mom wanted me to get closer to my father who lives in Lima, so we moved here.”

“Hmm.” Blaine makes grabby hands for the schedule and says, “Gimme, I’ll show you how to figure this place out.”

The relief on the boy’s face is so stark it makes Blaine laugh, “Thank you so much. I’m Kurt, by the way. Kurt Alarie-Hummel.”

Blaine blinks, “Alarie? You’re from France? Alarie like the fashion house?”

“Yes, you know it?” Blaine nods,

“I’m Blaine Anderson. Like the ANDRSN magazine? My mother likes to keep on top of things like these.”

“Oh! I love ANDRSN! I started reading them a couple of years ago when I was stuck at my Nanna’s office and ran out of vogue. Their 2008 summer issue is probably my favorite cover of any magazine yet.”

Blaine laughed, and before he could question himself too much, he took Kurt’s hand and squeezed, “I believe we’re going to get along great, Kurt.”

And they do. Blaine helps Kurt adjust to the american school system, showing him around town on weekends, taking him to the mall where Kurt looked absolutely appalled by the selection of clothes they sell, he takes him to dinner in lieu of showing him diners and restaurants and places to eat. Neither of them call the outings dates. They’re just getting to know each other. Becoming close friends. But, sometimes when Kurt takes his hand in his across the table at a coffee shop or when Blaine insists on paying the bill for their dinner even though they’re both more than capable of splitting it, neither of them bother to hide their smiles.

Blaine doesn’t think Kurt is having a hard time at school. He has no reason to think so. So, he is definitely shocked at the scene he comes across one day coming out of his AP chemistry class,

Kurt is standing right across the hallway from Blaine’s class, no doubt waiting for him so that they can go study together (Blaine is in dire need of some French lessons, and Kurt is beyond fluent) when he sees 3 guys from the Hockey team coming towards him, carrying a bucket of something or the other in one of their hands. One of them points at Kurt and nudges the guy in the middle, snickering. The guys walk by nonchalantly, so much so that Blaine is sure he’s just being paranoid, but then the make a sharp turn, and just upends the bucket over Kurt, cold water and ice cubes raining on him as he freezes under the assault, head ducking down, and shoulders going high, his eyes are squeezed shut against the pain and mouth open to gasp out a breath,

Blaine doesn’t even think, he runs over, feeling a kind of rage building up inside him aimed at those stupid laughing buffoons like he hasn’t ever felt before,

“What do you think, princess? We’re just trying to help you live up to your name.” One of those guys laughs again, but Kurt doesn’t say a word, Just forces his body to relax against the cold and corrects his posture. His cold blue eyes regard them with no emotion, and slowly their laughs die on their lips,

“What the fuck you looking at, you freak?!” And that’s when Blaine steps in, pushing the guys away from Kurt when they start closing in on him and standing between,

“Back off, Reynolds.” He spits out, and though their looks of contempt don’t shift, the guys do take a step back,

“This doesn’t concern you, Anderson.”

“Fuck it doesn’t! You mess with Kurt again, I’ll have you pulled out of the hockey team.” Blaine says, then raises a brow, “The principle really likes my dad, you know?”

It’s a low blow, using his last name like that to get what he wants, and usually, Blaine would never do something so cliche. He likes depending on his skills and talents rather than his parent’s money. But, this is Kurt. And if there is anything Blaine has figured out about himself in the past couple of months, it’s that there are not a lot of things that he wouldn’t do for Kurt.

When the idiots walk away, Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and pulls him towards the boy’s locker room. Kurt stays strong and still till he’s in the hallway, but as soon as Blaine closes the door to the locker room behind him, Kurt’s shivering and coughing and getting out of his wet clothes as fast as he can,

“Here, go take a hot shower. I’ll get you some of my gym clothes, okay?” Blaine waits for Kurt to nod, and then goes to his locker to take out his towel, a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he keeps for gym. The shower starts running, and Blaine focuses on calming himself down. The confrontation is over. He would be no help to Kurt now by being angry.

Kurt turns off the shower, and turns around to see that Blaine’s already laid out a towel and some clothes on the bench. He quickly towels off and changes, walking over to the other side of the lockers to find Blaine shaking off his sopping wet clothes and trying to fold them without getting wet himself,

“You don’t have to do that-” He says softly, but Blaine’s already shaking his head, giving him a small, tired smile,

“It’s fine. Are you cold still?”

“Not anymore. Thank you for the clothes.” Blaine sighs,

“It’s fine, Kurt. You don’t have to be so formal all the time.”

Kurt flinches, and even though he knows Blaine means nothing bad, the word is too close to other meaner words, words like ‘uptight’, and ‘prissy’, and ‘ice queen’,

“I’m not trying to be formal- I.. I’m just grateful.” Maybe it’s the slight desperation in his tone, but it makes Blaine look up at him again, and when he sees the expression on Kurt’s face, he places the wet clothes on the bench and moves closer, placing warm hands on Kurt’s slightly cooler cheeks,

“Those guys, do they pick on you often?”

Kurt hesitates, feels his cheek burn at the lack of proximity between them, “Not- not like that. Never this much. It’s only ever some taunts here and there. It’s okay.”

“Taunts?” Blaine raises a brow,

“Yes, like-”

“Like ‘princess’?”

“Like ‘Ice Queen’ and ‘Prude’ and ‘That guy with the stick up his ass’.”

Blaine scowls, his eyes darkening, “Kurt-”

“I’m not trying to be, I swear. It’s just… It’s a little difficult for me to open up like this-”

“God Kurt, You’re doing nothing wrong. Those guys are just assholes, okay?”

Kurt doesn’t speak for a moment. Blaine is still holding him by his cheeks. He averts his eyes because he can’t turn his face, “You are very friendly with everyone here-”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be just as friendly. I just have this obsessive compulsion to make everybody like me. It’s not something I always enjoy about myself. Trust me. You’re perfect. You don’t have to have a hundred friends to be alright, okay?”

Kurt blinks, “Okay.”

“You just need me. I’ll be enough, okay?”

Kurt smiles, small and shy and tries to duck his head but fails,

“Okay.”

Kurt’s Favorite Cover Of The ANDRSN Magazine

[thiswomanshouldbewriting]

What if Snape had a daughter?

A gifset gave me this idea and now I can’t stop thinking about the utter potential of it. So, without further ado, here’s my take on what would happen if Snape did have a daughter. Special thanks to @galactic-pirates who helped me sort my ideas out. Warning, very long post ahead.

So, we know that freshly-out-of-Hogwarts Snape wasn’t really making great life choices, so let’s imagine that, on top of joining the Death Eaters, he also has a fling with one of them, and he gets her pregnant. Of course, the situation is far from ideal, and Snape as a lot of conflicting feelings about the whole thing, but still the baby is born and shortly after that her mother is killed in battle. Severus is left with little Lilith, who has a name that starts with L as a little, secret homage to Lily. He’s determined to be a better father than his, but at the same time he has no idea where to even start.

In the meantime, he switches sides in the war due to Lily being in danger. Lily dies, the war ends, but Severus knows that Voldemort isn’t truly gone, and he knows that, when he comes back, his daughter will be in great danger given his role as a spy. So, as little Lilith grows, he takes great care in teaching her how to defend herself. She knows how to cast simple spells and brew potions even before she goes to Hogwarts. She’d very talented, and has her father’s unconditional support, but at the same time she feels his constant worry, and that often makes her feel like she’s still not good enough, not as good at him. She loves her dad, and he loves her, but with Severus’ history it was obvious that their relationship would be a little problematic from time to time. 

Lilith - who is one year younger than Harry - gets sorted into Ravenclaw, and soon becomes the best student of her year. Between that, her crooked nose, and the fact that her father is possibly the most despised teacher at Hogwarts, Lilith doesn’t really make a lot of friends. Nobody dares bully her, both in fear of retaliation from Snape and because they’ve seen her hex someone who was bothering her, but Lilith is mostly a lonely girl. The one person whose company she doesn’t really mind is Luna. Luna is weird, sure, but she doesn’t look at Lilith with mistrust or anger because of who her father is, and while they don’t really talk much they feel at ease around each other. On their second year, when Luna is reading the Quibbler and Lilith is writing her Transfiguration essay, Luna casually tells her she’s happy that they’re friends, and Lilith is kind of shocked because she hadn’t even realized it until that moment. She decides she really likes the idea of having a friend.

For the record, the fact that Snape now takes a lot less points away from Ravenclaw has absolutely nothing to do with his daughter. Nope, not at all. Also, it is only an accident if, during Duelling club, Lilith casts a Leg-Locker Curse on Lockhart. She just misaimed, that’s all. 

When Voldemort comes back, Snape holds on to the hope that Voldemort will not expect Lilith to join the Death Eaters until she’s 17 at least, and that gives him three more years. He tells Lilith to be always on alert and not do anything to attract attention to herself. Dumbledore has promised that she’ll be safe, but the last time Dumbledore promised that he’d keep a woman Snape loved safe it didn’t end well, so Severus really doesn’t trust him on this. 

Lilith tries to follow her father’s advice, but it’s really really hard when Umbridge is around, practically begging to be hexed every time she breathes. When Luna tells Lilith about the possibility of secretly studying DADA with Harry Potter, Lilith tells her she’s not interested. First of all because she is sure she knows more spells than Potter himself, and because this is exactly the kind of thing that could attract attention to her. 

And yet, as Luna tells her about the meetings and Lilith’s frustration at Umbridge grows, she can’t help but wonder if joining the DA might actually be worth it. Yes, she knows a lot of spells, and she has practiced them with her father, but extra practice cannot hurt, especially in times like these. Plus, she’s curious about Harry Potter. Her father hates him, but he has survived to Voldemort several times, and she doesn’t truly believe it was all luck. She knows more than him, but he has the experience she completely lacks.

So, after discussing it with Luna, she shows up at the DA meeting one day. She gets a lot of sideways glances, because people expect her to tattle to her father or to Umbridge, and even Harry looks a bit shocked, but when Luna says they’re friends he doesn’t contest it. Hermione makes her sign a scroll - even though Lilith thinks it’s really dumb to write a list of everyone who is involved in an irregular activity - and the lesson begins. 

Just as she expected, Potter is explaining some very basic spell that she has already mastered, and after a while he realizes that it’s really pointless to pair her up with anyone other than himself. One thing leads to another and soon they’re engaging in an actual duel, and while it’s true that Lilith has more knowledge, Harry has very quick reflexes and his spells are always incredibly powerful. Only when Lilith finally disarms Harry they realize that everyone is looking at them; there’s a moment of silence, then everyone starts clapping. Their duels soon become a constant of the meetings, and Lilith even teaches Harry a few new spells, which he later teaches to the whole class. Lilith is good with spells, but she doesn’t have the patience to teach, so they work in tandem. Harry always avoids talking badly of Snape around her, and makes sure that no one else does. He still dislikes Snape a lot, but he knows how much it hurts to have someone badmouth your parents in front of you. Also, Lilith is not guilty for what her father does, and he understands that even better after he sees Snape’s worst memory and learns what a bully his father once was. 

Severus is not pleased at all when Umbridge dismantles the DA and he discovers that Lilith was part of it, and he gives her one hell of a scolding, but he’s also proud when she tells him that she beat Harry Potter in duel more than once, and he tells her so. He’s also proud because, even though she did something risky, she did it because she knows the situation is serious and she was trying to learn how to defend herself more effectively. 

It takes Dumbledore a lot more effort to convince Snape to kill him, because Snape knows just how much this will endanger his daughter. After he supposedly betrays Dumbledore, Lilith will be the daughter of a traitor in the eyes of the Order, and a traitor to the Death Eaters if she doesn’t join them. Since he has no intention of ever letting her anywhere near Voldemort, that would mean putting her between two fires. However, he’s aware that he really cannot blow his cover with Voldemort, and refusing to kill Dumbledore when Draco inevitably fails would do exactly that, so he caves in. What follows is possibly the worst year of his life, because he knows his time with his daughter is running out and he hates to think that she’ll see him as a monster in just a few months, but he can’t tell her anything, and it hurts so much. 

Lilith is woken up one night by the sound of screams and spells being cast, but by the time she finds out where the commotion is coming from the battle is already over, and Dumbledore is dead. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach when McGonagall and Flitwick ask to speak to her, and when they tell her what her father did she can’t believe it, she doesn’t want to believe it, and yet she knows that it must be the truth. She’s angry, she’s confused, she’s hurt. She can’t believe that her father would really betray everything he taught her to stand for, and a part of her hopes that this is indeed part of a very convoluted plan, but even she doesn’t fully believe that. 

She’s placed under the care of Andromeda and Ted Tonks. Not joining the Death Eaters after her father’s actions means she’s taking a stand against them, and Death Eaters are extremely vindictive with relatives who betray their cause. Andromeda and Ted have been hiding from Bellatrix for quite some time, so they know what they’re doing, and if things go south Lilith can say that she was being held captive, and that’s why she didn’t join Voldemort. 

Things go south pretty quickly, Voldemort gains control over Hogwarts, and Lilith realizes that staying with Andromeda is not safe anymore. She shows up at platform nine and three quarters on the first of September, and while the Carrows are somewhat suspicious of her at first, she has a nice cover up story, and she manages to convince them. It’s not an easy year for anyone, but for Lilith in particular. Most people - aside from Luna, Ginny, Neville and a few others - mistrust her and think of her as a wannabe Death Eater, and she can’t really do much to prove them wrong under the new regime. 

Still, she starts working in the shadows together with what’s left of the DA. She never takes a public stance against the Carrows, but she heals wounds, provides diversions, and acts as a lookout. She’s still holding on to the hope that her father is actually on the good side, and on the rare occasions when he shows up she tries to catch any sign that it might be so, but he seems to be ignoring her, avoiding to even meet her gaze. She doesn’t know what to think. 

She’s not in the room of requirements when Harry arrives, but when the students are being evacuated she stays at the Ravenclaw table, glad to have just turned 17, ready to fight. This is huge. She is the daughter of a Death Eater, and yet she’s fighting against them, and one of the Slytherins who are still being evacuated screams at her that she’s a traitor. Other kids start mumbling insults but, before McGonagall can silence them, a fifth year Slytherin student steps forward. Lilith draws her wand out, ready to protect herself, but Avery just stands awkwardly in front of her, everyone’s eyes on him. 

“My uncle. He got injured during Easter holidays, and that made him deaf from his right ear. If you attack from that side he might not hear you coming,” he says.

Lilith is so shocked that, for a moment, she forgets how to speak. Before she can say anything, however, more Slytherins step forward, telling her about their Death Eater relatives and their weaknesses. One boy, who is in her same year, even decides to stay and fight. The battle doesn’t drastically change from canon, but Lilith’s presence gives other kids the courage to stand against their families, and the four houses join the fight united. 

I suppose in the end Snape dies anyway, but that is way too sad to think about it. Anyway, this got so long because love the potential of this idea. Pls share your thoughts on the matter.

[damagingnosh3536]

I like that it interfaces with the MyMedela application to monitor pumping sessions which I think would come in extremely convenient during the initial scarcely any weeks after birth.

The battery just endures around 3-4 pumps, significantly less than the Spectra. The handle isn't generally a handle so it's cumbersome to convey while pumping.

As different audits have noted, there is a "kickback" issue where the milk pushes back towards your areola before going down the spine and into the container. It isn't generally an issue, however sort of a strange sensation. The pump parts are likewise a lot heavier and increasingly ungainly to deal with. It's hard for hands free bras to hold them set up, particularly in the event that you additionally pump a ton of milk without a moment's delay. I don't care for that the pump was made to work with just these new parts so I can't utilize any of my old ribs which makes it considerably progressively costly to purchase every single new accomplice to have additional items. Additional parts are fundamental for a select pumper. Which carries me to my HACK for this pump:

I had just hacked my Spectra S1 to utilize my Medela extras so I had these "long stem reverse defenders" that I discovered here on Amazon. I cut the yellow pieces off the parts of the bargains tubing and associated the tubing to these reverse defenders and now I'm ready to utilize the entirety of my old ribs rather than these new ones. It likewise keeps the pump a shut framework for clean purposes. This kills a great deal of my issues with this pump. I simply wish I didn't need to hack such a costly machine!

I purchased this pump as my last new toy for my pumping venture. I have been pumping for right around two years now with my second (and last!) infant. I'm an oversupplier and I give my overabundance milk to a preemie milk bank. In the event that I had everything to over once more, definitely I would presumably get it once more. It is at any rate superior to the PISA, however not tantamount to the Spectra, as I would see it. The main thing superior to anything the Spectra is the size. Spectra is a beast contrasted with this thing.

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Erin C.

3.0 out of 5 stars I experienced a ton of difficulty with poor stockpile and failure to let down for the pump ...

Inspected in the United States on January 31, 2018

Style: Sonata Breast PumpVerified Purchase

I'm a working mother who pumped for a year with my last kid, and has returned to work now with a multi week old at home. I pump 2-3 times grinding away, in addition to 1-2 times at home, notwithstanding breast nourishing around evening time and on ends of the week. With my first youngster, I experienced a ton of difficulty with poor stockpile and powerlessness to let down for the pump or my infant from the outset, however with a ton of work, was creating enough to quit enhancing at about a month and a half, and afterward enough for twins by 3 months. This time my stockpile has been plenteous. I utilize my pumps on high settings as that abbreviates my pumping time, and my areolas can endure it. Pumping doesn't feel like breast bolstering, and once I had acknowledged that, I quit searching for a setting that felt better, and rather centered around agreeable enough and productive. Not every person can endure that, so my inclinations may not be for everybody. I utilize a hands free bra, and as a rule pump 10-12 minutes (past second let down and stop when totally dry).

I've utilized an Ameda given by my protection during first pregnancy (useless), and more seasoned model Medela PIS with every mechanical part and just single mode cadence, a Medela Freestyle, a Medela Symphony, and now this Sonata. I additionally utilize a Haakaa pump around evening time as DD just medical attendants one side each bolstering, and I would prefer not to need to find a workable pace subsequent to nourishing her.

My preferred pump is the more established PIS. Without the let down mode, I do get somewhat of a shock the main draw on the areolas, yet it is staggeringly solid, has solid suction, and I show signs of improvement volumes with that than even the Symphony. Be that as it may, it is never again made, somewhat unbalanced to haul around, and tends to suck milk into the tubing which I supplant normally. I got mine utilized with child #1, and will keep it until I realize that I will never require a pump again.

The Sonata is my subsequent top pick. I can get indistinguishable volumes from the PIS, however it took me making sense of that I needed to switch the beat over to the subsequent mood, and takes around 2 minutes longer. I'm right now utilizing power level 7 with it. It is somewhat gentler than the PIS as far as areola sensation.

This is what I love:

Compactness! I travel for work, and having the option to pump in the vehicle or on the plane with an inherent battery is tremendous. Additionally, simply having the option to stroll around the house with it is astounding. It requires a hand to hold the (dislike the Freestyle) and is somewhat unbalanced to hold.

It similarly the PIS underway. This is colossal.

It is calmer than most different pumps (however not anyplace approach quiet).

The new plan for the gatherers makes this basically a shut framework. No more milk in the cylinders.

This is what needs improvement:

It has a PC and is single client, however it is extremely unlikely to program in a setting. This appears to be somewhat strange in 2018. Its not difficult to transform from the default setting, however for what reason would it be a good idea for me to need to do that each and every time?

They utilized an alternate size tubing, so its absolutely impossible to decided to utilize your milk authorities from earlier Medela pumps without jerry fixing with outsider parts. Since nobody causes parts for the Sonata to with the exception of Medela, and things are not sold independently, it tends to be over the top expensive to have back ups or different sets, which is fundamental for any individual who pumps routinely.

It is extremely unlikely to purchase a the embellishment set with anything other than at 24mm spine. Those of us with ordinary size areolas who need a greater one at that point need to spent more to purchase the right size, and toss out the futile ones with the set.

There are pointless blares. Why include commotions when you promote that the pump is "extremely peaceful."

I am extremely worried about the dependability reports in different audits, and the conspicuous arranged oldness given that the manual expresses the pump is intended to labor for a year utilizing just 3 times each day. Who pumps just 3 times each day?

UPDATE : The unit unexpectedly quit working completely in the center of one of my pumping sessions at work when the pump was 2 months old. No admonition signs. Client assistance was extraordinary and got me another pump by means of UPS the following day. The upgraded one has required a hard reset once, yet has been working for around 3 weeks without disappointment. I've removed 1 star for unwavering quality, and just bought a Spectra S1 to go with, since I need a dependable pump when I'm not approach my back up PIS.

[sian265]

Legio autem Arcarius Legion of Archer Chapter 14

“Hold still Alec!” Cat scolded. “If I don’t get your fingers straight and you don’t heal correctly you may never pull your bow again!”

 Alec bit back a angry response. The best friend of Magnus had come immediately when called. She didn’t want Alec to use his Iratze until his fingers had been set. What he knew now was the pain he felt was one of the kidnappers stomping on Alec’s right hand as he clutched the bottom of Magnus’ pants. He wouldn’t let go willingly, so they broke his fingers. He didn’t know what hurt the worse, his head or his hand. Alec deliberately kept his eyes from his mangled hand, not even willing to entertain the thought he might never hold his bow again.

 His glare pinned Jayden in place. “Tell me what you know,” Alec ordered harshly. His archer took no offense, the lines of pain and anguish clear on Alec’s face.

 Jayden snapped to attention anyway. “Sir, I heard the crash of what I now know to be the cups falling to the floor. By the time I made it inside, all I could see was  the High Warlock being dragged into a portal by figures in white robes.” Jayden nodded his head at Underhill. “You both were unconscious Sir. I tried following them into the portal, but one of them shot a blast of magic at me.”

 Alec felt sick to his stomach. He knew now was not the time, but he was struggling to push away the very notion of Magnus’ being in their hands enduring the angels knew what. “You did your best, Legion, that’s all anyone can ask.” He looked at his second, Andrew’s face bore all Alec was keeping buried. The shame of failure, worry over their charge, and the lingering sickness from whatever those bastards had used on them. “Andrew, I need you to contact the Institute. Tell my mother I am initiating a codex silentium.”

 Underhill straightened in his chair. It was very rare for the Legion to declare a code of silence. It had not been used since the time of Valentine and the Circle and then used by a corrupt Consul. “Will she know what it is?” Andrew asked.

 Alec winced before replying as Cat popped one more finger into place. “Yes, she has repented but there is no changing the fact that she was a Circle member. She will know what it means.” The codex silentium declared a complete communication blackout. The Legion would be off the grid until their mission was complete, answerable to no one including the Consul. It also meant that every resource the Legion demanded would be met. The closest Head of an Institute would send a fire message with a special rune, known only to the Head and Consul. Nothing more would be heard from Alec and his archers until Magnus was returned to them safely.

 Underhill forced himself to his feet. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed to his Commander. “It will be done,” he stated before leaving the room.

 “Jayden,” Alec commanded. “Contact the High Warlock of Brooklyn; tell Rey I want him here now.” His archer also bowed, hand fisted over his heart before departing to carry out his Commanders orders.

 “Last one,” Cat warned and Alec gritted his teeth. The snapping of bone back in place was loud in the now empty room. “Now activate your rune and I will heal the rest.” Cat ordered.

 Alec nodded, sweat beaded on his brow. He let out a sigh of relief as the rune and Cat’s healing magic did the trick, He flexed his hand and moved each finger. Looking back up to Magnus’ best friend, Alec swallowed heavily before stating. “Thank you Cat, so very much and I am so sorry.” Alec hung his head and closed his eyes tightly. Now that he could not focus on his physical pain, the impact of Magnus’ being taken from him was hitting hard.

 Cat patted his now healed hand. “You couldn’t have prevented this. Magnus is the one who insisted on the party. I know how stubborn he can be very well. With the party of course the wards were going to be down and that made it too easy for someone to stash a spell somewhere in the apartment.”

 Alec looked back up at her, eyes fierce with determination and vengeance. “Yes and I have a pretty good idea of who. I will get him back Catarina, unharmed, even if I have to burn down New  York to do it.” Alec swore.

 Cat said nothing more just patted Alec’s hand. They both looked up at a commotion at the door as two of Alec’s Legion led a blustering Rey in. “Commander! I demand to know the meaning of this!”  

 Alec said nothing yet, turning to Cat. “Cat, if you wouldn’t mind excusing us for a moment?” After she departed Alec stood, hands behind his back and stared at Lorenzo. His voice when it came was not loud, but instead, low, but with no doubts as to who was really in charge here. “You have been around for some time now, correct High Warlock?”

 Lorenzo puffed up like a peacock. “I’m no stranger to service having been alive for over 300 years.”

 Alec raised a brow. “Well then you’ll be no stranger to  codex silentium and what that entails then.”

 Lorenzo’s face became pale and sweat appeared on his upper lip. He deflated almost like a balloon. “Yes, Commander, I am aware of what is required of me. How can I be of service?”

 “Good,” Alec replied and called Cat back into the room. “Now how about we all sit and discuss what happened here this morning.”

 They all took seats around Magnus’ dining room table. Alec waited until Lorenzo regained some of his composure before beginning. “Now,” Alec began. “I need you to tell me everything you know about your companion last night, Shinyun Jung.”

 Rey gasped. “Jung? Why what has happened to her?”

 “When is the last time you spoke to her?” Alec frowned.

 Lorenzo looked concerned and Alec could not detect any deceit in his manner. “Last night when we returned to my home, she departed soon after that. Again I ask Commander has something happened.”

 Alec looked at Andrew and received his nod. Underhill had the best nose for sniffing out deceit and hearts that held malice and Alec trusted his second without question. “This morning Magnus was kidnapped right out of this very apartment. Some spell, or drug, something was introduced last night during the party when Magnus’ wards were down. This knocked us all out and enabled the kidnappers to enter and take Magnus.”

 “They took the High Warlock of Alicante?” Lorenzo whispered in horror. Perhaps seeing that he wasn’t fully trusted yet, Lorenzo continued. “Magnus and I might not be bosom-buddies but as the first ever High Warlock of the Shadowhunters holy city, he is one to be respected and admired. I might let my personal jealousy sometimes cloud my interactions with him, but never would I wish him harm!”

 Alec felt a little of the tension in his body ease. “Ok, then tell us of your apprentice.”

 Rey shook his head. “No offense intended but are you sure it was her?”

 It was Andrew that answered. “Everyone else last night was a known, everyone including yourself Mr. Rey was fully vetted by the Legion and Magnus. Your guest was the only unknown.”

 Lorenzo appeared thoughtful. “Well it would explain some things. Shinyun Jung came to me about three months ago with a reference from a Korean High Warlock that I know. I always require a reference before I take on a apprentice.”

 “What stood out about her, Lorenzo?” Cat asked.

 “She was just not as knowledgeable as one would expect given the age she claimed to be. Now that I can look back it does seem to match what you are saying with some impressions I had of her. She did seem to have an unhealthy obsession with Magnus, but at the time I thought nothing of it. Many young Warlocks are fascinated with the High Warlock of Alicante. She would also ask about spell work and ingredients that tended more towards darker magic than I perform.” Lorenzo’s eyes widened as a thought came to him. “She also asked about the offspring’s of fallen angels.”

 Alec sat forward in his chair. “Do you remember any of the spells she asked you about?”

 Lorenzo frowned and was silent for a moment or two. “It was just a bunch of nonsense. Nothing really that could be put together to accomplish anything. Honestly, Commander I find it really hard to imagine even if she is involved in the kidnapping that she could do anything to a Warlock of Magnus’ abilities.”

 “That is my fear Lorenzo. If she and this cult cannot succeed in what they hope to, what use then do they have with Magnus?” Alec’s voice was low and he fought hard to keep it from trembling. Beside Cat couldn’t stop her gasp from escaping. They all sat silent, thoughts of what Magnus could be going through and facing causing horrible images to haunt them.

 Alec sprang out of his chair, unable to handle sitting still any longer. “Lorenzo, please provide my second with any information you have on her living quarters or friends, hang-outs that sort of thing. Cat if one needed to do a large powerful spell, can you list what would be required based upon what little we know?” Alec paced around the room as he gave his orders. He needed to escape just for a moment, a minute or two to collect himself, steel his will, and banish any lingering images of what Magnus could be going through. If he allowed himself to linger there, to even think of the man he was falling in love with, suffering, Alec would go insane and be no use to anyone, especially Magnus.

 He did not go back to the guest room; no Alec carefully opened the door to Magnus’ bedroom. The scent that lingered almost sent him to his knees, thoughts of Magnus and how he had looked and smelled before the party last night, filling Alec’s head. Wait! The party last night, he and Magnus together in this very room, the gift he gave Magnus! Alec spun on his heels and went running back into the living room. “The gift!” he almost shouted, coming to sudden stop before the others. “I gave Magnus a bracelet last night, a special gift made from one of my own arrows! We can track him using that!”

 Cat stood. “Was he still wearing it when he was taken?”

Alec’s mind stuttered and his thoughts went blank for one second. Visibly pulling himself together he searched his memories. “I think so. I don’t remember seeing him remove it. Andrew?” Alec asked his second.

 Underhill also stood, frowning. “I don’t recall seeing a bracelet Commander.”

 “It was hidden under the cuff of his shirt. Cat, can you check his bedroom? You would know where he puts things he removes.” Alec asked. He then went over to the area where Magnus had been seated and searched the chair and the floor. He did not see the bracelet. They stood silently waiting while Cat searched Magnus’ room. Alec saw her first and he didn’t even have to look down at her hand to know the answer. Written all over her face was the fact that the best lead they had of finding Magnus was not on his wrist, but in Cat’s hand. She carried a small ornate box over to Alec, the lid open and in it resting on a bed of gold velvet, was the bracelet.

 “Damm it!” Alec exploded. He turned his back to the other three, eyes clenched tightly shut. He fought with everything in for control. His logical mind knowing none of this would help Magnus, but for the first time, emotions threatened to cloud his judgment. Mind going in a million different directions, Alec clenched both fist in his hair. “Think Alec, think,” he whispered to himself. Muttering to himself he paced back and forth in a straight line, and the others left him to it. Finally, he released fistfuls of hair, dropping his hands back down to his sides, Alec took a deep breath before turning around and facing Cat, Underhill, and Lorenzo.

 Another deep breath in, hands going firmly behind his back, Alec stood tall. “If we look at what we do know, they want to summon Asmodeus for some reason and they think to use Magnus to do it. For that kind of spell work they’d need some pretty powerful Ley lines.”

 Cat nodded, “Absolutely, and you know where to find the best map of the cities Ley lines, don’t you Alec?”

 For the fist time that morning, Alec smiled, but not his usual smile. No, this one promised retribution to any who stood in his way to getting Magnus back. “Cat, we need a portal. We are going to the New York Institute.”

 TBC…

[etaeternum]

Resolution

Bond of the Grey (Dragon Age Fanfic)

Ch 4

A flashback on the pain of Caoilainn’s infertility. The healing couple sets some rules.  TW: Depression, infertility, referenced cheating. 

9:35 Dragon

The third year, toward the end of their holiday at the cabin, they walked to Redcliffe Village to gather supplies for their trip back to Denerim. Merchants gawked at the royal couple’s candidness each time they came for supplies. The pair wandered the town with relaxed conversation until Caoilainn stopped in her tracks in the busy commotion in the village.

Alistair noticed she was not at his side from a few paces ahead. Brows furrowed with concern, he swiveled to see her staring. Following her eyes, he spotted a common woman holding hands with a small child as they walked through the crowd. Conversing with the little one, the mother pointed to something in the distance and looked back to her daughter with a wide smile. Alistair’s gaze followed where the woman pointed. A short distance away, a man who must have been the girl’s father bent to his knees and opened his arms. The little girl waddled to him. He scooped her up and lifted her into the air before bringing his giggling daughter in for a hug. The mother, still smiling, walked to them; she was expecting another child.

“Oh. I just remembered I probably left the lantern lit... and the front door wide open,” Alistair mumbled, painfully aware of the sensitive topic of their infertility highlighted by this happy family's sentimental moment. What had once been a distant hope for a miracle pregnancy had sharpened to stabbing hopelessness over the years. He knew it sank into her gut each time she witnessed a mother and child, even worse, an elated family. “Come on, my love. Let's get back.” Alistair put his arm around Caoilainn’s shoulder and ushered her to walk a different direction.

Caoilainn gave a blank nod, her eyes reddening, tears pooling as she turned away. She shielded her eyes with a free hand as they walked, hiding her tearful reaction. With no clear way to console her, apart from offering guidance, Alistair walked Caoilainn in silence back to the cabin. Grief-stricken mood swings often incited emotional distance. Alistair still didn't know how to handle them; his usual method of giving her space wasn’t an option.

The two entered the cabin. An unexpected change of pace, Caoilainn spoke. With a heavy sigh, her head lowered and shook before facing Alistair. “I don’t want to go back,” Caoilainn declared as the door clicked shut behind Alistair.

His head tilted to one side. He made careful choice of his words, “I’m sorry, my love but we have to go back. We can’t stay here.”

Her gaze met his, brows furrowed, pleading and angry. Stubborn by nature, Caoilainn's stance stood strong. “Alistair, I’m tired of it and I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s like I’m at my mother’s salons all the time.” She rolled her eyes. Elbows bent, her hands spread with her aggravated speech. A probing gaze searched for his understanding as her words fell. “I hate entertaining noble women and I’m certain they judge me for not giving you a child. And you know I want to, Alistair, more than anything. But I can’t.” Caoilainn’s final statement released with a tired sigh, “I’d rather be in armor.”

He snorted, a slight chuckle of agreement. “Oh, I know it. You and me both. I hate meetings with advisors, signing scrolls, sitting through court,” he walked to her and put his gentle hands on her shoulders. “But I need you, my love. The gorgeous, smart, strong Queen that you are. I need your help with all this King stuff.”

Alistair valued his wife's return to Denerim three years ago. If he ignored what he knew of her relationship with her Lieutenant, Caoilainn's presence gave him support and her experience as Warden Commander made for good counsel. The choice to enjoy her return and trust its permanence abated any urge to confront the issue.

Caoilainn took an intense turn to meet his gaze with a creased brow and set jaw. “Then let me come to your advisory meetings. I can add my thoughts in court. It would save time from you asking for my advice later when you need it.”

“Well,” his gaze wandered and his eyebrows gathered as the word trailed off. “It’s really more of a man’s game. You know what I mean? No girls allowed, so to speak. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t change the rules.”

The excuse lacked validity. Women held roles and had voice in his court though few. Representatives from varying regions of Ferelden primarily consisted of men. Alistair's aversion to Caoilainn’s proposition sprang from insecurity.

Disgusted, her mouth slacked, lip curled; she blinked in disbelief. Exaggerated and annoyed annunciation coated each word. “But you can. You’re the King, Alistair. You make the rules.” She shirked her shoulders away from his hands.

Cheeks reddened, Alistair shrugged and his palm rubbed his neck. “That’s true, I suppose but I don’t know if everyone else is ready for that. I’m sorry, my love. I’d rather not rock the boat too much just yet. I’m still fairly new to this King business.” He avoided her suggestion.

That same year Caoilainn returned to Vigil’s Keep.

Days passed. Alistair’s disdain became annoyance with longing; churning the strange amalgam of love and resentment, anger and pining with neither a catalyst nor relief in sight.

The size of the collective forces required the fleet to march north through the Emerald Graves, reaching the low-lying Dales. Plains of open field skirted the forested land east until the frigid climate of the Emprise. Wider ground permitted the armies to march freely, less encumbered by the wooded environment. Grass and sparse trees spread through the large valley. Formations of rocks protruded from the earth, breaking up the uneven grasslands. Abandoned buildings showed remnants of complicated history, and occupied military bases needing repair scattered between boulders.

Alistair’s frustration came and went in waves as he stood away from the bustling camp unpacking for the evening. Instead, he observed the land ahead. Typical, he noted. She's given up. It often seemed habitual for Caoilainn to practice evasion of situations where she didn't have control. Reminded of her predictability, Alistair evaluated her absence as true to her pattern. Though he wasn’t surprised, the realization hurt.  

“Alistair?” A tentative and careful voice rang from behind; she stated simply his name. He closed his eyes. With a deep breath, he allowed Caoilainn’s voice to resonate and soothe stressed nerves, unable to deny he had missed the sound.

He replied without facing her. “Come join me to revel in the wondrous sight of the Orlesian countryside.” His sarcastic sing-song voice played at the deteriorating environment. Caoilainn’s quiet steps brought her to his side; Alistair pointed. “See, on this side is a crumbling Orlesian building. But over here is a collapsed military base because of civil war- Orlesians love civil war, you know.” He took in an excessive gasp, “And if you look far enough in the distance, you can even make out decayed elven architecture. Isn’t it lovely? We should come back here on holiday.”

“I’ll pass,” she gave a relaxed giggle, amused with Alistair’s review of the landscape. Relieved to receive his humor after spending days hesitating to approach him again. His playfulness made uplifting distraction from her fatigue. “I’d rather the cabin.”

She referred to the cabin outside of Redcliffe Village: the peaceful resting place purchased the first time she returned from Vigil’s Keep. After each Summerday the royal couple hid for a month in the mountains, away from the city. The visits ceased when Caoilainn fled back to the Wardens.

“I sold it,” Alistair replied without moving, his tone cold and indifferent. “The second year you were gone, I couldn’t reach you. I wouldn’t use it and I didn’t want the reminder of the good times we had there.”

“They weren’t all good times,” Caoilainn’s sad murmur echoed his aloofness. Her fond memories of the cabin had been sullied by Alistair’s timidity when she confronted him about changing policies.

Their last conversation at the cabin, not one of his finest moments, had replayed until his stomach turned. Nauseated and ashamed of his cowardice, regret singed his ego, now prodded by her murmur. “I’m sorry,” Alistair snapped an authentic but irritated apology.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” she mirrored his remorse with her own.

Amends hesitated; silence burdened with the unsaid. Side by side, the pair stood looking out on the horizon as dusk fell. Tacit reconciliation teetered on a cusp.

Emotion broke through Alistair’s tone. Sadness and regret sounded from the surface and underneath it, fear. “I don’t know what to do,” he explained. “Whether you cheat on me, or you run, or you die-” The last word stung. Alistair’s head made a quick turn as the impact hit. He inhaled. “How do I know you’re not just going to leave?” Like everyone does. Pain filled his incredulous question.

A teary gaze up from Alistair’s side, Caoilainn wiped her eyes. “I’m here and I'm not going anywhere. I’m committed, Alistair. I’ll do my best not to die anytime soon, but in the meantime I want to be with you. What do you need from me to prove that?”

“Rules,” his even tone gave a quick reply. Head turned to pierce her stare, he bit his lip for a moment then replied, jaw firm. “I need rules we agree on.”

Brows furrowed, unclear of his demand, she asked for clarification, “What sort of rules?”

“No one else,” he answered with his first rule. “It’s our marriage, not to be shared with anyone. No matter the distance between us, and no matter the time before we see each other again.”

“Of course,” she gave a hurried nod, “that’s a given.”

“Well, I figured I would make it clear, in case you had any other plans.”

Caoilainn sighed at his admonishment. “Alistair,” she groaned.

“I’m not done, my love,” he said, his sharp tone lifting as his mood softened. “Rule two: be honest with me. I want no more secrets.” Caoilainn’s silent nod gave him a signal to continue. “Rule three: Don’t make your decisions based on me. I don’t want your counsel if you’ll resent me for it. Don’t come back to Denerim to make me happy.”

“Thank you,” she cooed. Unhealthy elements of their relationship often arose from ill-considered efforts to satisfy the other. Caoilainn smiled; her tense shoulders eased.  

“Uh-huh,” he took her gratitude and gave a meager grin. “But that one’s for my sake as much as yours. Rule four: do not undermine me. I am the King of Ferelden, Caoilann and I need your respect.”

“My fealty stands, Alistair,” her hand covered her chest as she bowed her head. “No undermining. Do you have any other rules?”

“At the moment, just one. Tell me what you want from me. Please, if you’re missing something, if you need something, I need to know.”

“Those rules are fair,” she agreed. Her head lowered as she sought words. “I’ll need my own.”

“All right. State your terms, my Queen.” He lifted his arms, palms out. “Remember to go easy on me.”

Caoilainn gave a playful roll of her eyes. “One,” she lifted her finger to exemplify the word. “I need my independence. I’m not just your lovely Queen. No more spies and I want my own work. Most importantly, I want to be recognized for it.”

“Oh, woman,” Alistair snorted and rubbed his chin. “I said go easy on me. Damn, you drive a hard deal.” Caoilainn’s brows lifted, waiting for his confirmation. “We’ll make it work, my love.”

“Two: Don’t appease me. Don’t hold your frustration, anger or sadness and take it out on me ten years later.”

“Got it. Must bottle feelings for less than ten years,” he bobbed his head in agreement, a playful grin highlighting his jest.

“Alistair,” she groaned, failing her attempt to withhold a chuckle. “I’m not kidding.”

“No appeasing,” he confirmed. “Check. It’s a real shame though. I’m definitely the best appeaser I know.”

“Three: I won't make your decisions for you. I’m your wife, not your mother.”

“Ouch!” Alistair laughed and cupped his hand over his heart.

“I mean it,” she assured, her expression showing her severity. “Four: I stay Commander until we find a cure.” Alistair’s eyes squinted, humor lost. “Or until the Inquisition no longer needs us, then I’ll come back to Denerim. But I still want to make time for the search.” He gave a solemn nod and waited for her final rule. Caoilainn’s eyes widened, her face pleading, palms lifted. “Nate is my friend. I swear to you, nothing will happen between us, but he’ll need me if he takes over as Commander. Five: I keep communication with Nathaniel when I return to the city.”

The wisdom Caoilainn gained as Commander occurred when she undertook rebuilding the order on her own. Alistair's duties as King kept him from joining. She stayed embittered by his abandonment, neglecting her anger around the topic until she confessed her pain at Skyhold.

Frowning, Alistair gave a decisive shake of his head. “I can’t have that,” he replied. “I don’t trust him, Caoilainn and that would challenge the trust I need to rebuild with you.”

“It’s not that simple. There’s so much to leading the order, communications with Weisshaupt, the other divisions. I can’t just leave him to figure it out like I had to,” she reasoned, desperate to explain the complicated nature of taking over as Warden Commander.

“No,” Alistair reiterated, predicting her rationalization. “You can find someone else to command or he can communicate with me, the King if he needs help.”

“Alistair,” she made a curt statement of his name as if he might hear the harshness of this requirement. Unmoving, Alistair peered down at Caoilainn, set in his decision. With a deep breath in, Caoilainn centered herself, calming her nerves and worry surrounding her potential successor. She gave a patient nod. Her future with Alistair dependent on this priority made the choice simple.  “I understand.”

Resolution discovered, conversation assuaged years of bitterness and guilt. Mutual observance of reaction found amity. The two faced each other, Caoilainn in her Warden gambeson, Alistair in his leather brigandine; the Inquisition camp nearly set for the evening on one side and the open field of the Exalted Plains spread on the other.

“The rules can change.” Alistair broke their respectful silence. His hands found their way back to her shoulders. “But we need to talk should they be changed, expanded, or added to.”

“I appreciate that,” Caoilainn replied and held his gaze. Eyes locked, intense in agreement. Her excited heart fluttered with gratitude as relief washed over. The looming fear she might lose him vanished, bringing appreciative tears in place. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied. Effortless words, unneeded, understood by both, and spoken out of familiarity.

Rules set, hearts lifted, and hope renewed, both given an opportunity for redemption. Alistair’s anger now distant with her assurance and commitment; Caoilainn’s blind trust affirmed by his ardent love.

Alistair stepped in. Bodies pressed, a hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, his thumb pressed against her cheek. The other hand found her waist. Foreheads touched, thankful for reunion, absorbing hard earned connection. Alistair’s head lowered; earnest lips found hers, sealing their agreement with a kiss.

In unspoken congruity, the pair walked from the camp. Extending the harmony of this unifying outcome, savoring the moment in ardor. Like-minded steps carried them through the plains as darkness fell. The two walked in reverence. Stars shined from the clear sky, illuminating their path. Unhurried conversation allowed time to wander; flirtatious subtleties mixed through their dialogue more as the hour drew late. The Inquisition camp drifted from sight.

Concordant, the couple stopped as if reaching their intended destination. A tree marked the location. Its drooping limbs and base composed of many wide segments was unlike the barren branches of timber in the rest of the plains.

Caoilainn turned to face him. “We made it,” she whispered, distinguishing their wordless communication of intention. A few steps backward brought her under the tree’s protective arms.

“We did,” Alistair echoed, following her steps until they were both under the branches’ haven.

Steady steps, Caoilainn’s back bumped the tree and Alistair closed the space, pinning her so the thick trunk stood between them and the Inquisition camp. A small whimper released, Caoilainn’s hand grabbed the cord linking his spaulder. She pulled him in for a kiss. Engaged, the pair locked mouths. Alistair’s hand returned to the base of her scalp and their tongues separated lips, twirling in celebration of reunion.

Long seconds stretched by, love rekindling to fire until Alistair broke away. Caoilainn’s moan resonated as her neck tilted. Revealing sensitive skin begging to be bitten or throttled in a primal nature.

“I have another rule,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against the tender skin of her neck before leaving a gentle kiss.

Caoilainn emitted a soft ‘mmm,’ lost in anticipation for him to inflict brief anguish to stimulate pleasure.

“Rule six: no more pain. I’m not hurting you, Caoilainn. Even if you like it,” he murmured into her ear. The curve of his grin tickled.

Her hum turned to a whine; a disappointed groan unhappy with this information. She lifted her head, returning his gaze; displeased brows furrowed, lip protruded in a subtle pout. Something she discovered in her time away from Alistair, Caoilainn's penchant for masochism, built on a foundation of trust in whoever delivered the sensations, offered a reliable escape from life's pressures.

His wrinkled forehead reconnected with hers. “There’s already been enough pain between us.” Light earnest explained details of the rule, “But I reserve the right to grab that magnificent ass, and I might take an occasional nibble here and there, but no pain. If you want to get hurt, go practice in the training yard.”

She gazed up from under thick lashes and inhaled; her face relaxed, and she agreed. “Yes, my King.”

Alistair blinked, cherishing her reply, and allowing its essence to sink in. The authentic tone delivered three words and promised her total commitment, confidence, and faith in him as her protector; he grinned. “Rule seven: keep doing that. I like it when you do that.”

Caoilainn smirked and crooned another “yes, my King.” She tilted her head back against the tree, waiting for his next step.

Both hands found her waist, a half step back permitted momentum along with her compliance. In a quick motion, he turned her around to face the tree. A kiss on her clothed back coerced her head to turn to glance over her shoulder. She watched as he admired her form from behind. A hand cupped a muscular cheek of her rear.

“Rule eight: trust me,” he growled.

Caoilainn's body quivered, grateful adoration coursed through her veins. Extolling Alistair's direction, his certainty permitted her concerns to leave, replaced instead with freedom to savor their connectedness.

He squeezed her cheek harder, rougher with a satisfied grunt. In reply she moaned, frustrated with her limitations caused by clothing.

Alistair's head wandered to the other side of her neck, lips brushing skin, hot breath against her ear. “Rule nine: tell me if you don't like something I’m doing.”

“I like this, my King,” she whimpered, fleeting tension fled. Gooseflesh spread down her neck, tingling down her arms to her hands. She steadied herself on the tree.

“Rule ten: tell me what you want,” he ordered between kisses on her shoulders.

A giggling moan sounded, tempted by his affection, but amused at his last rule. “That was rule five.” Tactful teeth found her ear and nipped lightly on the cartilage. Her giggle lowered into a blissful sigh. “My King,” she added.

“Mm-hmm,” he sang. “You’re paying attention. That one is so important I said it twice. So, my love, what do you want?”

Decorum forgotten, responsibilities to the Wardens fled from her mind. Love brimmed, overflowing from every pore. Smiling lips buzzed pleasurably and Caoilainn whispered, “I want you, my King.”