#Amber casing a fly. and That also leaves scar on his face

[aoral]

Tubbo is snitching.

Oh.

Oh dear prime .

This just further proves the anarchist Tubbo theory - he:

doesnt support the feds, nor the order - or bbh- after whatever sthings happened between them, and now all he got is himself and friends. Man just want to bring his eggs back. And Fred. And Ron.

Watchout, here comes Tubbo with the Tubbochunk

[anthemxix]

whumpay day 4: ice / fire (part 2 - fire)

hello~ i split this prompt into two unrelated stories. ice was based on a star wars scene, and this one is based on a different movie. which is based on a book, but i haven't read the book since i was a kid. also i haven't seen this movie since it came out, and i went off-script from the scene quite a bit, but anyway, please enjoy wind having a rough time~

Panting, Wind flattened himself against an ages-old stone column, examining the glistening, waxy burns marring his trembling hands and arms. In his haste, he had foolishly dropped the loot bag that held all his potions. Waiting to heal his red, peeling flesh would surely result in scars; he hoped that would be the extent of the permanent damage, that his nerves or his range of motion would not be impacted.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, he thought. You might not even get out of here at all.

To emphasize the point, an immense roar reverberated throughout the labyrinthine corridors and chambers behind him, causing the column at his back to quiver like his burned arms. The movement knocked loose some stone chips and dust that rained down on Wind’s hair, but he didn’t bother to brush them away as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Warriors that morning, before he and the others had embarked on their mission.

“You don’t have to do this,” Warriors had rasped. Laying stiff and uncomfortable on a cot in a kind-hearted citizen’s home, he still looked terribly pale from the mass blood loss he’d suffered the previous day. The impalement wounds in his torso, mostly healed now, were securely wrapped in bandages. “We can think of a different plan.”

Wind sighed, rubbing his then-unblemished thumb across Warriors’ knuckles as he held his brother’s hand. “Why don’t you trust me? I’m the most skilled thief we’ve got. I can do this.”

“I trust you,” Warriors replied without hesitation. “I trust your skills. But this mission… It’s not our place to meddle in local politics in the first place, but to do so when the risk outweighs the reward? It’s not a good idea.”

“You worry too much,” Wind moaned. Tired of the Captain’s coddling, he stood up, releasing Warriors’ hand. “Just get some rest, and we’ll be back before you know it, with the fancy stone and everything. No sweat.”

Before Wind could walk away, Warriors grabbed his elbow, grip noticeably feebler than usual. “Sailor.”

Frowning, Wind turned back, preparing to dismiss Warriors’ overblown concerns yet again, but paused in seeing the somberness—and was that fear?—on his face.

“Promise me you’ll get out of there at the first sign of danger,” Warriors pleaded. “This isn’t worth risking your life over.”

Protestations died on Wind’s tongue, and he patted the Captain’s hand reassuringly. “Okay. I promise.”

But in the end, he hadn’t listened, Wind reflected now, feeling the ground tremble as the beast moved through the mines.

Everything had gone so smoothly since they departed the lakeside town, leaving Twilight to tend Warriors and Wild, their best archer, to prepare for the worst-case scenario. The ascent up the mountain, the unimpeded journey into the mines inside it, and Wind’s sojourn into the impossibly astronomical chamber that held what surely had to be the largest treasure cache in this or any era… It was all smooth sailing. He’d even found the stone they were hunting for, the ovular, iridescent jewel that apparently would restore a fallen regent to power.

He’d tried to be cautious, but apparently, he wasn’t careful enough. From beneath the endless piles of rupees, gold, armor, chalices, and gems rose a terrible monster more massive than any he’d ever seen. A scaled, winged demon whose chest glowed orange like a furnace, whose breath smelled of ash, whose snakelike, amber eyes glinted hungrily as its baritone voice echoed off the mountain walls.

“Where—are—you?” the beast drawled. “I know you’re here.”

Its claws clanked carelessly against the treasure as it stepped across the room, gargantuan tail flicking like a whip. “I can hear your breathing. I can smell you. Show yourself…little thief.”

Wind smacked backwards against the column now, holding his tender, burned arms out in front of him as he heard the mammoth beast thundering closer. He glanced at his friends, hidden, like him, in the shadows, their trap waiting for its victim.

It will be okay, Wind assured himself. We’ll catch it off-guard. We’ll go back and find my bag with the stone. Then we’ll go back to the town, to Twilight and Wild and Warriors, and we’ll all be okay.

He smelled smoke and ash as the monster approached, sounding half-amused, half-annoyed as it bellowed out, “I will find you, little Hylians. Little thieves. You won’t make it out of here alive.”

Wind had come face-to-face with death more times than he could count, but somehow, that voice, that threat, made his heart stutter like nothing else ever had. His eyes stung as he thought about all the calm and clear nights, perfumed by dewy grass, that he’d laid his head on the Captain’s stomach and pointed out constellations, had rambled about his high-sea adventures, maybe tossing in an embellishment or two to impress. Surely, there would be more nights like that. Surely, he wouldn’t die here, trapped in some crumbling, ancient mines inside a lonely mountain ruled by a treasure-hoarding beast.

He shrank back against the column, daring to peek as the creature clomped farther into the open chamber, smoke curling from its nostrils as it stopped in front of a golden statue as tall as the beast itself. It opened its mouth, perhaps to spew another threat, missing the first dribbles of liquefying metal as it swung its head around in search of its prey—but then the statue began to melt, collapsing in on itself and gushing out molten geysers that sprayed the monster directly in the eyes.

It heaved a pained cry, stumbling back a step, but was unable to avoid the tsunami of lava-hot liquid that clung to its scales and seeped into its nose and mouth. Bellowing in agony, the monster crumpled to the stone floor, nearly submerged in the molten gold, and for a moment, it fell silent and still.

Wind felt a surge of hope; he staggered to his feet, cradling his wounded arms to his chest, staring wide-eyed at the gilded body of the beast—but the monster suddenly reared its head, roaring, dragging itself upright as it screamed, “Pitiful Hylians! I will show you revenge!”

With melted metal flying off it in torrents, the monster surged forward, rampaged through the great hall, and recklessly smashed through the gigantic doors that had protected this mountain for centuries. Adrenaline had Wind bolting after the beast before he knew what he was doing, and he stumbled outside into sunlight in time to see the dragon stretching its wings and taking flight.

“I am fire,” it roared out, the orange glow by its heart amplifying, building up along its throat as fresh smoke poured between its teeth. “I—am—death.”

Wide-eyed, Wind watched the dragon sail with purpose across the lake and towards the unsuspecting town on its shores, towards the innocent people who would become the collateral damage of his failure. He heard the other heroes behind him, pounding across the cliff, shouting to one another, and he dropped to his knees, gaze never leaving the monster in the sky.

“What have I done?”

[littlemessyjessi]

“Come Away With Me” : Regulus Black: Plus Size and Shortie : Chapter One “Prisoner”

Reggie deserved better and by Godric he’s gonna have it. 

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You keep makin' it harder to stay But I still can't run away I gotta know, why can't you Why can't you just let me go?

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“Prisoner” - Miley Cyrus ft. Dua Lipa

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The turning point for Regulus Arcturus Black came the summer before his sixth year.

History was repeating itself.

Walburga Black stared down at her youngest son, seeing nothing more than Sirius in that moment.

She'd warned him about that girl.

Aurora Monroe, or Rory, had been Regulus' best friend since their first day.

It would seem that the Black brothers had a penchant for befriending half blood, half breed combinations.

But that wasn't why Walburga hated the girl.

She didn't even know Rory was a werewolf.

But she did know that she was a half blood and she knew that she was a Monroe.

And that was enough for her to hate her.

Two families who had been at each other's throats since what seemed like the beginning of time.

It all came down to money.

As most things did.

They were two of the wealthiest families in the wizarding communities of England.  

Thus it was a constant competition and rivalry set in a long time ago.

The Black had old money that came from a long line of aristocracy.

The Monroe's built their fortune and built it rather quickly and also managed to spite a Black ancestor in the process.

And thus began the fued.

Walburga had warned her son, over and over again about being around her but he didn't listen.

Regulus was far more mild mannered than Sirius but at his core...he was actually truly very stubborn.

And he refused to budge on that.

She'd threatened to blast him off the family tree just like she had Sirius.

A moment that was still burned into Regulus' memory.

But still he held steadfast.

But then she snapped the final chord.

Her and Orion had never joined Voldemort and his band of followers but she supported them.

And she had every intention of Regulus joining the ranks.

Even if meant she had to force him.

It wasn't even that she was willing to force him to do something.

He was used to that.

But he knew what that meant.

It meant a death sentence for Rory and Regulus would burn it all down before he let that happen.

He flew up the stairs and into his room rummaging around for the mirror he and Rory had gotten from Zonko's before the summer.

"Rory! Aurora!" he called into the mirror.

He could hear her fumbling for a second before her freckly scarred face appeared.

"Hey, Regs!" she broke into a grin but it quickly faded when she could see the distress on his face. "Regulus, what's wrong? What happened?"

"I gotta get out of here." he said, struggling to breathe. "Right now."

"Ok, ok. What happened? Are you ok?" she asked, amber eyes searching him through the mirror.

"I'm fine. But I gotta go.  I'll be ok. But I needed to tell you just in case you don't hear from me for a bit." he said holding the mirror with one hand and shoving things into his trunk with the other.

A loud banging at the door caused his head to snap the side and the unlocking charm could be heard as his mother opened the door.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" she screeched and Aurora gasped.

"Who is that?!" Walburga snapped and snatched the mirror out of Regulus' hand.

She seethed as she took in the sight of Aurora Monroe on the other side of it.

Regulus didn't even have time to prepare for impact when Walburga backhanded him and threw the mirror across the room.

Aurora's angry scream could be heard right before it shattered and Regulus looked at his mother in horror as she advanced.

"The only way you leave this house is over my dead body." she whispered and Regulus looked up at her in horror.

"That can be arranged."

The two of them turned to look at the tiny figure in the door who had clearly just apparated into mass chaos.

Amber eyes ablaze and white hair like a halo around her.

She was furious.

Aurora looked nothing short of an angel of death.

"You little bitch!" Walburga growled. "Stupid filthy mudblood! You'll be expelled for using magic outside of Hogwarts."

Aurora smirked, "I'm of age, you musky hussy."

Walburga drew her wand and Regulus panicked.

"No!" he said lunging at his mother but Aurora had already cast the spell to disarm her.

Walburga grabbed Regulus by the hair jerking his head back.

She narrowed her eyes at Aurora who absolutely refused to back down.

"You're not taking him." Walburga spat.

"You let him go or I snap this in half and turn it over to the ministry.  And I'm betting there's a fair share of unforgivable curses lingering in this wood." Rory said.

She and Walburga stared at each other for the longest time before Walburga's eye twitched.

She pulled her hand back and Regulus squeezed his eyes preparing for the blow when suddenly the pressure was released from hair and he stumbled to regain his balance.

Aurora had stunned Walburga and sent her flying back into the wall where she now lay unconscious.

She performed the body bind curse on her and turned to Regulus.

"Get what you need, Regs.  We gotta go.  Right now." she said  sternly but he was too shocked to move.

She sighed and reached out to touch his arm, "Reggie, we gotta go.  Right now.  Get the essentials."

He seemed to snap out of it and shoved a few things in his trunk before grabbing his broom out of his closet.

"Is there anyone else home, Regs?" she asked as she kept a watchful eye over Walburga's unconscious form and the door.

"No." Regulus shook his head. "Just Kreacher. Oh fuck."

It dawned him in that moment.

"Kreacher!" he called out.

A second later the house elf appeared with a pop and promptly began to freak out over Walburga.

"Mistress!" he wailed.

"Kreacher, please." Regulus said. "I know, I know.  But she was..."

"She was attacking Master Regulus again?" he asked and Regulus nodded.

"I have to go, Kreacher.  Come with us. I can give you clothes and free you.  I haven't been blasted off the tree yet." he pleaded with the elf who had become his friend over the years.

He knew better though.

"Kreacher must stay in the Noble House of Black." he said solemnly.

And suddenly Regulus understood how Sirius must have felt when he had to leave.

He didn't really have a choice but Regulus wouldn't go with him just like Kreacher wouldn't go now.

"Kreacher will keep the Mistress asleep." the elf said.

Aurora watched and Regulus knelt to hug the elf once more before grabbing his trunk and slinging his broom over his shoulder.

"Ok." he said, passing a hand over Kreacher's head once more.

Aurora stepped forward and Regulus wound his arm through hers before she turned and apparated away.

As they disappeared into thin air, Regulus' eyes watered.

Sadness, relief, fear.

It was all mixed into one but one thing was for sure.

Everything changed from that moment on.

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Chapter Two Coming Soon

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Keep Scrolling after author’s note for additional story pics!

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Hello, loves! I hope you enjoy this Regs story! It’s a tragedy what happened to Reggie and he was done really dirty both in his story and the lack of story we get for this multi dimensional selfless character! So he’s gonna have some good times in this story, dammit! 

Anyway, I love you all and I would love to hear from you!  Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, via reblog or just hit up the ask box! 

I love you all. 

Love, 

Kenny 

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Also, feel free to imagine Regs anyway you like but I do like him as Timothee Chalamet... like a lot of people because Timmy is precious. Also, I feel this gif perfectly encompasses his time in that hell hole.  It’s ok, Reggie bebe.  Mama’s got you.  I’ll give you cocoa and noms and blankies.  It’ll be ok now. 

Some inspiration pics for Rory! 

These all played a part in the inspiration for Aurora’s hair.  Rory’s hair turned white with stress due to her condition much like how Remus’ hair started greying early.  

I particularly loved the color of the first and how floofy it was.  But I love the texture and also the poof of the second.  I also absolutely adored the second lady’s freckles which I picture Rory’s being absolutely littered with. 

Aurora has golden brown eyes. Warm like the sun.  Here are a few inspiration pics. 

I also used these and the picture from the freckled girl with the yellow top as inspiration for her skin tone as I see Aurora as very brown but dashed in freckles and heavily scarred just due to years of being afflicted with lycanthropy.   I also think it makes a striking contrast with her hair and such an juxtaposition against Regs’ fair features and dark hair.  

This was my main inspiration for Rory’s scars.  She has them all over her but perhaps the most noticeable is the one on her face and I feel this one encompasses it perfectly.   

As far as height went I couldn’t find many pics for inspiration so I begrudgingly used my own tiny form of 4′11″ as reference lol.  She is smol bean like me.  I did find some body inspos though! Rory is very fluffy! 

I don’t always show my inspo pics for characters but I felt like it was nice thing to start to do as it always helps me begin to form the layout of a character.  And I love you all so I figured it’d be a nice thing to share.  

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Btw, the only tags I do is for my permanent tag list but if you ever want to be added to that, all you have to do is just go to the ask box and ask to be added! I’d be happy to do so!

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Also, if you love the Marauders feel free to check out some of my recent Marauder works! 

Chasing Jess (Sirius Black and Jess Scamander) 

A Deal With Cupid (James Potter x Reader) 

All Fun and Games (Poly Marauders Fics) 

Talking to the Moon (Remus Lupin x Reader)

Torn (Remus Lupin x Rowan Black) 

And honestly so many more. 

I’m kind of a ho for Harry Potter and an outright slut for the Marauders.  Just being honest. 

[panic-based-riot]

Gilded Chapter 2

Fandom: Inheritance Cycle 

Paring: Murtagh x OC, Eragon x OC, Love Triangle 

Warnings: None

Part 2/??

Ilirea woke to the sound of distressed chirping. She sat up on her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked around her home, searching for the high pitched sound. As it grew louder and more upset Ilirea turned her gaze to the small nest of blankets that held the egg. Or rather, used to hold the egg. In its place now sat a tiny dragon, chirping as it tried in vain to get a fragment of shell off its head. Moving slowly so as not to startle the small creature, Ilirea crawled over to it and gently grabbed the fragment. She smiled as she lifted  it off the baby dragon’s head. The chirping stopped, and it tilted its head to gaze at her curiously. 

A single happy chirp came from the creature, and Ilirea couldn’t help but stare in wonder. The tiny dragon was a brilliant yellow from head to tail, the underside of it a deep amber. As she stared, the dragon stared back, tilting its head as if trying to understand her. Then it reached out with its head, and she scrambled backwards. 

“No, you can’t bond with me. I’m taking you to the Queen.” 

The dragon chirped again, and lunged forward even as Ilirea lifted her hands to keep it away. The tip of the yellow nose hit her right palm and a white hot sensation ran up her arm, burning into her mind. She gasped as a bright silver light shone at the point of contact and something made contact with her mind, something powerful and ancient. 

The light faded, except for a dull glow from the oval shaped irregular patch of silver now in the center of Ilirea’s palm. She closed her hand around it and pulled back, staring in awe at the dragon as she trembled. 

Hungry

The thought, more of a feeling, drifted across her mind and she flinched. She didn’t want to be a dragon rider. She wasn’t supposed to be anything extraordinary at all, just a mistake in a small town. 

“Why? Why did you choose me?” 

She stared at the dragon, expecting an answer, but all that came was the sensation of hunger. She stood, still trembling, and moved to her small kitchen to grab the few scraps of meat that she had. She placed them on the floor by the dragon and it ate them quickly. 

A sense of gratitude flowed over Ilirea, and she sat back down on her bed, staring at the tiny yellow dragon. It chirped, looking back, and she sighed. “Well, now we definitely have to get to the queen. But how am I supposed to get you out of here? I can't just walk through town with a baby dragon on my shoulder.” 

The tiny thing wandered over to where her skirts from the day lay in a heap and it nosed at it before climbing into the pocket that she had carried the egg home in. It curled into it and let out a soft sound almost like purring. 

“Well, I guess that works.” 

Sparing a glance out the window, Ilirea gazed at the night outside. “I need to sleep more, we leave in the morning.” She lay down and curled into a ball, and the tiny dragon poked its head out of her skirts. It chirped twice, then skittered over the wood floor towards her and hopped up onto the small bed. While humming the same pitch the egg had earlier that day, the small creature circled twice before settling in the space next to her stomach. It purred and rested its head on its forelegs and the two fell asleep. 

Morning came with soft rays of warm sunshine as the sunlight fell on Ilirea’s face. The sound of soft chirping reached her as she opened her eyes and she saw the tiny dragon standing on her pillow, chirping. 

Hungry. Go, travel? 

The impressions of a rumbling tummy and trees passing overhead pulled Ilirea out of her bed. “Alright, let me get dressed.”

She quickly pulled on a new overdress and stays, tightened them, and looped her overskirt through her skirt hike again. From the same belt she also hung a small pouch of coins and a silver leaf-bladed dagger in its gold-tipped sheath, the only inheritance from the father she had never known. The tiny dragon half jumped, half flew over to where Ilirea stood, and it chirped thrice. With a smile, Ilirea bent over and scooped up the small creature and placed it into the pocket she had created. 

It poked its tiny head out, watching as Ilirea wandered around the house gathering things into a pack at the center of the room. She placed a blanket, a spare skirt, and a pair of tight trousers into it along with a hairbrush. She gathered up the blanket that the dragon had hatched in and tossed the yellow shell fragments into the fireplace, hoping to hide them. She wandered about the house a few more minutes before she gathered up the pack and looked down at the tiny dragon. 

“Well, are you ready?” 

The dragon seemed to smile and a sense of eagerness flowed through Ilirea’s mind.

 She smiled in return, “Alright then.” She reached for the door handle, but paused. All she’d ever known was this house and this village. Beyond that everything was unknown. She glanced down at the tiny dragon, now curled around itself in her pocket, and let out a sharp breath. 

The door opened to a quiet street, only a few people milled about as she closed the door to her home for the last time. Ilirea brushed her white blonde hair out of her eyes and froze as her fingers danced over the pointed tips of her ears. She quickly pulled her hair back down to cover it and moved as quickly as she could to the market. 

Along the way she smiled at a few friends, people she had known her whole life, and waved as if it were another regular day. At the market she bought a few strips of dried meat, three loaves of bread, and a new scarf, in case she were to encounter another village along her travels. As she was leaving, she passed a small stand that sold maps. 

The gentleman selling them smiled, the long scar on his balding head shining, “You seem to be off on a journey, surely you need a map to guide you?” 

Ilirea hesitated, then purchased a map of Alagaesia, stuffing it into her pack. “Thank you, sir. I’ve not seen you around this market before, may I inquire after your name?” 

He laughed, “You may, but I fear it will garner you no answers. You may call me simply Longshanks.” 

She smiled, “Well I thank you kindly, Master Longshanks. This will be helpful in my travels.” She lifted her hand in farewell, and the mapmaker’s smile fell. He reached out and gripped her wrist, tugging her forward. 

He turned her hand to show the silver brand on her palm, and Ilirea felt the tiny dragon stir in her pocket. 

“You would do well to hide this, Elf-child Dragon Rider. There are many who would take less than kindly to you walking brazenly in their midst.” 

Ilirea pulled her hand back, closing a fist around the mark and reached up with her other hand to make sure her pointed ears were still covered. “How did you-”

“The gedwëy ignasia is the most telling sign of a rider, young one. Hide it, and hide it well until you reach your destination.” Longshanks smiled.

“Thank you. I will. How do you know so much?” Ilirea nodded.

Longshanks simply winked and leaned back in his chair, speaking no more. Ilirea waited a moment, and when it became apparent that the merchant would share no more, she left, keeping her right hand close to her, hiding the Gedwëy Ignasia. She walked quickly through town into the dense green forest she knew so well and stopped only when she was far enough away to not be heard. 

Once she was deep into the forest, she knelt and lifted the tiny dragon from her pocket. She also unshouldered her pack, dropping a few of the meat strips on the ground for the dragon. She unrolled the map, looking over it. She had never been more grateful that her mother saw fit to teach her to read. The dragon gulped down the last of the meat strips and placed its front paws on the map, looking at it with Ilirea. 

“Ok, the capitol is here,” She placed a finger on Ilirea, the newly renamed capitol that shared her name, formerly Uru'Baen,  “all the way across the desert. But if we go this way,” She traced a finger along the edge of Du Weldenvarden and down through Lake Isentar and the Ramir River. “Then we can avoid the desert, and most cities except for Bullridge, until we get to Ilirea.” 

The dragon hummed, and Ilirea looked down at it, “I don’t know how fast you grow, but this is going to be a long trip. I’m talking months, so I hope you know how to hunt already. I can't buy us both food for that long.” The dragon looked up at her, its golden eyes blinking, and Ilirea sighed. 

“I suppose I should also give you a name. But I don’t know if you are a boy or a girl.” She looked at the slender dragon and mentally compared it to the other dragon’s she had seen. It seemed to fit the proportions of Saphira more than Firnen, at least from what she had seen from them both flying overhead, for Firnen was far stockier. “Are you a girl?” The dragon hummed excitedly, twitching its, or rather her, tail. 

Ilirea studied the tiny dragon, looking over her pretty yellow and amber scales. “What about Amber?” The tiny dragon snorted, looking almost affronted at the thought. “Ok, well…” She trailed off, thinking of an old word in an old human language that her mother had taught her. 

“Do you like Halcyon? It means golden.”

She flapped her wings and crowed, nudging Ilirea. 

“Ok, Halcyon it is then.'' She rolled up the map, placing it back in her pack, and shouldered it. She also grabbed a large handful of moist soil and rubbed it into her right palm, concealing her Gedwëy Ignasia. As she stood she held out an arm for Halcyon and she raced up Ilirea’s arm, sitting on her shoulder. She nuzzled her face, humming, and settled as Ilirea started walking away from Ceris, deeper into the forest.

Taglist:  @raiikuiii @gilded-moon @thebluemoonwolf @overlordspirit18 @nightsshadow1 

[startrekandwars]

Trusting Fate

Word Count: 2200

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself at odds with a young Sith Apprentice as they both share a single goal- Get off the planet alive.

Tags: N/A

AN: Written for @celebrate-the-clone-wars prompt an Unlikely Team

Today could not get any stranger for Obi-Wan Kenobi. So far today he has been labeled as a criminal (which is fair seeing as how he managed to crash into a separatist planet and was now on the run), almost blown up twice (again, completely reasonable considering where he is), and now he is being rescued by a sith apprentice. "Come on, old man, unless you'd rather die here. To which case, stay in that alleyway. I don't care." Oh, and that apprentice? She only saved him after attempting to assassinate a Separatist Senator. For reasons that escape him.

"Because you know your way around better than I do?" He didn't appreciate her tone of voice. This girl was maybe 16 years old, deep red hair, amber eyes, and a tattoo that was on her forehead down the left side of her face and her chin, not to mention on both of her shoulders. The scar on the right side of her face likely ruined the matching side of the tattoo. "Why are you even helping me, young one?"

"Because you watched me almost assassinate someone. I need to keep an eye on my only living witness." She countered, glancing back on him before using the force to pull him into the different alley. "Force you move too slowly. And talk a lot." 

Obi-Wan stumbled, looking down at the girl, "And you're in a hurry. And afraid." He didn't even need the force to recognize she's scared. She's moving more like she's running from something. "You aren't being trained by the Count, so who is your master?"

The girl stopped, "None of your business, Jedi. Look do you want to get off this force forsaken rock or do you want to die here? I know I would rather get off this rock."

"Fine. But we're going to get off of this 'Force forsaken rock' my way." Obi-Wan countered, now standing next to her. "How well do you know Separatist protocol?"

"Better than you, clearly. I could get off just by showing my lightsaber to the right people. Or taking down the droids if I wanted to." She countered, looking at him. "Why should we do this your way?"

The older Jedi put his hand on her shoulder, "Because something tells me you would rather go anywhere else other than home, and you didn't kill two people today, which tells me that you doubt your master's teachings. So if you want a chance to leave him, you also have to play by a different rule book."

She frowned before sighing, releasing her hair from the ponytail to hide most of the tattoos on her face. "Fine. We'll try things your way. But if you get us captured, we're breaking out my way. What do you want to know about Separatist protocol?"

"How do officers bring in prisoners of war? Outside of dead." Obi-Wan watched as a guard walked past them, completely ignoring their existence, "How are you currently hiding us?"

"With the force. I'm making them think they've already looked over here and saw nothing. Their minds are easy to manipulate like that since they don't really care." She answered, looking at him and then following his gaze. "You aren't serious."

He offered her a smile, "It will be fine, young one. Besides, I'm sure you're cold not wearing any sleeves." He answered, walking out of the alleyway. "Oh excuse me officer! It's my daughter, she's been attacked!" The moment the guard turned, Obi-Wan knocked him out and dragged her into their alley. 

"I Am Not Your Daughter!" Sari hissed, looking at him. "My name is Sari." She started to take the parts of the guard's uniform that she would need to pass herself off as an officer. "And you're Obi-Wan Kenobi so you should really be careful. A lot of people want you very very dead. I still haven't made up my mind on whether or not I want to kill you."

"Would you rather I call you my niece or ward then?" He asked, watching her put on the jacket over her current tank top. In fact, most of her outfit easily turned into guard clothes. "Did you sneak onto this world as a guard? Why would a sith apprentice have to sneak onto the planet? Can't you just fly there?"

She looked at him, now disguised, "You're a jedi, can't you just mind trick yourself out of trouble instead of getting labeled a criminal and blown up? Twice- might I add. You got blown up twice." She looked at him and frowned more. "So what's the move, Jedi? Are you now going to become my commanding officer?"

"No, I'm going to be your prisoner, and we're going to steal a ship. Don't worry, I have a good feeling about this plan." He offered her what should have been a reassuring smile.

"Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this plan?" She only half muttered that, but she found some handcuffs and put them on Obi-Wan. "Why do you trust me not to kill you or turn you over?"

"The same reason your trusted me enough to try to save me. To use your words, we both want to get off this 'Force forsaken rock.' And you likely have a bad feeling because you're not used to doing good things. It will be fine, Sari." Obi-Wan countered, leaving the alleyway with Sari right behind him.

He was fairly certain she just rolled her eyes again, "Bad feelings are normally bad because something is going to go wrong. Move it prisoner." She kept her eyes looking forward, just over his shoulder. 

"You're on alert- why?"

Instead of an answer, she just shoved his shoulder, "Don't ask questions about things that don't concern you, prisoner. The mistress wants you transferred to a different prison district today and that's all you need to know." By shoving him, his head ended up looking down at the ground, avoiding it being seen well by a guard they were walking past. "Don't pretend you know me- we're not friends."

"No, we're not," Obi-Wan answered slowly. He was trusting her to lead them to a shipyard. Which he could see she was. "I take it you have a plan?"

At that, she walked in front of him, waving her hand in front of a guard "You're going to let me take a ship with weapons and a hyperdrive to transport the prisoner." 

"I'm... going to let you take a ship with weapons and a hyperdrive." The guard said slowly.

"You're going to call in that I have clearance to use this ship and that everything checks out." She waved her hand again. Obi-Wan had to admit it was fairly impressive. Mind tricks are not an easy thing to master.

"I'm going to call in that you have clearance to use this ship and that everything checks out." The guard repeated. Then the guard used the communicator, "This is Vizila- there's going to be a ship leaving with a prisoner. Everything checks out."

Sari just nudged Obi-Wan forward towards the ship, and he had to admit. This worked better with her than it ever would have with Anakin. She's focused, but he can still sense her fear. Something scares her more than being trapped here. Once she closed the hatch, she took off the handcuffs. "Okay, Jedi. My way would have ended in bodies and so far no one has died today. Your move."

"Of course. Now, we follow protocol and leave the system. Once we're far enough away, I'll contact the fleet so they don't shoot us down and get us stuck on another planet. You... do know how to fly one of these right?"

She groaned and walked towards the cockpit. "Yeah, I do. what- you don't?"

"Oh I could learn, but I don't like flying. I have a feeling you won't be comforted by me flying anyways." Obi-Wan countered gently, sitting down in the seat next to her. "Lead the way, Sari." 

She looked over at him and then nodded a little bit, getting the ship out of the hangar easily. Once they were in orbit, she finally started to relax some. The tension that she kept in her shoulders left some. "You have a direction to head towards, Master Kenobi?"

"I do, set coordinates to the outer rim. That's where my fleet is." Obi-Wan answered, removing his lightsaber from his belt and putting it in the chair. "I'm going to contact my fleet now. "Thank you, Apprentice Sari."

She didn't look away from the controls. "Sari Nebi. My full name is Sari Nebi. And this wouldn't be happening without you, Master Kenobi... or my ability to mind trick guards."

"Of course," he smiled a little bit and walked towards the holoprojector, setting the frequency to the channel he normally uses. "Admiral Yularen, this is General Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm on my way to rendezvous with the fleet now, I got a little... delayed."

"Well it's a good thing you're on your way master, I was starting to get worried," Anakin spoke up, walking into frame. "You're not in your fighter though.'

"No I had a bit of a situation, but I can assure you, it's being handled quite expertly. When I arrive, I'll have to contact the council immediately."

"What do you mean it's being handled expertly?" Apparently, Ahsoka was also in the room and had also walked into frame.

"It means Obi-Wan picked up a stray," Anakin answered. "Are you sure that's wise, master?"

The older Jedi sighed, "I did not pick up a stray, she actually picked me up. And yes, I'm sure." Obi-Wan glanced back towards the cockpit where Sari was now... meditating. That's the first time he's realized that she was calm in the force. Not angry, not afraid, but at peace. "I never understood my master's reasons for bringing you to the temple until now, Anakin. I am just as certain about her as he was about you. Her place is among the Jedi, if that's her wish."

Anakin opened his mouth and closed it again, "You're serious about this. You actually are seriously thinking about doing this. You know if they agree, and that's a big if, they'll make you train her."

"She already has some training in the force, and I have a suspicion about that. It's not like she doesn't know how to use the force at all. She's very skilled and reminds me a lot of you, Anakin. You'll see when you meet her." With that, Obi-Wan hung up and walked back to the cockpit, carefully sitting back down in his chair. 

"So are we not going to get shot at?" She didn't open her eyes, she didn't have to. 

"We won't. There will be a specific landing zone for us when we get there, Sari." He looked at his lightsaber and then took a closer look at her's. The style was influenced by the sith, there was no doubt about that, but it was also reminiscent of Qui-Gon Jinn's. He would know, considering he used his master's lightsaber for a while and considering that Matahd actively uses a copy of the hilt. While her version was warped, and definitively unique to her, the fundamentals were there. "Sari, I don't know what or who you want to run from, but I can offer you a place to run to. If you would be agreeable, I could teach you how to be a Jedi- like your master's master.

That got her to open her eyes. The amber seemed to be duller like it wasn't always her eye color. "How did you figure that out?"

"Your lightsaber is reminiscent of my master's... Xanatos is your master, isn't he? I've encountered him before." Obi-Wan was picking his words carefully. He had a feeling just because she was young doesn't mean he would beat her in a fight. 

She sighed a little bit, "Yeah okay. He was my Master... but I don't want to stay with him." She looked out of the cockpit, at the stars streaming past. "Maybe you're rubbing off on my but I think... I think I'm meant for something more... Would your council let you train me."

"It would not be unprecedented, but it would be difficult for you. You would have to constantly prove that you were not falling back to the Darkside," Obi-Wan gently put his hand on her shoulder, "But, I have a feeling one day, if you're willing, you'll be an excellent Jedi."

She was quiet for a moment before turning to look at him, "Alright. I'm in. But that also means you're stuck with me, Master Kenobi."

"I would not have it any other way, my young padawan." He smiled as they dropped out of hyperspace.

"General Kenobi, landing bay six has been cleared for you." Admiral Yularen's voice rang over his comms. "Welcome home, Sir."

"It is good to be home," Obi-Wan answered, not removing his hand. "It is very good to be home."

[thedeevirus]

Do you think that you could possibly make a part two of that au where Ed is a Masseuse and Oswald is one of his clients if that's alright?

Hope you enjoy it :)

WARNING: NSFW!

Added to NYGMOBBLEPOT FICLETS on AO3

***

‘Mr Penguin!’

‘Hello Ed. Sorry to startle you’.

‘It’s fine. It’s so good to see you. I thought you might not be coming’.

‘If it’s inconvenient I can-‘

‘No! No, of course not. I kept the slot open. Just in case’.

‘I would never miss our appointment’, Oswald said, his warm smile turning regretful, ‘Especially after last time’.

Ed licked his dry lips. He had thought of little else in the week between. At the last appointment, Oswald and he had kissed for the first time. Haltingly at first but then deeper, more desperately. 

Ed had been shocked, pleasantly so, at Oswald’s eagerness and had gladly surrendered to the assault on his mouth. When Oswald’s sharp teeth had latched onto his lower lip he had cried out, in surprise at the sudden pain but also in at the electrifying pulse it sent racing down his spine to the pit of his stomach. 

But Oswald, seeing the blood on Ed’s lip, had begun babbling apologies. He had halted for just a moment to retrieve his discarded towel and his clothes before running (as much as his bad leg would allow) for the dressing room.

Ed had been too startled to go after him. He had pressed a fingertip to his lip and shuddered at the red brightness that stained it. It was only when he had heard Oswald slam the front door to his parlour that he had realised he was rock hard.

‘Oswald, Mr Penguin, I am so sorry if I overstepped or-‘

Oswald held up a hand and Ed stopped talking.

‘Please,don’t. I’m the one who should apologise for running out. It was nothing you did.I was actually…’ He paused to chuckle fondly. ‘I really liked what you did. It-it was me’.

Oswald cleared his throat and tossed his head.

‘My inexperience’, he finished with a peculiar air of sad defiance.

Ed placed the candle snuffer he had been fiddling with on the table, suddenly conscious of the movement in the silence. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of the nose and crossed his arms.

‘Do you want us to go back to strictly professional terms?’ he asked.

Oswald shook his head as he stepped forward. Ed couldn’t help but mirror the movement.His hands fell to his sides.

‘I don’t know what I want’, Oswald mused, ‘I mean, I know’. He reached for Ed’s hand and squeezed. ‘I’m just not sure I’m…ready’.

Ed squeezed back in an attempt at reassurance but Oswald winced at the pressure. Ed looked down and noted Oswald’s bruised knuckles. He used his other hand to rub them placatingly and Oswald smiled in gratitude.

‘I understand’, Ed said, ‘It’s okay’.

Oswald wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the floor and his shoulders were rounded. He seemed to be on the verge of crumpling in on himself.

‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Ed asked.

Oswald sniffed loudly and when he spoke his voice was trembling.

‘Yes.I’m fine. Really. I just didn’t expect you to be so kind about it but I should have’.

Ed offered him a tissue from a nearby box. Oswald blew his nose loudly. Ed stifled a laugh at the comical sound, conscious that Oswald may take it as mockery.

‘To be honest, this is a first for me too’, he said, ‘Up until last week I thought I was straight!’

He laughed; borderline hysterically. After a full week of trying to articulate his revelation, he had just blurted it out! He bit his tongue hastily. This was not about him. He was trying to put Oswald at ease!

‘We’ll figure things out together if you like?’ Ed offered.

Oswald’s smile lit up his pale face, his watery eyes shining.

‘Yes.I would like that’, he replied, discarding the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket.

‘Hows about we start with a nice, relaxing massage session? It’ll help us think and I ordered some new candles from Isley Infusions’.

He held up the box excitedly. Oswald obligingly raised an eyebrow at the impressive range.

‘I thought they only did teas?’ he said, examining the label of an alarmingly pink specimen.

‘They’re branching out’, Ed said, ‘ No pun intended’.

He put the box down and showed Oswald one of the lit candles. It was mint green with dried leaves curling though the waxy surface. He indicated the translucent liquid pooling at the base.

‘These are made of soy bean, see? Oil not wax. I ordered this one for you because the vitamin E in reduces scarring and moisturises the skin’.

Ed held up a bowl with a different fragranced oil in it. Oswald inhaled deeply and sighed in pleasure at the spicy scent.

‘It smells like Autumn’.

‘Ginger and cinnamon blend. Just the thing to warm you up on a day like this’.

‘How do you use them?’ Oswald asked, eyes flicking to the lit candles burning on the countertop.

‘Don’t worry.  I prepared this well in advance. Nice and lukewarm’.

Ed swirled his finger in the oil to demonstrate the temperature.

‘I’m going to start at the base of your foot and work up from there, okay?’

‘Sounds good’, Oswald nodded, tapping his knee with a wince, ‘It has been clicking lately’.

Ed was gratified to see Oswald disrobe without a hint of self-consciousness though he couldn’t ignore the slight pang of disappointment when Oswald wrapped a clean towel around his waist for modesty. Oswald sat on the bench and Ed knelt down. He rubbed his palms together, coating them with oil then began to rub Oswald’s heel. Oswald sighed approvingly, flexing his toes at the warm,soothing sensation.  

Once he had finished coating Oswald’s feet, Ed moved gradually up the leg until he reached the knees. He focused on the bad one first, slathering it with the oil.Oswald’s head was back, his eyes closed contentedly. His eyelids crinkled and his brow furrowed slightly as Ed rubbed the oil into the various bumps and creases of the knee. He was careful to keep the pressure consistent, to keep the pain as a dull ache rather than spikes of varying severity. Once satisfied the knee had been treated accordingly, Ed stood and moved behind Oswald, starting to work on his shoulders.

‘What happened to your hands?’ Ed asked.

‘Normal day at the office’, Oswald said drily.

‘Explains the tension in the shoulders’, Ed remarked.

‘I’d never wanted to kiss anyone before’, Oswald mused, flexing and unflexing his fingers restlessly.

‘Never?’

‘You think it’s weird’.

‘I’m actually flattered’.

‘I didn’t realise it would feel like that. Does it always feel like that?’

Ed shrugged.

‘Depends who you’re kissing’, he said.

‘Have you kissed before?’

Ed smiled wryly.

‘I thought I had’.

‘I wanted more. But I had no idea how to go further even though I wanted to. So, Iran away. I’ve never felt like that before. I’m sorry I left the way I did’.

‘I was sorry you left too’.

‘It feels so good to let my guard down that it makes me nervous. This feeling is wonderful but it’s terrifying’.

Ed looked down and swallowed. Oswald’s pale eyes were open now. They were wide, like a questioning child’s. They reflected the golden light of the candles around them.

‘Am I making any sense?’ Oswald asked quietly.

Ed rested his hands on Oswald’s shoulders and squeezed gently. Oswald blinked and Ed saw his lashes were wet. Ed moved around, facing Oswald’s seat.

‘I’ll make sure you won’t regret letting your guard down’, Ed said, undoing his shirt, ‘I promise’.

‘What are you doing?’ Oswald whispered, eyes transfixed on the movement of Ed’s long fingers.

‘You’ve never seen me naked’, Ed said, halting, ‘Would you like to?’

Oswald rose and Ed watched him balance himself on his unsteady leg. His slick flesh shimmered in the light as he undid the knot of his towel.

‘Only if I can join you’, Oswald replied, the towel falling to the floor.

Ed smiled as he saw Oswald was already at half mast.

‘Would you like to give me a hand?’ Ed asked, spreading his arms invitingly.

Oswald approached slowly. Ed kept still despite his impatience. His breath hitched as Oswald took hold of his shirt and began to unbutton it. His movements were hesitant and his mouth was open, top teeth peeking over the bottom lip, as if he couldn’t believe what he was doing. Ed felt his heart begin to race. How could a man of such brutality be so gentle? Ed had never felt so treasured and couldn’t suppress a longing moan as he felt himself literally swelling under the attention.

Oswald reached up and removed Ed’s glasses as he undid the last shirt button. Ed blinked in surprise and Oswald marvelled at the rich, brown irises. The candlelight was yellow flecks in the dark depths, lighting them up from within.Oswald felt himself becoming lost in the amber, wolf-like depths and felt his tenuous grasp on his self-control slipping. Ed’s eyes glimmered and Oswald smirked as he read the hunger in that honeyed gaze.

Ed couldn’t resist any longer. Oswald’s glass like eyes filled his vision as he closed his own eyes and kissed him. He gasped as Oswald tore off his shirt and he fumbled with his fly as Oswald threw his arms around Ed’s neck. Ed inhaled deeply, savouring the spicy scent of the oil on Oswald’s goose pimpled skin mingling with the musk in the air.

The kiss was hot and heavy, spurred on to newer, rougher heights as both men’s hands explored each other, fingertips and nails digging into each other’s soft skin with relish. Oswald nipped at Ed’s lips again (more carefully this time) and Ed opened wide, eyelids fluttering as Oswald’s tongue explored every inch of his mouth. After a few, frenzied moments, they both broke away, panting heavily.

‘There’s something else that I’ve heard is rich in vitamins’, Ed said breathlessly,stepping out of his remaining clothing.

He knelt down and gently began to open Oswald’s legs further but stopped when he felt Oswald cup his face with both hands.

‘Ed, I don’t think I…‘

He trailed off but Ed knew what he meant. He immediately got to his feet and kissed Oswald’s forehead.

‘It’s okay’, he said gently, ‘We don’t have to. I promise it’s okay’.

He was interrupted by the sudden sensation of Oswald’s fingers wrapping around his cock.

‘It’snot fair you always have to do all the work’, Oswald said with a cheeky raise of an eyebrow.

Ed laughed. Oswald was still Oswald even when he seemed vulnerable.

‘This isn’t work. Trust me’.

‘I do’.

Ed felt Oswald’s hand guide his own downwards until it was wrapped around Oswald’s cock.

‘I trust you’, Oswald finished, his cheeks adorably ruddy as he kissed Ed again.

Their bodies drew closer as their tongues entwined until they were flush. Both men gasped at the incredible warmth and sensation of their cocks rubbing together. They began to pump in unison, mirroring each other’s movements. They each fancied they could hear the other’s thundering heartbeat as the pressure began to build; a perfect storm of bliss born of swirling thumbs and lashing tongues. They clutched at each other with their free hands, hips bucking as they both plummeted over the edge of exquisite ecstasy, the breath of their strangled cries extinguishing several of the candles surrounding them.

In the ensuing gloom, they shuddered and huffed, fingers coated and smiles wide as they gazed at each other, awash with pleasure in the cooling air.

‘Shower?’ Ed offered.

Oswald licked a long vein on Ed’s neck, making him whimper.

‘Shower’, Oswald accepted.

[pompadorkery]

um.. can we get the continuation to the angelo and valak lore machonachos just posted?

:3Sooo~We left off here~With Angelo getting a call from Heaven itself. Before anything can be done about Valak, Angelo figures he’d better go and see what Heaven wants. He doesn’t need more trouble while he’s trying to save his husband, so he wants to take care of it. Plus, duty and all that. He’s a responsible guy. He’s not gonna shirk his duties and obligations. So, he goes on up to Heaven. He’s unsure of what’s in store for him. Did they find out about him and Valak? Are they going to punish him further? Is this the end for him? He’s cautious, finding himself surrounded by the archangels. Gabriel seems a little peeved, but when isn’t he? It’s Michael who speaks. He praises Angelo for his good work in defending when the demons rose up and began attacking humans. He saved countless human lives, and possibly halted a would-be demonic uprising.(Luckily, it seems as if Heaven is unaware as to why the demons attacked. Aka: they don’t know that the demons were trying to capture Angelo whilst Valak and Ahriman were fighting.)While Michael is giving Angelo high regards and praising him, Gabriel just keeps looking angrier and angrier. Finally, at the end of it, Michael offers Angelo something. He offers him his powers back. The full extent. And just to really sweeten the offer, Angelo is allowed to feel the power surging back into him.

He’s surrounded by a glowing light, his wings sprout feathers back to their full size, his hair falls over his shoulders, his eyes lose their glassy dead look and become a beautiful blue once again, and the seal on his neck fades to merely a thin scar. He’s allowed to gaze upon himself in a mirror, and honestly, in that moment, the offer is extremely tempting. He’s beautiful again. He’s powerful again. He can fly  again. He’s told that his duties on Earth could be relinquished, and he could return to being a Dominion. Of course, he’d have to earn back everyone’s trust, and he’d still be monitored, but he can be his true self again. It’s the hesitation that sets Gabriel off. He’s already annoyed that everyone is being so merciful to someone he deems unworthy. He chides Angelo for not accepting this gracious offer immediately. Why is he hesitating? Why wouldn’t he jump at the chance to be a Dominion again and regain his respect amongst the other angels in Heaven?When Angelo flat out refuses, it confuses the other archangels. They question why he wouldn’t want this, and if he doesn’t accept, the opportunity won’t be given to him again. He’ll have to live out the rest of his existence on Earth doing the same work he’d been doing for the past 40+ years. He’d have no chance to return to his former glory. He doesn’t say much, only that he’s content with his life in the land of the living. He’s fine living the way he does, and that one good deed doesn’t forgive his past transgressions. Aaand, that he has his own reasons for wanting to stay. Michael strips his power away. Gabriel scoffs and mumbles to himself, wondering why Angelo would refuse such an offer, how he’s ungrateful, all that. Angelo asks if he can leave. And Michael says yes, and that Heaven only needs him to continue his work among the humans, but besides financial support, Heaven really won’t have anything to do with him anymore. As Angelo begins to leave, and Gabriel makes snide comments, Angelo then asks, “So… we are done here?”After receiving confirmation, that yes, they are done. Angelo turns and decks Gabriel right in the face, knocking him back and few feet. Gabriel of course, whines and complains, but Angelo simply leaves and goes back home to continue on with the plans of getting Valak back. –To get Valak back, he needs a way to coax Kocell back. He’s an angel, he can’t just waltz down into Hell. He’s very unsure of what he’s supposed to do to get in contact with her. But, the answer comes to him unexpectedly. As if by a stroke of luck, Angelo spots a demon wandering around in human form. The demon isn’t really bothering anyone, and just seems like they’re just kinda living amongst humans like Valak did. So, of course, Angelo stomps right over to them and begins harassing them, grabbing them by the shirt and getting up in their face, telling them that he needs to get in contact with someone. He needs the demon to send a message for him. He needs the demon to tell Kocell that he wants a rematch. He wants to face off with her again. He gives the demon a specific time and place he wants to meet, and tells them to relay the message. There’s a bit of threatening on Angelo’s part to made sure that the demon does as it’s told. After that, it’s just a waiting game. Angelo tells Nevaeh that the plan is in motion. He’s nervous. Scared even. He doesn’t want to hurt Valak. But, whatever Kocell had done to him… that wasn’t his Valak. That was some sort of beast. Angelo and the girls make their preparations. They’re ready by the time Kocell shows up again. She’s boastful and showy as always, and makes a big deal of making her entrance with Valak in tow, looking just as feral as before. They’re a good distance away from the incomplete salt circles, so Kocell won’t notice them. It’s risky, but Angelo needs to lure the two demons to the circles. He needs to get Valak to chase him down again. Turning on his heel and pushing off with a powerful flap of his wings, Angelo lunges forward and away from Valak, coaxing him to chase after him. He just has to use his own legs to try and outrun Valak until he gets him to the circle. He can’t risk riding Heaven’s Bounty and disrupting the salt circles. He has to do this himself. He also can’t be too far ahead of Valak, because he doesn’t want him to notice the salt circle ahead of time.(Also, if anything went bad, he didn’t want Heaven’s Bounty to get hurt, because she would most definitely try to protect him if Valak attacked)He’s running as fast as his legs will take him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Valak is behind him. Meanwhile, Kocell is following them, eager to see how her little pet does. She wants to watch. Unfortunately for her, she’s paying so much attention to Valak and Angelo, that she doesn’t bother to look down to her feet and to notice that she’s walked right into a salt circle. She’s literally stepped right into their trap. Nevaeh quickly rushes out and completes the circle, trapping Kocell inside. It’s a very intricate circle, it needs to be complex to hold the power of a demon general. Nevaeh doesn’t want Amber Lee anywhere near Kocell.  Plus, Amber Lee can’t see Kocell or Valak when they’re in their demon forms. Kocell was caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that Angelo would team up with humans of all things. Nevaeh immediately starts reading off Psalms that will banish Kocell back to the 9th circle of Hell. Amber Lee has poked her head out once she sees Nevaeh jumping into action, she doesn’t know if it’s time for her to act yet. Valak definitely noticed when Kocell got trapped. She’s definitely screeching and making a bunch of noise. Valak turns his attention to her, ready to save his mistress. However, Amber Lee happens to be right in his path. And, obviously, Valak would have no problem completely eviscerating her to get to Kocell. Amber Lee has no idea that she’s right in the way. She’s ready to close up the other circle, but doesn’t know when. She’s unaware of the demon ready to bulldoze her down. Angelo panics, seeing that Valak’s attention is off of him, and that Amber Lee is in danger.With no other choice, he materializes his whip. He cracks it towards Valak and snares his wrist, tugging him forward and dragging him down into the salt circle intended for him. He holds him there and gives Amber Lee the signal to close off the circle. The moment the circle is closed, Angelo releases Valak from the whip. The injury seems to be searing and smoking, the whip leaving a pretty nasty burn on Valak’s skin.

He’s, of course, snarling and nearly foaming at the mouth, looking on as Nevaeh finishes reading the passages and exorcises Kocell back to Hell. The ground opens up, and with a scream, Kocell is plummeted back to the very bottom of Hell, as if there was a weight around her ankle dragging her down. Needless to say… she’s pissed. Once the ground closes back up and Kocell is nowhere to be seen, attention turns to Valak.Angelo had hoped that exorcising Kocell would make Valak return to normal… but it’s not the case. He’s banging and pounding at the invisible barrier encasing him in the circle. He’s still the same. Still feral. Still wild. They restrain him with chains made of Holy Gold, while Nevaeh recites incantations to keep him settled while they get him back to Angelo’s apartment(luckily humans can’t see any of this going down).And once they get him to Angelo’s place, they clear a room to put him in, and restrain him with even more chains. They place a large salt circle around the room to keep him imprisoned. And a good spritzing of holy water doesn’t hurt either. Angelo can’t stay in contact with the Holy Gold for too long, and after having to drag Valak all the way back home, he can’t even really be with him. He has to keep him locked away in that room.(He had to physically touch the gold while locking Valak up, which is much worse than simply being in the presence of the Holy Gold. He can be in the presence of it alot longer than he can be touching it. And he’s already done too much touching for the day.)So. He just has to lock Valak in the room and then go to sit with the girls. Angelo’s mood is notably… down. He has his husband back, but at what cost?

[webcricket]

Looking Glass

Chapter 23 - Begin the Begin

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1393

Summary: Lucifer is a dick. Castiel has some trust issues; fortunately, he also has the reader. With the rift closed, everyone lets loose back at the bunker.

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“Careful there – last step’s a doozy.” Cementing a callous grip around your bicep to prop up the feet faltering on the final bus stair as you flounder into his looming person, Lucifer’s unkindly grin-framed chuckle singes your cheek. He resists your off-balance efforts to wriggle away, fixing his fingers further into the denim fabric of your jacket and the bruisingly insulted flesh below until a panged whimper rouses in your throat and unshed tears blear your vision. The sound of suffering sparks a ring of red round the merciless pitch of his pupils.

Boot having missed the step as though it were a mere mirage of solidity, dazed both by the clumsy landing jolting up your spine to slam together teeth and the sulphur tinge suffusing his breath, you can’t tell if you were accidentally shoved from behind by another refugee eager to exit, or if the fall is some devilish retribution for the ill-advised slap of his head earlier.

You immediately regretted the action given the oddly cool effect on his demeanor and Cas’ worry-wrought glance at you, the crevicing of his brow seeming to entreat why. You know angels – all angels – represent a threat, with archangels’ whims and propensity to power trip as stand ins for God plying the worst type of peril, but the escape from this world into that other where everything is different, the connection you share with Cas and the rawness of his reciprocated feelings, these experiences dulled the gravity of danger, lessened your wariness, and subdued the common sense required to contain a stupid reflex to swat the devil to stop his incessant rambling and chaotic driving like the buzz of an irritating fly – a mistake of being too familiar. Regardless of the how of the tumble, no sentiment of thanks stirs on your tongue for the rudely firm rescue.

Hearing the tumult, rift-bent regard revolving to check on you, Cas bristles; a protective gleam of blue ignites in his irises when he sees Lucifer’s coarse clasp. Unhesitating to sacrifice himself in your defense, he wedges a shielding arm into the sliver of space separating you and flicks the angel blade into his inflexible fist. “Let. Her. Go,” he growls, cadence clipped, through the set of his jaw. Shoulders squaring, wings bereft of their full-feathered glory – somehow more inimitable in menace given the scarcity of plumes and jagged scars illustrating the seraph’s tenacity for surviving defeat to rise again and again – swish up and out, shadowing out the sun-filtered sky behind in a starkly silhouetted show of warning.

Brown crusts of leaves churn in a tornadic uprising around you, giving the distinct impression of a gale wind driving downward from above and betraying the divine origin of the upheaval in the electric tingle charging the air.

Not wanting to risk spoiling his own escape and father-son reunion with a confrontation over an inconsequential human, Lucifer’s grasp loosens; palm lifting, the digits splay in appeasement and move to scratch through his hay-hued hair as though nothing untoward happened. “Just sayin,’ it’d be a real shame to stumble this close to safety.” It’s uncertain whether he’s referring to you, or administering the advice aloud to himself; he shrugs, clears his nose with a disinterested sniff, and shoves the offending deeper into the dirty blond tufts.

Castiel’s wings shudder, reluctantly rumple and withdraw, skeptical in their rustling retreat of the devil’s duplicity.

You touch trembling fingers to your angel’s balled fist, tender trace of the tips over his knuckles and tucking of them into the tractable palm assuring him you’re okay.

“Cas, Ketch – show ‘em how it’s done!” The urgency deepening Dean’s directive to demonstrate the leap between worlds for the others to follow leaves no time for further speculation or contests of celestial machismo.

Locking his hand fast around your wrist, Cas leads you toward the wavering bolt of energy, nudging you ahead by the waist as you near.

“Okay then, catch you two on the other side.” Lucifer issues a promissory salute and inserts himself into the horde of apocalypse deportees – patience isn’t a virtue in his vocabulary, but sometimes a cat must wait for the opportune moment to pounce on an unwitting mouse.

The last either of you sees of his sinister smirk before being engulfed in the rift’s golden glow, Sam halts him mid-stride with the butt of a rifle, and whatever words the Winchester utters blunt the edges of his engraved smugness.

* * * * *

The celebratory atmosphere of the bunker thrills with conversation, clinking of liquor laden glassware, and the soft metal pop and fizz of beer bottles opened. Arms looped round his waist, you snuggle the seraph listening to Dean relate the detail of Gabriel’s dauntless and unselfish change of heart to go tête-à-tête with Michael in a bid to buy time. Cas rests a palm over your shoulder, fingertips absent-mindedly stretched in seeking out the exposed rim of a rose-flushed spot near your collarbone, skin gilded with a mark of passion he place there hours ago and a world away.

Sam approaches, thick amber whiskey sloshing in his glass as he scales the steps.

Tongue dryly swiping over your teeth, you’re reminded it’s been over a day since you properly ate or drank anything substantial. You sneak a caress beneath Cas’ suit coat, tickling his torso through the white cotton of his dress shirt to garner his attention. Peering up into his inquiring blues, you ask, “Babe, you want a beer?”

The term of endearment curls up the pouting corners of his pink mouth in fondness, brightening the solemnity veiling his aspect as he processes the loss of Gabe. He wags his chin to indicate no, missing the warmth of your body as he watches you wander into the map room where the beverages sit by the case upon the table.

Once you’re beyond earshot, he fetters his focus to Dean. What he’s longing for is good news, not bad. “And what about Lucifer?” Ever since the bus, he’s been unable to shake the nagging apprehension founded in the archangel’s sudden silence in response to your rebuke. When the devil isn’t deluging the air with snake-tongued syllables, he’s seething, and that kind of meditative thinking means one thing – trouble. He felt immense relief to witness the rift close without Lucifer reentering this world, yet doubt lingers, darkening the lightness of manifest victory.

“Sam handled it,” Dean indicates his brother with a nod.

Cas looks to Sam for confirmation, searches his fatigue-pallid and unsmiling face for decidedly absent tell-tale signs of a long-awaited cathartic triumph.

The younger Winchester’s conflict-infused hazels briefly meet the heavenly blue and break off with a nebulous bob of the head to stare into the whisky.

The angel determines the silence to mean that whatever ultimately happened remains unknown because when Sam stepped through the rift, Lucifer was left alive. Why – when they had the chance to kill him after he was wounded by Michael – is beyond the Cas’ comprehension. His mouth molds to form the word what, as in, ‘What happened?!’ Less question, more exclamation.

“And hell, buddy,” –Dean claps his friend on the back, so hard Cas shuffles his weight foot to foot to reset his wobbling knees– “you came through with a personal win, too. You got the girl!” The hunter means it, he’s happy for him; he’s also distracting from Sam’s palpable distress by keeping the angel from probing for a deeper explanation.

Your laugh – easy and relaxed, unburdened and free of fear – as you exchange a few words with one of the refugees, the young woman, Maggie, they travelled through the vampire infested tunnels with, strikes Cas’ perception through Dean’s posturing for positivity. Finding you across the room, the foreboding flees from his features to mirror your merriment when you sense the heat of his gaze and flash him a smile.

Dean’s right, he realizes – he does have you; the angel simply isn’t used to trusting anything in life save the eventuality of failure. Exhaling his unease in a purgative sigh, he breathes in the bolstering recognition of the good winding her way through the throng of people toward him as Bobby calls for a speech, thanking Sam and Dean, and welcoming them to the family as Cas welcomes you into his arms, pressing you to his vessel’s steadily drumming heart.

Next: Ch. 24 - Heaven is a Place on Earth

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Leaving Our Home (2/10)

WC: 1304

Peter does not bother to put away the ingredients for the cake they never wound up making. While Mike destroys their phones just in case anything incriminating may be left on them, Peter takes the big backpack his father used to use for camping and stuffs it with clothes, deodorant, toothbrushes, any essentials he can think of. He even searches at the bottom of one of his father’s dresser drawers for the wad of cash he knows is there. Everything they can get, they’ll need if they want to survive out there until they can get far away and find jobs. Happiness feels just around the bend.

According to the clock, their parents will be home in just under an hour, so they need to get far away, and fast. Without a car, their best bet is to get out of the residentials and into a busy area where they can disappear. If they’re lucky, find safety for the night at least. Any homeless shelter is out of the question because of the amount of people that will be searching for them. A motel would be far too expensive. They might just sit in a 24 hour fast food restaurant all night and catch up on sleep during the day, when it’s safer.

He returns to the kitchen when he finishes packing to see Mike breaking his watch with the handle of one of the knives out of the block. He’s worn it so long, he has a tan line. The saddest part of this all, however, is that Peter doesn’t have to ask why. Since his father bought it for him, the likelihood of it having a tracker is near one hundred percent.

“We can’t stay in the city more than a few days,” he points out, shielding himself from the shards of metal and glass with the backpack. “We’ll have to go somewhere else. Best bet is probably another big city so that we won’t get caught while we’re trying to figure out how to get back on our feet.”

Before he answers, Mike finishes destroying the watch and scrapes the pieces into the trash can with the dull side of the knife. “I know. We wait out the initial search, then we can get on a bus out of town. But I also want to know if maybe…”

He finishes in his head. Maybe there are more people like them, more people with powers. And maybe their fathers have information on who they might be. After all, one of the main things that made Mike start thinking of running away so long ago was the realization that the two of them had been made into this. All those shots as children, doctors’ appointments. They were becoming whatever they are now.

“There might be. But our safety comes first.”

Mike shrugs, his way of ending the conversation even if he disagrees. He picks up his backpack and gestures for Peter to do the same, because it’s time for them to get as far away as possible. With a large, deep, calming breath, he follows Mike out the back door. This is it for the well kept green grass and the iron rod fences that Peter boosts Mike up to so he can climb over them. The pass the backpacks through the bars, and then Peter just has to climb over it. Everything would be so much easier if he stayed where he is and let Mike run with their shared items. He could finish school. Go into baseball professionally.

Then the hope and apprehension rolling off of MIke digs into him and he bites the inside of his cheek as he hauls himself up and over to the hum of a car pulling up in one of their driveways. Time is up.

Peter shoulders his pack, grabs Mike’s arm, and starts pulling him down the sidewalk on the other side of the house. When the street is empty, he drags him across and then they’re suddenly running so they can get out of the immediate area. Wind in Peter’s face, the chill of the afternoon settling in, and Mike breathing heavily beside him. The soles of their shoes slap against pavement. Laughter bubbles up in his chest because they’re not just running, they’re flying.

All the way down four blocks, they finally duck into a library and bury themselves in stacks of books, all silence save for their heavy breathing. Mike reaches between them and takes his hand. As long as he can remember, Mike has had callouses, and new textures of burn scars are unfamiliar but expected at the same time. It feels like home.

“Do you think any of the books around here could give us clues about how we happened?” Mike asks.

Peter takes a moment to remember the last time he did research at a public library- never. Like most high schoolers, he does all of his research online. Right now, that might be more fruitful, but he can’t help thinking about the possibility of being tracked by their searches. Is that even possible? He may have just been watching too much TV. His dad has always said that he’s going to mix up reality and fiction eventually.

“Not sure. Would that be in the medical section, or like, the magic/ghosts/monsters section?”

Immediately, he’s hit with a wave of irritation, like Mike believes he’s making fun of him. Just as quickly as it arrived, however, it’s gone again, and both of them understand the severity of the situation. They’re never going to be normal again. Now that they’ve run away, even more so. Computer it is, if they want a fighting chance at learning anything.

They leave the relative safety between the bookshelves to sit side by side at the public use computers. Mike is quiet, but his brain is loud with curiosities and worries and plans for the future. Idyllic visions of a house their own somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with flowers and dogs and a fireplace. How warm and safe they have the potential to be if the could only get away from here.

Before long, all of it fades in favor of the text on some wikipedia article Mike found as the second result on google. So Peter turns his attention to his own computer to do some real research as well, not just snooping on Mike’s thoughts. He always feels guilty about it, but most of the time he can’t help it. Mike’s thoughts just float over Peter’s own, like waves lapping at the sand on the beach.

Just as he’s opening the browser, an alert pops up on the corner of his screen, and Mike’s, and every one in their row. An amber alert. Dread in the pit of his stomach, he reads the text to find his and Mike’s full names, as well as saying they were last seen at their school.

He grabs onto Mike’s thoughts, plants the urge to run, and stands up from the computer. They can’t stay in here right now, even though no pictures have been released yet. It’s only a matter of time. Best thing to do is find somewhere with no cameras and no one willing to talk to the police. In other words, a neighborhood known for crime.

It’s not a good idea, really. The two of them are young, they have cash on them, and Mike is laughably naive when it comes to kind seeming strangers. Still, that might be the only way to avoid being dragged back home kicking and screaming. He drops the idea into Mike’s head without meaning to. It feels the same as thinking it himself, and he doesn’t realize what he’s done until Mike takes his hand and tells him to lead the way.

[lexiseigneur]

Chapter twenty: Cannon fodder

Ao3

The black room in her head had failed her. Somehow the parts of her that had not been inside that room when she had changed were now forever linked to Quinlan. Shoving pieces of her new self behind that door now meant making a choice. Temporary peace without his light, or chaos with only his soul as support. Implicitly, she had expected to be able to use that ability as they faced the Master but it could not happen. Not only did she feel cold and empty when she attempted to push away her fear and pain, but Quinlan’s voice was also out of reach. Worse than that, it hurt him when she fled inside herself.

For twenty years that dark room had enabled her to live in serenity and not let the visions of her past submerge her. That was over. She would have to keep the new terrible memories on the surface. At least, Gordo’s dying gaze and the silence of his heart would not follow her for very long. Stop thinking like this. Lexi pushed that distasteful idea away and focused on the soothing knocking of Quinlan’s heart.

Downstairs, the man on guard opened the gate and a car drove inside the building. Gus and Raul had been the only men outside at this time so Lexi perked up at hearing the faint beating of three additional hearts.

“It seems Augustin has already found someone,” said Quinlan but he made no motion indicating that he wanted to meet that person.

Lexi, on the other hand, was both curious and worried. Part of her wanted to ensure that whoever this was had been brought aware of every implication.

“We should meet him,” she said.

“Her.”

Lexi focused on the sounds downstairs and yes…the new voice sounded briefly and was clearly feminine. She authorized herself a small grin. Her desire to meet the newcomer soared. Quinlan and Lexi climbed down the stairs to the lowest level which still smelled of the exhaust fumes from the SUV. Half a dozen men observed the woman with curiosity while she spoke with Gus and Raul. She was slim and with glossy black hair tied on her nape. Slanted eyes veered toward the Dhampir and widened. Her hand flew to Raul’s side where he kept his weapon. Before the man could react, she took the gun and directed its nuzzle at the couple.

Every man present except Raul pointed their own weapons at the woman and that reaction was sufficient to stop her from firing. Lexi looked around and even if it was uncomfortable to be threatened in that manner, she grinned. Even Arturo had the newcomer in his line of fire with that eternal scowl spreading on his face.

“Those are the two I told you about and I guarantee if we have to choose between them or you, they win,” said Gus, his gun an arm’s length from her head. He pulled the hammer back which clicked ominously. Her face still cold and her gaze fixated on both Dhampir, she returned the gun to Raul. He seemed as angry as he was embarrassed. Around the room, weapons returned to their holsters.

“This one is dangerous,” said Quinlan appreciatively.

Lexi nodded. For a human, she had moved with impressive speed. Her stance was efficient and her arm steady. There was absolutely no reason to worry about her safety because she was the opposite of the mild-mannered Brevil. Lexi had expected a poor soul, thrust into a desperate war almost against their will.

“Is she a goddamn ninja?” asked Jorge.

Antonio glared disapprovingly.

“Just ‘cause she Asian doesn’t make her a ninja you racist asshole.”

“Oh fuck you, I didn’t even see her move.”

The beginning of a large tattoo was visible under the collar of the newcomer’s shirt.

“Quinlan, Lexi,” said Gus while pointing at the Dhampir. “That’s Hinata.”

“Did you notice the emblems on her skin?” said Quinlan.

“I did. Why?”

Quinlan took a step forward and keeping his back very straight, bowed. Hinata bowed back so quickly, it appeared automatic. He spoke to the woman in a foreign language whose intonations were sharp and highlighted the rumbling of his voice. Lexi had no clue what he had just said but she did manage to recognize it was Japanese. Hinata answered and lifted her collar to hide the inked skin. Quinlan sneered.

“She is a princess. A daughter of the Japanese mob…I suspect she learned a few lessons in cruelty from them.”

“Why would she be with the Librarian?”

“I imagine her family sent her here to study. Those tattoos would make her an outcast in her home country.”

“So Hinata, what exactly did you do before the Fall?” asked Lexi.

“Theoretical economics,” she replied without any perceptible accent then detailed the female Dhampir rudely. Lexi uncovered her sharp teeth and growled which did not deter her. Amir pointed at the woman’s face where a thin scar spread from the side of her nose to the bottom of her chin.

“Samesies!” he said and gestured at his own scarred face.

Hinata gave him a look full of disgust.

“No,” she replied and turned her back on him.

His grin widened and he whispered in Raul’s ear, much too low for other humans to hear:

“I give her a week before she is in love with me.”

“You said I would be told the whole truth once I came here,” said Hinata to Gus.

“Yeah, we gonna do that. But for your information, you won’t be allowed to leave anymore.”

“I don’t care,” she said dismissively.

“You should, ‘cause if I decide we can’t trust you, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

She stared at him in mild surprise. The Sun Hunter held her gaze, severe and unwavering. Her thin lips stretched into a smirk.

“Alright, everyone stop gawking like morons and go do your jobs. Quinlan, Lex, let’s talk.”

They climbed up the stairs to the communal space and stood around the table.

“So, beside Hinata here we got no volunteers but the Librarian said he would look around for us. At least he seemed happy to get rid of this one.”

He pointed at Hinata who did not appear particularly concerned. Cold and focused, her eyes were still on the Dhampir. They barely shifted as the Sun Hunter told her of the Master and of their plans to kill him.

“I’m gonna have to kill Strigs when it happens, right?”

“Yeah, it might happen,” said Gus.

“Just tell me when and where.”

 On that day, Gus made it very clear that everyone should keep a close eye on their new crew member. Since the jamming devices were operational, Raul did not need to assist Lexi anymore. To his dismay, he was given the task of shadowing Hinata wherever she went. Often, Lexi noticed the woman staring.

Three days after Hinata’s arrival, she and Raul entered the communal room while Gus, Lexi and Quinlan leaned over a map of the world where red dots indicated active volcanoes. Brevil stood nervously a few paces away and on another table which had once been covered with Plexiglas and wire, now laid a detailed map of Central Park and the surrounding streets.

“Outside that range, you guys would be on your own. You’d have to fly as far as you can then steal another plane or find another way to get there.”

“The range is more limited as crossing running waters is complicated for us,” said Quinlan. “It means wasting fuel and time unless we find a human pilot.”

The Dhampir looked at the volcanologist.

“We might be able to avoid such trouble if Dr. Brevil briefly takes over above those areas. Just in case the use of the autopilot is impossible.”

Brevil protested but quickly gave up. Hinata reached behind the bar, grabbed a whiskey bottle and poured herself a large glass. Raul, almost pouting went to stand between Gus and Lexi.

“You alright?” she asked Raul.

“She scares the shit out of me.”

Hinata took a deep gulp of the amber liquid then glared at the group.

“As much as I scared you?”

“No, not nearly as much.”

Gus suddenly noticed what Hinata was doing and took the bottle from her before she could pour herself another drink.

“You know how much that shit cost?” he asked and put the bottle back where it belonged.

“No, I don’t.”

His nostrils flared but his voice remained calm.

“Raul! Get her to Arturo and see if he needs another pair of hands. If he doesn’t, get her to Julio for meal prep.”

Raul groaned.

“Her and Arturo? Fuck.”

But he obeyed and joined the woman to direct her downstairs.

“Enough freeloading. You gonna pay for the crap you eat,” said Gus.

“I don’t see those two paying for what they take.”

She threw a cold gaze toward the Dhampir.

“You think I run the details of my business through you? Get out of here.”

It took a few seconds for her to stop staring and follow Raul. It was the moment the phone chose to ring. It was a very strange sound. Surreal even. This was a sound Lexi had not heard for a year and a half. Gus reached above the bar and picked up the handset. Intrigued she focused on the voice which she did not recognize.

“Gus? I’ll make this quick ‘cause I don’t like staying on shore for long. There are three people here who are also interested in joining your gang. But you will have to drive a little. After Hinata left we went further upstate so forget about calling the usual payphones, just go to Roger Island in Catskill.”

“Alright. We’re coming now.”

“Good. If we don’t see you before dark, we’ll leave.”

“That’s fair.”

Then the other man on the phone hung up. The location was several hours drive away and both Quinlan and Gus prepared to depart. Lexi discussed their flight plan in more detail with Brevil when Quinlan’s voice very suddenly quieted down to almost nothing. She grimaced and shook her head as if this would dislodge whatever was blocking her link to him. Within less than a minute, his voice came back.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“I was inside the vault to retrieve more ammunition. Augustin insisted on closing the door behind us so prevent Hinata from spying its content.”

“Very well…Be safe.”

Brevil had waited patiently through this quiet exchange as it were a perfectly normal thing to occur. On the day of the Master’s destruction, the scientist would accompany them because they might need human assistance. In addition, if they arrived after the volcanic eruption, they could not afford to return to New York. They would lay low and wait for another opportunity to kill the beast. Lexi both hoped and dreaded that eventuality.

Brevil returned to his laptop and Lexi went downstairs to assist the brothers with dinner. They were bickering again and did not bother pausing when she sat down and began peeling potatoes.

“Do you know how long it took me to find this?” said Julio as he shook a bunch of green leaves in his fist.

“I don’t give a shit, you ain’t putting it in the food,” retorted Miguel.

“This salsa without coriander ain’t worth nothing.”

“I’ve got soap that would taste better than this crap.”

Both acknowledged her presence and as one, turned to her.

“What do you think?” asked Miguel.

“I think I know better than to take a side in this,” she said and peeled potatoes with increased vigor.

When they involved Arturo after he stopped his daily metal work, his answer came quick and final.

“Use it, we are not wasting any food.”

The meal was finished shortly after and the table was set. Amir ran up the stairs with a full plate to give it to Antonio on guard duty then came back down with Brevil. During dinner, Hinata continued staring at Lexi who was starting to feel irritation from it. So the female Dhampir focused on the chattering made of small daily dramas that she enjoyed a great deal.  When Hinata spoke, not particularly loud, the other voices fell silent.

“I heard people make bets on fights between you and Quinlan.”

Amir put down his fork still covered in food. Lexi did not appreciate the sudden change in atmosphere. Gordo had been the first to propose making those bets.

“Yes, it happened a few times,” she said.

“Have you fought those men as well?”

“No.”

They had never asked and Quinlan had not hinted that he wanted to train them. She had never even considered that possibility.

“I like staying sharp. Would you like to try me?”

Amir elbowed Raul needlessly, his eyes veering from Lexi to Hinata. Raul whispered to him: “Dude, I ain’t blind.”

Perhaps some friendly sparring would stop Hinata’s invasive gaze. Quinlan was too far to ask for his advice on the matter. If he had managed to fight Lexi when she was human, surely she would manage the same without hurting their newest ally.

“After dinner, if you wish.”

For the first time since her arrival, Hinata smiled but Lexi did not find that expression appealing. The men ate quickly and the table was cleared in record time, mostly thanks to Amir.

In the communal room, the two women faced one another. Marcus, Raul, and Amir leaned against the wall near the window. Antonio on guard duty shoved earbuds in his ears and stared resolutely outside.

“For your safety, I suggest we start without weapons,” said Lexi as she deposited her wolf-headed sword on the table.

“That’s rich…you’re telling me you’re also gonna leave that stinger of yours on the table?”

Lexi rattled at the quip but as she recalled her first training sessions with Quinlan, she repressed a smile. She too had been mouthy at times.

“I will not use it, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying. Last time a Strig tried to bite me, I pulled that thing right out of its throat.”

Amir’s mouth formed a perfect “O” and he waved a hand excitedly. Hinata threw the first punch and Lexi kept her speed to a minimum. In fact, she did not outright avoid the kicks and hits, preferring blocking them. Lexi was attempting to be kind but Hinata grew more violent by the second.

“You’re not trying at all!” hissed the woman. “Strike me!”

“As you wish.”

She amped her speed by a smidge and hit her in the back. Hinata stumbled forward and her wide cheekbones turned pink. Once more, Hinata attacked and this time instead of blocking her, Lexi dropped to the floor and swiped her legs. The woman hit the floor with a cry of pain and surprise. When she jumped to her feet her eyes were wide and her mouth a fine line.

“You’re faster than the Strigs,” she whispered.

“Much…much faster.”

Her expression turned sour. That woman had never seen either Lexi or Quinlan use the full range of their abilities so her astonishment was understandable. What Lexi could not comprehend or accept was the hostility this realization had triggered in the woman. Agreeing to this fight had perhaps been a mistake. Lexi wanted to end it but Hinata jumped her again. Whatever restraint she had exercised previously was gone. She fought dirty and with the full intent to hurt Lexi. The female Dhampir forced her opponent down on her knees with an arm twisted behind her back.

“We’re done here.”

The cooks, Julio and Miguel arrived at this moment, still bickering and Lexi looked at them. It was stupid to do so because although Lexi knew the fight was over, Hinata thought otherwise. A small silver blade cut deeply into Lexi’s thigh. Instantly she let go of the woman and shrieked. The voice did not sound like hers, it was high-pitched and savage, like a Strigoi. Instinctively she jumped back and slammed into a wall. The men were running, Marcus and Raul held Hinata as Julio searched her and extracted another blade from her boot.

Lexi looked down to her leg where her flesh sizzled against the toxic metal. She grabbed at the handle and screamed again. It was also silver. Amir rushed at her and pulled the blade out of her leg. Now that the twinge in her thigh receded, Lexi could suddenly hear Hinata and the words she was hurling at her. They were in Japanese but Lexi did not need a translation. They oozed with hatred.

“Oh shut the fuck up!” ordered Marcus and he shook the woman roughly.

That was enough to distract Hinata from her anger. And she looked around the room at the men who although they still kept their weapons in their holsters were all astonished and furious. When the pain became manageable, Lexi stood and thanked Amir. He nodded briefly and stared at Hinata. His usual grin was gone.

“I will not be able to hide this from Quinlan…” she said as she approached Hinata.

“Why should I care?”

“Because he will kill you for this and I doubt he will be gentle.”

The men present all nodded in agreement. Hinata’s façade of bravado cracked a little.

“But I would prefer to avoid that. I guess I’m the nice one, right guys?”

“She’s a goddamn hippie,” spat Amir.

His scar twisted from his grimace of anger.

“So when Quinlan comes back, I suggest you show at least some remorse. To save yourself.”

Hinata looked at the men present. Did she expect they were all bluffing?

“Do you understand?”

The woman stared at her feet and Lexi sighed in frustration. Her own anger was decreasing as quickly as the pain. She was worried too about Quinlan’s reaction to afford being angry.

“Hinata…I mean it. I really prefer if this doesn’t escalate any further. Do you get it?”

Lexi let her exhaustion through because she wanted the woman to witness it. Hinata looked up then almost imperceptibly, she nodded.

“Let’s get you back to your room…but first, we will be thoroughly searching it. I guess you understand.”

Marcus and Raul who still held onto Hinata grunted in agreement. The woman was ushered away and Lexi returned to her own room. Her wound would need to be flushed before she could stitch it and she would prefer to be alone to do that.

Lexi was shaken. She had experienced being feared but not yet being outright hated. She felt weak, and strangely hot, as if running a fever. Silver wounds were also a novel experience that she could have done without. While mending her leg, Quinlan’s voice returned to its place in the back of her mind. Although it was reassuring to have him back that way, she dreaded the discussion she knew was coming.

“What happened? Are you safe?” he asked immediately.

Despite the distance, he had felt her distress.

“I am fine but… Hinata stabbed me in the leg with a silver blade.”

“SHE DID WHAT?”

His desire for violence sliced into her just like the blade had. Lexi waited patiently for his rage to cool down.

“I will tear her in half.”

“No. It is completely unnecessary.”

“I disagree.”

The anger was not abating.

“Please…you said yourself that she’d be useful. It’s just a flesh wound. Tomorrow it will be gone.”

“I have killed for less.”

That remark irritated Lexi. She did not want to hear that.

“We need every able bodied person we have. Please, don’t do it.”

No more death. No more killing. Lexi was exhausted and she did not know if she could bear watching yet another person die.

“Promise me you will not hurt her.”

His reluctance was evident and had he been present, she was certain he would have been growling.

“Quinlan, please.”

“Your request is unreasonable but I will not touch her.”

Lexi breathed in relief. Hours later, when the gate buzzed open and five hearts exited the SUV, she did not have the strength to run to him. Marcus and Amir came up the stairs and she watched as they brought Hinata out of her bedroom. The woman was collected and the look she gave Lexi did not contain hatred. Or at least, she hid it well.

When they entered the communal space, the new people were not yet here. Lexi focused and heard their voices downstairs. Two women and a man, all fairly young. With those, she would keep a step back because this entire mess could not happen again. As she expected, Quinlan snarled loudly when he spotted Hinata. Although Lexi did not expect him to break his promise, she joined him and placed her palms on his chest.

“You seem tired,” he said and the rumbling of his throat died down.

“That’s because I am.”

Ignoring Lexi, Gus headed straight for Hinata.

“You better tell me what the fuck happened right now.”

“When I came here I thought I’d be killing Strigs, not play house with them.”

Quinlan tensed. Not wanting to test his resolve further, Lexi pulled him to the staircase and he followed reluctantly. Amir and Marcus’ voices were recounting the events in detail. Lexi closed the bedroom door, relieved that she had managed to spare Hinata from Quinlan’s ire. He stood in the middle of the room and just like her, focused on the voices below.

“So this was no accident?” said Gus.

“No,” confirmed Hinata almost proud.

Lexi cringed. She had told her to show at least some remorse.

“I warned you,” said Gus.

His voice was low and cool. Lexi had never heard him speak that way and she realized her error. But she was weak and it was too late. A single gunshot echoed in the building followed by the thump of a body hitting concrete. Lexi struck the door and slumped to the floor. More killing. Always more cold-blooded violence. She sobbed and held her face.  

“Did you tell him to do that?” she asked Quinlan.

“No, but when he informed that it was a possible outcome, I did not convince him otherwise.”

“This is just as wrong as killing her yourself.”

“Augustin made a sensible choice.”

When he tried to touch her, she pulled away. Lexi surprised herself. At this very moment, it took huge effort not to snarl. She stood on her shaky legs.

“No! Do not try to justify this. The only one that needs to die is the Master.”

“You are blinded by your inexperience.”

Lexi growled loudly and the claws of her stinger poked out of her mouth. She forced the appendage back in her throat and clenched her teeth. Quinlan was calm and his demeanor fueled her outrage.

“Wars have casualties but treating people like disposable objects is what we’re fighting against.”

“It is crucial that you comprehend, Hinata had become worse than worthless. She had become a loose cannon. Lexi, I was thrust into arenas with only a few men and our wit as weapons, I have marched into the desert against the Berbers outmanned and desperate, and I have defeated the Silures in Britain on their native land. I have walked into battle thousands of times and I can assure you that doubting the intentions of my fellow soldiers would have meant defeat. For that reason, it was impossible for Hinata to fight alongside us. Now is not the time for taking prisoners, especially if they are hostile, capable and in the possession of sensitive information.”

“It doesn’t matter! We’re almost done! Keeping her locked up for a short period would not have been complicated.”

“It would have. It would have been manpower and food that Augustin knew he could not waste during such decisive times.”

Her furor spiked. It blazed red hot in her mind and the edges of her vision were darkening. When she remembered the fear in the eyes of the people she had watched die, the rage became blinding.

“Since the moment we met you have made a point of disregarding human life and I am sick of it.”

His scowl intensified and she knew exactly why. With this sentence, she had made this argument awfully personal. But this was what the rage demanded.

“I get it! Humans are insects to you. Their lives are so short that it’s very easy to shorten them just a little further.”

He shook his head and she was unsure that it was because he wanted her to stop speaking or because he disagreed with the words.

“You admitted yourself that when we first met, my existence was meaningless to you. You wanted to kill me when I had just saved you.”

The scowl vanished replaced by discomfort.

“Please don’t…”

“The only reason you bothered realizing that I was a person who deserved to live was because you were forced to. But now YOU need to understand something. Every time you kill someone, you kill me. All those people must seem very small to you, and they are. I saw your soul and how large it was. But I am tiny as well. I haven’t lived millennia, I haven’t learned dozens of languages, I haven’t experienced so much that my soul has become a sun, like yours. So when you kill someone as insignificant as I am, you kill me.”

“It is not like this. You don’t understand...”

“And I hope I never will. I’m glad I will die before I have a chance to become as inured to killing as you are.”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“You don’t mean this.”

She scoffed.

“You know damn well I cannot lie to you in the Bond.”

Quinlan stood there, looking at her with sorrow that she did not have the strength to bear. Lexi cried out when his feelings streamed inside her mind.

“STOP IT!”

She held her head and ran out of the room, down the stairs to the only place that would quiet the agony she had caused him without cutting him off completely. A few people spotted her but she ignored them and opened the vault and slipped inside it. When she closed the heavy door, the Bond was dampened by the thick metal walls. Had they contained lead, she would have been separated from Quinlan completely. But they were just steel, not quite dense enough. Exhausted by the twinge in her mind and that in her leg, she sat on the concrete and cried.

It was too much. And in this instant, although she still resented Quinlan for his disregard for human life, she also was guilty. Why accept to spar Hinata? She should have ignored her and walked away. Had she stayed put in the bunker just like Quinlan had wanted her to, Hinata would still be alive. The two men she had murdered on that highway would also still live. It did not matter that Quinlan had thought her actions justified, what she had done was disgusting. They had reminded her of her father and had paid that with their lives.

Creem had not deserved such a death at her hand either. The only reason she had done it had been to quench her anger. However traitorous they had been, none of the men they had killed that day deserved such an end.

Would Gordo have been spared without her here? She shook her head. No…Gordo’s death was not her fault. But how many had perished because she had decided she wanted to fight in this war?

Her voluntary transformation had robbed her of part of her humanity but this constant bloodshed would surely take away what remained. She lied down on her side and held her knees tightly against her chest. She was so very tired.

It hurt. Her words cut deep inside. Not because she misunderstood him, but because she had gone from accepting death as inevitable to almost wishing it. And that change had been his doing. There was no time for conflict between them. Quinlan did not attempt to follow her, not even when her voice became less than a murmur. First, he needed to collect himself so he sat on the bed and breathed deeply.

Could it really be a surprise that this violence would eventually overwhelm her? Quinlan was not accustomed to this. While his previous loved ones had never been demure, they also had never been involved in in his quest to kill the Master. And while she had chosen to fight, at heart, she would never be a soldier.

Quinlan recalled various instances when in the past her moral opinions had irritated him and his pain decreased. Stubbornly and despite the pointlessness of her reprimands, she had kept reminding him of what she considered cruel or unacceptable. The Dhampir had no desire to become even worse of a monster than he already was but he could not take back the brutalities he had committed so far. Though he could abstain for the days or weeks they had left.  For her, he would. What about the others?

Gordo’s panicked eyes as death approached sprung in his mind and he cringed. He had been a good man and his death had been gratuitous. Augustin, Raul, Amir, Marcus…would he look away from their dead bodies as easily as he had done with other humans? Lexi had a gift for uttering words which left scorch marks in his head.

Humans were small, ephemeral creatures compared to Quinlan but their lives were no less precious to them. And her human life had been so very precious to him. When had he turned so cold to the plights of humankind? His younger self, the one who could not bear to see women suffer at the hands of his centurions; the one who had saved Tasa from them, would he despise what Quinlan had become?

He removed his leather harness and coat. Then he took out his sword and carefully honed then oiled it. During that process, Quinlan selected his words carefully. He was a monster and a murderer but he needed her to know why. That he had not always been like this and that she would never be.

His heartlessness had not started when he had been forced to kill Ancharia, his adoptive mother. No…it had come later after his time as a soldier. He had been young and complacent, choosing to marry Tasa and with her daughter Sura, to form a family.

Back then, he had been convinced that he could delay his search for the Master by a single lifetime. Working the soil, playing with his daughter and enjoying wholesome intimacy for the first time since his birth. For a short year, Qunilan had stayed away from combat, from killing, from violence. He had tasted true happiness and when the Master had yanked it out of his grasp something had shattered in his heart.

After slicing at the corrupted bodies of his loved ones, he had burned down Rome. The Master had been hiding there. He had taken Tasa and Sura’s lives and Quinlan would uncover him. Even if he had to sift through Rome’s ashes to do so. All the innocent lives lost that day did not matter because none of them were Tasa or Sura. The Dhampir had loved again after his first wife and every single time he had come to deeply regret it. But Lexi…he could not bring himself to regret.

Quinlan deposited his sword on the bed and finally certain of what he would tell Lexi, he walked down the stairs to find her. The lowest level was dark and empty when he crossed it. His footsteps echoed in this unusual silence but he was unsure she would be able to hear him. Even standing before the door of the vaulted room, he could not perceive the beatings of her heart. He entered the six-digit code and unlocked the heavy latch but did not pull on the door. Quinlan let it swing open only a crack, which was sufficient to restore the fullness of the Bond.

“I would like to talk to you.”

She stayed quiet and it was for the best as he preferred to remain uninterrupted. Those thoughts, he had never disclosed to anyone and that novelty filled him with uneasiness.

“You will never become like me, beloved. You would not let yourself follow that path. In fact, our lives started so differently I am certain this path is out of your reach.”

She still did not speak but inside the small room, the quiet sounds of her heart approached.

“Can you imagine how life amongst men was for me? Every time someone could see past my monstrous nature? It would not stop them from dying. In fact, it would likely mean they would suffer an untimely demise. There were always two immutable forces in my life: the Master with his desire to punish me for existing but also…the passage of time.

“In the beginning…I did enjoy human friendships. If those people did not die in battle or if the Master did not steal them from me…they’d wither away and their souls still slipped between my fingers. They would still leave me behind.”

The door swung open slowly and her hazel eyes appeared from within the darkness.

“I pushed humans away and I turned callous. I was obliged to do so as it was the only way to remain sane. I forced myself to ignore the uniqueness of each voice that ended snuffed away around me or because of me. I had to. And yes…with the years it became easier. Somewhere along the way, perhaps it became too easy.

“But I was so very lonely. My will faltered at times and if I stayed put too long it happened that I would grow attached to those who did not hate me. It never ended well. How could it?”

She stepped outside the vault and he was relieved that her rage had gone, instead, she appeared almost sheepish.

“Within the walls of that bunker, I grew weak. I desperately desired a life with you once the Master was imprisoned. And after that, I would have no reason to endure the passage of time any longer. I would not have to let you leave me behind when your human life came to a close. I wanted this, an existence followed by its natural conclusion.”

She bit her lip and took his hand which he accepted with a sorrowful grin.

“But then he saw you and this irrational vision of mine was suddenly extinguished. So I gave you up and I thought myself righteous because you would be able to have a life with someone who could grow old with you, who could give you a family. A normal life, not one hiding in the shadows with a demon.”

She shook her head fiercely at that last word and mouthed the word “no” quietly. Quinlan’s eyes stung but he did not look away.

“My dearest Lexi, I never deluded myself into thinking I deserved you. From the instant, I kissed you and you kissed me back, I knew how selfish I was. But during a fleeting moment, I was happy again.

“That happiness paled in comparison to feeling the warmth of your soul on that roof. For a split second, there were endless possibilities. For a split second, the passage of time ceased to be an enemy because you would never wither away.”

He kissed her when the humidity in his eyes overflowed. Lexi accepted his kiss. When she hugged his neck, Quinlan breathed deeply into her hair.

“What a cruel joke that my enemy should now become the lack of time rather than the abundance of it. And I hate myself for enjoying the moments we share more than I regret that you will not get the full life you are entitled to. Even now, with a single word from you, I would throw my lifelong mission away to get more of that time. However, as much as my callousness and selfish desires make me a demon, Lexi, you will never be one.”

“Quinlan…you are not a demon,” she said.

She pulled on her sleeve and with it wiped away the tears on his jaw.

“Am I not?” he asked, unconvinced.

“No. Everything you desire is right here but you are still working relentlessly toward a goal that will take it away. It doesn’t matter if your thoughts are selfish, right now, your actions are not. Quinlan, that makes you beautiful to me.”

Those words were soothing and they could only be shared sincerely. His arms closed tightly around his precious one and his self-loathing abated a little. No…he could not bring himself to regret meeting her or to regret the transformation that would bring about her death. There was too little time to allow regret to spoil the softness of her presence.

[thesilverdragoon]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

I’m not subjecting anyone to this horror. Stolen from @crimsonfluidessence​

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Vesevont Nevelaux

NICKNAME: Ves, “Cap”

AGE: 49

BIRTHDAY: 15th Sun of the Second Astral Moon (March 15)

ETHNIC GROUP: Ishgardian Elezen

NATIONALITY: Ishgardian

LANGUAGE(S): Common Eorzean

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

CLASS: Dragoon (OOC only, IC a mere knight)

HOMETOWN / AREA: Coerthas

CURRENT HOME: The Mist

PROFESSION: Ex-knight of Ishgard's House Durendaire. Currently: none

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Blond

EYES: Amber

NOSE: He has one(1) nose.

FACE: Scarred, eye bags, wrinkly, crow’s feet, a little gaunt, aged

LIPS: Probably dry to be fair.

COMPLEXION: Light or, probably just pale

BLEMISHES: We all have ‘em

SCARS: One over the right eye, one across the left cheek and nose. And others.

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 6′6″

WEIGHT: Average for his height

BUILD: Lean, fit

FEATURES: He’s got pretty big ears?

ALLERGIES: Bananas.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Short, blond, shaved on the sides.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Resting bitch face

USUAL CLOTHING: Old knight-attire with green cloak, or his blue outfit later in SB

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Abandonment, his kids or friends getting hurt, Carbuncles, Voidsent

ASPIRATION(S): Being able to settle down with someone

POSITIVE TRAITS: Tenacious, Loyal, Polite, Caring, Merciful

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Reckless, Stubborn, Confrontational, Harsh, Impulsive

ZODIAC: Ironically a Pisces (Thaliak on the Eorzean calender)

TEMPERAMENT: Guarded but usually optimistic

SOUL TYPE(S): He has a soul or he wouldn’t be alive.

ANIMALS: He’d want to be a shark

VICE HABIT(S): Stress-eating, boredom eating, eating

FAITH: Unknown

GHOSTS?: Reluctantly yes

AFTERLIFE?: He hopes so

REINCARNATION?: Maybe

ALIENS?: "Who?”

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Probably really liberal

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Don’t ask him things like this he doesn’t know.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: Refer to the above

EDUCATION LEVEL: Life experience. (He was a knight. Cannon fodder.)

FAMILY.

FATHER: Yes; Dead

MOTHER: Yes; Dead

SIBLINGS: No

EXTENDED FAMILY: Probably

NAME MEANING(S): Vesevont is the made up version to his OC actual name, Vsevolod, which hilariously means ‘lord of everything/everybody’. It’s also a name that hasn’t been used in centuries so anyone with that name is looked at very weirdly irl.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: No.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Particular towards fiction, because he likes happy endings.

MOVIE: If there were movies, rom-coms.

5 SONGS: He doesn’t really listen to music anymore

DEITY: Not currently

HOLIDAY: Maybe Starlight

MONTH: Doesn’t matter

SEASON: Spring

PLACE: The Ruby Sea

WEATHER: Warm and sunny

SOUND: The ocean, the breaking-the-sound-barrier sound Sihl makes when flying

SCENT(S): Fresh cut flowers

TASTE(S): Savory, spicy, chocolatey

FEEL(S): Warm hands on his icicle hands.

ANIMAL(S): Again, sharks

NUMBER: 13. A baker’s dozen

COLORS: Yellow

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Destroying property, taste-testing, withstanding harsh environments

BAD AT: Acting normal and well integrated into society, social anything

TURN ONS: Intelligence, Kindness, Snappy Wits and Sarcasm, Prim and Proper

TURN OFFS: Cruelty, Unforgiving..ness, All Out Bad

HOBBIES: Flying with Sihl and exploring, sometimes people-watching

TROPES: Anime-Reactions, Dopey Dad, Seems to Survive Everything

AESTHETIC TAGS: Birds, the sky, flying, the sun, dragons happy, uplifting and airy

GPOY  QUOTES: "Uh oh.”

FC INFO. (I dont know what ANY of this means.)

MAIN FC(S): 

ALT FC(S): 

OLDER FC(S):

YOUNGER FC(S): 

VOICE CLAIM(S): WS!Cap definitely was lip-syncing Ronan Harris’ voice due to the sheer multitude of VNV songs that were part of his character. But Ves specifically?? I imagine something probably deeper and more rough but I haven’t heard anything I liked in particular yet.

GENDERBENT FC(S): 

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

If it were up to me, the movie would be emulating a war movie in style, with muted and often cold colors and much darker themes and tones. Occasionally there’d be bursts of color or uplifting scenes to remind everyone that people are still human and contrast all the darker stuff, so a balance between the two. 

That’d be the most important part of it for me personally. Many references to all sorts of symbolism, though not too heavy-handed with it, allegories, metaphors, etc. To explore the spectrum of the ...for lack of better term, human condition.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

Completely orchestrated, done in a romantic style so that, in case someone weren’t watching the movie itself, they could simply listen to the music and imagine their own scene to it as the composition of said songs would ...in a perfect world, be very specifically tailored to fit certain sequences of emotion and whatnot.

And of course some violin/piano duet pieces sprinkled here and there.

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

Ves is just one version of an old OC I’ve had for a long, long time. Maybe eight or so years. Give or take. He’s got several different iterations thus far.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

My love for war movies and such to be honest. Along with my insane fascination and interest in historical narratives and European warfare and the like. Typically, Ves’ character is usually pulling all sorts of things from WW1 from fashion to mannerisms, and his whole world is constructed to emulate that as well (though, not set on Earth.) Not the FFXIV version of course because Ishgard is there, but other versions of him such as WS and his original counterpart.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

If I had to pick the largest thing I have against him (and I mean this character in general, not specifically FFXIV,) it’s the need for historical accuracy in most cases. I’m a die-hard for things like that and spend a lot of time doing research (usually just for fun but I get carried away easily.) Considering reference material isn’t always the easiest to find for really specific things from a time period that old, it becomes frustrating VERY quickly when I don’t feel I’m portraying him ‘authentically’ enough.

Elsewise, as far as his personality goes, he’s just like any dad. The need to always be right drives me absolutely insane. The good thing about him though is that he’s fictional and I can make him change and grow and learn. >:) Now that’s what I call sexy.

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

We both love to eat and eat way too much too often and yet are like twigs. And we’re too particular about certain things.

I dunno, your characters technically are just facets of you.

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

He’d be extremely annoyed but I don’t think he’d do anything about it. I am but a CHILDE.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

Thus far? There’s Lowrey who won’t leave him alone and is always trying to wrangle Ves in like a bucking horse, and they’re VERY entertaining to watch with their weird and aggressive banter (on Ves’ part anyway, he can’t stand the guy. Lowrey just rolls with the punches with a big grin and keeps on pushing. Ves is gonna clobber him one of these days for real this time. For REAL this time.)

And then there’s Ves and Caudecus’ very polarizing and almost jarring but still extremely funny interactions with one another. They’re roommates right now so, typical roommate shenanigans, laugh track plays here. There’s something sinister hidden underneath it all and I think Caud may just get a laugh out of stabbing Ves verbally, which is also something I enjoy laying witness to.

And of course, Mei and Ves. He has NO idea who she is, he just kind of met her out there in the wilderness I suspect and thought she was weird, but she’s very fun and loves to go exploring and flying too and that’s something he can relate to. Plus Mei displays a very clear sense of justice and that is something he appreciates VERY much. She’s just whacky and weird and a mystery but he likes it and doesn’t know why. It’s probably all the pink.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?:

Anime stuff probably, war stuff. I dunno, depends on my mood for the day. I don’t need inspiration, my characters are just on a roulette wheel. Which one do I feel like using today.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

About an hour, but I had to constantly rephrase things that didn’t make sense.

[intrepidolivia]

Tarot: 2--The High Priestess

High Priestess is a card of mystery, stillness and passivity. This card suggests that it is time to retreat and reflect upon the situation and trust your inner instincts to guide you through it. Things around you are not what they appear to be right now.

Olivia stared at Negan, open mouthed for a moment before she found her voice. “There was… a lot wrong with that sentence,” she told him.

He chuckled, clearly amused at her response. “Now, don’t be so hasty, lil’ Omega. There are a lot of perks to being a wife.”

“‘One of’ you said. ‘Wives’ you said. Implying there are multiples already.” She wrinkled her nose, glaring at him. “So in plain language you want me in your harem.”

He shrugged. “Look, I won’t force you. Just giving you the option.You can be my wife, not worry about having to earn points, live in luxury and have anything you want.” He paused, his dark eyes sliding up to fix her. “And of course, when you hit your heat you won’t have to worry about being without a mate.”

“No,” she said flatly. His suggestion made her recoil. She knew when her heat came it would be difficult, but she would die of the fever before she let some post-apocalyptic despot knot her, much less mate her. No matter how easy on the eyes Negan was, or how aroused the thought of his teeth on her throat made her.

Negan raised an eyebrow. “Feel free to take a moment to think on it,” he said drily.

“No,” she repeated. She looked away uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself. He was asking, at least. It was better than she’d expected, but clearly he still wanted her. If she went into heat, or he had a rut, would it still be a question?

“All right, doll. We’ll let it go at that. I won’t guarantee the question won’t come up again, but for the time being we’ll table it.” If he wondered at her reaction, he didn’t mention it. “I’m still going to put you in with my girls, though.” He held up a hand as she started to object. “Don’t get upset. It’s the safest place in Sanctuary. I’m not going to put you out there with everyone.”

“You don’t trust your people?” she asked.

“Fuck no,” he snorted. “They mostly obey the rules, but I don’t want anyone tempted to mess with you. Or for someone to lose their head because an Omega’s on the property. I don’t want you hurt, and I don’t want to have to kill any of my folks for hurting you.”

She frowned at that, glancing up at him. He’d killed Kevin without a second thought, but that had been a show of dominance to another settlement. Would he really kill one of his own people? The look on his face said he was serious. “I guess if that’s what you think is best,” she ventured.

He nodded. “No one, and I mean no one, gets to go near my wives’ rooms. Except me, of course. And Sherry is an Alpha. She’s got no interest in women so it’ll be like having a mama bear between you and the knotheads.”

“What about you?” she asked.

Negan smiled slightly. “I’m mature, doll. And I’ve been mated. My rut hits the same time as your heat I’ll stay away--if you want me to--but if it’s one or the other I can deal with it.”

She wasn’t sure she trusted him fully, but it was more safety than she’d had in a long time. “All right,” she said finally.

“Good. See? Progress,” he chuckled. “I’m even gonna skip the points for tonight, since you don’t look like you’ve been properly fed in a while. You can eat upstairs with the girls. I’ll show you around and take you to the infirmary for work tomorrow. Sound like a deal?”

It was hard not to respond to his smile. Wide and toothy, dimpled… He was handsome. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice. Between that and the heady, attractive scent of him, there was a part of her that wanted to take him up on his offer. But she’d only just met him, and she couldn’t be certain if his charm was only a front. “Yeah. I think I can live with that,” she agreed softly.

“Well then, in that case we need to talk rules,” he said.

“This where you tell me I have to drop to my knees and bow before you?” She didn’t quite mean to purr the question, but it was what happened.

Negan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his smile turning a little predatory. “Baby, I can’t deny the sight of you on your knees sounds hot as hell,” he rumbled. “But, yes. You’re not a wife, you’re just one of my people. And my people pay proper respect. Which also means much as I like that sass, if you’re in front of anyone else, you need to keep a lid on it.” His expression turned serious. “Because I like you, sweet thing, but if you mouth off where people can hear it I’m going to have to address it.”

She hesitated, nervously. “Address it…?”

“I’ll have to punish you,” he said calmly.

Olivia’s eyes flicked to the bat instinctively, and she felt her mouth go dry.

“Calm down, little Omega,” he said gently. “I told you, we aren’t monsters.” He sighed. “I won’t kill you for sassing off to me. Jeez, you need to lighten up, babydoll. You break the rules here, you get punished. Might dock your points, you might get a night in a cell…” His eyes slid over her hungrily. “Might put you over my knee.”

She felt her cheeks flood with warmth and she looked away. Despite herself, she felt a shock of arousal between her legs at the thought. She jumped a little as she felt his fingers on her chin, turning her face to look at him.

“Yeah, I think that might just be the most effective, hmm?” he purred, his thumb feathering over her lips.

She almost melted under his touch, but made herself pull away. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Kneel to you, don’t sass. What else?” She tried to sound firm, but her voice was breathy and low.

He smiled, sitting back in his chair. “Well, now we get into the more serious issues,” he said, as though he had no idea of the effect he had on her. “No theft, no slacking on your job, no attacking others, stuff I don’t expect you to be a problem about.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “And you don’t leave Sanctuary without my express permission. Hell, in your case probably not without me along. I’ll keep you safe, keep you fed. Abandoning your job and your community after what I’ve given you… that shit don’t fly.”

She nodded a little. So she was a prisoner there. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but at least she knew her situation a bit more clearly.

“Gonna have a few more for you, to keep you safe around here, but the rest is details. The girls can fill you in some. You seem like you’ll be good for me, though, right, baby?” He winked, almost teasingly.

“Yes, sir,” she said, forcing herself to ignore his flirtation. If she was in fact a prisoner, however gilded her cage, she wasn’t at all certain she wanted to get close to her jailor. Or, considering that he was trapping her there and paying her in scrip, her overseer.

“Save the formal shit for public, doll,” he drawled. He stood, hefting his bat over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s show you where you’ll be staying.”

Olivia followed him out into the hallways again, and he led her past more people, this time mostly armed. There seemed to be more Alphas sprinkled through the guards, and she tried to keep her head down and avoid eye contact. They knelt just like the rest of the workers outdoors, but there was a more powerful air about them all. His elite guard, she imagined. She caught a glimpse of one of them, a man with blonde hair hanging in his face, who raised his head as they passed.

One side of his face was a mass of scars with a melted-wax texture she recognized immediately as burns. His eyes caught hers, hard and cold, and she shivered, forced to look away.

She followed Negan up a set of metal stairs and down a far less populous hallway. She could smell perfume and hear music before they got to the door he paused at, rapping sharply before he came inside.

“Knock knock!” he called. “I hope no one’s decent!”

The room they entered was lavish by post-apocalypse standards. It was situated into a sitting area, complete with a stocked bar on one wall. There were plush looking chairs and couches, and in the corner a small stereo played music. What caught her eye most, however, was the other women.

There were five of them, all in sleek black dresses. Olivia suddenly felt very self-conscious of her ragged jeans and threadbare shirt. The tallest woman, with nut-brown hair, stood, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air. Her eyes fixed on Olivia.

“An Omega?” she asked, frowning slightly.

Negan put a hand on Olivia’s back, gently pushing her forward. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Olivia. Some asshole brought her to give to me as a present and she’s feeling a little nervous about shit right now, so be nice.”

The woman who’d spoken stepped forward, and Olivia caught the scent of Alpha, cinnamon and vanilla. “No mating mark,” she murmured, and looked up at Negan. “She’s lucky.”

“Damn straight,” Negan replied. He glanced down at Olivia. “Ok, doll. This is Sherry.” He pointed at the others in turn. “Tanya with the black hair, Frankie the other redhead, Amy with the blonde braid, and Amber drinking me out of house and home.” He said it all pleasantly enough, but the blonde at the bar gave Olivia a withering look.

“Wife number six?” asked Amber sharply.

“No, Liv here isn’t a wife yet.” He gave her a wink. She tried to ignore it. “But I’m rooming her with you ladies because it’s not safe for an Omega to be out among the general population.”

Amber sniffed, taking a drink of wine. Olivia began to doubt that they would be friends.

Sherry, on the other hand, nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “The minute someone thought they could get away with it…”

Negan smiled, tipping her chin up in his hand. “And that’s why I brought her here, doll. I knew you’d take care of her.” He kissed Sherry deeply.

Olivia looked away, an unwanted surge of jealousy rising in her chest. She didn’t want Negan to mate her. She didn’t want him to knot her. She didn’t want him to look at her. She had no reason to be jealous.

She was startled out of her reverie when Negan’s hand dropped onto her head. He winked down at her. “I’ll send up food in a bit. You be good and listen to Sherry. And I’ll see you tomorrow, babydoll.” With that he walked out, leaving her alone with the wives.

Olivia drew into herself nervously. All eyes were on her, and it felt uncomfortable. Like she was cornered. Then Sherry smiled down at her.

“You must be scared shitless,” she observed. “Come have a glass of wine before Amber drinks it all.” She caught Olivia’s hand, pulling her gently to the bar.

“I… yeah I’m kind of intimidated,” she admitted. She accepted the offered glass, sipping appreciatively.

Sherry shrugged. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Negan put you here to keep you out of everyone’s reach.”

“Except his,” Olivia muttered.

“Well, he’s the boss,” Sherry laughed. She took a breath and frowned a little. “To be honest I can’t believe… An Omega on her own without a mate…” She reached out, brushing back Olivia’s hair gently. “You’re lucky. After everything went to hell…”

“I was a target,” Olivia finished. “I know. I knew it was going to get bad and that a lot of Alphas and even Betas would be after me. I managed this long. If Kevin hadn’t decided to give me to Negan…” She shuddered.

Amber snorted from her perch on a barstool. “So she’s a fuckin’ Omega. That’s no reason for you and Negan to act like she’s some kind of special edition.” Her blue eyes narrowed. “Maybe if they’re so weak we’re better off if they get fucked to death.”

Olivia took a step toward the other woman. “Say that again--” she began.

Sherry’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. While it was unlikely, given Sherry’s orientation, that they would bond as mates, the brunette was still an Alpha. The command, even unspoken, stopped Olivia in her tracks, silencing her.

Sherry turned to Amber. “Don’t talk to her like that again,” she said calmly. “Omegas are what they’re meant to be and there’s nothing weak about that.”

Amber rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything else.

“Now, Olivia,” Sherry said, turning back to her. “Let’s get you settled. There’s a room next to mine. I imagine you have a lot of thinking to do.” She slipped an arm around Olivia’s shoulders gently, leading her away from the bar. “It’s okay to be nervous. You haven’t figured out what’s going on yet and you need some time. If you need to talk things out I’ll be around. But things aren’t as bad as they seem, I promise,” she said gently.

Olivia dearly hoped she was right.

Tagging:  @noodlecupcakes @glittered-unicorn-lava @genevievedarcygranger@adair-donovan @feistybaby @negans-network  @ask-kakashihatake @haleyea @collette04

[fogteeth-orcs]

OC Profiles

Dorruk (Derek) Age:31 Height: 6’11” Species:Orc Build:Muscular, solid, not much body fat

Appearance: Dorruk tends to have the worst case of resting rage face, and it is not helped when he smiled. He tends to always look angry, despite him having a rather even temper. His markings are a darker slate grey blue, while the pale patches of his skin are more of a greyish peach as opposed to bright pink. His yellow eyes are bright and have flecks of orange in them. Despite his angry looking face his markings do help soften his expression when he relaxes, which is unfortunately rarely. Dorruk is broad shouldered and strong. He lifts weights with his buddies often and has a powerful build. He has placed a few times in orcish strong man competitions, but has yet to win.

Body Mods: Dorruk has a brand on the back of his neck, it is hard to determine what it is as it looks as though someone cut over it and tried to get scar tissue to obscure the mark. He has tattoos on his back and sides, as well as other areas of his body. He also has quite a few piercings.

Personality: Dorruk is typically an even tempered person. He isn’t quick to fly off the handle despite always looking angry. The anger mostly comes from no one ever getting his name right. He tends to be tense and high strung, drinking far too much coffee to be healthy and not sleeping enough. Dorruk suffers from depression, but hides it well. He honestly believes that he will grow out of it and the sad feelings will go away.

History: Dorruk doesn’t talk about his past. He never mentions his family, and it is clear he was not born into the Fogteeth clan.

Side Notes: Dorruk hates being called Derek, but has grown to accept it. He finds it more acceptable when humans do it and he has stopped cringing when he hears the name. He does still have a bit of a twitch when he is stressed out and someone deliberately calls him Derek. His left eye and ear twitch simultaneously.

THE TWINS: Gorefist & Jawrip Age:37 Height:7’5” Species: Orc? Build:Tall, broad, muscular, some fat over the stomach area (think strongman)

Appearance: Have you ever run into a wall and though man that is a warm wall and then looked up and it is the biggest most muscular dude ever. Yeah that only more intense, and two of them. The twins look like they could pick up and toss semis. Their coloring is a paler slightly more turquoise blue for their patterns, while the lighter skin is a light greyish white. Both have deep yellow eyes that look a bit more like amber.

History: The twins love their mama and will beat the blue off anyone that makes a “yo mamma” joke. They started working at an early age to help support their large family. Their mom would take in siblings, cousins, and pretty much anyone else that had nowhere else to go. They got their compassion from her, but it isn’t evident in how they behave sometimes. Their strength has been historically abused by those with power looking to have an edge over their enemies. They usually only have to walk in with someone and negotiations seem to go better.

Side Notes: Both boys take being twins to the full advantage. They play pranks and often will switch clothes multiple times during parties and gatherings just to fuck with people. Very few have ever caught on, and even fewer can actually tell them apart fully clothed.

**Gorefist**

Body Mods:Gore has piercings and tattoos, but you have to take his clothes off to see most of them.

Personality: Of the two Gore is the calmer one, but comes off as being the scarrier one. He doesn’t talk as much as Rip and that is for good reason. Gore is legally blind. He can see shapes, colors, and blurs without his glasses. Even up close he can make out faces, but legally he is listed as blind without his glasses. The problem is he never wears them. It ruins the whole twin thing and he fears it would make him a target. Rip has been Gore’s extra eyes since they were kids. He uses sound, vibration, smell, and temperature changes to help him navigate. His eyesight improves in the dark. Gore doesn’t trust easy and has little experience with women. They make him nervous and he fears hurting them. He would rather just ignore his needs or take care of it himself, rather than risk it. He will sometimes apologize for Rip being a complete cunt though, but not always. His brother needs to learn to dig himself out of his own messes.

**Jawrip**

Body Mods:Rip has a tattoo that matches one of his brothers and it is the only body mod he has.

Personality:  Rip has anger issues and is a bit of a cocky bastard. He knows that few can stand up against him and his brother and he adores the attention. He will often make an ass of himself just to get his brother to laugh, but if anyone else does he is quick to put them in their place. Rip has more experience with the ladies as he is more of a ladies man. He looks out for his brother all the time and it is very much a “you mess with one, you get both” situation if someone fucks with Gore. Rip would die for his brother, he just tends to act like an asshole to overcompensate. Getting through to his emotions can be a bit harder.

**Taalah (Talli)**

Age: 21  Height: 5’3” Species: Half Orc/Half Human Build: Curvy with some chub, but also a bit muscular under it all

Appearance: Talli is short for an orc, but she gets that from her human side. She looks more orc than human in that her body structure is almost fully orc. She has the pointed ears, tusks, even the patterned skin. She would almost be indistinguishable from an orc if not for her multi colored mohawk. She wears it in that style because she can’t grow a full head of hair. Her eyes look orcish from a distance. They are mostly yellowish orange, only when up close can the bright blue rings around the edges of her iris be seen.

Body Mods: Multiple piercings, just getting started on tattoos and looking for more.

Personality:  Talli has the sweet and innocent routine down so pat she fools herself sometimes. She is a bit of a prankster and is far too curious for her own good. She has been on the receiving end of many a well deserved ass beating because of that curiosity. She doesn’t always know when to quit. She isn’t naive but plays it well, she wants people to underestimate her. She has a big heart, sometimes too big, and will befriend people that may not always have her best interest at heart because she just wants to make a genuine connection even if she knows it is unlikely.

History: Growing up as a halfbreed Talli learned at an early age that live is an unfair, unbearable hellhole. She never asked to exist, but she tries to take each day as it comes. Talli is loved by her parents, but not society and there is only so far a parents love can take someone. Especially since her mother left her father for another man. She chose to stay with her dad to take care of him, even though she lied and said it was for other reasons. She doesn’t really have friends because she can’t trust anyone.

**Side Notes:** Talli doesn’t talk about her mother, when people assume her mom is dead she never corrects them.

**Petrus (Pete aka Big Pete)**

Age: 41 Height: 7’9” Species: Orcgre (Half orc/ half Ogre) Build: Like a brick shit house

Appearance: Pete is a gym rat and has a build to match. He spends every spare moment at the gym, or working out in some other way. He will often go to open lots and tug whatever random shit he can find across it, including abandoned vehicles and construction equipment. He  has long black hair that he wears pulled back in a braid when he is working out but lets loose most the time when he is not. He also has a long goatee he braids. He never clipped his horns so the grow up and curl back slightly. His eyes are bright green, almost unnaturally so.

Body Mods:

Personality: Pete is quiet most the time as he is too busy getting swol to really talk to anyone. Being a half breed he feels out of place pretty much everywhere and his massive size does not help.

History: No one knows where Pete is from. He just showed up one day and wont leave.

**Side Notes:** Pete is deeply arachnophobic and for such a large guy with such a deep booming voice, he manages to scream like a small human girl child when he sees one. ((not done this is the most I got for him))

**Gordrak (Dadghu)**

**Age:** 69  **Height:**6’9” **Species:** ORC

**Gender:**Male  **Sexuality:** Straight

**Build:** Strong muscular body, broad, but with some pudge

**Appearance:** Gordrak is an orcs orc. He has a massive muscular body, broad shoulders, barrel chest, but a pudgy stomach that hides his true strength. His tusks are big, and he has a powerful presence when he walks into a room. His body is covered in scars, he has a large one on his chest that is faded. A bear clawed him when he was a teen.

**Personality:**  Gordrak is a no-nonsense kind of orc. He is from the old country, born there and transplanted into the United States. He believes in the old ways and isn’t 100% on board with where his son has taken their clan. He has a dry wit and often it can’t be distinguished if he is serious or not when he says something. He plays up the ‘ignorant old person’ bit for multiple reasons. He loves when some young upstart underestimates him. Despite his gruffness, Gordrak has a gentle spirit, he just doesn’t show it. He has fought for equality since he was young and wants to see his grandson make something of himself.

**History:** Gordrak was raised in the old country and followed the old ways. He has wrestled and killed bears, he even adopted a couple of cubs and them and their progeny have been part of the clan for decades. He was mated but has recently become single, he doesn’t like talking about it.

**Side Notes:** His wife is not the same as on tumblr. She is someone else and she isn’t spoken of often. Currently he is not fond of other races, especially elves and humans. (I don’t want to add anything to NSFW in here, but the Fogteeth party will change him)

**Pyretta A. B. Kotori**

**Age:** 31   **Height:** 5’0 **Species:** Human

**Gender:** Female  **Sexuality:** Pan/Demi

**Build:** Chubby, curvy, voluptuous (she plus sized and soft)

**Appearance:** Short and round is a shape right? Pyre is the opposite of thin model chique. She has more junk in her trunkular region than anyone would know what to do with and tig ass bitties. (Her boobs get there on time, she is 15 minutes late) In all seriousness she is soft and squish. All curves and roundness. Hair is purple and past her ass but she wears it up about 90% of the time. It is a big deal if she takes it down in front of someone. Her eyes are an amberish gold but she wears sunglasses most the time, and her regular glasses at home.

**Body Mods:** Tattoos and lots of them. Despite her mixed heritage her skin is pale so color really shows. She also has several piercings.

**Personality:**  Have you ever been mommed so hard you thought you forgot mother's day and it’s November? Yeah that is Pyre. She is a kind soul, almost to a fault, but kind people are not born kind. Kindness is forged in the fires of pain and suffering and she has suffered. She just never lets it show. She has a dry wit, a wicked sense of humor and a dirty mind. Unfortunately she thinks very little of herself and is completely self sacrificing to the point of it being detrimental for her health. She has taken a bullet for some random orc kid in an alleyway, and she will take one for you.

**History:** Don’t ask too much about her past, you wont like the answers. It is dark inside and she does her best not to show where that darkness came from. All anyone knows is she was living in NYC before an abrupt move to LA, though when she gets angry a southern twang hits her voice so it is clear NYC was probably not where she was born.

**Side Notes:** This is a shameless self insert character and I don’t care. I wanted to add more here but I wasn’t sure if I was over doing it.

**Verathandra Taledras**

**Age:** 137  **Height:**6’1 **Species:** Elf

**Gender:**Female  **Sexuality:** Uncertain

**Build:** Lithe, flexible, strong. A gymnasts body with more feminine curves.

**Appearance:** Vera is tall, lithe, and gorgeous. She looks just like a perfect elf should look, except just slightly to the left. There is something in the way she dresses, the way she carries herself that is distinctly unselfish. She has long pure white hair with a red streak down the front. Most of the time she keeps her hair pulled up into a professional bun. She keeps her nails long, and has several aesthetically pleasing body modifications. Her eyes are a bright violet with flecks of silver.

**Body Mods:** She has several ear piercings and wears a chain on one ear. Her tongue is pierced and she has a delicate, tasteful, and lovely little tattoos on her face at the side of each eye and down by her jawline. She may have more tattoos and piercings elsewhere but they would be covered (hint: she is a freak)

**Personality:**  Vera is subversive at her core. She will do anything she can to make other elves miserable, without anyone knowing it is her doing it. Outwardly she is cold, almost indifferent to others. She has to wear this mask to keep doing what she does. Inwardly she is fueled by the raging fires of injustice. She sees how the world is, how others are treated. Her life of privilege horrifies her and she cannot allow it to continue. There is a softness, a kindness to her that almost no one sees. She is desperate for love, but knows she can’t have it.

**History:** Vera was born into one of the most notable of Elven families in New York. She lived upstate through her youngest years but has moved around. Her past has some dark patches that shaped her into who she is now. She fights for those that cannot fight for themselves, but she does it from a place of anonymity. To keep her fortune, her power, no one can know what she really does with her money and influence.

**Side Notes:** Leading such a stark double life has lead to a severe personality disorder. One that Vera medicates the wrong way.

[mysnarkyslytherinsecret]

Hey! Your writing is brilliant and your portrayal of Severus is spot on! Writing such a complex character mustn't be easy, so congrats! I was wondering if you could write Severus struggling to confess his feelings for his SO (it can be Hermione, if it's easier for you to write the scene with her). Let's face it, he would be so freaking nervous and cute while trying not to make a stuttering fool of himself! I just want to read a oneshot about that :-) PLEASE and TY

Severus forced himself to look into the mirror and attempted to smile at himself.

“Ugh,” he muttered, a scowl creasing his forehead several times over. “That’ll never do. I look like a creep.”

He did not say like a fool, but then again, self-evident things did not need to be said aloud.

For as long as he could remember, Severus had gone through extreme lengths to retain his dignity and gain the respect of others, but it seemed that Fate had other ideas.  There was, however, only one thing that he hated more than being seen as foolish or disrespected.

“No. I refuse to be a coward,” he said to his reflection. “Today I shall tell her.”

Hermione Granger had been scarred and traumatized at least as much as the rest of them, but she endured.  Flourished, even. But tragedy had its way of striking.  She’d been set to marry the youngest Weasley boy when he’d died heroically protecting a school bus full of muggle children from a rogue Death Eater’s explosive curse magic.  Not two days after the funeral she’d just thrown herself even more tirelessly into her work, writing papers on Transfiguration on the side and publishing them, much to the delight of the Transfiguration community, which hadn’t seen this much activity since the 1800’s. As Minerva had grown older and more comfortable in her Headmistress duties, she’d been thankful to give Hermione as much extra work as her heart desired.  She’d been promoted from Transfiguration professor to Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress in slightly under a decade.

Tonight would be her thirtieth birthday, and Severus knew that his luck would only hold out for so long before someone finally came along and snapped her amazing arse up and rode off into the sunset with her or whatever horrible cliched metaphor his brain had decided to trot out to the forefront of his imagination each day.

He hadn’t meant to fall for the brazen Deputy Headmistress, but then again, he hadn’t expected to survive, much less return to Hogwarts.  Minerva still ruled the roost as Headmaster, but as soon as she’d found out about his postwar dire straits, she refused to leave him alone until he’d returned.  He wasn’t exactly a professor any longer- a former Advanced Potions student from Hufflepuff, Vivianne Tempson was an exceptional Potions Mistress, but she was also gifted in the art of teaching.  It was an art, Severus supposed, one that he’d never had much talent for.  

Had he not been forced to stick around due to finances and the fact that even with his name cleared, he was still largely despised by the Wizarding World at large, Severus might have moved into a new line of work. But in his mind, that ship had largely sailed.  He’d lived most of his life within the stone walls of Hogwarts castle, and he felt vulnerable anywhere else.

“Pathetic,” he’d mutter to himself on particularly despondent nights.  His dungeon quarters were just as he’d left them, as no one had wanted to live there if they didn’t absolutely have to. They made a perfect place for skulking, which was one of his favorite activities when he had nothing else to do.

After Madam Pomfrey had retired in the south of France, Severus had become, for all intents and purposes, the new Mediwizard.  The truth was, he actually had seventh year prospective medi-magic students run the infirmary as part of a prerequisite for studying at St. Mungos, and he only ever really consulted in on dire cases, which were few.  Instead, he mostly spent his time in his lab brewing various potions and experimenting on more potent blends. This was just fine with him. He didn’t have to subject himself to the inanity of whining students, and the students did not have to be subjected to his abrasive personality.  He filled in for the odd class here and there- Severus knew pretty much all of the classes by heart and could substitute on a moment’s notice, though the students often dreaded these days for the same reason that Severus did. He also no longer worked as Head of Slytherin House. That honor went to Draco Malfoy, who’d become the Flying professor after Madam Hooch had retired the previous spring.

Oddly enough, it hadn’t bothered him much to find the halls of Hogwarts filled with professors who’d been his own students. After all, Minerva had been his professor for seven years before she’d become his colleague. It’d taken slightly more than a year before Severus had felt comfortable enough to have a less-than-professional conversation with her, but from there, a close friendship had blossomed.  They’d raged at each other about Albus and his quirky behaviors. They’d spent time developing inside jokes that could instantly be understood by a knowing nod and the quirk of an eyebrow.  But Minerva had always been more like an older sister or a cool motherly sort of figure, not a romantic prospect.

Once again, Severus felt the sour twist of shame in his belly.  He felt like some sort of cradle-robbing pervert despite the fact that he’d never so much as laid a finger on Hermione in an untoward manner.  Of course, he’d helped administer the salve treatment to help Hermione transform back to a fully human body in her second year after her disastrous PolyJuice accident, but none of that had been remotely sexual, and Madam Pomfrey had been attending in any case.  The whole time she’d been in school, he’d had the same irrational protective-yet-irritated frame of mind when it came to anything involving her. She’d stood out in her intelligence and drive to learn more, but that had been completely academic.

Now, though…

Severus thought back to the Thursday evenings in the professor’s lounge where they’d go on for hours and debate back and forth on current events, or new potions versus old standards…anything and everything, really.  It had started a few years earlier and become something that Severus looked forward far too much for his own good.

Not that he’d allow himself to admit that to anyone.

On top of that, she’d invited him to help her with a new brewing project she’d been working on to reduce the symptoms of those affected by lycanthropy throughout the month. As someone who’d brewed Wolfsbane perfectly for years and had a personal potions lab set up in the dungeons, which was connected to his quarters through a hidden passageway, Severus had been all too happy to offer her the space.  At first, they’d worked at separate sides, but she’d come up with reasons to disturb him, to brush against him…to…Severus shook his head.  No. It was all in his head…but then again…what if it wasn’t?

It was Saturday morning. She would probably be in the lab already, as he’d given her the password to the armor that guarded the door to his lab.  Rather than go around, Severus decided to take the secret passageway from his quarters, if only to get a bit more time to himself to decide on whether he was going to put everything on the line just to confess his ridiculous, traitorous feelings.

Severus was an expert at suppressing his feelings, but this was different.  It was impossible for him to deny how she made him feel.  His heart ached when she said his name.  No amount of occlumency could keep his shields up when she looked up at him with her amber eyes and smiled in that confident way that made her eyes crinkle a bit at the corners.

Oh, how he craved that smile.

Severus came through the swinging bookcase, his head still filled with anxiety, and nearly barreled full-tilt into Hermione, who was in the process of putting on a thick pair of rubber gloves.

Severus let out a yelp just as Hermione turned and squeaked in surprise, her leg caught on the edge of the bookcase.  Unconsciously, he reached out and grabbed her as she began to fall and pulled her close against his chest. For a long moment, they both stayed like that- Severus with his arms grasping her tightly and Hermione with her head folded against his chest, her heartbeat slowly going back to normal.

“Severus, I didn’t see you there!” Hermione said, finally, her voice a bit muffled.

Severus immediately released her and took a step back, his face growing hot with mortification. “I…it was…I was late…and…I apologize for manhandling you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione replied with a smile and a shrug. “At least I wasn’t handling anything caustic when you came through.  Where, exactly does that passageway lead?”

“My…er…quarters,” Severus admitted.

“That’s rather convenient,” Hermione said, nodding sagely, “I bet you can come and check on long-standing brews with ease.”

“Yes, that was the intended…er…rationale,” Severus replied, relief washing over him.

“Hey, maybe you could invite me back for a cuppa while I’m waiting for my Lupislazurary to steep,” Hermione said with a smirk. “I mean, you have to admit that the chairs here are murder to sit in.”

“I’d like that.” Severus blurted the words out before he could properly think of whether it would be the smartest thing to say.

“Oh?”  Hermione seemed surprised.

Severus inwardly cringed. Of course she wouldn’t be so impolite as to actually invite herself to his quarters, but he’d taken the words at face value, largely because it would make this whole maneuver so much easier if he could actually figure out if she felt the same way about him.

“You’re welcome to come anytime. In my quarters.” Severus winced. God, he was cocking it all up. “I mean, I’d love to have you-have…tea with you…”

Hermione’s eyes widened and something like recognition filled her expression.

Severus felt his own eyes mirroring hers. “What I mean is…I…”

He was stuttering as she pulled the single rubber glove off of one of her hands with a loud snapping sound reached up to cup his face under the right side of his jaw.  

Merlin, her hand is so soft and warm.  Despite his anxiety, Severus closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

“Ah,” Hermione’s voice was soft, but there was so much wonder in that soft breath of a word, that Severus could feel his pulse begin to race.

“Ah, indeed,” Severus replied, his voice catching slightly as he opened his eyes again and looked at her with a mixture of sadness and longing.

“Oh, Severus, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Hermione said, her voice slightly husky.

“I…am not good with words,” Severus replied numbly, feeling almost as though the words were being said from outside of himself.

Are we really speaking about the same thing?

“I thought…Minerva said…she said you’d never…”

“Never what?” Severus could feel his voice go gravelly as he struggled to swallow the lump that had mysteriously appeared in his throat.

“That no one could compare to the one you lost, so it was a fool’s errand to try,” Hermione said, taking her hand back and looking away from him.

Severus stared at her for a long moment.  And then, a tiny giggle escaped his lips, growing until he was practically roaring with a hysterical, uncontrollable sort of laughter.

“She said that I….Merlin’s pants, that’s…that’s…the most…ludicrous…” he gasped and suddenly he could feel all of the doubt and the anxiety drain from his body as though it had seeped from the soles of his dragonhide boots. It was time. He would tell her. “Hermione…this is how I feel about you.”

Threading his fingers through her wild, curly hair, he leaned down and kissed her.

[sweetnestor]

Stone Cold | october.

university au + platonic + romantic + angst, teamiplier + jack

sequel to: Story of Another Us | also on ao3 | previous chapter

Bella’s song choice: Crybaby by Melanie Martinez

“Why is it so hard to find something decent?” exclaimed my friend, Aria Mercer. Well, I wouldn’t exactly call her a ‘friend.’ More like, ‘I know you well enough to go dress shopping with you, but not enough to tell you my deepest secret.’

We had been going to different clothing stores for a majority of the afternoon. Typically, I couldn’t stay out too long due to sensory overload and panic attacks, but I figured I could pop a Xanax I had secretly stashed away a few months prior. I didn’t like having to take medication on a constant basis, only when I really needed it.

Aria and I were both going to homecoming, and we were lacking in the fancy dress department. One thing we had in common besides the facts that we were both Mexican and from the same home town, was that we were terrible at shopping for clothes. Usually, our other friend (or ‘former classmate’ for me), Sophie Jensen, would accompany us to things like this, but she sat this one out. I knew exactly why, and I didn’t really miss her.

“I know,” I replied, mindlessly shifting through the racks. “I hate too many patterns. Too many sequins, too many colors! Where’s all the black?”

“Ah, you feel me,” Aria said. “I just need a little black dress and I’m good to go.”

“Ooh, speaking of…” I spotted an ashy black-grey color in the rack and grabbed it. I pulled out a black halter top dress with a simple rhinestone pattern at the waist. “¿Que opinas?”

Aria’s eyes looked up and down at the article of clothing. “If you don’t get that dress, I will.”

I smiled and then went to try it on. I had managed to talk Jack into an all black attire. It was the only color I was comfortable in (apart from my hair; black and faded pink ombre) and he felt like it would hint at what was going on on his channel.

The dress went down to my knees, and the skirt was nice and flowy when I twirled. It had enough neck space to where I could pair it with a choker. I definitely wasn’t going to find a better dress solely because I was stubborn and I wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Once I got out of the dressing room, I found Aria coming out of one of the stalls. She was wearing a short, tight, black dress with long lace sleeves. Now, I actually had to stop and stare for a second because damn.

“What do you think?” she asked, practically calling me out on my gaping.

“I-It’s nice,” I said in what I thought was a casual way. “It’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up, but she quickly went timid. “I mean… I lowkey want to grab someone’s attention. Kinda wanna tease them, y’know?”

My heart started to race. Oh god, where was this going?

“C-Can I ask who?” It came out before I could control it.

“Just my ex,” Aria said, sighing. “It’s kinda stupid because like, it’s been like almost a year since we broke up and I also haven’t seen him in months.”

I was mostly relieved, but slightly disappointed.

“Well… have you talked to him lately?” This felt a little personal all of a sudden. I didn’t realize I was on this level with Aria. Then again, I did check her out without even thinking about it.

“No, that’s why it seems dumb,” she explained. “And he’s only going to be here for the weekend, anyway.” Her shoulders slumped as she went back into the stall.

“Pues… compralo de todos modos,” I told her. “Se te mira bien. Do it for yourself. If your ex notices, then good. If he doesn’t, then you’ll still look good, and he’ll be missing out!” And honestly, if I was tipsy and confident at homecoming, I would probably end up being the one taking her home.

She came out of the stall in her regular clothes, dress in hand, and a smile on her face. “You’re right. I’m gonna do it.”

~

When I was back home, looking at my dress option, I wondered. If Aria was trying to capture her ex’s attention, could I do the same? Could I try to grab Mark’s attention? Show him how hot I am and how I’m not his anymore.

I nearly laughed at that thought. Me, Bella Santiago, trying to grab attention? Even worse, trying to get attention from the person who didn’t love me anymore? How unrealistic could I be?

This really was high school. I hated it. Even as an adult, you could still get hung up over your ex and still pine after them. However, if you’re like me, you’ll go through extreme lengths to avoid your ex. Dropping out of YTU was one of those lengths. Taking a hiatus from social media was another. Avoiding homecoming at all costs would be another length, but I made a promise to Jack.

Needless to say, this was going to be difficult. I had to map out the YTU courtyard and plot out escape routes in case I was too close to Mark. I had to find out what kind of drinks would be served so I could forget the crowds of people surrounding me. I had to know who was going to be there so I could figure out who to avoid. It was irrational and insane, but I had to plan everything out.

I had to tell all of this to Jack so he could help me rationalize it, but the month was hectic for him. He was making videos left and right, focusing on the “Antisepticeye” hype. He had much to do with Robin over Skype, which meant that he was spending nights on campus. That also meant he wasn’t here to make sure I ate or slept or actually lived.

I was okay with it. I was okay with eating half a granola bar for breakfast and the other half for dinner. I was practically used to sleeping less than three hours a night, only to sleep through the rest of the following day after taking Jack to school. I didn’t want to bother him with my personal problems, especially while he was so busy. Don’t get me wrong, I liked having him here and it felt good to have a roommate again, I just couldn’t burden him.

In the meantime, I was pacing around my apartment. I had my sad playlist on blast, but I wasn’t crying or lying on the floor. I kept singing and pacing, and then when that wasn’t enough, I went to my keyboard. I attempted to play Stone Cold but 1) I hadn’t played it since I filmed it for my channel and 2) the lyrics were too damn real for me to sing out loud. “I was your amber but now she’s your shade of gold.” Ouch.

Before I knew it, I was walking to the bathroom. Not my en suite bathroom, but Jack’s. I stood at the doorway and stared at the floor. My fingers ran over my sweater sleeve, then over my upper thighs. As I remembered what happened here three months prior, I was almost relieved that the scars weren’t on obvious places, apart from the ones on my wrists. It was easier to hide this from Jack. I didn’t have the heart to tell him what I had done.

I stepped inside and sat down on the floor, bringing my knees to my chest. My breathing was strangely steady, given that I was sitting on what could have been my deathbed.

Who would have been the one to find me, had my neighbor not heard me fall and then call 911? Would it have been that neighbor? Would it have been Mark when he had returned the key to my apartment? How would my audience have found out? Would there have been a funeral? No one would have shown up, except maybe Jack.

I couldn’t leave him. Sure, Jack had plenty of other friends, but I felt guilty having to leave him. I couldn’t tell him that I tried to kill myself. Mark hadn’t told him either, which I was semi-thankful for. What would Jack say if he knew?

He’s the only person who was still in my life. That was both sad and comforting. He was my friend, but how long would it be before he grew tired of me? There had to be a point where he couldn’t handle my depressed ass anymore. Surely he was only my friend because I didn’t have any other person in my life.

The only way I knew how to distract myself from these thoughts was through makeup. Better yet, I went back to my room and set up my camera and lights. Then I grabbed various makeup products from my bathroom. It was October, so what was the only seasonally appropriate thing to film?

“Hey it’s Bella. Today, I’m going to try to do some sort of Halloween makeup,” I explained. “Um, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m gonna do… Maybe something simple like… Harley Quinn.” As soon as I said it, that’s what I wanted to do. “Yeah, that’ll work. Let’s do it!”

Since I hadn’t prepared ahead of time, I improvised with face makeup. Normally I would put a lot of thought into every product prior to filming, but I was trying to create a distraction for myself, and my mind was too foggy to think about anything else.

I used a light concealer in the place of foundation, I didn’t really bother with contouring or highlight. I used glitter shadows for my eyes, which made red and blue glitter fly all over the place.

“Go nuts with Halloween looks, guys,” I said as I dragged the colors past my eyes. “I’m using glittery eye shadow because I’m a slut for glitter. Put your own spin on things. That’s the beauty of makeup.”

At one point I was just getting messy. It was almost obvious that I was being reluctant. Therefore, I felt the need to explain myself.

“I know it seems like I’m jumping the bandwagon,” I said, “but to be honest, I’m not feeling one hundred percent today. I mean, I probably haven’t felt one hundred percent in a while. There’s various reasons behind it… it’s just one of those moods, y’know? Anyway, today was particularly shitty, and this was the first thing that came to me to distract myself. I just sat down and filmed without even thinking about it. Like, I know when I watch this back, I’m gonna think of better alternatives to the products I’m using and things I could have said better, but… Oh well.”

One thing I was somewhat known for was ranting while doing my makeup. I’ve talked about LGBT+ rights, bisexual pride, and plenty of other things while maintaining a sharp wing. For some reason, it was very shocking to the Internet (and by that I mean, mostly men) that I, a makeup artist, was so educated on things going on in the world. I suppose that was because plenty of beauty gurus didn’t speak of things like that on their channels, and most people expected a review/demo of the latest beauty products instead of a lecture on why stereotypes are absolutely terrible.

“You know what,” I said in thought, “let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about those moods. For me personally, it feels more like a mindset than a mood at the moment. I don’t know. I don’t want anyone to worry though - I’m still seeing my therapist, and my friend Jack moved in with me for the semester. I’m not alone, and this is probably just a bad day or something. I’ve been told that talking it out would be helpful, so I’m just telling you guys that I don’t-slash-didn’t feel like being a person today.”

I sighed and put down my blush. Then I grabbed my dipbrow and angled brush and began to fill in my eyebrows.

“Like, I wish I had advice to give,” I continued. “I feel like I’m stuck… Um, okay, I guess talking it out is good. Yes, yeah, that’s a good idea. Anything you got on your chest, let it out in the comments. There’s always gonna be someone there to talk to you. Whatever we’ve got going on in our lives, we’ll get through it together.”

I finished off the look with a bright red liquid lipstick that I then smudged with the back of my hand. Then I put my long hair in two high ponytails, and that’s when I noticed how much my roots were showing.

“Could’ve done a wig,” I said, tightening the tails. “But my hair has some color in it already. And I made this video completely unprepared. And, yes I’m aware I need to dye my hair again. Oh well.”

~

After posting that tutorial, I was practically spammed with ideas for more costumes and well wishes from my followers. I even got some Twitter DM’s from other vloggers, which was shocking to say the least. Why me?

“Hey! Wishing you all the best! You’re a strong person, and you’re loved by many!” -Pamela Horton

“Hiiii, just letting you know I saw your Harley Quinn tutorial and that I think you’re so brave and strong for sharing your emotions and your story with everyone! I’d love to sit down and chat someday!” -Suzy Berhow

“Hey, I deal with anxiety a lot too, I know where you’re coming from! I think you’re really amazing and strong, and I’d love to talk or even collab with you one day!” -Kathleen Fuentes

And even more from other people I secretly looked up to. It was funny that a few months prior, I published a video talking about my coming out process and my anxiety disorder, but my impromptu Harley Quinn tutorial is the one that got a lot of attention. I didn’t really know how to feel about it.

Besides that, I felt inspired and distracted by the amount of Halloween requests. I got superheroes, video game characters, and classic costumes. There was only one, however, that stuck with me, and it was a partner costume. I wanted to do this right, so I had to make several online orders, all rushed delivery. I also had to make emergency trips to Sephora and Ulta, but in the end, we had everything together.

“Hey, it’s Bella!” I greeted to my camera. “Today, I have my friend Jack here, and we’re going to turn into the brother and sister from Melanie Martinez’s ‘Dollhouse’ music video! We’ll be going over hair, makeup, and costumes. And, uh, I’ll link where we got everything in the description.”

“We,” Jack repeated, sounding amused.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Where I got everything. Anyway, let’s get started!”

“I’m excited,” Jack said as I gathered the first few items.

“I’m gonna take off your eyebrows.”

“Oh…”

I looked at him, amused by his reaction. I was already feeling confident about this video.

Using a gluestick, some foundation, and some powder, I managed to cover up a majority of Jack’s eyebrows. He was amazed at the result, and he also laughed at how funny he looked in the viewfinder.

“Oh wait,” I said in realization. “You have a beard! You’re supposed to look like a porcelain doll!”

“I can be a doll with a beard!” he argued.

We shared a look for a few seconds before I rolled my eyes and continued with my work. I applied a very pale, full coverage foundation to make it look smooth and flawless. Then I drew on his new eyebrows with a pencil, much thinner and more doll-like. That alone made Jack look like a completely different person.

“Who even are you?” I wondered. “What have I done?”

“So this is what I look like with normal eyebrows,” Jack said.

I continued on with his face, contouring his face and applying blush. It was coming together nicely.

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez?” I asked him after a while.

“Yeah, you showed my ‘Crybaby,’” he replied. “The whole album, not just the song.”

“Which song is your favorite?”

“Hmm…” Jack went silent for a second before singing out, “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!”

“Oh my god, same! That song is my life! So is ‘Crybaby!’ And ‘Dollhouse!’ And ‘Sippy Cup!’”

“The whole album is your life.”

I finished up with his face, and then things got a little difficult. See, Jack has sensitive eyes, and he wasn’t used to the pains of makeup. It took a good ten minutes to apply white eyeliner to his waterline. Adding false lashes was even harder because he kept blinking and squeezing his eyes shut. After getting them properly glued on, I styled his hair. A side part and some gel put the whole look together.

“Okay, so wait until I’m done with my makeup, and then we’ll put on the costumes,” I told him once I was finished.

My look was a bit more complicated. It was a cut crease eye look with a whole lot of glitter. I had to draw my lips a certain way, and add freckles to my face. Then I had to put my hair into tight curls and add a ridiculously large white bow on top.

The costumes were the icing on the cake. For Jack, he had a white button up, black suspenders, a black bowtie, and black dress pants and shoes. I wore a pink sailor dress, knee high socks, and black and white oxford shoes.

Then I set up the camera and lights facing a wall in the living room so I could get full body shots. Jack stood against the wall, hands in his pockets.

“Keep your face blank,” I told him. “Channel your inner angsty teen.”

He pretty much scowled. I made the same face when it came to my solo shots. Then we stood next to each other, hoping that we looked cute, but creepy.

“We look so fucking cool,” Jack said after a while. “I can’t believe you knew how to do all this. Actually, I can, ‘cause you’re Bella.”

I chuckled, but I did appreciate his words. I couldn’t ever leave him.

_______

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