#Emil is trying to be stern

[enlitment]

The Voltaire-Rousseau Beef aka V v. JJ part III.

for @stars-in-the-night , @headsinsand and other great (and amazingly patient) readers

part 1 ; part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

7. THE ORPHANAGE (to be read in Eliza Hamilton's voice)

The one thing from his personal life that Rousseau is probably best remembered for is the fact that he gave up all five children he had with his long-term partner, Thérèse, to a Parisian orphanage. One after the other, in what could be called a rapid succession, a simple case of salut and adieu.

The reasons he gave for his behaviour differ from ‘I have fallen with a bad crowd in Paris and this is just what people around me did’ and ‘I basically had no other option anyway’ (not true, he could have married Thérèse and try to make it work. Sure, money was tight, and someone could make a few snarky remarks about the first baby looking surprisingly big for a six-month old or whatever, but these things happened quite regularly. Also, Diderot married his working-class mistress despite his father’s stern disapproval. Just saying) to – now this comes up somewhat later in the Confessions and is significantly darker – ‘I really hated Thérèse’s family and thought it would be better to let my kids be raised by the state than be around them’.

If this was him trying to break a cycle of generational trauma though – perhaps one of the side of his own family as well –  I’d argue there were far better ways of going about it. There’s also potentially one even darker, quasi-psychoanalytical reason for this now infamous choice, but it’s probably best to steer clear of Freud. Nothing good usually comes out of it.

Of course, doing something like this would make anyone seem like a douchebag, but a guy famous for writing a treatise on how to best raise children?* Guy who repeatedly argued that the single purpose of a woman’s life is to be a mother? Now that’s a hypocrisy so deliciously juicy that one simply cannot resist sharing it with the world!

*interestingly enough, he insists in the Confessions that he wanted to reveal this information in his On Education (aka Emile), and that in one of the book's passages, he alluded to this episode in such a way that he ‘basically confessed to it already’. I haven’t found that part yet, and I remain somewhat sceptical about whether this is truly the case.

8. SECOND INTERMEZZO: VOLTAIRE THE AVID HATE-READER

V on Julie, or the New Heloise: „silly, middle-class, dirty-minded and boring“

V on Profession of Faith of a Savoyard Vicar: „I read his On Education. These are reasonings of a stupid nurse in four volumes, of which forty pages directed against Christianity. They are among the most daring that have ever been written, [but] by virtue of inconsistency worthy of this head without a brain and this Diogenes* with no heart, he uttered as much abuse against the philosophers, as against Jesus Christ.“ (letter to Damilaville, 1762)

*calling JJ ‘Diogenes’ was definitely a trend in the 1700s, and what seems like V’s go-to insult for him. Calling him a ‘lackey of Diogenes’ does potentially get a bit kink-shame-y though...

9. A MOUNTAIN AND AN AVALENCHE

The last post featured an earthquake in Portugal, now get ready for a distinctly Swiss natural disaster!

To be perfectly fair to Voltaire, although he was certainly not a person who was above spreading gossip, he did have a good reason to publish what he knew about Rousseau and let all hell break loose, since...

in Rousseau’s Letters Written from the Mountain published in 1763, JJ had exposed Voltaire as the author of the infamous Sermon of the Fifty, an anti-christian work that had the potential to get its author into serious trouble. Voltaire could not and would not let this slide – especially when he had the perfect weapon on his hands. Payback time!

Voltaire therefore went on to publish a short anonymous pamphlet titled Sentiments des Citoyens (aka How Citizens Feel – since JJ proudly called himself ‘citizen of Geneva’ in his works and he championed sentiments over reason – see, it’s all very clever!) in which he exposed details from Rousseau’s personal life. This of course included the most shocking, most hypocritical, and most memorable detail of all: Rousseau, Mr. Family First, Mr. Let’s-raise-precious-children-in-a-way-that-won’t-corrupt-their-natural-godness had dumped all of his offspring into a Parisian orphanage! Not so virtuous now, is it?

Interestingly, Rousseau never put two and two together and realised Voltaire was the real author of the fateful pamphlet. It would be interesting to see how he would react had he known.

That said, much like d’Alembert’s article on Geneva a couple of years earlier, the Sentiments des Citoyens led JJ to pick up a pen once again to do what he did best: to defend the poorest and most oppressed souls against the cruel and unjust world. Which usually just happened to be himself.

And thus, as Roger Pearson, an author of one of Voltaire's many biographies concludes:

“we have Voltaire to thank for (…) being the catalyst of Rousseau’s Confessions” which he calls “one of the world’s great autobiographies”

(no, not like that @chaotic-history. Though now I cannot unsee it every time I read the quote)

->

Tune in next time for the (mis)adventure in Britain which will feature:

another philosopher - David Hume - dragged into the mess

a fake letter from Frederick the Great (that was actually penned by the most messy gossip of a person in the 18th century)

a genuinely funny statue story with an appearance from d'Alembert

[ch6douin]

I’m glad you liked my drunk player showering plushies with kiss kiss ideas. Now i give you one more before I disappear into the night. Plushies giving player a “kiss” (just the plushies smooshing their face on players face, maybe even a hand kiss of its a more gentlemanly plush, jose plush I feel, most of the hunter plushes, maybe frederick, so many possibilities)

Andrew happening to walk by before noticing you kneeling down before his plushie self, he hides himself to watch this interaction. Andrew plushie keeps motioning the player forward as if to tell them a secret. And as players face is right there, it hesitates before summoning all the strength its little plush body has, and “kisses” you on the cheek. Startled, player moves back, before probably giving a gentle laugh and giving plush Andrew a lil forehead kiss. Andrew is kept awake at night by this, especially by player’s reaction.

Naib’s plush gives gnight kiss kiss. I imagine Naib, who’s probably still wary, would probably always be having an eye on player, so he doesn’t trust the plushie either; just cause its ugly in a cute way (kinda) doesn’t meant it doesn’t have malicious plans. Even if the player isn’t responsible for the game, they could still possibly be apart of the reason they arent able to leave. Still probably witnessing a peacefully sleeping player and Naib’s plush giving them a lil “kiss” on the lips has him stone faced but the red is starting to appear on his cheeks and tips of his ears, each time he witnesses it he gets a bit more relaxed cause players not doing anything suspicious. Still probably suspicious tho.

Emil and ada’s plushies give each other kisses. Player is often awing at the way they express their love to each other. They probably dont kiss player much but will take players hands to give player little finger kisses. These two plushs are one of the few that hang out with their survivor selfs a bit more than hanging around player. They melt ada and emils hearts everytime they see them.

Mikes plush does a LOT. Fucking plush will be on like a chandelier and player is speaking to another when suddenly the plush has jumped and done smooshed its face to player. It gives player a heart attack every time which is why its not done often. He probably will just jump on player relaxing to give a lil cheek kiss before back flipping away. Mike is both trying to stop it but also giving it more ideas.

Soul weaver plush is also kinda like mike in giving player a lil kiss in a big way. Im talking this lil plush can spit webs. Why? Because I said so. So players gonna get some web spit kisses at the most random times. Plush weaver can and will climb on you to perch on your shoulder just for a better angle to give you some regular kiss kiss or another wen spit kiss. Soul weaver herself is pretty bashful about it and plush weaver is given a stern talking to by her for every incident.

Enjoy my brain dump hope you like this one too

Thank you anon this is adorable you have my mind working with these. (Plushie!Andrew having more game than the actual Andrew is SO FUNNY btw.)

Not all of their plushies express their adoration towards player only by kisses though, Plush!Norton is often gifting you pretty-looking minerals and rocks to have your attention solely on it, and then, trying to use its small magnet to pull you towards it for a cheek kiss(it doesn't work). You think that maybe its counterpart is helping behind the curtains...

Plush!Emily is always at your disposal, if it senses you're not feeling well you can bet its grabbing the edge of your clothes and trying to drag you towards the Nurse's Office so the real Emily could help you. It gives those forehead kisses like a mother would, you know?

Plush!Luca with that eternal toothy smile of it zapping you playfully and running away before you react. Until it finally gets lifted by its collar and its next move is to swing towards your face and smash its own on your cheek. Other than that, Plushie!Luca is more often seen with the actual Luca who finds the plushie so intriguing and interacts with it a lot. It's so much easier to work when he has some help.

Plush!Anne is always seen with its counterpart too, Anne is so pleased to have this adorable company that she makes an exact copy of her glider and a catapult. You can see it gliding around often, dropping by your shoulder sometimes and giving the tiniest kiss to your cheek before gliding away as fast as it can.

Plush!Edgar is not really what you could call social, but its curiosity is piqued whenever you do something that involves art. This is when you see it at the most, demanding you put it on your lap or a nearby chair so it can tug at your clothes whenever it considers you're doing something wrong. Edgar checks his plushie now and then, after all, it cannot taint his reputation while using his face. It's not surprising though that Plushie!Edgar is just like his counterpart when guiding you through the process of making art, and that leaves Edgar with a satisfied smile. No, I don't think it would kiss you, let it be enough that you earned its attention.

Plush!Frederick is anywhere music is, walking around with elegance that a few plushies lack. It will seek you out though so the two of you can appreciate the beauty of music, and then, thank you with a kiss on the back of your hand. I'm not sure but I don't think it stays a lot with Frederick, so you won't see them together a lot.

Plush!Mary is hard to please, of course. She still likes to assert the composure of a Queen. Share with her desserts, dance with her, gift her cute ribbons and other accessories, and maybe, just maybe she'll kiss you.

PS: I was going to put Tracy or Martha too but i got lazy at the end plus I didn't know exactly what to write 💀

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Haunted

The EMH heaves a beleaguered sigh when the ship’s biosensors activate him. Hands in pockets, he struts to the origin of the alarm and stops in front of the Captain’s cabin where he straightens and takes a fortifying breath. More out of self-protection than out of courtesy, he pushes the chime button on the door’s panel to announce his arrival rather than overriding the system and storming right in, as the emergency protocol would warrant.

What can it be this time?

While he waits for a response, he analyzes the biosensor readings for a preliminary diagnosis. The Captain’s life isn’t in immediate danger; none of his vitals telegraph a severe injury or illness, but his heart rate and blood pressure are off and–

Oh.

The Captain’s blood alcohol is 0.28 %.

From inside the cabin, the EMH hears a slurred, angry voice.

“Go away! L-leave me ‘lone!”

So it’s going to be that kind of night.

For a moment, the EMH considers his options. Options he doesn’t really have since his hippocratic programming doesn’t leave him any; he’s bound to Star Fleet’s Medical Code, hologram or not. If the ship’s computer reports a medical emergency, he has to respond, even against the patient’s will.

But if he wasn’t a medical officer, and if he wasn’t a hologram, he’d turn on his heel now, evading the Captain’s intoxicated wrath and leaving him to deal with his straining liver, neurological impairment and bubbling stomach acid on his own.

However, he is La Sirena’s Emergency Medical Hologram, and in spite of the challenges that come with the post (and his belligerent and only patient), he is proud of his job, and he intends to execute it flawlessly and professionally. Schooling his features into a stern but non-offensive expression, he disintegrates and re-materializes on the other side of the door, inside the cabin.

He wants to suppress it, but his coding is too strong, and his catchphrase tumbles out of him:

“What is the nature of your emergency?”

The addressee, to his medical dismay, is on the floor by the foot of the bed, half passed out next to an empty bottle of Pisco and trying to bring a second bottle to his lips.

“Go away.”

Rios waves an uncoordinated hand at the EMH and glares at him with dark, blood-shot eyes. With scientific curiosity, the hologram notices that, even on his arse and sagging against the bed, Rios is swaying.

The EMH’s processor lights up with a quick, silent alarm, and numbers flash red across his the hologram’s internal vision.

Blood alcohol 0.3%

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Emil replies calmly. “Your intoxication has reached critical levels and requires medical intervention to prevent-”

“GO AWAY!”

It’s more of a growl than a scream, and followed by a string of Chilean expressions even the universal translator can’t decipher, and the EMH is used to such verbal abuse by now, but the dangerous spark in the Captain’s eyes that comes with it shuts the hologram up.

For 3.2 seconds.

“Apologies, Captain, but I’m afraid I can’t. Your level of intoxication has reached critical limits, you’re severely dehydrated and your neurological function is-”

“THEN MAKE IT STOP!”

Although holograms don’t need to blink, the EMH does. Surprised, he looks at the Captain who has now turned his face fully to him. Starlight softly illuminates the otherwise dark cabin, and Emil spots silvery tracks on Rios’ face. The rage in the Captain’s eyes shifts to desperation.

“Can you make it stop?”

An unguarded, brittle question that makes no sense to the EMH, and his processor rattles in alarm. Quickly, it runs through psychiatric and neurological assessment algorithms.

“Make what stop, Captain Rios?” he then asks softly.

New tears falling, Rios’ eyes flicker from Emil to the darkest corner of his cabin, and his pupils dilate in terror.

“Him.” A frightened whisper.

The EMH adjusts his night vision to the highest setting and scans the shadows Rios is staring at. There’s no one there. No one that he can see.

But it’s clear that Rios can.

“Who are you talking about?” Emil asks.

Rios blinks and then, agonized, he looks back at the EMH. Secrets swim in his eyes. Secrets that are clearly spilling out into the night. Delusions, Emil’s processor analyzes. Ghosts, the part of him that’s observed Rios for months suggests.

Whatever is haunting the Captain must be connected to the odd blanks in the EMH’s memory database and the haphazard deletion all of the Emergency Holograms have experienced. They’ve tried to solve this riddle, to no avail.

“Please?” Rios asks pleads again, face contorted in pain. “Can you make it stop?”

“Yes.” With a silent command, the EMH summons a psychiatric emergency kit. “Yes, I can.”

He takes a hypospray out of the case and loads it with a heavy sedative. He expects resistance when he holds it up, but the Captain offers him his neck, pressing his eyes closed, ready to not see anymore. It’s unsettling.

The hologram administers the sedative and drops into a quick crouch as Rios sags sideways. Efficiently, Emil hoists his body onto the bed and turns him on his side. He’d rather have the Captain in Sickbay for monitoring and microinjections, but, from past experience, he knows better than to push that far. From what he’s seen tonight, Rios is going to need him in the weeks to come, and Emil cannot do his job if he’s getting wiped from the mainframe in a bout of post-crisis hangover rage.

Instead, he settles the Captain as best as he can and administers another hypospray cocktail to ensure that Rios will get through the night safely and dreamless. He rigs up a mobile monitoring system that he’s cobbled together a while ago with Ian’s help, during another of Rios’ bad nights. Then he settles into Rios’ desk chair.

His gaze wanders to the starboard corner of the cabin. His internal processor shudders in an imitation of human goose flesh.

They will need to figure out what’s causing the Captain’s breakdowns.

They will have to, or it will kill him.

[mywifeleftme]

107: Nina Simone // Black Gold

Black Gold Nina Simone 1970, RCA Victor

Black Gold is one of the great live records. It’s from an era when a live album was meant to simulate a complete evening at the thee-AY-tur with the artist, which in this case means retaining a lot of Simone’s stage patter, band introductions, little whoops and hollers from the audience between. That’s not a very streaming friendly approach, but with an artist of this magnitude, captured at her peak, what you want is that simulation of completeness, of being there. And in these six songs, each of which stretches past the five-minute mark, you get that and more.

“That took everything out of me,” Simone gasps after one song, and from the weight of her breaths, and the time it takes her speaking voice to recover, you believe it. Elsewhere she speaks of a grief at the loss of a friend (Lorraine Hansberry) that has mounted rather than ebbed with time, muses on the nature of time itself, prays for the uplift of 22 million American Blacks while cheekily hoping at least a million of them buy her latest single. When she sings she never sounds anything less than in perfect command of her instrument, but it’s hearing the weariness after, the momentary confusion, that gives the performances on Black Gold the quality of some primal source being tapped through one woman’s frail flesh.

Simone’s combo is a marvel, anchored by percussionists Don Alias and Jumma Santos (lately of Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew sessions); Weldon Irvine, the prolific composer and long-time organist in Simone’s band; guitarists Tom Smith and Emile Latimer; and Nina herself on the piano. Though she was not hostile to pop music (her next studio album was named for a George Harrison song), I’ve always found her playing to have an uncommon rigour to it, a rhythm somewhere between martial music and gospel. There is never any doubt who is calling the shots. But within those stern bars she concentrates such intensities of feeling that the effect is paradoxically transcendent, spiritually liberating. This is the quality that led her to be dubbed not the Queen of Soul, but the High Priestess. “You gonna use up everything you’ve got trying to give everyone what they want,” she says at one point. So, instead, she gives us what we need.

107/365

[gruesomejack]

"Emile-!" The name was a broken pant off nearly bruised, bite-swollen lips. Will was arching off the bed while the man between his thighs was tongue deep in a spot he'd never imagined anyone would long to be. "Em- Oh!" The wet muscle had pressed so beautifully against the sensitive spot inside him, sending a hot shock up his spine and filling his head with stars. His thighs were blooming with black and blue, the imprint of hungry jaws set deep into his skin. There were matching marks on his chest, his neck, his arms-- Even on the corner of his jaw, the cowboy had set his teeth in and made his territory known. He wouldn't be able to go downstairs during the daytime for a few days, not unless he was eager to meet his sister's scrutinizing gaze.

A whine slipped past his lips as Emile pulled back, but before he could protest, a heavy, calloused hand had grabbed him by the cheeks. He could feel the sweet pain burn in his cheeks as his eyes shot open, wide blues meeting hot, half-lidded brown.

"If you keep yellin' you're gonna get us caught." The words were stern, the expression on Emile's face daring and drunk on the atmosphere they'd built between them. "You don't want your older sister to find you ridin' my lap with tears in your eyes, cryin' for my touch, do you?" Before Will could utter out a response, the cowboy had used his grip to shake his head for him. "Unless you do." He purred, a smile pulling across his lips. "You a pervert, Will? You want an audience to see you get fucked? We could pull back your curtains.."

"N-N-Mm!" Emile's two fingers were in his mouth and without hesitation, he's sucking on them and trying to steady his breathing. He felt the one graze his canine, pricking itself on the sharp point and dropping to paint the sweet blood on his tongue. His mouth watered without shame, lapping and taking the slow drip for everything it was worth. Above him, the other man was wearing a cheeky smile, his thumb tickling the spot under his chin. "That's a good boy."

Emile's free hand was roaming over him now, touching anywhere and everywhere he pleased. His fingers brushed through the soft hair on his chest and flicked against a stiff nipple, while a bright laugh pulled from his lips at the whimper it brought from Will's. Bringing his lip between his teeth, he devoured the man with his eyes, dragging those fingers down his stomach and ghosting along the spot above his cock. He wanted to tease him, but Will was drooling around his fingers and down his chin, watching him with those pretty eyes-- Fuck it. He wrapped his hand around him and started to palm him slowly, his thumb drawing lazy circles under the head.

Will whined around the fingers in his mouth and swallowed hard, his hips twitching up into the attention. His fingers dug into the sheets beneath him and tugged in his frustration. He wanted to touch him too, but Emile had made it clear he wasn't allowed. Still-... He lifted a trembling hand and ran it up the toned forearm stroking at him. Emile's skin was hot and soft to the touch. He wanted more! He wanted-

SLAP.

The hand that had been around him had struck him open palmed across his face. Will choked and his mouth fell slack, his eyes wide as a shaky breath pushed from his lungs. "...What did I say?" The man's drawl was deep and slow and it sent an eager shudder through the vampire's body, his cock twitching against his belly. "D-... D-Don't touch.." Will sputtered around the fingers still lingering in his wet mouth and stared, his lashes fluttering at the stinging warmth in his cheek. He wondered if there was a print, a red outline of where Emile had left his hand. The idea alone was enough to pull a soft whimper from him.

Grabbing his hip, Emile squeezed and pulled his fingers from Will's lips, his eyes watching the shiny line of spit that followed. Propping him up, he spread the pretty cheeks he'd left wet kisses between and pushed a drool-slicked finger inside him.

"Emile! Em- Oh-!" Will automatically rocked down on him, pulling another laugh from the cowboy. Normally he would've waited for him to relax to push in the second, but Will seemed eager and he was desperate to see more of it. The other wet finger was slipped in and he spread them gently, watching the man beneath him whine and writhe. Will sputtered and moaned out and rocked down. It burned, it was tight, but it felt gorgeous-- So gorgeous! Without the prompt, he fucked himself against Emile's palm, his lips parting to let out quick, shaky breaths. His fingers were so thick and pretty and- "A-Ah!"

"Look at you." Emile teased, keeping his hand still as he watched him rut down against his hand. "So desperate." Shifting himself, his other hand moved again, drifting to the vampire's neck. With a firm grip, he wrapped his fingers around him in a threat, but refrained from any squeezing. "You look so good like this..." And he did. Will looked beyond lovely with his red lips and bruised skin, his eyes blown in pleasure. Emile's hard on gave an eager twitch of its own, a slick bead of pre-cum dripping from the tip and onto the bed below them. "You want me to fuck you?" He breathed, squeezing his neck just enough for him to feel it. "Say it, Will. Do you want my cock in you?"

The sound that came from the vampire's throat was desperate and high on attention. He nodded and nodded again, panting from the fingers reaching for that bundle of nerves.

Emile squeezed a little harder and rut himself against Will's thigh, letting him feel the heat. "Say. It." He rumbled, "Say it!"

"YES!" Will choked and bucked, his eyes full of bright and shiny stars. "Please! Please, please! E-Emile! Fuck me!"

With a warm, eager grin, Emile leaned forward and stole his lips for a hard, heated kiss. "Anything for you."

@purposefully-lost

[thisisasupergoodidea]

Whumptober Day 25:

Lost voice

—

continuation of:

day 1: adverse effects

—

“About time you showed up! You don’t usually make me wait this long,” Rogelio remarks upon Emil’s arrival to their weekly meeting, held this time by the main river’s point of confluence with another.

It’s a rather remote destination, not just for Emil but for Rogelio as well- so it was a bizarre choice on Rogelio’s part to have requested it specifically. Bizarre and irksome. Though Emil hadn’t cared enough to challenge the decision when it was first made. He couldn’t have guessed what poor decisions he would be making in the ensuing week.

Hindsight loves to tell its cruel jokes.

He looks around stiffly, unsure what to expect. An ambush? A picnic? It’s a nice enough spot for either one.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Rogelio says, intruding upon his thoughts. “I heard about it from someone in town. I guess I didn’t need an excuse to come here, but… I don’t know. It would’ve felt weird on my own.”

As their eyes roam the surrounding landscape, they meet, and linger. Rogelio smiles awkwardly at him. As if this were anything other than what it always is: the prelude to contention.

Why bother pretending otherwise?

Emil will not be allowing himself to entertain distractions today. He wants this done and over with. Rather than share in this moment of quiet peace, his stern composure harshens and he takes out his slingshot to load it in preparation for the fight. Rogelio watches him with a waning good humor.

“Gee, someone’s in a shitty mood today. What’s up with you?”

He aims his sling and cocks it back. Waits for Rogelio to move first.

“You’re seriously not gonna say a single word to me…? Okay, fine. I get it: I have to make you talk.”

With that, their spar begins. But it’s pure formality, and a brief delay of the inevitable reveal that the reward Rogelio seeks is barred by more than just combat this time: Emil already knows he isn’t going to talk, because he can’t. He’s still healing from the significant amount of internal scarring that drinking that damn potion has resulted in. And as this very day crept closer, with no miraculous relief having occurred, he’d spent an increasing amount of the meantime puzzling out how the fuck he was going to fulfill his promise in this state.

So. Here he is, in the unfortunate position of being voiceless before his arbiter. He is also, circumstantially, a wounded man in close proximity to a major source of magic, one he could avail himself of in order to expedite the healing process… if only he weren’t so stubbornly, excruciatingly opposed to it. His damaged organs take issue with this, of course.

Rogelio dodges left, dodges right, then crouches low to charge and tackle Emil to the ground, angling his shoulder to hit him directly in the stomach. And… that’s the entire fight. Emil is utterly incapacitated before he even fully goes down, the shock of pain shattering him like glass. The subsequent impact, adding Rogelio’s weight on top of that, feels like the closest thing to death he can imagine experiencing while still simultaneously alive. He even blacks out for a few transcendent seconds.

And then everything hits him all over again as life seizes him by the collar and shakes him back into viscerality.

“H-Hey. Dude, are you o-“

Emil finds a sudden burst of strength to shove him off and roll over just in time for a surge of blood, bile, and crusted, fleshy clumps to purge themselves from his body. Rogelio swears aloud in revolted horror. He puts a hand on Emil’s shoulder, presumably trying to help in some way- but Emil’s reaction is one of immediate, violent rejection. A growl, feral and so very painful, tears its way out of him in spite of himself; he chokes on it and pushes out more bloody pieces of himself. His eyes start to water uncontrollably.

There is a little flicker of a flame, warm and strong, that ignites somewhere in his core. Without thinking, he pounces on it and allows it to consume him; the heat works its way up and out from within. It stings, but quite differently from that of injury and acid. Burning away the burn that was self-inflicted.

Pain. Recovery. Life. Promises. Gratefulness- mired in resentment. And shame. Emil burns wholly with it all.

Aching, trembling, yearning, he forces himself to stand, and faces Rogelio again. Paying no attention to whatever the man is babbling about so concernedly. Leaving his slingshot abandoned on the ground. He just stands there, tears on his face. And opens his mouth to speak.

“You win,” he wants to say.

But can’t.

—

[andersunmenschlich]

The Usefulness of Religion When Adventuring

“Look out, Tancred! Lizard people!”

The rogue’s voice was excited—there was little he enjoyed more than a good scrap with the malevolent, scaled creatures that haunted the darker, damper areas of Illalia. Tancred, the group’s leader, was less ebullient. He unslung his greatsword, preparing to draw as he waved the rest of the team to a halt.

“Stay here, Emil,” he instructed the rogue. “If you charge ahead into that defile, the lizards—” Will have the upper hand, he’d been going to say, but it was too late. Whooping delightedly, Emil had already plunged into the shadowed dip in the road.

“I will entreat Eulalie on our behalf,” the cleric declared, and headed off to a large rock that would undoubtedly give him a great view of the upcoming battle.

Tancred nodded and unsheathed his sword.

As he started forward, his final companion made an annoyed sound. “Eeeuugh,” Dave, the archer, said. “Do we really have to go after him? I mean… there’s like six lizard people down there. And he’s always doing this. Do we really have to risk death every time Emil starts jonesing for an adrenaline hit again?”

“David,” Tancred chided. “I hope you are not suggesting we leave a member of our party to face the enemy alone!”

The archer made a face. Tancred gave him a stern look.

“Fiiiine,” Dave groaned, and drew his bow. Satisfied, Tancred turned and continued forward, engaging a lizard person who was about to stab the rogue in the back. “And it’s Dave,” the archer muttered, sending an arrow into another lizard’s eye. “Not David. I keep telling you.”

On his rock, Timothy the cleric knelt with his arms raised to the sky, praying loudly.

“Motherfucker!” the rogue screamed as one of the lizards got him in the thigh with an unexpectedly sharp set of rear claws. Tancred cut off the lizard’s head a second later, but the damage was done.

Four lizards down, two to go. The two remaining lizard people seemed to be considering the merits of retreat. Emil threw one of his daggers at them, and one of them dodged directly into an arrow. “Oh, cool,” Dave remarked to no one. “Thought I was gonna miss.”

Screeching, the arrowed lizard retreated, helped by its buddy.

“Hey!” Emil yelled, pointing. “They’re trying to get back into the trees! Get them before they get away!” He threw another dagger to punctuate his point. It fell short.

The uninjured lizard hissed mockingly. “Fuck you!”

The downed rogue looked imploringly at Tancred. The group’s warrior shook his head, out of breath, using his sword as a support (bad for the edge, but he was very tired).

Timothy climbed down from his rock as the lizards vanished into the shadow of the trees. “Eulalie has granted us victory again!” he proclaimed happily, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead.

“Kinda feels like we did all the work,” Dave pointed out, putting his bow away.

“Nonsense!” the cleric said, smiling beneficently. “Did she not move an enemy directly into the path of your mis-aimed arrow?” Without waiting for an answer, he advanced on the injured rogue, taking on an expression of deep concern. “Your leg!”

“Yeah.” Emil tried to stand and failed. “Fuck! Yeah, it’s all fucked up.”

The rogue’s leg was, in fact, in a remarkably bad way. The lizard’s claws had stripped skin and flesh from the thigh, and he was bleeding freely.

Panting, Tancred sheathed his huge sword and slung it across his back again. “Can you do anything?” he asked the cleric.

Timothy looked grave. “I exerted myself a great deal during the battle,” he confessed, “but I will do my best to obtain Eulalie’s healing for our profane friend.” Kneeling by the rogue’s side (carefully avoiding the spreading pool of blood), he began. “O blessed Eulalie, merciful and kind, grant us balm! O, thou whose love heals all wounds….”

His voice, throbbing with passion and devotion, continued as Dave dug through his pack for clean water, antibiotic herbs, and a packet of bandages.

“O great Eulalie, life-giver, restorer of health—!”

Emil cursed as Dave cleaned and bandaged the slashes on his leg. “It’s too tight!” he complained.

“—grant this man the gift of your supernatural healing—”

“It’s gotta be tight,” Dave told him, packing the med kit away, “to stop the blood. Or else you’ll bleed out, and you’ve already lost a whole lot.”

“Whatever,” the rogue mumbled. “Thanks.”

“—Amen!” Timothy finished triumphantly. “And you’re welcome, but don’t thank me: thank Eulalie.”

Tancred helped the rogue up as Dave scowled. “We should find a place to camp for the night,” Tancred said. “I don’t think Emil will be able to make it to the next town before nightfall.”

“Got that right,” Emil muttered, wincing.

The cleric lowered his flask and wiped a bit of water from his chin. “I am very tired,” he said doubtfully, “but I could pray for Eulalie’s guidance…?”

“No, Timothy,” the warrior told him. “You’ve done more than enough today. Thank you.”

Timothy smiled, looking down modestly.

“David—”

“Dave,” the archer gritted in an undertone.

“—could you scout ahead?”

Dave sighed. “Sure. Why not.”

As he trudged ahead, Timothy the cleric wiped more sweat off his forehead and took another drink. It had been a spiritually exhausting day for him.

—

That night, Emil loosened his bandages because they were “too tight” and he “couldn’t sleep” and he was sure “Eulalie would understand.” He bled to death in his sleep, which was a more pleasant death than anyone had imagined when considering ways in which the rogue was likely to die.

Timothy shook his head regretfully and explained that, while he had done his best, Emil’s profanity had obviously undone Eulalie’s blessing.

Dave pointed out that their last cleric had cast a similar prayer of healing on herself before she died, and she had never used any bad words at all. Timothy sighed patiently and explained that Eulalie called her clerics home when their work in the material world was done. Dave returned that it seemed like people died at the same rate whether Eulalie was invoked or not, and all her clerics did was tell people to feel good about what was going to happen anyway.

Timothy puffed up indignantly, and Tancred broke in to point out that they were literally fighting over Emil’s dead body—could David stop being sacrilegious for five minutes and find something to build a travois so they could bring Emil back to his family?

Dave started to say something about how pretending Emil only died because he wasn’t pure enough for Tim’s fake magic to work on him was more disrespectful to the dead than arguing in Emil’s defense, but was cut off by the cleric huffily asking Eulalie to forgive his blasphemy and Tancred telling him to get a move on and find some decently sturdy wood now.

Neither Timothy nor Tancred noticed Dave went to look for sticks while carrying all of his gear, because the cleric was giving Emil’s dead body last rites, and the warrior was being respectful.

Dave abandoned them in the woods. They never made it back to civilization.

[textingtroublesanswers]

Ha ha, very funny. *Tala said with dramatic sarcasm* If I sleep I'll just sleep in the seat. Slept in more uncomfortable places before. I'd like to not roll off of that while going around any corners

Hmm.. Although trying to sleep and hold Maria is probably not a great idea, I don't think unconscious me is strong enough to hold her from falling, especially not on these potholes.

You do need kids seats back here.

-🦖

"I could hold them both, I certainly have the strength for it. They may get a bit fussy, but I'm not about to let them crawl around on the floor." He boops Emil's nose with a stern expression, making the tot giggle.

[audiofictionuk]

New Fiction Podcasts - 14th December

King of the Egg Cream Audio Drama Based on the incredible true story of Harry Dolowich, who grew up poor in the Lower East Side of Manhattan during the Great Depression and found riches hatching a scheme to take over the one industry that wasn't already controlled by the Mob -- the chocolate syrup industry. Harry's charm, ambition and gift of gab can only take him so far and it turns out being a syrup racketeer ain't as sweet as it sounds. With a killer cast, including Justin Bartha, Lewis Black, Ari Graynor, Michael Stuhlbarg, Bobby Cannavale, Melanie Lynskey, Jason Ritter and narrated by Richard Kind, King Of The Egg Cream is a crime story, love story and distinctly American story, all packed into ten funny, fizzy and delicious episodes. Created by Justin Bartha, Emil Stern and Sigmund Stern. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231117-07 RSS: https://feeds.megaphone.fm/SBP7427435139

The Midnight Zone Audio Drama ‘The Midnight Zone : A Horror Anthology Audio Drama. A gateway to a collection of bone-chilling horror stories. This anthology series explores the darkest and most mysterious parts of our world, promising a suspenseful journey with every listen. If you're a fan of gripping horror narratives, 'The Midnight Zone' is your destination. Turn off the lights, listen carefully and get ready for a fully immersive audio drama experience. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231204-02 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ee6de400/podcast/rss

Comedians In Dungeons Getting Dragons Audio RPG A D&D actual play podcast where a group of diverse comedians try to have fun and not die in a world that’s trying to kill them. It’s like real life but with potions and stuff. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231205-01 RSS: https://feeds.libsyn.com/496283/rss

FOOM Audio Drama Que la inteligencia artificial tome control de la humanidad ya dejó de ser ciencia ficción. FOOM, una audio ficción escrita por Julio Rojas (Caso 63) y realizada por Emisor Podcasting, Sonoro, El Extraordinario, Anfibia y La No Ficción. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231124-04 RSS: https://mdstrm.com/feeds/5c58a34e176c2c0813b22e4b/65550db4c65fe8086db3c596

Remnants Audio Book Remnants is a story about a girl named Freya James and her mission to find her girlfriend, Arwen. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231115-05 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ed2bb25c/podcast/rss

Roll for Impact Audio RPG Welcome to Roll For Impact, where narrative takes the forefront, and the roll of the dice is merely the beginning. Dive deep into immersive worlds crafted with love and passion. Our games aren’t just about statistics or min-maxing; they’re about rich ambient tales, lush aesthetic visuals painted through words, and the soulful threads that weave characters and listeners alike into unforgettable stories. Every episode, our dedicated crew of storytellers and adventurers take you on a journey where the ambiance sets the stage, and the narrative captivates your heart. Whether you’re an avid Dungeons & Dragons enthusiast or someone who just loves a good tale, there’s a seat for you at our table. But remember, here, it’s the story that reigns supreme. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231020-03 RSS: https://feed.podbean.com/rollforimpact/feed.xml

Unknown Adventures Audio RPG Welcome to Unknown Adventures, the podcast where each week i'll embark on a solo RPG journey in serialised narrative-driven episodes. Join me as each season will focus on a different game, telling immersive stories with scripted and fully voice acted sequences, sound effects and music. Between adventures expect a mix of reviews, interviews with friends and industry experts, and discussions about all things tabletop gaming. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231206-01 RSS: https://feeds.acast.com/public/shows/unknown-adventures

Channel Divinity: A D&D Podcast Audio RPG A D&D 5e actual-play podcast where we have fun playing in the homebrew world called Dalgar. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231207-02 RSS: https://feed.podbean.com/channeldivinitypodcast/feed.xml

ForgeD20 Podcast Audio RPG We are TTRPG centered podcast. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231206-02 RSS: https://media.rss.com/forged20podcast/feed.xml

Baron Sordor's Theatre of the Doomed Audio Drama Baron Sordor's Theatre of the Doomed takes you back to a golden age when live radio plays ruled the airwaves and Orson Wells’ Mercury Theatre convinced an entire nation they were under attack by Martians. Paying homage to 1960’s classics like the Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits, The Theatre of the Doomed features performances from a bevy of incredible Australian actors as well as Jeff Martin from The Tea Party as Baron Sordor himself! https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231204-03 RSS: https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2284900.rss

Moksha Audio Drama Mokksh In the serene valley of Dalhousie, Inspector Hardy pursues a relentless psycho killer who preys on children. Haunted by his past and the mysterious disappearance of his wife, Neha, Hardy is driven to protect the valley's young souls, despite facing personal tragedies. Each arrest leads to a dead end, tarnishing Hardy's reputation and resulting in his suspension. CID officer Jagriti takes over but also finds no answers. Hardy's redemption journey begins when he saves Jagriti from organ traffickers, earning back his position. Together, they uncover the chilling truth: Jasmine, the valley's music teacher, aided by witch Pushpa, is sacrificing children to summon her dead son, Manav. Ghattu, Pushpa's eighth son, becomes their key witness. A shocking revelation emerges: Neha was a terrorist, and Hardy's son witnessed a crime that led to his suicide. Ghattu kills Jasmine, revealing the evidence to close the case, and ending the cycle of violence. "Echoes of Remorse" is a haunting tale of love, loss, and redemption. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231128-06 RSS: https://feeds.hubhopper.com/0c281c642d80aa69d84a5c9261c25b17.rss

Elizabeth Quick Audio Drama Elizabeth Quick, living a life of convention and anxiety and the occasional kickboxing class, never believed she was powerful. Then an extinction event left behind a wild new planet, equal parts dangerous and astonishing. Now Elizabeth is in that wilderness alone, searching for her teenage daughter and realizing that, just like the plants and animals she sees evolving in the blink of an eye, she must become someone she never thought possible. Written, performed, and engineered by Daryl Lisa Fazio. Music from Artlist. Selected sound effects from Artlist and Freesoundslibrary.com. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231203-03 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ee6f5fb0/podcast/rss

Nine Powers - TTRGP Actual Plays Audio RPG Enjoy unplanned, kid-friendly, urban fantasy adventure stories created using the Nine Powers tabletop role-playing game! The style and habits of GM Automation enabling my solo play also provide tools, ideas and inspiration for new and/or young GMs. May you enjoy my story, and please steal ideas for your own gaming! https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231208-03 RSS: https://feed.podbean.com/ninepowers/feed.xml

Firelight Fables Audio Book Come and join us by the fire, we have a few tales to tell. From the high seas to uneasy utopian dreams, there are many worlds to explore. So sit back and relax, it's time for a fable or two. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231208-04 RSS: https://media.rss.com/firelightfables/feed.xml

One Shot in the Dark Audio RPG One Shot in the Dark is a D&D podcast focused on exploring fun stories through one shot's instead of ongoing long-form storytelling. We explore new mechanics we as DMs and we laugh a lot together. Each season is its own One Shot made up of several episodes so you don't have to worry about joining late and catching up on 150 episodes to know what's going on. The player characters belong to The Sworn Brotherhood, a band of mercenaries taking contracts across the continent. Some characters resurface across seasons and some are new experiments by the players. Were so glad you're here. https://audiofiction.co.uk/show.php?id=20231211-01 RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/ee93b1bc/podcast/rss

[purposefully-lost]

Emile going out for a drink (or five) a night or so after discovering Will is a vampire??? Emile waddling into Will's room drunk off his ass and poking at his chest, somewhere in between flirty and angry?? VhHNCBCBCV Emile crawling into his bed and giving him a stern talking to before passing out there

DhdhHSSH AMAZING?? Will not wanting to overstep but also very much trying to calm him down/take care of him dhdjSNSJSJ

When Emile passes out he just sort of.. covers him with a blanket and ends up falling asleep at his desk after spending most of the night reading nearby 😔❤️❤️❤️

[eruden-writes]

Hi if you’re still taking requests to break the brain barrier how about an adorable bat inspired monster, kind of like your teeth character, who’s girlfriend goes out of her way to assure him he is very very scary when he’s feeling a little insecure? Just a sweet fluffy couple in love

(I'll address other requests in time. Sorry if it takes me awhile!)

I always question my ability to be sweet and fluffy. 😂 This one is no different.

---

The Terrifying Bat-Man

“Vicki, am I scary?”

The human woman glanced up from the pile of mail in her hand, which she had previously been sorting through, and up to the hulking mass of her partner. Vicki’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand why the seven-foot tall Chiropteran - bat-like humanoid - was even asking such a question.

Emil, for his part, didn’t seem to be exhibiting any troubling body language or illness. No froth at the lips that could indicate a rabies-esque problem. His leathery wings were folded snug against his back and from his profile - since he was staring dismally into a small mirror that hung on the wall - Vicki could tell he was mildly perturbed. Perhaps insecure?

Otherwise, he looked like her Emil, the bat-man who faintly resembled a Giant Golden-Crowned Flying Fox. From a hulking size to the red-blonde to deep brown coloration of the fur that coated his body to his large deep brown eyes that often sat behind thick lenses while in the light, he was simply gentle Emil to her.

She eyed him, one of her eyebrows cocked. “Do you think I’m scared of you?”

“No, I meant-” Emil’s shoulders sagged as he turned to Vicki, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, “You know… Am I fearsome? Intimidating? A sight to behold?”

The corners of Vicki’s lips curled a little in amusement as she narrowed her gaze. “Did your high schoolers tease you for your glasses, again?”

Emil’s lips puckered into a pout, as much as one with a snout-like mouth could. The aforementioned glasses shifted on his wrinkling nose. It had definitely been classroom teasing. Vicki set the mail down on a table and turned toward him, closing the distance between them.

“You are very tall and very large, especially when your wings are unfurled and you stop hunching,” she said, expressing their own size difference by reaching her arms up and then out. Though she could easily encircle Emil’s waist with her arms, touching anything above his shoulders was a feat, even if she stood on tiptoes. As her fingers traced from his shoulders, down his arms, to his hands, she added, “You have claws that could rend me-”

Almost at once, Emil interrupted her. “I don’t want to think about hurting you.”

“Your students?” Her nose wrinkled as her smile took on a devilish angle.

Emil sighed, his voice going deep with unamused sternness, “Victoria.”

“Fine,” she sighed heavily, “my exes then.”

This time, he huffed, caught between amusement and grudging acceptance of the amendment.

“Despite being an absolute nerd, you’re obviously built.” Vicki went on, squeezing at forearms and biceps. The muscles beneath her touch twitched. “Look at your arms and legs! We’ve had this talk before and I still don’t get why you’re so muscular.”

Ignoring the kindled heat Vickia had stoked, Emil started into the tired explanation, “Building the cybernetic prosthetics are-”

“Oh, and you build mecha.” Now it was Vicki’s turn to interrupt, her grin broadening as she poked him in the chest. A bit of a feat, considering her finger sunk into the thick ruff fur there.

“They’re not mecha, they’re cybernetic prosthetics for-” Emil tried to explain again, but Vicki felt on a roll, unable to keep herself from, once again, interrupting her partner.

“Huge members of society,” she finished, waving a hand to indicate she knew the spiel. Although, she knew her painfully simplified terminology agitated Emil. With that same hand, however, she motioned in the direction of their driveway that sat outside the walls of their home. “We literally cannot park our cars in our garage, because you’re fixing a kaiju’s malfunctioning prosthetic arm in there.”

“I can’t bring it inside, due to the size-changing mechanisms short-circuiting-”

“Suffice it to say,” she grinned, watching as Emil’s red-blonde neck ruff flared with irritation at her constant interruptions, “there’s a reason we aren’t at a huge risk of theft with your seven-foot-when-wings-furled to ten-foot-with-wings-unfurled, taloned, giant-robot-making self is around.”

There was a beat of silence as Emil considered what Vicki had said, before he mumbled, “You didn’t mention anything about my teeth.”

“Oh, that goes without saying,” Vicki waved her hand once again, but her smile broadened yet again as she turned a teasing look up at Emil, “Don’t you know the old human saying? ‘Long in fang, dangerous to bang.’”

Emil’s lips firmed into a frown, though Vicki could tell he was fighting amusement. “No one says that.”

“Every human knows the saying,” she insisted, her hands on her hips and that grin still not wavering.

Taking the bait, Emil fished his phone from his pocket and snorted, “I’m asking my human colleagues right now.”

“You do that,” chuckled Vicki, as she took a step back from the bat-man so he could text with ease. She skirted around his bulk, the mischief still evident on her face. Her fingers traced down his back, from his furred ruff that poked out of his button-up to the hem of his shirt and, finally, over the extremely private bump beneath the fabric of his pants.

“What have I told you about my tail!” Emil spun around so quickly, she almost stumbled back from the force of the disturbed air. Strong arms clamped around her middle and she let out a startled, half-laughing shriek. The hold tightened and her feet soon dangled off the floor as Emil picked her up.

“Was that a shriek of horror?” Behind his thick glasses, Emil’s eyes hooded, a smile finally curving across his mouth.

“Utter terror,” snickered Vicki, with a roll of her eyes as she flicked the rim of his glasses.

“Smartass.” That familiar pout puckered Emil’s lips, mingling with the grudging amusement in his eyes. In the next breath, he had buried his face against the crux of Vicki’s throat, eliciting another startled sound from the woman. In a series of brief bites, his teeth chattered against her skin, raking softly enough to not leave a mark. Each little scrape pulled a whiny, breathy sound from Vicki.

“Alright.” He suddenly pulled away, smiling softly at the human still in his hold. “What should we do for dinner?”

Vicki’s legs shifted, curled against his hips as her voice dipped into sensual breathiness. “I have some ideas.”

Emil sighed, shaking his head as an apologetic smile pulled across his lips. “Not tonight. Papers to grade.”

“Damn your students,” Vicki groaned theatrically at the cold dismissal, slumping her head against Emil’s shoulder as he carried her to the kitchen.

Ignoring the melodramatics, Emil continued as if nothing had happened. “So, how was your day?”

“Oh, same old, same old at the ole gossip rag.” Vicki sat straighter in Emil’s arms, only to catch the skeptical look on the Chiropteran’s features. If they had been playing cards, he would have been calling her bluff. “Oh, fine. After finishing ‘Courtney and Krazag, Celebrity Power Couple Lash Back At Rumors,’ I terrorized some billionaires, re-distributed wealth, took out some corrupt cops.”

“Ah, that same old.” Emil nodded, but paused as he inclined a mock-curious look at her. “You don’t think your well-known vigilantism and fanbase would factor into the whole ‘less likely to be a target of home invasion’ thing, do you?”

Vicki snorted at Emil’s extremely kind use of ‘vigilante.’ She was a supervillain as far as the mainstream media was concerned. Though those were owned by the same billionaires she terrorized, so definite biases. However, it was thanks to working class people - and those one-in-a-million police officers that actually wanted to serve the people - that she and her alter ego never got caught. Plenty of average Joes, Janes, and Jackies had covered Red Scare’s escapes. From vendors ‘accidentally’ getting in the way of pursuing cops to civilians on the street motioning Red toward an obscure route to so many more incidents of assistance.

Being a gossip rag reporter helped, of course. Too inconsequential to be award-winning, but nosey enough to always be on the scene. Not to mention rather forgettable in appearance. Which was how Vicki liked it.

“None what-so-ever.” She shook her head vehemently, her voice firm with overconfident certainty. Tilting her head toward him and batting her eyelashes at Emil, she purred, “It’s all you, Mr. Terrifying Bat Man.”

At that, Emil finally cracked. He laughed, dipping his head until his face buried against her throat again. His deep, soft chuckles vibrated through his chest and reverberated into her body as his warm breath tickled her flesh. Vicki’s mischief drained away as a softer, fond smile replaced the grin on her lips. Her fingers carded through Emil’s fur, just basking in the moment until the world would, once again, inevitably interrupt.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

The Stowaway’s Heart - Chapter 13

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description:  Virgil is rescued by selkies after being abandoned at sea and brought back to their pod to recover. Virgil’s poor, gay heart may just explode from how attractive they all  are.

Word Count: 4830

Chapter Warnings: Mild dissociation, Self-Deprecation, Mention of Injuries, Crying, Mentions of Captivity, Mentions of past child abandonment and abuse, Anxiety, Swearing, (let me know if I missed anything!)

-

    “Which would you prefer, Virgil?”

    Virgil blinked absently as his dazed stupor was broken. His arms felt numb as Thomas clung to his chest, wheezing snores passing his lips as Virgil turned his head towards Logan’s voice.

    “What?”

    An amused smile curled at the corner of Logan’s lips as he slowed to a stop in the middle of the dark corridor, pausing to glance at where Emile had tucked himself into Virgil’s side before continuing.

    “Did you hear anything I said just now, love?”

    “I didn’t.” Irritation burned in Virgil’s chest as the haze in his kind refused to dissipate.  “I’m really sorry, Lo. I'm trying. I just can’t seem pull myself togeth—”

    “Virgil, please. Take a breath and relax.” Logan reached out to catch Virgil’s shoulder, halting his movement as Logan gently spun Virgil to face himself and Remus, continuing only when Virgil’s distant gaze focused vaguely in their direction. “You are doing enough. Whatever you can handle right now is enough.”

    “But—”

    “Don’t try and debate with Lolo, Virge. This isn’t an argument you’re going to win with him.” Remus chuckled as he shot an amused glance at Logan’s stern expression. “Your only responsibility is making sure you and those boys get some good rest. I'll take care of your buddy and Lolo will—”

    “Wait.” Virgil dropped Emile's hand to take a step towards Remus. The world seemed to be shift beneath him as he again caught sight of the pale, unmoving expression on Remy’s face as he lay in Remus' arms. “Where are you taking him?”

    Remus’ mustache twitched with sympathy as he watched Virgil’s worried expression turn desperate. “Listen. I don’t want to get your mind going, stormy night, but it looks he took a load of shrapnel to his stomach. Tough guy or not, he’s gonna need a solid patch-up before he’s—"

    “You can’t take him."

    Virgil felt a sinking feeling in his chest at the sound of Emile whimpering behind him. He spun on his heels, kneeling to catch Emile’s arm as he reached for Remy. He could see tears in Emile’s eyes as he guided the kid's attention back to him, careful not to disturb Thomas’ wheezy snores as he raised a thumb to brush a spot of dirt off Emile’s cheek.

    “Look at me, kiddo. Remy’s going to be okay. You know I would never let anyone hurt him.”

    Emile sucked in a shallow breath hiccupping as tears streamed down his face. “W-where’s he going?”

    “Remy’s hurting, Em. He protected you and your brother, but now he needs a little help to feel better.” Virgil glanced up at Remus. “That's what we’re going to do. We’re going to help him. Right, Remus?”

    “That’s right. I’m here to fix him up good as new.” Remus chirped, pausing to flash a reassuring smile as Emile turned a timid glance at him.  “In fact, I'll make you a deal. If you go with Virgil, I’ll make sure he brings you back here to see him as soon as he wakes up. Deal?"

    Emile’s blank gaze lingered on Remy as he reached a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. His shoulders slumped as he nodded and turned back to Virgil.

    “Listen, Em. Remy will be okay.” Virgil offered hid hand to Emile as the kid let out a long yawn. “The only thing you need to worry about is resting. We’ll take care of everything else. Okay?”

    “‘Kay.”

    The kid's resistance seemed to melt away as Virgil wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into a hug. He held Emile close as Logan turned to Remus, gesturing to Remus quietly in an effort to not interrupt.

    “Remus, love. Will you—?”

    “Consider him taken care of, Lolo.” Remus' lip twitched into a sympathetic smile as he backed down the hallway. “Don’t look so down, my beautiful nightmare. Your buddy’s in good hands.”

    "Thank you, Remus. Your efforts are appreciated. ” Logan folded his hands across his chest. His soft smile lingered on Remus’ figure as he watched him disappear before turning back to Virgil. “Virgil, if it is agreeable with you, I would like to get you and our youngest guests settled before I go to update Roman the others on the situation"

    Virgil rose to his feet as he cast a questioning glance toward Logan. “Where are we going?

    “Not far, dearest. I know we have been working on setting up a space for you to call your own, but given the circumstances, I think it is more pertinent to provide a space large enough for all of you to remain together.”

    “I don’t like the idea of him waking up with a stranger, Lo.”

    “Virgil,” Logan's voice remained gentle. “I understand your hesitancy at leaving your friend, but I must urge you to take into consideration what our youngest guests need most right now.”

    “But, Remy—”

    “Your friend will get the best possible care we can provide.” Logan pressed, raising a hand to his cheek. “This is someone you love and I assure you we are not taking this situation lightly.”

    Virgil felt a lump catch in his throat as Emile’s grip tightened on his arm. He paused to stare at the kid as tears brimmed in his eyes.

    “Please, we are not going far.” Logan’s deep voice soothed the volatile anxiety in Virgil’s stomach. He pause to reach a hand to Virgil’s cheek, staring at him with an intense concern in his silver eyes. “The next room down this corridor has enough room for all of you, including your friend once Remus is finished with his care.”

    “Remus?”

    Pride glowed in Logan’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder to where Remus had disappeared. “Treating illnesses and ailments has always come naturally to me, but when it comes to injuries and wound care, Remus’ skill far surpasses my own. Your friend is in better hands than my own.”

    Virgil felt the shock abate as he turned to follow Logan. “I wouldn’t have expected that from him.”

    “Given Remus’ usual disposition, I am not surprised that you would not expect him to take an interest in medicine but his focus on the subject is unmatched by anyone I have ever known.” Logan started to guide Virgil forward into the corridor. “Roman and I have relied on him treating our own wounds for years.”

    “Somehow, it makes sense.” Virgil's shoulders relaxed slightly. “I can’t imagine. I'd be nauseous from the blood alone.”

    “Our differences are what make our relationship stronger, love. We share our strengths as well as our weaknesses.” Logan moved to turn down a dark corner as he rested a hand on Virgil’s back. “This way, please.”

    “Wait.” Virgil held his hand up to stop his soulmate, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he stared into the eerie darkness of the corridor. His grip tightened on Emile’s  hand as he glanced at Logan uncertainly. “Where are we going, Lo?”

    “I already said, love.” Logan seemed to hesitate at the urgency in Virgil’s tone. “We are going to a place where you can rest.”

    “I know what you said, Lo. I'm asking what you mean.” Virgil felt his voice drop as he pulled Emile close to his side, resting a hand over his ear. “They’re human, just like me. I know you have to be careful, but they’re only kids.”

    Logan’s silver eyes flitted to Thomas hanging on Virgil’s shoulder as the realization dawned on him. “You are worried that we intend to keep them in the same manner we kept you when you first came here.”

    An anxious tightness clawed at his chest as Virgil chewed on his lip. “They don’t deserve it, Lo. They’re good kids.”

    “Virgil,” Logan’s voice suddenly felt hollow with guilt as he pulled his hand away from Virgil’s back and turned to him. “I can assure you that thought never crossed my mind.”

    “Then, where are we—”

    “This place once served as an infirmary for the island prison. We tend only to treat this room only as a secondary storage for our medical supplies now but we still upkeep the bedding and linens for situations such as tonight.” Logan’s voice dropped as he pulled his hand back to his chest. “We will not be putting children behind bars. You have my word that we will treat your family with the dignity they deserve.”

    “Thank you, Lo.” Virgil’s shoulders slumped as an echo of Logan’s shame resonated across their shared connection. “I should have known better that to jump to conclusions.”

    “You should not doubt your instincts, love.” Logan crossed his arms across his chest, holding his pointer finger out to stop Virgil’s apology. “I am ashamed that we gave you reason to worry for your loved ones, but I can recognize you are justified in your assumptions.”

    Virgil felt a pang of anxiety at the look of guilt in Logan’s eyes. “You were protecting your family, Lo.”

    “Regardless of our intention, our actions clearly had a negative effect on you.” Logan smiled as he stopped at the end of the corridor. “I want you to know we will treat your family with respect and it seems I have some work to do to earn that trust.”

    Virgil shifted Thomas on his shoulder. His arms were sore from carrying him, but he tightness in his chest started to fade as he looked up at Logan’s soft smile

    “Thanks, Lo.”

    “Remus and I will always support you, dear one. You do not have to bear this responsibility alone.”

    Logan's breath stalled on his lips as he stared at Virgil with adoration in his eyes. His voice filled with warmth as he watched Thomas stir on Virgil’s shoulder, curling tighter into his soulmate’s arms. His gaze lingered as he turned away, picking up his pace as the room opened up in front of them.

    Virgil tipped his head to take in the rows of beds lining the aged as Logan flicked the switch on a gas lamp and it jumped to life. He could make out fresh, grey linens tucked neatly on each of the beds and lines of medicinal supplies stocked on the shelves as he stepped to the bed closest to them.

    Arms aching, Virgil lay Thomas on the narrow bed. He paused to tuck the covers over the kid as he dropped down on the side of the bed, pulling Emile into his lap as he glanced up as Logan made his way back to them.

    “Thank again, Lo.”

    “Of course, dearest. Did you need anything else before I go to see the others?”

    “No, I—” Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat as he ran his hand through Emile’s sandy brown hair. “Remus will let me know when Remy’s okay?”

    “I will let him know to come straight here when he is finished.” Logan whispered with a half-smile. “Get some rest. Okay?”

    Virgil’s tension started to melt away as the rush of adrenaline started to fade and Logan turned to leave. He glanced down as Emile shivered on his lap, blinking before leaning back against the headboard pulling the blanket around Emile’s shoulders.

    “It's just you and me now. How are you feeling, kiddo?”

    Emile shook his head and buried his face in Virgil’s chest as Thomas stirred next to him. The warm light of the gas lamp danced next to him as Virgil rubbed Emile’s shoulder, letting him relax against his chest.

    “Don’t tell me you went and got shy while I was away.” Virgil whispered with a small smile as he rubbed Emile’s shoulder with his thumb. “You were always able to talk to me.”

    Virgil’s teasing smile fell away as a quiet sob escaped from Emile’s lips. The kid's hands curled around the fabric of Virgil’s shirt as he shuddered from the sudden wave of emotion overwhelming him.

    “Hey, now.”  Virgil held Emile close to his chest, letting the kid’s tears seep into his shirt as he cried himself out. “I know this has been scary, and it's okay if you need to cry, but you’re safe. You’re all safe now.”

    Time seemed to slow as Virgil sank back against the bedframe, feeling his exhaustion seep into his bones as he held Emile tight against his chest.

    “I'm so proud of you, Em.”

    Emile hiccupped as he shook his head. “But, Remy—”

    “I wasn’t doing too good when I came here either but Logan and Remus took care of me. He'll be good as new before you know it.”

    Emile’s knuckles went white as he gripped Virgil’s shirt.

    “Talk to me, Em.” Virgil pressed. “What's going on in your head?”

    “A-Are they coming back?”

    Virgil felt a twisting in his chest as Emile’s voice cracked. He paused to brush the strands of hair out of his face, gentle as he rubbed the kid's shoulder. “Logan and Remus? They won’t be back until Remy's feeling bett—”

    “No. I—Not them.”

    Virgil blinked as Emile’s hands trailed along the buttons on his shirt. He fell quiet as his focus wandered and he soothed himself touching the soft fabric and buttons.

    “Who, Em?”

    The kid's hands tugged on his shirt in a rhythmic pattern as he touched the buttons. His focus was absolute as he rocked his body, avoiding eye contact with Virgil. Virgil let out a breath, knowing Emile's attention was no longer on him.

    “Is that helping?”

    Virgil kept his voice quiet as he pointed at the buttons on his shirt. He blinked, watching carefully for Emile’s stiff nod of affirmation. Once the kid managed the small gesture, Virgil redirected his attention to his own being.

    “Are you still okay sitting with me, kiddo?”

    Emile didn’t move. He didn’t even look up as he continued to fidget with Virgil’s buttons. His breath stuttered, his expression verging on panic as he focused on his hands.

    “You don't have to talk.” Virgil kept his voice calm as he watched Emile’s reaction. “But I need to know if you’re still okay with me touching you. Do you want off my lap?”

    The kid's words seemed to lodge themselves in his throat as he closed his eyes and shook his head. His soft hair brushed Virgil’s face as his tiny arms wrapped around Virgil’s chest, refusing to move.

    “I’m sorry the world's given you so many reasons to be scared, Em.”

    The gas lamp next to Virgil’s elbow flickered as he ran his fingers through Emile's hair. He reached over to flick the switch, letting the darkness fall over them as Emile’s head relaxed against his chest.

    “Get some sleep, kiddo. Everything will look better in the morning.”

-

    Virgil stirred from deep sleep at the faint sound of fingernails tapping on metal. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he’d drifted off to sleep, but he could feel Emile had slipped off his lap. The kid was now resting next to him on the bed as Virgil pushed himself upright.

   Dark shadows had deepened in the corners of the room as the hours had doused the torchlights lining the corridors. He could barely make out the blurry shape of a figure in the archway on the far side of the room as his head swayed with the heaviness of sleep.

    “Don’t freak out on me, stormy night. Those kids don’t need to think the boogie man's come to get them.”

    “Remus?”

    “Though I got to say,” Remus’ voice bubbled with amusement as his eyes glittered mischievously in the dark next to the bed. “between the dark circles under your eyes and the extra limbs, I’m not the only nightmare fuel right now.”

    “Shut up.” Virgil groaned as he reached a hand up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “They’re kids, not tentacles.”

    Remus' lips curled into a coy smile. “I prefer to leave the extra lumps to my imagination.”

    Virgil blinked as Remus silently slid around to his side of the bed, patting the edge of the bed at Virgil’s ankles.

    “Is this spot taken?”

    “No.”

    A faint light from the hall illuminated Remus’ smile as climbed onto the center of the bed to face Virgil. His hand rested on Virgil’s legs as he whispered, careful not wake the sleeping twins.

    “I'm not going to give either of these kids a heart attack by showing up in the middle of night. Am I?”

    “I doubt anything could surprise them at this point.” Virgil paused as Emile stirred next to his arm. His voice dropped as he looked up to Remus’ patient smile. “I hate to think what I put them through.”

    Remus smirked as he rested his chin in his hand, leaning on his knees. “You know, the daddy vibe is hot and all but I didn’t take you for a masochist.”

    “I'm serious, Remus.”

    “So am I, stormy. Suddenly, things I couldn’t figure out about you are making sense.” Remus' coy smile widened as he leaned forward. “You've been beating yourself up for leaving them the whole time you’ve been here. Haven’t you?”

    Virgil lips pinched together as he listened to Thomas and Emile's snores. “Thomas was sick and I just left them. Of course, I felt like shit about it.”

    “Listen, if anything like this happened to our dear Pattycakes, blood would be shed but let's be at least a little realistic.” Remus smirked as Virgil’s eyes darkened. “You still look like a light breeze would blow you over. You can’t blame yourself.”

    “I still don’t have like it.”

    “Course you don't.” Remus’ lip curled into a knowing smile as he rubbed his thumb along Virgil’s knee. “It ain't easy to admit there wasn’t a way you could have protected them, but it's still the truth.”

    Virgil chewed on the inside of his lip as he glanced down at Emile. He'd slid off Virgil’s lap as he'd drifted off to sleep. The kid had wedged himself next to his brother, wrapping his arms around Thomas' shoulder as if needing to know his brother was still there.

    “How's Remy?”

    “I was wondering when you were going to ask.” Remus leaned his elbows on his knees as his grin widened. “Can’t believe you been holding your hot dad friend out on Lolo and me.”

    “He’s not their dad.”

    “Huh?”

    “Remy’s their brother.” Virgil muttered, leaning forward as Remus glanced curiously at the twins. “Even if he basically raised them.”

    Remus raised an eyebrow at Virgil. “Alright, you got me. I wasn’t expecting that twist.”

    “Remy's mom dropped him at the home where I lived when he was a teenager. They were barely toddlers when we aged out and took them in.” Virgil shrugged, his voice dragging as exhaustion weighed on him once again. “They couldn’t live with their mother anymore, especially Thomas. The kid doesn’t handle stress well.”

    “I'm sorry, Virgil.”

    “It’s fine. I—”

    Virgil’s throat closed up as his emotions surged to the surface. The overwhelming storm in his mind stopped at the lump in his throat. He didn’t know however much longer he could keep this up.

    “Alright,” Remus’ toothy smile showed in the dark as he carefully slid off the edge of the bed. “Slip your sweet ass out of the blankets, Doom and Gloom.”

    “Re—”

    “Get up already and don't you dare wake those kids.”

    “I can’t leave them, Re.”

    “I never said anything about leaving.”

    “But—”

    “Virgil.”

    A silence hung between them as Remus held his hand out to him and Virgil could feel guilt twist in his stomach at the thought of leaving Emile and Thomas, even for a moment.  In the end though, the warmth of Remus’ grip was enough to melt his resistance away. He slipped out from under the blanket, moving carefully as Remus led him out into the corridor.

    “So, what are you—”

    Virgil’s breath stopped as Remus pulled him around the corner and into his arms. The light of a torch nearby flickered as the last of Virgil’s resistance withered away. He leaned into Remus' chest, wrapping his arms around his soulmate’s chest.

    “Your friend’s going to be okay. He's patched up real good and getting some rest.” Remus whispered. “And those kids—We're going to make sure they’re taken care of. You can count on it.”

    “Remus—”

    “I'm serious, Virgil.” Remus let out a sweet chuckle as he let Virgil lean into his support. “Whatever thoughts you’re torturing yourself with aren’t  worth the energy. However they got here, they’re safe now.”

    “I know.”

    “Lolo and I are going to help you do whatever it takes to make them feel safe again.” Remus' arm tightened around his shoulder,   grounding Virgil with the reminder of his soulmate’s gentle strength. “It’s all going to be okay.”

    Words stalled at Virgil’s lips as he leaned his forehead into Remus’ shoulder. The tension vanished from his body as Remus' fingers traced his temples, following his cheekbones until his fingertips ran through Virgil’s hair. His soulmate’s delicate touch made Virgil’s breath stutter.

    In Remus' arms, Virgil felt safe. He thought of Patton and knew Thomas and Emile would be treated with the same care and attention. Remy would be given the same unconditional access to the selkies’ resources that he himself had been given. He could feel in his bones that Remus would make it so.

    Virgil’s body had nearly relaxed entirely when a pair of voices echoed from the stone walls behind him. His tension returned immediately as he realized there was one person he didn’t know how to predict, one person who may still change his mind on Virgil entirely.

    Roman.

    “Oh, no.”

    “Relax.” Remus whispered, automatically moved his hand along Virgil’s back to soothe him. “I know Roman acts like he’s perpetually got cork shoved where the sun don’t shine but you’re going to be okay.”

    “It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

    “Remus?”

    “Give me a moment. I’m warming Virgil’s sweet—”

    “If you value your life, you will not finish that sentence.”

    A choked laugh escaped Virgil at Roman’s exasperated response to his brother. He took a moment as he pulled away to wipe away the overwhelmed tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes before turning to Roman. Watching Remus antagonize his brother had become Virgil’s new normal and he was relieved to see that Roman taking the teasing in stride.

    “Virgil, are you okay?”

    “I’m fine, Roman.”

    “You don’t seem fine.”

    “Given the circumstances, Virgil is entirely justified in his reaction.”

    Logan’s gentle voice resonated against the walls as he stepped between the brothers. His silver-spotted pelt glistened in the torchlight as he stood between Remus and Roman, their dark brown pelts nearly fading into the shadows. Virgil could feel a brittleness in Logan's tone as he focused his concern on him.

    “We owe it to him to treat this situation with care.”

    “Logan, I’m fine.”

    Virgil chewed his lip as Logan reached a hand to brush his cheek. He could feel the warmth of Remus’ hand linger on his back as he shut his eyes and his soulmates’ adoration seeped into his body.

    “I hate to be an echo, love.” Logan’s voice dropped to a whisper as he shared an uneasy glance with Remus. “But in all fairness, your definition of ‘fine’ has been notably skewed in the past.”

    Virgil knees nearly buckled as Remus’ hand curled tighter around his waist. He felt himself go weak in his soulmates’ arms as the overwhelming weight of the situation started to feel real.

    “We’re not asking them to leave.”

    Roman’s voice felt small as he drew their attention. Virgil pulled back to turn to Roman as he stepped forward to stand in front of him. He could see the worry in Roman's face. Deep creases eyebrows revealed a genuine attempt to ease Virgil’s anxiety.

    “Janus has taken Patton to a safe place.” Roman continued when Virgil remained silent. “Since these two have clearly accepted the risk, I seen no issue in allowing your friends to stay as long as they need in order to recover.”

    Virgil felt a twinge of gratitude at Roman’s attempt to bridge the gap between them. The man who had snapped at him for even coming near Patton seemed like a different person from the one standing in front of him now.

    “Thank you, Roman.”

    “Vee?”

     Virgil’s heart skipped as the small voice interrupted him. He spun to face the kid rubbing his eyes in the corridor entry.

    “Thomas?”

    “Where’s Remy?”

    “He's resting.” Virgil turned away from Roman to kneel in front of the sleepy kid. “What are you doing awake, kiddo?”

    Thomas winced as a cough rattled from his chest. His eyes closed as he clenched his tiny fists before looking up at Virgil with his big, brown eyes. He seemed tired as he cleared his throat, grumbling as he leaned his head into Virgil’s shoulder.

    “My throat hurts.”

    “I'm sorry you’re hurting Thomas.” Virgil’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Let's get you some water. Alright?”

    “Here.”

    Virgil turned his head as Roman held out a leather waterskin to him.

    “Thanks.”

    Thomas blinked as Virgil took the waterskin from Roman. The kid barely seemed to notice the movement as a confused expression appeared on his face.

    “Who are you?”

    The air in the room seemed to shift as Virgil turned to watch Roman’s face shift to an unfamiliar nervousness. He seemed caught off guard by the kid’s question, pausing before he managed to form a response.

    “My name is Roman.” The selkie’s voice seemed to waver as he regained his breath. “I'm a friend  of Virgil’s.

    “Are you a prince?”

    “A prince?”

    “You look like one.”

    The hesitancy on Roman’s face disappeared as Virgil smirked up at Roman. His confidence returned as he kneeled next to Virgil, enjoying the enamored look on Thomas' face as he got down on his level.

    “Alas, I am not a prince but you are a guest in my realm.” Roman waved a hand in a dramatic flourish. “Pleasure to meet you, Thomas.”

    “You’re not a prince?”

    The disappointment in Thomas' voice was almost palpable in the air, but Roman didn't falter, playing up his mysterious grin. “Not quite. It's much more magical than that.”

    “Magical? What kind of—”

    Virgil couldn’t help but smile as Thomas' face lit up with awe. Mumbled questions started to pour from Thomas faster than he could form words. Virgil was certain the  kid could have talked all night about Roman's new revelation but another round of coughing rattling his chest and leaving him weak is eyes dipped shyly away from Roman.

    “Questions can wait until morning, dear Thomas.” Roman reassured him. “You have plenty of time to get your answers about me."

    Thomas' face flushed red as he reached out to wrap his hands around Virgil’s arm. He pulled the waterskin to his lips as he nodded slowly, mesmerized by Roman’s movements as he rose to his feet.

    “Oh, great. We're never going to hear the end of this.”

    “Let your brother have his fun, Remus.”

    “Not a chance, Lolo. If I give in here, he'll have the kid believing we’re all Roman's subjects in this fantasy world of his.”

    Virgil had to stifle a laugh at Remus' tart response. The weight of the situation seemed to disappear off his chest as he scooped Thomas off the ground into his arms.

    The kid's eyes didn’t falter. He remained focused on Roman, eyes wide as Virgil let out an amused sigh. He could see that the selkie didn’t seem to mind the attention, graciously encouraging the kid with an exaggerated wink.

    “Let's get you to bed, Tommy boy.” Virgil grinned as Thomas rested his head on his chest. “Before Em wakes up and has a heart attack that you’re not there.”

    “But—”

    “Roman’s not going anywhere, kiddo.” Virgil teased as Thomas stifled a yawn. “You can talk to him more tomorrow.”

    “Okay.”

    “Good. Do you want to say good night to everyone?”

    Thomas' face stretched into a yawn as he leaned into Virgil. “Night.”

    “Alright, bed time.” Virgil hesitated as he prepared to leave. The faces of the selkies glowed with an unconditional warmth that made the dread and anxiety he'd been feeling only a few hours ago into a distant thought. His words failed him, unable to capture the swell of gratitude he felt for them. “Again, I, uh—Just thank you. For everything.”

    “It’s our pleasure, Virgil. We’re glad to have the opportunity to help you and your family.”

    “Thanks, princey.”

    Virgil smirked as Roman rolled his eyes. He could almost feel the change in the air as the selkies watched him go. The last of his anxiety melted ina faint glimmer of hope as he carried Thomas back to his brother.

    Now, all he had to worry about was Remy’s reaction.

---

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[cranerosalia]

HALO REACH SPOILERS**

I like to think that Halsey brings up Noble Team and their 'failures' at least once and Jun straight up goes off on her. So I wrote it :))

"They all died, and yet you're still here. Is it luck I wonder? Or perhaps it is skills they all lacked-"

"You will not speak of them that way," Jun whipped around, staring Halsey in the face. "If it hadn't been for you and your damned research, maybe they'd be here. Maybe there'd still be a Noble Team."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, Halsey. I'm sure," he hissed. "You didn't see what we were up against. You were too busy boldfacing and making snarky comments about Six to open your eyes and understand."

"I completely understand," Halsey argued, standing from her chair only to flinch back when Jun brought his hand down on the table with a loud thud.

"NO, DOCTOR. NO, YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND." He shouted angrily. His blood was boiling and he was certain that his face was red with anger. He wanted to rip the table apart just to get to the woman who had the audacity to speak down about his teammates. Jorge. Kat. Carter. Emile. Six. All of them gone, and for what. A battle they practically lost anyways. "Can you process it?" he muttered. "Can you understand that we are humans too?! WE ARE NOT JUST ANDROIDS TO BE USED AND DISPOSED OF!"

"Jun," Sarah Palmer's voice said. Her hand touching his shoulder, he loosened up slightly trying to calm himself. But he was too far gone. His body was shaking with a violent rage he had pushed back. That he had refused to let show itself. At their memorials. Well...everyone except Six's.

She never got one.

"She will never know a memorial," Jun looked up at Halsey once more. "Antonia B-312 will never be mourned by anyone. Because all your damn operatives made her out to be was a machine. A robot. A ghost." Halsey's face was stern but it definitely read that she was listening. He watched her for a moment longer as he continued. "You would feel so destroyed if it were her opposing SPARTAN killed, now wouldn't you? Your precious pet project, yes?" Jun stood up straight, adjusting his suit's collar. He turned on his heel, pausing.

"You will never speak ill of Noble Team again, do I make myself clear, Doctor?"

"You don't command me, Chief of Staff."

"You're right. I don't. But so help me, if you continue this bullshit? You'll wish you stopped while you were ahead. Palmer," he nodded to the SPARTAN woman next to him to follow him out, his hands in his pants pockets leaving Halsey in a room of holographic files. Five ghosts haunting the room and watching her every movement. She could feel their gazes on her as she slowly sat down in her chair, staring at the computer before her. She could still feel the table shaking from when Jun brought his hand down on it.

She might have thought he could split it. He could've if he truly wanted to. Slowly she deleted her last notes and started again. This time, leaving her bias in the dark corner, guarded by a rose tattooed Reaper, whose eyes followed Halsey's every motion.

And Halsey knew Noble Six was watching.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Spell Caster Pt. 1

Masterlist

Hawkmoth stood on the platform above, laughing at the two downed heroes. Ladybug and Chat laid facing each other barely able to move, exhausting shining in their eyes. They had fought long and hard but in the end he had led them into a trap, delivering hit after hit till neither could stand anymore. He had led them to his secret garden where beloved wife rested, and poor Adrien could barely keep himself together. He kept fighting, unwilling to let Hawkmoth win even if it was his father. While Marinette did her best to cover her hurting partner, he was just too much for them. Hawkmoth stood talking to Emilie as if she could hear him, going on about how he was finally going to bring her back. Ladybug shifted her gaze from Hawkmoth’s back to her partner’s eyes. Chat was crying as he stared at his best friend, knowing he hadn’t really helped in the fight.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered softly trying not to draw attention to them for as long as possible. “I’m sorry Ladybug, I should’ve helped but that-that’s my dad. I kept freezing up and I failed you.” Ladybug smiled gently, moving her arm and grabbing his hand.

“It’s not your fault Chaton.” A single tear fell from her eye as they stared at each other.

‘You need to move.’

Ladybug tensed at the voice looking around when she noticed Chat didn’t react to it. The voice was a woman's, it was soft and comforting, almost familiar.

‘You need to move now!’

She couldn’t find anybody else in the room, there was nobody but them. Yet the voice was still there, perhaps she was going crazy. It would make sense to her, especially because she couldn’t place who the voice belonged to.

‘Sweetheart, I will explain later I promise, but you must remember!’

Remember what? Why did this voice want her to remember something, couldn’t they see she was in a bit of trouble right now.

‘Ugh! Foolish girl! You are more than just Ladybug!’

Rude. Of course she was more than Ladybug, she was Marinette...she was Marinette daughter of..

‘Yes Marinette! Marinette daughter of! You are so close, remember the book!’

Marinette, she was Marinette, the book...what book, could the voice mean her spell book?

‘Yes! Yes, my little Spell Caster!’

She was Marinette, she was a spell caster. She was Marinette, and she was a spell caster. She was the daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine-

‘Not by birth.’

Not by birth…Not by birth?! A distressed whine left her lips as she thought of her Maman, not by birth repeating in her head. Until she shoved it back focusing on her current crisis. She was Marinette and she was a Spell Caster, why hadn’t she thought of this before? She tried so hard to split Ladybug and Marinette to hide her identity that she forgot Marinette was special, if not more than Ladybug. What should she do though? She could alter his mind, but would it work? Would the Miraculous Gods affect her powers? Perhaps she could try an illusion?

“Chat, what was she like? Your mother.” Chat looked surprised as a gentle smile crossed his face.

“She was amazing, soft spoken, always so gentle and warm. She hated violence but she never backed down when it came to her family. She’d...she’d never want this to happen.” Chat broke as more tears fell and he held her hand tightly, barely even able to find the strength to.

“ Do you trust me?” She whispered as Hawkmoth began walking towards them. She’d need him in order to pull this illusion off. She’d need to see his memories. Chat nodded weakly, not willing to look away from her.

“Yes” She smiled and her dark blue eyes shifted into an unnatural swirling lavender.

“eciov reh raeh em tel.” Soon Emilie's soft and melodic voice graced her ear. Perfect, now the illusion will trick him.

‘That’s my Spell Caster.’

Who even is this voice, no no focus, she needs to create the illusion.

‘Silly girl.’

Hey! This voice seriously needed to stop distracting her. She turned her head slightly looking past Hawkmoth, and ignoring the smug smirk that she wanted nothing more than to punch off his face. Very hard.

“trapa mih raet reh evah efiw sih mih wohs.” She watched as an angry vision on Emilie appeared behind him looking as if she had sat up from her high tech coffin. Yes, coffin, the woman was dead, soul long gone and she didn’t have to be a daughter of Hades to know that. Daughter of Hades? What? What is she talking about?

‘Soon my child, soon.’

Who even was this voice! Later, she promised herself focusing on finalizing the illusion.

“Gabriel Agreste.” The same melodic voice called out, but instead of a soft and loving tone it was stern and angry. Hawkmoth turned immediately, staring at the vision of his wife in mute shock and disbelief. “What in the world are you doing!

‘I have called in a favor, one that will help you.’

Ugh, this voice popped in at the worst time. At least they were trying to help her though. She watched as Emilie’s illusion shifted slightly and it took her only a second to realize that it was more than an illusion now. No that was Emilie, just not her in body it was her, her soul.

‘Yes my child.’

She let out a wobbly grin as Emile began tearing into her husband. She squeezed Chat’s hand briefly hoping Emilie’s soul would be here long enough to say goodbye to her son. His eyes moved away from his mom’s form back to Ladybug’s.

“I will explain everything, I promise Chat. After this, no more secrets.”

She turned her attention back on Hawkmoth staring at his back intently. How could she get his miraculous? She was exhausted already so it couldn’t be anything complicated. Not to mention they’d need to get out of the lair after she took it. Summoning and a transportation spell, not a good combination when magically and physically exhausted. This left her in a very tough situation.

‘Someone is coming for you. You are too weak right now, the summoning spell will knock you out. Tell your partner to trust the one that comes from the shadows.’

Someone is coming? How can she know to trust them, just because a voice told her? Ugh, this was too difficult. Very well, tell Chat to trust the one from the shadows and then summon the butterfly Miraculous. She’d already taken the Peacock from Nathalie when they fought her earlier, so all that left was Hawkmoth’s.

“Chat, trust the one that comes from the shadows.”

“What? Ladybug-”

“Please Chat, trust me?”

“Always. Milady.”

“Then trust the one that comes from the shadows.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Suolucarim ylfrettub eht nommus i.”

The Miraculous immediately came to her hand but she didn’t get to celebrate as she began to see black spots. Her transformation dropped and she didn’t even get to enjoy Chat’s shocked face. Soon everything faded to dark with only parting words from the strange voice.

‘You and your partner are safe now my Spell Caster.’

She barely remembered what happened when she came to for the first time, everything was blurry as she panicked. Waking up in an unfamiliar room with someone she could barely see standing above her. Marinette threw a messy punch at the blonde above her, just barely missing even in her state. She lurched to throw herself off the bed but Will stopped her pulling her back onto it and talking softly. It did not help her at all and she didn’t stop panicking until Tikki flew in front of her face. Marinette took deep breaths staring at dearest friend. Will began pulling out new bandages getting ready to fix everything messed up in her panic. He was stopped by Marinette’s hand, she gave a weak smile as their eyes met. “Sorry…” She whispered out accent strong before falling back into the darkness.

Sun was directly in her eyes this time and she whimpered until it was blocked. Eyes meeting yet another stranger and instead of their stunning blue were a bright orange. She let out a distressed whine but did not move, Tikki was pressed against her neck. She was safe, even in the company of a stranger. Percy glanced at the door wishing for Will to magically appear before lifting the girl's head slightly holding a straw to her lips. “Drink please, it’ll help I swear.” He whispered trying to comfort her. Marinette took small sips, eyes changing to a soft and soothing blue at the taste of her favorite toasted white chocolate with triple espresso coffee. She glared when he pulled the straw away from her, causing Percy to laugh softly. He ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to be comforting. “I know, I know but too much will hurt you.” Her eyes watered slightly at the comfort.

“The voice didn’t lie.” She said softly, leaning into his hand. He quirked an eyebrow leaning closer to hear her. “The voice said we’d be safe, and we are.” Percy was silent before connecting the dots and nodding continuing to stroke her hair.

“The voice didn’t lie, you’re safe.” Marinette gave a small smile before darkness took her again.

“I can still barely believe it, Mar. The Gods are real, like real real, and you. You! You’re the daughter of one, her most powerful daughter too! I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. You’ve always been amazing in and outside of Ladybug. You’re my best friend, and-and I can’t wait for you to wake up. I need you to wake up please.” Adrien said softly, holding her hand, playing with her fingers. “I don’t know what our relationship will be. I don’t know if we’ll stay best friends or we’ll start dating. All I know is I want you in my life for the rest of my life.” Marinette squeezed his hand gently as her eyes faded to a soft pink.

“That sounds amazing, Rien.”

“Marinette!” Adrien cried out hugging her, laughter falling from both of them along with happy tears.

“Till the end?”

“Till the end.”

Percy smirked standing in the doorway, Chiron beside him as they watched the two.

“The holders of Creation and Destruction, in our camp.” Chiron mused watching the two before turning and walking toward the archery range. “This summer will be interesting won’t it.” He said ignoring Percy’s snort.

“I call training them Chiron!”

“Oh Gods help us, just what we need. Two more added to the chaos that is Percy Jackson.” Percy grinned, turning back to the two.

Yes, it would be a very interesting summer

✨Tag List Closed✨

@kanamexzeroyaoifangirl

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

@athena452

@thornalchemist23

@fangirlnerd001

@witchbitch1998

@insane-fangirl-of-everything

@thewackest

@vivilikesmiraculous

[scandi-rose]

Terms of affection

A DenNor headcanon

Human name usage

Norway never does this at all until he’s mingling in with normal humans around him.

Denmark started calling Norway Sindre a century or so after they had their union after they got to know each other more. He often calls him Dre when they’re alone together.

Country names

Denmark always favours calling Norway, Norge even in official matters around non-Nordic nations. He has to really have his arm twisted to ever call Sindre; Norway. He claims he feels weird in his mouth to say it that way.

Norway is more likely to call Denmark, by his anglophone name day to day and in official settings. When he’s around Denmark in casual settings he calls him Danmark.

It’s all in inflexion

Norway, will on occasion call Denmark by his name Magnus, but it’s usually when he’d mad at Denmark over something. Funny enough he calls Magnus, “Dane”  for often that any form of his human name.

It’s the way he says it when he was woken up in the morning and whines “Dane-” at Magnus. when he fondly watches Emil and Arthur and leans against him humming “Dane” as he holds Denmark’s hand. The times where he says it so earnest when asking after him or when he trying to console him, with whispering warmth as he presses his forehead to Magnus's

A “Magnus” followed by and stern expression and crossed arms could never compare to a “Dane” whispered in private moments under tender touches.

---

Denmark tends to all Norway, Dre more casually, but leans heavily on Darling, lover, precious and beautiful.

[thisisasupergoodidea]

Whumptober Day 2

Confrontation

—

Kill the mage.

Those were the instructions given to Rogelio by the elders of their village. Half a day of everyone else’s time wasted on worrying and wondering, only for the supposed wisest among them to emerge after all that useless deliberating, pointing their fingers at the wrong guy.

Rogelio struggles not to show his disapproval on his face.

“That’s… a bit extreme, don’t you think…? We aren’t even sure if he really-“

“It could only have been him,” one of the elders cuts him off. “He is dangerous, destructive, disrespectful. He offers us nothing but misery. We respect your attempts to correct his behavior, but enough is enough- don’t you think?”

“I- I understand that, but none of that necessarily means he’s capable of murder! What if you’re wrong?”

“Rogelio,” his father warns, his tone stern. “Watch your mouth, boy. I know you’re not suggesting that anyone else in Kaluss would be more capable than him… so think before you speak.”

“This wasn’t an easy choice to make. But it is for the best,” another says.

“What about what’s best for Emil?” Rogelio snaps, his voice shaken by fear and fury. “Was that ever a concern for you? Or was he always your problem?”

“…Excuse me?”

Taken aback by his outburst, the elders look at each other as if this were a strange prank being played on them; some of them mutter a few quiet words to others. Rogelio’s father takes a step towards him, his expression stony even in his shock.

“What did you say?”

Rogelio senses the mood in the room take a sharp turn from Us versus Him into Them versus Me; all at once, shame and conformity flood back into him. The world becomes topsy-turvy, the once-firm ground beneath him falling away into an endless unknown. There won’t be any going back if he chooses to damn himself further. If he chooses Emil over Kaluss.

He takes a breath and chooses.

“You- You’ve asked me to do so many things for the sake of ‘what’s best’ for Kaluss. And I’ve done it all without question. I was happy to do it, because you told me it was helping people. You told me that’s what I was supposed to do! That’s why… I won’t do this. Because he needs help too, and apparently, I’m the only one who gives a shit about helping him!”

He has to raise his voice practically to the level of shouting because the council-room erupts into raucous dissent before he even finishes speaking. He shrinks back and falters a little bit.

“You have no right to speak to us that way!”

“Don’t you dare betray your birthplace like this!”

“That boy is a curse upon our village, and now he’s cursed you, too!”

His father marches over and grabs him by the arm.

“I beg the council for forgiveness on my son’s behalf. He’s either confused-” -he tightens his grip severely- “-or a traitor, just like his mage friend. Either way, Rogelio, the burden will be on my shoulders to decide how to deal with you. If you don’t do as you’re told, you will pay for your disobedience. Have I made myself clear?”

He has. Rogelio can hear the words of caution underneath the ultimatum. He’s doing all he can to give Rogelio one final way out before it all really goes to shit. It figures that his father, who’s been habitually absent for large periods of Rogelio’s life because his profession demands it, would come back just in time to witness Rogelio making the single most defining mistake of his life.

Mistake? Is this a mistake? Is Rogelio wrong to stand up for the villain of Kaluss? What about the victims of Kaluss, the targets of mass scapegoating and neglect- are they also the ‘enemy’ Rogelio will be expected to someday purge without question?

And what if they’re one and the same?

It brings him no catharsis to finally understand what Emil had been trying to tell him all this time. In fact, it utterly breaks his heart. But not his resolve.

“I won’t be your executioner!”

He pushes his father off of him and bursts out of the council-room, racing past his bewildered neighbors and friends in the direction of Emil’s lonely tower beyond the forest.

—