#also path sideways ends up on for the future is so perfect

[libraryleopard]

Third book in the Scapegracers trilogy (releases 3/26)

Sideways's magic has been restored & their hoping to get through the rest of senior year with their coven (and perhaps avoid confronting what will come after), but the broader witch community convenes to put Madeline on trial for stealing another witch's magic, Sideways knows they have to get involved

Meanwhile, more witch hunters are also gathering in Sycamore Gorge for a memorial and tensions begin to come to a head

Explores justice, punishment, and redemption–how should Madeline be punished for crimes? And who gets to decide?

The coven must also grapple with their end imminent separation at the end of high school as the four of them try to figure out their future paths in life

At the same time, Sideways navigates a growing romance with one of their coven members

Also some great twists that add stakes/recontextualize things we thought we knew

Fierce & queer & snarky & complex

Nonbinary butch lesbian main character, Chinese American bi love interesting, Black sapphic side character, nonbinary side character, femme lesbian side character

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Tank Terrors

A Tank Terror’s main purpose to is to ship around the large amounts of fusion matter trapped within their bodies. These fusion monsters don’t have many offensive strengths, but that doesn’t mean that they aren’t dangerous. The main part of their bodies is armored and can be tough to crack through.  Moreover, breaking them open can actually pose an even bigger risk since the fusion matter trapped inside them is likely to spill out all over the place. This means that fusion fighters have to be very careful when fighting them or else a Tank Terror could end up causing major damage to an area/person upon death.

Since they are so heavy and their limbs aren’t suited for combat, their main means of attack is to ram at individuals. Luckily though, they aren’t very fast. While it’s less likely that they’ll be able to charge over you, it’s still recommended that a soldier keeps out of their direct path, since they can pin and crush their opponents against large objects. Stay quick on your feet and use sideways movements to dodge them, as it takes longer for them to spin their bodies around to face you. 

The best way to handle them is by attacking the head, neck, or limbs. For one, these parts of the body tend to be made up of weaker materials, such as heavy plastics, compared to the big metal casings along their backs. Their stomach area is also less armored, but it’s much harder to attack since they move so low to the ground and are hard to turn over.  Furthermore, they hold fusion matter mostly within the core of their bodies, so it’s not always wise to strike there. It’s best to try destroying the brain or decapitating them to limit the amount of fusion matter they’ll release, limiting wide wounds.  

From looking at concept art of this monster, there’s a hose on their backsides that connect the large tanks attached to their spines to the frontside of their abdomen. We can view this as fusion matter being carried within multiple compartments of their bodies (the tanks and a third “sac” in place of a stomach) with the hose filtering fusion matter between them as needed. It is the biggest external weakness, as while cutting or damaging it won’t kill the Tank Terror, it can cut off at least half of the amount of fusion matter it can carry within itself.  

While a Tank Terror’s body somewhat resembles an insect’s, there’s no perfect comparison seen among Earth’s creatures for them. Their nozzles act similarly to a proboscis, both to take in fusion matter and later inject it elsewhere--just a mosquito feeds while injecting saliva. The release of fusion matter when severely damaged, meanwhile, is reminiscent of how some bugs can release strong odors or even toxins as a defense mechanism--like stink bugs, millipedes, and blister beetles.  

Surprisingly enough, these monsters are only seen in the Future. At that point, there wouldn’t be as much of a need for them to spread fusion matter around since much of the Earth had already been taken over. Their purpose by then was to just hurry things along. Now, I actually do think Fuse would have utilized more of these monsters much earlier in the war if possible. However, he didn’t have the materials needed to make as many of them as he would’ve liked. The Tank Terrors are mostly made from various types of gasoline containers and fuel tanks, which would only really be located in urban areas. As seen in the Past, most urban locations were able to hold out for a long while. Furthermore, the people of earth would fiercely protect their energy resources. It would take some time for the Tank Terrors to appear as a result.   

It’s uncommon, but traces of fuel left anywhere in/on a Tank Terror’s body can cause that part of it to explode when using firepower against it.  

Their intelligence is pretty low, but these monsters are capable of small acts like theft, as seen in the mission “Candy Jarrr!” when they stole Licorice Lips’ jar of sweets.     

According to their descriptions, it is difficult, but not possible to “get inside” a Tank Terror despite how much fusion matter they carry around on them. It’s really not advised since it’s so dangerous, but fusion fighters with experience dealing with the Tank Terrors have gone after them specifically to harvest and purify fusion matter for nano creation--as once these monsters are downed, it is much safer to obtain the fusion matter within them compared to when fighting other monsters.  The real trick is just getting it before their bodies disintegrate as is the case with most all fusion monsters.     

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

[quilna]

A very long time ago I suggested a MBaV au then later took it down because I didn’t think that many people watched the show so not many people probably knew what I was talking about. I’ve decided to bring it back.

I had art to go with this (Which I might have posted earlier so my apologies if this is the second time you’ve seen this au) but people didn’t seem particuarly fond of it and I was worried that the art would be offputting from the actual concept.

Anyway, MBaV stands for My Babysitter’s a Vampire and it was this cheesy supernatural show I watched when I was a kid. This au has a few differences from the show, either because the time frame doesn’t fit (MBaV is set in the modern day, TGS is Victorian London so some things don’t match up), because I don’t properly remember the episode (It’s been a long time, not everything will match up. There are some episodes that I didn’t see at all.), or just because the change seemed better fitting for the au.

Dr Jekyll is a powerful spellcaster who, after a mishap with a spell years ago, accidentally split himself into two. While Jekyll is known for being one of the older and more skilled spellcasters in London, Edward has a bad habit of messing up spells, either by not reading through the consequences before using them or reading them backwards. He’s technically still powerful but it’s difficult for people to tell when so many of his spells go sideways.

The pair can hide memories from each other and both use it to screw with the other.

Jekyll runs a society for the supernatural, trying to keep the supernatural side of London from messing around with the normal side too much. However, the society has a cover of being a society for the sciences so it attracts a mixture of regular humans and the supernatural meaning that:

A. The supernatural side of the society has to be hidden from some of the society’s members

B. They’re not actually sure how many are human and how many are supernatural, leading to some more malicious monsters slipping in.

--

Lanyon, meanwhile, is a seer. By touching people or certain objects he can receive visions of the future or the past but they’re not always clear.

Throughout his life, these abilities have allowed him to learn a lot of things he didn’t want to know about - he always knew when other people were just trying to use him, he always knew when something bad was going to happen to someone, and it left him rather cynical and detatched. He does his best to avoid contact with people to avoid getting these visions.

However, he starts to get particularly bad visions from Dr Jekyll, hinting that Edward Hyde will eventually start being a danger to Jekyll. As a result, he’s doing his best to figure out what the deal with Edward is before it’s too late or, at least, get rid of Edward before things can come to pass.

Rachel and Henry don’t seem to take him seriously about Edward (Rachel doesn’t want to believe that Edward could hurt Jekyll and, therefore, reasons that Lanyon’s visions aren’t telling him everything and Jekyll, obviously, already knows everything and wants Lanyon to stay out of it before he learns the truth.)

--

Rachel is a fledgling vampire, bitten and turned by Moreau, the leader of a vampiric cult. She hasn’t drunk human blood yet which means she’s weaker than most vampires, hoping that, if she remains a fledgling (continues to not drink from people) she might one day be cured.

Jekyll helps make a blood substitute for her so she never has to drink from a human.

The Elephants are an all female all vampire group so Lucy and Elsie are very supportive of Rachel’s vampirism and often give her advice on the matter. (Although they don’t really get her aversion from drinking human blood.) Lucy is a very old and powerful vampire.

Eli was killed by Moreau when he ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

--

Frankenstein is a necromancer who came to London looking for the  powerful spellcaster she had heard so much about, wanting his help to cure vampirism entirely. However, the moment she arrived she ended  up in an altercation with Moreau, leaving her injured. To her annoyance,  she had to pick up the cover of being a scientist looking for a cure  for her son’s terrible condition (The son being Creature.) and was taken in by the society while  she searches for the spellcaster in her spare time. To her extra  annoyance, every time she slips away and starts trying to track the  spellcaster, it always somehow seems to lead her directly into the path  of “the naive human” Dr Jekyll leading to her being put back to bed every time.

In all fairness, Jekyll has perfected the ignorant human act.

Things become trickier however when her spell finally leads her to Edward Hyde instead, leading her to believe that he’s the spellcaster. Edward doesn’t correct her or even let Jekyll know about this, wanting to prove himself as powerful as Jekyll.

Eventually, he starts searching for a powerful magical artifact which could help them. A magical artifact with absolutely no corrupting properties at all. Ever. It’s perfectly safe and will not at all ever send Hyde, already the personification of evil, towards trying to eliminate his good half and take over London. Of course not.

Jekyll knows that something bad is afoot but, with Hyde blocking his memories from him, he doesn’t know exactly what. Neither does Frankenstein realize her mistake until it’s too late.

---

The lodgers:

Helsby is a mermaid. When he’s touched by water, he turns into his mermaid form and his singing voice can send everyone around him into a rage. After he causes a lot of chaos around the society, Lanyon, Rachel, and Hyde set out to try to defeat him in a music contest. If he loses, he has to stop. This plan goes sideways when Hyde marches in with a trumpet cursed to make the most horrible noise possible and basically forces Helsby into submission instead. And destroys Lanyon and Rachel’s eardrums in the process.

Jasper is a werewolf as always. He came directly to the society, looking for help with his condition, fearing the danger of his werewolf half. Werewolves and vampires have a natural rivalry but Rachel just decided that the taboo of it was just more romantic and fell for him. When the full moon came, though, everyone found out that Jasper just turns into a harmless dog. Rachel was a little disappointed but still loved him anyway.

Cantilupe is an ancient god who slipped in with the intent of collecting followers in the society to bring about the apocalypse, pretending to be a zoologist. However, she then met Lavender, a newer human zoologist who viewed her as her senior and constantly looked for Cantilupe’s help with her work. Cantilupe decided she was fond of this tiny human and stopped trying to end the world. Lavender still isn’t aware that her senior is a literal god.

Maijabi is a spirit that can inhabit mirrors. His cursed mirror was accidentally taken in by the society where he began to manipulate people who looked into his mirror into harming people around them to get revenge for his death after dying in a prank gone wrong. As it turned out, though, Lanyon could see him for what he was thanks to his powers. After stopping him, Jekyll used his magic to make him visible to other people so he can sort of live again. He still can’t touch people without passing through them.

Sinnett is human but, at one point, a sentient tree ends up getting into the society and taking control of all of the automatons, technology, and clockwork in there, including Sinnett’s arm. He helps arm the trio with flamethrowers to fight the tree but they couldn’t get the last bit of tree of out Sinnett’s prosthetic arm. Now he has to deal with an evil tree in his arm which occasionally tries to convince him to destroy the world. He tunes it out.

Tweedy is also human but he’s a “paranormal investigator” who came to the society looking for ghosts. Most of his equipment suspiciously goes off around Rachel (She is undead and all) and everyone has to keep trying to hide the numerous ghosts and zombies in the society.

Bryson is the ghost of a once famous aeronaut looking to regain his lost fame. He tries to force Lanyon as the only person who can see him into helping him with this but Lanyon knows absolutely nothing about aeronautics.

---

Other things:

Once, as a lesson to try to teach Robert, Rachel, and Edward to work together, Henry secretly used a spell to send each one of them into their own pocket dimension based off of each of their fears. Initially it was supposed to have safeguards in place to keep the exercise safe and keep the fears mild.

Hyde was given the fear of being alone (A world completely devoid of people)

Rachel was given a fear of losing herself to her vampirism (A more powerful and evil version of herself)

Robert was given the villain from a play he watched recently which frightened him. (An automaton dentist gone rogue.)

However, either by Hyde messing around with magic to try to free them all or by some malicious outside intervention (Because it would be mean for Jekyll to do this himself but I can’t miss out the angst of a proper worst fear episode.) the safeguards got removed and the worlds started to twist themselves to everyone’s deepest darkest fears.

Hyde ended up chased by his own friends, turning on him after they discovered his secret.

Rachel was chased by the ghost of Eli, blaming her for his death.

Robert got a monstrous version of Hyde from his visions, the version of Hyde he knew was someday destined to kill Jekyll. (Hyde was very flattered when he found out.)

All of them try to hide their fears from the others and the worlds continue feeding off their fear and becoming more monsterous and twisted as time goes on.

They all only just escape.

--

Jekyll and Hyde have been seen in the same place before which doesn’t help anyone figure out that they’re the same person. Thanks to messing around with an old cursed camera from Jekyll’s collection, Hyde accidentally makes an evil clone of himself. Everyone kind of notices that Hyde’s acting a little worse than usual but Jekyll’s the only one who knows that something wrong’s going on here (Because that’s himself just standing there mocking him.) and Jekyll has to try to stop the evil Hyde alone, unable to tell anyone why he knows that isn’t the real Hyde.

--

Jekyll once accidentally hired a carriage haunted by the ghost of a dead vampire and everyone had to work together to stake it because it wouldn’t stop running people over.

They don’t talk about it.

The horses came out fine.

--

Hyde once tried to resurrect an old pet of Lucy’s to attempt to impress her (Pets don’t live awfully long when you’re immortal after all.) but ended up bringing to life every dead animal in the area. Every last one of them turned out violent. After getting rid of most of the animals, they found one little zombie dog that somehow didn’t become violent. Jekyll took it in and named it Zosi.

[anthonyed]

I'll keep you warm, stevetony (fluff mayhaps?)

Anon, not gonna lie: I did the prompts in order so the one I did before this were angst and hurt/comfort respectively which made me forgot how to write fluff for a sec. Point is: before I wrote the actual (what I hope) fluff (above cut and some below), I wrote something that leans more to hurt/comfort/soft (some weird genre idk) and I’m including that under the cut just because.

Hope at least one of the below satisfies your fluff need, anon :) (from this list: "I'll keep you warm")

-//-

Steve is something else. 

Well, he's many things in the sense that you see or hear him do that and be like, yeah. That sounds like Steve. 

But then, there are other things he'd do and nobody would buy Tony when he says: "Steve did that! I swear, Pepper, I'm not exaggerating."

Like right now, coming into the workshop wrapped neck down in their comforter which -

"What are you doing?" Tony asks, jaw slack, voice high and airy in disbelief, mouth agape and eyes wide behind his safety goggles. 

Lucky for him, he created JARVIS when he was 21 and had a stroke of brilliance in the middle of an ugly grieving so he doesn't have to suffer a third-degree burn from a hot glue gun today. 

Steve though, he plops in front of Tony with his massive comforter wrapped form and burrows into it deeper, letting only baby blue eyes peek out like a damned mole - Jesus Christ - and he whines, "I'm cold."

Tony's mouth snaps close at one. His eyes narrow and he points the glue-gun at Steve. "You," he says, "You, you, you. I know exactly what you're doing."

But Steve is a stubborn, stubborn man. He makes sure he gets what he wants by the sheer force of his will if that's what he's left to give. Or maybe it's Tony who's a weak dumb man when it comes to Steve.

Either way, Steve purses his lips, bats his lashes and tilts his head at an angle. All the while looking at Tony with those baby blue puppy eyes and that's all it takes for Tony to drop the glue gun and groan into his hands. 

This is not fair! "Jarvis, I need this footage to show Pepper tomorrow morning," he says, standing up. 

Steve straightens up, letting his whole head pop out of the blanket burrito he'd wrapped himself in and Tony makes it a point to chuck his goggles with an extra dose of venom while glaring at him. 

"Captain America, they said. Prime man full of virtues, my ass. This!" he points at Steve's exaggerated innocent face. "This is not virtue. This is playing dirty."

"But I'm not Captain America," Steve grins, dropping the facade as he waddles clumsily behind Tony, marching out of the shop; the extra length of the comforter dragging like a tail behind him. "I'm Steve Rogers, making sure my boyfriend comes to bed on time."

Tony waits until they're inside the elevator to stare him up and down and he lets out a defeated sigh, "Still not fair."

Steve smiles, smug and well - he has a very good reason to be, no shit. "All is fair in love and war," he says, chest puffing out in pride.

"No," Tony draws the line. "You say that one more time and I'm going straight back to the shop."

The effect is instant like he'd flicked a switch and Steve goes from a smug bastard to his faux innocent puppy eyes burrowing into his comforter wrap.

"But I am cold." He mumbles into it, blinking up at Tony. "I need you to warm me up."

And the elevator door opens, but Tony has already made up his mind quicker. "Are you now?" He pouts back, cocking his head sideway, playing into whatever his boyfriend's doing.

But the wiggle to his lips betray his mischievous intent spectacularly and Steve's already one foot out of the elevator by the time Tony lunges for him. 

Super soldier and their super speed: "Come here, you!" Tony calls, breaking into a jog and God forbid, he'd lived close to half a century of his life; Steve even worse, but also not. He's 33 if they're counting out the years he'd spent in the ice. Still old enough to not run but he is; bolting into their shared bedroom like the devil himself is at his tail, chuckles like chiming bells following his path. 

And no, Tony thinks, after the first few feet. He refuses to play chase at this age, but not so much to tickling Steve in the bed once he'd caught up. Asking, "You want me to keep you warm? Huh? Is that what you want? I'll keep you warm. Come here, you big blonde cheat." 

All the while Steve's laughing into the pile of comforter he'd shed as soon as he'd accomplished his mission, twitching with every poke and jab to his flanks.

"Uncle!" He gasps. "Uncle, uncle, uncle!"

And Tony lets him go. Breath heaving as he rolls off of Steve, brushing hair out of his eyes. "You asked for this." He tells his panting boyfriend; red in the face, hair mussed, spilling soft all over his face and he looks so precious that Tony has to just cup his face and smack a kiss on his grinning mouth.

"You win," he admits, rolling out of the bed and peeling off his shirt, letting it fall in a lump on the floor as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

"This time!" He shouts back just to make it clear, so Steve doesn't get any wild ideas about fooling Tony again in the future.

He thinks he hears a faint "Every single time," but promptly decides to ignore that. 

-//- vers 2 -//-

“Come here,” Steve says, stretched out in bed looking expectant like everything’s perfect.

Any other time, Tony would have leaped at the chance. He’s never been a guy for picket fences and happy endings but sitting in one of Barton’s kid’s rooms changes perspective. 

If you look out the window, you can see the barn cum garage and Tony’s been there earlier this afternoon, checking on their tractor, speaking with Fury about stuff and he’d came out of there for hours now but there was a thought he had when he was still inside: 

Wood fire is great; Steve could chop the logs and I can work the tractor. We’ll have to discuss who cooks dinner, and there’ll be a kid, a boy running around calling for us, maybe. One day - Maybe.

And that thought’s still swimming in his head. 

The thing is, they’re still raw from battle. Just hours ago, they’d almost had a fight (if not for Mrs Barton) and now, Steve’s here on a single bed pretending like that didn’t happen, calling Tony for a cuddle.

“I’m fine.” He says, turning back to the gauntlet he's fiddling with under a low table lamp, straining his eyes behind his glasses.

It’s late summer but something about the secluded farmhouse in the middle of nowhere makes the wind chiller. And his body responds with a shiver when a draft passes by. He looks up, checks the window and he knows it’s closed tight; he did that a minute ago. 

“Tony,” Steve sighs, sounding closer than before and when he looks up, he’s right; Steve is closer, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed now - Didn’t even hear him move, which is a surprise, so Tony looks at the bed frame, wondering what material it’s made of. 

“Tony,” Steve calls again. Softer.

He looks up. Steve looks weary, but he strains to smile. “Come to bed,” he says. “You need rest.”

And Tony knows he does, but- 

But, he doesn’t deserve to rest. He is the reason why all this happened - is happening - in the first place. He caused this - How can he rest?

He goes back to the gauntlet.

And he forgets just how stubborn Steve is until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Then another lands over his, before he can even turn around, to pry the gauntlet from his fingers. “Come on,” Steve says, pressing the words into his temple.

With one hand, he frees the tiny wrench from Tony’s grip while he holds Tony’s head to his mouth with the other, pressing a kiss and he combs his hair back, leaning away, looking into Tony’s eyes when a shiver wrecks down Tony’s spine.

“It’s kinda cold tonight,” he smiles, soft eyes tempting like whiskey on a lonely evening, “Warm me up?” and Tony has to roll his eyes at that.

“What are you? 12?” he snorts. “Is this how you flirt, because Rogers you better count your lucky stars you landed me for your boyfriend. I let you get away with this. Anyone else, I doubt they will.”

“I got blue eyes and blonde hair,” Steve shrugs and it’s lame; Tony knows what he’s doing, knows it’s working, but it’s not like he’s fighting against Steve’s efforts, anyway.

They’re lame; could be better. But it’s past midnight in some unregistered region on earth and they’re tired from fighting his own creation, tired of arguing; it's a picket fence farm with children and everything feels like fairy dreams here. 

Tony doesn’t do fairy dreams but Steve makes him want to. He makes him think: maybe - one day. 

Maybe that’s why he lets Steve have that satisfaction of pulling him up to his feet and onto the bed.

Maybe that’s why he lets Steve tuck his head under his chin and says, “I’ll keep you warm, super soldier.”

[flow-green]

19-08-2021

 “I think I’ve never had more chaotic year than this one,” I confessed one evening when we drove in a car somewhere. My SO gave me a warm look and I checked to the back seat where my Charlie-baby was sleeping. If somone would have told me year and a half ago that 2021 will be a true turnaround in my life, when I will throw away all the life chains and take full control, I would have rolled mye eyes and gotten back to my endless vicious circle of career. I think ever since 17-years old I have followed the norms the society has set up: graduate high school, sprint through university, meanwhile make sure you work so you won’t get drowned in depts, get a job for your field of interest, in the meantime take some loan for some random house and if you have a moment, please, make some babies. Ever since I was a child, I knew right away: that’s not me. I don’t know what it is that makes me want to break these frames. But, oh well, there is no point to raise my voice for my own good as all the other people around me are nicely stable in the system. Some of my exes are on the same line: if you are not a parent by age 31 and do not own a gorgeous house in the suburbs while paying a sickly huge loan, meanwhile ignoring your family, friends and hobbies to make ends meet just so you could work yourself to deah by age 40, then you are a loser.

Few weeks ago in Saaremaa, while tipping my toes and feet into the warm and comforting waters of Estonian sea, I realized where I have drifted with my life. Only now I have started to realized that, f**k me sideways, I am actually a living human being. A LIVING person. I LIVE.

About 2 months ago, near summer solstice, I finally felt the finalizing ticking in my brain that pushed me gently to the edge of unknown. “Will you?” the life asked and motioned me to jump. “Or will you stay here forever, wondering what’s down there?” And so, with shivering hands, I clicked ‘send’ button on the mail that delivered my resignation letter to my boss. Done. Over half a year full of mental terror and a slow suicide will come to an end. At this point I had insane regrets. How am I supposed to throw away an opportunity and 6-year long career just because I do not want to live anymore? Now you’re probably thinking I am being a drama queen and overexaggerating. Oh, dear god, no. There were days, where everything started to tumble down in one go: my love life, my family relations, friends and work relations. On these days I switched myself and my phone off, listened to some serious melancholic tunes, sat alone for hours or drove around with a car and now, admitting for the first time: I hoped that something will happen and I do not need to live here anymore. I admitted this once also in my therapy, that I have frozen up while driving, not really giving a damn about my leg on gas pedal and about the speed.

I am once again a fat, useless, lazy, clumsy, slow and unorganized. Blessed with sore black eyes, a girl with unstable nervs and flaked nails. And all this just to give myself to a work which does not appreciate any sacrifices I make.

And I did it. This is MY life. My path and my decision, I ain’t going anywhere and even if I do, I’ll go with a smile on my face and as a queen for a day.

Few days ago I realized with full heart that this was one of the most important decisions in my life. I went for a run, as I have started to pick it up again. I went and set a goal to run approx 20 minutes. I had time. No rush. Only responsibility waiting for me was one project to improve a home page of our fresh company, but there was no strict deadline nor a passive aggressive boss-lady stalking my every move and making sure I am around even off-hours. So, my 20 minute run became to a 1 hour run, which was successful, nicely progressive and easy. I enjoyed every minute, because I was present. I had nowhere to hurry. I did not worry about the future or the past. I was just excisted. And I breathed.

I think I have cried more this year than in total for all past years. In my 9 to 5 appartment cubical lifestyle I always pushed away everything that demanded at least some movement out of comfort zone. For exaxmple I always closed in when my ex partner had an idea to do some changes. Well, true, his changes did not comply with my dreams. I did not want to get a huge loan to buy a house and sprint out 2 babies just because ,,Martin and Marge had their second kid in their gorgeous house and Martin is only 1 year older than me.” OK, is nice for them I guess? Every time these silly arguments started to come up, I switched myself off into my safety bubble, all alone. I let no emotions, chaotic situatons to influence myself and I just slowly flew on my laid down path, with eyepatches on. I always knew I want something different. I wanted to fight and be heard. Every time there was a conflict at work, with a friend or family member or with a partner, I eliminated it in the early stages and just ignored the rest.

And when these eyepatches were finally removed, everything else followed. I had no pink glasses or filters for emotons. Real life was there for me, but not always in a bad way. Real life offered everything, you only had to have guts to reach out and take it, with all its plusses and minuses. Take it, dominate, take responsibility, but don’t just float by. Get yourself togeter, notice, do, learn and experience. If not now then... when?

This half of a year has thrown so many obstacles and opportunities on my way and I have caught most of them. I guess one of the most difficult period was spending some insane time at a house in the middle of nowhere, without any water or normal comforts. This has made me appreciate small benefts of our everyday life.

I think I have mentioned this earlier as well, that February and March were probaby the hardest months this year. I was given a challenge to overcome and boy, it was tough. Namely, I got pregnant. As a woman who has never wanted to become a mom due to several and long reasons which I will not discuss today, I was in a cocmplete shock. I felt happy, scared, angry. Why now? Universe has its twisted sense of humour and it turned out that the pregnancy is not carriable for medical reasons and abortion is a must. I did not have a single day to stay home and mourn and endure grief. Oh, no, they needed me back to work ASAP. So I ignored the pain of loss and carried on with even more enormous work tempo to keep up. This period started a chain reaction which pulled me cruelsomely to the edge of the cliff. Work does not sleep, it waits impatiently. Even on these two horrible days I had to go through with the process, I did some work since I had become irreplacable.

All the emotions sealed up just blasted out as soon as some smaller bebble hit my bicycle. I cried hysterically, screamed. There were no days where my eyes weren’t bloodshot and with dark underlines.

In some sort of a sick twisted way I felt good, since I was needed, everything depends on me and I am sure it will get paid off nicely in the end when I have worked until my nose bleeds. In this tunnel vision I did not realize that skipped recovery and unresolved grief had made me this maniacal, delusional self-centered zombie, who lived for her workdays. All my free time I spent worrying about next work day. I did not notice anymore how my mom is doing, how are my friends and what is my partner up to. Every time we went off to one of our van trips I just existed somewhere in my thoughts about how much there is still to do. And it’s even more sadder, that I did not even notice myself anymore in the free world.

“Yea, but how would you go on?” was the main question I was asked when with a shaky voice I admitted that I need to quit my job right now and don’t want to take such responsibilities for a while now, only for myself. Everyone can do it. If there is a will, there is a way.

I am happy that I have at least won almost the entire battle with eating disorder, although I have to admint I am not proud over the inner criticizm about my body, which has grown 8 kg heavier since last summer. This means I still have days I hide under baggy clothes and just wait until these dark thoughts pass. There are days where I absolutely veto going to the beach because ‘it’s cold’. Actually I am reminding myself of that year where I had a killer six-pack, hip bones and tiny bikinies fit me so well, but now I look more like a curvy, slightly soft female not nearly showing signs of being physically active. Although, I am now in that golden zone where my weight is not going up nor down almost at all, no matter how much or little or what kind of foods I eat (plant based always of course). I guess it is positive, my body has found it’s perfect zone, but I--- don’t really like it. This mentality here is something now that I have to work with, with all my spare and peaceful time.

Since 25 July I am (f)unemloyed. And happy. I have made sure that I will be secured, will not be homeless and have food and I have a first step of a plan prepared. Priority for now is to help myself out of this destructive black hole that influences not only me but other close ones as well.

I don’t have black shadows under my eyes anymore. I sleep deep, without any random wake ups, I finally have time and motivation to cook, bake and test out recipes that have been collecting dust since forever. From day to day I get back to introduce myself to my long lost hobbies like kite surf, reading, writing, drawing and yoga.

I have finally startrd to realize that next to me there are people that I love unconditionally and to whom I have shown insanely rude attitude. Have you ever felt that re-falling in love again? I am currently feeling it with tripple multiplications, because I have once again fallen in so much love with my dog, my boyfriend and my hero on this topsy-turvy road, my family, friends and life itself.

I will not even take a glance anymore to that 100 promises I made earlier this year. Life is just so much different with completely new challenges. If anything, then I can mark this time period here as my new and fresh chapter for my life.

[a-mandala-rose]

You Spin Me Right Round...

I’ve never written a meta post about an episode before, so with only three episodes left, I figured this is the perfect time to start. It typically takes me a few days to process and gather my thoughts, because much like Dean this season, I’m rather slow on the uptake. By the time I have something to say, it usually feels like the moment has passed. But what the hell. We’re three episodes from the end and I have FEELINGS.

To start, I’m going to back up a moment and talk about 15X16 (see “slow on the uptake,” above). Lots of fans, myself included, found themselves frustrated with watching what at first glance seems to be your run of the mill MOTW episode. A *good* MOTW, for sure, but still, with only four episodes left to go, it felt like we should be past this by now. In fact, “aren’t we past this?” seemed to be the theme of the entire episode and that alone should have clued us in that despite appearances, this episode was anything but just another MOTW. If that was too subtle, Billie’s pointed “you’re working a case? Now?” should have been a dead give away that we needed to look deeper. And many tried, but the most a lot of us could come up with was the brothers’ big emotional argument at the end and even that was a giant moment of “been there, done that.” Why at what should be a pivotal point in the series are we rehashing the same arguments we’ve been watching for the past 15 years?

Jumping ahead to 15X17 for a moment, we see Dean absolutely breaking down. He’s losing it. Imploding. Leaving aside all of the problematic comments about and to Jack (we’ll come back to that), Dean lays out the crux of the problem when he and Jack are talking in the Impala: he doesn’t know what’s real. Like he’s been saying all season, he’s lost the perspective to be able to tell what about his life has been his choice and what has been Chuck’s machinations. He’s stuck in Chuck’s hamster wheel. Going ‘round and ‘round. Repeating the same scenes, lines, hunts, and arguments on a loop. Wait…why does that ring a bell?

Back to 15X16 and NOW it makes sense. Why are we stuck in yet another MOTW episode? Why is Dean lying to Sam again? Why is he once again sacrificing someone he loves, leading them “into the meat grinder?” Why is he backsliding on all that great emotional growth we saw last season? Why is he repeating the same destructive patterns that thanks to Kaitlyn, we know he’s been stuck in since childhood? IT’S THE HAMSTER WHEEL. Round and round we go…but whose hamster wheel is it?

Back to 15X17, LOTS going on in this episode and I’m not going to touch on all of it. But some highlights [and these are in no particular order because 1) I’m scatterbrained as hell and 2) the fuck does it matter anyways, because as we’ve established, we’re just going around in a big ass circle here]:

We see some absolutely masterful manipulation by Chuck. Manipulating Dean in order to manipulate Amara because he knows thanks to their “bond,” she’ll never turn on Dean…unless he betrays her first…which brings us to two of the biggest points in this episode. First off, we learn that Chuck didn’t write the Dean/Amara bond, which, as many more brilliant meta minds have pointed out before me, mirrors Dean and Cas’ profound bond, which we learn at the end of the episode was also NOT written by Chuck (and in fact pisses him off quite a bit, to put it mildly.) This reminds us that though he claims to be omniscient, Chuck is definitely NOT omnipotent and while he may be able to control space and time, one thing he can’t control is human emotional bonds and relationships. And this friends, this is important. In fact, it’s everything.

Right before Chuck confesses that Castiel is, as Cas fans have long insisted, the very embodiment of free will (more on that later), Sam references Eileen, which, yes, is very sweet, but also...also, is a call back to their relationship, specifically, to Eileen’s fears that her feelings for Sam weren’t genuine. She wonders what about her and Sam’s relationship was real and what was Chuck, which we knew at the time was a mirror to Dean’s “What about all this is real?” The answer, of course? “We are.” And now we have confirmation: emotional bonds/relationships are REAL. They might be manipulated by Chuck, but they aren’t created by him and clearly, he can’t understand them. That’s illustrated several times in this episode. His reaction to Dean’s “icky” bond with Amara. His inability to "feel the love" of the angels she took him to see. His cold manipulation of his sister. The throwback to the way he threw Adam and Eve, his first human children, out of the Garden and then used their sons to further his own plans. His consternation with Castiel for not doing as he was told after he raised Dean from perdition.

Chuck doesn’t understand and didn’t create emotions. Which seems obvious wen you think about the fact that his first sentient children didn’t have them. Emotions are a specifically HUMAN creation and that is what makes humans so frustrating and incomprehensible to Chuck. It’s why he hates them. Not only are a few of them very disobedient pets, as a whole they've created something he cannot. What a blow to the ego that must be.

The second thing referenced by Amara and Chuck’s conversations about Dean is his betrayal of her. Chuck’s telling Amara that Dean is sending her to the “meat grinder” is not a coincidence. That language is a deliberate mirror to Dean accusing his alternate future self of sending Cas to the meat grinder in The End (That’s only one of several parallels Unity makes with The End. For a much more thorough accounting, check out castielslostwings’ Twitter thread.), which, as I referenced above, also parallels Dean’s willingness to send Jack on a suicide mission. What do these things all have in common? Each time, Dean is ignoring his own instincts, his own “moral compass,” in favor of a plan. In The End, he regrets his choice to say no to Michael…to veer from Michael’s, aka God’s, aka Chuck’s plan and is trying to recreate it by killing Lucifer/Sam. Now he’s following Billie’s plan, even though it clearly feels wrong to him. We can see that in the way he tries to distance himself from Jack. The way he tries to convince himself that Jack isn’t family. That he’s different from Sam and from Cas, even though he’s told Jack before that he IS family. Even though when he was angriest with Jack and distraught with grief over Mary, he still told Belphegor that Jack was “our kid.” We can see it too in the way he reacts equally defensively when Sam brings up how they’re about to betray Amara in 15X15 and again in 15X17 when we can see Dean flinch when she tells him they’ll always help one another. This feels wrong to him, but he’s doing it anyways because he thinks he has no choice.

Looking back over seasons’ past, the two ever-present themes in Supernatural have been free will (obviously) and found family. They’ve always been intertwined. We’ve watched time and time again as Sam, Dean, and Cas choose one another. But now we have those two themes coalescing more than ever before. Every time any of them chooses “the plan” over their family, shit goes sideways. And now we know it’s because, as Chuck has made pretty damn clear in his manipulation of Billie’s plan, he’s omniscient and he controls all time and space.  All plans are HIS plan.

But what doesn’t he control? Emotions. And the bonds they create between people. It’s in choosing one another that Team Free Will has always thwarted Chuck’s plan. Dean refusing to go down the path laid out for him in The End. Cas refusing to "hurt Dean Winchester." Sam refusing to reap MoC Dean. Dean refusing to shoot Jack in that cemetery. The boys refusing to hurt one another, again and again and again. The boys choosing one another again and again and again. And I think that's what Chuck really wants to break. Why he's so obsessed with getting his ending. This is what Becky was getting at in her critique of his story. Chuck doesn't understand his characters, because he doesn’t understand feelings. He hates this creation of humanity that has become more important to them and more defining of them than anything else, including him. So, he wants to conquer it. He wants to manipulate the situation to make his characters choose something of his divining over their emotional bonds to one another. Those bonds he didn't create and that he, in all of his omniscience and power, cannot sever.

15X17 confirms that free will is real. Cas chose to disobey. That wasn’t written by Chuck. And speaking of Cas, let’s look at our biggest two parallels of the season: Dean and Cas. (Sorry Sam. Sit this one out.) Cas, who Chuck has just identified as the epitome of free will. Cas who, once a mindless soldier, abandoned heaven’s plan. Who found his new purpose when he chose to become a father. Who follows his instincts over the plan because “something went wrong” and “the plan changed.” Versus Dean. Dean who has spent this entire season feeling trapped. Who keeps choosing “the plan” over his family and finds his cage getting smaller by the minute.

Back to 15X16. I asked before whose hamster wheel is Dean on? Dean says it’s Chuck’s, but that assumed that free will was a lie. Now we know it’s not. Free will is real and Chuck never even had to take it away from Dean. Dean gave it up as soon as he started following someone else’s plan instead of his own. Dean’s hamster wheel is of his own making.

There are so many more things I could say about 15X17. For starters, those chapter titles…are they referencing Chuck’s story? Or are they chapters in his death book, the one we saw in this episode and Chuck himself referenced? After all, Billie’s read that book, so she must have known “her” plan would fail. But she went down that path anyways…And speaking of Billie, I haven’t even touched on her or the Empty. The Empty says Billie wants “everything back where it belongs” with angels in heaven and demons in hell. Wait. That sounds familiar. Oh yes! My new favorite demon, Zack, said that in our other most recent “just a MOTW” episode. It seems Rowena wants something similar. Isn’t that interesting? And speaking of Rowena, if there’s one thing this show loves, it’s duality. Parallels. They’re everywhere…except, it seems, when it comes to the queen of Hell. Who will mirror Rowena? How interesting that we visited that empty throne room in Heaven last week…

BUT…the main thing here is this: Unity. This episode was about unity and now we have a unified Chuck and Amara. We’re going to need a unified TFW in order to defeat them. Because that is the key to defeating Chuck. Choosing one another…choosing our found family, the ones we’ve created those bonds with…again and again and again.

[warlock-enthusiast]

I can't sleep until I feel your touch

@feylen bought me some ko-fi <3 <3 much labbu !!!

fandom: Pathfinder: Age of Worms (Lesraniza x Ekaym x Eligos)

rating: E (this is pure smut)

------------

Normally not the most outgoing person, and neither a ladies man, Ekaym wondered how he’d ended up like this. 

Meaning sitting on Eligo’s bed, wine in his hand, head a bit dull from herbs and alcohol, with the wizard close to them. Lesraniza’s shoulder touched his and her silken excuse for a dress offered so much exposed skin. Ekaym found himself unable to look away, to ignore the soft lines of her body and her smile. 

Her beauty left him speechless. 

Again. 

Ever since meeting her, she’d been on his mind constantly. 

Ekaym closed his eyes and tried to just enjoy the moment. 

Candles lit the room and heavy drapes kept them hidden from the moon and stars. Some heavy essence wavered through the air. Sage? Musk? It calmed the senses and his mind and it fit with Eligos’ new home. 

Eligos watched them warely, eyes wandering to Lesraniza, but ever so often also lingering on Ekaym’s face as if looking for an invitation to join them. 

Ekaym found his voice. “What are we celebrating?” 

Chuckling, Eligos refilled their glasses. “I’ve been given a second chance. I want to make the most of it.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Ekaym knew about Eligos’ death and its implications. Tragedy seemed to follow them around these days. All three of them had faced too much darkness and hardship during these last month and maybe, maybe, this could be the beginning of something new, something more. 

Though, Ekaym wasn’t sure if drinking helped with making rational decisions. 

“It does make sense.” Lesraniza put her hand on his cheek, golden eyes warm, and Ekyam took the offered wine and ignored how her closeness brought him on the edge of sanity. 

Lesraniza’s voice sounded more like a whisper. “We're celebrating, yes?”

Ekaym turned around and kissed the knuckles on her hand. “I’m inclined to see where this celebration is taking us.”

“Music to my ears.” Eligo stepped forwards to reach for Lesraniza. He easily pulled her up and close and Ekaym followed their movements.

His heart was already beating too hard and fast and heat rose to his cheeks. 

No way back now.

Ekaym put his hands on her hips, drawing her close, and pushing his groin against her behind. Eligos didn’t waste more time but pressed his lips against Lesraniza’s throat, following a path down to her collarbones.

He felt goosebumps on her skin and a soft moan escaped her lips. He’d heard that sound before and it never failed to arouse him. Ekaym felt his cock push against his now too tight trousers. 

Damn.

A wave of black hair tickled his skin as Ekaym bared Lesraniza shoulders. Her skin seemed soft and inviting beneath his mouth and he carefully slipped the dress from her shoulders. 

“Please.” Her words echoed through the silent room and Eligos helped pull down the rest of the fabric. Both men stayed clothed, while Lesraniza shivered beneath their attention, clearly enjoying being positioned between them.

Eligos’ green eyes appeared dark as he soaked in her nakedness. “Hm. Delightful.” He touched her lips and chin, trailing lower with every second, as if trying to feel every inch of Lesraniza. He circled her breasts, making sure to tease her a bit, before closing his mouth around her already erect nipples. 

Lesraniza moaned. Louder this time. Ekaym steadied her wavering body with his strength, caressing her hips. “Shhht, it’s alright. Let yourself enjoy this.” His words betrayed his own nervousness, but seeing her so exposed and eager drowned out any doubt. 

Eligos appeared more sure of his movements, as he got on his knees. Ekaym put a trail of featherlight kisses on her shoulders and neck and graced her skin with his teeth, while Eligos pushed Lesraniza’s legs further apart, exposing even more parts of her body to the air. 

He continued kissing her stomach and mound then.

“I ... “ Lesraniza's whole body shivered. Ekaym put his arms around her and pushed her hair over her shoulder to kiss her exposed back. 

“I’ve dreamt of this.” Eligos whispered against Lesraniza’s thighs and pushed his tongue between her wet folds. He didn’t use his hands, just sucked and nibbled and kissed her most sensitive parts. 

Lesraniza grabbed Eligos’ hair and pushed her hips even harder against Ekaym. Her bare ass rubbed against his clothed cock, creating delicious friction. She had to knew. Awful tease. With his free hand, he opened his trousers and let them fall to the floor. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. 

Wetness already pooled around the tip and he grabbed himself to spread it further along his cock. 

“Come for us.” Ekaym closed a hand around her neck, careful not to put too much pressure on her, and leaned forwards, forcing her to feel his cock hard against her backside.

Lesraniza turned sideways and put her small hand around Ekaym. For a second, he seemed surprised but enjoyed her fingers too much to endulge his thougts. Her movements felt sloppy and lacked a certain coordination, but with Eligos pushing her closer to the edge, Ekaym didn’t mind.

Her orgasm came in waves, forcing her whole self to tremble. 

She almost screamed. Ekaym put his hand on her mouth to dampen her moans, holding her in a strong embrace, while she rocked against him.  Poor servants didn’t need to hear them. 

Eligos didn’t mind her almost riding his face, rubbing herself against his mouth and chin as if she’d lost control of herself. 

Lesraniza licked his palm and Ekaym felt her smile against his hand. 

Faster than anticipated, she crawled onto bed, pulling both men with her. Eligos wiped his face clean quickly, before resting his back against the wall. 

Lesraniza followed his thoughts, opened his trousers and put his hands around his cock, carefully gliding her fingers up and down. She leaned forward to take Eligos into her mouth, tongue playing with the tip, following the veins on his shaft. 

The sight of her head bobbing up and down made Ekaym too aware of his own needy erection. 

The wizard moaned and tried to find some support with the bedding and failed. 

Her raised hips were an invitation that Ekaym followed all too eagerly. She was so wet and ready, her ashen cheeks flushed. He saw her full breasts rubbing against the sheets and her lips closed around Eligos’ cock. 

Ekaym balanced himself on the bed, grabbing her hips to steady his movements. He entered her with a forceful thrust, sending them all off balance. Not that one dared to complain. Heat and tightness guided his motions as he pulled out, only to trust harder the second time. Lesraniza pushed her body against his cock, while keeping Eligos’ between her lips. 

Damn. Damn. Damn.

It felt too good, too perfect. He’d never experienced wanting someone like this, feeling her move around him. 

With his hands on her hips, Ekaym dictated a fast rhythm. He didn’t want to last for long. He just wanted to come, to mark her. A desperate need engulfed him, accompanied by the sound of flesh slapping against each other.

Eligos finished before him. 

Ekaym saw traces of white dripping from Lesraniza’s mouth and followed with a low moan. The sight had been too much. He kept her hips closed against him, buried deep inside her. His body rocked forwards and he hoped that he didn’t bruise her skin with his tight grip.

Ekaym collapsed against Lesraniza, searching for a way to calm his breathing. For a minute, stars danced in his eyes and he wondered, if Eligos had somehow spiced their wine with something more than just alcohol. 

“Well, that was a first.” Eligos’ smiled and rolled around to grab some water. 

Thankfully, his words broke the strange tension between them.

“Hm.” He let go of Lesraniza and settled down on a blanket. She followed suit, stretching herself between the two of them and putting her head on his chest. 

Ekaym caressed Lesraniza’s hair and longed for a long, hot bath (preferable with her also in the same tube). Some of his muscles protested against being used so much and now offered a healthy dose of pain. Probably a sign that even as a merchant he should train a bit more. 

He felt drowsy but satisfied and surprisingly a bit shy about the whole encounter. But with Lesraniza resting on his chest doubts seemed far away. 

“Can we …” Lesraniza bit her lip. “Do this again.” Ekaym blushed and looked to Eligos, who just nodded and laughed, his golden earring sparkling in the dim light.

“Of course.” Ekaym answered, before overthinking his answer and a shared future. “As often as you like, my dear. 

[spilledinkstories]

Be A Time Lord, and Pass Your Own Vibe Check

I’ve struggled to put together a review for this, but I’ve taken an interest in this kind of writing recently, so...here goes. I promised myself I would review the books I read this year lol, and...

I started reading a couple “self help” books this year. 

And “Stop Doing That Sh*t” by Gary John Bishop is kind of the self help book for people who don’t want to be dazzled by, well, bullshit. 

Rather than trying to shower you with glitter and sprinkles, platitudes and promises that you hold the keys to your future...you know, the kind of stuff you think some infomercial guy might turn into an audiobook with serene music in the background...

yeah, this isn’t that. 

This guy shoves your own nonsense in your face and says “ya like the smell of that cookin’?” 

He basically says “waddup nerd, this is your psychology and you should make an effort to understand it, so you can accept it.” 

There’s literally a quote toward the end where he says the most pure form of human acceptance is the general way we perceive a lightbulb: not positive, not negative, we literally have no opinion on if its good or bad, it is just a lightbulb. Or a clothes hamper. It’s just a hamper. No “charge or reaction to” the thing, is how he phrases it. It just is, and we give it no second thoughts.

And he says that’s how you need to learn to view your insecurities and negative thoughts toward the world. You can’t outrun, outsmart, or outwork the core conceptions (there are 3, and he spends a lot of time explaining them, but basically deep-rooted values that colour how you’ve trained yourself to “survive”. they’re usually negative beliefs, and they are central to how you behave). So he says understand and accept them, and you can pivot away from certain reactions because you’ll be able to see them coming. 

Like, that’s the book. 

It doesn’t dare you to stop hitting your snooze button. 

It doesn’t bring up running marathons, or hitting a personal best in weight lifting or getting through your never ending to-be-read pile because you’ll finally start reading in the evening instead of watching TV. 

He doesn’t point to a path that he thinks will be your version of success. It’s more like “you know your own dreams, and here’s why you’ve been standing in your own way”, and I find psychology interesting so it was an interesting take on this kinda stuff.

Literally he says you should just work on being self-aware for a while. Why don’t you want to try with things that you say you want? He calls it “self sabotage” and it’s to do with the core negative beliefs you hold.

He spends the last lil chunk of the book saying once you’ve got that down, you know what core beliefs tend to make you throw everything to the dogs (like being insecure or fearing you’re not enough stopping you from taking great job opportunities or maintaining healthy relationships, or just allowing yourself to be yourself with your friends), you need to learn to accept that you can have a great life. 

A quote he puts in is “How good can you stand it”, which weirdly is something I thought about before reading this? That’s a bit “self-helpy”, I get that, but like...if you could have a so called “perfect” life, your absolute dream life...then what? would you be able to keep it? This guy is a life coach and he says it’s a super real problem. 

He says you get addicted to your beliefs. So if you believe life is a struggle, absence of struggle in your life can make you uncomfortable because it would force you to find a new definition of life, causing you to self destruct (gamble away money, ruin relationships, etc), because self destructing puts you back at square one which is comfortable. It allows you to maintain damaging beliefs (yeah this book is brutally honest at times lol).

He literally says people self destruct because it allows them to avoid growth/change, and stay comfy.

The last bit, I really liked, and it reminded me a bit of another book Atomic Habits by James Clear, kind of about identifying yourself with what you want, not what you have been.

He throws in a quote that goes something like “we assume the past drives the future”, that those core beliefs and preconceived notions dictate what is possible for later life. That you can’t break the cycle, that time is linear.

He suggests instead to really hold in your mind’s eye what you want: career, living situation, partner, blah blah blah, and then break that down into milestones, and then into baby steps, and then start walking. 

forget what systems you lived by before, cause they don’t work. You’ll stay stuck.

He argues not to predict your future based on now, but to dream a future and then start peeling away everything that isn’t that. 

He uses the example of Michelangelo chipping away everything that wasn’t the statue of David, as he famously said he believed David to be underneath all that rock the whole time. He gets into this because I guess we all grow up with caps on what we deem possible - our parents made this much, so we aim for X, and too much excess is just out of bounds. Which I guess makes sense (and as a personal aside I disagree with his statement that “gratitude has been done to death”. Knowing how to be happy with a little is important, I think. Define your values and know what matters).

Use the future to inform your next steps, he’s saying, and recognize your own wiring and internal monologue, so you can sense your own bullshit from a mile away and do one of those pivots that Ross is so fond of. So if you do get the life you dreamed of, you don’t screw it up once you're there. 

You have the backbone to find a new dream.

***

Cons:

he doesn’t say much about positivity, which ironically I really felt the lack of, even though going in he promised none of it and I found it refreshing.

 I think that if you’re gonna pay this much attention to your own thought patterns, you should build in habits of gratitude and like...recognition of all the things that can and do go right.  I think for some people, a starting point of “lemme see everything I’m doing wrong in my mind” could go sideways pretty quickly. If you’re new to that kind of thing, I would say approach it slowly and with caution and take breaks. You’re not setting out to beat yourself up. Just observe. Don’t judge. Take field notes, and do experiments with reacting differently to things and take field notes again. Let yourself be. 

I also don’t think that you should ignore your intuition. There are times where it’s good to pass on relationships or opportunities or jobs. Don't push yourself to do things for the wrong reasons - I guess that would count as self sabotage too. 

TL;DR He’s really just saying get to know yourself so you can steer your own ship effectively. 

Anyway. 

This was way more rant-y than I intended it to be but oh well this is my blog lol.

2020/Covid/suddenly living in the slow lane led me to do some internal maintenance this year, and I've been interested in being responsible for my own psychology for years, so...I thought I’d share my thoughts. :)

also it is late there are probably spelling mistakes too bad lol

[doodlebless]

Chapter 2: I fear your smile and the promise inside

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Blood, whump (13 whump), hurt/comfort Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Whittaker!Master, Dhawan!Doctor Summary: Two Doctors meet, one familiar face to another Chapter: 2/? Words: 1873 Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/23595385/chapters/56678236

The Master hummed as she approached the boxes the convenient little trail of blood had led her to. She did love to let her prey know the chase was coming to an end. She took a more careful route than the Doctor, clambering over the boxes that were stacked more like steps than attempting to vault them. A victorious smirk plastered on her face, she looked over the edge.

Her face faltered.

She found no Doctor there; all that remained was her sword, as blemished with blood as the ground around it, and words roughly scrawled into the gravel. ‘IT’S ALL YOURS ’. Her lips pulled into a snarl.

The hunt was far from over yet.

The Doctor stumbled through the industrial estate, sticking to the back paths to avoid detection. She was pretty sure by this point she’d have stuck out far too much if she attempted to blend into any crowds. She leant her shoulder against the side of a building, furiously wiping away the blood that remained on her hands onto her trousers, ignoring the ache in her palms. They already looked a mess anyway, caring about them now was pointless. The sensation was awful; she was still forcing her body to recover much faster than usual, the energy seeping from her body, leaving her head pounding and freshly knitted skin to prickle and ache. She blinked hard, vision wavering as she pushed herself away from the wall and steadied herself. She drew in a deep shaky breath and continued onwards, fingers brushing against the building, just in case she needed support.

This place is a maze, she thought to herself as she carried on her way, eyes heavy-lidded and each breath a little more forced than she’d like to admit. But she’d been in mazes before, she could handle this. Probably. If her head was a little clearer, definitely. No time for ‘ifs’ though, she thought back at herself, brow furrowing as the long path ahead seemed to stretch on for miles, walls warping around her. Can’t wait for the stars to align to make the perfect escape, after all.

Oh, how she knew that to be true.

“Hey, you!” It was like a sudden injection of energy had been forced into her upon hearing a familiar male voice shout. Her shoulders hunched, eyes widened and hearts stuttering slightly in panic. Turning around slowly, she rested her back against the wall, turning her head the rest of the way to see the second sight of the day that had left her feeling like she’d just been punched in her already tender stomach.

Just like before, she knew the face well. She’d never forget the first time she saw it, the way he’d laughed as Barton’s plane was ripped apart, her fam’s lives almost cut short then and there. But she’d never seen such wide-eyed concern on that face. The suspicion also there, however, was understandable, if her feelings were anything to go by.

He was already close before her brains could catch up, but she couldn’t ignore the way his eyes scanned her up and down from a few metres away. The Doctor couldn’t help but smile slightly, letting out a small snort of tired amusement. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said quietly. “Scan me. You’ll see.”

He did so immediately, pulling out his own sonic and checking the diagnostics. And then a second time. Didn’t seem like the chatty kind. How strange.

“You can’t be,” he finally said, gaze flitting between his sonic and the woman looking back at him tiredly. “That’s not possible.”

“Said the same thing when I met her,” the Doctor managed, attempting to stand freely of the wall, but settling not-so-casually resting her shoulder against it. The man’s eyes widened, a brief roar of thunder behind them before he reined it back.

“She’s nearby?” He looked behind him, as if the mere mention would summon her. “I followed some strange energy readings, but I had no idea she was behind it.”

“Nothing to do with her.” She finally managed to stand on her own, as much as her body protested with exhaustion. “I just ran into her while searching for answers. Wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.”

“But how are you—?” He was cut short as the woman’s knees buckled suddenly, moving forward to keep her from falling. He shook his head. “Later. What happened? Did the Master do this to you?” Hearing him ask that in that voice was more than a little surreal, she would admit.

“Yeah. Messed me up a bit, I managed to accelerate the healing to get away—faster than I’ve managed before, but…” She scrunched her eyes shut as a wave of dizziness passed over her. “But I think I’ve just about drained myself for the next few hours. Bit of a catch-22.” She slumped further as he positioned her arm around his shoulder, his own arm around her waist and hoisted her properly to her feet.

“We should keep moving. I’ll take you to my TARDIS.”

“Yeah...TARDIS…” the Doctor mumbled hazily. “Sounds good.”

He placed her carefully on the floor at the base of the TARDIS console. She looked around as the details swam in and out of focus. It was a lot whiter than her own TARDIS, even if the lighting was bit gloomy, and a lot more simplified apart from the usual details on the console, she was sure. He seemed like a very straightforward, no nonsense kind of guy. None of the flourish she’d expect a man sharing his face to have, all things considered.

Her eyes drifted closed as she hung her head, thinking of her own TARDIS. Where had it—

She was dragged from her thoughts as she felt fingers brush against her temple. Wincing away, she nearly crashed sideways, planting her hand firmly onto the floor to keep her balance. The man— the Doctor, she had to admit by now—pulled his hand away. “My sonic detected remnants of a concussion,” he spoke with a slight stutter.” I’m sorry, I was—”

“S’fine,” she replied, wafting her hand lazily towards him. She fumbled into her pocket and pulled her own sonic out. His was a lot more…carefully designed? Not that she’d change hers for anything, but she hadn’t had the luxury of the TARDIS presenting her with a new sonic, back when she regenerated. She supposed this Doctor had. Scanning herself briefly, she gave herself a second opinion. “I’ll be all good.” She gave a sleepy smile and a thumbs up.

“The internal injuries have healed, I take it?” She blinked at the question.

“How did you—?” The man shook his head.

“The blood at the corner of your mouth. You’re not talking like you’ve bitten your tongue, so I would guess…” He poked at her stomach very lightly with his sonic. “...That your problem lay a little deeper.”

“Got me there, detective,” she said with a breathy laugh.

“Please, call me the—”

“The Doctor. I know.” She shrugs. “You know I know.”

The ‘Alt-Doctor’—or would that be her, considering this isn’t her universe?—let out a breath through his nose and stood up. “Very well, Doctor.” He moved to the controls, adjusting a few switches here and there, each one with a satisfying clunk or click. “So if your arrival here was purely your own doing, where is your TARDIS? I can take you back to her—”

“She’s gone. Threw me out.” She sounded so defeated at the words. “Don’t know what even happened, one minute I was there, the next...nothing. I’m just...here.”

“I see.” He fell quiet again, returning to his tinkering.

“Aren’t you worried she’s going to find us?” she asks suddenly, craning her head to look at him.

“She won’t get in.”

“‘S’not her getting in I’m worried about,” she mumbles. “If she’s anything like the Master in my universe, a little detail like that won’t stop her.”

“And does your Master look like..?”

“Yeah. He does.”

The silence that descended over them was heavy, both getting lost in their thoughts. The Doctor’s musings were a lot more muddled than usual as her body worked past the exhaustion. Speeding up her healing so much was like borrowing energy from her future self—too bad it was always needed when she couldn’t afford to be tired.

“We could…” She thought out loud, shuffling her position to get comfortable, trying to ignore the twinges from her stomach. “We could swap some stories? Get a feel for what’s the same or not.”

“Maybe later.”

“Got time now, haven’t we?” She leant forward and crossed her legs, resting her hands on her knees and frowning at the blood smeared on her. She must’ve looked a right sight when he found her. Still did, really. She took the silence as a go-ahead. “So...any companions?” The brief freeze in his movements didn’t pass her by.

“Just one. Will.”

She makes a little ‘ahh’ in response. “Nice name. Is he around? Don’t want to scare him, all covered in blood like this.”

A brief moment passes. “No,” he replied, voice low. “He’s with his family.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “And you?”

“Ryan, Graham and Yaz,” she replied, pride creeping into her voice. “But they’re back in their own universe.”

“Three?” he said disbelievingly. “Isn’t that a little much? Sounds more like a field trip.”

“Oh no, it’s brilliant,” she replied with a grin. “We split up, get so much more covered. They’re all fantastic.” He let out a quiet ‘hmm’, still focused on the console. A few minutes passed in silence. She never got on with silence very well. Even the humming of the TARDIS did nothing. It wasn’t her TARDIS, after all.

“A-ha!” The Alt-Doctor’s sudden exclamation had the Doctor jumping out of her skin, her lingering aches protesting from the sharp movement. “I do believe I’ve found your TARDIS.”

She sprang to her feet, grabbing hold of the console as the world shifted around her. Okay, she wasn’t as patched up as she’d hoped. Better, though. She’d give herself that. Looking over to the Alt-Doctor, the grin plastered on his face sent a chill down her spine. How could the same expression hold such a different meaning? She never really saw herself in action so the uncanniness of this universe’s Master’s expressions were somewhat lost to her, but this universe’s version of the Doctor? Oh no, she knew these expressions too well. Knew those eyes too well too.

It was honestly a bit frightening.

She swallowed it down. It must be the same strange swarm of emotions for him, too.That and she had little choice but to trust him.

“So where is it?” she asked, collecting herself as his grin faded to something more serious.

“That’s the bad news.” He pointed at one of his screens, indicating a small flashing dot. “As you can see, we’ll have to go by foot. I can’t afford to get my TARDIS close.”

“But that’s…” She looked directly at him. “That can’t be.”

“But it is…” He stepped back, as if it would give him some grander picture. “Doctor...you’ve torn a whole in this universe...and your TARDIS stands right at the precipice.”

[onedayiwillflyfree]

When the Sun Begins to Fall Chapter Nine: Roy

TW: talks of suicide and depression/anxiety

Read the full story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21255530/chapters/50608787

                                                     ----

“Your mother and I have worked too damn hard to ensure your future and here you are trying to throw it away? You’re a disgrace, you’re filth. An embarrassment to the Gardner name.” The eldest son of the Gardner family held the half empty bottle of whisky to his lips as he stared out into the never ending sea. Waves crashed high against the pier, their anger growing with the incoming storm. A particularly enraged one flew high, soaking through his shoes and socks. He couldn’t feel it anymore though, his toes had gone numb around the fourth swig of the bottle. Tears dropped, freezing to his cheeks in the frigid February winds. “You will take a wife, she will bear your children, and you will be the perfect husband and businessman. You will not sully our good name because you want to galavant around like a goddamn ponce.”

“Sod off, you prick.” Roy mumbled into the bottle as the liquid fire slid down his throat. When he was a boy, he swore that he would never be a drinking man like his father, but as he got older, he began to get these attacks that would make his heart race and the drink seemed to be the only thing that could calm him. He would never drink too much, only just a nip but today, he needed an extra dose of courage.

It was quiet where he was, only a few brave souls wandering the streets but no one paid him any mind. Nor should they have, the temperature was well below freezing. They were in a hurry, trying to make it to their destination without catching their death, which would only take a few hours. Four hours to be precise. He knows, he calculated that when he was in the early stages of planning how he wanted his life to end. 

He had considered  lying down on a park bench and slowly letting his body shut down. It seemed like a very good option. He would most certainly be found quickly and it would cause quite the scandal for his parents. But then, with it being so public, he also ran into the problem of others recognizing him and dragging him home. No, freezing to death wouldn’t work. 

His mind traveled through so many different options. Each more morbid than the last but none quite appealing to him. He wanted his death to be meaningful to him.

That was when his mind went to the sea. Roy had always adored the water, considering it to be vast with possibilities and wonder. Water in the ocean was free, uncontrollable..something that he had always desired. His thoughts then wandered to a book he had read a few months ago on one of his private nighttime strolls. Within that book, the main character has her own awakening within the water of the ocean, much like his own awakening when he was swimming with Matthew Clyde in the sixth grade. And much like Edna Pontellier, his story would also end with his final descent into the ocean. Yes, the sea would work just fine.

So there he stood, downing a bottle of the finest whiskey the bartender would allow him (after throwing it on his father's tab, of course) staring out at what would soon become his tomb. It would be cold, sure. It would hurt, of course. But he would be free, finally free the chains that had bound him his entire life. 

He swallowed the last drop before he threw the bottle behind him, not caring who would step on the shards of glass that were now littering the pier. It was time, Roy was ready. He took a few steps back, ready to throw himself over the rail. Earlier, he decided that he didn’t want his last thoughts to be fear, he wanted to think of the last time he felt true happiness. His mind wandered to the handsome artist with strawberry blonde hair that would tickle his face as they kissed, his blue eyes that looked like a cloudless summer morning. Roy swallowed, smiling ever so slightly at the solace the nameless man he had met only but one time brought him. Yes, he would miss him.

One step, then another, he quickened his pace ready to throw himself over the rail. 

CRASH! Roy was knocked sideways, landing in the icy snow with a hard thud. “What the bloody hell?” He mumbled, rubbing his shoulder that was most certainly going to bruise.

Roy looked up, his gaze connecting with the most peculiar and panicked ginger-haired woman. “Oh my word! I am so deeply sorry! Are you alright? I lose my head whenever I am deeply in thought, Marilla says it will be my death, but I find myself coming from the most frightfully frustrating situations and I was hoping that taking a walk could help me clear my head before tea. But oh look! I have gone and run into somebody again! Stupid, you’re so stupid.” He was unsure if she was talking to him or if she was scolding herself as he cocked an eyebrow. Her eyes widened as she sputtered, her entire face darkening three shades of pink. “Oh no, not you. I was referring to myself. I am the stupid one, I ran into you after all! I’m sure you are of incredible intelligence.” She shook her head, realizing she was talking nonsense to a man who was sitting in a pile of snow. “Here,” she extended her hand out. “Let me help you.”

Still confused and unsure of what just happened, he hesitantly took the strange womans hand and much to his surprise she pulled him up with ease. Roy dusted the snow from his pants as the woman continued rambling. “I am truly, terribly sorry sir. I do hope you can forgive me. But as I said, whenever my mind is burdened I tend to forget myself and my mind is definitely most troubled at the moment. I… I am talking too much, aren’t I?” He was unsure what to say or if she would even let him get in a word edgewise, so instead he shook his head. “Oh, you’re too kind, truly. I have been so rude, haven’t I? Rambling on and on without so much as a proper introduction. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. And if you ever feel so inclined to spell it, Anne is spelled with an E.” She extended her hand once more, only this time hoping he would shake it.

He accepted it, giving it two firm shakes.“Uh, Roy. Royal Gardner.” 

Anne beamed, grasping tighter to his hand. “Well, Royal Gardner, it is ever so lovely to make your acquaintance. Even though I do wish the meeting could have happened another way besides my running into you.”

“Um, well, it’s quite alright. I was just…” His words drifted away from him as he stared out into the ocean. Anne’s face softened, her gaze following his. 

“You know, I’ve always liked when the ocean was like this.” She dropped his hand, gliding over to the railing where she peered over the edge. 

Who is this woman? Roy thought to himself, still confused more than he had probably ever been in his nineteen years. He knew he should walk away, he had a plan to finish but there was something about this fire haired woman that captivated him. It was almost as if she had put a spell on him. He stepped closer to rail, this time having zero desire to jump, only curiosity for what she was going to say next. “I’ve always liked it when the waters are so rough that it appears every wave is fighting against one another.”

“That’s different.” He said, still unable to pull his eyes away from this mysterious woman. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear, her fingers were quivering from the bitter air.

“I suppose it is. But there is nothing wrong with being different in my opinion.” Her eyes never left the battling waters as a smile grew on her lips. “Society looks down upon those who do not follow the norms that they have put in place. They want everyone to remain steady, to know their place and follow preset paths. But to me, people are like waves. No wave is the same and not a single person is the same. Don’t you think?” She peered over to Roy, who was hanging tightly to every word she spoke. Somewhere in the distance, the clock struck three and her face dropped. “Oh no! I am going to be late!” 

She pushed past Roy, who was stunned by her sudden departure. This woman, who had just crashed into his life so suddenly was running out of it just as quick. He wanted to let her go, to never see her again and go continue with his plan but something nagged at the back of his mind. “Wait! I have a question, Miss,” he cried, chasing her down the pier. She slowed her pace, allowing her to catch him. 

“Yes?” Her smile was so soft that he knew it could calm the most intense storms.

“You said people are like oceans?” She nodded as he fought to catch his breath. “So… why… do you like these types of water? Couldn’t that be seen as the bad in people.”

Anne’s smile widened. “I suppose some could. But I prefer to see it as something else entirely.” He nodded, urging her to continue. “I see the rough seas as a conflict within a person. Their thoughts and feelings going to war with one another when life gets difficult.” Roy tried not to react but his eyes began to burn and he knew it wasn’t just from the chill in the air. “But then, when life begins to get easier, that war calms, much like the sea after a storm. Does that make any sense?”

Roy tears poured over the lids of his eyes as he nodded. He tried to hide his eyes but it was too late, she had seen and offered him a handkerchief lined with purple and pink flowers. Anne looked down the road, allowing Roy a minute to dry his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered as he handed her back the cloth. 

She accepted it as a devilish smirk danced on her lips. “Mr. Gardner, forgive me for being bold but how would you like to join my friend and I for tea?” 

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude…” 

Anne wrapped her arm within his and began dragging him along side her. “Nonsense! Cole loves company! Oh, I am sure you two will simply adore one another. He’s an artist, you know.”

-------

Gilbert’s head felt like it was going to explode. Roy’s story and confession mixed with being slammed against the wall earlier was making thinking way more difficult than it needed to be. “You’re telling me… that Anne…”

“Saved my life.” Roy finished for him, rolling his eyes as he took large strides towards Green Gables. “I just said that. Keep up.” His pace quickened, practically breaking into a run as he left the group behind. Gilbert walked alongside Cole, while Diana and Jerry trailed behind, walking close enough that their fingers would occasionally graze against the others. Gilbert pinched the bridge of his nose, he really couldn’t deal with another secret relationship. 

“Sorry about Royal,” Cole said, not taking his eyes off of his love but offered a polite smile. “His temper has gotten a lot better, but he slips up on occasion. He is actually pretty great once you get to know him.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sure.” Gilbert rubbed the back of his head, where an egg sized lump had begun to form. His eyes drifted to Cole, feeling instantly remorseful when he noticed his lip had been bleeding. “Sorry about your lip.”

Cole smirked, shaking his head. “You know, I warned him to not pick a fight with you, told him that he would probably lose. But whenever Anne is upset, he becomes incredibly protective over her.” He peered over to Gilbert. “Suppose he is like you in that sense.” Gilbert raised an eyebrow in confusion. Cole chuckled. “Hey, don’t deny it. I saw Billy’s shiner the day after you decked him.”

Gilbert bit his lip, he had totally forgotten about the first time he let his anger get the better of him. The right hook to Billy Andrews face had been a long time coming and had been incredibly satisfying, even if it left his knuckles throbbing the following morning. He looked at his knuckles. They had stopped bleeding thankfully, but they were caked with dirt and grime.

“Oh no,” Cole mumbled, Gilbert looked up to see a furious Marilla scolding Roy as if he were a small child. His stomach dropped, he would take a fist to the face over receiving one of Marilla’s scoldings any day.

“Of all the childish and selfish things you boys could have gone and done, a fight? In my clean kitchen no less?!” Marilla’s voice was sharp. Her gaze never left Roy, but she pointed a harsh finger directly at Gilbert. “Over here. Now.”

Gilbert swallowed, stepping slowly towards what could be his eminent doom. He took his place next to a nervous Roy while Marilla glared at both of them. Over the course of his life, he had not found himself afraid often, but he knew that the look Marilla was giving Roy and he would haunt him for the rest of his days. “Marilla…” 

“Don’t you Marilla me.” He cowered, remembering days ago standing in the very same spot and her being overjoyed to embrace him. She crossed her arms. “Honestly, I expected more from both of you!” She scoffed, focusing fully on Gilbert. “Especially you, Gilbert. I know for a fact that John raised you better.”

Her words stung, as if she was physically smacking him with each syllable. Marilla was right. Even though his father had taught him to stand up to injustice and to always protect those he loved, he threw the first punch on a purely selfish reason. He couldn’t meet her eyes as heat crept upon his cheeks. 

“Miss Cuthbert…” Roy’s voice sounded confident, but he flinched when Marilla shot her daggers at him once more. “Ma’am, Gilbert… well it wasn’t all his fault. I said some rather vulgar words towards him…” He swallowed as Gilbert slowly lifted his eyes towards the man he had almost pulverized just moments before. What was he doing?  Roy cleared his throat as Marilla looked on impatiently. “Cole and Anne, well they have told me that I have a horrible temper and it is something I am trying to improve. Gilbert…” he hesitated, as if the next words were sour in his mouth. “Well, Gil just knocked some sense into me.” Roy smiled and held out his hand. “Gil, I apologize for my childish actions.”

Gilbert had to hinge his jaw in order for it to not fall to the floor as he took Roy’s hand cautiously, really unsure if the apology was genuine or just for show. Roy squeezed Gilbert’s hand, digging his fingers into his scabbed knuckles. Well, that answers that. “And I apologize for hitting you… multiple times.” Gilbert said the words cordially enough, but he squeezed Roy’s hand with every ounce of strength he had left. The men looked up to Marilla, hands still locked and each one trying to squeeze harder than the other, and flashed boyish grins. 

Her hawk eyes appeared unconvinced but after the events of this whole weekend, she was too exhausted to care. “I expect better from both of you from now on.” They nodded frantically, much like two schoolboys who had just escaped a lashing from their marm. “Good. Diana,” Diana pulled away from Jerry and straightened. “Boil some water for these two, they will not be stepping in my house until they have washed themselves.”

Gilbert looked down, realizing just how dirty both he and Roy had gotten. His shirt was covered in dirt and grass stains, Roy being worse off than him. His entire back was caked with mud, his hair slowly falling out from its gelled form, and his lip had a small cut on the right hand corner. 

Diana nodded, “Yes Marilla. I’ll go get that started.” She took timid steps away from Jerry.

Marilla pursed her lips, keenly aware that Diana wouldn’t leave him first. “Jerry, have you milked Prejudice this morning?” 

A blush arose on his cheeks. “No ma’am. I’ll go do that now.” Jerry turned and walked away quickly, casting a brief glance to Diana before heading into the barn.

Marilla sighed and mumbled. “You children will be the death of me.” She looked back over the men and pointed to the steps below her. “Sit right here, Diana will be out shortly after she brings Anne up some water as well.” She stopped short, holding the door open for Diana and Cole. “I trust you two are going to be civil.”

“Yes ma’am.” They said in unison. For two men that were not fond of the other, Gilbert was starting to realize they may be more similar than he originally thought.

“Good.” Marilla followed Diana and Cole through the door, leaving the two men alone in silence.

Roy and Gilbert exchanged glances and pulled apart, Roy wiping his hand on his dirty pants as if the germs he received from the handshake were worse than the mud. Gilbert rolled his eyes and looked down at the daylily bushes that had broken his fall earlier. He bent down, trying his best to fluff the fallen buds and leaves, but they continued to droop sadly. “Anne’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled to himself. 

Roy chuckled from the steps where he had decided to rest. “That’s for sure.” Gilbert rolled his eyes once more, not wanting to cause new tensions. Roy bit his lip, realizing he was behaving poorly and rubbed the back of his neck. “So… Anne told me you helped her plant those after Matthew died.” 

Be civil. Gilbert packed the soil around the plant to assist it in standing upright. “Yeah...I did. She had a rough go of it for a while after he passed. One day she made sixteen apple pies...” 

“Sixteen? That’s impressive,” Roy laughed genuinely. 

Gilbert smirked. “Delicious too. Pretty sure all of Avonlea gained ten pounds that day. We figured we needed to find a healthier outlet for her.” He wiped his nose, the chill in the air was beginning to make it run. “So when she suggested that Green Gables had become gray without him, we went on a search for any vendors that still had blooms left. Could only find these but they brought her joy, so it made me happy.” 

Roy nodded, eyes trailing to the flowers. “Well they’re beautiful. She said whenever we found a home that she wanted to transfer some of the bushes from here. She played it off that she simply wanted a piece of home... but secretly I think she wanted something to remind her of you.” Gilbert looked away from the flowers as sadness crept in. “So you’re really not gonna ask me, are you?” Roy asked. 

Gilbert met his eyes. “Ask you what?” 

It was Roy’s turn to roll his eyes. “All the questions that are swarming through that tiny brain of yours.” He tapped his temple. Gilbert bit his lip, earning an exasperated sigh from Roy. “Alright, here’s some samples for you: Why would Anne want to marry me even though she knew I could never desire her for anything more than her friendship? What exactly is mine and Coles relationship? Why was I being such an ass to you if I wasn’t in love with Anne? Take your pick.”

Gilbert swallowed harshly. Every question Roy had stated had swam through his head and he knew he wanted answers to all of them. Roy smirked and patted the deck next to him. “Common Gil, ask me anything.”

The standing man considered this, before he sat down on the porch a little farther than Roy’s hand. “Alright. Well let’s start with the first one. Diana said the engagement was Anne’s idea...”

“It was,” Roy said bluntly. 

“If she knew about...” he carefully considered his words. “About your lack of desire for her, why would she offer to marry you?”

Roy sighed and leaned back on his elbows, staring out to the horizon. “Well it’s like Cole said. She wanted to help protect the two of us. My family, as I’m sure you gathered, aren’t the most accepting folks. Probably would’ve had me arrested if it wouldn’t cause such a scandal for them.” Gilbert knitted his eyebrows together. How could parents do something so cruel to their own son? “Instead, they threatened to disown me. Honestly it wouldn’t be a huge deal, I’m sure I could figure out my way on my own… but I have two sisters and a brother that are my world and I couldn’t bare to lose them.”

Gilbert cocked an eyebrow. “So instead you tried to end your life?”

“Yeah, wasn't my best plan now was it,” Roy said with a chuckle. “Anyway. The day I met Anne, she too was bothered. Turns out she had been having trouble with a publisher and her book.” Anne had written him about that. That letter had been difficult for him to read. It had been smudged in various places from what he had assumed were her tears. He almost hopped on the next steamer out of Paris right then and there. “Anyway, the publisher she went to just so happens to be a friend of my old man. He is a sexist prick if you ask me, much like dear old dad.” Roy dug into his coat pocket, producing a small flask where he unscrewed the top and took a swig before turning his attention back to a shocked Gilbert. “Oh, sorry. It’s an old habit that I can’t seem to break. Cole and Anne have been helping me quit… Been doing a pretty good job but I keep it around for when... well, when this gets bad.” Gilbert looked down at Roy’s hands to see them shaking. “It’s weird, like my heart races and I start shaking. The whisky takes the edge off just enough for me to calm down.” 

Gilbert had read about people who would feel their heart racing and having these attacks that would prevent them from functioning. It was some sort of panic disorder. The texts told him that these people were mentally sick and should be thrown in an institution for treatment. But then in June, he sat in a lecture done by a woman alienist who had been practicing a new form of treatment called talk therapy. It seemed more humane and safer, and it appeared to actually be working in a lot of cases. “Roy, have you talked to anyone about what you’ve been going through? I met with this lecturer ...”

“I’m fine,” he said sternly as he took another large swig. Gilbert decided to not press. “Now back to the topic at hand.'' He tucked the flask back into his shirt and cleared his throat. “Anyway, upon realizing that I have an infatuation with Cole… Anne came up with a proposition. We would marry, appease my family so I wouldn’t be disowned and could still be in my siblings lives. Not to mention she would allow me to meet with Cole whenever I so chose. My only job was that I helped her find a decent publisher that would give her novel a chance. To her, it was the perfect plan.”

“Perfect?” Gilbert scoffed. He couldn’t believe that Anne, the romantical fire sprite that he knew and loved would come up with such a plan. “But… what if she fell in love with someone else? She would be trapped.”

Roy let our a booming laugh. “Yeah Doc, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

Gilbert lifted his eyebrows. “What do you mean? Anne is young, intelligent, wonderful… stunning.” Roy peered sideways as Gilbert looked off dreamily, his mind drifting to Anne’s ethereal beauty. Once he caught the other man staring, he shook his head. “Surely she would find a man to love her and she would love him in return.”

“Wow, are you really that dense?” Roy asked curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Gilbert asked, trying his best to not get offended. 

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed. “Let me put this plainly for you: Anne agreed to marry me because she knew she would never fall in love.”

Gilbert lifted his eyebrows. “And how could she possibly know that?”

“Oh my Lord, how did you get into medical school?” Roy groaned and adjusted himself so he was facing Gilbert head on. “Because she is already in love with someone! And he is too much of an idiot to notice it.”

His heart sank. Anne was in love with someone? “She’s in love with someone else?”

Roy grunted, fighting off a scream. “You! She is in love with you, you dense bastard!”

Gilbert felt his lungs tighten.  “Wait… what you’re saying… Anne’s in love with me?”

Roy clapped slowly. “Ladies and gentlemen, he does have a brain! Yes, you moron. Anne is in love with you. Has been for years!” Gilbert couldn’t breathe, his heart started to race and his vision blurred. Anne… loves him? Not just loves but is in love with him? 

“She loves me?” His voice came out no louder than a whisper. “Anne loves me?” He repeated still in disbelief, only this time the words were tasting sweeter. “Anne loves me!” He jumped up from the porch, he couldn’t help it. He felt like he could run to the lake of Shining Waters, perhaps even farther. Anne loves him! He wanted to scream, he wanted to announce to the world that Anne Shirley Cuthbert, the fire goddess herself was in love with him. 

“Took you long enough,” Roy rolled his eyes but a small smile crawled on his lips.

Gilbert beamed. “I have… I have to see her.” He quickly stepped towards the house, not wanting to waste a single moment, when Roy blocked his path. “Do not make me hit you again.”

He held his hands up defensively. “Look, I get it, I do. But if I’m being honest, you look and smell like a horse's rear end.” As much as Gilbert hated to admit it, Roy was right. With how bad Anne’s lungs were, he didn’t want to chance bringing more dirt and dust into her room.  Roy stepped back, plopping back down on the porch step. “Not to mention, you’re still marrying Winifred. Unless you have finally come to your senses on that matter.” Gilbert debated on whether to tell him his decision on that matter, but he was still focused on Anne’s love for him. 

He knew sitting wasn’t an option for him, so instead he paced, five steps, turn, five more steps. He was unsure how many times he repeated that process, but he could feel the annoyance radiate off of Roy, so he decided to try and sit, his leg bouncing madly. Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you calm down? You’re driving me insane.” 

Gilbert pressed his foot firmly against the ground and mumbled out a “sorry” before he blurted out. “You are right, by the way.”

“Uh, okay...” Roy said, unsure of how to respond to the declaration. 

Gilbert looked out to the horizon. “I’m not marrying Winifred. I decided last night… I don’t love her. Not like I have loved Anne. It wouldn’t be fair to her for me to keep her away from someone who could put her first.” 

“Huh. Alright. Uh, congratulations I guess?” Roy mumbled, still confused. 

He continued, not hearing Roy’s words. “I know it’s wrong, I asked her to marry me when I didn’t even understand what love was. And I thought that perhaps since she was helping me follow my dream that I loved her,” he bit his lip, keenly aware now of how much of a fool he had been. “So you’re right, I’m a selfish bastard.”

Roy knitted his eyebrows together. “Is that supposed to be an apology?” 

Gilbert turned to face the man he considered his enemy hours before. “Yeah. I guess it is.” 

Roy nodded slowly, as if to consider it he was going to accept it or not. “Well, then I’m sorry for saying the things I said about Anne. In case you haven’t realized, none of them were true.” Gilbert smirked, he had figured as much. “Anyway, truth is, I wanted to get a rise out of you. Anne shed so many tears over you, I wanted to hurt you worse than you had her. Didn’t expect it to backfire on me.”

They both looked over one another, both fighting smiles before they both let out hearty chuckles. It didn’t feel awkward, in fact it almost felt normal. Like two friends who were sharing a laugh. Gilbert smirked, holding out his hand. “So what do you say, friends?”

Roy sneered. “Hardly. I still think you’re a prick and an idiot.” Gilbert tried to not feel offended as his hand fell, only for Roy to grab it firmly. “But I will say truce. At least until you decide to be an idiot again and hurt Anne.” 

Gilbert smiled, he had no intention of making that mistake again. “Truce.” They shook, neithers grip too tight this time, a true handshake between comrades. “So, what does this mean for your engagement then?”

Roy looked back out to the horizon and dropped Gilbert’s hand. “I’ll break it off, it was selfish of me to accept the proposition in the first place.”

“What about your family?”

Roy shrugged. “I’ll tell them the truth, that I cannot marry a woman I don’t love. My siblings will hopefully understand but my parents will probably write me off, blacklist me.” He licked his lips, his eyes saddening. “But Anne will be free and for the first time, I will be too. I will be surrounded by friends and my love.”

Gilbert swallowed, nervous to ask the following question. “So you and Cole are a couple?” Roy nodded hesitantly, his body language changed and became more defensive. “So that makes you...” his voice trailed off. He was unsure of the correct term to use.

Roy chuckled coldly. “Homosexual. A fairy. A pounce. Take your pick. I’ve been called it all.” He looked away, almost as if he were ashamed of who he was. “And I know I disgust you for it too.”

“That’s not true. You nor Cole disgust me in the least,” Gilbert said sternly. Roy looked up in surprise. “Cole has been my friend since we were children. My views of him won’t change based off of whom he loves. And even though I’m not your biggest fan, Anne and Cole are apart of both of our families, so that makes you and I family in our own strange way.”

Gilbert couldn’t imagine what Roy must’ve thought he would say, but from the tears forming in his lids, he could tell it wasn’t that. “Thank you...”

“Gilbert! Gilbert!” Diana screamed from inside the house. He shot to his feet and threw open the door, ready to fly up the stairs when Diana knocked into him.

“Di, what’s wrong?!” he yelled as he caught her. 

“Anne’s turning blue! Her lips, they’re...” Gilbert didn’t let Diana finish when he pushed past her and sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He ran down the hallway and through Anne’s door, eyes catching Cole cowering in the corner. Gilbert looked to the bed where Anne’s breathing was shallow and quick, her face whiter than cotton. Except for her lips, which were normally red as a rose in bloom, now had begun to take a blue hue. She reached for him weakly, gasping.

“Hey, Anne, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” Gilbert grabbed her hand as she tried to catch her breath. Fear filled her eyes as she squeezed his hand, breaking through the freshly forming skin and letting blood drip down his hands. He needed to calm her and steady her breathing. “Anne, I need you to try and breathe in through your nose, okay? Through your nose.” It was too late now, she was panicking. He sat down on the bed next to her, trying his best to remain calm.

Roy and Diana barreled through the door, Marilla following close. She pushed past the two young adults, running to the other side. “Gilbert, what do we do?” She asked, her voice rising as she held on tightly to Anne’s arm.

Gilbert’s mind swirled, a million thoughts running through it at once. What do I do? What do I do? Medicine. What medicine? Is there any? Why can’t I think of what to do?

“Tell us what to do,” Diana asked with a shaky voice as Roy went to Cole, taking him in his arms.  Think Gilbert. Think. Gilbert tried to tune out the commotion around him, but all he could feel was everyone screaming and crying for him to fix this. His hand was throbbing from Anne’s iron grip. 

“Dammit Gil, tell us what to do!” Roy shouted as he squeezed a praying Cole tighter.

“Come on Anne,” He yelled, trying to do his breathing just as he was instructing. Through his nose, out his mouth. She looked like she was trying to understand and follow, but he could tell the pain it caused her was close to unbearable. Why couldn’t he think of what to do? This is what he was trained for.  

“Gilbert!” Diana screamed. Shut up, shut up. Everyone shut up! He looked at Anne, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. She was so afraid. Diana and Marilla were afraid. Cole and Roy were afraid. Gilbert was petrified. 

He shook his head, feeling his heart pick up the pace. He didn’t know what to do. Tears began streaming down his own cheeks as he reached forward for Anne’s face, hoping his touch would heal her. But he knew it wouldn’t. Her infection was spreading, her lungs were filling with puss, and she was in excruciating pain. And his mind was blank. 

His fingers gingerly touched her chin, wiping a tear that was sliding down. “Carrots…” 

Images flashed through his mind as she stared at him through water filled eyes. Her whacking a slate across his face the first time he called her by her dreaded nickname, dancing with her in the middle of the schoolhouse, him running to her front door when the Queens results came in, planting flowers and helping her cope, their hundreds of walks through his orchard. All of those memories and he was unsure if they were ever going to be able to make any more. 

Anne leaned into his hand as if she could read his thoughts. Her breathing was quickening, her body fighting to take in oxygen. Tears dripped from her fluttering eyes, she was going to pass out. Gilbert felt a sob rising in his throat, he felt so helpless. Anne’s grip loosened on his hand as she sucking in a large breath, still trying to match her breathing to his, when something caught his eye. 

Garland hanging between her bedposts. Flowers, seashells, feathers all uniquely tied to a string. But none of those things were important. What caught his eye was the sprig of pine needles on the far left hand side. “The earth provides...” he whispered. He shot up, still holding tightly to Anne’s hand. 

“What on earth?” Marilla panicked. 

Gilbert leaned forward and without the previous nights hesitation, he pressed his lips to Anne’s forehead before pulling back with the largest grin. “Carrots, listen to me. I need to go for a bit.” She shook her head, pulling his closer. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I will be back, I promise. Until then, I need you to fight as hard as you can. Try to keep your breathing steady. You can do that for me, right?”  Her eyes were filled with fear but she nodded. “Good, I won’t be long. We have much to talk about when I get back.” He smiled gently, brushing a stray curl from her face. He focused on Marilla. “Stay with her, talk her through the breathing.” Marilla nodded slowly, she was confused but he didn’t have time to explain. 

He pointed to the group of Anne’s friends in the corner. “You three, come with me.” Gilbert ran through the door, dragging along Diana, Cole, and Roy. “Cole, I need you to cover all the openings in Anne’s room: under the closet, doors, window, wherever you think air could escape. Get blankets, towels, even stuff clothes in there if you need too.” Gilbert commanded as they began descending the stairs.

“Uh, okay.” Cole said. Gilbert didn’t stop, crossing the kitchen to grab his coat from by the door. Mrs Lynde stood from her place by the fire, looking at the group curiously.

“What’s happening?” She asked, receiving a shoulder shrug from Diana.

Gilbert pulled his coat on, ignoring Mrs Lynde and turned to Diana. “Diana, I need you to stoke the fire, make it as hot as you can get it and boil water. When the water is boiling, Roy needs to bring it up to Anne’s room and make sure she is breathing it in. She needs steam.”

Diana beamed. “Of course! Steam!” 

“Steam?” Roy inquired. 

“Moisture helps clear the lungs. We used it to help Minnie May when she had the croup years ago.” Diana answered as Gilbert grabbed his cap and an old flour sack from by the door.

“I am furious with myself that I didn’t think of it before!” He opened the door, halfway stepping out the door.

“Where are you going?” Roy questioned. 

Gilbert grinned so wide they all probably thought he had lost his marbles. “The earth provides!” He ran through the door, only popping his head back in for a moment to yell one final command. “Steam! Constantly!” Down the yard he went, sprinting towards the barn as he screamed for Jerry. “Jerry! Jerry! Saddle Butterscotch! Saddle Butterscotch!” 

Jerry peaked his head out the barn. “Gilbert! What is going on?”

Gilbert felt like laughing, he was so excited. “I know how to help Anne!”

[lovehugsandcandy]

Nobody Knows Your Body Like Me (RoD, Colt x MC, N*FW)

A/N: So this was my day today. 

Me-I am working on a monster fic for Friday so I’m not gonna pay attention to anything else and am gonna keep my head down and get it done. 

@emichelle- hey, here’s this request: ColtxMC, Plain White Ts song ‘Your Body.’ 

Me- Never heard the song before but let’s take a listen. 

My brain- Ok, so this is all we are going to think about and you will be unable to function until you write this. 

Me- ...Great.

Thanks for the request, love! I hope you like this!

Rating: N*FW

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~2,500 words

Summary: Colt finally makes it to Langston, to see the girl he knows better than anyone.

The door opened right before he was about to knock.

His hand was raised, hanging awkwardly in the air, and she was leaving the room so fast that he had to pull his fist down before she walked straight into it. They looked at each other, eyes wide, until the shock had faded enough for her to speak.

"Holy shit." Ellie dropped her backpack, taking a step backwards. “Holy-”

“Hello, Ellie.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” She looked him up and down, as if she thought he would vanish, as if she thought he was a figment of her imagination.

Colt would have sworn she was a figment of his but he had ridden his bike across the goddamn country to get here; he had planned a week of driving but, in his haste to see her, it had taken five days. And she looked exactly like he remembered in his every memory and every waking dream. “How are you?”

“Are you kidding me right now?” She picked the bag off the floor, glaring at him the entire time. “All this time I wanted you, I waited for you, I cried for you, and you show up now? Two weeks before finals? Without a phone call?”

“I couldn’t get away until now.” 

"No. Nope. No. I can’t do this right now.” She shook her head and shut her door, straightening to stare him straight in the face. “I’m going to meet my boyfriend."

He watched, carefully, taking in every move of her delicate features. One blink. Two. And then a glance down. He smirked. "That was a lie."

"What?" Her jaw dropped at him. "No, it wasn't. We’re going to study for finals." Two blinks. A glance down. Another lie.

"Hah. Sure. I know when you’re lying, Ellie. You have a tell.” 

“What? I do not.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend to go meet.”

“I do!” Two blinks and a glance at her feet. Lie.

“I know when you’re lying.” He jerked his head down the hall. "Are you going to class?"

She looked unsteady, unsure, and she brushed a strand of hair from her face. Colt lost himself, staring at the slope of those gentle fingers, remembering the last time he touched her.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone like you again.” She was cradled in his arms, tight against him, and he could just feel her heartbeat against his chest. He wanted to say more but couldn’t, couldn’t even fathom the words, so when she tangled her hands in his shirt to pull him towards her, he tried to pour everything he could into their kiss, his every hope for the future, hope for them.

Her voice was unsteady, a small tease when they separated. “That’ll tide you over until next time. If there is a next time.”

“There will be.” He was certain, more than he had been about anything in life.

“What makes you so sure?”

He smiled. “I’ve got a good feeling about it.” There would be a next time because he would make damn sure of it.

“Don’t forget me, Colt.”

“I’ll forget my own name before that happens.”

And when clasped her fingers to pull her in for one last lingering kiss, thumb tracing over the delicate knuckles and smooth skin that he had grown to learn better than anything, better than any engine in any job at the garage, better than the intricacies of any and every harebrained scheme he conjured, he promised himself that he would make sure that this was not the last time he kissed Ellie Wheeler.

"What?" Colt shook his head, trying to forget the memory of the tears in her eyes, the shake of his hands. "What did you say?"

"How did you know I have class?" She pulled the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder.

"Lucky guess."

She shook her head, brushing past him. "And you're here to walk me to class like some kind of escort?"

"Something like that." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he followed her down the hall.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I can't visit you?"

She looked at him sideways, her eyes cutting to him just like his cut to her, almost every step, seeing what was new and what remained the same. The scar on her hairline had faded, the souvenir of the night Shaw went down barely visible beneath her hair. The highlights in her hair were new too, blond streaks curving down to her shoulders in wavy path that Colt ached to trace with his hands.

But more remained the same. The plush lips, curving up at the corners in a tempting smirk. Her eyes, hazel flecks twinkling amid deep brown. The freckle beneath her ear, right behind the hinge of her jaw where the skin was so sensitive, right where his mouth could pull the most delicious moans from her throat before trailing lower to lave equal attention on the three similar marks further down, forming a perfect triangle across her breast. He loved all of her freckles, every single one, but the three hidden just under her tank top were a personal favorite.

“I think it’s a right triangle. I should measure it.”

“What?” Ellie’s eyes were hazy as she tried to focus on him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your freckles. Right here.” He traced a finger, so gently, over the familiar angles. “The one where the hypotenuse goes right over your-”

“Oooh...” She moaned as his finger skated over the line, teasing the sensitive bud underneath. Her head fell back against the bed with a gentle thud, her mouth pulling in breaths as fast as it could.

He smirked and bent his head so his tongue could trace the same shape, spending extra time on the longest side.

“Why are you-” Her voice caught in her throat and she had to cough before she could try again. “Why are you so focused on right triangles?

“Oh, Ellie. I am very focused on all the shapes right now. Let’s talk about this curve.” His hand edged lower, tracing the curve of her waist, following along her hips as they flared out, then tracing the jut of her hipbone. “I like this one.” His lips followed, tracing over her stomach, the tiny scar from when she got her appendix removed, five more freckles in a constellation near her bellybutton. “And this one.” His mouth was at her hips, lips skating over soft skin as her thighs tensed beneath him. “But this shape right here might be my favorite.” 

And as his tongue found its target, they didn’t talk about shapes (or anything else) for a long, long time.

Her voice brought him back to the present. “So why are you really here?”

“I wanted to see you.”  He pushed open the door to step out into the sunshine, blinding in the warmth of spring.

“Really.” She rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t want to see me at all over the last year?”

“I always want to see you.” He took a deep breath through his nose, fragrant flowers on the walkway pulling his thoughts from freckles and shapes and a hazy past that haunted his every day.

She rolled her eyes, leading him away from her dorm. “Right. You didn’t even call.”

“It wasn’t safe.” 

“Not for a phone call?”

“Ellie, you know I would have called if I could.” Until he hunted down the rest of The Brotherhood, it hadn’t been safe for him to breathe, forget about contacting the girl who left him behind to chase a new life across the country. “But I came as soon as it was safe. It’s finally safe now. And I want you there with me.”

Her eyebrows climbed her face. “What? Where? You want me to come back to LA?”

“Aren’t you coming back for the summer?”

“I am but...” She looked away. “Just for the summer.”

“I’m fixing up the garage. Come stay with me.”

She stopped at the steps of some pretentious brick building but Colt wasn’t paying attention to the surroundings, only her face. “What?”

“Come back with me. Stay in the garage.”

“My dad will-”

“Yeah, he’ll kill you. I know.” He stepped closer. “But you also know that he can’t control your life.”

She shook her head, hair flying around her face as she anxiously pulled on the ends. “I can’t believe you. You show up after a year, a year of no contact. And to ask me to move in with you? How can you do that?” She stood up straighter, anger flashing on her face. “I hate you.” One blink. Another. A glance down.

Colt smirked at the familiar tell. She didn’t hate him at all. “Ellie, I love you.”

Her eyes widened. The vulnerability on her face told him that they were both thinking about the last time he had said those words to her.

Colt awoke with a start, the strange hand clamped around his mouth a shocking reentry into consciousness, his eyes straining against the darkness. He was ready to strike back, muscles tensing as he tried to figure out how someone snuck into his room unnoticed, but something made him pause. Maybe it was the shape of the fingers digging into his cheeks or the softness of the skin pressed to his lips. Maybe it was the subtle smell of vanilla soap floating though the air or the tiniest of giggles escaping through his assailant’s clenched lips. Whatever it was, it made him smile, lips curving against her palm. 

He reached up, caressing the hand in front of his mouth, and higher, over the soft skin of her arm, up her shoulder, and then down her side until he reached her thigh, edging his fingers under her shorts. Then, he grabbed the other thigh and pulled, chuckling at her yelp as she landed on top of him.

“How’d you know it was me?” It was pitch black in his room but, this close, he could see the whites of her eyes and the gleam of her smile.

“Nobody knows your body like me.”

“Really.” He couldn’t precisely see it, but he was certain her eyebrow was raised in disbelief.

He propelled his body over with his foot, turning them both so he could lean over her, lips against her ear. “It sounds like you need me to prove it to you.”

“Uhgh...” She leaned her head back to bare her neck to him and he took full advantage, kissing down to the curve where her shoulder began.

“I know just where you like me to touch,” he whispered, warm against her skin, “and how hard.” Once his mouth had finished forming the words, he bit, a gentle push of his teeth followed by tongue and suction and her hand struggling to grab hold of the short hair at the back of his head. “I know where you don’t like me to touch.” He slid his hand down her arm, conspicuously avoiding the inside of her elbow.

“It tickles there...”

“I know, sweetheart.” He slotted their hips together so he could push against her; even through clothing, he could feel where she was warmest and she could obviously feel his hardness against her, if the guttural moan was any indication.

“I know how you like my hands to move.” He moved down further, palms skimming her breasts, her stomach, the hem of her shorts, fingers ducking teasingly under the fabric before he pulled them off. “I know where to be so fucking gentle, Ellie.” He skated his fingers over her inner thighs, so softly that he could barely feel her though his calluses; a touch harder would make her frown and pull away but, when his fingers were feather-light and slow, she let out a tantalizing curse that made his cock jerk. “I know where to be rough.” He grasped her hips in strong hands, fingers slotting against her bones like they were made to be there. “And I know where you like my mouth.”

And with that, he dropped his head so his lips could duck through her folds as she keened above him, voice going higher and more desperate as his tongue moved against her clit. When her back started arching off the bed, he pulled back. “And I know where you like my fingers.” She was so wet when he slid two fingers inside her, an easy glide as his fingertips moved through her slick to find the spot that could make her cry, make legit tears flow down her cheeks when he took his time.

He couldn’t take his time now, too keyed up, too desperate, with his name on her lips and her back off the sheets, straining to get closer. He crooked his fingers just so, over and over again and, when he swirled his tongue just right, her thighs flew up to bracket his head, trembling and shaking as he pulled her orgasm from her body.

When her shaking had stopped, when the cries had trailed off, empty pleas to a God he wasn’t sure existed, he ripped his pants off and threw his shirt over his head. And finally, when she nodded, pupils blown wide and flush spreading across her chest, he lined up against her and pushed in, a smooth and perfect and easy given how wet she was. 

He knew all parts of her body, every single inch, but it was a mystery how exactly she was able to drive him absolutely insane. Was it how their bodies fit together every time she welcomed him inside her heat? Was it the way she clenched around him, pulling pleasure from every cell of his body? Whatever it was, it crushed him, made him weak, how his body responded to hers every single time.

He reached down to pull her shirt off; when she had shuffled around enough to get it over her head, he pushed her hands up onto the pillow, pinning her in place as he trailed his teeth up her sensitive inner arms, pushing his cock ever deeper.

“Colt, oh my God.” He pivoted his hips, again and again and again, finding the spot that his fingers knew so well as she squirmed underneath him. And when his thumb found her clit, the sob that was pulled from her throat pulled him over the edge too.

He was so sated, so soft, bracing himself over her so that he wouldn’t squish her, that the ‘Ellie, I love you’ came from his mouth before he even thought of it, his love for her no longer something that he had consciously consider. It was something that just was. Just as Colt knew her lips and her hips and her mind, Colt knew he loved Ellie Wheeler.

He had to repeat it, watching her look at him in disbelief in front of the stately university building where he knew she didn’t belong. “Ellie, I love you.”

Finally, he could see the dimple form. A true smile, at last, and he could feel his heart soar in his chest. He pulled her close and, when she didn’t back away, he ducked his head to meet her lips with his own, trying to prove it to her, passion and need and adoration combined in an intoxicating tangle that he felt in his toes.

She pulled back to look up at him, eyes soft. “You always know when I’m lying?”

“Yeah.” He traced a finger down the shell of her ear, yet another part of her body he had missed. He had missed all of her.

"Ok then.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t love you. And I don’t want to come back with you." She was still so close, his palm curved around her jaw, so close he could watch the her eyelashes flutter down, once, twice, and the glance down.

He pulled her closer, whispering ‘Lie’ against her lips before capturing them again.

Tags:

Perma @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @choicesgremlin @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[torendheavenandearth]

1.7

“At the end of thy road, one must remember the golden rule: all things in moderation, and find the balance in all things. There, in minute perfection, you will find God, and you will find him wanting.” -- From the Discourse of the Tambay Swordsman and the Alcoholic Witch.

▼

Makabintang nears the crossroads. “Hey kid,” says Makabintang, peering behind him. He sees Angela is out, sleeping sideways against the kalesa seat. That’s bound to cause some neck pain.

Makabintang moves the kalesa to the right edge of the road and stops the horses, which have been running for almost two hours. There’s a small clearing here, a little embrace from the trees. Here the soft patter of the stream punctures the silence. The sound of the wind slipping through the bamboo causes a song of sadness to ring out from the forest.

Makabintang climbs up and flicks Angela’s face. Angela snorts as she’s pulled back into the waking world. “Ah punyeta. What--?”

“We’re taking a short stop here. You can rest up here. Get down and stretch.” Makabintang then grabs a glass canteen from behind her and walks off to the stream.

Angela watches Makabintang disappear into the greenery. She tries to move, but is greeted by an orchestra of pain. Her neck is sore, her feet sear with red hot spiky agony, her hands feel raw, and her knees have been scraped. Wincing, she gingerly makes her way down from the kalesa and winces as she hits the ground. Her feet are raw: she’s not wearing clogs or any kind of shoes. She makes her way over to the center of the small clearing where there’s a small campfire used by those before. The charcoal has been doused, but it hasn’t been cleared or replaced. They’re going to have to clean off the charcoal and get some new firewood.

A couple of men riding along on horses happen by the clearing. Angela notices that they’re taking the right path at the crossroads. One of the men, wearing a large salakot and barong tagalog, stares longingly at Angela, and Angela looks away, trying her best to act as if she can’t see them. She briefly wonders if she should just go back to her own kalesa and hide. 

The two men stop their horses. One of them--the one wearing a navy blue uniform, has an arquebus hanging from behind his back, and a sabre hanging from his waist--gestures with his head, and the salakot-wearing man nods and slides down from his saddle.

The approaching man is wearing a large cloak that wraps around him, but underneath that he’s wearing large balooning pants, leather shoes, and a fancy striped barong tagalog. His hair looks groomed, and so is his moustache.

Angela squints at them. She sits at one of the logs-turned-benches. 

“Hello, binibini,” says the man, as he nears her. He takes off his salakot. “What is a precious young girl like you doing out here, in the middle of the path?”

Angela breathes out, slightly irritated. She didn’t think she’d get these kinds of people in another world still. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk with strangers?” 

“Then let’s change the situation then,” says the man, smiling. “My name is Don Jose Iago de Lacandola. And you are?”

Angela cringes. “I’m 17. Go away.”

“Age is but a number,” says Don Jose Iago de Lacandola. Angela cringes. He examines Angela thoroughly. “It is better if you are not to stay here, in the middle of nowhere. You seem like you have gone through a rough patch. I can take you to my hacienda, which is just over Mount San Roque. I can care for you like a king would care for his princess.”

Angela blinks. She thinks that this can be a good chance to get some good life out of this miserable predicament she’s found herself in. “Are you some kind of… noble?”

Don Jose nods. “I am a principales, part of the principalia of the Kingdom of Perlesensya. Perhaps that will make my offer more enticing. I will care for you all your life.”

Angela squints at Don Jose again. “Why?”

Don Jose manages a small smile. A shy smile. He looks up at the sky and says, “Well, it is not everyday that a Don such as myself would be graced by God the fortune of seeing an exceedingly beautiful maiden sitting out here in the forests. I must protect all beautiful ladies that I come across but…” he looks down on Angela again. “...never have I seen a woman so beautiful as you.”

“But…” Angela reaches up to her horns. 

“Oh, do not worry about that. We can surely hire a surgeon and a healer to surgically remove it from you. We’ve done it before.”

“You’ve… surgically removed horns from people? Why?”

“No horns are allowed in the Hacienda proper, you see,” says Don Jose. “And it’s commonly seen as unnoble within Biringan, the City of Cities. It's just for politeness and so that you can fit in better. Admittedly, that is the only blemish I see in your perfection.”

Angela cringes again. The prospect of having the horns surgically removed is something she’s keenly interested in, but a mote of doubt lingers within her heart.

“There’s a catch to this, isn’t there?”

Don Jose shrugs. “Of course, it would be in my best interest to wed you. Perhaps we can live together in my hacienda, and you can be the loving wife that welcomes me back from military expeditions and other such things! You will have a grand life.”

Angela pouts and thinks. Her forehead creases. She doesn’t quite know what to answer. Not yet, anyway. 

“Come on, girl. Do you not want to be treated like a principales?”

“I do,” Angela says, looking up. “But… I don’t think I can.”

“Oh, lovely maiden, moon of my life, why?”

Angela shrugs. “There’s… something I have to do first. There are people that are counting on me, I think. I’m not sure. But I don’t think I can do whatever I have to do if I went with you. Sorry.” And also going off gallivanting with a creepy older man is out of the question, fuckin’ creep.

Don Jose stops and stares at Angela for a bit. Eventually he sighs and shrugs. He produces a piece of rectangular paper from his pocket and gives it to her. “This is a paper signed by me. If you ever come to the hacienda--Hacienda Lacandola it is called--then show this to the gatekeeper. They shall let you in, and perhaps we can talk at length and help you come to a conclusion.”

Angela snorts. “Sure.” She takes the card. 

“God bless you,” says Don Jose, before walking back to the horse and then shrugging. His shoulders have fallen. The principales gets on his horse and the two of them begin making their way up the mountain. The man that looks like a soldier looks over his shoulder and stares at her as they disappear into a curve.

“Weirdos,” says Angela. She thinks of throwing the paper away, but then decides against it. Perhaps it can help in the future. She looks around her and finds that the baro’t saya she’s wearing has no pockets in them. Exasperated, Angela sighs. Of course they don’t. 

She gets up and walks over to the kalesa and slips the piece of paper into the sheath of the bolo that Makabintang gave her. She stares at her own reflection through the slightly dulled blade of the bolo. There’s still some dirt on her face, from when she fell. Her eyes are red. Is she losing sleep? Her glasses are miraculously still intact. When will they get broken? What will she do if they do? She’s practically blind without them. How will she be able to survive?

The bolo could be a good start, she thinks. Maybe get some training in them and be like a samurai or one of those old Filipino action movies or old Filipino komiks by Francisco Coching. She can manage it, she thinks. She’s always had before.

“I’ll get Makabintang to train me,” she mutters. What is seemingly apparent to Angela is that in this universe, fighting is to be expected at one point or another. At least, for a person like her. So it only makes sense for her to get up and grab some kind of combat training. If not, she’s going to get turned to bloody mush on the ground, and she doesn’t have any plans of dying just yet.

I still need to go home.

She brings the bolo over to the log she sat on and pondered. She wonders how life is, back at home, back in horrible Metro Manila, with the shitty transportation system and the even shittier government. That distant wish for home hit her like a truck. Sure, it was hell, but at least that place didn’t have, like, huge demons and angels and explosions and supernatural kung fu or whatever. If this is heaven, then she’d rather be cozy back home in hell.

She sighs. She wonders how Kristina is doing. One of her best friends. She was supposed to go and have a study date with her the next day, eating and drinking at their favorite cafe along Aurora Avenue. A hidden gem. But no. She was abducted by human-trafficking angels instead. Angela wonders if she will ever get back home. She decides that if she ever does go back home, she will.

In fact, she decides that she’ll do all of this, survive and get strong and hop around with Ang Nilapastangan and Makabintang, just to find a way to get back home. Her mother is waiting. Her little brother is waiting. They are all waiting for her to get back home.

“Oyoy, what was that commotion a while back?” Makabintang’s voice floats out of the trees. Angela looks up and sees him walking out, with three canteens full of water, which he carries with a makeshift flat plane of wood that he found out within the forest. He goes over to the horses and gives them something to drink.

“Some principales,” Angela replies. “Can I ask you a favor, Makabintang?”

“A principales? Did he say his name?”

“Don Jose something something Lacandola.”

Makabintang pauses. He turns to stare at Angela and his eyes go wide. “Lacandola? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Oh what, is he like, super important or something? Is that it?”

“Yes! Yes he is! Lacandola is one of the royal houses of the Kaharian!”

“What?”

“There’s not a lot of them, really. Only nine left: Sulayman, Lacandola, Ache, Colambu, Tupas, Paiburong, Sikatuna, Cabungsuan, and Namwaran.” Strangely enough, Angela recognizes some of those names. Names that she’s seen her friends have, or mentioned in old historical texts. Another weird note that imprints itself onto her mind.

“And this is important to me… how?” asks Angela.

“You shoulda taken the offer and took me with you!” Says Makabintang. “We’ll be rich and living large!”

“I doubt they’d allow a duwende to live in with them, though,” says Angela. “Don Jose already said that he’d have my horns surgically removed.”

“Yeesh,” says Makabintang, and then waves his hand dismissively “But whatever, you’re probably right. Come on, let’s get back on the road.”

Angela opens her mouth to ask something more, but a low guttural bellow resonates from somewhere else, freezing her words in her throat. She and Makabintang stare at each other, eyes completely wide, bodies frozen.

And then the kimera leaps out from within the shadows between the trees.

There’s a moment of absolute fear blossoming from the well at the bottom of Angela’s soul. She leaps to her feet, brings out her bolo, and faces down the kimera even as it leaps through the air and pins her to the ground.

“Makabintang! Help!” She screams, and the fear in her voice is like the shattering of glass. Makabintang rises and brandishes his own bolo. He sinks into the earth and then erupts from a mound to the left of the kimera, sending him cannonballing straight into the kimera’s side, bolo first. The bolo sinks, the kimera screams. 

It flails about, sending Makabintang flying from it. This time, it doesn’t underestimate Makabintang. It leaps toward him as he slams against a tree, grabs him mid-bounce, and then slams him against the tree once again. 

And then with a single, savage movement, rips Makabintang’s head from his body with its kimera dog mouth.

“Makabintang!”

▼

Ang Nilapastangan is faster than horses.

Upon her bellowing strides of smoke and flame--a neat little trick she’d picked up when traveling with a tigbalan--she crosses the length traveled by the kalesa in half the time. Despite the dewy morning, the road is not damp enough to let wheel tracks be embedded upon it, but that’s okay. Ang Nilapastangan told Makabintang where to go. She knows where they’re headed. 

She just hopes she’s not too late. She just hopes she catches up before they go past the crossroads. But Makabintang knows that. Makabintang is a wise duwende, and he’d know to stop by at the crossroads to wait for her.

That is, assuming nothing worse follows after them. The kimera… she can’t brush the thought of the kimera from her mind. It wasn’t there when she looked around. Last time she remembered, halimaw don’t just disappear when they die. It’s popular to use the materials harvested from hunting them for equipment and items.

So where did it go?

Ang Nilapastangan bellows-pumping stride eventually reaches its peak, and she reaches the crossroads at almost a quarter of the time a horse-drawn carriage like the kalesa would. When she gets there, however, the kimera’s maw rips Makabintang’s head from his body.

Ang Nilapastangan’s fury is silent, and the world has told her that she must be silent. She blurs forward. Now right beside the kimera, and thrusts her hand--which is in a knife-hand position--straight through the kimera’s chest. She then inserts her other hand through that same hole, and then rips the kimera in two, vertically.

Chunks of meat and blood scatter across the clearing. Angela scrambles away from the blood and meat, bolo still in hand. Her eyes are wide, her breathing rapid. She feels like she’s going to puke, but she can’t look away from the fantastic gore caused by Ang Nilapastangan.

Ang Nilapastangan hurls both parts of the kimera into two different parts of the forest. Throwing it so strongly that it sends waves of air rushing out. She throws it seemingly so that the two parts of the kimera are as far from each other as possible.

She looks down upon the headless corpse of Makabintang, ripped and savaged. The blood of beings like Makabintang don’t seem to be red like human blood. Their blood is one that is yellow-ish, like the sap of trees, nearing gold. 

Ang Nilapastangan scowls. Angela stares at Ang Nilapastangan.

▼

Ang Nilapastangan digs up a grave for what’s left of Makabintang’s body with her bare hands. She is silent, and when Angela looks over at her, her face is blank. Not in that blank kind of way when someone’s loved one dies and you don’t know how to react. Her face is exactly like her face the first time she saw her. As if the death of Makabintang, the only person that she seems to speak with, doesn’t faze her.

Ang Nilapastangan makes an effort to make the grave like a mound, like that of his house. And then, at the top of the mound, she places a single sampaguita flower that she finds nearby.

With that done, she gets on both knees and then bows. Her hands are clasped together, as if in prayer. Angela wonders if she should follow in what she’s doing. Even just to pay some kind of respect to the weird duwende that helped her. But, she feels too awkward, and decides not to.

Eventually, Ang Nilapastangan finishes the procession. She doesn’t do any kind of sign of the cross or anything. She simply lifts her head and then rises to her feet. She turns around and says: “I’m filthy.”

Angela blinks. “Um. Yeah. You’re covered in guts and blood.”

“We can’t afford to bathe yet,” she says, with an almost… complaining tone? Angela can’t help but tilt her head in slight confusion. 

Angela also notices that as she’s talking, her burning crimson feet and hands are slowly subsiding. Her black and red eyes are dissipating. She closes her eyes and she breathes out. When she opens her eyes again, her eyes are normal. They’re no longer black and red, but a beautiful white and ash gray.. She, more or less, has the visage of a human. 

Save, of course, for the horns.

“Come on. Barangay San Justo is a bit more travel.” She walks over to the kalesa and unlatches the horses from the wagon. She then reaches into the wagon and brings out a pair of saddles. Fraying at the edges, but working more or less. “Ah, the horse carer remembered my request. Good.”

Angela walks up to Ang Nilapastangan. “We’re not going to ride the kalesa?”

Ang Nilapastangan shakes her head. “We’re going to ride the horse instead. Do you know how to ride one?”

▼

Angela and Ang Nilapastangan ride down the path. They’ve gone down the westward road. “The east road leads up to a mountain trail that leads to Barangay Sampotsi. There you will find Hacienda Lacandola,” Ang Nilapastangan said. Angela told Ang Nilapastangan about the encounter she’s had with Don Jose, but Ang Nilapastangan doesn’t reply or respond to it.

Now, upon the trail, there is a slight awkwardness. The only time Ang Nilapastangan has talked to her is to teach her the ropes of riding a horse. She’s ridden one before when she went to Tagaytay and Baguio, but riding one on her own without the guide of some kind of caretaker is a new experience. Surprisingly, she got the hang of it rather quickly, and soon the two of them are on a canter. Ang Nilapastangan took the horse with the black coat, while Angela chose to ride upon one with a chestnut brown coat.

The path is mostly quiet, save for the soft sound of the wind wafting across the trees. The rustlign of branches, the whistle of small zephyrs. The temperature is not too bad. Humid, of course, but the sun is not shining directly at them so the heat is bareable. Angela realizes how much she prefers the temperate, humid climate of the more tropical countries than the more extreme degrees of other countries. She’s glad that they have that climate here, and much cooler than in Metro Manila too, since this place is presumably not choked by pollution and microwaved by climate change.

Their canter is brisk, but not to slow. Its a perfect pace for Angela to ponder upon the things she sees as she travels across the path. The broken twigs on the ground, the kabalyero trees that seem to be more popular here, sending the red petals of their flowers cascading down to the soil. The random snake coiling about a trunk, or flying lizard leaping from one treetop to another. A squirrel scurrying down a tree. Numerous birds flying above.

A soft wind sends fallen dead leaves flurrying into a small tornado, instilling into them once again, a semblance of life.

However it's not the kind of abounding, almost choking, multitude of animals Angela thought she would encounter. It’s strangely serene. The animals here seem to be alone: Angela can’t help but wonder why she only sees one squirrel, and one flying lizard, and one flock of birds. At this point, she’s expecting to be assaulted by an onslaught of mosquitoes and flies, but none come. Maybe one, and it isn’t even a mosquito.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Angela blinks. She looks up at Ang Nilapastangan. The path ahead is long. There’s a patch of the road further down that is shadowed by a canopy of tree branches. “Yeah.”

“It used to be even better,” says Ang Nilapastangan. 

Angela waits for Ang Nilapastangan to explain further, but she never does. 

After a bit of cantering, Angela speaks, “I’m sorry about Makabintang.”

“Don’t be,” she replies. “You had nothing to do with it. And Makabintang would’ve been honored to go out that way.”

“Wasn’t he your friend?”

“He was. He was the only friend I had and the only one that didn’t freak out when I said that I was the winner of the Hagdanan and that I came to that village to hide away from Biringan. He was a good friend. But he was going to die, I think, one way or another. It always happens.” The wistful tone is almost cliche to Angela.

“You were hiding?”

Ang Nilapastangan nods. “It’s the only way for them not to kill me, or use me.”

“Use you?”

Angela doesn’t get a response to that either. 

With a sigh, Angela continues with, “If only I knew how to fight.”

“Don’t worry about  the ‘ifs’,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “It’s done now. Move on. That’s what’s important. That’s how you break chains.”

Another silence. Angela decides not to engage anymore with Ang Nilapastangan. Maybe she’s still grieving, and just doesn’t want to show it to Angela so that she doesn’t break her tough-girl demeanor? Either way, Angela loses the will to converse. She looks around her again, and nothign much happens. Not a lot of animals come out. For a world that is the center of the multiverse, she thinks that it should have a lot more colorful animals. Not just a single squirrel and a snake. And some birds.

They ride for a few more hours, passing through numerous canopied sections of the road: the parts where the branches of the trees embrace overhead, as if to provide shelter and shade. The sun doesn’t shine down directly at you within the canopy, and the wind is chilly. As they canter along, her mind begins trailing, looking for more distractions. She wishes she can have her phone right now, numb her mind against her Twitter feed or chat with some friends. But then she remembers that those friends are universes away.

Eventually, to pick up the pace, Ang Nilapastangan tells Angela to gallop and follow her. Angela nods, prodding the horse forward and then balancing herself on her knees. Ang Nilapastangan taught her this just a few moments ago. She remembers what she’s taught: use her knees to steady herself, don’t pull on the reins, lean forward. And she does. 

The horse goes forward, and it runs quick and true. It seems as though it’s doing its best to accommodate for Angela’s inexperience. Even though her gallop isn’t as fast as Ang Nilapastangan’s, it's enough that Ang Nilapastangan is always in view.

▼

After a few more hours of riding--which was painful for Angela, having to look around all the time--Angela finds that the road they’re sat upon crests up to the top of a hill. When they reach it, Ang Nilapastangan stops the horse, and so does Angela.

There, from the hilltop, they see Barangay San Justo. A quaint little town with the same wooden houses mixed with stone houses, and with a church in the middle. It is surrounded, of course, by dense trees, some of them breaching the gaps of the town and growing between houses and roads. There is a small wall on both the north and south sides of the barangay, made of earth and wood.

The hilltop road bends down into the southern exit. 

The barangay, strangely enough for the middle of the day, is quiet.

“We will look for the albularyo here,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “And then afterwards, I will help you.”

Angela blinks, looking up at Ang Nilapastangan. “Help me?”

“Get stronger and win the Hagdanan. It’s the only way, if you wish to be free.”

Next Arc.

Return to the Table of Contents.

[elite-polos]

30 Days of Élite Fic ♛ Day 15: Forgive Pairing: Cayetana & Lu (non-romantic) Rating: T Notes: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. I am so sorry it just kind of happened while I was writing ;-; Also, this is way longer than I expected it to be but I kind of like how it turned out even though it is, once again, heart-wrenching. 

Cayetana sees her from across the street. It’s unmistakably her: her long, lustrous brown hair streams down her back; her red lipstick highlights the sensual and teasing curve of her lips; her perfect figure casts an equally perfect silhouette behind her. Cayetana hadn’t been expecting to see her, today or any day. It’s been years and their paths haven’t crossed: not at school reunions, or get-togethers hosted by mutual friends. Why now?

She has it in her right mind to just turn and walk away, pretend like she’d never even seen Lu in the first place, and go about her day. She doesn’t need to turn it into a whole thing. Besides, Lu doesn’t even see her...until she turns, and she does. 

“Fuck,” Cayetana mutters under her breath, spinning around suspiciously quickly to try and disguise the fact that she’d been staring. 

Lu narrows her eyes, lowering her sunglasses to get a better view of the person across the street. Is that…? she asks herself, not even finishing the question. No. It couldn’t be. 

But then Cayetana makes the mistake of turning her head to see if Lu is still there, and that gives Lu the chance to see her face. It is her. 

Lu’s whole body is suddenly filled with dread. But once the cars pass, she runs across the cobblestone street in her high heels, not giving herself a chance to think about it first. This might be the only chance she has to talk to Cayetana again, after all this time has passed. And there’s so much she wants to say. Needs to say. 

“Cayetana!” she calls, approaching the other side of the road. 

Cayetana, playing dumb, pretends to be calling someone on the phone as she makes a show of looking around the bustling marketplace, appearing lost. 

Lu rolls her eyes. “Cayetana, I know you can hear me, don’t pretend you can’t.” 

Still no response. 

A few seconds more and Lu catches up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cayetana exclaims, shaking her off. 

“Please. I understand if you never want to see me again in your life, I really do. But can we talk? Over coffee, just this once. That’s all I’m asking,” says Lu. 

The earnestness in her voice puts Cayetana off. She’s only heard Lu talk like this once before, devoid of all self-righteousness and full of desperation, though it’s not a memory she wishes to stir up. Cayetana sighs. If this is what it’s going to take for her to never have to think about Lu again in her life, then she supposes she can sit through one coffee. 

They end up at a tiny coffee shop just off the main street. It’s cute, the kind Cayetana could see herself seeking out if she were staying in the city for longer. They’re the only ones in the shop, so the barista is inevitably going to hear every word of their conversation, but it was the most secluded place they could find. 

“So, what brings you to London?” Lu asks lightly. 

“What brings you to London?” Cayetana boomerangs the question back. 

“Are you going to make this whole talk difficult?” Lu says, looking irked. 

“Oh, you want to talk to me about making things difficult?” says Cayetana. She raises her eyebrows, appalled. “Well, let me tell you—” 

“Shhh, sh sh,” Lu quiets her, glancing sideways at the barista who is looking over like he knows he might have to intervene. “Okay, that wasn’t a good choice of words, I admit. I’m just trying to have a civilized conversation. Do you think you can manage that?” 

Cayetana crosses her arms, indignant but still compliant. 

“Okay. Good.” Lu takes a deep breath. “Listen, I...I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what happened. You know. I, um...I honestly can’t remember if I ever got to say it to you in person, and it’s been weighing on my mind ever since then. Because I truly am sorry, and I never meant for it to happen. I know that doesn’t change anything, but I...just thought I should say it.” 

Cayetana looks unimpressed. “That’s it? You made a scene in the middle of the street just to say that?” 

“Hey!” Lu says defensively. “It was important to me, I’m sorry if it doesn’t matter to you but I thought it might!” 

“Well, you’re right about one thing: sorry doesn’t fix anything,” Cayetana says icily. “There is no number of I’m sorry’s that will bring Polo back.” 

Lu fears Cayetana is about to lose it in the middle of this coffee shop, and although by this point the barista has gone into the back, probably presuming they’d like some privacy, Lu would still like to avoid a complete meltdown. “I know. I know,” she says gently, tiptoeing with her words. “And that’s something I will always have to live with. I struggle with it every day.” 

Cayetana lowers her eyebrows. “You’re lucky I’m not scratching your eyes out right now,” she says. She hadn’t realized she’d still had this much anger left inside her. She’d thought it had run out as time had passed since Polo’s death. In fact, she hadn’t felt this strongly about it in months, just a stagnant sadness sitting in the pit of her chest. But now, confronted with Lu, her inner rage is clawing at the bars of its cage. 

“Do you hate me?” Lu asks abruptly. 

“You deserve for me to hate you.” 

“But do you?” 

Cayetana hesitates. 

“Because if I recall correctly, you helped cover up for me, just like everyone else.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” Cayetana’s coffee sits untouched, quickly cooling between the two of them. She uncrosses her legs and crosses them the other way. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I wanted to stop living like that. I wanted to be done with the mistrust, the suffering, the alienation, the fighting. I just wanted to live a peaceful life again and let all of that go.” 

Lu swallows, looking at Cayetana with sympathy in her eyes, although Cayetana refuses to meet her gaze. She nods comprehendingly. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted, too. And that’s what I’m still trying to do now.” 

She lays her hands in the center of the table as a sort of peace treaty. “Cayetana. I am so, deeply sorry for what I did. And before, I could never even imagine how much it hurt to lose someone you cared about that much. But...but now I know. And I would never wish that pain on anyone.” 

This catches Cayetana’s attention. “What are you talking about?” she asks, and it dawns on Lu that she doesn’t know. 

Oh God, she doesn’t know. 

There is a beat of silence between them before Lu works up the courage to speak. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear. And again, I am so sorry. My brother—Valerio, I mean—he passed away earlier this year.” Lu has always found it easiest just to let the words spill out of her mouth without giving herself a chance to feel them. She knows she sounds like a robot when she does it, but it’s better than feeling the sharp stab of the knife that comes with every syllable. 

“What?” Cayetana breathes, suddenly pale. 

“Not too long after school ended, he got back into drugs. I didn’t know it at first; I was all the way in New York, at school, so it was easy for him to pretend that everything was fine. But eventually I figured out what was going on. I tried to get him to stop, but he just told me not to worry about him, that he was too far gone. That he didn’t have anything else to live for anymore. After that, every time I tried calling him, he wouldn’t answer. And then a few days later, I got the call that he’d overdosed.” She’s gotten so good at telling the story that it sounds rehearsed, more like the lines of some fucked up play than real life. 

Cayetana feels sick. She actually feels like she might throw up. When she’d planned this trip to London, she’d done it with Polo in mind. She’d been saving up money for months just so she could go see all the places they’d talked about going together, just to feel close to him again. Even though she’d fallen out of contact with Valerio, she’d texted him to see if he’d want to come. He’d replied thanks, but that he had too much going on right now. 

It hadn’t sounded like the impulsive and carefree Valerio that she knew, and she should have been concerned. God, why wasn’t I more concerned? 

Lu has fallen silent, tracing the red lipstick mark on her cup with her fingernail. She wants Cayetana to say something, anything. 

The only thing that’s on Cayetana’s mind is that Valerio had been better when they were together, with Polo. Polo had been the one to convince him to get out of drugs. His grades had gotten better when they’d started studying together, and he’d even started to consider that he could have a future. 

All of that, ripped away from him. He would still be alive if Polo were still here. 

“You’re a monster,” Cayetana says, standing up from the table so suddenly that her chair tips over. Her anger is no longer threatening to explode; rather, it’s controlled, directed, aimed right at Lu’s heart. “I gave you a chance to talk, but all you’ve done is make me realize you don’t deserve the time. I will never forgive you for what you did.” 

With that, she storms out of the coffee shop and disappears into the crowded street. 

Lu exhales, her lungs burning as if she’d been holding her breath that whole time. She sets her head down on the table, clenching her eyes shut, her nails digging into her palms. 

Here I am, Polo, she says in her head. I tried to do what you wanted me to do, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s never told anybody that she’s been having visions of him ever since that awful night. 

I’m living out your sentence, she tells him silently. I’m living through the pain of paying for a horrible, horrible mistake.

I’m living through it so you don’t have to. 

[definitionofaroadgame]

The Magicians: Star Trek Remix

Someone asked on Twitter what positions the Magicians characters would have if they were in Star Trek and my hand slipped…

Captain/1st Officer: Eliot & Margo. Eliot starts as Captain with Margo as 1st Officer, but he gets emotionally compromised on a mission that accidentally ends up with them on Talos IV and Margo takes over as High King Captain, with Eliot returning to duty as 1st officer. He’s much happier with this arrangement, if he’s being honest. He gets to be the social, friendly one of the command team now and Margo gets to be the stern HBIC; it works for them both.

Navigator: Quentin. He’s always the one trying to figure out their path, be it questing through Fillory or figuring out a way to save Eliot. He’d been dating Alice until just before the Talos fiasco, then the talosians gave him visions of an alternate life raising a family with Captain Eliot. His relationship with Alice is over, he’s desperately in love with Eliot (who rejected his offer to give it a shot because of fraternization rules, but that’s not gonna last #queliot), and for the first time he’s lost his direction…

Science Officer: Alice. She was always the smartest in the room and literally went Niffin so she could learn all the secrets of magic. There is no questioning this, don’t @ me. After her relationship with Quentin ends (B/c of reasons. What are they? IDK!), she loses herself in science and knowledge to distract herself. She’s kinda the reason they end up on Talos IV, though it wasn’t her intention, and decides to stay with them because of their incredible knowledge and power. The crew drags her back to the ship because it’s a huge Starfleet no-no for any outsiders to go to the planet and she’s decidedly NOT. HAPPY. About the situation.

Helmsman: Penny. The obvious reasoning is that he’s a traveler, but beyond that, he’s also the driving force of much of the movement of the show. He’s the one pushing Kady to move towards her future, he often badgers and berates Quentin into acting. He just gets shit done (while professing not to care about any of it). Penny is a cinnamon roll who I can’t stand to see have issues, so we’re gonna pretend he’s married to a nice woman who works down in the soc/anthro side of the science department and her specialty is in textiles and clothing (yeah, I literally am writing Arjun’s actual wife into the show, it’s my headcannon, eat me. He was really nice to me on Twitter so he gets all the nice things.)

Tactical Officer: Kady. Battle. Magic. Y’all. She’s going to do whatever it takes to protect her crew from outsiders trying to hurt them and she’s going to do it while being underestimated by everyone that goes up against her.

Chief of Security: Fen. Everyone thinks she got the position just because of her father, but she’s deeply loyal to, and protective of, her crew. If you are stupid on her ship, you WILL be thrown in the brig, though she’ll come down to keep you company and try to help you learn to be better. She was on the away crew to Talos IV and the talosians really messed with her head. When she realized what they were doing, she tried to knife one of them. The crew sometimes thinks she’s a little “old school” (read backwards and naïve), but they’ve all seen her knife collection and aren’t going to mess with her.

Head of Linguistics: Josh. He debated going into the medical field (“Ha ha yes, because I like ‘medicating’. You’re all sooo original. Stop going for the low hanging fruit.”) but his ability to fit in with any group and not only get along, but thrive, in his environment really pushed him to xenolinguistics. He’s the go to guy for meeting with new civilizations, because he’s ace at figuring out how to connect with others, and if all else fails- parties are great for breaking the ice!

Chief Medical Officer: Julia. She started out in Engineering and was quickly rising through the ranks, but she got caught in a bad battle when she was stationed on another ship that left her with severe PTSD. She foundered for a while, but eventually figured out that she could heal people as well as she could heal machines and is realizing that being in medical is helping to heal and grow herself as well.

Chief of Operations: Tick. Lets be real, he keeps Fillory running and he keeps the ship running as well. There’s a lot that goes into his job behind the scenes and he chafes at the realization that he’s probably advanced as far as he’s going to. He had designs on a captaincy, but these academy kids keep showing up and jumping ahead of him. There may have been a mission involving inhibition lowering pollen where he throws a coup and takes over the ship, but after they throw him in the brig they kinda realize that they literally can’t run this ship without him, so they hash it out and he seems to be doing better with his position now that he’s being given recognition for his skills. His knowledge base has saved them more than once on a mission that went sideways and affected the ship.

Other Thoughts: Dean Fogg as Engineering Officer? Is highly skilled drunk character cast as highly skilled drunk character a little on the nose? Monster!Eliot is the Borg? The Library is the Klingon Empire; sometimes friend sometimes foe? Who is Harry Mudd??? Nevermind- editing this to say Poppy is Harry Mudd. IT’S PERFECT! What’s the name of the ship?

[terramythos]

Review: Vengeful by V. E. Schwab (Villains #2)

Length: 567 pages

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction, Found Family, Revenge Narrative, Superpowers, Dark, Time Jumps, Perspective Shifts, Third-Person, LGBT+ Protagonist, Female Protagonist, Duology

Warning(s): Pretty much every previous warning applies here (violence, gore, genocidal thinking, etc). In addition, there is a VERY graphic medical torture scene, physical abuse, references to rape, implied hard drug abuse, and somewhat graphic sexual content. To reiterate: NO ONE in this story is a good person.

My Rating: 7/10

My Summary:

Five years have passed since Victor and Eli’s fateful encounter, when Victor enacted his perfect revenge. He finds himself in an unusual position; with other people to care for. There’s just one problem— his pain-manipulation powers have started to backfire on him. Every few weeks, they kill him. He comes back, but the intervals between episodes are growing shorter, and his amount of time without oxygen to the brain are growing longer. Thus Victor, Sydney, and Mitch enter a desperate race against the clock to find a cure— by any means necessary. Meanwhile, a new force rises in the city of Merit. When Marcella Riggins, wife to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the city, catches her husband cheating, he burns her alive to solve the problem. What he doesn’t count on is for her to come back as an EO with a terrifying power in her grasp. Now she’s out to take revenge and all the power of Merit for herself. As Marcella’s  ascension to power progresses, she inevitably pulls Victor and Eli back into their deadly conflict.

“How many of us do you think there are?” “EOs?” June hesitated. “Who knows? More than you’d think. We don’t exactly go around advertising.” “But you can find them.” The glass was halfway to June’s mouth. Now it stopped. “What?” “Your power,” said Marcella. “You said when you touch someone, you can take their appearance, but only if they’re human. Doesn’t that man you can tell when they’re not?” June’s smile flickered, and returned twice as bright. “You’re awfully sharp.” “So I’ve been told.” June stretched on her stool. “Sure, I can tell. Why? You looking to find more of us?” “Maybe.” “Why?” June shot her a sideways glance. “Trying to eliminate the competition?” “Hardly.” She finished her drink and set the empty glass down, running a gold nail around the rim. “Men look at anyone with power and see only a threat, an obstacle in their path. They never have the sense to see the power for what it really is.” “And what’s that?” asked June. “Potential.” Marcella tightened her fingers around the stem of her glass. “This ability of mine,” she said as her hand glowed red, “is a weapon.” As she spoke, the glass dissolved to sand, slipping through her fingers. “But why settle for one weapon when you can have an arsenal?”

For my review of Vicious, the first book in this series, please click here. 

Full review under the cut. 

I really wanted to give Vengeful a higher score. After all, the first 90% of the book is a solid 9/10, addressing most of the criticisms I had with Vicious and containing much of what I had hoped to see in a sequel. It features deeper exploration of the characters, develops intriguing themes I had wanted to see more of, and expands upon the setting and premise in interesting ways. In essence, it’s a bigger and better version of Vicious… for the most part. However, it falls apart in the ending, to such an extent that it dragged down the whole experience for me. I’ll get into the whys later. But first I think it’s worth discussing the novel in general and which parts of it did click for me. After all, I’m not lying when I say most of it is very enjoyable.

Vengeful is written and takes place 5 years after Vicious. It’s roughly twice the length of the previous entry and features an expanded cast. Three main leads from the previous novel— Victor, Sydney, and Eli— all reprise leading roles. Joining them are Detective Stell (a minor antagonist from Vicious) and two newcomers— June and Marcella, the latter of whom shows up on the cover and in most of the promotional material. I was struck immediately by the writing improvements in Vengeful— including more detailed, imaginative, and interesting descriptions. Schwab obviously improved a lot on the 5-year span between this book and its predecessor.

Basically, Vengeful focuses on where the characters have come over the last 5 years— for better or worse— and how the world adjusts and changes in the presence of EOs— superpowered humans.

Like before, the story is told in an anachronistic fashion. There is an overarching plot, but it hops around the timeline showing different parts of each character’s lives. That could be confusing, but it’s well-executed here, as it was in Vicious. Unlike in Vicious, however, this entry dedicates entire chunks of the book to individual characters. For example, the story opens up with Victor and explores him for a while, then switches over to Sydney, then onwards through the six members of the main cast. Occasionally we get guest chapters starring minor characters or “check-in” chapters with others, but for the most part it follows this pattern. I really liked this approach, because it's a deep dive into each character and their complexities and motivations. There were times I had to backtrack and remind myself what happened in previous sections, but that’s probably more on me than the book itself.

The characters themselves are interesting, and probably the strongest point of the novel. I enjoyed each to some extent. It’s fun to read a story where nobody is a good person, yet what that actually means varies quite a bit. Sydney and Eli had the most compelling stories and arcs; both dealt with identity and one’s place in life and the universe, but explored different facets of the concept. Both characters have changed a lot from their introductions, and it’s been interesting to see. Victor’s struggles and desperation are a far cry from where he finished in Vicious, so that was interesting as well. I thought June was a creative take on a shapeshifter character (more on that later), and her level of obsession with Sydney and its development over time was alarmingly relatable. While I don’t find Stell particularly interesting, I do think he was an essential perspective for the story, and he does expand the world quite a bit with his ties to EON (again, more on that later).

The (somewhat twisted) found family between Victor, Sydney, and Mitch was a big high point of the story for me; there are some indications of it in the first book, but this one goes all-in. I really enjoyed seeing these messed up people genuinely bond with each other and form a ragtag family.

There’s also some good LGBT+ representation in the novel. The relationship between Sydney and June, while ultimately pretty screwed up, is flirty and romantic in nature (and again, uh, alarmingly relatable). Victor is canonically confirmed to be asexual as well. I’m of the opinion that LGBT+ characters should hold a variety of roles, heroic and otherwise, since we’re people. I’m glad to see Vengeful make it happen.

Marcella is probably where I struggled the most (outside of the ending in general). She was initially one of my favorite characters— imagine an ambitious femme fatale turned up to eleven and literally given the power to destroy anything she touches. Her chapters are certainly fun based on that premise. However, I spent most of the novel waiting for there to be something else to her. Possibly a secondary motivation, or some kind of personal moral struggle— anything. But there really isn’t. She is just straight up a character who wants to seize power at all costs because she thinks she deserves it. Marcella is a pretty flat character, which is disappointing when she’s (1) the face of the novel and (2) in a series that focuses on moral complexity and shades of gray.

Vengeful improves upon the worldbuilding in Vicious. Before, Merit was just a generic city setting. But this entry expands upon it— especially its criminal underbelly. It also develops some setting-specific concepts. New to the story is EON, a clandestine paramilitary organization that hunts down EOs and eliminates or imprisons them. Led by Stell and built with the best of intentions, there is nevertheless a sense of dehumanization and genocidal parallels as he struggles to control the expanding organization. It’s key to both Stell and Eli’s character arcs, and there is certainly enough material to expand upon in the future.

This may sound like an odd thing to praise, but Vengeful abandons the whole superhero motif present in Vicious. Yeah, it was an interesting moral dilemma in the first novel— who’s the hero and who’s the villain— but it’s played out by now. Having a setting which features superpowers but isn’t tied down by superhero tropes is a good call and allows for more creative plot and writing decisions.

One thing I really enjoyed about this novel is how it expands upon the superpowers in creative ways. Even established characters have new and interesting developments to their powers that are still in line with previous canon. For example, Victor— whose power is manipulating pain in others— discovers he can manipulate nerves in general, and develops the ability to control others’ movements. June is a shapeshifter, but it’s a unique take I haven’t seen before. Basically, she takes on key memories of anyone she touches, which gives her enough background to convincingly mimic them. In addition, she’s a living voodoo doll. If she sustains injury while disguised as someone else, they’re the one who gets injured, not her. This is used to interesting and creative effect several times in the story.

Overall, this has the makings of a really entertaining novel with some deep character arcs and interesting themes. I should be overjoyed this even got a sequel, and for most of the novel I was. So what’s up with the ending? How could it have so strongly impacted my experience with Vengeful?

My problem with the ending isn’t that I disagree with it, or didn’t like it on a personal level. I’ve dealt with plenty of endings that didn’t go where I wanted (hell, I’ve read some by this author). But I can justify and even appreciate just about any ending as long as it makes sense with what’s been established before. Does it make sense for the characters to end up here, based on their development throughout the story? Does the ending fully realize the premise? If so, it’s an acceptable ending. Even if it’s one I didn’t picture, I can understand and even learn to like it.

That’s not the case with Vengeful. I mentioned characterization as a strong point, but out of the six members of the main cast, I’d say maybe two of them end up in places that even make sense (not even in satisfying ways, just… make sense). That means that four members of the main cast have unsatisfying or nonsensical endings to their character arcs. Considering this, is it much of a surprise the ending impacts the score so much? I finished the novel scratching my head like wow, that’s really it?

And I’ve tried to figure it out, believe me. I finished this book weeks ago and am only now posting the review. I’ve gone back and forth, tried to justify certain endings, went back to see if I missed something, but… nope. And at the end of the day, I shouldn’t need to bend over backwards to justify an ending. It should justify itself. It should make sense in and of itself.

I’ll give an example of one character, because I think it exemplifies the root of the problem. (Obviously this will be vague to avoid Mega Spoilers, but it should be obvious who I’m talking about if you’ve read the book).

There’s one character whose main conflict is they NEED to find a solution to their problem. Throughout the story they seek out and find various people who might be able to help. But nothing is working. They grow increasingly desperate and resort to more and more extreme methods to find the solution. Eventually, they find what seems to be the answer, but their hopes are dashed once again. In a moment of personal growth, this character realizes that there is no miracle coming. Since they are the cause of the problem, the only one who can solve it is THEM. They resolve to find the solution themselves or die trying.

How does this arc end? I’m not even joking— they just straight up find a miracle solution. There is some setup for it… but that setup is tied to a completely different character. And regardless, it still feels like a deus ex machina; it destroys initiative. It’s even worse because this character’s arc peaks when they realize they must SOLVE THEIR OWN PROBLEMS, then the ending hands over the solution with no strings attached. Sure, they technically find it due to their own actions, but it’s because someone unrelated to them or their arc did something. Even then, there were ways to make it work— Schwab could have drawn parallels between characters, or played up the dramatic irony. It would still be weak, but at least it would show some self-awareness. But we don’t even get that.

That’s just the clearest example. There are multiple characters whose key moments are just ignored in the ending. It would be one thing if they realized certain things weren’t that important to them, or in a moment of dramatic irony fell short of where they were meant to go. Those things make sense. But that’s not what happens— the character arcs just end with zero solution to the problems and ideas the rest of the novel spends developing. It’s very unsatisfying, and I found myself wondering what the point of the novel even was. It honestly feels like the first 90% of the book is hand crafted and polished to a mirror shine, while the ending is a first draft with minimal edits and zero continuity with the rest of the story.  

It’s possible, and even likely, that there’s more to the Villains story. Nothing has been officially announced, but certain aspects of the novel just scream it to me. One of the few characters who ends in a decent place has a very “the end… or is it?” outro. There’s a 4-page short story after the epilogue that focuses on a seemingly minor character and her origins. And some aspects of the worldbuilding, such as EON, could be explored more. In short, Vengeful sets up for a book three, or even a spinoff of some sort. But even then, the character arcs still need to make sense in the context of this novel, and they simply don’t. When the main strength and focus of the novel is characterization, the ending HAS to realize that potential. Vengeful doesn’t, and we’re left with a confusing and disappointing conclusion.  

Feel free to take this review with a grain of salt— from what I can tell, Vengeful was critically well-received and a lot of people enjoyed it. Perhaps there really is just something I’m missing. But the ending was enough of a disappointment that it affected the whole experience. It was especially disappointing to me coming from an author I really enjoy. Perhaps there is more to the story, but it’s going to take a lot to win me back on this one.