#an upside down question mark. perhaps. or a white room

[trophygony]

one thing to know about me is that they're unappealing colors

[riddlecrux]

Rosehall

Day 1 of Elriel Month is here! Summary: He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

You can also read it on ao3!

They didn't talk.

No shy glances, no accidental touches while passing each other through the corridor, no warm smiles behind the rim of a wine glass. Even the silence in which he was sitting was unbearable, so different than the one that carried comfort and jasmine scent that always made him content, whole, at ease. Now, sitting alone on the fine chair in the House of Wind he was barely breathing. He was suffocating with loneliness, heavier than the one that crawled through his bones in that dark cell from his childhood. A real pain exploded behind his closed eyelids.

The night air pricked on his face as he tried not to think, not to feel. It was as if the gaping hole in his chest was a thing of his own shadows - swirling inside, eating him out and leaving only shreds of his broken emotions. He tried. He tried so desperately not to fall for her. For yet another unattainable person that was next to him just to mock his misfortune. It was something completely wrong. How one can take so many failures and still delude himself that maybe this time the ending would be different.

He was such a damned fool.

Azriel opened his eyes as a sharp pang in his chest enveloped him in another wave of utter bitterness and helplessness. The thing with Elain was something he hadn't expected - she came into his life wielding a fork and suddenly he could see clearer than ever before in his life. How sun caught in her golden-brown hair and how the freckles on her left cheek created a small triangle. And the way all that loveliness faded away when she was stripped of her own free will - and how he failed her at that moment. The arrow to his chest didn't hurt as much as her screams. The terror of them was still haunting him during long nights of insomnia and half slept nights.

And there was that companionship they formed. Based on silence and gardens. Teas full of leaves and sticky fruit floating on its surface. Elain always preferred her to drink sweet, even if her nose scrunched each time she sipped from a porcelain teacup - pale pinky held in the air as if she was still a lady in a room full of liars and men trying to woo her. Maybe during those moments of tranquility between them, he started to appreciate her gentleness even more.

Their meetings slowly but surely transformed into nights full of sleeplessness and sore throats - silence turned into constant chatter about everything and nothing. The first time he heard her giggle his world turned upside down. In that particular moment she was all he saw, in all her golden glory and chocolate smear on her chin - so warm and bright, so out of his reach. A secret. His secret, a memory to be locked inside his mind's labyrinth.

Sometimes he wished that both of them stopped before they had even begun their… relationship. Because maybe if he possessed more self strength and if he was less selfish, he would have protested when Elain touched his hand while they were resting in the garden. Or when he caressed her cheek while trying to get rid of the soil splattered there. Whenever they touched Azriel felt as if he was healing. These small palms that traced ridiculous figures on his scarred hands brought him comfort no one else did. A touch so tender that he wanted to break in halves only for her to mend him again. She was nothing like him and at the same time so familiar, so understanding. When she looked at him with her brown eyes full of terrors and beauty, he knew that she could see his soul. Every ugly part of him. And she never averted her stare, never flinched from his touch - she wholeheartedly accepted him.

Sighing out loud his wings twitched behind him when his eyes darkened once again. He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

"Long night?" He snapped his neck at the voice and inwardly relaxed seeing cold silver eyes staring at him without fear.

"I suppose so," shrugging his shoulders he turned back toward the city, one hand still on the glass of strong alcohol he was pouring into himself for hours. A screech of a moving chair resonated next to him and with a slow exhale he sipped his drink.

"Not the fire this time," Nesta huffed and he saw in his peripheral vision that she poured herself a decent shot as well. "Both of you are the same," a small smile ghosted on her lips before she drank the brownish liquid in one go.

"Me and who?" He knew playing stupid wouldn't work on her but he was so tired. He had already lost, so Nesta seeing him at his worst would be nothing in comparison to the thunder inside his mind. The oldest Archeron sister let out a dry chuckle which indicated that she was aware of his silly attempt of deflection.

"Elain," her name awakened something inside him. Like a golden tether holding him upwards, longing after the female that brought up such emotions from him. "She used to glow these days, you know," he saw her playing with the rim of the goblet. Long finger stopping suddenly as if the glass burned her. "I know what happiness looks on her, and whenever both of you interacted or spent time together she was always… so bright. So alive," his heart thumped a few times before it gave him a painful tug. "The moment you saved her life was the first time I had wished that you were her mate," the wound opened again, a small sound escaped his mouth before he slumped forward. "But fate isn't so merciful. Yet, Elain made her own way in this life. I saw how she escaped that empty shell she used to be and how she learned to breathe again… with you ," Azriel wanted her to stop. To let go of this torment she was exposing him to.

"I can't listen to this," he stood up, his wings stretching to its whole span. "You know it's impossible," his bitter laugh echoed in the interior. "We both know that it doesn't matter if I have feelings for her," he was ready to fly away when Nesta's hand caught his elbow. Silver eyes shone in the darkness of the night with ancient power.

"It's her choice," she whispered. "She doesn't want her mate, she has never wanted that bond," her grip loosened for a bit and he was tempted to run away but her expression held him in one place. "But she wants you. She chose you. And you know it because I saw how you look at her, how both of you glance at each other," she pinched him when he was composing himself from snapping at her. "Ask her. Ask her about what she wants. Take her to the place where it's just both of you, so no one can interfere," her nod was final and with it, she slowly turned around and vanished upstairs. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching his teeth. Nesta's words were a poison that circulated through his bloodstream.

Could he have that conversation?

Could they possibly be together?

The night air was cold against his burning skin when he shot up in the sky, wings outstretched and tense.

*

He landed on her balcony.

The beige curtains were dancing in the air, metal dreamcatcher swaying on the wisps with a soft melody. There were plants and flowers scattered around the balustrade and his shadows skittered around them, leaping into petals and leaves before returning to his form. He stopped beside the wooden table to see half-finished tea and some papers - a few of them with drawings of different gardens, trees, and notes about the seeds. However, what caught his attention was a stash of papers with Elain's handwriting. All of them were thrown around the surface with drops of tea marking some of them. There were letters forming sentences, he could pinpoint some of them, ones that weren't completely crossed out in the pale moonlight. He was about to touch one scroll with his name on it when his shadows whirled around him with a soft warning.

"Spying on me?" The sweet scent of jasmine and honey embraced his person as his hazel eyes blinked at the sight in front of him. Elain was in a white nightgown, tiny ribbons on her freckled shoulders were something he didn't know he needed to see in his life. Her loose hair was curling at its edges as the tresses touched her middle. She was watching him, big brown eyes stoic and unnerving.

"No," he breathed and her smell attacked his senses, driving him crazy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and padded towards him. Her feet stopped next to him and with a lazy movement, she gathered her papers without glancing at him. He could see her nape, soft and pale and so inviting as she leaned across the table. His fingers curled into fists when her presence burned his self-resilience.

"Do you need me for something?" She inquired letters in her grip and a slight frown on her perfect face.

"Actually," his shoulder tensed when she shot him a questioning glance. "Yes, I need you," he left it there. A pause and weight of his words, waiting for the judgment and perhaps hatred. But it never came as Elain silently turned to him, her lips parted and a soundless sigh ghosting in the air between them. She peered at him, irises wide and somewhat gentle before she touched his biceps and he was ready to be undone.

"We should talk," her breath tickled his skin as he nodded without thinking twice. "Here?" Her question woke him up and trying not to scare her, he offered his scarred palm while stretching out his wings.

"There's a place I want to show you," his words echoed in the dead of night and as her small fingers wrapped around his hand he could finally breathe again.

*

When they arrived the moon was high in the sky, its light reflecting on the waters of a marble fountain in front of the manor. He exhaled letting Elain down as she politely exchanged her thanks. She pried her hair from the face and with newfound excitement, she whirled around facing him with a bright smile.

"I dreamed about this place," her voice was warm and all he wanted was to touch her to make sure she was standing there under the moonlight. "The gardens were something I have wanted to see," she pointed a finger in the direction of a greenhouse and a patch of flowers and vines.

"Dream or a vision?" He knew he shouldn't test his luck, yet deep down inside he felt as if he had already known the answer. As if it was imprinted inside his heart for a long time.

"Vision," she answered, walking towards the field of roses. Her palm touched some petals while her hair tumbled down towards the ground. "I saw you here," her digits closed around the stem with silent amusement. "You were happy," she turned around and looked straight at him.

"This is Rosehall," the lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. It was like a fever dream of his, having her here in the fields of flowers and so painstakingly real.

"Very suitable," she smiled and turned once again stepping onto the soft grass. "It's a pretty name," he heard her sitting on the ground and when he glanced up he saw her lying flat on the earth. Her knees were slightly angled but her face was upwards as if she was watching stars. Azriel staggered towards her, breathing fresh air as he finally stood up on her right.

"I haven't thought about its name for years," he slowly sat and looked at her profile. She was gazing at the sky with a small smile. Happiness looked beautiful on her, it made her glow.

"There's so much...space," she breathed and her chest moved in a slight erratic manner. "You can almost taste freedom here," Elain blinked as she turned onto her side. She faced him and he thought that there was never a time in his life when he felt so many emotions at once.

"I'm sorry," the edges of him crumbled as his eyes started to burn. He didn't mean to hurt her, not in the slightest. He was just too… selfish. And she was everything he had ever dreamed about, an embodiment of home, of a warmth he so desperately searched for. "It wasn't a mistake," he whispered as her hand fell upon his abdomen. Always trusting, always inviting.

"Then what? A distraction?" She mused as her body leaned forward and she was mirroring his position. "I will never know as long as you won't talk to me," she supplied with a pain in her voice.

"No, never a distraction. I have wanted this," he circled the air with his hand ambiguously. "From the moment you clenched onto that fork you were someone I have wanted to be with," his head lowered down Azriel didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Why haven't you told me?" Her confusion mixed with regret pained him.

"You have a mate," he muttered while plucking on some innocent straw of grass.

"And you know I don't want him," her palm searched for his cheek and as she turned his face to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Whenever I'm with you I feel whole. Alive. I look at you and feel so scared," he inwardly flinched yet she held him in one place. "Scared of losing you. Every time I lose sight of you I feel like I'm drowning. It's as if a part of me was ripped apart," she closed her trembling lips and stared at him with utter devotion.

"Elain," his fingers touched her neck, his thumb circling around the hollow gap between her shoulder and jaw.

"That night I chose you. Us," she said with a final note, leaning against his hand. "It's my choice, no one else's," a butterfly-like kiss ghosted on his inner palm.

"Rhysand's orders," he gulped when she pushed him down and climbed onto his lap.

"Fuck Rhysand's orders," she spat and for a moment both of them were silent. Then he laughed, a true bellowing laughter erupted at the back of his throat at her vicious remark. Her giggles followed and he had never heard such an extraordinary sound.

"Never deemed you as a foul mouth," he managed when she slumped forward, enveloping him in a warm hug.

"I live with Illyrians and a very pissed immortal being," a hot kiss on his neck made him shiver.

"Elain," he took her face in his hands and stared at her brown eyes with a heat crawling down his spine. "Elain," he whispered again while closing the distance between them. She whimpered when he finally nibbed at her lower lip. The sensation waking up something primal inside him, a storm of feelings and needs attacking his senses. Her warm mouth opened and he finally kissed her - something exploded in his chest, something brilliant and intimate. It was as if everything was set in order, the way her lips moved against and how their bodies molded into one. He could feel her, smell her need and anticipation. She was shaking as her small fingers dug into his neck.

"Azriel," his name on her lips was his undoing. He opened his eyes and saw her… glowing. The golden hue enveloping both of them into a cocoon of intense bliss. When she opened her eyes the golden color lingered there for a while before vanishing, leaving both of them gasping for air.

"You were always there," he realized touching his chest. A vibrant thread blinding him with its magnitude.

"Rosehall," she laughed tracing his scars. "You have waited for so long," Elain kissed his temple while embracing him again. "I'm sorry I have made you wait for so long," the bridge between them sparkled with love and belonging.

"I knew you would come to me," nothing but the truth slipped through his lips as he gently cupped her chin. Both of them stared at each other, halves of two finally found. A home he had longed for, held in his arms as a scent of roses and jasmine shielded him from the world.

[imma-fan]

You Said You Wouldn’t Tell // Kim Yugyeom

{It has been a minute so, I apologize if this is awful}

The door closed behind you. Your stomach dropped, looking around the empty hotel room. The bed was untouched, the white fabric tightly and professionally covered what was most likely a filthy mattress. The a/c loudly pushed ice cold air into the room, adding to your discomfort. The lights were all left on. He must of left in a hurry. You make your way around the room, turning the lights off, closing the curtains, and lowering the a/c.

Now, all that illuminated the room was the lamp on the nightstand. Sitting on the firm bedding, the breath you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding in blew out swiftly. After months of the same routine, the shame and anxiety never fade. Perhaps it was the routine that caused anxiety to heat up your ears and face and the shame to turn your stomach upside down.

You checked the time on your phone. Time to get dressed. With a clenched jaw you headed to the closet, pushing the sliding door open, and grabbing the red gift bag that sat on the floor. You slid the door shut and made your way to the bathroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest and your thighs pressed together momentarily as you looked at the contents from the bag. This is when the anxiety turns to excitement. You stripped from your casual clothes and into the thin fabric you were gifted.

It was a soft pink lingerie set. The bra was simple, a small white bow in the middle of the cups. The panties matched, a small white bow right in the front, and a slit in the backside. You already knew where to look. Bending down, feeling the air on your backside, you opened the cupboard under the sink. You grabbed the red box, removed the contents, and bit your bottom lip as you placed the empty box and empty gift bag under the sink.

It’s crazy how quickly the anxiety and shame fade away once your mind is clouded by thoughts of him. You put on the headband, which had semi-realistic, fluffy, white cat ears attached. You wasted no time taking the small bottle of lubricant and placing it on the plug of the fluffy white cat tail. You bent yourself over and spread your cheeks apart, inserting the butt plug through that little slit in your panties. You felt the heat in your core as you clenched and unclenched around the plug. A hum left your lips as you stood straight up, you pulsated around the plug, the want developing in your core.

Looking in the mirror brought back that stomach turning shame. This isn’t normal.

You aren’t left with your thoughts for long as you hear the door of the hotel room open. You scramble to hide your clothes in the cupboard just in time to hear that voice. “Kitty, come out and play.” You chew on your tongue, counting to ten before opening the door. You let it swing open before crawling out on your hands and knees.

There he was. His tall body draped in all black clothing sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come out. “You’re so cute.” He cooed as if you were an actual cat, his hand lifting your chin so you’d look up at him. You made eye contact with him from your spot on the floor, it’s crazy how he comes across as innocent when this is what he does behind closed doors.

You batted your eyelashes at him. You knew better than to speak. “Lay down, I’ll be back.” He hummed, patting the bed gently. He stood up as you crawled onto the bed, sitting on your knees, careful not to push the plug in any farther. Yugyeom headed to the bathroom to freshen up. You breathed out gently before getting into a new position, his favorite position. You turned so you faced the the headboard, laid your head on the bed, and tail in the air. You let your feet dangle off the edge of the bed and kept your arms and hands tucked under your chest.

With closed eyes you focus on the pleasurable feelings of the moment. Your eyes slowly opened as you heard his foot steps. Goosebumps rose where his slender fingers trailed up the back of your thigh. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip gently, wiggling your tail for him, he lets out a soft laugh. His fingers slid over your slit teasingly through the moistened pink fabric.

Without another word, Yugyeom maneuvers the panties off? careful not to tug the tail out. Once they are completely off, you wiggle your tail again. You hear him shuffle, pulling off his shirt. Your body was becoming uncomfortable with the lack of his touch, you move onto your back yourself. Knees to your chest but slightly spread apart, hands still tucked by your chest. Yugyeom eyes you over, a heat rises to your cheeks at the intensity of his stare on your pulsating sex. You sneak a glance at the tattoos on his pale body before he leans forward, his hands at either side of your hips.

Your lips part at the feeling of his warm tongue on your bundle of nervess. His hands on your hips raised the temperature of your body. Breathy moans slipped from your lips as Yugyeom read your body language, your pleasure growing as he perfected his actions.

You squirmed against his mouth best you could once you started feeling his tongue slow. You held back the urge to clamp your thighs together, letting his eyes view your wetness. Yugyeom stood straight up, only making eye contact once his lips turned up. That smirk of his was all you needed.

Slightly breathless, you change your position again. Face down, tail up. Your legs parted a bit more as you arched your back. “Cute, I didn’t even have to tell you this time.” You could practically hear his cocky little smirk.

The relief that came with his cock sliding into your wet hole caused your jaw to drop silently. You clenched the sheets, reminding yourself to keep your back arched. It was hard, so hard. Your eyes shut in pleasure, only to open them as his hand pulled at your hair.

Your body got over the exciting shock. You could finally let out the moans that had gotten stuck at the back of your throat. You moaned out a slew of profanities as he had his way with your soaking hole. His hold on your hair only seemed to get tighter as he went on.

Your moans, his heavy breathing, and the sound of flesh slapping together filled the hotel room. “Do it...c’mon...do it...” He whined through his heavy breaths. You hesitated, per usual.

He massage your bum with his free hand, just adding pleasure through the buttplug. He gave a quick yank to your hair. You did as he requested, at this point the pressure building in your core gave you the push . A cat-like mewl left your lips, you pushed your ass against his thrusts a few times.

The cat-like noises fell from your mouth, your only focus was the tightening of your core and his cock filling you up. “Fuck, you sound so good kitten...that’s it kitten...” he let go of your hair. Your eyes widened at the removal of the butt plug, a string of load moans poured out of you as his digits slipped into your asshole.

Your flesh began to stick as you sweat. A mix of moans and mewls left your lips. His heavy breathing soon turned to grunts. It was harder to keep yourself up. Your ass clenched around his fingers. His warm orgasm poured inside of you smoothly. Your eyes closed, you collapsed on your stomach, legs giving out as you were able to reach euphoria. Your body melted as you came down, slowly pulling yourself up.

The pulsation felt below the hips made you want to stay face first on the bed, but after a few breaths reality had come back to you. You swallowed down, still tipsy from your climax, you stumbled slightly as you stood and headed to the bathroom. It was easier to avoid looking at him at all when in this state.

The pleasure in your core was once again being replaced by the shame. Your skin was no longer hot due to the physical activity, it was burning from anxiety. Your heart pounded against your chest as you cleaned up and dressed. It was as if you were late to an important job interview, you scrambled to get yourself together.

“You still haven’t done it yet, huh?” His question made you sick to your stomach. You attempted to make a quick escape for the door yet, he grabbed your arm firmly. “Are you serious? You haven’t said anything?” He sounded disappointed.

Tears burned your eyes, your throat went dry, and you just looked at your feet. The rising anxiety grew as he let go. “I just...I can’t.” Talking felt as if you were swallowing sand paper.

“Here.” He handed you the envelope of cash. You looked at the white envelope in your hands, the shame grew into a pounding headache. The white envelope made the disgust within yourself grow, you fought back tears.

“You said you wouldn’t tell.” You swallowed down. You left before anymore could happen. You jogged to the elevator and finally let out a breath once yours were closed in. Tears fell despite your mental protest.

You jumped. Your phone rang in your back pocket.

Mark

You swallowed down, “Hey, baby.” You hummed happily into the phone, tears running down your face as you peaked at the cash in the envelope.

[inspiringmelodrama]

Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay, las hay

Part 3

Warnings: death of animals, spiders, curses, injuries, blood.

Beta read by the amazing @hnt-escape

*

*

*

The beast laid still in the middle of the clearing, its elegant body sprawled in a way that hid the harm done by Tovar’s blades. Vines curled around the big head, almost caressing it. The place looked sacred, holy.

No church had ever made him feel small or impure, but that clearing somewhere in the middle of nowhere did. The trees seemed to sway and a gust of wind swept through the space, causing leaves to spin.A distant howling sound sent a clear message for him: something treasured had been destroyed.

The idea of carrying some type of proof of the beast’s death had gone through his mind, only to be dismissed immediately.

He would end up dead on the forest floor if he tried to drag the heavy body with him.

The antlers or the fur could be removed with relative ease, but the thought made his guts wrench.

He had done enough to the being.

If the villagers didn’t believe his word, or his injuries, they could enter that wretched forest and see it for themselves.

With a last glance, Pero turned around towards where he thought he’d come from. Death heavy on his shoulders.

**

The trek back to the village seemed endless.

Tovar dragged himself, leaving a trail of blood from his various wounds. The creature’s antlers had speared clear through his right arm and he wheezed with every step feeling his ribs shift, courtesy of when the beast knocked him down.

The sun had passed the center of the sky when the foliage started to thin and Tovar found himself in one of the pathways leading to the edge of the village.

With a huff he climbed over a tree root that most definitely wasn’t there this morning and came face to face with the old woman from before.

She stood hunched over her cane, a beautiful piece of carved wood resembling entwined vines, her eyes crinkled when she looked up at him and that hissing cat voice was back when she proclaimed “The beast was slayed then.

Tovar assented, expecting she would say something else on the matter.

But the old woman kept looking at him, a flash of sadness on her wrinkled face.

When it became clear neither of them had anything to add, Tovar grunted and made to walk past her, only to be stopped by said cane planted firmly against his front.

“You’re hurt, Tovar. Come to my cottage and I’ll bandage that arm of yours.”

There was no question in her tone, but no order either. It was simply an invitation, a kindness offered to someone who had risked his life for her people. Accepting or not was entirely on him.

A friendly grunt and a nod was all they exchanged before she turned and went her way, Pero on her heels, hoping it wasn’t far.

**

Turns out nothing was far in that village and after a couple of minutes they stood in front of a small but well tended garden leading to an equally small and well tended cottage.

The door was low and Tovar had to bend down so he wouldn’t hit his head. Inside the ceiling was higher and bunches of drying plants hung from the wood beams.

The place was cozy, with embers heating a pot over on the hearth. It was one room with a big, sturdy table in the center filled with glass jars, a pestle and mortar and other strange items.

Fur pelts and candles, jars and what Pero presumed were cooking utensils finished the decorations.

And there were plants.

Everywhere.

Coming in through the sole window, hanging upside down from the ceiling, strewn around the table. Giving the room a heady smell of damp soil and green things he didn’t know the name of.

It’s all very witch-like, Tovar thought, or perhaps she is a healer.

Both healing and witchcraft were strangely similar. How did one know what was wrong in a place they could not see if not by some touch of magic?

One gnarled finger pointed to a chair by the table and Tovar followed with his eyes, still by the door. It was only when he saw the woman turn with her arms full of odds and ends that he moved his body and settled down on the chair.

She approached and started organizing the items she carried on the table top, murmuring for him to take the clothes off his torso.

“Let me see the injuries, Spaniard.” This time her tone was commanding and without thinking he started to undo the armour, disposing of the chainmail and other layers until he was left in his tattered and bloodied undershirt.

Her knowing gaze assessed the ragged edges, the trickle of blood running down from where the beast had stabbed him with its antlers. With quick movements the woman took hold of a soft looking cloth and dabbed it in a bottle with clear liquid, Tovar learned what was the purpose of it approximately 5 seconds later.

At once she pressed it against the wound, holding firm when Tovar thrashed against the intense burn and let out a yelp, sounding like a wounded animal.

Tovar let out a string of curses behind clenched teeth and braced himself for whatever else the old crone had in store for him.

The healer paid him no mind and after what seemed an eternity, but in reality was no more than a minute or two, she removed the cloth and he watched, astonished, as the wound started to foam and dirt bubble out.

Tovar realized 3 things at the exact same time:

1.She was definitely a witch.

2. She meant no harm, for now.

3. He was too tired to care either way.

**

It was time for the last part of his hurried treatment. The woman had cleaned other scratches, tied his ribs and applied a poultice to the many bruises he sported; the only thing left now, according to her, was sewing the skin together.

Pero would have no problem with it if she wanted to use normal thread, but no, the old crone wanted to irk him.

The old witch had to know, because she turned around with yet another jar. What this one contained though...

Few things in this life scared Tovar, and 8 legged creatures were one of them.

Inside the glass jar in the woman’s hand there was a stick filled with a white gray thin substance resembling thousands of fine threads tied together. In the bottom, a brown spider worked on even more of the weird thing.

A shiver ran up his spine, Pero could swear he felt eight legs and a fuzzy body making its way up his bare back.

The old witch, for in his mind he was certain now of what she was, could do anything she wished to his wounds. Anything except that.

“Absolutely not, witch!” He growled, one arm shooting up to hold her needle and thread away from him, the other took hold of his dagger that rested on his belt.

The woman’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the blade, “That,” she said pointing, “smells of death.”

“You figured me out then” the woman let out a sigh, and dropped the needle.

“You didn’t make it hard; with your weird jars and cobwebs you want to use on guests.”

“You are a very rude guest, Tovar.”

“Not letting you sew me with cobwebs doesn’t make me rude. I want answers.Now.”

They faced each other in a battle of wills; Tovar ended up winning.

She harrumphed and let go of the spidery thread, only to pick another spool, green thread this time. Raising it to his face, she only started stitching when he nodded and then they talked.

**

“Why get me to kill your own beast?”

It was the only thing he still didn’t understand.

“Do you think me the mother of that monster? Is there only one Spaniard on this earth?”

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t end up in a village with not only one, but two witches.

The woman let out a breath and her body seemed to sag with it; that was the moment Pero truly saw the age in her bones, the tiredness in her eyes.

“I’ve been on this earth far longer than you could even imagine and there’s nothing in this world that I haven’t known, Tovar. I’ve seen it all, including what power can do,” she continued. “I chose this place as my home centuries ago and I come and go, watching children be born and grow and I cannot let them suffer any longer.”

“If you have seen so much, why not kill the beast yourself then? Why get me to do your bidding?”

“Because, Pero Tovar,” she said, taking hold of his hand and tracing with the point of her fingers the lines and scars intertwining in his palm, “you needed to come here, you’re meant to a place I haven’t seen yet. And sometimes one needs steel, not herbs and spells.”

“Dine with me, Pero Tovar and I’ll mend your clothes, as a favor. It won’t be long now.”

She sounded ominous. His mind paused at it but his stomach growled and between the two, his stomach usually won.

So he stayed.

**

He should leave. Grab his armour, go to the tavern, demand his payment and leave this place, let the only reminder be the dust on his soles and the scars he bears.

But he couldn’t.

The witch’s home was warm and inviting; the food was delicious and most important of all, she seemed happy to talk to him. To listen to his stories and animatedly tell her own.

He was in the middle of a tale about William and some ducks in Wales when a rush of cold air came and a strange woman entered the cottage.

**

Pero shot to his feet, his left hand wielding the same dagger he used to end the creature in the woods, the strange woman stood before him with fire in her eyes.

“I suppose no one would invite a mother to feast with her child’s murderer,” was said to him in a voice reminiscent of a hissing cat.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

“It was no child, Ethânis. It was a monster and had to be stopped.” The older witch sounded calm, too calm.

The witch’s forehead, Ethânis, blazed with a series of marks; the same ones he saw on the beast’s head, her eyes focused on the dagger on Tovar’s hand and he felt the steel grow hot in his grip.

“I haven’t finished with you, old hag,” Ethânis’ voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“And you, you heartless bastard, with your precious blade; I know just what to do. A soul for the spilled blood.”

The dagger shone the same marks, the heat on the hilt became too much even for Pero’s calloused skin; he realized with horror that he could not let go of it.

The dagger and his skin were as one.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” was the only thing he could mutter.

The witch raged on, a storm let loose in an enclosed space; the old witch, Tovar realized in that moment he didn’t know what else to call her, laid frozen on the floor.

Everything stopped and the hissing voice came again, in whispers against his ears,

Place of the first strike cursed blade shall find; Wielded by friend or foe you shall never know; For millennia the will wander, only to alone fall in a strange land.

Her eyes kept blazing and winds erupted from the doors, sweeping around and raising leaves and fur pelts.When it was over Ethânis had disappeared.

**

Pero Tovar believed in witches. A lot.

He was stunned. What does one do when cursed?

Tovar refused to cry. He was a man of actions, and crying wouldn’t help.

What would help was getting rid of the curse. And that’s exactly what he set out to do.

The old witch was still on the floor and Tovar shook her none too gently until the old witch came back to her senses.

“Wielded by friend or foe”

“Wander for millennia”

The words kept twirling in his mind, spreading and infecting every thought.

God, he’d spent a life fighting; was it all he would ever know?

Would he truly spend a thousand years drifting only to end up forgotten and alone?

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want any of that.

**

The old witch was up and running around the cottage and at this moment Pero didn’t care about names anymore.

He cared about being cursed.

About being alone.

About being owed a debt; he said so to the witch.

“I know, Spaniard. The debt the villagers owed is now mine.” She kept rummaging in her things, looking for something in various pouches.

The witch finally produced a single coin out of one of those pouches; it was beautiful,capturing the firelight and gleaming like pure, polished silver.

She offered it to him and Pero snapped.

“I don’t care about money,” he roared, “I want the curse gone.”

She shoved the coin in his hands and “There’s no way of undoing a curse after its cast, Pero Tovar,” she continued, a look of sympathy on her face, “the only thing I can do is lessen it someway.”

Shit

“Then do it! I don’t care how. Lessen the curse and I will consider your debt paid.”

“Then a debt shall it be.”

The old witch grabbed her cane, and started hitting it against the floor. A steady thump, thump, thump creating a thrum in Tovar’s ears.

The hissing voice was gone and now she sounded like water. The noise of gurgling springs and waterfalls, the eternal rivers running towards the sea. Powerful and mysterious, not to be played with.

You shall sleep, not wander.

When there’s fire in the sky and ice on the ground, a tender heart shall come and with frigid fingers touch you. She’ll guide you, where you have never been before, through earth, sky and sea.

With the last word the thumping also stopped and her voice returned to what Pero believed to be normal.

“It’s done,” was all she said.

This one wasn’t much better than the last.

“Yours didn’t rhyme.”

The look of sympathy was substituted by one of annoyance. “It doesn’t have to rhyme. Not all of us have the penchant for dramatics that Ethânis

possesses.”

Pero grunted in concordance.

He still held the gleaming coin tightly on a fist and when he let go there was a perfect imprint of it on his palm.

“And this? Shall I acquire another debt with you?”

“That is a favor, mercenary. You may need me once more.”

“What of Ethânis’ curse then? I just wait to be stabbed?”

“You can always take your destiny in your hands, Tovar. You can live in fear of it, or you can end it now.”

“What do you mean?” he was suspicious now.

“Easy. Let me stab you.”

**

Let me stab you.

She just said it. As if being stabbed was something he wanted for himself.

The worst of it was that he was actually considering.

“Strike me then, witch.” the words coming out of his mouth surprised even him.

Pero got to his feet unsheathing the cursed dagger from his belt.

His skin felt clammy as he extended his arm.

He felt shivers as he left his side unprotected and pointed to where the blade had first drawn blood from the creature.

He didn’t need to bother though, the moment the woman took hold of the hilt it felt like there was a string tying the tip of the blade and the place on his ribs together.

Guiding one towards the other.

Before she could strike, Tovar held her other hand, small and feeble under his strong ones, her skin thin and dry.

“Are you…” Pero cleared his throat before continuing, “are you friend or foe?”

Her old eyes held such sympathy for him that he knew the answer before she even opened her mouth.

“I would like to think ‘friend,’ Pero.”

He nodded, he would like to think that too.

She swung her arm in a wide arch, the dagger coming straight to the place it was supposed to hit, no changes in its trajectory.

He felt the blade pierce his skin, felt the tip scrape at bone. It burned more than anything he had ever felt. A fire within he thought never would seize.

He heard the words of the second curse again, then everything went to black.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [7]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself busy.

Note: I have these chapters done so I’ll keep posting till the end.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

You met with Rashida at the beginning of the next week. Only three days after your last encounter. Since then, you’d found yourself watching over your shoulder. As you left your building, walked to the station, passed through the broad doors of the tall tower where Motley’s offices resided... You were overly alert and entirely uncertain. 

Yet you didn’t see anything more than before. The man in the hoodie didn’t catch your eye and in a subway car full of the same dark sweaters, how would you even pick him out? You felt hopeless. Maybe he stopped. Maybe it was one of Fury’s men keeping tabs on you. Maybe he hadn’t been following you at all.

You shook away all those questions as you hit the buzzer and waited for the crackly speaker. Rashida was quick to let you up and welcomed you into an apartment as small as your own. The space was a cluster of children’s toys and mismatched furniture. You sat at the round table as she offered you something to drink. She brought you a glass of water and sat across from you.

“Maya’s at school til three,” She said as she leaned an arm on the table. “I’d rather she not be here.”

“I understand,” You took out your notebook. “Do you mind if I record this?”

She rubbed two fingers along the plastic tablecloth. “Recorded?”

“For me only. The audio won’t be released. And as before, this will all be on record until you say it’s not.” You coaxed. “We stop when you say.”

“Sure,” She nodded. “I do have a real job, you know. I work breakfast down at this diner.” She pointed at the window. “It’s just not cutting it.”

You set your phone down and hit the red button and took your pen.

“Do most of the women have other jobs?” You asked.

“Most, if not all. Some of them only come around when they finish down at the strip joints,” She leaned back, a little more relaxed. “I… Selene said she’d talk to you. If you wanted. I just don’t know how much she’ll talk. She still hasn’t told me everything.”

“Really?” Your lashes fluttered in excitement. “Yeah, anything she has-- Any other girls you know, I could use anything.”

She exhaled and ran her thumb along her middle finger.

“I wanna help them, you know? Not just me. Because I’m just one of a lot. A lot.” She shook her head. “And they get younger and younger. Used to be I worried about protecting the young ones, now we’re all just thinking about ourselves.”

“I heard about Saturday,” You said. “You know her?”

“No, but I found her. Arm broke, face cut,” Her fingers closed to a fist. “She fought him and he fought back but now she’s marked. Forever.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to redirect for a little bit.” You said gently. “I don’t want you to think about the attacks. I want to know about you. Tell me about your first night there.”

She squinted. “Why?”

“Because...you matter. And if people see that you’re human, that’s how they’ll see all the rest.” You shifted in your seat. “It won’t just be numbers printed beside some add for dry cleaning. It will be people.”

She thought and swallowed. She pressed her lips together.

“It was only supposed to be the one night,” She began. “Just needed to make up the last of the rent…”

🖋️

Poppy sat in her usual spot. Her desk was her throne and you were all just her subjects. He ashy hair was pinned up so only a single curl framed her face. Her structured blouse was a rich fuschia and the bow was much too big and tacky. You looked down at your tweed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves and a moment of doubt took you. You didn’t belong here with her.

You took a breath and approached her office. You knocked on the transparent door and she didn’t look up. She flicked two fingers for you to enter as she kept her eyes on the tablet propped up against her desk.

“What is it?” She asked, still scrolling through the black text.

“I’m… supposed to give you my pitch,” You looked at the clock above her head. “It’s noon.”

“Go on then,” She still didn’t look at you.

You glanced at the chair but didn’t sit. You hated the cold, hard seat. You neared her desk and laid down your single sheet. 

“In the last four months, there has been a string of assaults on a block which hosts a slew of prostitutes. The women who have been attacked all bear the same scars; from hairline to chin.” You said evenly. “I intend to write about these women who work there and get their stories and what is being done, or not being done, by the police.”

She slowly looked up through her half-moon glasses. She let the tablet lay flat and sat back in the tall white leather chair.

“Prostitutes? You mean the most common victims of assault? Hardly revolutionary reporting.” She sniffed.

“Think about it. Each woman who has been attacked in this manner has survived but she has been marked. It’s like… Jack the Ripper. He’s circling the block. Don’t you think one day he’ll get bored of just a slice? Saturday, a girl’s arm was broken too. It’s the first major injury beside the cuts.” You slid your printed pitch closer to her. “It’s only a matter of time before this is the new Whitechapel.”

She lifted a brow and reached to take the paper. Her eyes glossed over the text and she looked up at you again.

“This really what you wanna do?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve already have interviews lined up.” You assured her. “I think this could be good. It might even help stop these assaults before they cross that line.”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“We’ll see,” She set the page down. “I hope you don’t miss the mail room that bad.”

You withheld a frown and left her as she shooed you with her hand. Her confidence was disheartening. You wondered if maybe you’d taken a wild misstep. If perhaps you had gotten ahead of yourself. 

You sat at your desk and grabbed your phone. You took the folded paper beneath it; the list of names and numbers Rashida had given you the day before. Well, you had to make your shot and if you missed, it could be fatal.

🖋️

You spent the rest of your day calling the women and trying to arrange further interviews. Selene, though she sounded nervous, agreed and only one other; Tess. It was a start and a better one than you expected. Then you put in your earbuds and listened to the recording of your second meeting with Rashida. You transcribed diligently as you tuned out those around you.

You were spooked by a tap on your shoulder. You tore out your ear bud and glanced at Essie. She smiled as you closed out your work and turned to her. She had her Barbie pink purse on her elbow and her phone in her other hand. It must have been later than you thought.

“Hey, Rima and I are going for a drink. We were wondering if you wanted to come. It’s been a while.” She smiled.

Essie had started at the same time as you; she, an intern as you were relegated to the mail room. Still, you shared a sense of comradery as she had been a constant in your time at Motley. You peeked back at your screen and checked the time in the corner. You shrugged. There wasn’t much else you could do that night.

“I could do a drink.” You stood. “I heard you were doing a piece on some new designer?”

“Yeah,” She chimed proudly as you shut off your computer and grabbed your purse. “I’m hoping it can get me an interview at Elle or Vogue. You know this place isn’t really the height of fashion.”

“No, not at all,” You chuckled. “Surprising, given Poppy’s wardrobe.”

“The devil wears fake prada,” Essie snorted. A taller woman appeared at her side; Rima’s sharp bob highlighted the angles of her jaw.

“Hey,” Rima said as she pouted, her lips smooth beneath a coat of dark lipstick. “We aren’t going to that horrible Pop place again. Those lights give me a headache.”

“It was called Bubble and you didn't mind so much after that shot of tequila.” Essie chided.

“No tequila for me,” You intoned. “I’ve got an interview tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” Essie said coyly.

You shook your head and even Rima’s dour sneer cracked.

“No dancing,” Rima declared. “It’s not even Friday yet.”

“Then you’ll owe me on Friday,” Essie countered as she led the way between desks. “And a shot.”

🖋️

You sipped your gin slowly. You didn’t need a hangover on top of everything else and you weren’t really in the mood for alcohol. Or the chatty New York barroom. As always, you regretted your inclination to be social. You’d rather be at home, hypnotized by a screen as you tried to decide what to order on your pizza.

You didn’t talk much, you didn’t really care about the new pop star or onset romance. Rima barely seemed to stomach it herself but indulged Essie in her tabloid dreams. The night wore on as you found your glass empty and hid it behind your arm as you smiled. You were eager to find an excuse to leave before midnight.

“Ugh, I gotta break the seal,” Essie whined. “Damn.”

“Too bad,” Rima said dryly. “Don’t fall in.”

“Wow, love you too,” She huffed. “I thought this was a girls’ night.”

“You’re a big girl. You can handle it.” Rima teased. “I’m comfortable right here.”

Essie frowned and looked at you. You shrugged. You had been avoiding the smelly bathrooms. She spun around sharply and marched away in defeat. It was quiet for a moment, then Rima’s voice pierced through those around you.

“I read your article. On Captain America,” She said. “Very… interesting. I hear he’s been in hiding.”

“Oh?” You blinked at her. “I haven’t really… been paying attention. Gotta keep up with my new story.”

“New story?” She mused. “You mean… everyone in town is talking about Steve Rogers and you have the scoop and you’re just going to toss it away.”

“What scoop?” You asked.

“Well, what happened off the record?” She snickered. “We are all so curious and our imaginations do get the best of us.”

“It was… I just left,” You said. “Really. It wasn’t that… dramatic.”

“Oh, but we all got a taste of that temper. You must’ve been terrified.” She prodded. “Weren’t you? A man that big--”

“Why are you so curious?” You wondered.

“Just… am.” She grabbed her drink and you glimpsed her phone behind her forearm. She drank and you saw the familiar red dot and ticking timer. “You were right. Those avengers, they need--”

“Are you recording me?” You asked. “What the fuck, Rima?”

“What, oh no?” She looked down. “I must have hit it by accident.”

“Bull shit.” You pushed away your empty glass. “I should’ve… I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Really, it wasn’t--”

“Save it. You can find your own story. I’m not it.” You hissed and saw Essie emerge from the bathrooms. You grabbed your purse and stormed over to her. “I’ll see you at the office.”

“What? Wait? Where are you going?”

“Home. I’m too old for this place,” You stopped on your heel. “Have fun.”

🖋️

The next day, you chose to forego your check-in at the office. Your pitch was approved, you’d sent your transcription to the cloud, and you weren’t so eager to see Rima again. You would see Selene at noon and hunker down back at your apartment, hopefully with even more to work with.

You left at ten. Enough time to stop and grab a bite between transfers. At midtown, you got a bagel and tea and sat in the cafe that smelled of cinnamon and beans. You spread the cream cheese and the door opened and closed. The line was growing longer and longer and you thanked your luck at getting ahead of it.

As you bit into your bagel and a seed stuck to your lip, you were surprised by an unexpected figure before you. You looked up and nearly choked. Steve Rogers wore a navy tee and jeans; much more casual than the captain presented to the world. You grabbed a napkin and covered your mouth as you chewed and swallowed.

“Steve?” You blinked.

“Hey, I know this is…” He looked around. “Weird. I was just coming in to grab a smoothie and I didn’t think it was you.”

“Oh?” You looked at the green drink in his hand. “Yeah, uh, coincidence.”

“Well, I’ve had to kinda change things up lately. Not gonna lie, I had to outrun a man with a camera a few blocks back.” He raised his brow in exasperation.

“Look, what has happened, the reaction, it’s not what I meant--” You found it hard to speak. You imagined your last week and a half had been much easier than his; even with all the chaos. “I was trying to show that you were more than a shield. That you weren’t just the righteous war hero and I guess…”

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked. “Just for a second.”

“Uh, yeah,” You said hesitantly. You folded the wrapper over the bagel as he took the chair across from you.

“I got angry. That’s on me.” He said and paused to sip his smoothie. “And you’re right, I’m not perfect. I think the world should see that. I’d… like to do another interview.”

“Steve, look, I understand what you’re trying to do but it’s already out there. It can’t be taken back, people have already decided on what they think. I’m sorry but I can’t undo it.” You said.

“I know,” He was on the edge of his chair. “I’m not looking to clear anything up, I know that can’t be done. I just want a second chance. To paint a clearer, fuller picture of myself.”

“I… I’m real sorry but I’m in the middle of something else and I just think it might be too soon for all that.” You rubbed your neck. “Steve, I really am sorry about how it turned out.”

“For me then. You don’t have to promise a story. If you think it’s garbage, toss it.” He pleaded. “But I’d just like to do it for me. For closure. And if it ends up on the newsstand, all the better. If not, well, I know I tried to fix things.”

“I… guess I could… it would have to be tomorrow at the soonest. I have another interview this afternoon and I’d have to prepare.” You explained.

“Tomorrow,” He nodded and stood. “Perfect.”

“Alright. Does one o’clock work?” You asked.

“It works. Um, come in the back?” He said as a wrinkle deepened in his forehead. “There’s a bit of an issue with the front door. It’s a bit crowded.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “Right.”

“If you’re coming from the subway, you want to turn down the little bike path off the street before. There’s a red ornament on my gate, a little star.”

“Alright. I’ll see ya then.” You tried to smile but found it hard.

“Oh, and…” He grabbed his cup. “I’m sorry too. I wasn’t very nice and I knew you’d ask questions. It’s your job. I’m better than that.”

“It’s really nothing. I’ve dealt with worse.” You assured him.

“Okay. Tomorrow.” He tapped the table top. “Thanks for letting me interrupt your breakfast.”

You watched him go and he passed the window without another glance. There was a pit in your stomach. A sudden guilt. You’d caused him so much trouble and you’d been so concerned with yourself. So bad he was practically begging to talk. 

You had completely misjudged him. He wasn’t an angry man, he was only human. He made mistakes like everyone else. He should, at least, be allowed that one flaw.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXV

(A/N at the end, please read for an announcement, thank you)

Parts I-XXIV:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

Part XXIII

Part XXIV

.XXV.

“Is he alive?” Lucie demanded before her mind could return to her after jumping from one realm to the other with Belial’s hand tight around her own. His grip burned into her skin like scolding water; she was sure when he released her there would be a mark, but to surprise there wasn’t.  

Once in the shadowrealm, Belial released her and straightened his jacket, brushing invisible dust off the front. “He’s alive.”

“How do I know you’re not lying,” demanded Lucie, “that you didn’t just leave him there in a puddle of his own blood after you got what you were after?”

“You don’t,” sneered Belial. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

Lucie unleashed a bitter laugh. “Never. I’d sooner trust a stranger off the streets than trust you. You’re a monster.”

The insult didn’t seem to phase Belial. “Don’t you forget, darling granddaughter, that we are kin.”

“No we are not,” said Lucie. “A Shadowhunter’s blood is too strong to be tainted by the filth of yours.”

The slight twitch at the corner of Belial’s mouth told Lucie that had struck him. Perhaps weakly, but it struck him all the same. 

“Come along.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and with a nod of his head, motioned for her to follow him. 

A violent, hot wind pushed against Lucie’s back as if urging her after him, but she held her ground. She hadn’t realized since arriving in this other realm, where exactly she was, until she looked around for any hope of an escape. It didn’t look promising. There was a steal black, rot iron fence that went on farther than Lucie could see and was far too tall for her to climb. It was twined with thick spikes that held empaled, dangling inhuman figures. Some fluttered in the wind like kite tails and others still moaned. The fence stood in front of a massive, black stone manor that looked like the lair of every evil villain that haunted her nightmares. The peaks of the roof pointed in the air like a dragon’s scales, dead ivy clung to the bricks and dripped a reddish liquid that smelt sickly sweet. Around her, Lucie could hear the moans of lost souls on the wind and felt a shudder run through her body.  

Looking up at it, all of her defiance and bravery evaporated and she quietly wished for her parents, a thing she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. She quietly wished that she weren’t alone. She’d even take one of her ghosts. 

Belial walked up the front steps to the grand arched doorway. They opened for him at the command of his mere presence, groaning with ancient age and ruin, and Belial entered without waiting for Lucie.

Her whole body trembled as she contemplated turning and running, when she felt something cool in all of the heat, brush against her left hand.

She looked down and found a nearly translucent hand gripping hers. When she looked up again, she met the pale eyes of a young woman’s face. The face was familiar, but Lucie couldn’t quiet place it, like a word dangling on the tip of her tongue. The ghost flickered in the wind and offered Lucie a shy smile. “You are not alone, Lucie Herondale. We are here to help you.”

“Help me what?”

The ghost turned forward again and disappeared in the wind as it rushed over Lucie as if conscious of the threat against this realm’s master. Lucie released a sigh as her name was called from inside the manor. 

When she didn’t immediately move, two black armored sentries that she’d thought were statues moved towards her. 

“Fine,” she kicked a cloud of dust at one and skirted past the other as she walked towards the door. 

The walls of the manor stood at least twenty feet tall and were the color of rich, fresh, never burnt coal that still had the diamond sheen to it. They rose and rose and rose into peaks that disappeared into complete darkness. The floor beneath her feet turned from darkened wood to a circular formation made of marble with a star upside down in the center. Realizing that she was standing in the center of it, Lucie took several hasty steps off until she nearly pressed herself against a wall. 

There was no warmth here. No light, no softness, no peace, like a place only murders, tyrants, and beast were buried. Lucie wanted to flea more than she’s ever wanted to run before, but she squared her shaking shoulders and fixed her eyes on Belial standing on the first landing of the staircase. A chandelier of onyx crystals hovered above him, tinkling whenever the house would shutter with the wind. 

“Follow me,” said Belial. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

“Staying?” Lucie’s voice echoed in the massive room, clanging off the walls like a trill bell. “What do you mean staying?”

Belial rubbed at the space between his eyes and exhaled. “Where you will remain until I say otherwise.”

“And here I was under the impression that world damnation was a rather pressing agenda,” balked Lucie. “If I’d known you needed a bit of nap first, I wouldn’t have put up such a fight.”

The house rumbled as Belial spun on Lucie. “I’m growing tired of your petulant little mouth. You can follow me to a room or you can stand there until I come for you. The choice is yours.”

“Now I get a choice?” Lucie hissed. “How kind of you.”

“You’ve always had a choice, Lucie. You could have chosen not to come with me and let your friend die.”

She bristled and crossed her arms across her chest. “A choice isn’t a choice when it’s forced upon you.”

“Well it’s yours now,” said Belial. “Choose wisely. All manner of questionable creatures lurk through these halls searching for lost souls to torment or devour.”

Is that what she was now, she wondered. Nothing more than a lost soul. She trembled to think of it.

As if on cue, a malicious laugh came from down the hallway and the sound crawled up her spine until the fine hairs rose on her neck. Belial was nearly to the top of the stairs; she was sure he wouldn’t descend after her if some unmentionable creature favored the taste of living flesh. If that was still indeed what she was. 

Lucie hurried to the steps but slowed as to not show her fear. 

Belial waited with his back to her staring at a grand portrait, bigger than any the queen had in the palace, of a scene that look quite biblical. If the Bible was written by a demon. Humans were at war with inhuman creatures: demons and monsters alike. The demons had massacred a fields worth of humans, the ground covered in blackness richer than the starless sky. The sky was painted purple, with thick clouds rolling towards the battle. Two peaks stood in the distance. On one stood a figure, the silhouette of a taloned beast raising his hands to the sky. Standing on the other mountain, a twin to the first, was a glowing figure the only bit of light in the darkness raising a sword over its head as if to throw it at the beast.

“The battle of good versus evil,” said Belial. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes,” said Lucie and swallowed. “However the version I’ve heard goes quiet a bit differently and it does not favor your side.”

“My side?” Belial’s dark eyebrow arched. “And which side do you suppose that is?”

“Well, the evil side,” said Lucie. “Death, destruction, pain, darkness—“

“And the good side doesn’t have any of those things?” asked Belial. “Death, destruction, pain, darkness— none? It’s wholly and completely good?”

“Yes,” said Lucie simply.

“Really?” Belial’s mouth twitched. “What about the death of your friends? What of young Jesse Blackthorns untimely death? Or illnesses? What about the destruction good endures to ensure good wins? What about the pain caused before good is achieved or the good pain causes when something ceases to be good? What then?”

“Those things are just evil seeping into the good,” said Lucie.

“And good cannot seep into what is evil?”

“Sure if can,” said Lucie. “At least, that’s we all hope for.”

“So it’s not so black and white is it,” said Belial. “It’s all a bit grey?”

“No,” said Lucie quietly. “It’s a balance.”

Belial look at her then, but she didn’t return the attention. She started at the two sides of the picture. Darkness devouring the light. She always thought that good was suppose to prevail. That light would chase away the darkness, but perhaps they both needed one another. Too much good can be a bad thing just as much as too much bad. 

Belial nodded. “We’re going to restore that balance.”

Lucie huffed a laugh. “Is the delusion you’re running on? No, you are not.”

“Good cannot always win,” said Belial. “That’s not balance. You’ll see.”

And I’m the petulant one, thought Lucie, but thought better of saying as much. She followed Belial down the lightly lit hall where shadows flickered in the sconced candle light. He stopped at the third door down on the left and opened it. 

“You’re to stay here until I come for you,” said Belial. “The door is locked from the outside, so make yourself comfortable.”

Lucie stepped inside the dank room that smelled terribly of sulfur. A large bed stood pushed up against the wall with a four poster canopy hanging over it. The only other piece of furniture was a desk across from the bed where a candelabra flickered. 

“Enjoy your nap,” said Lucie as Belial slammed the door behind himself. 

After several moments, Lucie turned around away from the door to face the window when she came nose to nose with the ghost from earlier.

“By the angel!” She nearly scream. “What— How are you here?” She whispered in case he wasn’t far enough away to hear her.

“You summoned me,” said the ghost and walked over to the desk to examine the skull of what might have been a large rodent. 

“No, I didn’t,” said Lucie rather defensively. The ghost continued examining the room. “If I don’t know why you’re here then how can I be expected to trust you?”

The ghost straightened again, her white hair billowed out around her shoulders in an invisible wind. “Why I am here is up to you, Lucie. You summoned me.”

“I didn’t,” hissed Lucie, wanting to yell but knowing that she couldn’t. She backed up and plopped herself down on the end of the bed. “If I did, I didn’t mean to.”

“Why not?” asked the ghost as she came to sit beside her on the edge of the bed. Sit being the wrong word, she hovered over the mattress. “You’ve been our closest ally to the living world since you were a child. I used to sing to you when you were falling asleep. Do you remember?” She started humming a familiar song, one Lucie would often catch herself humming without knowing the words or where she’d learned it. 

“That was you?” 

The ghost nodded. “As you got older, your ability to send us away or call for us became stronger. We could no longer come and go as we pleased as you learned to keep us away. Soon, we could only visit you in your sleep.”

Lucie’s chest ached. “Is that what I am right now? Asleep?”

“No,” said the ghost. “No, you are very awake and still very much alive. And there’s work to be done, Lucie.”

“Work?” Lucie bristled. “Are you working for Belial? Are you here to make sure that I cooperate?”

The ghost chuckled. “No, I am here because you summoned me.”

“You keep saying that,” said Lucie. “But I have no idea who you are.”

“Of course you do,” said the ghost. “You just don’t remember.”

“Why would I summon you and not someone that I remember,” she challenged. “If you’re not working for Belial then prove it.”

“I will,” said the ghost. “When you defeat him. You will understand.”

“Defeat him? I don’t know how to defeat him,” whispered Lucie, her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m not the right person for this. I’m not as cunning as my brother, strong as my father, or brave as Cordelia. No, my strength lies in other things. They could find a way, I just know they could. My greatest weapon has always been my pen— my mind. I won’t be able to do this alone.”

“Then perhaps you don’t have to do this alone,” said the ghost. 

“What do you mean?” asked Lucie.

The ghost smirked. “Use your imagination, Lucie. What would one of your characters do if they were this situation with your abilities?”

Lucie thought for a moment if it were the beautiful Cordelia held prisoner. She’d probably manage to make a weapon with something around her or find a creative way to escape right underneath the villain’s nose. But she was not the beautiful Cordelia and this was not a story. 

“Sometimes our greatest strengths won’t arise until the moments we need them most.”

As if a light had been flipped by a switch, Lucie suddenly understood what was being asked of her and she was overcome with dread.

“What will everyone think of me?” asked Lucie. “They’ll think me a demon— a monster.”

“Nonsense.” The ghost patted Lucie’s hand or tried to, her hand slid through Lucie’s like softened butter. “They’ll think you a hero.”

“How could you know that?”

“They’d be stupid not to,” said the ghost. “And there was once a time when I was a bit different. At first I was afraid of who I was. I hid from it and that nearly cost me my own life and the life of the people I loved most. It wasn’t until I embraced my otherness that I was able to find true happiness. And my fear of what those around me would think, well it seems I was wrong about them all along. They supported me. Sure, there were some that didn’t, but our paths rarely crossed and I didn’t bother with them. You have a family that adores you exactly as you are. Loyal friends that will welcome you and defend you. Pride is often the weakness of our greatest strengths. It’s time to stop living in fear of what other will think of you, Lucie, and embrace who you are; the abilities that only you have to offer.”

A tear dripped from Lucie’s chin. “I’m frightened.”

“Do it anyway,” said the ghost. “Remember you’re not alone. As a Shadowhunter, you’re never fighting alone. You have centuries of strength coursing through your veins . You need only call on it.”

“Who did you say you were again?”

“A very old friend.” The ghost stood and headed towards the door. 

“Where are you going?”

“To prepare,” said the ghost. “Don’t worry. We’ll see each other again very soon.”

The ghost floated through the door and disappeared. Her haunting words echoed in Lucie’s mind. 

She let herself fall back on the bed and stared at the blood red canopy above her. Draw on her ability; stop being so prideful; trust herself; rely on her own strength. No one was coming to rescue her, but that didn’t mean she was alone. Lucie knew what she needed to do. She wasn’t sure that it was entirely possible, but it was the only option she had, and she had to try. For her family, friends, and the world she was born to protect, she had to try.

If Belial wanted an army, then an army he shall have.

(A/N: Happy New Year’s friends! I hope you kissed 2020 goodbye in a way that felt satisfying considering the monstrosity that was this crap bag of a year. While I like to rag on 2020 because of all it took from me and my family, there were some great things— like all of you for example. I am extremely grateful for your loyalty and passion for this project. Since it is coming to a close, I would like to ask something of all of you. I have been working on a project of my own this last year, and have been considering sharing it on Tumblr and Archive. It’s about a young nurse named Vienna, whose life is constantly at risk because of a secret born unto her— she’s part of a race of magic welders called the Magicki who are being hunted and destroyed by a paranoid tyrant king. Through her 20 years of life she’s managed to keep her secret well hidden from everyone, until one night she’s attacked by the king’s elite and brutal soldiers, and her own instincts rise to save her and also condemn her. The attack, along with rebellious acts against the king occurring in the city, starts a manhunt for those responsible. Vienna must learn to use her power or watch her people die. This story is told from the perspective of three different characters: Vienna the nurse, Kollins the daughter of a dangerous Lord, and Rhin a Captain in the king’s guard. While they may all come from different paths of life, their paths will inevitably cross, but can they set aside their prejudices enough to help one another or see an entire race be destroyed?

Sound any good? I’d love your opinions! I am thinking of posting the first couple of chapters for review. Please comment or message me if you are interested. As always stay safe, stay healthy, and stay kind. Next update is coming on January 10th.)

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 23 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,950

Warnings: Violence, blood, the use of explosives, a bad movie reference, death (kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13  

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter 

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They were once again sitting around the conference table looking at a map. In this instance, the squabbling had, thankfully, been kept at a minimum. With a common enemy between them, all the anger and mistrust of each other had been redirected outwardly. There was no sense in fighting with one another when a greater peril threatened them all.

Lilah had marked several points all along an open space in the desert—possible hideouts Benny had used in the past. Javier was currently working with a small, trusted crew to root out where he might be through other means. While waiting for new information, they developed about five plans, all centered around obliterating the ever loving hell out of him.

She’d given up on steering the plan into less violent territory, settling for making things as quick and as efficient as possible. Lilah wanted no more incidents of near-death for the people in this room, herself included. If that meant others had to die, then so be it.

Seth leaned back in his chair, “We won’t be able to get any further on this until we know where he’s holed up. I say we get some food.”

They’d been at it for hours, and though Lilah wasn’t particularly hungry, she was glad for the prospect of a break.

“Pizza?” Seth asked, turning to the only other person in the room not on a liquid diet.

Lilah shrugged, “Long as its not from that place across from the grocery.”

“Oh, come on,” Seth groused, “Its not that bad.”

“The health inspection code is a ‘C’,” she countered, “They found rats.”

“Not in the pizza.”

She leveled a stern look at him, “They found them in the fryers.”

Seth rolled his eyes, but relented, “Alright. I’ll pick another place.”

Lilah leaned on her elbows with an indulgent expression as Seth took out a phone and pulled up the website to order. The phone wavering in her vision, the reminder of how she’d been captured, made her flinch. She covered it by running her hand over the map, but not before Brasa felt it.

Sitting to her right, he had been texting frequently with Javier, relaying the updates as he got them. Sensing her unease, his thumbs paused over the screen as he mentally reached out to her.

Lilah rolled her shoulders, taking the comfort he offered. She had a mission to accomplish. She could cry about being kidnapped later. Belatedly, Lilah realized that the ‘deal with later’ pile was pretty damn big and she would definitely have to take some time to actually deal with it.

Richie, who had been checking in on Kate, tossed his phone onto the table, “Much as I hate to ask, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, “I’ll have something brought to us.”

“Its appreciated,” Richie replied in a rare instance of sincere, professional gratitude.

She took in Richie’s appearance. He looked...tired. As a man of nearly unbounded energy, to see the glint in his eye diminished was unsettling.

“I’m sorry about Jackknife’s,” she said, catching his attention.

He lifted a shoulder in affected nonchalance, “Its good. We’ll rebuild.”

That boded well. Lilah half expected to hear that he was moving on to another high risk, high yield project. That he was sticking with the place hinted at Kate’s grounding presence.

“Did the bar top survive?”

Richie smiled, “Yeah. Its a bit singed.”

“That’ll just give it character.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “We got interviews with contractors in a few weeks.”

She made a soft sound of praise, “Look at you, doing interviews, being official.”

His eyes dropped, demure, “We figured we should actually follow the policies you wrote.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Richie’s attention was momentarily taken by a staff asking him about his blood type preferences, and Lilah found herself staring at the map. The ground cover was too wide, she didn’t have enough supplies. There were too many unknowns for her to be comfortable with moving forward. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t just make a decision and be done with it—execute.

The door to the conference room opened and Javier strolled in. Dressed in all white, a gleaming silver cane tapping along beside him, he was smiling wide. Cat and canary.

“I have brought some guests.”

Two staff were each dragging along a single, fighting person. Lilah didn’t recognize them, but she caught their fangs flashing as they grunted in pain. Clothing bloodstained and ripped, they looked like they’d been in a serious fight—which she guessed they had.

Brasa stood, gloved hand sliding along the wood of the table as he circled it, “Do they have the information we need.”

Javier’s smile held, “I believe they do.”

“Good. Bring them to my office.”

“As you wish.”

Brasa watched them go, then turned to the group, “I will need to question them. You may remain here for the time being. Rest. Eat. I will return when I have Benny’s location.”

Lilah cut in, “I’m going with you.”

He fixed her with a hard look, “This is not an easy thing to do. I will very likely need to hurt them.”

She blinked, “I’m sorry, who in this room just got kidnapped? I think I’m owed a little time to take out some aggression.”

From his perch on the tabletop, Richie drawled, “She’s got a point.”

Brasa glared at Richie, earning himself an amused laugh. Then, he gave a single, curt nod, and reached out for her. Lilah took his hand and followed him out of the conference room and to his public office. The two chairs that normally sat in front of his desk had been pulled out so that they faced the walkway dissecting the room. In each sat a battered culebra—one with his head hanging down, the other glaring defiantly at no one in particular.

Lilah let Brasa lead her to them. His step slowed several paces away and he squeezed her hand before letting go. Lilah stopped where he left her, folding her hands in front of her body as she took in the scene.

Javier was standing off to the side, the staff having left prior to their arrival. His expression was relaxed, but she sensed a hardness underneath it. They’d done this before. Possibly hundreds of times over their unimaginably long lives. She drew in a breath to steady herself.

Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets as he regarded them, “What are your names?”

“Up yours,” came from the glaring one.

Without hesitation, and seemingly without thought, Brasa kicked out. His foot landed on the knee of ‘up yours’, the bone crunching audibly. Lilah felt her hands clench at the sound, but she managed to keep the wince from her face. ‘Up yours’ screamed in pain, his chin tilted up to the ceiling. He let out another, softer sound, then visibly calmed himself. He’d been prepped for this.

Stepping forward, Lilah edged around Brasa, one hand brushing his arm. She leaned down and caught the eye of ‘up yours’, “This will go much easier for you if you answer our questions.”

His glare returned, more fierce than before, “We’re prepared to die for this.”

Lilah nodded, two fingers touching his temple, “We’ll grant you that. Death is much better than what he,” she jerked her head towards Brasa, “is going to do to you if you refuse to cooperate.”

“Luis,” came a small voice to her right.

Lilah glanced over at him, “Luis. Is that you?”

He nodded.

“And this one?”

A hesitation, then, “Rafe.”

“Rafe,” Lilah echoed, turning her attention forward once again. “Where is Benny?”

Rafe pulled away from her touch, “Nowhere. Everywhere.”

She very nearly rolled her eyes. They knew that Benny had created a kind of weird mystique around himself and his mission. They also knew that he had cast them as the villains in the story. The technique made a lot of sense—it was still annoying as fuck.

A scoff from Brasa, followed by, “Spare us your delusions.”

Lilah straightened to standing, “Benny failed you over and over. Why continue to protect him?”

Luis cast her a look that was edging on pathetic, “He saved us.”

“From what?”

“From you,” Rafe answered, something more than derision in his voice. Hatred, perhaps.

Brasa moved. Slow. Relaxed. “Why would you need to be saved from us?”

Another answer from Rafe, “You are Xibalban. We know what you do to our kind.”

There it was. They’d been told enough to keep them scared—little truths that were coated in a thin, thin lie. Easy to swallow. Easy to accept. Easy to break.

“It is true that my people once committed inconceivable atrocities against yours,” Brasa allowed with a congenial dip of his head, “But that is not what I intend, nor is it what I will allow. Not any longer.”

Rafe sneered, “Liar.”

“Sometimes,” Brasa admitted, “When the moment calls for it. But, this is not that moment. I am not lying.”

Luis spoke, his lips trembling, “We don’t know that. You’ve been hunting us down. Killing us.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged the truth for what it was, “Only those who put us all at risk.”

Lilah could see how this was going to play out, could already hear the back and forth that would take time that they just didn’t have. Benny could strike again at any time, possibly with more firepower. Every second they spent debating right and wrong, good and bad, was a second that could cost the life of someone she cared about. Lilah made a decision.

Reaching into the pocket of Brasa’s slacks, she pulled out his knife, flipping the blade open. With deliberate slowness, she showed each of them the weapon. Then, she started talking.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity. The offer is time limited, and it will be given to only one of you.  Tell us where Benny is, and you live. First come, first serve.”

The room was quiet, save for the near constant snarls coming from Rafe. Lilah waited. Knife in hand, she simply let the quiet hold, let the uncomfortable stillness of silence make them squirm. If they knew Benny’s whereabouts, they’d tell her, and soon.

Luis broke first, “He’s in the tunnels, about ten miles north of where he...found you.”

The last two words were halting, as if he knew he shouldn’t say it, but couldn’t quite help himself. Next to her, Brasa growled low and long. She could feel the heat of his anger build both physically and within the confines of the bond.

“We have a winner,” she rasped, affected by how viscerally Brasa was emoting. Knowing that the longer they sat there, the risk of blood spilling would rise exponentially, Lilah turned from Brasa, “Javier, if you would, take Luis to be questioned further.”

“As you wish, Lady Lilah.”

Brasa held up a hand, “I want details, Javier. I want to know what Benny is planning.”

With a flourish, Javier hauled Luis up, tossing him towards the door, “I will take care of this.”

Luis landed hard on his knees, grunting in pain. But, he got up and let Javier lead him, limping, out of the room. The door closed with a kind of hard finality that eased Lilah’s anxiety. She felt Brasa’s confidence in Javier’s ability to get more of what they needed from Luis.

That left Rafe.

Lilah’s fingers gripped the knife, her jaw set, “Were you there when Benny took me?”

She didn’t recognize him, but she’d been hit pretty hard and had been too preoccupied with playing possum to memorize the faces of the people hauling her away. Beside her, Brasa removed his gloves.

Rafe shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

Another shake.

“I believe you.”

He visibly relaxed.

“But,” she continued, “I did say the offer would only be given to one of you.”

Rafe, knowing that she wasn’t going to relent, let out a sound of rage, rising unsteadily from the chair, hands outstretched towards her. He was stopped by Brasa’s hand around his throat. There was an almost too soft to hear pop as his larynx was crushed, the sound of his anger cut off with a wheeze.

Lilah closed the knife and slipped it back into Brasa’s pocket. Then, deliberately, she took a step back and crossed her arms. She’d said that she wanted vengeance, but exacting it with her own hands felt somehow unnecessary. All the fire that had been there five minutes before dissipated, leaving her feeling deflated.

Brasa had no such issues. His fingers curled deeper into Rafe’s throat, pushing beneath his skin. Blood welled up, dripping down the back of his hand to the floor. Lilah didn’t have to look at his eyes to know that they were red with rage, the glow of his power burning ever brighter beneath his skin. Flame burst from Rafe’s eyes, smoke wafting from his pores. He seared from the inside out, his body cracking into dust from the top down.

Brasa’s arm dropped, and he wiped the dust from his hands, his attention on the pile at his feet, “I should get a broom.”

Lilah looked at the spread of particles, trying hard not to think about the fact that it had once been a person, “We might have more important things to do right now.”

His brows quirked, “You might be right.”

***

Lilah stood at her station, well away from where the action would go down. The night was deep and dark, the new moon casting no light to guide their way. She looked over her equipment, one hand brushing over the black metal box sitting innocently to her right. Her laptop was gently whirring, all comms connected. At her thigh, her pistol rested in its holster, her knife strapped to her arm. Lilah hoped she wouldn’t have to use them.

According to Javier, Luis had talked freely, answered question after question. All of this was relayed to Lilah in detail until she felt like she had a good grasp on Benny’s plan. Brasa had sent Javier to set up the final blow, refusing to allow Lilah to do it, herself, as was her preference. She was too tired to argue, never having fully rested since the bomb had gone off two days before.

It was hard to think about it, the breakneck pace she’d been going at over that time. Lilah couldn’t even nail down if she’d slept properly, couldn’t remember eating or showering. And so, when Brasa had firmly pulled her into their room, she hadn’t resisted.

Assured that her friends were being taken care of, she’d let Brasa strip her down and run her a bath, let him wash her with soothing motions, until the water cooled And then, they’d tumbled naked into bed, the full darkness of the room letting her fall into a deep sleep.

She wished that she could say that she felt fully rested. While Lilah had slept for a long time, she had awoken groggy. Her body ached with something that wasn’t quite injury. She sleep walked through getting ready for the day, reluctantly eating a meal next to Seth, who sat drinking coffee while he cleaned his gun.

It wasn’t until she began to set up for the job that Lilah’s brain kicked in. This was it. They could be done with this awful mess today. If they succeeded, Lilah vowed to herself that she was going to do something fun—maybe rob a museum.

As she was contemplating this, heat built at her back. She looked up to find Brasa and Javier standing not far away. Brasa was wearing the familiar uniform of leather, sunglasses perched on his nose. Next to him, Javier was very much out of uniform. Instead of a sharply tailored suit, her wore thick canvas pants and a long sleeved shirt. He’d forgone his usual cane, a literal sword strapped to his hip.

“Are we set up?” She asked Javier.

With a deferential nod, he answered, “We are.”

“And you made sure to ground the connection—its just that it could go early if you—.”

Brasa laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “He was very thorough. This will work.”

Lilah’s jaw shut with an audible click. She pursed her lips, the effort to hold back further questions not inconsequential. She busied her hands and her mind with activating the comms.

“McNamara online,” she said evenly.

It took a few seconds to get a response, but eventually she heard the click of the mic turning on.

“Richie Gecko online.”

“Oh, shut up,” Seth groused, “We’re in place.”

“You’re the one who said we should take this seriously.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the fucking movies.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Alright. Hang tight while we get a lock on him.”

Tapping her mouse pad, Lilah opened the tracking app, “You think he’ll go for it?”

Javier shifted on his feet, “I believe he will. He’s already proven that he’ll sacrifice anyone and anything to protect his own skin.”

She stared at the little dots on the screen, “And Luis?”

“Running back to daddy,” he intoned, derision tainting his voice.

“You’re sure.”

He sighed, “I’ve done this a thousand times over. I know fear. I made him very, very scared before I let him go.”

The intensity with which he spoke, the unsaid threat in his tone, was enough to make Lilah drop the subject. She turned her attention to the screen, taking note of her location and the pair of dots indicating Seth and Richie. At the bottom left corner was a renegade dot that was steadily moving towards them. She watched it shift across the screen, pixels lighting up along the path.

It stopped at a fair distance from where the other two were congregated. Lilah held her breath as she waited for it to either stay where it was or start moving again. It stayed.

“He’s back,” Lilah murmured.

A flash of headlights appeared, lighting her station. She turned around in her seat, squinting at the car coming towards them.

“Is that one of ours?”

Brasa touched her shoulder, “It is. I should have warned you. Richie insisted.”

The car pulled up, dust swirling around the tires as it came to a stop. The engine and lights cut off, the driver’s side door opened. A dark head popped up, hair pulled into a high pony tail. Kate was dressed for practicality—jeans, t shirt, jacket, boots, gun. She closed the door, and walked confidently towards them.

Lilah waved at her, “Welcome to the party.”

She smiled wryly, “Richie said I couldn’t go with him, so I thought I would go with you.”

To be honest, Lilah was grateful for the extra support. It was often the case that she was alone, running the logistics, while others were executing her plan. Today, when the stakes were high, she found that she didn’t like the thought of being by herself.

Brasa took her hand, saying lowly, “Keep the bond open.”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Good,” he leaned down and kissed her temple.

With a nod to Kate, Brasa turned from them. Javier stood a moment longer, his eyes absorbing Kate in detail. Then, he stepped back and followed his lord into the darkness.

Kate sighed with an odd kind of relief, “Well, what’s the plan?”

Lilah lifted a brow, “Richie didn’t tell you?”

“He said that he would be, quote, ‘fucking shit up’, but that’s as far as I got.”

That made sense. As if he’d gotten a power up in a video game, Richie had gotten some of his energy back as they neared the start of the job. As he’d loaded up the car, he’d been fairly vibrating with energy, a wide smile wrapped around a cigarette. Seth, on the other hand, had been stone cold sober—both literally and figuratively. The seriousness of his expression, the cant of his shoulders, told her that he was determined to get this done.

“Okay,” Lilah said, sliding into her chair, “This is Seth and Richie. And this,” she pointed to the errant dot, “is Luis. We’re fairly certain that he is heading back to Benny to tell him that we know his plan.”

Kate peered at the screen, “What was his plan?”

“To nuke the entire cave system, causing a sinkhole that spans across our entire territory.”

Eyes narrowing, Kate said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Lilah cut her a glance, “What about it doesn’t make sense?”

“Benny’s schtick is all about how Brasa is destroying their way of life, right? What does taking down the cave system do.”

Lilah hesitated, her mind running through it, “I...think its because Brasa said they built it.”

“They did what?”

Hand waving to the land in front of them, “They built it—the Xibalbans. Its this huge maze of tunnels that are carved deep into the rock. I’ve only seen some of it, but its huge and complex and had to have taken forever to accomplish.” She paused, eyes scanning the middle distance, “I think that he made the caves a physical representation of their rule.  I mean, right?”

Kate cocked her head to the side, “That could be right. Benny could also be batshit crazy.”

“Fair point.”

“Well, we can pretty much guarantee that he’s going to change his plan, knowing that we know.”

Lilah shook her head, “If you’re right and he is batshit, then we don’t know that. Crazy isn’t always predictable.”

“That is a fair point.”

“Which,” Lilah added, tapping out a few commands, “means that we need to get a little more inside information.”

She cued up the sound, activating the comm Javier had placed carefully into Luis’ pocket on the way out. For a few minutes, she had to screw around with the settings, trying to get the best sound quality.

We should keep to the plan—Benny. Make their land unlivable, give them no place to retreat. Then, we pick them off like the parasites they are.

What about the Xibalban? Came a voice she didn’t recognize.

They’ll protect their bondmate first. When they realize the danger, they’ll come running.

Lilah reflexively looked around, trying to discern if they were going to be attacked from the deep black of the landscape around them.

“Could they know where we are?”

“No,” Lilah answered, feeling her shoulders drop, “No, they couldn’t.”

“Then…?” Kate prompted, her head shaking from side to side in confusion. “Oh no… get your phone.’

“What? Why?”

“They’re gonna finish off the bars,” Kate’s voice cracked, “We have to get the staff out of there.”

With a long line of curses falling from her lips, Lilah sent off a barrage of texts to the floor manager, telling them to get themselves and everyone else out of the building. As she did that, the conversation coming from the ear piece continued.

We should cut and run—Naya.

We run now, and we’ll keep running. We have to hit them where it will hurt.

Didn’t we already do that? Benny, you burned down his lair, you bombed both their bars—every time you try to hit them, they just keep...coming for us.

That was not untrue, and Lilah hated that she agreed with Naya. Her mouth turned down as she listened, half her attention on the phone in her hands as she waited for confirmation that the staff had been taken to safety.

They aren’t invincible, Naya.

Neither are you. A sigh. Maybe we should leave. Maybe we should just leave them here and go find a place for ourselves.

And let them win? There was that voice she didn’t recognize.

If we don’t fight now, we’re gonna end up like Luis, over there.

A heavy silence landed in the middle of the conversation, and Lilah could only guess that Luis had been killed after he’d told Benny that he’d talked.

We just found each other, Benny. I don’t want to lose you so soon.

You won’t. We’ll handle this, and then we can start our lives together.

The sincerity of his tone, the way Lilah could hear every emotion steeping into his words...It helped her to understand how so many people could believe him when he told them that they could succeed.

Brasa’s voice sounded from over the bond, We’re in the caves. Where should we go?

Lilah relayed Benny’s location, telling him to be careful. She avoided details about the secondary plan, about how Benny had wanted to distract him. It wasn’t necessary. She’d taken care of it, and would fill him in later.

“They’re headed for Benny. If he wiggles out of it again, Seth and Richie will herd him to the back up plan.”

“What is the back up plan?”

“We got incoming!”

Lilah tapped the keyboard, “Seth, what’s going on?”

“Got a group of ‘em heading towards us. Richie and I will take care of it.”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t handle.”

Lilah nodded, even though they couldn’t see her, “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid. If it gets too hairy, cut and run.”

There was a pause, then, from Seth, “Duly noted, boss.”

Unable to listen to the gunfire she knew was coming, Lilah cut the line. Next to her, Kate checked her phone, tapping on the screen a few times.

“What’s left of Jackknife’s is empty. The staff have gone to ground.”

“Good, good.”

Lilah’s phone had been silent, no response from the manager. She hoped that meant they were taking care of business and hadn’t been killed in the second wave. Her stomach rolled with regret that she hadn’t thought he’d attack there again, that she may have inadvertently put both her staff and the remaining injured culebras in danger.

We knew you’d be here—Benny.

Apparently, Brasa and Javier had arrived. She found herself leaning into the computer as she listened.

This needs to stop, Brasa’s voice was deceptively soft. She could feel how he was going to stop things, how much it took to say what came next, The two of you can go. We just want him.

Not a chance.

I can’t leave him.

This was said simultaneously, but Lilah could pick apart the variation in tone. The unknown man spitting the words out, Naya’s voice soft and weak and desperate. She resisted feeling sorry for either of them.

We will take him by force, Javier pronounced, and she could hear some rustling, then, We don’t want you, but we will go through you.

More rustling, I’m not afraid to die. And, if I get to take you out with me, that’s a bonus.

And then there was a bang that preceded the comm cutting off entirely. Lilah stared at the screen, one finger tapping on the keyboard to try to bring the sound back. No use. It was fried. Closing her eyes, Lilah reached across the bond to find that Brasa far away, further than he’d been since the beginning of all this.

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or if he was putting distance between them so that he could concentrate on doing what needed to be done, so that he could shield her from it.

“How fast is your car?”

Kate smiled, “Pretty damn.”

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they were speeding away that Kate actually asked where they were going, “I’m literally hauling ass through the dark, here.”

Lilah pulled up her phone, opening the tracking app for the comms. She had the last location of Brasa, the little dot shining from somewhere below the ground. And then there were the two dots signifying the brothers. They were a little further South than they had been, but they were moving.

She opened the line, “Guys, you there?”

A click, “Yeah, we’re here. Kind of busy, though.”

Then, Seth cut in, “These fuckers just keep coming.”

Lilah swallowed down her rising nerves, “We’ve lost contact with Brasa and Javier. We’re gonna check it out.”

A few shots fired, the sound of it making Lilah wince. Seth’s voice followed, rough with exertion, “That’s a bad idea. He can handle himself.”

“I think,” Lilah croaked, “I think they had the same idea we did.”

There were more shots, intermittently cut through with unintelligible yelling. Lilah tried not to think about what was going on, knowing that her mind was far more creative than was typical of reality. Instead, she focused on directing Kate while she waited for a response that she might not get.

“Ah, fuck!”

“What happened?”

“Got clipped in the side,” Seth ground out, “Its not deep. I’m good.”

He wasn’t talking to her. She could tell. He was reassuring his brother.

“Quit getting hit,” Richie demanded, “We got people to kill.”

“Yes, Richie, that’s so helpful.”

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get them to focus, and the attempt might result in another injury, Lilah turned down the volume and pointed to the left of the car, “That’s about where they were.”

Kate pulled to a stop, shutting the car off, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to find him, and I want to ring his neck for leaving me in the dark.”

“Alright.”

Pull her gun from its holster, Lilah exited the car, using the headlights to peer around, “I don’t see anything.”

Kate had followed her example, a nine millimeter pointed towards the ground in front of her, “I don’t either.”

“They must still be in the caves, or—,” Lilah cut herself off as she spotted a plume of dust settling not too far away.

Kate followed her gaze, her mouth thin as she concentrated, “You think…?”

“Yeah,” Lilah breathed, “We need to be careful. The ground looks unstable.”

And indeed it did. Fissures cut through the rock below, the surface shattered in some places. Lilah eased forward, stepping back quickly when her foot sunk deep.

“Okay, what do we do?” Kate asked, taking a few steps back her eyes flicking back and forth.

“I don’t know.”

In the distance, something blew up. Another. And another. The sound came from all around them. Lilah could feel vibrations in her feet, in her chest, her hair standing on end.

“The fuck?”

Kate grabbed her arm, “The plan—they planned to blow the caves.”

Lilah stared at her, her mind slowly working to put the pieces together.

“He wasn’t going to hit the bars,” Kate said, her eyes shining with intensity, “He was going to bring us here. He knew you’d feel the hit to Brasa, knew you’d come here.”

Lilah looked down. Another bomb went off. There was no telling how many more there were, or when the ground beneath them would crumble. Angry and afraid, she reached out, slamming through the bond as it stretched thin.

I’m here. I’m fine. Javier is fine. We are near your post.

As relieved as she was to hear it, she cut through his reassurances, I already came to you. I followed the comm. Kate and I are standing on the caves.

She sensed his fear, sensed that he’d turned and was running back towards her, I’m coming.

No, no, that’s what he wants. You need to head towards Seth and Richie. They’re the next stop. Kate and I will get out of this.

Kate was already moving to the car, ushering Lilah along. Inside, she slammed the transmission into drive and they hauled ass away.

“We need to get to Seth and Richie,” Lilah said, pulling out her phone.

As she expected, their dots were moving towards the rendezvous points. Unexpectedly, the comm they’d planted on Luis was also moving. It had reconnected to the tracking system, and was flying in a twisting pattern towards the Geckos.

Lilah glared at it, flinching as a bomb went off a little too close for comfort. Kate was driving fast, the car eating up road as the engine roared. If it had been anyone else at the wheel, Lilah might have worried for her safety. As it was, Kate was a notoriously skilled getaway driver, having honed the talent over many jobs.  

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the connection button on the app. Her hunch could be wrong.

Mouth curling, Lilah connected to the comm, “You still alive?”

There was rustling along the line, a bit of feedback, then, “I am alive and well.”

“Wish I could say that I’m glad to hear it, Benny.”

He chuckled, the sound coming out forced, “Good thing I don’t give a fuck about your happiness.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m guessing that you can see where I’m heading.”

“I can.”

“Good,” he bit out, “Then you’ll know when I’ve taken care of your friends.”

“You’re not going to make it that far, Benny.”

“We’ll see.”

The comm disconnected from his side. Lilah sighed and shut down the app. She pushed her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and fiddled with the edge of one of her sleeves.

“We almost there?”

Lilah nodded. Whatever she might have answered was cut off as a bomb went off too close to the car, the ground exploding outwards. Rocks shattered the windows on the driver’s side, the car swerving as Kate tried to keep control. A second bomb went off a moment later, the back side of the car lifting about ten feet. As it slammed back down, Lilah could hear the axle crack, knew instinctively that they had to get out, and fast.

“Out! Out!” Lilah cried as she threw off her seat belt.

Disoriented, Lilah stumbled as she got out of the car, looking over the body to see Kate slamming the door closed and rounding the hood.

“You alright?”

Lilah nodded, “I’m good. The car’s fucked, though.”

As if on cue, a bomb went off maybe a hundred yards away, and the ground shifted. Lilah felt it in a way that she couldn’t describe, an intangible feeling that scared her more than she’d ever been scared before. In between one second and the next, the ground sunk down, caving in on itself. The hole grew bigger, yawning ever wider as it worked to swallow them whole.

“Run!”

Lilah had never, never made her feet move so fast. The air whipped at her as each step slammed into the ground. The roaring in her ears was only tempered by the sound of her own breathing. A glance over her shoulder saw the car rear up before falling down into the depths, cutting off the light. Gritting her teeth, she dug into her pocket, her stride slowing as she keyed up the flashlight on her phone.

The path before them was illuminated, much good that it did them. On either side of them, the ground trembled. They weren’t going fast enough. They were going to fall.

Brasa…

He heard her, but his answer was overpowered by the way the ground fell out from under her. Lilah’s arm was caught by Kate, who dragged her to the side.

“Over there, the rock formation. That’s the safest bet.”

Not in a place to argue, Lilah followed Kate’s lead, pushing through the burn and strain of her muscles. As they neared, a tiny flicker of hope swelled, urging her to just keep moving. Lilah obeyed the feeling, arms pumping, breath punching in and out.

Another huge chunk of ground swelled up and dropped, the rumbling sound of crunching rock following. She veered, moving with Kate towards the only goal in sight.

Scrambling up, Lilah climbed as quickly as she could, digging her feet into the stone and scraping her palms. Behind her, in front of her, to her left and right, the earth roiled. She could hear more of the cave system crumble in on itself, taking whoever might be inside with it.

Near the top, with Kate huffing at her side, Lilah turned and watched the disaster unfold. It was a sight she would never forget. The whole world, as far as she could see it, rocked up and down, sinking and rising, turning over almost completely.

“He meant for us to be in that,” Kate said, the barest tremble in her voice.

“He did.”

“Fuck this guy.”

“Yeah,” Lilah said, when she could find her voice again. “Fuck this guy.”

Kate closed her eyes, and Lilah didn’t even have to guess at what she was doing. She drew in a breath to follow suit.

I’m okay. We got out.

Let me through.

Have you found Seth and Richie?

Let me through.

Tell me. Did you find them.

I...did.

And?

Seth’s hurt. We can’t stop the bleeding.

Horrified, Lilah opened her eyes, catching a similar expression on Kate’s face. She made a decision.

“Tell Richie to let you through.”

Not waiting for an answer, Lilah reached out to the bond, got a good grip, and pulled. The world tipped over, and Lilah landed hard on her knee, dry heaving.

“You could have just asked,” Brasa griped from not far away. Then, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, swallowing.  As she looked up, Lilah caught Kate landing next to Richie, who was already bending down to help her up. Next to Richie was an ashen Seth. He was leaning against their car, blood soaking clean through almost the entirely of the front of his button down. His suit jacket was crumbled a few feet away, along with his gun holsters. He looked like he was going to try to stand, took a single step, and crumpled down in a heap.

“You look like shit.”

Seth started to laugh, the sound cut off by a groan of pain, “Fuck you, too.”

Ambling over to him, Lilah sat on her heels, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

He shook his head, “I’m good here. Could use a drink, though.”

“Don’t need to thin your blood any more than it already is,” Lilah shot back, “You’re hurt. This isn’t just a flesh wound.”

“Benny got in a good shot, I’ll give him that.”

Lips sneering, Lilah said, “We’ll get him back for this. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

Seth sucked his teeth, blood coating the enamel, “You need to be getting to that ace.”

“Not until I know you’re going to make it.”

He was already shaking his head, “This isn’t something you come back from.”

Seth lifted the hand that had been staunching the blood, a spurt shooting out with every beat of his heart until he covered it again.

Lilah to a moment to think, “You can. You can come back from this. Richie can help you.”

She knew the moment that he understood what she was saying. She also knew that he was going to refuse.

“I’m not having this asshole,” he pointed to his brother, “Hold it over me for eternity, thank you very much. I’ve had enough of that already.”

“Are you seriously arguing about this while you’re dying?”

Seth glared at her, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was struggling to focus.

Lilah laid a hand over his, worried by the cool skin beneath her fingers, “Then, let me do it.” Surprised by her own words, she glanced up at Brasa, “I can do it, right?”

His mouth parted, closed, parted again, and then he nodded, “Yes. Your blood is my blood, and blood is the conduit.”

Turning her attention back to Seth, Lilah lifted her brows in question, “It’ll be better if its me, right?”

He was quiet for a long time, so long that Lilah began to feel the hope that had sparked while the earth trembled beneath her feet begin to fade. And then he nodded.

Hand digging into her sweatshirt, Lilah pulled out her knife. She rolled it into her other hand. And then, before she could question it, she dug the blade in. Carefully, Lilah dripped the steady stream into Seth’s mouth.

He took a deep gulp, then tried to pull away. Lilah cradled the back of his head, holding him to the wound, her eyes lifting once more to her bondmate.

“How much?”

Brasa’s eyes were fixed where Seth’s mouth met her skin, “A bit more.”

Lilah held her position for a minute or two more, focused enough on her task that she didn’t hear the conversation going on around her. Then, when she thought it might be enough, she pulled away. Seth, already weak, couldn’t keep his head up. His eyes were rolled back, forehead clammy.

“How long does it take?”

This time, Richie answered, “It depends, but not long. I’ll stay with him. You guys go after Benny.”

Kate moved to stand next to Richie, “I’ll stay with him, too. He’ll need someone here who won’t rib him for ‘coming to the dark side’.”

The last little bit of that sentence was said with heavy sarcasm and a pair of finger quotes.

Lilah sheathed her knife and stood, “You’ll let me know that he’s okay.”

With half a smile, Richie tapped the ear piece, “I’ll give you live updates.”

“Thanks.”

Brasa moved to her side, holding up the little metal box from her station, “I thought you might need this.”

Lilah took it gratefully, “I do. Thank you.” She rose up on her tip toes and kissed him lightly, “Let’s go kill this shithead.”

After settling Seth as comfortably as possible, Lilah took the keys to the car from Seth’s coat and hopped into the driver’s side. Brasa’s body dropped into the passenger’s side, Javier nimbly climbing into the back.

She rolled down the window, pointing at Richie, “Real time updates.”

He gave her a little salute and shooed her away, his focus turning to his brother.

It surprised Lilah how quickly they arrived at the rendezvous point, though it was nowhere near where they’d found Seth and Richie. Over the horizon, the sky was beginning to grow pink with the rising of the sun. She pulled to a stop a good distance away from where she knew Benny would be.

If all had gone to plan, they would have all been sitting here, watching this. Lilah comforted herself with the knowledge that they were at least unhurt, mostly. Seth would get better, would be healed before she got back.

Opening the door, Lilah got out, closing it behind her, the black box tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t bother looking for Brasa and Javier to follow, already moving around the huge boulder she’d parked behind. Pulling out her phone, she checked the dot representing Benny. He was right where she wanted him to be.

Below, the rock face sheered off, giving her the best view of the helipad just across a flowing river. Lilah breathed in the cool morning air, wind blowing gently.

Brasa leaned against the rock to her right, glasses reflecting the world below, “I can do it, if you want.”

Lilah looked at him.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to.”

She caught the glimmer of Javier as he stood at a respectable distance, felt the subtle change in light as the sun continued to rise. The night seemed far away already. The anxiety. The fear. The relief. It all felt as if it were a dream. And yet, here she stood, at the precipice of committing the final act in their plan. She felt no hesitation. She felt no fear. Lilah wasn’t quite sure she could feel much of anything.

“I got it,” she said finally.

And she did—have it.

Looking down, Lilah opened the box, her thumb flicking each of the toggles upwards until red turned green. In the distance, she heard the blades of the helicopter begin the turn. She looked down. Two figures ran for the craft.

“Is that him?” She asked Brasa, knowing that his eyes were infinitely better than hers.

He craned his neck, looking down his nose, “Yes.”

Without thinking, she tapped the comm, “You still alive?”

From across the distance, Benny laughed, “I am. Tell me, is Seth?”

She sneered, “He is.”

“Shame,” Benny replied, unrepentant. Then, with a light, conversational tone, “Hey, McNamara, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again sometimes.”

They wouldn’t.

“Hey, Benny,” she shot back, “looks like you’re on the wrong side of the river.”

Lilah waited a moment more, watching as the two figures climbed inside.

She pressed the button.

The explosion was small—or, perhaps it was only small because she’d seen so many up close not an hour before. From around the helipad, the explosives went off. In a succession of fifteen or so, they obliterated the ground beneath, until it began to crumble in on itself. And then, just for good measure, the helicopter, itself, detonated. Lilah watched until the whole thing fell into the hole the first blast had created, then closed the box and looked to Brasa.

“I want to go home.”

And that’s what they did. They found Seth, Richie, and Kate where they’d left them. Stuffing everyone into the car, they went back to the bar. Lilah was not ashamed to be relieved that the place was still standing. In their absence, the elevator had been fixed. It opened to workers still making repairs, a fine smattering of dust on every surface.

Tired, and half awake, the group filed into the conference room. Seth was laid out on the tabletop. As was his way, Javier was already arranging for food, liquor, and blood to be brought to them. As Lilah moved to sit, Brasa pulled her away from the chair she’d pulled out. With quiet care, he gathered her into his lap, holding her around the waist.

She wasn’t surprised to see Richie doing the same with Kate, though he was watching his brother very closely.

“When will he wake up?” she asked.

“Any minute,” Richie answered, his voice even and sure.

“How do you know?”

“Because Javier is bringing a bottle of shitty bourbon and you know he can’t resist.”

She laughed, some of the feeling coming back to her. Resting against Brasa, she watched as Seth laid on the table, unmoving.  He’d been asleep for so long that she was doubting her decision. Sensing her unease, Brasa ran a hand up her back. Up and down. Calming.

Her shoulders didn’t move from where she’d had them bunched up by her ears until Seth drew that first, ragged breath. The relief coursed through her, tears dotting her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, resting an elbow on the table as leaned forward.

Richie eased Kate to the side, rising. He took a few steps around the table, lifting a hip and sitting not far from Seth’s head.

“Welcome back, brother.”

“Fuck. You.”

Richie laughed, “Glad to see you’re going to still be cranky when you wake up.”

“I died, you asshole.”

“I know. I was there.”

Seth tried to sit up, dropping heavily back down, “Fuck.”

The door to the conference room swung open, Javier pulling a cart in behind him.

Richie smiled, “Breakfast is here.” Then, softer, “You need to feed, Seth.”

Lilah though he would fight, thought he would grumble and pout until the hunger took over. And yet, when Richie held the bag out to him, Seth took it. With ease that could only come from watching someone do it over and over, he tore into the plastic, and drank it down.

Standing hesitantly, Lilah crossed into his field of vision. He drew back from the bag, breathing hard, game face on.

“Hey.”

He swallowed hard, “Hey.”

“You feel ok?”

One shoulder lifted, “For having nearly died, I feel pretty good.”

“Cool.” Then, “You want to steal a Renoir with me later?”

[karajaynetoday]

everybody's got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming | part two

Photo credit: Jess Gleeson

Hello friends! Hope you’re having a lovely day. It’s time for part two of this series! Lizzie takes her opportunity to interview Calum one-on-one in this part. If you need to catch up on Part One, you can do that here. Onwards! 

(This is a fem!OC story)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: none? i don’t think? 

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

The day or so leading up to Lizzie’s one on one interview with Calum was a blur, as Lizzie tried to fix her body clock and orientate herself with how to get around LA. Her boss had offered her the opportunity to hire a rental car, but the idea of driving on the wrong side of the road was too much for Lizzie to stomach, so Ubers were the go. 

Her body sometimes overslept, sometimes woke her up at 4am, so Lizzie had downloaded a yoga and meditation app to try and sort herself out. She might’ve almost given herself a concussion after toppling over while trying to do a particularly tricky pose, but no one needed to hear about that. The bruises on her elbow were embarrassing enough. 

Danielle had sent Lizzie a text the morning of her lunchtime interview with Calum, confirming the time and place as they’d discussed. Lizzie had handwritten some notes for her questions, trying to contemplate what she could ask Calum that would differ to the others. Or maybe she should ask them all the same questions, and then in the piece she could compare and contrast responses? It was so hard to know what would make the best piece, especially with interviewing Calum in particular. Lizzie knew from watching other interviews, and in her group interview with all of the band the other day (and from back in their school days) that Calum was a man of few words. When he did speak, it was usually with purpose and thought, and made for some great content, but he wasn’t always particularly forthcoming. Which is why it had surprised Lizzie that Calum had volunteered for the first solo interview, but given Michael’s behaviour, she was glad to be continuing with the profile piece at all. 

It was a really warm day, so Lizzie had to forego her usual blazer and jeans in favour of a long green dress with blue and white flowers on it. Her hands were sweaty as the Uber pulled up to the café Calum had suggested, and something in the back of Lizzie’s mind suggested it wasn’t just from the weather. She’d always been an anxious person, but she’d gotten a handle on it recently; this whole LA debacle had brought it back with a vengeance. 

Calum was waiting for her just in front of the café, dark wayfarer sunglasses covering his eyes and his phone in his hand as he leant up against the brick wall beside the café door. He was wearing a grey hoodie and jeans, and nobody coming in or out of the café seemed to pay him any attention; but then again maybe people of Calum’s level of fame were just part of the furniture around here. It was near to Hollywood, after all.

“Hey, thanks for agreeing to meet me.” Lizzie’s voice wasn’t overly loud, but it still made Calum jump as he looked up from his phone at her.

“Of course, of course. I know I sound like a broken record, but we really are excited for you to do this piece. The new album era is something I’ve been looking forward to for a while, and - “ Calum began, smiling warmly at Lizzie, who cut him off by pulling open the café door.

“Before you start getting all meaningful and quotable on me, shall we get a coffee and take a seat?” 

“A woman after my own heart. Let’s do it. Pro-tip, the brownies here are to die for.”

The café was bustling, but most of the patrons seemed to be lining up for takeaway orders. Calum stepped ahead of Lizzie and slipped into a booth towards the back, near a frosted window, greeting the wait staff by name as he went. Lizzie scurried after him, apologising as she accidentally bumped into a tall man with her shoulder bag in her haste and he glared at her. Guess not everyone was as friendly as Calum, then. She slid into the booth opposite Calum, pulling out her notebook and phone as she went. 

“Is it okay if I record this? I’m not very good at taking notes.” 

“Straight into it, LL? At least let a man have his coffee first.” Calum deadpanned, and Lizzie felt her face fall before she realised he was joking with her.

“Of course, sorry. Let’s order. The brownies, you said? How big are they?” Lizzie pasted a smile onto her face, grabbing for the menu on the table in front of her.

“I have it on good authority that they’re perfectly Lizzie-sized. Calum-sized, too - a real multipurpose snack.” Calum was teasing her now, but also being completely serious, as he got the attention of a waitperson who came over to welcome them and take their orders. A skinny latté for Lizzie, an iced coffee for Calum, and a warmed up chocolate brownie with a side of coconut yogurt for them each. They fell into easy conversation, about the weather, and Calum’s neighbourhood, and the other pieces Lizzie had written, almost forgetting why they were there in the first place. When their order of coffees and brownies arrived, Lizzie suddenly snapped out of her feeling of ease when she had to push her notebook and phone over on the table and remember that she was supposed to be interviewing Calum Hood, 5SOS bassist, not catching up with Calum Hood, her Year 9 science lab partner. 

“Now that you’ve got your coffee, can I start recording?” Lizzie asked timidly, as she took a bite out of her brownie and audibly groaned at how heavenly it tasted.

“Depends. Will your brownie orgasm be mentioned in the article?” Could Calum say anything that wasn’t teasing her? Damn it.

“Maybe. Perhaps I’ll do a twitter thread of my trip food highlights, given that the profile piece will be under embargo until the album comes out.” Lizzie deadpanned right back, earning a smile and a small chuckle from Calum.

Lizzie hit record on her phone’s voicenote app, sliding the phone into the centre of the table. She flipped open her notebook to the page marked “Calum”, and she could see Calum trying to read her writing upside down.

“No spoilers, mate. I’ve got a strategy here.” Lizzie mused, angling her notebook so it was harder for Calum to see as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Well then, Ms Lawson from Junkee Australia, do your worst.” He flashed her a grin, before taking a sip of his coffee followed by a bite of his brownie (sans any groaning… that must only be a first-time brownie thing).

“So, in our chat yesterday, it was mentioned that this next album is, in some ways, a letter to your homeland, and a reflection on your journeys so far as individual artists as well as being 5SOS collectively. For you, as Calum Hood, what’s the main contribution or perspective that you feel you’ve brought to this album, and the band?” Lizzie saw a flicker of something in Calum’s eyes as she shifted into journalist mode easily, but he only paused for another sip of coffee before answering.

“I think at this point, my main contribution is balancing the collective contributions in the room. I have a lot to say, and I do a lot of songwriting, but I also think the others would agree that I’m also quite observant, so I can read a lot into things they’re saying, or not saying, and bring it out of them into the music. We’ve known each other for almost half our lives at this point, so we know each other better than anyone else, but when we work with other co writers and things like that it can be hard to feel entirely comfortable with the vulnerability you need to bring into writing a song or telling a particular story that day. I’ve got the rep as the strong, silent, shy type, I know - “ Calum paused and returned the soft smile Lizzie was giving him, as she nodded encouragingly. 

“But in interviews, when I’m being asked to explain myself and validate my artistic choices, I’m immediately more defensive and protective of it, because there’s something magical about the writing room, and the vulnerability that can only exist in that context when we’re songwriting, and creating that art. The end product, which is the song or the album or whatever, conveys the emotions in a way that I could never say them with words, and the beautiful thing is that so many people can listen to it and relate to it in ways that I’d never considered before. But that’s the power of it, you know? We make these songs to express ourselves, and fulfil our creative outlets, but it extends beyond that, and that’s the part that gets me.” Calum finished speaking and reached for another sip of his coffee.

“Right. The magic exists in the studio, and on the stage, and in individual people’s lives when they listen to the music wherever they are in the world, and it’s the connecting thread that brings you together with your fans, a moment that you can share even if you never meet.”

“Exactly, it’s the universal experience, and everyone has their own interpretation of what it means to them. Pisses me off when people try and dig to find out who we wrote a certain song about, or whatever. Sometimes it is a specific person or a moment, other times I make shit up to suit the vibe of a chord progression or a concept someone’s brought to the table. It’s a juicier headline if we name and shame, but it’s not fair to the person I’m writing about, especially if they don’t have a similar outlet for a right of reply, and it’s also irrelevant, because my meaning behind a song could be completely different to yours, but that doesn’t make it less valid.” Calum shrugs as he speaks, his tone calm and nonchalant. 

“Makes sense. The music can exist as art, and be open to interpretation, like everything in life. And with this album, and reflecting on your homeland… what does that mean, for you? Because 5SOS have lived almost their entire adult lives overseas, so I know it must be hard to self-determine a cultural identity that’s so strongly linked to somewhere you haven’t lived for so long.” Lizzie asks, munching down another bite of brownie.

Calum cocks his head to the side and rolls his bottom lip into his mouth, and Lizzie feels a lump rise in her throat. Had she phrased the question wrong? Was he mad? Had she struck a nerve? Fuck. 

“Sorry, we don’t have to - I mean, we can keep discussing the album in a different way if you’d prefer -” Lizzie started babbling, and she froze when Calum reached across the table and rested on hers reassuringly. 

“Breathe, Lawson. I just need a minute to think about a deep and meaningful response to your question. You’re fine.” Calum was speaking softly, and there was an apology of sorts in his eyes when Lizzie glanced over at him. She was about to ask him something else, when a waitress came over to check on how everything was going with their orders and offered a second round of coffees and Calum withdrew his hand from the table as he ordered another iced coffee to go, times two. 

“If you could have it ready to go in about an hour, that’d be great.” Calum flashed the waitress a smile, and she shot him a wink as she headed back to the counter to update his order.

“A whole ‘nother hour? You spoil me, Mr Hood.” Lizzie joked, downing the last of her coffee and desperately hoping to avoid any awkwardness in her remaining interview time with Calum. 

“Anything for a fellow Australian, mate. To answer your question, it’s strange, because yes I’ve never lived there full time as an adult, but there’s something about your home country and your hometown that stays with you, no matter where you go or how long you’re gone. Obviously, for me, my sister lives overseas, and neither of my parents were raised in Australia, but it still means a lot to me, because it’s home, you know? The industry there is… interesting, but I still think that if we didn’t have the background we all have as individuals and the band, there’s certainly a lot of decisions we’ve made and ways we’ve gone about things in our careers that are heavily influenced by our upbringings and the mindsets we all have from that experience.” 

“Home is where the heart is, right?” Lizzie offers, thumbing her notebook absently. 

“It’s true. But it’s also refreshing to go back and escape it all a bit, you know? None of my friends at home really give a shit about Calum from 5SOS. They just like hanging out with Cal, which is nice.” Calum shrugs, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him.

“Just Cal? Not cool guy Cal? C Dizzle Swizzle?” Lizzie bit back a grin, remembering the multitude of nicknames Cal had garnered over the years.

“Look, cool guy Cal is just my constant state of being. C Dizzle might make an appearance if I’ve had one too many, but either way, they’re just happy to see me. Or happy to tell me some home truths that I haven’t heard, or wanted to hear, so that’s important too. You can’t live in LA for as long as we have without having a good support crew to keep us grounded, you know? Even if some of the ones who mean the most to us are on the other side of the planet.” There was something in Calum’s eyes again as Lizzie looked at him, and she could tell it was more than what he was trying to say for the sake of the profile interview. 

She swallowed down one final bite of the heavenly brownie, and turned the page to find her next question. Lizzie couldn’t entertain the idea of asking Calum why Michael was mad at her, because it would break the air of professionalism she was desperate to maintain; also, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d even tell her. Calum and Michael had been inseparable in their school days, and Lizzie knew that their bond and sense of loyalty no doubt ran even deeper now than then, given all of their shared experiences, trials and tribulations to date. But Calum had always been so kind and patient with her, whether she’d accidentally ruined their Year 9 science experiment, or she’d nearly thrown up on his shoes at the Year 11 formal after party, or when Michael had stormed out of the studio a few days ago and he offered her his time for the first solo interview. Lizzie brushed off the train of thought, and continued with her interview questions for Calum.

The conversation flowed easily, and Lizzie could already feel the profile starting to come together in her mind. She jotted down a handful of notes on how to adapt her questions for Luke and Ashton based on Calum’s responses, and before they realised how long they’d been chatting, the waitress returned with Calum’s two takeaway iced coffees. 

Lizzie asked the waitress for the bill, but Calum waved her off. 

“I’ve got it, Lizzie. Don’t stress.” 

“But I can expense it! I have a receipts app, and everything!” Calum laughed at how excited Lizzie seemed at the concept of submitting a work expense claim.

“Okay, fine. You win this round.” 

Lizzie pressed stop on her phone recording, and reached for her bag to slide her notebook in. The waitress returned with the bill, and Lizzie handed her travel bank card over, drumming her hands absentmindedly on the table while she waited for the waitress to come back with her card and the receipt. 

“Lizzie?” Her head snapped up as Calum spoke. 

“He’s not… I know it seems like he’s really mad at you, but he’s not.” It took a moment for Lizzie to register what Calum was saying.

“He’s not mad at me? He refused to speak to me and stormed out of the room the first chance he got, but he’s not mad? Right.” Lizzie couldn’t help but sound bitter as she spoke.

“I can’t speak for him, but I know him. He’s not mad, he’s just hurt about everything.” Lizzie could tell Calum was being very careful with his choice of words, and she eyed him curiously across the table.

“What does he possibly have to be hurt about? He’s the one that -” Lizzie catches herself halfway through her sentence, and squeezes her eyes shut as she inhales deeply.

“Here’s your receipt and your card back, miss. Thanks so much for visiting us today, have a lovely day!” Lizzie blinks and squints up at the waitress, who hands back her card and a paper receipt. Lizzie mumbles her thanks, and goes to stand up and slide out of the booth, and Calum follows her out of the café.

“Lizzie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” Calum’s apologetic tone had Lizzie spinning on her heel to face him once they’re through the doors of the café. 

“You didn’t, Calum. It’s fine. I’m here to do a job, and I appreciate your time today, I really do. Michael and I… I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, okay? I know it won’t be easy, but for now, I just want to focus on getting the best interview content I can from you all. That’s why I’m here.” Lizzie wrings her hands nervously, and she can feel how sweaty her palms are.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?” Calum’s tone isn’t teasing, or harsh. It’s genuine, curious, soft. He’s not moving as he stands in front of Lizzie and gazes down at her from his full height. 

Before Lizzie can answer, Calum’s phone starts to ring, and he casts her another glance before stepping away to answer it. While he’s chatting to whoever’s on the other end of the line, Lizzie decides to order herself an Uber and make her way back to the hotel so she can make a start on transcribing the interview with Calum. Because that was why she was here, Lizzie told herself in her head, stubbornly. Didn’t matter about the feelings in her stomach, and the tightness of her chest. She was there to write a profile about a band, nothing more, nothing less. 

“I’ve got to go and meet Ash at the studio, are you all good from here?” Calum’s question broke Lizzie out of her internal dialogue. 

“Yep, all good. Thanks again for your time, Cal. I really appreciate it. I think it’s going to be a great piece, and I’m intrigued to see what comes out of the other interviews. All of them.” Lizzie’s pointed tone isn’t lost on Calum, and he grimaces slightly at the fire he seems to have ignited. Ah well. Lizzie and Michael had to sort their shit out sooner or later, right?

Right? 

Calum was trying to convince himself as he strolled down the street towards his car, pondering if he’d made things better or worse between Michael, his best mate through almost his entire life, and Lizzie, the girl that he’d been sure Michael would love forever, but had walked away from in a shadow of hurt, betrayal, and disbelief. The girl that apparently had no idea Michael felt that way, or that if he did, it wasn’t justified. Someone’s side of the story just wasn’t adding up, but Calum wasn’t sure whose it was. Not anymore.

Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is!  @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon​ @wheniminouterspace​

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Full Moon Dance

Word Count: 2700+ (chapter 1) (chapter 2) [AO3 link]

Genre: Humor/Romance

Characters: Raven Branwen, Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Taiyang Xiao Long, Kite Branwen (OC, mentioned)

Pairing: Raven Branwen/Summer Rose

Summary: Misunderstanding what "taking a partner" is supposed to entail, Raven asks Summer to the Vytal Festival Dance.She did not expect that to become a gateway to facing her changing feelings for her teammates and her place at Beacon.

(I meant to have this posted for the free day of @rose-bird-week but missed the mark by a few days)

~0~

“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.”

Vera Nazarian

~0~

Culture shock was a phrase that Raven had grown to truly detest by the end of her first year at Beacon. Navigating the obstacle course that was non-tribe society seemed to trip her and Qrow up at every turn, even as constantly helpful as Summer tried to be. 

(Considering how funny Tai found them sometimes, she would hesitate to fully include him in the “helpful” category.) 

When they’d gone back home to the tribe for their break, Kite had insisted on several nights where the three of them took dinner and drinks alone in her tent, so she could squeeze her twins for every last detail of their new school lives. Which Raven supposed she understood, coming from their leader who they’d never been apart from for so long, but she could have done without quite that much raucous laughter at their missteps. 

But by the time they got into the swing of second year, Raven thought that they had fully gotten the hang of this whole “living in the real world” thing, as Qrow was given to calling it. So when on the way back from class she started to hear the strains of an animated conversation, she didn’t think she would need to ask about exactly what was being discussed.

“...what everyone does,” Tai was saying. “Just don’t think so hard about it!”

Their backs were to her as they walked in the direction of their dorm room, so she couldn’t see Qrow’s face. But she could see him slowly nodding, and could picture the look of deep contemplation that probably accompanied it. This must be serious business.

“But I’ve got no idea what to do! We don’t have these things in Anima!”

“...No offense, but you guys don’t really have that much in Anima, do you?”

“You’re just catching on to that? And, I mean, I guess we do, but it’s not like it’s a fun party. What’s even the point of this dance thing?”

Recognition sparked in Raven’s head. Of course it was that.

Her primary interest in the Vytal Festival was combat, of course. The two of them hadn’t effortlessly crushed all competition Beacon had to offer, all the time, the way she’d expected coming in. But it was close enough that they were hungering for new opponents to test their strength, as were their teammates, so the influx of new students coming in for the tournament had her very excited. 

(Bloodthirsty, Qrow called the gleam in her eye, but she thought that was a bit too strong a word.)

She was determined not to make any more accidental friends — two was quite enough! — so the idea of wasting so much time fraternizing had not caught her interest at all. It was nothing like the occasional, informal bonfires of the Mistrali and Animan bandit tribes, where in the dark hours of uneasy peace, agreements and alliances could be brokered, and the future heirs of the kingdom’s underworld could get a feel for each other.

In any case, Qrow had not participated in one since he was thirteen and a large tree branch had fallen on Eiric Athdara while they’d been trying awkwardly to dance together. He’d blamed his Semblance and spent the next four years’ worth of bonfires sulking in the shadows, much to the confusion of everyone who had found him appealing and the exasperation of Kite. With all their positions here only temporary, Raven still wasn’t clear about the purpose of this event, and was interested in Tai’s explanation.

“Well, it’s fun!”

She resisted the urge to groan.

But she could hear the smile in Tai’s voice as he rambled on. “Remember that birthday party we threw you two? It’s even better than that, because nobody’s expecting anything of you, because you’re not the center of attention. You can do whatever you like—”

Oh, yeah? thought Raven with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Oh, yeah?” leered Qrow, wagging his, and earning himself a punch in the shoulder from his partner. 

“You know what I mean, Qrow, good gods. Anyway, it’s just about having fun. You don’t even have to know how to dance, or wear anything super fancy. The important part is the people you’re with.”

“Well, sure. But I don’t know if there’s anybody else I’d want to take with me. Though everyone else gets so upset when I say no, I oughta just say yes to the next one who asks. Let them tag along.”

Raven didn’t know why he sounded so despondent about it. Warning would-be suitors away with her ever-improving sword was something she’d been doing since her first weeks here without a second thought. She still wasn’t sure why their numbers had increased the closer this dance got, but it made no difference to her.

“Oh, come on, you don’t need to do that!” Tai threw his arm around Qrow’s shoulders, grinning. “You’re going to have a great partner to get you through it!”

Raven blinked. This was news to her. You were supposed to go with your partner? Making arrangements with someone else was some sort of exception? Well, this was just getting more confusing by the day, but she could work with it. 

“That’ll be fine, then,” she said out loud, making the boys jump and whip around so fast they knocked their heads together doing it.

“Ow! Raven, what the hell?!” Qrow shouted, as if she personally had whacked him upside the head. 

Tai looked only mildly surprised. “You should have said something if you wanted to join in.”

“No need,” Raven replied, with a small toss of her head. “I’ve already figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” 

The three of them looked up towards a nearby staircase to see Summer trotting down it, looking interested in whatever fragments of conversation she’d heard. 

Raven looked back at her curiously: if this was the custom around here, why hadn’t Summer said anything to her about it? She gathered that Summer too had been raised outside the kingdoms, from what little she was willing to say about her background, but she’d lived in Vale long enough to know about things like this. Well, no matter, she was making up for it now.

“Hey, Summer!” she called up. “You’re going to the dance with me, aren’t you?”

She hadn’t expected a simple question to make the hallway go silent, but it did. Summer blinked, staring open-mouthed at her for a long moment. Then her face lit up, and she let out an almost exhilarated laugh.

“Sure, of course I will!” 

The delight in her voice startled Raven somewhat, but she recovered quickly. “All right, then.”

By now, she was used to being carried away on Summer’s zest for life. But Raven found the way she nearly flew down the rest of the stairs to grab both of Raven’s hands in hers, smiling so brightly, to be unusual even for her. Shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Or was Raven supposed to be the one to make the first move all along, for some reason, and Summer was just excited that she was finally getting with the program? 

Being landed with her partner in the first place had been so damned convoluted that this might as well happen (and she hoped this wouldn’t also involve Summer falling on top of her head from an ungodly high place). Still, she wondered whether it really called for Summer nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet like she’d just been told Solstice had come early. 

“I’m so glad you told me when you did! I was going to just rent one of the basic white dresses, but now I know for sure we’re both going I’ll look for nicer ones — and I can do your hair! I’ll pick something out, just give me a little bit!”

With that, Summer disappeared back up the stairs in a flash of white cloak. Raven had a brief and blissful moment of thinking she had successfully navigated the situation, until she turned to see Tai and Qrow’s jaws both nearly on the floor. 

“What?”

“W-Well...” Tai was the first to find his voice again. “We just...didn’t expect you to ask her out, out of the blue, is all.”

Raven raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Aren’t you supposed to go to this thing with your partner?”

Both boys’ mouths became perfect O’s of realization. They looked at each other, and then back at her. 

“Oh,” said Qrow. “Uh, Raven, we should probably talk about something...”

~0~

There was no way she could let Kite hear about this.

Raven didn’t think her cheeks would ever stop burning. Not even the cooling late afternoon air helped. At least nobody could easily spot her here. 

Usually, when she screwed up some Valerian social norm or another, she was able to either brush it off or bluff well enough that it didn’t look like a screwup at all. And even if neither of those worked, she was much better at intimidating people into silence about it than her brother. Absolutely none of those methods would work here. 

Logically, she knew that Summer wasn’t the petty or easily embarrassed type. Still, the thought of finding her and admitting to her mistake...gods, how could she have been so dumb? She didn’t want to imagine the disappointment on Summer’s face the next time she—

“Raven! Hey, Raven? Could, uh...could I come up there with you?”

Raven startled, and glanced down to see Summer hanging out over the windowsill, peering up at her. Perhaps the tree directly outside their dorm room hadn’t been the best place to flee to if she wanted to remain undiscovered. 

“...Sure. If you can climb.”

Uncannily squirrel-like, Summer hopped out the window onto the trunk, and scurried up several feet of tree to reach the branch that Raven had taken up residence on. Scooting over slightly to give her room to sit, Raven noticed that she wasn’t just eager to help: she looked a little abashed as well, a look that only became more pronounced in the short silence that followed.

“So...” Summer rubbed the back of her head, mussing her braids. “I talked to Tai and Qrow and I...think I owe you an apology.”

“You do? Why?”

“Well, I misunderstood. I made a bunch of assumptions and...” Summer gestured to the branches around them. “Scared you up a tree.”

“Hmph. Scared is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?”

“I guess. But still: I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

Raven sighed. “I was the one who acted without thinking. You don’t have to worry about it.”

To her relief, Summer didn’t look to be worried anymore...but she did look thoughtful. “So...what would you have done if you’d asked and I didn’t want to go with you? Hypothetically, I mean?”

It did not take Raven long to hit upon the answer. “Hid somewhere better than this and avoided you until it was all over.”

Summer laughed, but Raven wondered if that was concern in her eyes. “You know that’s not a very good way to handle your feelings, right?”

“Well, it’s best to go with your gut on these things,” Raven huffed. “Honestly, I’d rather just skip all this dance nonsense and get to the part where we thrash everyone else in the arena. No messing around, just winning.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be great!”

She had expected Summer to agree with her: she wasn’t fiercely competitive like her or Tai, but everybody liked to win. However, by now she knew her partner well enough to tell that, though her smile was impeccable, her response was just a bit too enthusiastic to be honest.

Determined not to miss anything this time, Raven spent a long moment studying the other girl’s face, replaying their conversation in her head to — hey, wait a minute. 

Summer blinked. “Raven? Why are you looking at me all suspicious?”

“...Before, when you said ‘hypothetically,’ how did you mean it? As in, hypothetically, what would I have done...or if you hypothetically didn’t want to go?”

“I...well...the second one,” she murmured.

Ah. She’d been so worried about her own stung pride that she had forgotten all about how excited Summer had been. So that was that.

“I mean, of course you can still go. I’m not going to stop you.”

“I was always planning on it. I’ve never been to anything like this before, either. But...” Raven very nearly jumped when she felt Summer’s hand slide on top of hers, her palm so soft it always surprised her. “I was really hoping we could go together.”

“Like as a team, or...?”

Summer didn’t laugh, just gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “With you.”

Oh. 

All of a sudden the shapes of the clouds in the distance were very, very interesting. 

“You...you like to dance, then?”

“My parents used to. My dad, especially.” The smile in Summer’s voice was wholly genuine this time, if wistful with nostalgia. “He’d always coax my father into it, outside when the moon was full. My father would grumble about it, pretend he wasn’t sappy enough to love it. But he was, every time. I could tell.”

Raven wasn’t sure what was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up: Summer’s thumb idly rubbing against her hand, the strangely melodic tone of her voice, or the vague and discomfiting sense, that hit every time Summer let them hear something about her life before Beacon, that she was close to a secret. 

All any of them really knew about it was that Summer had once had fathers, and now did not. Raven of all people didn’t want to instigate any digging into their team’s secrets. Kite wasn’t her mother, but for these purposes...

“My mom didn’t do any of that stuff. I don’t know how to dance, either.”

“We can learn together, then.”

Wow, those clouds. Definitely more deserving of attention than her rapidly pounding heart. 

“Raven? Would you like that?”

For a good few moments, Raven wasn’t sure she would be able to answer. When she finally did, it was in a voice much lower and quieter than she had expected. At least it was steady.

“...Yes. Yeah, I think I would.”

“Then we will. I promise.”

She nearly fell backwards off the tree branch, when she felt the feather-light touch of Summer’s lips on her cheek. They were only there for the most fleeting of seconds, making her almost wonder if she’d been wrong...but no,  she couldn’t possibly mistake it for anything else, and finally turned to stare at her partner.

Color. When Raven looked back on this moment years, even decades later, it would be all of its colors that lingered the most in her memory. The faint pink that painted Summer’s cheeks, the softer shade of her lips. The perfectly clear blue sky behind her head, that made the deep red ends of her hair stand out like fire against it. And the silver moonlight of her eyes — it occurred to Raven for the first time that she had never seen anything quite like them — that shone just as brightly as her smile.

Something twisted in her chest, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She felt sure that Kite would smirk at it, though. 

Remember what you’re here for, Raven, she would remind her. She’s not really your partner. She’s your victim. 

Normally, she submitted to the voice of her leader, like any loyal Branwen. Today...she did not push it aside, exactly. But she could wait a little while to heed it, and push her luck just a bit more today.

“On second thought...I’d be honored to escort you, Summer,” she said, lifting her head a little higher and affecting the tone that Kite took with other tribe leaders. “So long as you can promise you won’t let me make such a fool of myself again.”

Summer giggled, clearly relieved. “I promise that too! I’ll make sure of it.”

“You know, with Tai and Qrow there to soak up all the attention, that’ll probably be easier than you think.”

“Well, maybe. Let’s give them some credit. And I can’t promise that you won’t get any attention. I still get to take you dress shopping and do your hair, don’t I?”

“...You keep saying that,” Raven said dubiously, “but when you say do...what exactly are you picturing?”

“One day...” Summer reached out again and ran her fingers through the back of Raven’s hair, where they promptly got stuck around the middle of her neck. “One day this won’t happen.”

She tugged a little to emphasize the point, but not hard enough to hurt. Raven was certainly in no hurry to have her remove her hand. 

“Actually, if you want, we could climb down and start trying stuff out now. See what styles you like?”

“Sure. Just...not right now.” The breeze was blowing gently in their faces, and Raven couldn’t quite place the scent that it carried to them, only that it was clean and sweet and she liked it. “Mind if we hang out up here for a while? It’s nice out.”

In answer, Summer leaned over and rested her head on Raven’s shoulder. “Yeah. It is.”

The birds had flown off, and the clouds thinned out, leaving only the perfect sky behind. Raven couldn’t seem to remember the last time she’d felt so very relaxed. Had she really been so furious with herself just a few minutes ago?

This really was good. She found herself wanting more. Perhaps this dance was something to look forward to after all.

[mirror-juliet]

~Searching For Soulmates~ Park Seonghwa X Male Reader

Requested by Jax on tumblr.

Since there isn't a lot of male readers that read my things (To my knowlege) I decided to make this one special by using Jax's name, the one who requested this. I hope you enjoy it bub.

Tagging: @themainineveruse @atinybrew @vocalyunho @hongjoongs-hoe​

Love story's are so over-written these days. So hard to write about. They say write the unexpected, but everyone's already done the unexpected. If you write it wrong, nothing will become of it. If you excel in writing the impossible-you are praised beyond belief. Unexpected love story's are impossible. Most story's are Frankensteins of other stories, stitched together by a dream and desperation. But the well known authors dreamt those dreams before you could write them. You'd just be copying them if you made a story close to the lines of theirs, if the two characters hate eachother, or if they don't know eachother. Who's to say you didn't dream those dreams first, And why wont the world let you dream those dreams more than once. Aren't dreams supposed to be eternal. An extension of our thoughts, how can someones thoughts be wrong. There is no right way to think, it isn't a math formula with a set outcome. So why have people decided that we must think in a set algorithm?

The world's too busy thinking about their own love theory to worry about a simple love story written for a college literature class. Only the teacher would read it, so why's Jaxson stressing about it so much? There are set outcomes to what grade he'll get so it doesn't really matter how he writes the report.

"Here's your Pomegranate potion, Weirdo. You come to a coffee shop and order tea." Maggie, Jaxon's favorite barista and best friend since they were younger ruffles his hair. "You're the one who dragged me here today. I could have finished my report at home."

"There was no way i was going to let you stay cooped up in that apartment one more day. It's a lovely atmosphere here," She's not wrong about the atmosphere, it has the right amount of teenager swag mixed with an almost professional look. "Plus if you get bored you can entertain yourself by watching me train the new guy." Jaxson pays close attention to Maggie now

"That's today?.. And you are going to be the one to train him? Lord help this shop now." Maggie attempts to wack Jaxson upside the head, but he's too fast for her tiny fist of rage "That isn't funny Jax. I'm a good trainer, After all i was trained by the glorious booknerd that is you." She bows and holds her hand out gesturing to him. The boy wonders why he's friends with such a weirdo in the first place, but he supposes it's because he acts just like her. "What was he like, the new guy. Do you know?"

"You could always ask me what i'm like, pretty boy." Jaxson freezes in place, fear painting him as he watches Maggie wear the most shit-eating grin of the century. "Seonghwa, it's nice to see you again. This is Jax, he's off today but he's one of the workers here. Jax meet Seonghwa." Jaxson turns to greet Seonghwa, But holy God's why did he have to call him pretty boy? He's the pretty boy for gods sake! "You were talking up a storm just a moment ago, what happened; Cat got your tongue?" Curse him for having such a beautiful face because Jaxson does nothing but stare and hold his mouth agape! Seonghwa chuckles and goes behind the counter next to Maggie. "When do i start coach?"

Jesus his smile is pretty and he knows it. Jaxson watches him roll up his sleeves into uniform cuffs, his forearms are way too toned for his good, his tan skin extenuates them so much. Despite how good looking he is, he is quite clumsy with the espresso machine. It's expected since he explained to Maggie "I don't like bitter things so I've never used one of these." He has coffee grinds all over his apron and at the bottom of his white shirt. Jaxson had given up working on his report to examine Seonghwha and his arms. Both of them were covered in tattoo's, he cant help but wonder if one of them are perhaps his soul-mark he tries to hide in the cluster of ink. Maggie never tried to hide her mark, though it did look quite odd to only have the veins of butterfly wings on her cheek. Her soulmate, Yeosang did try to cover his up. It looked like 'an unattractive pink blob' in his opinion. Though, Maggie thought it looked cute in pictures, when they kissed for the first time, their marks melded into one. Now Maggie spends most of her weekends looking for Jaxson's soulmate even though he's made it very obvious he doesn't want to find them. After searching forever, he got tired and was convinced that his soulmate had either not existed or died before he had ever met them.

"Seonghwa you'll be okay, i'm just leaving you to make some of these for lunch hour. You're doing much better than an hour ago." Maggie sings sweet words to Seonghwa who seems to be shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I don't think i should make anything for anyone to consume."

"Okay, make Jaxson something and then prove me wrong. If he decides it's too horrible then he'll take your place for the day and we'll train you more."

"Why do you have to drag me into this?" Jaxson groans, he was enjoying his day off-well, not really; But Maggie doesn't know that! Then again, she probably does given the knowing look on her face. After a few minutes of a silent stare match between the two he gives in. "Make me an iced americano." The tan color leaves Seonghwa's face as Maggie leans against the counter, leaving him all alone with the coffee maker and his wits (Which arent a lot when it comes to the machine). His toned arms are clumsy with everything, making a much bigger mess than needed, Jaxson could have sworn everytime something got dirty Seonghwa cringed. After five minutes of entertainment Seonghwa Shakily sets the drink in front of Jaxson. "Whats wrong newbie, see a ghost?" Seonghwa glares at that, upset his own joke was used against him. In retaliation he mutters something under his breath that Maggie nor Jax can quite make out.

He takes the drink and puts it to his lips, only having it on his tastebuds for mm, less than two seconds before spitting it back in the cup. He wipes his mouth and grabs his things. "I'll be back out in a minute. Don't let him near customers." Seonghwa watches Jaxson walk into the employees lounge and come back out in uniform, buttoning his sleeves up and shoving his way behind the bar. "I want you to clear off tables, you'll have to move fast because this place gets packed in about fifteen minutes." But Seonghwa isn't moving, Only staring down at the shorter male. "What?" Jax's getting impatient as he's wasting time standing around when he could be preparing for the forty people he's going to have to deal with for the next two hours.

"Can i take you on a date?" Maggie drops the cup she's holding, hot espresso now on her new martins, the only thing saving her from burns. "What?" Is all Jaxson says because Seonghwa's hot! This is a manga scenario that only happens every blood moon, no love story has ever prepared him for this moment because any situation in a manga would never be accepted by society. And what't the point? Whats the point of dating someone that isn't your soulmate? "Go clean tables please."

The three of them don't talk about the situation the rest of the day, only trading words to explain an order or if they need to wash more mugs. But they do watch eachother. Seonghwa watches Jaxson make coffee and tea at an alarming rate, Jaxson watches Seonghwa clean tables with so much care; never leaving a cup ring. And Maggie watches the tension in the room between the two grow it's like candy burning to the side of a pot. Sickening but sweet. At the end of lunch rush, it's nearly time for the quaint little coffee shop to close it's eyes for a good night's rest. You think for how many people visit it, it would stay open longer than Three pm.

Yeosang came to pick up Maggie for their date night leaving Jaxson to close at the shop. That isn't the plan tonight because for the love of Hade's Jaxson cant figure out why the manager decided to hire Seonghwa other than his looks. Every drink he's had Seonghwa make in the past thirty minutes he has managed to burn or fuck up magically somehow. "Why is making coffee so hard?" The tall man groans out, backing against the counter away from the machine. "It really isn't. You've just added way too many steps to it. Here hang on." Jaxson grabs a fresh cup and starts up the machine once again. The poor thing might be overused by tomorrow.

It's crazy how simple Jaxson makes it look to Seonghwa, not only that but how elegant he is while doing it. His fingers flip switches effortlessly, pouring the milk into a beautiful leaf shape he's convinced the shorter man shouldn't be able to make. But he almost does it with his eyes closed. Seonghwa should be able to make designs like that- "What?" He says, realizing Jaxson must have asked him a question given the quizzical look on his face.

Jaxson's laugh is pretty, Seonghwa decides. It's just the right amount of baritone with the ever so slightest bit of soprano. "I'm telling you to take the coffee so you can see what it's supposed to taste like."

"Aren't we supposed to be teaching me how to make this instead of drink it?" Jax jumps to sit on the counter, taking his own teacup in his hands. "I needed a break and the machine is making sad noises, so here we are. Go on, taste perfection." Jaxson's cocky words brink an obnoxious smirk to the older's lips. Because there's no way his coffee is that good.

But it is

Seonghwa isn't one for bitter taste, hell he doesn't like coffee. But the cup Jaxson handed to him it seems he's refusing to put down. "Woah, woah. You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache." Said boy causing concern hops down to drag the cup away from him. "I'm sorry, i didn't think you had to drink it slow." A pinkish hue covers Seonghwa's neck. "I don't like coffee usually...." He trails off.

"Seonghwa." Jaxson's voice is gentle, Seonghwa wonders if he's gotten sad somehow. "Why are you working here? You don't like Coffee and you absolutely suck dick at making it. So why?" Jax hops on the counter once again and Seonghwa has to avert his eyes from the smaller male, intrusive thoughts invading his head. He shakes his head hoping to get rid of the thought like an etch and sketch. Anywhere but his eyes is better, does he not think before talking? Seonghwa thinks. "I, like most people in the world need money. This quaint little coffee shop so happened to be the only one hiring. So i had to get it before i ran out of money for rent. Why are you working here?" A question for a question, fair enough right? "I like the aesthetic of this place, it's calming to me. And it pays fairly well." The two sit in silence, sipping their respective drinks, only sharing glances at one another.

"Say whats on your mind pretty boy, You've been looking at me with a question in your eyes." Seonghwa smirks, only making Jaxson blush harder from the nickname. God he wished Seonghwa would use a different name. "Sorry. I was just wondering where you used to work before here. "

"I worked in a tattoo shop." He crosses his arms, the drink from before long since drained. "It was a pretty good gig too, i was the only apprentice that was allowed to work on people, plus i got half off tattoo's...if i let them do it drunk." Seonghwa looks up into the air, a meloncholy smile on his face. "It was the best job of my life."

"Can i ask you another question, if you don't mind." He lets out an approving sound, not bothering to look down. "If you were so happy....Why leave?" Jax realizes he's touched a soft spot when Seonghwa looks back at him, his eyes are hurting, hidden behind a small smile. "Aren't you just a nosy little one." He takes a deep breath "The old man that owned the shop passed, it was taken over by his daughter. She decided to turn it into a hair salon, kicking everyone that worked there out of a job. It was quite selfish of her, don't you think?"

Jaxson nods his head, wondering what it must have felt like to suddenly loose a friend and a means of living. Suddenly the cup of cold tea is more intriguing than the saddened face of Seonghwa. "My turn~" Said man sings out, tipping Jaxson's head up with his finger. "When can i take you out on a date?"

"O-oh, you were serious about that......."

"Why wouldn't i be?" Jax pulls away from him, hopping down to begin cleaning dishes. "Because i don't like dates." Seonghwa takes the cup out of his hand. "So, don't think of it as a date. Think it as if were just a couple of friends hanging out for an afternoon." A sarcastic chuckle leaves Jax's lips. "But it's still a date."

"Will you at least give it a shot? If you don't enjoy yourself in the first fifteen minutes i'll even take you home." Both of them stop movement, Jaxson wondering why Seonghwa is so hellbent on getting him to go on a date. "Fine. Only fifteen minutes, where will you be taking me?" Jax snatches the mug back from Seonghwa. "That." He pokes Jaxson's nose "Is for me to know and you to find out, tomorrow at two?"

"If you mean a.m. then hell no."

***********

Seonghwa had in fact not meant two am, but precisely when the autumn's sun hits Jaxson's glasses just right to blind him. Where even was Seonghwa? He had told Jaxson to meet him in front of the Cafe five minutes early just in case he got there before.

He hadn't.

He hadn't shown up the first five minutes after the intended meet time. Where the hell was he? Turning the corner onto the Cafe street, the loud motorcycle that was annoying Jax approached in front of the Cafe. Only once the rider pulled off his helmet did he realize Seonghwa was the knight under the mask. A knight wearing a leather jacket to reveal a blue floral shirt tucked into black skinny jeans with no chains this time. Instead he's swapped them out for makeup smudged onto his face, making him seem even more attractive than he already is. "You expect me to get on that? Wearing this." He motions to his outfit, denim jeans, a striped sweater and sneakers. Obviously not appropriate apparel for a Motorcycle. "You'll be fine pretty boy. Hop on." Seonghwa pats the seat behind him, pulling out a second helmet. "The five minutes i spent waiting count against your time."

"The ride doesn't though, Deal?"

Jaxson wishes the ride would have counted against Seonghwa, they've been driving for the past thirty minutes on the highway. He swears Seonghwa's speeding on purpose for Jax to have to cling onto his torso so the small boy wouldn't fly off the bike. Once the bike ride was finally starting to be bearable, it stops. "We here?" A chuckle from Seonghwa. "Do you think i stopped here for gas?" It's an aquarium, It could be worse, it could be a movie theater. "C'mon, i wanna show you a lot here."

A lot he did show Jaxson, from river bass to sharks in a dive tank. He even payed for the extra experiences like holding hermit crabs or feeding the sea turtle from a pole. Jaxson has to admit, he is having fun; he didn't leave two hours ago when the fifteen minutes were up. "Oh, c'mon we're at the touch tank!" Seonghwa Pulls Jaxson through sliding doors to a room with quite a large touch tank in the middle. In it are stingrays of all sizes. He leaves momentarily to come back with two small cups of something foul smelling. "We can feed them by hand." Seonghwa hands the cup of sardines to Jaxson, not waiting for him to grab one before taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. "Just put it between your knuckles, their teeth are on their bellies so don't be afraid."

Easy for him to say as he seems to have no fear towards the slimy sea pancakes, his arm is already submerged past his elbow, getting his rolled up sleeve wet. "This big one i named Calvin. Say hi Calvin." The large stingray swims on the bottom to take the fish from his human friend. He even lets Seonghwa give him rubs and pit pats. It's quite cute to see him acting so young and happy. "Well go on, the worst that can happen is one of them tickle you."

Jaxson mustered up the courage to roll up his sleeves, only dipping his hand about forearm deep. Shortly a small sea pancake fly's over and goes straight for the fish. Thanking the boy by flapping his wings against his arm. More cute giggles coming from Seonghwa. The more fish he goes through, Jaxon finds himself moving closer and closer to Seonghwa. Eventually the two are brushing hands, Seonghwa startles him by grabbing ahold of it. "If you wanted to hold hands you could have asked." He smiles, not one of shitery or mockery. But a genuine smile, directed at Jaxson.

A warm tingle pricks both of their arms, on the verge of being hot. "Look." Jaxson points to their interlocked arms. A white snake being engraved into the knot of his black snake. The opposite of Seonghwa. He freaks out and pulls his arm out of the water to inspect the new tattoo. "Wha-"

"Mommy Mommy look! They got their soul-mark!" A little girl bounces next to them, pulling on her mother's arm. "Is that what this is?"

"It looks like it." Seonghwa hands a paper towel to the smaller of them. "Wanna go get dinner?" It took some convincing but Jax finally agreed to go to dinner, there they talked about what it meant, and how Jaxson could have possibly missed the white snake in the cluster of Seonghwa's tattoo's. It is the only white tattoo he has after all.

A/N: This feels kinda bad compared to my other works but my friend who read it over says it quite nice. (They prefer to remain anon) Jax bub i hope you liked this. I had some troubles making it but i think it's okay. Remember to like and reblog if you're reading this on tumlr

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 15: Cards on the Table

((Having just heard a gunshot in the house, the attorney and Damien rush inside to find the Colonel and Abe with guns drawn. Their argument is cut short with the arrival of someone who wasn’t invited to the party.

Only warnings for this part are for some light swearing.

Link to the previous, Part 14: The Whole Trust Thing.))

Damien paused at the door and looked back at you, but you didn’t slow down any more than it took to wrench the door open and walk not into the living room that you expected but instead into a sitting room you had never noticed despite apparently being just off the foyer. Either that made you pause or, perhaps, it was sight of Abe and the Colonel with their guns pointed at each other as though both were itching for an excuse to shoot.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you better lower your weapon, murderer!” Abe shouted at the Colonel, whose next words were almost drowned out by the thunder outside.

“I bloody well won’t, you’re the one that assaulted me! For all I know, you could be the murderer!”

The Chef entered the room at a run alongside yet another round of thunder and lightning, only to stop up short when he spotted the weapons and the glare both men shot him.

“Last chance! Drop your weapon!”

You tried to speak, but your words couldn’t carry over the butler’s lament, “Master’s prized vase!”

“Everyone please!” Damien begged, his voice rising above the noise. “I know we’re all on edge, but can’t we resolve this amicably?”

“On edge?!” Abe risked a glance at the mayor before returning his glare to the Colonel. “This psycho tried to shoot me!”

He backed away as the Colonel approached.

“That’s a bold-faced lie,” the Colonel said, glancing over his shoulder at you as if sensing that you were shadowing his steps in order to explain, “I was merely doing some light target practice.”

“Inside?!” Without an ounce of hesitation, Benjamin waved his duster in the Colonel’s face before the chef pulled him back.

“I was just talking to you a couple of minutes ago, when did you decide to come back inside?” you asked, hoping to at least keep the Colonel distracted. The longer he and Abe kept talking, the longer you could put off the moment when one of them might pull the trigger.

“Well, yes, I couldn’t go on the grounds now with that bloody chef in my way, could I?”

“Damn right! You shoulda remembered that, Private!”

“It’s Colonel,” he growled, apparently more annoyed by being addressed by the wrong rank than the fact the Chef had just given his pith helmet a whap with his ladle.

Behind them, you could see the moment Abe lost his patience, just before he shouted, “Enough of this horseshit! You knew I was on to you, and you tried to whack me off before I could finger you!”

Abe paused just long enough to realize how that sounded before tacking on, “As the murderer!”

More thunder and lightning greeted Abe’s accusation and you had to raise your voice again to be heard.

“Abe, what are you talking about? Colonel!”

The last word came as a shout, as both men were so close now that they could hardly miss with their guns pointed at the others’ face, Abe’s eyes wide with anger and maybe even fear as the Colonel roared, “I will not be called a murderer, in my own home!”

“Stop!”

The cry came from the front door, where a woman dressed in black and white, a veil covering half her face, was briefly silhouetted against the flash of lightning outside.

“What are you doing?!” she shouted as she strode in between the two, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Who the hell are you?” Abe asked as he lowered his weapon.

“Celine,” the Colonel breathed, eyes widening in shock behind his glasses. “What are you doing here?”

Celine?

“Celine?” Abe repeated. “Wait, Celine as in—”

“Madame, I’m afraid that you’ve come at a very inopportune time,” Benjamin said, in an amazing example of understatement. “Something dreadful has happened here.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad I got here before it got any worse,” Celine said, looking around the room before her eyes briefly met yours, despite your attempt to back away from the conversation.

Thankfully, her attention was just as quickly drawn away by the chef, who wasted no time in telling her that her ex-husband was dead. Although she did pause at the claim that he was a “flesh-eating zombie.”

“Homo necrosis?” she asked, her eyes immediately going to the Colonel.

“Exactly. Maybe. Possibly. Hence the guns,” the Colonel said, waving his gun.

“That is not ‘hence the guns’!” Abe said, mimicking the Colonel by waving his own gun until he caught your glare and quickly lowered it again. “And stop waving that thing around!”

“H-hold on! Tell me what happened!” Celine said, her hands outstretched in a placating manner. “How did Mark…die?”

“It was murder,” Damien said from behind you, a rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning echoing his words. “And worse yet, the body is missing.”

“What?” Celine paused, the implications no doubt running through her mind the same as it had through everyone else’s. “Show me. And don’t say that word again.”

“What word?” Chef asked. “Murder?”

She glared at him as thunder crashed outside yet again.

“Yes! That word!”

“Well, ‘murder’ is a rather accurate description—” Benjamin started, the thunder and lightning not stopping him but Celine suddenly in his face certainly doing so.

“Do you not see the lightning?!” she shouted, gesturing at one of the nearby windows.

You, having slowly but steadily backed your way out of the group of people until you were standing at a distance, listened with about as much disbelief as the others as Celine explained that, somehow, just saying the word “murder” was enough to call up the thunder and lightning that had been going on all day.

Really, she shouldn’t have been so surprised that the others would be bent on testing this theory all the way to the living room, where Abe pointed out the very clearly empty patch of floor where Mark’s body once lay.

“Stop, stop!” Celine said, finally reaching her breaking point. “Look, whatever is happening here is tapping into forces far beyond our control.”

“Don’t,” she added, a finger at Benjamin when he opened his mouth and waited until the butler shut it again with a loud clop before continuing, “Mark’s death is a terrible thing indeed, but I feel like there’s more to this story. This kind of power doesn’t just build up on its own.”

Damien sighed before taking it upon himself to explain, “Last night, at the beginning of our party, Mark received a strange package. Inside, there were envelopes addressed to all seven of us, each containing cards. Mark’s…happened to include a death card.”

“Cards?” Celine looked around the room at the less than eager to share guests and said with a tone that did not allow for any kind of arguing, “All of you, get your cards and bring them here. Now.”

To your surprise, no one argued. Within minutes, all seven of you were seated around the same table where you played cards the night before, but with a very different set of cards in hand. Abe was the first to move, taking a pair of blood-stained cards from his chest pocket and laying them out in the center of the table for all to see.

“These were on Mark’s body when he was found this morning. Same Death card he showed the table last night, plus one that just says ‘Werewolf.’”

To his credit, Abe didn’t look at you, and neither did Damien or the Colonel. Celine, however, looked straight at you for an entire second before speaking.

“Did you all receive a Tarot card?”

There were murmurs of assent around the table, but Chef added, “Not like I know what mine’s supposed to mean. What the hell is a ‘Hierophant’?”

“Well, the problem is, there’s no context,” Celine said, her eyes roaming around the table to meet each person in turn. “Generally speaking, a traditional reading involves more than just one card, but even on their own the meaning of the card depends a lot on the questions being asked, the individual’s personal experiences and intuitions, and so on. Even the position of the card says so much—the Hierophant upright can mean traditional values and institutions, while upside down it can represent breaking with those same traditions and values. Without context, we don’t know which message was meant.”

Everyone at the table looked at the Chef and Celine cleared her throat before adding, “Although we can always guess.”

The Chef considered for a moment and shrugged, clearly not about to argue. You remembered his other card, the one that called out the restaurant Easy Pickin’s by name. Breaking norms was the whole reason the place was shut down, after all.

“Well?” Celine said, once again looking around the table. “Why don’t you all put your cards on the table, and let’s see if there’s a pattern?”

The Colonel was the first to toss his cards out, almost literally. They skidded a bit when they hit the smooth surface of the table, the typed card with the name “Dave” almost obscured by the “The Lovers” card. You raised an eyebrow and the Colonel only shrugged a shoulder and waved a hand, gesturing for the others to follow suit.

Abe was next, his “Hermit” card mostly obscuring the far longer list of names on his other card, and then Damien, Benjamin, and the Chef followed. While the Chef was almost as careless as the Colonel about laying his cards out, you noticed Damien and Benjamin were more careful to keep the Tarot card on top of their other card to keep it from view. “Temperance” for Benjamin, and “Emperor” for Damien.

And of course, “Death” for you.

“Well,” Abe said, breaking the silence, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any kind of pattern here. It just looks like a bunch of random cards.”

“Perhaps your other cards,” Celine started, only to pause when she saw the collective wince around the table. “Although…I can’t help but notice your card, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that one’s much of a mystery,” you said dryly.

The chef nodded, “Yep, someone wants you dead.”

“…Thanks for that, Chef.”

Benjamin hid a chuckle, but Celine remained as serious as ever as she said, “That card doesn’t always mean literal death. It could refer to the end of a phase in your life, a sudden change. Transformation.”

She didn’t need to put the emphasis on the last word any more than she needed to close her eyes and outstretch a hand toward you as she intoned, “But I sense something else at work here. Why is it that you and Mark received the same card, but everyone else’s was different? This couldn’t have just been a mistake. A Tarot deck wouldn’t have duplicates of the major arcana, so someone had to go out of their way to make sure there would be two Deaths here.”

Here, Celine opened her eyes and added, “More importantly, I can’t help but notice you’re the only one here to put just one card on the table. Why is that? What are you trying to hide?”

“I…” You faltered, unable to offer an explanation. It wasn’t like you were about to admit the werewolf card belonged to you, but it did beg the question of what happened to Mark’s other card. Did he not get a second card like everyone else, or if he did, where did it go?

You picked up the Death card and showed it to the table, trying to feign ignorance as you said, “This is all I’ve—”

Except your words were cut short when the card in your hand slipped and you felt the second, unnoticed card stuck to its back give and reveal itself. The card meant for Mark, the one he probably never got a chance to see for himself.

You paused and, realizing there was nothing else you could do at this point, turned the card over and read aloud the words typed on it.

“’Mirror, mirror, on the wall, watch as I—‘”

You stopped short, but there was nothing you could do to stop everyone else at the table, who were already reading the rest for themselves:

Betray them all.

((End of Part 15. Thank you for reading! And apologies if I got anything wrong about the cards, I sort of just went with what I could find online.

Link to Part 16: Alone With the Seer.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch))

[fallstreakfeathers]

[ Dont Look Down] Chapter- 3 CH Rating- T Warnings- n/a

Full work here- CLICK Tumblr masterlist here- CLICK

Shouting. She heard shouting… multiple voices arguing about something. They can’t keep the volume down? Kita blinked the sleep from her eyes with a yawn. Where was she? It smelled green. “What do ya mean ya can’t find her?!” one of the voices growled. Something tickled her cheek and she quickly swiped it with her hand. Spider! Oh… no, nevermind. That didn’t feel like it had legs. It was smooth, and flat, and an organic ruffling sound surrounded her as she smacked whatever it was. “I left her right here!” the second voice insisted tautly. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting at the light that sprayed through the leaves. Kita grumbled to herself more sound penetrated the wooden door. If she couldn’t see through the branches and leaves she hid in, she would’ve thought Leviathan was in the room. “She said she wanted to sleep!” “Well she ain’t in the bed!” Mammon huffed. No, not spiders (thank God), Kita reassured herself blearily. Why am I in a tree?

She slowly sat up, rubbing her stomach where it had been pressed against the bark of the branches and winced as her shirt unstuck itself from the imprints left on her stomach. If she hadn’t been intent on remaining hidden from the demons outside her door, she would’ve laughed at grooves temporarily embedded in her skin. “Are you sure she’s not there?” Leviathan asked. “Bed’s made, nothing’s moved, no human in sight.” “Right, well,” Leviathan started,” the human is your responsibility, not that I'll ever understand what possessed Lucifer to put such an untrustworthy, scummy, lowlife demon in charge of anyone else, but good luck finding her!” “Uh-uh, no way!” Mammon barked, “you were the last one with her, so you’ll help me find the human before Lucifer finds out.” “Before I find out what?” a honeyed voice echoed through the door like the purr of a predator about to pounce. “Nothing, nothing! I definitely didn’t bail on the human and Levi definitely didn’t lose her,” Mammon babbled. A nervous rambler? I’ll have to make sure I never tell him anything. A growl of the white-haired demon’s name traveled through the room, heavy and silky. There was no mistaking the authority that rang in his tone.

Mammon yelped and Lucifer knocked on the door twice before it swung open. She froze, hoping that he’d just leave after finding nobody there. His red gaze swept the room before settling on the tree she rested in. His eyes narrowed slightly and her shoulders sagged in defeat. How the Hell did he know where she was? “Dinner is in five minutes,” he said, “it will not be saved for you.” With that, the door closed and Kita sighed and glanced at the small clock sitting on the dresser. 6:55pm. She’d slept less than three hours. Awesome. She grasped one of the lower branches and used her weight to flip herself over and off the tree, wincing as the bark scratched at her skin. She opened the creaky door with a sigh, stalking into the hallway where Mammon leaned against the patterned walls. “Eh? Where the hell were you?” “Tree,” she answered shortly as she brushed past him. The demon paused. “You have a bed though? Are ya that dumb?” “Sure, why not?” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Not wanting a bunch of strangers knowing where she was sleeping wasn’t idiocy. Considering her current situation and who these strangers claimed to be, it might as well be a survival tactic. She pushed past Mammon, ignoring his indignant huff, to follow the sound of idle chatter in the dining room. The small scraps of conversation died off as she stood awkwardly to the side. Why’d they have to stop talking? I’d rather just be ignored.

Thankfully, or perhaps to her embarrassment, Lucifer seemed to know her plight before she had the chance to voice it. “You may sit beside Mammon and Satan,” the first born told her. She nodded once, carefully pulling out the chair between the two demons so it didn’t scuff against the plush carpet. Whatever was being discussed resumed without a hitch as she sat at her assigned seat, in front of a large plate already stacked high with various unfamiliar food items. If some of it could be called that. The silver cutlery was as intricate as everything else in the building, and Kita felt small and completely outclassed as light glinted off the expensive utensils. Silver. Kita had eaten from plastic forks and paper plates in the human realm. She’d only ever dream of using plates like the one sitting in front of her. Eating from such wealth didn’t sit right with her stomach, and only furthered her belief that she did not belong there. With a glance through the tall windows, she could see the light of the moon hanging in the sky. Was there anywhere it’s beams couldn’t reach? Kita shifted. Even the chairs were an over-the-top, carefully chiseled luxury. The padding was some material she’d never seen before, velvet soft, and it felt like she was sitting on a cloud. The chair sitting by Beelzebub remained empty. Huh. ‘You’ll be staying in the House of Lamentation with Lucifer and his six younger brothers’. Those were the prince’s words, which meant there were supposed to be seven Avatars living in the mansion. She knew the first through sixth, so who was the seventh? And why hadn’t they been mentioned yet? “Kita, why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Oh no! Anything but that. There it was: The Question. The worst, and most unarguably jinxed inquiry in the three realms. Regardless of whether someone really cared to listen or was simply asking out of politeness, she could never seem to remember anything about herself once that cursed question was asked. Not that anything she could possibly say was of any importance anyway. “It’s a good time to get to know you a little. You’ll be staying with us for a year, after all.”

If I live that long.

“I’m afraid I’m not all that interesting,” Kita said just as Beelzebub stuck the leg of some sort of bird between his jaws. It disappeared in less than two bites.

Did...did he just swallow an entire turkey leg? Is that turkey? Oh my god.

“I’m sure there must be something entertaining about you,” Satan smiled.

“No, you don’t get it,” she disagreed, “I’m really quite boring.” Kita wasn’t as stupid as the demon clearly thought. He’d only asked to be polite, and that (in Kita’s opinion) was worse than not asking at all. If he’d heard her, he didn’t act like it. “Tell us about yourself.” It wasn’t a question anymore. “There’s nothing to tell,” Kita insisted. She shoved around the silver strings of something layered on her plate, then stabbed a lump of purple-ish meat. What was this? Were those insect legs?

“Didn’t you have a file or something about me?”

She was about to take a bite of the strange meat stuck to the end of her fork when a large hand reached over beside her to snag some kind of vegetable from her plate.

She smacked the offending limb with an angry glare, only to gasp when orange nails gripped her arm and a low rumbling filled the air. Her fork clattered on the silver plate as the rest of the demons froze, watching the two warily. The room was silent enough she was certain she'd hear a pin drop. Kita swallowed uncomfortably at the tension suffocating the group as the massive demon’s growls echoed and seemed to engulf her. She could feel the vibrations in her bones, and she tugged her arm back, wincing as his grip tightened and electricity crackled over his form. Kita’s eyes widened and for the first time since arriving, realized that these people were not lying when they’d said they weren’t human. “Beelzebub,” Lucifer’s voice called softly in warning. His eyes traveled to the eldest before he released her wrist with a grunt. She rubbed her bruised skin, wincing at the already purpling marks. The demon had already continued to eat from his plate (and the other’s) before Kita had even picked up her fork again.

 ≿————-　❈　————-≾

Kita mumbled to herself as she navigated the long halls of the house. She’d left her plate with the remainder of her uneaten food on the table. It didn’t make sense, in her opinion, for her to clean up when Beelzebub clearly would do it for her. She was pretty sure she’d seen the ginger eat a plate or two. Possibly a fork as well. I wonder how many people’s half-eaten food he’s chowed on? How does he not get sick? How can he even digest cutlery? There was no apology given for the demon’s actions, and Kita rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. Why would they apologize? They probably enjoyed the scene. Damn demons. She kicked at the rug. The shadows dancing on the wallpaper almost seemed a little too lively as her stomach complained about its own emptiness. She turned to drag herself down a different hall, sighing. She was lost. Wonderful.  Why’s this place so god-forsakenly big? Kita froze as a frustrated groan echoed in the candle-lit hall before a string of hoarse growls and harsh crowing in what seemed to be some sort of language buried the area in a cold haze. A chill ran up her spine. She couldn’t understand a word of whatever was said, but it was unpleasant and grated against her ears like nails on a chalkboard. She shivered, turning to retreat back to the guest room before an irritated voice grunted out in english. “Agh, come on!” Kita squinted at the familiar voice as she raised an eyebrow at the sight before her. Hanging from the ceiling, tied with a rope and upside down no less, was Mammon. Was he the one making that infernal noise? “Hey! Human, come here!” the second born called. Kita sighed, shoulders drooping as she shuffled forward. Of course she wouldn’t get past the demon without him seeing. That was just her luck. She stared at him and he gazed right back as the rope swung to-and-fro. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” the demon said, “would ya get me down though?” “...Who tied you up there?” “Lucifer,” he shrugged against the rope, “because I left ya earlier.” “Does he do that often? It seems unnecessary.” “Glad we agree, now get me down, human!” “Nah,” Kita’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t help people who can’t even be bothered to use my name.” “Help me or I'll  eat ya when I get down!” Mammon snapped. “Yeah, sure you will,” she shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants, “why not use your special demon powers or something? Or am I supposed to believe that a ruler of Hell can’t get himself out of a rope? What an idiot. “Hey! Worthless humans like you should talk to the Great Mammon with more respect!” he barked, “Ya should be kissin’ my boots, not talkin’ smart!” Worthless… She snorted, turning to return to the room she’d been assigned. She rose one hand in a half wave as she left. “See ya, dumb demon.” Kita paid very little heed to the indignant shouts as Mammon thrashed in the rope. She turned the corner and quickly descended the marble stairs. The house was surprisingly quiet, aside from the faint echoes of Mammon’s voice, for a place eight different people lived. She took a deep breath as she opened the door, smiling softly at the delicate scents of the various plants in the room. At least it smells nice, she thought, with my luck I would’ve expected rotting flesh or something. The girl sighed, exhausted despite her nap and more than ready to just climb the stupid tree and sleep once more. Maybe when she woke up this time she’d be back home. She shook her head at herself. It was already known by the demons that she’d used the tree to hide away, so that would be the first place they would look for her. She’d need to find somewhere else. She backed away from the plant, pausing mid-stride on her way to the door again when something on the bed caught her attention. A uniform matching what the demons had worn all day had been neatly folded and placed on the silky sheets, a dark contrast to the obnoxiously pink coverings (seriously would it have killed them for some neutral colors?). A small spray bottle with some sort of liquid sat next to it. “Odor Eliminator” Kita read, “ ferals keep mistaking you for dinner? Get rid of pesky mid-day human odors with this special formula!” She grimaced, unfurling  the clothes before dropping it unceremoniously back on the bed. The jacket jingled cheerfully as it landed, like it was mocking her ire.

There was no way in Heaven or Hell she was wearing the pink, frilly monstrosity of a skirt crumpled in front of her. She refused to even wear shorts on the small side. She gripped the clothing in her hand once more, frowning. Who would be the best to go to with this? She pondered. Lucifer. He was the ‘eldest’, after all, and clearly the one in charge around here so it would make sense to go to him with a problem.  The human nodded to herself, irritation canceling out any fear she should’ve had of the demons in the house while she stalked out of the room. Lucifer or not, she couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She wanted pants. She found Lucifer downstairs in the commons area and wasted no time tossing him the garment. “Pants. I’m not wearing this.” “You’ll wear what is provided,” Lucifer replied in a tone that should’ve left no room for arguments, his tired eyes trained on the article held in his hand as he occasionally sipped a cup of dark coffee. At least, it smelled like coffee. Kita sighed quietly and considered her options. She could simply take a loss (no). Perhaps she could steal one of the demon’s spare pair of pants? Also a no. There was no way she could possibly sneak around without being caught by someone, and the clothes were probably cursed anyway. So that left the only reasonable option left. “Pants, or I jump off the roof.” “You won’t.” “I will,” Kita argued, “I guess I could also ask some random demon to eat me. Shouldn’t be too hard to find someone.” The glare she received should’ve terrified her, but it had no effect in her own irritation. “I do not wear skirts. Or dresses. Or shorts.” “Once more, you have been provided with this, so you will wear it.” “Sure. And I can tell your prince just how great a job you’re doing of making the exchange student comfortable,” Kita frowned, “I don’t feel a slight change of wardrobe is too much to ask, considering what’s expected of me.” Lucifer was silent for a moment. “Mammon will show you to your classroom tomorrow at 8:50am. Be ready by then.” He’s ignoring me?! “It’s nearly time to turn the lights out. Go back to your room and rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” Kita opened her mouth to protest, shutting it just as quickly as he raised his hand to stop her. She frowned and left the uniform on the side of the furniture before turning to stalk away. “Kita,” Lucifer spoke over his shoulder, “do not wander at night.” That accomplished absolutely nothing, she berated herself. What did she expect? That Lucifer would actually listen to her?

Ridiculous.

I can’t believe they aren’t even giving me a day to adjust, she sniffed as she walked under the archway to the front entrance. Kidnapped with no negotiations, threatened, humiliated, and they want her to take it all in a stride? What a joke. At least the living space was pretty. Kita padded over the soft carpeting into the main hall where the tall dragon-like gargoyles stood watch over the main doors. She peered up at the snarling faces leaning over its pedestal. Its ruby eyes glowed warmly in the light of the fireplace, and the creature's spiny tail wrapped around its pillar protectively. She tore her sight from the intricately carved statues as loud footsteps fell above her.  Kita lowered her eyes as Beelzebub made his way down the staircase and passed her. She pretended she wasn’t aware of his amethyst gaze watching her. If she didn’t make eye contact, then there would be no reason for him to interact with her, right? Right. That’s how it always was. If she didn’t look them in the eyes, if she didn’t challenge them, then she’d be left alone. Kita released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as the massive demon disappeared around the corner and into the next room. Stumbling quickly up the marble stairs, the door to the guest room shut with an audible click.  She wandered over to the bed where the small bottle of ‘odor eliminator’ still sat and read the instructions on the back. If it was meant to destroy the smell of humans on demons after they fed (she shuddered), then it would hide a living human’s scent too, right?  She sprayed it over herself and the clothes she’d arrived with and was pleasantly surprised to find it had no chemical smell. In fact, it smelled like nothing at all. Kita peeked into the hallway, gripping a small blanket and watching for movement before slipping out. She followed the plush flooring back to the staircase, jumping slightly when a clock chimed eleven times. She shook her head at herself before carefully standing on the wooden handrails behind the large statues. Next, she tested her grip on the sides of the round spikes on the creature’s wings, using them to pull herself up to the top of the pedestal. She avoided the sharpest bits and wedged herself between the stone creature’s front legs as if the hard claws and detailed fangs would be able to protect her from the dangers of the house. It was stupid, she knew, but the ruby eyes of the dragon still glowed warmly with promises of safety, so she closed her eyes and attempted to sleep in its stone embrace. She was sure she’d likely be woken before it was time for school anyway. She snorted at the thought. I’ve been dragged to Hell to go to school. Full of demons, and who knows what else.

She’d already had enough demons for several lifetimes.

[cruciferousjex]

Only Gods

a oneshot about the creation of Imp that elbow-dropped my brain until 4am last night, so please enjoy Hordak's goddam baby rabies.

❤

Hordak had spent his life in the constant company of his Brothers. He'd rarely been alone, much less lonely, much less how horrendously lonely he'd at times been on Etheria. He felt the lack of family keenly, missed their voices and scent.

Hence Imp.

That he had never managed to clone a body for himself was not entirely true. He had, and on his first attempt no less. A perfect vessel, flawless in its code, the result of years painstaking labor. It would take twenty years to mature into a proper container for an Emperor. Prime was able to expedite this process into months, but it involved ingredients and power sources unavailable on Etheria. So, Hordak settled in for the long haul. All he had to do was wait and watch his immortality thrive in the vitrine before him. It was his prize creation. He placed it in the center of his Sanctum and kept an eye on it always, so he would know the moment anything went wrong. 

For three years he watched it grow from a strange little lump into an organism with distinct fingers and toes and a face. It began curled up, as was typical for a clone, but to his suprise it one day stretched out, flexing its fingers, floating blissfully in the green creche fluid. 

This alarmed Hordak greatly. Given he was never overly involved in any aspects of the Horde's reproduction, but he'd never seen a tanked clone move. 

"What is wrong with you?" he muttered before the vitrine console. "What is wrong with you?"

[[MORE]]

The scans sent back nothing. He went over every inch of the clone's form with his own eyes, stepping slowly around the tank with his hands on the glass, looking for any sign of decay or mutation on its little knees or claws or wings. But nothing appeared amiss, and the scans read perfectly normal.

Hordak pointed at the clone. 

"Cease your movements," he commanded it.

It did not cease it's movements. It spent most of its time curled in the proper position, but every so often twitched and jerked and splayed its limbs. The scans never indicated any problem. Perhaps this was normal? He'd never spent any great amount of time on the creche decks of the flagship where he himself was gestated. Maybe tanked clones always moved? Hordak came into the sanctum one morning to see it had flipped itself upside down, arms and legs spread to the four winds, a smug expression on it's sleeping face.

"Well don't you look happy with yourself!" he said. He tried to muster up some anger or frustration but, oddly enough, could not. He shook it off and settled for annoyed. "I told you not to move. Little imp."

He spent the whole of that day working in the green light of that ridiculous upside-down urchin. When the Force Captains came in for a briefing their eyes went wide. Hordak glanced back at the clone - it looked ridiculous - but the Captains dared not say anything. They simply reported on their most recent defeat against Bright Moon.

"You lost twenty soldiers, three skiffs, and runestone data it took years to obtain," Hordak snarled at the cringing Captains. "There will be punishments for this idiocy. There will be-"

There was a loud thud from the tank. Everyone in the room startled and turned. The clone had kicked the side of its container. It's heel slid against the glass loudly.

Hordak cleared his throat and turned back to the Captains. They looked from him to the creche and back again in fear.

"Explain yourselves," he growled, pointing at the head Force Captain.

"Sir, we - we were - unprepared-"

"Unprepared?" Hordak snarled. "The Horde saves you from your miserable lives, expends untold energy raising you, feeding you, training you, providing you with the best technology and weaponry and planning on Etheria, and you dare say to me that you were UNPREPARED?"

Another loud thud from the tank. The clone slammed it's little heel into the glass once, twice, three times,  as though stomping out whatever was causing upset in the Sanctum. The Force Captains took a visible step back, their eyes wide.

Hordak gestured to it. "Even HE can see that it is a pathetic excuse, Force Captain. You have failed me. Now get out of my sight while I decide on an appropriate punishment."

They bowed and rushed out the room, doing everything short of running. Hordak turned to the tank.

"I told you to stop moving," he muttered to it, tapping on the glass. "I have an empire to run. Your interruptions will not do."

It placed its foot on the glass as if to show it to him. Counterargument, it seemed to say, observe my little foot. Five tiny toes. Look at all these little lines on my sole, so perfectly made. 

"That's very nice,"  Hordak said, "But you must stop. They're more afraid of you then they are of me."

Despite himself Hordak smirked. He had never explained to the Force Captains what the clone was, and they had certainly never seen it move. To them it just appeared one day as the centerpiece of his Sanctum.  He saw them stare at it every time they came in. He knew it "freaked them the fuck out." Or so he'd overheard. 

He enjoyed that.  

The question in their faces. The awe and terror. The struggle as they attempted to understand the contents of the Sanctum and failed. He decided he liked the fear the clone inspired in them. It was good to cultivate the aura of one who dabbles in the dark and profane and twisted when dealing with Etherians.  It kept them on their toes. It was not as though this was too far off the mark, after all. Soon he would have to detank the clone, open it's skull, and make some ... minor alterations. 

It was a few deep snips, very simple really. A few connections cut which rendered the brain ready for transfer. It needed to happen within a four hour window of a brain hormone reaching a certain saturation point or the entire endeavor was lost. Hordak kept a tracker with him that would go off the second it was time. 

He watched the hormone numbers slowly rise over the next month. The clone returned to its proper position for a while then flipped and twisted in place, kicking its chubby legs, smiling peacefully. One time it stretched its arm over its head and pointed upwards, little wings outstretched, as if to say there, there is where I'm going, into the sky.

"You're staying right here," Hordak said.

The wing twitched. 

"Those will fall off when you mature," he said to tank. "It is said that only gods keep their wings. That is why they are the symbol of the Horde."

The little finger pointed with more insistence. The face scrunched up tight and yawned.

Hordak's entire body snapped to attention. It had never opened its mouth before. He had a nearly overwhelming primal impulse to get the baby out of the water. It was helpless and in terrible danger.

He remembered he was the terrible danger. 

Hordak swept some data pads off the console in frustration and walked out. 

The alarm went off that night. He looked at it with dread, which was not what he expected at this milestone. There was no reason to fear, it was a simple procedure he was well prepared for. He would drain the vitrine of the pre-surgical creche fluid, perform the procedure, then replace it with post-surgical fluid which kept the brain from repairing itself. And there it would remain for twenty years, growing steadily into his next vessel, but definitely not flipping or pointing or smiling or yawning or kicking the side of the tank.

He did not look at the clone he prepared for the procedure, setting up a tray with scalpels and clamps and tubes. As he drained the tank fluid its little body was caught by a net, which lifted it up to the top of the tank for Hordak to remove and take to surgery. 

He finally forced himself to look. It was limp now, sleeping. He gingerly reached in and picked it up. It was warmer than he expected. Heavier. Out of pure instict he held it to his shoulder, one hand protectively over its back. It melted into him. He touched it's head. The tuft of hair there was the softest and most delicate thing he'd ever felt. 

"Well," he whispered to it. "It's time."

But he could not make himself move. He just stood there, feeling the weight of it against him. He shut his eyes, savoring it's scent. It had been so long since he'd known the scent of his people. A million sense memories of Prime's flagship bubbled their way up to the surface, filling him with longing for home. For his Brothers.  He missed so desperately having others of his kind close by, and they did not get closer than this child on his shoulder.

It's little hand teached out and touched the skin of Hordak's throat. He swallowed hard.

"Stop. Get to work," Hordak chided himself. He gathered his resolve and turned towards the operating table, white and sterile, the instrument tray ready. The sharpness of the tools was repellent to him.

"No. This is not a child," he said to himself. "This is a container. It is your future."

The baby pressed its face to Hordak's neck, sharp little teeth nibbling at his skin. It's mouth was warm. It cooed.

"Quiet!" Hordak snapped. "Quiet. You've been a very bad boy, always moving and now you're making sounds. I never did that when I was in the tank," Hordak said, though he had no way to be sure. "I was good. I stayed still. Never uttered a word till I breathed air for a week, and here you are not ten minutes old, making noises. I -"

"Keh," the baby said, and gurgled.

Hordak grimaced. He glanced upwards as though entreating a higher power to help him, to stop this terrible churning in his stomach and chest. To make this child into the cold dead container he needed it to be, magically and without his involvement. The light glinted off the scalpels and clamps on the tray next to the surgical table. They were so sharp. He didn't want the child anywhere near them.

Hordak stopped walking. Turned in an anxious circle. Gently bounced the infant before forcing himself to a stop.

What the hell was he THINKING? No, this was ridiculous, the procedure was the only sensible way forward. The four-hour surgical window was ticking past, and he had contaminated the pre-surgical creche fluid. There was no going back now.

There was an another problem. What Hordak had now should he stop- what he had inadvertently created - was a permanent toddler.

Clones did not have the ability to grow outside a tank until the age of ten, when soldiers underwent tank removal. From the age of ten they could reach full maturity on their own, but not before. Until that point they needed close monitoring, the intoduction of certain hormones and nutrients into the creche fluid at certain times, or they would simply stop growing. If he did not go forward with the procedure now the clone would remain this size and shape, forever an infant complete with wings and tail. 

Hordak knew nothing of infants. He did not know how to teach it to talk and walk and keep itself clean. Ten year old clones were uploaded with this information just after detanking and were thus immediately self-sufficient in that sense. There was no time for potty training in the Horde. On Etheria he had dedicated a portion of the infirmary to serve as an orphanage but he could not in good conscience send a brother of Prime to be to raised among lesser beings.

Hordak could - he supposed he could - tailor an upload for the child that contained whatever Hordak needed him to know. To his knowledge such had never been done, but at this stage the brain was still malleable enough, still had enough growth hormone to work with. He felt reasonably confident he could provide the child with adequate self-sufficiency and knowledge. That would go a long way towards making the little imp a tolerable companion, which, Hordak supposed, was what it was to be if he went through with this. With ... keeping it.

No. No, this was an absurdity. What in the hell would he DO with it? There was no space in his life for an infant, no matter how independent. What if it cried? The scalpels still shone on the table. Hordak could still save himself this trouble and gurantee himself immortality. 

The baby nibbled at his neck. Slid his little arms around him and cuddled in close. Made a happy, curling little coo, and sneezed. 

No, Hordak realized. No, he could not.

Hordak shut his eyes and gave a final defeated sigh. His shoulders sagged. The fight was over. The imp had won.

"This is stupid," he muttered. "This is so utterly stupid."

The child shifted it's weight, dropping his head back to show Hordak a big smiling mouth full of little pointy teeth. Hordak cradled him. He pointed his tiny finger. Showed him a little foot. Here I am, he seemed to say to Hordak. Look at all I have!

"Yes, I see," Hordak sighed reluctantly, taking the foot between his fingers.  "Very nice. Come now."

He turned away from the operating table and carried his child to his personal rooms to dry it off and find something to wrap it in, the choice made, for better or worse. Had he known then he'd never again be able to generate a flawless new body for himself he may have chosen differently.  But he was more naive then. Etheria had not yet drained him. Back then he assumed if he'd achieved something once he could do it again. In the ensuing years he would learn, over and over and over, that this was not the case.

But in that moment Hordak did not know that, so he gave the child's head a gentle scratch. Imp smiled. Hordak found himself smiling back. He was filled with warmth. With relief that he'd chosen not to lift a scalpel to this little thing. He was ... glad of it. 

How the hell had this happened? What supernatural force made Hordak abandon immortality for a creature that was logistically useless to him? Likely a huge burden? 

Hordak looked down at the sleeping mystery in his arms, pondering it's power over him. The child's little wings fluttered. Wings he would keep forever. Hordak took one between his fingers, paper thin and sweet. 

Ah.

That was, Hordak decided, a proper explanation. One that made sense to him, that explained the child's extraordinary power.

Only gods keep thier wings.

[malachite-isms]

Your Kiss is on Their List pt4: Blake Belladonna

This was the second time the Malachite Twins had snuck into Beacon, one of the most prestigious Huntsman academies on the planet. Given their positions as high-ranking members of a notorious crime family, one could be forgiven for assuming they were doing so to steal something of value, or commit an act of sabotage to further their dubious enterprise.

However, the motivations of people, human and faunus alike, are infinitely varied. For the Twins in question, it was power, of sorts. The specific mix of emotions a humble enough person displayed when they activated their charm and applied their affection was a pleasure unlike any other. It wasn't the greatest joy in life, but it was more than enough to turn into their passion project of sorts.

The next step in said project was entering into the Beacon library for a moment of peace and reading to tire herself before bed. She used to do this in her own bed, but then the damn dog moved in and took a shine to her. Even in such a esteemed institution of learning, the late night hours tended to cause the library to empty out, giving her a unique opportunity to relax. Let her hair down, if you will.

Like always, she walked to a secluded table in the maze of shelves, took a seat, cracked open her book, and dove back into the story.

After some time, a sudden thud made Blake jump and she swung her head around to the general direction of the sound's source. Even with her hearing, she hadn't heard a footstep, or even the subtle shifting of clothes since she entered the library.

She replaced the bookmark and left her seat to investigate. After rounding a few corners, she spotted the apparent source of the noise; a hefty book in the biology section.

As she approached it, she had to consider why it had fallen. It was laying in the middle of the aisle, suggesting it had not fallen off the shelf. Someone had dropped it. Someone she couldn't detect. Perhaps a closer inspection would shed some insight.

She knelt before the book and inspected the displayed page. It was a biology book, feline faunus specifically. On the right page was a variety of circled and highlighted passages. It seems someone was interested in the little-known pressure points in the ears of feline faunus. At the bottom of the page, overlapping a diagram of a female cat faunus, was a lipstick print.

Blake felt her face heat up as she shot to her feet and speed walked back to her book.

They are here, Blake thought, they're here for me. She wasn't in any danger, she knew on some level. Even so, her body told her she was, the images of her teammates marked by their lipstick flashed in her mind fueling her irrational panic.

Blake rounded the final corner, catching sight of her untouched book. A sigh of relief was repurposed into a gasp when she heard a giggle directly behind her. She stopped and whirled around to find herself face-to-face with a smirking, very pretty, and upside-down face. After only a moment of contemplation on the odd sight, Blake was yanked by her waist high into the air.

As she settled in place in the library rafters, high above the shelves, Blake finally caught sight of her team's affectionate assailants. They fit Ruby and Weiss's descriptions to a T. Twins, one red-clad with a short bob cut, the other white-clad with a simple long straight cut. They were both stunning. She did not recall her teammates mentioning cat suits, though the... unique method of her capture.

They were each hanging in the air, much more gracefully than Blake was, on either side of her, gorgeously painted lips smirking at her.

"We heard you often came here to read," began the red one.

"And we just couldn't stand the thought of you being here all by your lonesome," the white one continued "So we came as quick as we could..."

"To keep you company~" they spoke in unison.

The white-clad twin swung herself toward Blake. She took Blake's cheeks in a hand and slowly swung back to her original position. Before Blake could form a coherent objection, the twin placed a tender kiss on her left temple.

"I must say," the twin said softly ",your eyes are enchanting." She released her speechless prize, letting her swing toward her sister, who caught her by her face.

"They are the eyes of a goddess," the red twin planted a lingering kiss on her right temple ",and we can't help but pay our offerings."

Blake was sent back to the white twin.

"But we also see pain in those eyes," she said before putting a tender kiss on her cheek and sending her sister.

"And we will not be so cruel as to deny you our comfort," another kiss on the other cheek, and she was swung again.

"You deserve to be told just how wonderful you are," a kiss on her jaw.

"And we will do just that," another kiss.

"And give you all the affection..." another kiss.

"...you're due." another kiss.

Blake floated in an incomprehensible canyon, a pendulum powered by the affections of these two odd, beautiful enchantresses. She would often let gravity swing her to and fro when hanging from her weapon's rope, but it was never as dreamlike as this.

Between the euphoria of their kind words and the warmth of their comforting kisses, Blake was lost in the experience. She had never truly faced her desire to feel affection like this. She missed it, desperately so. Her teammates were more touchy-feely than the people she was used to, a welcome change, if she were honest. But this was different.

Each honeyed word, each kiss shot right through Blake's psyche and stained her soul. If she were to describe what she wished to those so willing to fulfill that wish well... it might not exactly be this, but the effect was the same.

The ridiculousness of the situation was lost, Blake was being kissed, and damn it, she liked it. She never formed these thoughts, of course, her mind was a soup of blushing, but the conclusion formed in that soup all the same.

She wasn't thinking much, she didn't hear the twins declare their task finished, she didn't notice being carried out a window and into the night, and she didn't feel her ankles being tied.

Though she did feel her company's kisses farewell. As blissful as they were, they were lost in the feeling all the others had, and there were many others.

[4 hours later]

Weiss hit the dismiss button on her scroll, silencing the alarm the instant it woke her up. She sat up, taking only the moment needed to collect herself mentally before stepping out of bed.

She wondered when Blake would wake up. She was always the next to wake up, Weiss mused internally as she squinted in reflex before opening the blinds.

Curiously enough, the sun was not as irritating as it usually was, not even close. Weiss opened her eyes more fully, taking only a moment to recall the previous day's weather forecast before the scene before her caused her to let out a blood-curdling scream.

Ruby and Yang fell clumsily to the floor at the sudden alarm. Blake would have fallen out of bed as well, were it not for the rope holding her aloft by her ankles just outside team RWBY's dorm.

Ruby and Weiss moaned mournfully, sympathetic to their teammate's plight. Yang was not prepared for such a sight and did not try to hide the anxiety from her face. Luckily, she did not need to as Ruby and Weiss were preoccupied in getting a still-entranced Blake into their room.

After some awkward maneuvering, Blake's team got her back into her room. Ruby and Weiss apologized profusely to Blake, who was slowly waking up from her stupor, insisting they should have been more diligent in their defense of their teammate. All the while, they were scrubbing the copious number of lipstick marks from Blake's face and neck.

The two stammered and blushed freely, directly reminded of their own ordeals at the lips of this enigmatic pair.

Yang meanwhile, stared blankly at one of the two identical messages she received simultaneously from two seperate numbers on her scroll.

"See you soon <3 XOXOXO"

[secondgenerationnerd]

Quiet time

Enjoy this Daddy!Damian time

**

A late summer breeze drifts through open windows. Pieces of weapons and clothes pile around the living room. Damian Wayne stretches out on the couch, as he’s known to do on these quiet days, with good book as his only companion.

“’Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate./ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.--”

A soft grunt interrupts him. He smiles down at the sleeping baby on his chest. She yawns, whimpering as she starts to wake up. 

“It’s ok, baby flower.” He coos, “Your baba has you. Baba’s right here.”

His daughter sneezes, blinking up at him. A soft kiss to her soft, dark curls and he continues to read. “‘And Summer’s lease hath all to short a date/Too hot the eye of heaven shines—“

“Are you really reading Shakespeare to your newborn?” Damian rolls his eyes at Jason’s voice. Of course, his brothers have to ruin his quiet afternoon. He doesn’t even attempt to sit up, too comfortable with the baby where she is.

“And if I am?”

“She can’t understand you yet.” Tim reminds his little brother, all three of the older men coming around the couch. The sight of the youngest Robin, who used to train whenever he had a free moment, relaxing is weird enough. Dick offers a finger to Asha, smiling when the little girl grips it.

“Perhaps, Drake, I read to my daughter,” He smiles a bit, “Because I enjoy reading aloud.”

“Just saying, little engine that could is just as good as sonnets.

“-tt-” Damian clicks his tongue. The door opens as Irey comes into the living room. Water spots litter the collar of her Flash tank top.

“Oh, no.” Irey laughs, drying her long hair with a towel. “You three interrupted cuddle bug time.”

“Cuddle bug time?” Jason raises his eyebrow at her. 

“Yep.” Irey leans over the couch, giving Damian an upside-down kiss. “Baba loves cuddling his Lightning Bug, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

Asha tries to lift her head up at the sound of her mother’s voice, grunting softly. Irey lifts her daughter up, murmuring in Korean. The look Damian gives his girls —that look of total love and adoration and bliss— is something his brothers never thought they’d see.

“You sure you had a kid two weeks ago, Irey?” Jason asks. It’s true. The 19-year-old had already lost what little baby fat she’d gained. Irey laughs as she bounces the baby..

“Speedster genetics. Gotta love them.” Asha sneezes. Irey smiles down at her baby, “Such a sneezy baby, Lightning bug.”

“Is there a reason you three decided to visit?” Damain asks, sitting up.

“What? Can’t we visit our baby brother for no reason?” Jason actually sounds offended at Damian’s question. But there’s that twinkle in his eye.

“-tt- not in this family.”

Dick laughs at that. “Fair enough. We did bring you something. Tim?”

Tim goes out of the room. Damian and Irey exchange a look, neither sure what to expect, especially from his brothers. Then, the soft sound of nails clicking clicking clicking against the wood floors. The door opens and Damian lights up.

“Hey, boy!” Titus runs to his master, Damian crouching down to pet and scratch the Great Dane. Irey smiles. Titus had been so confused when Damian died. Tim had taken him in, just because Titus hated the manor without his young master. “Hey, hey, hey! Look at you. I missed you too.”

The dog licks Damian’s hands and face, sniffing at his clothes. If dogs could frown, Titus did at a new unfamiliar scent in Damian’s clothes. Irey giggles, “I think Titus realized he has competition. Isn’t that right, Lightning Bug?”

“Well, let’s address that.” Damian chuckles. He takes a moment to sit cross-legged on the ground. He reaches up to Irey, who passes Asha to him. Asha stretches in her little body out, still adjusting to this great new world. Titus, understandably, sniffs at the infant. “Titus, this is Asha. Asha, this is Titus.”

Irey melts at the sight of her boyfriend introducing their child to his favorite pet. She looks at the older men, “Thank you, guys.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dick hugs the young hero. “How have you been?”

“Well, I pushed a tiny human out of my vagina two weeks ago. So still a bit sore.”

Jason snorts, “Not sure most would be able to handle having Damian’s kid.”

“How have things with you two?” Dick nods at Damian, still letting the dog sniff the baby.

“They’re good. Talking helps...”

“Are you still talking to Dinah?” Tim asks.

“Yeah. Lots of shit happened in not a lot of time. It’s helping a lot.” Irey crosses her arms over her belly. 

“Irey.” Dick hesitates. “About what happened with Bruce--”

“It’s in the past. What happened happened.” Irey looks at her boyfriend, in a world of his own. Asha gives a little squeak as Titus licks her toes. “Alrighty, Baba, it’s feeding time for Lightning Bug.”

“I can feed her a bottle.” Damian offers.

Irey laughs, “Stop hogging her, Dames. She had one of the bottles earlier. It’s Mama time.”

Damian pouts but gives her Asha. Asha coos softly as Irey hums, settling on the couch. His brothers politely look away as Irey adjusts her top to breastfeed Asha. The young mom laughs softly at the men.

“Oh, bug, your uncles are being silly again. They’re not used to Mama being Mama.” Irey adjusts the baby so she can eat more comfortably. Damian gives Titus another scratch behind the ear before joining Irey on the couch. 

“So, what’s the plan for you two now?” Tim asks, leaning back in his seat.

“Survival. We’ll probably find a new place. Somewhere with two rooms probably.” Irey shrugs. “Right now I’m just happy being here.”

“Selina wants to know when she’s going to meet her grandbaby.” Dick notes. “Something about making up for lost time?”

“Can’t blame her. It’s been hard to travel. And I didn’t want anyone to be with me in the hospital that wasn’t family...” As Irey speaks, Damian frowns. His death has left a painful blackness in his memories. Irey never spoke about delivering Asha. She told him about holding Asha and watching the fireworks with her. But nothing about the birth. A gentle touch to his cheek pulls him from his thoughts. “Babe?”

“I’m ok. Just thinking.” He kisses her fingertips.

“Ok.” Irey smiles at him. 

“Any chance you have a pic of Asha we can take to the girls? They’ve been tied up with a shit ton of cases and will kill us if we don’t get one.” Jason nods at Irey.

“I had a nurse record the birth so I should have one or two for you.”

“You recorded it?” Tim asks.

“It was the only time I’d have a baby. I wanted to have something to remember it.” 

**

Damian stands under the hot water of the shower. It’s one of the few things that drives the chill from his bones lately. The thick scar in the middle of his chest, pale against his dark skin, is the only reminder of his death. Getting out of the shower, he dries off and pulls on his sleep pants. Irey lounges in bed, Titus resting his head on her lap.

“Hey, babe.” Irey smiles as he climbs into the bed with her. He pulls an arm around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said this was the only baby you’d have?”

Irey turns in the bed to look at him. “I mean...Damian...You were dead. I didn’t know you were going to be brought back. All I knew was that the man I love was gone and I was having his baby.”

“You wouldn’t have dated?” 

“I dunno.” She traces the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t think that I could ever open my heart to anyone again. Not the way I did with you. I just...I had Asha. I’d like to believe that she’d be enough for me...”

“Nuri...” Damian isn’t sure what to say. He touches the stretch marks on her belly, her reminder of the past four months. Proof of their child, the daughter she carried and brought into this world. Damian’s throat tightens. He never got to see her carry Asha. Never got to touch her belly, feel the baby they made move and kick. She’d been alone giving birth. He should have been there. Should have been there to hold her hand during the contractions, wipe the sweat from her face, telling her how strong she is. He didn’t get to see his daughter come into the world. 

“Hey...hey...” Irey’s soft voice pulls him back. “It’s ok, babe...There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I should have been there with you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

Before he can ask her anything, they hear Asha crying over the baby monitor. Damian kisses Irey gently, “I’ve got her, beloved.”

“Ok.” Damian gets out of bed and crossing the room. Jai, Colin, and Jon had spent the time Irey was in the hospital turning her closet into a tiny nursery for Asha. The soft white walls glow from the nightlight. Asha cries in the crib, struggling against her swaddle. Damian gently untangles the baby. He lifts her up, cradling her like she’s made of glass.

“It’s alright, baby flower. I’ve got you. Your baba has you.” He coos to her. After changing her diaper and feeding her one of the bottles of ready to eat formula, he sits with her in her rocking chair. Asha gives a small yawn and nuzzles her face into her father’s chest. Damian blinks a few tears from his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve Irey. So many sins weight his soul down, yet this tiny child, innocent and pure, she’s his. He will get to raise her with a woman who loves him so deeply that he’ll never understand. What did he do to deserve this?

“Asha? Baba loves you. I love you so, so much.” He slips a finger into her tiny hand. Asha reflexively grips it, but he pretends she’s holding it because she wants to. “I hope you grow up knowing how much Mama and I adore you. I hope you grow up happy.”

Irey smiles to herself, listening to Damian over the baby monitor. He’s such a good father. Irey glances at a text from her father, waiting for Damian to join her.

That’s when she hears Damian’s shout of surprise and a crash. Irey’s out of bed in an instant racing to her daughter’s room. She catches sight of Asha in her crib, Damian laying face up with something dark on his chest.

Then everything goes dark.

[scaredofheroin]

Captain N - Chapter 3: It’s Dangerous To Go Alone

Pushing the large doors of Peach's Castle open, Captain N feels a new invigoration within him as he looks over the horizon. The sunlight on his face and the breeze brushing across his skin felt new in no way these senses ever had before. The rolling green hills, the almost cloudless blue sky, the hills in the distance formed in the shape of upside-down U's, the few birds flying around through the open air, the small mushroom-shaped houses. A completely new, unknown world packed to the brim with adventure and discovery. For the first time in his life, Captain N felt truly alien. By his side is a bird-pilot, a winged angel wielding a bow, and a magic Princess from a faraway kingdom. Behind the grand, wooden doors he just exited are currently a stern, stone-faced God of thunder, a gentle, angelic Goddess of light, and a bright and pink Princess of this kingdom. And the vehicles! While on his home world, Captain N's species have been limited mainly to cars and trucks, but within fifteen minutes of his arrival, he's seen a spaceship a fraction of the space shuttles of Earth, and mighty airships carrying immeasurably powerful armaments. Within a couple hours, Captain N has seen more impossibilities made possible than ever before in his entire, eighteen-year life. And to top it all off: the prophecy. This great revelation planted a swirling storm of emotions deep inside the newly dubbed hero. While he's finally achieved the level of greatness and importance he's desired for so long, it came packaged with more responsibility than he's ever held before. From hereon out, the lives of countless innocent men, women and children are counting on Captain N triumphing over an evil force he's only just been introduced to. Bowser, King K. Rool and King Dedede, and the armies they command. Gazing into the distance, Captain N imagines what else he could discover in this strange, new world named Yamajiro. Adventure will lurk around every corner, as will danger. He'll be thrust into more life-threatening situations than ever before, more risk than he could ever have imagined he would ever be trapped in. But at least he won't be alone. Looking to his three newfound allies, Pit radiated a positive determination to save the day, Falco seemed slightly bitter and ready to face the evils of Yamajiro head-on, and Princess Zelda displays a readiness to escape the confines of the castle and help in changing the world for the better.

"Are you ready, Captain?" Zelda asked, snapping Captain N's wandering mind back to the present.

"Ready as I'll ever be." He responded, fearing his nervousness seeping out of his words.

"Right, first stop: The warp zone!" Pit announced, pointing to a nonspecific point in the distance.

Captain N could hear Falco grumble about not being able to get to New Leaf Town in his trusty Arwing, but fortunately didn't complain to the group. Pit didn't seem to notice, however, and led the group on with determination. Zelda and Falco followed directly behind Pit, with Captain N in the back, still taking in the foreign scenery. Few conversation was shared as the group trekked through the grassy plains, eventually going through a small town of mushroom-shaped houses. Looking back, it concerned Captain N a slight bit more to see Peach's Castle, a symbol of fortitude and currently occupied by the two powerful deities Palutena and Raiden, shrink further into the distance. Not wanting to sink further into worry, he turned his attention to the strange houses. Some of the houses were only a single story, with the roof replaced with a red mushroom cap with white dots, while other houses were two stories tall. As Pit led the group through the town center, a small marketplace could be seen, but what was noticeably absent from the entire town were actual townspeople.

"So... what happened to everyone?" Captain N asked, breaking the silence.

Zelda sighed forlornly before turning to answer him.

"Once the airship raids began, the Toad people were evacuated to other, safer places, from New Donk City to the Kanto region. Fortunately, only the castle was targeted by the airships, but panic ensued nonetheless." She explain to Captain N, the slight waver in her voice illuminating that the memory is still a sore spot for her.

"Some of the braver Toads stayed behind to help Princess Peach, Raiden and Lady Palutena in any way they could." Pit added on, his voice more chipper in comparison. "Falco, Princess Zelda and I would do what we could, as well, but now that you're here, we could do a lot more good than wait around and wait for Bowser and crew to show their ugly faces!"

"Hey, uh, that reminds me: ...who are you all?" Captain N nervously asked, addressing the elephant in the room. With the group realizing that this was a good question to ask, the three turned to face him.

"Well, you already know that my name's Pit, but I'm also the captain of Lady Palutena's royal guard!" Pit announced, taking pride in his title. It did sting Captain N a little that Pit actually earned the title of captain, rather than taking it because it sounds cool. "I mainly use this here bow, but I'm proficient with pretty much any other weapon out there!"

"Name's Falco, currently the best pilot on this whole planet and I used to be with Star Fox squadron before they... vanished. Now I've just got my Arwing, my blaster, and my wits." Falco spoke up, leaning against a nearby light post. "You've got us too, you know!" Pit noted eagerly. Falco simply shrugged and responded with "Yeah, I guess so.". Zelda rolled her eyes a bit before introducing herself.

"And I am Zelda, Princess of the kingdom of Hyrule and ancestor of the mortal incarnation of the Goddess Hylia." Zelda introduced herself in a very curt and proper manner. With everyone properly introduced and their importance made known, Captain N felt even more out of place. His footing suddenly felt uneasy as the three pairs of eyes turned to him. "Why don't you introduce yourself to us?" Zelda suggested. Captain N's mouth felt dry, trying to figure out what best to say to make himself sound worthy of the prophecy.

"Well... my name's Peter Lavancha, and, uh... I'm... Captain N." was the best he could do, adding a slight shrug to the end of his sentence. Falco snickered to himself, Pit raised an eyebrow and Zelda seemed more confused to anything else. "...Is that it?" Zelda asked, prodding further. "...Kind of, yeah." Captain N meekly replied. "That can't be it! You're the chosen one for a reason! Are you good at fighting or good with weapons?" Pit asked, hoping to alleviate the awkwardness. This failed however, as Captain N shook his head in response. "You some kinda tech whiz, or know how to pilot? You had that weird car back there." Falco noted, referring to Captain N's currently wrecked car. "Not really, everyone my age can do that." He replied, with slight shame in his voice. "Perhaps you're a dedicated leader? Someone who can inspire people towards a common goal?" Zelda asked, eliciting only a "No, sorry" from Captain N. "Have you at least been in a fight?" Falco asked Captain N. In response, all he got was an embarrassed "...No". Falco leered at Pit, silently saying "THIS guy's gonna save the planet?". But before Falco could verbally make a snarky comment, Zelda spoke up once more.

"Well, then, if you're not currently a warrior, then surely you could become one along your journey. The weapon you're holding means you're the one who can defeat Bowser, Dedede and K. Rool." Zelda insisted, motioning to the laser pistol Captain N was holding. He wasn't feeling brave enough to stick it in his pocket yet. Captain N nodded in agreement, eyeing the pistol. "...Yeah, destiny can't be wrong, can it?" He replied, feeling a bit more upbeat. "That's the spirit!" Pit cheered, grateful the mood's lightened. Captain N eyed a road sign a good distance away from him before getting an idea. "I should get comfortable with using this thing, right?" He noted, raising the pistol and aiming at the sign. Holding his breath, he closed his left eye, looked down the sights, pulled the trigger, and a flash of light later, there was a small blast mark singed on the upper right corner, not the center he was aiming for. Captain N felt thrown off by the complete lack of recoil when he shot the pistol, due to there being no kinetic force involved in shooting lasers.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get plenty of time to practice soon." Falco noted, unimpressed with Captain N's lack of marksmanship. "For sure!" Pit added. Captain N only sighed to himself, hoping he'd do a little better. Turning back to the group, he examined the pistol further. "I think I'll call it the Zapper." He declared, admiring how the sun gleamed on its shiny surface. "You can name it whatever you want, but we really should be getting to New Leaf Town." Falco reminded him. Hastily nodding, Captain N joined Falco and Zelda in following Pit to the warp zone.

The group hike continued past the town and through the same green hills, with Captain N being too preoccupied taking in the scenery to converse with his teammates, as well as still feeling too out of place to consider them more than co-workers. Eventually, a group of large, green pipes sticking out of the ground came into view, with a vacant tollbooth in front of the pipes and signs next to each pipe. "Here we are!" Pit announced, turning back to the three others. "So... what do these do?" Captain N asked Pit. "Oh, right! It's simple, you just jump into one of them and it'll take you to where you want to go!" Pit explained. "...That's it?" Captain N asked. "That's it! Simple as that!" Pit answered.

Zelda walked over to the pipes, reading the signs. Falco idly looked inside the tollbooth, finding nothing of note. Captain N followed Zelda, getting a better look at the pipes. Despite how closely he looked, they were just big, green pipes. Apart from their sheer size, nothing stood out about them. They were smooth to the touch, so either they're made of some tough material or they get cleaned regularly. "Found it! Come here!" Zelda announced, motioning towards a specific pipe. Pit, Captain N and Falco quickly gathered, where Captain N noticed the sign read "To New Leaf Town". "I'll go first!" Pit declared, shooting up in the air and diving down into the pipe before anyone could object. A strange gulping sound accompanied Pit descending into the pipe, which made Captain N even more uneasy. "Looks like Cap here's got some cold feet, so I'll get going." Falco stated, climbing up the pipe and then diving down into it, the same gulping sound coming from the pipe. Captain N was left awkwardly standing with Zelda, wanting to go ahead, but not so sure about it. "...I'll go next." Captain N eventually spoke up, still standing in place. Zelda moved to look Captain N in the eyes, clearly concerned. "I completely understand your situation, Peter. I can't imagine how lost and alone you must feel, but I assure you we will be here to guide you on this quest." She spoke, sympathizing with him. Captain N nodded, climbed up the pipe, summoned the nerve to stick the Zapper in his right pocket, and after saying a silent prayer to himself, he jumped down.

The descent down into the warp pipe was incredibly rapid, and soon Captain N's view was pitch-black. The gulping sound only repeated three times, and after that the only sound to accompany the venture through the pipe was the air rushing past his ears. The further down he went, the colder the air around him became. He tried not to panic, being trapped in this seemingly never-ending pipe. Captain N closed his eyes and tried to send his mind to a more pleasant place. But before he could decide to focus on either his Middle School graduation or his last trip to the beach, the air around him suddenly became much warmer, the three gulping sounds ringed once more, and Captain N shot out of the pipe, falling on the dirt in front of the pipe. Thankfully, the Zapper had remained in his pocket throughout his little expedition, and hadn't been shot either. Taking a moment to adjust his eyes to the sudden sunlight and making sure which direction was down, Captain N carefully stood up, finding Falco and Pit standing close by.

"I'd give that a 3, what do you think, Pit?" Falco remarked. Pit shook his head, frowning at Falco.

"It was his first time using a warp pipe, I think he did great!" Pit shot back.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah! He could've vomited!"

Before they could keep going, Zelda emerged from the pipe, landing much more gracefully than Captain N. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" She asked Captain N. In response, he mulled over the overall experience briefly before concluding that, yes, all things considered, it could have been worse. Nodding in agreement, Captain N removed the Zapper from his pocket and joined Zelda, Pit and Falco on the small hill nearby. The view from the grassy hill revealed a steep decline, with a small town visible in the distance. "That's New Leaf Town, we'll find Simon Belmont there." Zelda informed Captain N.

"Wait, so who's Simon Belmont and how do we know he's here?" Captain N asked the group.

"Simon Belmont is a famous vampire hunter, who's defeated Dracula tons of times before!" Pit replied eagerly, turning to face Captain N.

"Dracula? Really?" Captain N asked, surprised by hearing a familiar name for the first time since arriving.

"Yup! Why, is he in your home world too?"

"...Kind of. Back where I'm from, he's a fictional book character."

"Well, here he's the real deal, so you better watch yourself." Falco warned.

"As for how we know he's here, Simon is a common visitor to New Leaf Town, and his arrival is commonly followed with a delivery of copious amounts of steak. Deliveries to New Leaf Town must pass through the Mushroom Kingdom first, and we found a large amount of raw steak in the most recent delivery, a few days ago." Zelda further explained. "How can Dracula be defeated more than once? I'm really confused." Captain N asked further. "Dracula can be revived after a period of time, so it's likely we'' run into him in Castlevania if we're not careful. Now, Castlevania's exact location can be difficult to determine, but again, it will be made simpler with Simon's aid." Zelda answered. Falco was leaning against a nearby tree, clearly impatient to keep going and get to town.

"I'm sorry if I'm asking a lot of questions." Captain N apologized meekly. "Hey, no worries! This is all new to you! It's good you're with us!" Pit interjected, with Zelda nodding in agreement. "Besides, there has to be a point where you're not asking questions." Falco snarked over his shoulder. "Save your comments, Lombardi." Zelda shot at him. "Whatever, let's just get going." Falco shrugged, turning back to New Leaf Town. After being joined by Zelda, Captain N and Pit at the tree, the four carefully make their way down the steep hill towards New Leaf Town.