#and i look over and there's a bug in a very precarious location

[skitskatdacat63]

I want to go to sleep but there is a centipede that had been stock still above my bed for literally like 4 hours, what is he planning....

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada  is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​ @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...

[dinfeanoriel]

Missing Legend Pt. III

If you haven’t figured it out already, I am obsessed with Linked Universe. Check them out if you haven’t already! Linked Universe belongs to the one and only Jojo56830 and Linked Universe. Here is Part III of my Missing Legend series! I honestly hadn’t planned on it being this long, but, eh. 

I own nothing but my writing! 

Please enjoy!

~~~~~~~

Dawn slowly crept in on the slumbering Heroes, ambient rays of varying hues shining down from above and chasing away the lingering darkness. 

All was peaceful. The birds and animals of the forest were just starting to wake, filling the morning with pleasant chirping and faint skittering sounds. 

Surprisingly enough, it was Wind who began to stir first. Normally, it would be either Warrior or Twilight, followed closely by Time and Wild. Today, however, it was Wind. 

The young sailor’s eyes blearily blinked open as consciousness slowly began to return to him. He gave a wide yawn, extending his arms up into the air above his head and stretching his legs. Once finished, and now more wide awake than before, Wind dropped his limbs against the ground. 

He flinched when his hand struck something next to his head and turned to see what he’d hit. When he caught a glimpse of what exactly he’d accidentally smacked, Wind felt sheer and utter terror grip his entire being. 

“WARRIOR!” 

The terrified shriek pierced the tranquil atmosphere that encompassed the encampment, shattering it into pieces. Warrior snapped awake, bolting upwards and dagger in hand, ready to jump to Wind’s defense without thought or hesitation. He wasn’t given any time to react when his arms were suddenly full of a quaking sailor as Wind held onto him for dear life. 

Everyone else startled violently awake. Hyrule cried out in alarm and scrambled back when he came face to face with the scariest skeleton mask in the history of Hyrule! It’s soulfire red eyes seemed to peer through his very soul! Sky released a shout and became tangled up in his bedroll when he looked to find the most hideous and frightening bug-like mask bearing three beady eyes at the top, incredibly sharp teeth, along with vicious and bent horns. 

Wild had shot up when the commotion started, automatically grabbing for Skittles in order to protect him from harm. He flew back against the log behind him when his eyes fell on a monster-like mask with a gaping mouth complete with large, jagged teeth. He snatched Skittles up and kicked the freaky mask away with his foot, leaving it for Wolfie to take care of. 

Wolfie had leaped to his feet, teeth bared in a snarl. He widened his stance, ready to defend his cub and Skittles from an unwarranted attack and instantly dove for the mask when Wild kicked it aside. He tossed his head, throwing the mask as far as possible from them without care or thought.

Time jolted up and recoiled when he struck his head against the pointed end of his armor that had been precariously balanced above him for precisely that purpose. The set of armor clattered to the ground, the discordant sound resonating and startling the Heroes anew as they struggled to understand what in Hylia’s name was going on. 

Time took a moment to analyze the chaos and confusion, watching as Hyrule and Sky slowly reached for the unmoving masks and Warrior attempted to pry the petrified Wind off of him. 

“It’s alright, Wind,” He could hear Warrior soothing the sailor, “It’s just a mask,” The Knight grabbed the offensive mask and threw it towards Four. The smallest Hero made a disconcerted face and inched away from it. 

Understanding dawned on the eldest Hero and he lunged for his pack. He dug through it, a fierce scowl on his lips and eye positively murderous when he connected the dots. He straightened and slowly rounded on the all too innocent, fluffy, and pink bunny watching them with satisfaction from Wild’s lap. He stood, ominous thunderclouds looming around him as he stalked over. Before anyone could react, his hand snapped out at lightening speed and grabbed Skittles from Wild’s grasp. He lifted the rabbit high in the air to lock eyes. 

“Where did you put them?” He lowly demanded, voice bordering on a growl. Skittles merely tilted his head, nose twitching. 

Time didn’t fall for it. 

“Where are the other masks and my wife?” 

Skittles gave him a frank, are-you-stupid, look. He’s a bunny for crying out loud! He couldn’t answer! 

“I know you can understand me and I know you know what you’ve done,” Time gave Skittles a little shake, the rabbit dangling in the air, “Now where are they?” 

Skittles remained unaffected. He’d faced more terrifying foes. 

“I am giving you ‘til the count of three,” Time warned, purposefully ignoring the snickering coming from around him. 

“Pops,” Wind giggled, “He’s just a rabbit!” 

“A perfectly aware and intelligent rabbit,” Time returned, never once looking away from Skittles. 

Four blinked and glanced away from Time and Skittles to the mask he’d discovered next to his pillow. 

“I’ve got one of your masks,” He yawned, picking it up and displaying it for all to see. Time turned and his eye marginally widened. He promptly dropped Skittles and crossed the distance between himself and Four quickly. 

The Couples’ Mask, Time muttered inwardly, collecting it from Four. Wild dove to rescue Skittles from his fall, swiping him into his arms and gently setting him down. His lips were twitching though he did his best to fix his furry companion with a stern look. 

“Skittles, Skittles,” He tutted, wagging a finger. Skittles shrugged, not at all concerned for his life that was now hanging by a thread. Instead, the nonchalant bunny rifled through Wild’s pack, pulling out a familiar frame. Wild’s eyes comically widened. 

“Skittles!” He scolded in a fierce whisper, blue eyes darting to Time then back. Time happened to turn at that precise moment and saw exactly what Skittles was currently in possession of. The Couples’ Mask no longer mattered. 

“Why you-” 

Skittles made a small ‘eep!’ sound and darted away, frame held high above his head as Time all but sprinted after him. 

“Come back here you little rascal!” 

Wind fell back against Warrior, gales of laughter spilling from his lips and arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as Time chased after the speedy rabbit. 

Who knew the Old Man could run so fast? 

Skittles clutched the picture of Malon in his paws, running in circles around the dying campfire and hopping over the giggling Heroes. 

Warrior snorted and Hyrule was unable to muffle his own amusement at the sight. Sky was curled up on his side, completely incapacitated from laughing too hard. 

Wild had to hold onto Wolfie in order to remain upright as they watched their typically calm and collected, stoic, leader pursue the mischievous and impish Skittles. 

Wolfie was shaking, head bowed as he laughed. It was a weird sound coming from the great beast, but Wild recognized it for what it was. 

Warrior completely lost it when Time swooped down to snatch the fleeing rabbit he’d finally caught up to when Skittles suddenly skidded to a stop, veered around, and bolted towards Time. He collided into the Old Man’s feet, causing Time to flail wildly and crumple into an undignified heap on the ground with a startled grunt. 

Four fell off the log he was perched on, swiping at the tears gathering in his eyes. The look on Time’s face! 

Priceless! 

Time recovered quickly and drew himself to his knees, his head whipping round to find Skittles racing to safety, the picture still raised above his head. 

The camp roared with laughter at the comical sight.  

The leader couldn’t believe it. Had he just been outsmarted by a rabbit?

Oh no... That was unacceptable. 

“Skittles!” Time shot after the scampering animal. “You are as good as dead, you little runt!” 

Once he caught him, that was. 

Skittles skillfully continued to evade him, his feet just barely grazing the ground as he fled. The framed picture of Malon remained safe and sound above his head between his ears. 

He’d never known true fear until he looked to see the positively murderous and Legendary Hero of Time at his heels. 

~~~~~~~

No one knew how much time had passed until the chase had drawn to an end. Skittles lay wheezing pathetically in Wild’s arms, struggling to catch his breath. He’d never exerted himself so much before, but he’d been worried about being caught by Time. Now he knew why the eldest Link had been chosen by Hylia. 

He was downright terrifying! 

Chuckles and chortles could still be heard from the other Links as Wild smoothed Skittles’ fur and gave the animal time to recover. Time had retrieved his picture when Skittles hid in a hollow tree and refused to come out unless Time promised not to kill him. 

He’d slid the framed picture through the hole first before attempting a mad dash for Wild. Wolfie had nudged his head with his snout almost affectionately, weirding Skittles out a bit, but he could care less at the moment. 

Time had tucked the picture safely into one of the pockets in his pack, fixing the devilish rabbit with a one-eyed glare. Sky noted it didn’t hold any resentment or irritation. 

“Alright, everyone,” Time cleared his throat, standing and shouldering his pack, “Pull yourselves together.” 

He received muffled snorts and laughs in response. The corner of his lips twitched upwards, but surely, they’d only imagined that. Wind was still smiling widely, teeth flashing in the sunlight. It pleased the other Heroes to see it. 

Hyrule wore a slight grin, but it faded when he lifted Legend’s pack up and placed it atop his own. 

Today, they’d agreed to head out once more to try and locate their friend, and Hyrule couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen that might ruin that plan. He tried to quash it down and ignore it, but it would come back with a vengeance. He played it off as paranoia. 

“Wolfie,” Time called, and when the wolf turned to him, he could see the laughter shining in those eyes. “Fetch Twilight if you would.” 

“Aw, Twilight missed out on all of the fun!” Wind realized, watching Wolfie disappear into the forest. Warrior ruffled his hair with a smirk, 

“Then I guess you’ll have to tell him all that went down.” 

Wind cheered up immediately. He started forward but was pulled back by Warrior’s hand on his shoulder, 

“Ah, ah!” The Knight tutted, “We need to fix your hair fist. It is a mess! Honestly, you would think- are those twigs? How did you manage that?” 

Wind rolled his eyes but obediently sat on a log and allowed Warrior to tackle his sleep tousled hair. 

Twilight had returned by the time Warrior was done and Wind was satisfied with the results. The blue-clad Hero pounced him the instant he stepped foot in the camp and enthusiastically recounted the tale- gestures and playacting included. It was moments like these that the Heroes were reminded of just how young and pure Wind was. He hadn’t allowed his adventure to diminish his bright personality or unshakable faith. 

Twilight met Time’s eye with a raised eyebrow. Time narrowed his eye in return. 

“All that fuss over a pink bunny,” Twilight teased when he sidled up next to his mentor. 

Time crossed his arms, “I will have you know that Wild’s pink bunny is more trouble than he’s worth.” He groused, watching Wild stand with Skittles. He refrained from rolling his eye at the dramatic bunny that was currently dying in Wild’s arms. 

Yes, that bunny was definitely more trouble than he was worth...

But, seeing the faint grins lining the younger ones’ lips and the rejuvenation of the others’ spirits, Time supposed he was fine with it. 

~~~~~~~

Time was in the process of fixing his boots before they would head off  when he felt a paw settle on his leg. He glanced down to see a contrite Skittles shyly peering up at him. 

He quirked an eyebrow at the rabbit and when Skittles ducked his head apologetically, expelled a breath and shook his head. 

“You are one irksome rabbit,” The Hero muttered, and Skittles slapped a paw to his chest, stumbling back as though wounded. Time smothered a smile at the over-exaggerated gesture. A large hand settled on Skittles’ head and the rabbit’s ears perked up when he looked at Time again, “But I must thank you.” 

Skittles inclined his head, confused. 

Time indicated to the Heroes busy packing up camp, his expression softening in something akin to fondness, “You lifted their mood considerably and made them laugh. I don’t think I have ever seen them smile or laugh as much as they did this morning.” 

Skittles followed his line of sight. Time huffed in amusement when Wind tackled Warrior and Warrior stumbled from the unanticipated “attack.” Warrior griped good-naturedly, a smile belying his words. 

The leader hummed thoughtfully, gaze sliding down to the rabbit, “Perhaps you are a blessing in disguise...” 

Skittles made a noise that Time correctly identified as a scoff and looked away, embarrassed. 

“We lost a friend of ours,” Time quietly said, regaining the rabbit’s attention, “Not two days past.” 

He released a heavy sigh, draping an arm over his knee and staring into the shadows of the forest with a troubled look, “We haven’t been able to find any sign of him. It has been difficult for them...for us.” 

Skittles placed his paws on Time’s knees, nose quivering. His eyes were dark and troubled, ears drooped as he tried his best to assure the Hero that they would find their friend.

There was also a flicker of indecision that crossed those expressive eyes, but it was gone in a flash.

Time crossed it off as his imagination and gave the rabbit a couple of pats in thanks before rising. 

“Are we ready?” He asked the group. He received a positive response from everyone and dipped his chin in satisfaction, “Good, then let us go.” 

Skittles hopped after Time, choosing to accompany him as they began their search anew. 

Wild and Twilight shared a curious look but shrugged it off. 

And if Time took pity on the struggling rabbit and picked him up to place him into his pack hours into their search, no one said a thing. 

~~~~~~~

For those of you who want to know, Wind woke to the Gibdo mask; Sky the Twinmold Remains; Wild Gyorg’s Remains; and Hyrule the Captain’s Hat from Majora’s Mask. 

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Leviathan Rising (But like, not THAT Leviathan Rising)

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K+/T Summary: Someone’s after Supergirl! ...Oh, no, wait. They’re after...Kara Danvers? And Kara decides to play along. A/N: I have blatantly ripped off the plot of Bendis’ recent Leviathan Rising Superman Special to write a lil’ season five ‘what if’ fic. So uh. Spoilers, kinda? For the comic, and some season four stuff.

...

Kara was several blocks away from her apartment when she noticed that something was...off.

She paused, and made a show of fumbling for her phone, all the while listening intently to the group of...five? six? armed people currently gathered in her apartment.

“Maintain positions. Intel says she should be back within the hour.”

She frowned and took a deep breath, trying not to betray the sudden panic rising in her chest. Thoughts of Lex Luthor—specifically, his knowledge of her secret identity—flashed through her mind. She continued to stare at her lock screen while she focused her hearing on Alex's apartment, J'onn's office, L-Corp...

Nothing nefarious. Alex and Kelly were helping J'onn reorganize his bookshelves, and Lena was working late (again) but otherwise...no heavy boot falls. No hushed whispering of orders to 'maintain positions.'

She breathed a small sigh of relief, and listened back in on her own apartment, to see if she could learn anything more.

They weren't making much noise, and no one else in the building seemed to know they were there. So...professionals, probably. She glanced up from her phone and squinted in the direction of her building—to anyone else on the street, it would look like she was merely staring off into empty space.

X-ray and telescopic vision revealed light body armor—

She blinked. ...Light body armor?

She squinted again. They had weapons, but...they all looked fairly...standard. No power-dampening rods. No kryptonite...nothing that could subdue a Kryptonian.

And then it dawned on her.

She hastily returned her focus to her phone, and actually dialed this time, bringing the device up to her ear.

Alex answered on the second ring.

“Yeah?” Her sister's greeting was short, and it sounded as though Kara had caught her mid-laugh. She could hear J'onn and Kelly chuckling in the background as well.

“Hey. Uh...got a sec?” Kara asked, but she didn't wait to hear Alex's answer as she resumed walking down the street. “I think...I'm about to be kidnapped.”

Alex's laughter tapered off right quick.

“...What?”

“Or, abducted, I guess?” She came to a stop at the intersection, and waited patiently for the 'Walk' signal.  “There's like...six guys in my apartment right now. And I don't think they're there to steal my Ikea furniture.”

“Well...well do you need backup? Should I have J'onn—” Alex started to ask.

“No! No—I don't think...” Kara dropped her voice. “I don't think they know I'm Supergirl.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh.” Alex said, sounding a little...underwhelmed? “That's...different.”

“Right?”

“So...they're after...Kara Danvers?”

“I think so—they don't really seem...equipped, to handle a Kryptonian.” Kara couldn't keep the amusement from her voice as she said it—it was something of an understatement, really.

“So you're saying it's going to be a short fight.”

Kara hummed as she approached the entrance of her building.

“I dunno...I'm thinking I might go along with it?” She could hear her sister start to protest. “Think about it, Alex! If I just...knock them out, then we never learn why they were after me in the first place!” She had a few ideas; her “Aliens of National City” series had garnered quite a bit of praise, and even a few awards, but it had also earned her more than a few enemies. There were still plenty of Children of Liberty sympathizers out there, not at all deterred by the fact that the entire movement had been orchestrated by a genocidal psychopath.

“That's why we interrogate them, Kara.”

“I don't think NCPD is going to let us do that, Alex,” Kara reminded her. Alex huffed on the other end of the line.

“So I get the DEO to intervene.”

“And make Haley suspicious all over again? Alex, no.” Kara said it perhaps a bit more firmly than was strictly necessary, but Alex's sigh was understanding, as opposed to annoyed; neither of them wanted wanted to tempt fate, and risk a repeat of the memory wipe. Haley was much more agreeable now, certainly, and they would both just as soon keep it that way. “This is actually...much safer, if you think about it.”

“I am thinking about it, and it's a bad idea, Kara.”

“How is it a bad idea?” Kara demanded, “it's not like they can hurt me! And—look. I'll even put in my comm. They won't be looking for it—that way, we can keep in touch, and! Worst case scenario, you can track me. But there won't even be a worst case scenario,” she argued, already reaching into her coat pocket for the small, DEO-issued earpiece. “Okay, see? Comm is on. And in my ear.”

Alex grunted.

“I don't like this.”

“It will be fine.”

“...Whatever. You hail me on the comm the minute things go south, alright?”

“Things won't go south.”

“Kara.”

“Okay! Okay,” Kara agreed. “I gotta go. I don't see any bugs, but I'd rather play it safe. See! I'm being careful.”

“Honestly? I'm not worried about you not being careful. It's your terrible acting that has me concerned—”

Kara scoffed.

“My acting is great. Just ask Franklin.”

“Ten bucks says they see through it in under a minute.”

“I'm hanging up now.”

“What's—oh, J'onn says thirty seconds, and Kelly—”

“You guys are hilarious. Bye!” Kara hit the 'end call' button before any further snide comments could be made about her acting ability. She silently debated whether she should put her phone in her pocket, or her purse. She didn't really want these guys going through her coat, but then, they'd probably check it regardless.

She climbed the stairs to her apartment, all the while going over the specifics of her entrance. How fast was too fast, in terms of turning the key in the lock? Should she put her purse on the side table before, or after turning on the light? Should she turn the light on at all? Oh, maybe they'd cut the power...that's how it usually went. ...In movies, anyway.

Once she reached her floor, she cast a quick glance at her apartment. Her earlier estimate of six was correct—two huddled in the kitchen, two in the living room, and two in the bedroom. All more or less hiding...well, she was sure they'd all consider it really effective hiding. And it probably was, if they'd been dealing with someone who didn't have x-ray vision.

She dug through her purse for her keys, and dropped them for good measure. They clattered loudly against the concrete flooring in the hall—she complained equally loudly about dropping them.

“Gosh darn it!” she said.

“Get ready,” she heard the nearest abductor command. She smiled to herself, before replacing it with an annoyed frown as she jiggled the keys in the lock.

“Gosh darn keys, gosh darn door,” she muttered, making sure it was under her breath and directed at herself. She couldn't let on that she knew anyone was actually in the apartment.

The door swung open; a rectangle of orange light spilled into the darkened dining area. She set her purse aside, and went to turn on the lights.

The switch clicked on, but the apartment remained dark.

Knew it, she thought, somewhat smugly.

She flicked the switch a few times, and sighed in exasperation.

“I just replaced these bulbs,” she could hear them behind her. She shook her head, and started to turn. “That's what I get for buying off brand—oh, God!” She yelled, loud, but not too loud—she didn't want to endanger any of her neighbors by drawing them with necessary, over-dramatic screams.

Her abductors seemed to have the same idea. The one closest to her surged forward, and clamped a gloved hand on her mouth. A taser dug into her side. It was...uncomfortable, but very clearly calibrated for a human.

“It's not working!”

“What??”

Kara mentally cringed. She'd been so caught up in putting on a convincing performance, she'd forgotten to let the taser ‘knock her out.’

“Well, increase the voltage then!”

“No, no! Not that high, you idiot, we want her ali—”

The second round was definitely stronger. She yelped, and made a show of slumping to her knees, before pitching forward on the floor. A slight buzzing sounded in her right ear.

...Odd... she thought. She was fine, so why—

“Check her pockets. And her pulse,” one of them ordered. She bit back an annoyed huff as one of them pawed at her coat (and her neck, in that order)—just as unpleasant as she'd imagined.

The buzzing was really starting to concern her. What was that?

“Alright, get the zip ties and hood, and let's move out.” Her hands were roughly wrenched behind her, and a coarse, dark hood was thrown over her face. Her glasses were knocked askew, but remained on her nose, if somewhat precariously. That was good.

What was less good, was the realization as to what that buzzing sound was.

The comm.

The taser had been dialed up, and had fried the electronics.

As the mysterious abductors dragged her from her apartment (“Aw, geez, she's...she's really heavy? What is she, all muscle or something?”) all she could think about...was how pissed Alex was going to be.

Pretending to be dead weight was much harder than Kara anticipated.

“Would you quit—you're gonna drop her—!”

“I told you, she's really—”

“Just let me do it—oh. Uh. She is...wow, she is like. Solid.”

“That's what I said!”

“Where does a nationally-recognized journalist find the time to get jacked—”

“Enough. Set her down on the chair already!”

Kara had to fight against the reflexive urge to tense as they maneuvered her into an upright position on a flimsy, but most definitely uncomfortable folding chair. As she slumped forward, straining against the zip ties, she listened for any other clues as to her location.

...Lots of...rushing water? In pipes, it sounds like. That wasn't a problem, necessarily, but the constant sound of water would make it hard to pick up other sounds, if she wasn't actively searching for them.

Still. Not a big deal.

Someone roughly yanked the hood off her head. She was bent forward, so she hoped no one would see as she scrunched her nose, in an attempt to keep her glasses in place. Then again, if anyone noticed, or commented, she could pretend to be coming around. The place certainly smelled like it was somewhere wet—the damp, dank scent of mildew permeated her sinuses. Her reaction was, in a way, almost genuine.

“Should we wake her up?”

“Nah, let the boss handle that.”

Kara listened as the sound of their footsteps over wet concrete gradually faded. She remained bent forward, 'unconscious', and wondered how long she'd have to hold her position. Her muscles wouldn't fatigue and strain, the way a human's might—but it would potentially seem strange to her captors, if this went on for too long. She'd have to...maybe slump in the other direction, or...?

Fortunately, she didn't have to internally deliberate on that topic any further, as a new pair of footsteps drew closer. And closer still, until the new stranger was standing directly in front of her.

Another set of footsteps followed, but whoever that was hung back a bit. Something snapped...like a clasp on a...case?

“Alright, give that to me. We're going to wake her up.”

Or like a clasp on a holster, Kara thought, and started to fidget. She didn't want to have to explain why the gun shattered when they tried to pistol whip her.

“Uh...wha...huh?” she blinked and shook her head. There was that snap sound again—they'd holstered the gun. “Wha...where...?” She looked around and sat up. Slowly, of course. “Oh. Oh God—”

“Now now, Miss Danvers, there's no need to panic.” Kara stared at the woman she had to assume was 'the boss.' Tall, tan, and...was that...was that an eye patch? “You're safe. For now.”

No. Upon closer inspection—Kara threw in some exaggerated wincing and squinting—it looked more like a kind of...metal plate, fitted close to the woman's skin.

“Where am I?” Kara asked. That was...that was a good first question, for this kind of situation, right?

“Still in America,” the woman answered. “I'm afraid I can't be any more specific.”

“How...how do I know...you aren't lying?” Kara countered, adding a slight tremor to her words.

“You don't,” the woman said with a shrug. “But I will say this: I'm not really interested in you, Miss Danvers. So I don't see the point in lying. Much less effort to simply be a bit...vague.”

“They just arrived with the package, Miss Bordeaux,” the woman's associate spoke up. Kara looked over at him for the first time, and was shocked to see just who it was.

“Floyd Lawton?” Kara exclaimed, with genuine surprise.

“Ah. I see you're...familiar, with my friend, here.” The woman—or, Bordeaux, as Floyd had called her—didn't seem too concerned. But Floyd certainly didn't look happy. He scowled at Kara.

“It’s Deadshot,” he snarled.

Kara was going to press for more information, starting with how Floyd—Deadshot—escaped from prison, seemingly unnoticed,  but at that point, a trio of...guards, maybe? arrived with a large metal case.

“I'm going to apologize in advance, Kara. May I call you Kara?”

No. “I don't—”

“You weren't exactly our first choice of hostage. In fact, you weren't even on the list,” Bordeaux explained as she nodded to the guards. One of them lifted the metal case, while the other moved to open it. Kara eyed it with her x-ray vision, and was dismayed to discover that it was lined with lead. That was never a good sign. “Lena Luthor. James Olsen. Your sister. They were on the list. You? You were. A last minute suggestion. Provided by a mutual acquaintance, actually. Snapper Carr.”

Kara, who, up until this very point, had been making sure to appear out of sorts, suddenly found herself sitting bolt upright, her heart hammering in her chest.

“What?”

Bordeaux ignored her question. “You've seen the headlines lately, right? Of course you have; you’re a reporter. ‘Mysterious 'Leviathan' Strikes Again’.”

Kara was still stuck on Snapper. Snapper? What...had they kidnapped Snapper too? Or...or...oh Rao. Was Snapper...working for them?

Whoever this 'them' was?

“I...I've...yes,” Kara said, though in all honesty, it wasn't exactly something on her radar. Neither hers, nor Supergirl's. All the reports seemed to indicate that 'Leviathan' was just...a criminal organization. Like Intergang, minus the stolen alien tech.

Leviathan was on her to-do list, sure.

...But it was. Low on her to-do list.

“I want Leviathan,” Bordeaux said as a guard pulled the lid from the case. Kara nearly groaned out loud as a green glow shined from within. “And Leviathan wants Supergirl. You see where I'm going with this, right?”

Not really. “So, you...?” Kara could feel her stomach start to churn, and that terrible, terrible burn. “You...you want...”

“Snapper said you know the Girl of Steel. That you have some way of contacting her, to get interviews.” The guard withdrew what looked like a fairly standard flak jacket. But situated in the center was a large chunk of—what else!—kryptonite. “But even if you didn't, I'm willing to be she'd bet the first person your network of associates would call in the event of your capture.”

“She...she won't come. She'll...know it's a trap,” Kara argued feebly. She no longer had to pretend to be weak and worried. She was now both.

“...How unfortunate for you,” Bordeaux shrugged as she nodded to the guards. They cut the zip ties from her wrists, and wrangled her into the flak jacket, before cuffing her again.

Kara was frantically going over her options, even as a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She'd fought through kryptonite poisoning before. She...she could get out of this, but she'd have to wait. Wait until they left her alone.

But...wait. Why... why had she said...’unfortunate?’

The sound of rushing water grew louder.

Kara's shoulders drooped. Oh.

That was why.

“We'll make sure to drain the room once Supergirl arrives,” Bordeaux assured her as water began to bubble up from the grates in the floor. “It was nice meeting you, Kara. Oh! And if you could do me a small favor...”

Kara swallowed audibly as Bordeaux leaned close, and smiled.

“Tell Supergirl...Checkmate.”

With that, Bordeaux and her men left the room, slamming the door shut with a resounding THUD. Kara could both hear and see the metal locks sliding into place.

Not a problem. Not a problem.

She repeated that to herself, over and over, as the water level continued to rise, and as the kryptonite sat heavy and hot on her chest. She'd broken out of chains. Taken a bullet to the shoulder! All while exposed to kryptonite. This...this was nothing!

She experimentally tugged at her restraints. Standard metal cuffs. Okay. Okay! She...she could do this.

She gritted her teeth as she felt the water pool around her ankles. Focus. Focus.

She grunted and pulled her arms apart, as far as her strength would allow.

...Nothing.

She huffed angrily, blowing a stray bit of hair out of her face. The kryptonite continued to make her entire body throb in pain. Rao damn it, she hated this stuff.

Again, she told herself, mustering strength and yanking at the cuffs.

Nothing.

Again!

Nothing.

Again!

*Clink*

Kara grinned. The water was up to her knees, but she felt the metal start to give. She took a deep breath. One more time.

She pulled against the cuffs. The metal piece holding them together snapped. She nearly laughed in relief. She was free!

...Kind of.

She fumbled with the straps on the vest, her movements clumsy and slow, but she eventually managed to tug it off.

She looked around, trying to find a place to throw it. Or...maybe put it back in the lead lined case? Yeah, that would probably be best place for it...

She looked around the small room, which was still rapidly filling with water. It was now above her waist. The guards...they had left the case, right?

She took a deep breath and plunged under the cold water, and forced her eyes open. The water was murky, and the room wasn't exactly well lit...but a quick, cursory glance revealed that...the case was nowhere to be found.

Kara surfaced, and sputtered.

“Great,” she hissed. “Just. Perfect.”

She threw the vest as far away from her as she could manage. It wasn't a large room; it did not go far. She could still feel the rock's effects.

Ignore it. Push it down. Fight through it. She told herself. She needed to find a way out of this room. The door, obviously, seemed like the obvious choice.

But she could hear guards. She squinted at the door. Maybe, if she could time it right, when the hallway was clear...

Her x-ray vision flickered. She saw...maybe two or three guards before that particular power gave out completely.

Okay, so. That option was probably a no. She didn't feel like explaining how Kara Danvers managed to escape from handcuffs and knock down a solid metal door.

She shook her head. If only there was a convenient window to jump out of.

...Or. Maybe. Out wasn't the operative word, but rather, up.

She eyed the ceiling. That...would be messy. But these guys were counting on Supergirl to show up, right? So...a little hole in the ceiling would be easy to explain away. Expected, even.

It would take a lot of her reserves of strength, though. It would kinda be...a 'one shot' situation.

She balled her fists, and made up her mind.

Here we go.

She jumped, rather than flew, hoping to retain just enough strength to remain mostly invulnerable as she tore through the concrete above.

She braced for the hit, but whatever she'd been expecting—Rebar, metal pipes, electrical wires—it was not what slammed into her at full, icy force, sending her tumbling back down in a watery spiral.

As she floundered and winced and struggled to surface, she realized that the 'rushing water' sound had not been coming from pipes.

The facility itself...was completely submerged.

ELSEWHERE, EARLIER

Alex wasn't worried.

Alex wasn't worried, because these past several months had taught her something: she could trust that her loved ones could take care of themselves. She didn't have to...have to constantly concern herself with their safety.

So she wasn't worried.

...Definitely, totally not worried.

“You're worried,” Kelly said, in an accusing tone.

“...Only a little,” Alex countered, and took a sip of wine. J'onn chuckled.

“That's progress,” he said, admiring his newly reorganized bookshelves. “I'm sure Kara's fine, Alex.”

“I know,” Alex said, and when Kelly raised an incredulous eyebrow, she insisted, “I do! I know she's probably fine! Logically. Emotionally, I'm still. Not quite. ...There yet. But I will. Get there. Promise.” Both J'onn and Kelly shared a knowing look, but didn't question Alex's assurance. “...I shouldn't check her comm, right? No. Of course not. Because she’s fine.”

“Check her comm, Alex. If only so you see how ridiculous you're being,” J'onn said as he sat down at his desk. Alex rolled her eyes, and grabbed her phone.

She was in the process of pulling up her secured DEO connection when the screen lit up with an incoming call.

LENA LUTHOR

Alex frowned. Lena?

She hit the green 'answer' button and greeted her friend. “Hi...Lena? What—”

“Someone's using kryptonite,” came the flat, quick reply. Alex blinked, caught entirely off guard.

“What are you—kryptonite? What—”

“Given the nature of...some of my research...I thought it best to install something similar to the DEO's K-radiation detection system—a far more advanced, precise detection system, obviously. And that system picked up trace amounts of K-radiation, within a hundred miles of the coast. So I thought...I should let you know.”

“Oh, that's...okay. Thanks, I...” it took Alex a moment to process the information, especially considering she hadn't really be expecting a call like this. But she found herself less interested in the revelation of k-radiation usage...and far more concerned with Lena's...almost apathetic? tone. “I'll...I'll have the DEO look into it. But, Lena...are you...alright? You sound...weird...”

“I'm fine,” Lena said sharply, “...I have to go.”

The call ended before Alex could say goodbye.

“...That...was definitely weird,” Alex muttered. J'onn leaned forward.

“What are you going to have the DEO look into, Alex?” he asked. Alex shook her head.

“K-radiation. Somewhere off the coast. I...oh, great, I didn't think to ask—” Alex didn't finish her thought; a text message with coordinates popped up on her phone. “...Never mind.”

“K-radiation? Should you warn Kara?” Both Kelly and J'onn were standing.

“...Yeah. Yes. Yes,” Alex told herself she could deal with Lena’s weird behavior later, and focused instead on the current problem. “Here, I'll pull up her comm, and—”

The secured DEO connection was up and running, displaying a list of active communication devices.

Kara's wasn't on it.

“...Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Alex grumbled. J'onn, who was by now looking over her shoulder at her phone screen, and shook his head.

“Well. I guess you were right to worry.”

SOMEWHERE UNDER WATER, NOW

So. That had gone...badly.

Water was now coming up from below, and spilling in from above.

And there was kryptonite floating around...somewhere. It was too dark to see, and Kara was too busy treading water to look for it. Treading water, and trying to decide the best course of action.

She could just...risk her secret identity, and break down the door...but that wouldn't change the fact that the facility would continue to flood, due to the, ah...leak that she’d caused, AND she'd have to deal with guards. Many, many guards.

The other option was...attempt to swim up and out. Deceptively simple. No guards, no risk of exposing her secret identity...

But it would be swimming. Which meant holding her breath, and working against the crushing force of the incoming water AND the increased pressure that came with being this far below sea level.

She was already at half strength. And while she might have retained some of her invulnerability...Kryptonians still had to breathe, for all of their other impressive, super-human abilities.

So. Door, or swim?

Precious seconds were ticking by. She was already basically out of time, with just inches of space left above water.

Well, the more distance I put between me and the kryptonite, the greater chance I have of...not dying...Kara reasoned, taking one last gulp of air before she was really out of time.

The cold water closed in, and now she could see, at least a bit more clearly, the menacing glow of the kryptonite below.

Which cinched it.

She pushed up against the crushing pressure, kicking as hard as her remaining strength would allow.

This is fine, this is fine...just a quick swim, she told herself, even as she felt the acute crush against her rib cage. And that intense press on her lungs drew her entire focus—she couldn't think about how far underwater she was, or where in the world the facility was located. 'Still in America,' if Bordeaux was to be believed. So. Not international waters.

Doesn't matter...if you can't make it...to the surface...Kara thought desperately. Her muscles ached, and her body was telling her, hey...oxygen would be great.

Could Kryptonians get the bends? No, no—Clark kept a spare Fortress in the Bermuda Triangle...but then. He probably never traveled there during a bout of kryptonite poisoning.

Her vision was starting to go grey at the edges. She kept kicking, kept pushing against water. Her body's polite request for oxygen had become an insistent  demand. Oxygen. NOW.

She paddled, and kicked. The water seemed endless. The grey at the edge of her vision was now pulsing black spots, and there was a troubling pounding behind her eyes.

She didn't know what was more distressing; the threat of imminent, inevitable death, or the fact that Alex had been right about how this plan was going to go—which was to say, south.

She was barely kicking now, and her arms felt heavy—she wasn't moving forward so much as floating. She struggled, willing her body to keep going, just a bit farther...

One final kick. One desperate flail upwards.

Her hand broke the surface.

Adrenaline gave her a spurt of energy to surge upwards. She broke the surface and at last, at last, took a deep, grateful breath of air. And Rao, it felt good.

But.

She didn't have enough strength to keep treading water. She felt herself slipping back under. She clamped her mouth shut, but not before swallowing enough water to make her throat seize.

No, no! Don't...don't open your mouth! She struggled not to gag, and to get back up to the surface. She was so close!

In something of a panic, she reached out, almost like...if she could just get her hand above water, she could...she could grab onto something...!

Which was crazy. 

But, to her complete and utter shock, that was exactly what happened.

“Oh my God, Kara.”

“Hrk—cough—nnnrg. I know.”

“Oh my God, Kara!”

“I know,” Kara repeated, lying flat on her back on land. Glorious land. “Li—cough,cough—sten. Listen. It's not—not like I  could've known they ha—cough. Krypto—cough—nite cough.” She was still in the process of trying to expel salt water from her lungs. “They didn’t--they didn’t even know--that kryptonite would affect me! It was a trap for Supergirl! Cough.”

“This...this is not helping. With the anxiety,” Alex tilted her head back and sighed. Loudly. “It's doing the opposite, Kara. The exact opposite.”

“I can't sense anyone down there,” J'onn interrupted, walking up the beach. He was still in his Martian form, having rescued the floundering Kryptonian about a mile or two out from the shore. “My guess is that they evacuated the facility after you punched a hole in it.”

“So, what. Supergirl was supposed to use the front door?” Kara joked weakly. Alex shot her an unimpressed look. “Alex, come on. This...this was a fluke.”

“A pretty dangerous fluke,” Alex argued.

“Admittedly, yeah,” Kara sat up with an audible groan. “But. I...did learn something. I think,” she said. “Something about that Leviathan group.”

Alex and J'onn looked at her in surprise. “You got information on Leviathan?”

“Not much,” Kara shrugged. “But. I know they're making some pretty powerful enemies...and they're definitely not fans of Supergirl. So I think...this just took top priority, on my to-do list.” She punctuated her point by standing—or, trying to. She needed Alex's assistance.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Alex said, slipping an arm around Kara’s shoulders.

“Uh, no I don't,” Kara said.

“Uh, yeah you do. I said it'd go south. It went south.”

“You said they'd see through my acting.”

“Same thing.”

“No! J'onn, tell her it's not the same thing.”

“I'm not getting involved,” J'onn said, though he did move to Kara's other side as they continued up the beach, helping her walk on the uneven terrain.

“My acting was great.”

“You had kryptonite poisoning.”

“It's called method acting.”

“Are you two...going to bicker the entire way back?” J'onn asked. Alex and Kara glanced at each other, and, in near perfect unison, answered.

“Yes.”

FIN

Notes:

Leviathan and Checkmate are both secret organizations within the DC comics universe. Currently, a new Leviathan is running around in the Super books, potentially unrelated to Talia al Ghul’s Leviathan.

Clark’s new Fortress in the comics is located in the Bermuda Triangle. And! In the New 52, Kara had an underwater Fortress of sorts.

Snapper Carr and Deadshot were, in fact, both members of Checkmate.

I was originally going to use Valentina Vostok as 'the boss' but apparently she's already appeared on Legends of Tomorrow. So we get Sasha Bordeaux instead. (Amanda Waller is technically the 'Queen' of Checkmate, but again. Didn't want to use a character that had appeared elsewhere in the Arrowverse.)

I am aware of the similarities to some stuff that happens in the season 2 episode “Alex” but this fic was more inspired by the kryptonite drowning scene from Superman (the movie).

This fic operates under the assumption that Kelly knows Kara's secret.

All grammar/spelling mistakes are mine.

This makes the second longer-fic in a row where I’ve put poor Kara through the wringer. I will be kinder in the next one. ...Maybe.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Interrupted [1/3]

Pairing: Bucky x Steve || Bucky x Steve x Reader

Summary: You walk in on a private moment, forcing the three of you to have an awkward conversation.

Warnings: Language, M/M action, bondage, female masturbation, oral sex (m/r and f/r), threesome.

A/N: This is a re-post. Originally written as my entry for this writing challenge and posted on my other blog. 

My prompt was “Okay…but seriously what the hell is going on?”, which I have put in bold somewhere in the story. Enjoy!

[1] [2] [3] || My Masterlist

“Ms Y/L/N?”

“Yes, FRIDAY?” you reply, setting the book you’d been reading down on your bedside table.

“Boss is requesting your presence in his lab. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have returned from their mission,”.

“Ah, right, thanks FRIDAY, I’ll be there soon,”, you say, swinging your legs off the bed and sliding your feet into your shoes.

For the past three years, you’d been working as Tony Stark’s glorified lab assistant.You’d dealt with  everything from dousing his fires, to testing his prototypes, to de-bugging his software, and, as in today’s case, sifting though terabytes of data, deciding what should be stored within his database, and what to get rid of. Steve and Bucky had been sent to infiltrate an abandoned Roxxon Oil base on the coast of Brazil. Their mission was to break into the server room and retrieve all the data they could possibly get their hands on. The team had reason to suspect that Roxxon Oil had been acquiring huge sums of money via less than honest means — namely, the development and trade of WMDs — and needed as much info on the company’s history as they could get.

You bounce into Tony’s lab and grab a Stark tablet off one of the worktops, before coming to stand by his side. “Hey Twinkle-pop,” he greets, not bothering to look up from whatever it is he’s tinkering with, “Romanoff’s just delivered the Stark-drive they took on the mission, it’s over there somewhere,” he says, waving vaguely towards the right side of the room. “Take a look at it and start…doing whatever you need to do,”.

“What exactly am I looking for?” you ask, wandering between the tables, keeping an eye out for the sleek, black hard-drive. You crow in triumph when you see it balanced precariously on top of an enormous stack of papers.

“Uh…transfers of huge funds, mentions of weapons, anything…suspicious looking,” Tony mumbles, brow furrowing in concentration as he picks up a pair of tweezers and starts poking at his latest invention. Figuring you’re not going to get much more out of him, you plop yourself onto a stool and connect the Stark-drive to your tablet, so that you can transfer the files into FRIDAY’s system and start working through them.

“Heavily encrypted,” you announce.

“Can you handle it?” Tony asks, his tone distracted, suggesting that he’s only half-paying attention to you.

You snort indignantly. “‘Can I handle it?’ he asks. What am I, an amateur?” you grumble, fingers already tapping away at the screen as you blast through the meagre security measures put in place. A frown comes over your face when you glance at the file-transfer progress bar. “Tony? You sure this is all we got? Looks like only about half the size we were expecting,”.

“Hmm?” says Tony, not hearing you, focused as he in on wiring up his gadget.

You groan frustratedly, looking back at the tablet in your hands and chewing at your bottom lip as you deliberate your next action. Maybe a visit to Steve is in order. If you can figure out how he and Bucky got ahold of their files, or at least get an idea of what kind of equipment they were dealing with, you can determine whether or not they successfully retrieved all the data.

“Tony, I’m gonna go talk to Steve about this, okay?” you say, as you turn off your Stark tablet and get up from your stool.

Tony waves a hand at you offhandedly. “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he replies, “Say hi to Cap for me, will ya? Haven’t seen him all day,”.

“That’s because you’ve been holed up in this place all day,” you mutter, pulling your phone and earphones out of your hoodie pocket and slipping them into your ears. Steve and Bucky’s shared apartment is literally located in the farthest fucking corner of the compound there is, so you walk at a brisk pace to get there, nodding your head to the beat of the song blaring in your ears.

When you get to their door, you don’t bother knocking, as the three of you are prone to showing up unannounced at each other’s room at any give time. Your little trio has developed such an easy-going friendship in the time you’ve known each other, that it’s second nature for you, by now, turning the handle and pushing the door open, as you pull your earphones out of your ears.

You wish that you had knocked, though.

Because what greets you on the other side shocks the living daylights out of you.

Who knew Bucky Barnes was into bondage?

He’s completely naked, save for the blue cord snaking its way around his body, its bright hue contrasting beautifully against the red flush of his skin. Intricate knots bind his arms behind his back and his legs into a kneeling position — there is even a coil of blue around his cock. Your eyes can’t help but linger on that part of his body for a beat too long. It’s hard, flushed obscenely red and curving towards his belly, the tip glistening wet. Despite the absurdity of the situation, the image causes arousal to flare in your loins.

What a glorious cock it is.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve had a crush on Bucky for as long as you’ve known him. Seeing him wield his knives with such precision and confidence in the training room never fails to make you weak in the knees. To your shame, you’ve caught yourself thinking about him naked and in bed with you on more than one occasion — though this scenario had never come to mind.

There’s more to the scene in front of you (as if the sight of Bucky tied up and on his knees wasn’t enough?). Bucky is kneeling in front of Steve, who is sitting on a wooden chair, still decked out in his full stealth suit, minus the shield and the helmet. You might not suspect that anything was amiss, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s got his cock out with Bucky’s lips wrapped around it.

Again, your brain is torn. Part of you is wondering what the fuck is going on, and the other half of you craves to join Bucky, maybe even take his place. You’ve always had a thing for the Cap. It’s not often that you meet a man that looks like a freaking god, who also is a genuinely nice guy. And really, who can resist Steve when he’s got the stealth suit on? Clearly not Bucky, that’s for sure.

Never, in the entire time that you’ve known Steve and Bucky, did you ever suspect that their relationship was anything beyond platonic. You — and quite probably, everyone else on the team — never would’ve guessed that they were more than close friends. The situation in front of you suggests otherwise. You have nothing against them being together, as you are a firm believer that love is love, at the end of the day, but…you’re a little unsettled by this revelation, nonetheless.

But that’s more to do with the way in which you stumbled across this piece information, than anything else.

A long, drawn out moan from Steve draws your attention back to the moment. He’s thrown his head back, exposing the pink blush coating his cheeks and neck. His eyes are shut tight, though his jaw is slack, quiet whimpers falling from his parted lips. Bucky’s mouth is near the base of his cock and whatever it is he’s doing, Steve is enjoying it.

“Damn, baby,” Steve rasps, licking his lips, as Bucky bobs his mouth up and down Steve’s shaft, “F-fuck, ohh god, yes,”.

Bucky moans — and god if there ever was ever a sound to bring you to your knees, it’d be that — preening at the praise, looking utterly debauched but completely at peace with himself. Steve cards his fingers through Bucky’s sweaty hair, smoothing back the tendrils clinging to his temples. When Steve runs his thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone, the latter leans into the touch, almost nuzzling into Steve’s palm.

It’s then that you realise that this is so much more than just a blowjob; trust Steve and Bucky to turn a suckjob into something intimate, and private, and tender. A part of you wants to stay and gawk at these two for as long as you can, but you squash those urges down, feeling utterly guilty for what you have already witnessed. This is not something you’re privileged enough to see. This is not a moment that you can share with them.

And of course, just as you think that, Bucky’s eyes slide open and travel over the room, landing straight on you. You freeze in shock, heat flooding your cheeks because you’ve just been caught snooping on them. Bucky hastily rips his mouth off Steve’s dick.

“You didn’t lock the door?!” he hisses.

Steve, bless him, is still in his little sex daze, and takes a while to catch on to Bucky’s words. When he tracks Bucky’s line of sight and sees you, the pink flush on his face deepens to a bright scarlet. “I—I—well—y-you,” he stutters helplessly.

“Genius,” Bucky gripes. If the moment weren’t so awkward, you’d join in and make your own snide comment towards Steve.

“Not my fault!” Steve protests, “I—well, your hand was—,”

“No!” you interrupt, finally forcing yourself to turn away and pull the door shut, “I don’t wanna hear about where anyone’s hand was, thank you very much,”.

“Y/N!” Steve calls. You pause, half out the door, “Please come in, let’s…let’s talk?”

You swallow nervously. “Steve, uh…I’d rather you just…do whatever it is you were doing. Don’t—don’t let me ruin the mood,”.

Bucky snorts, and in your mind, you can clearly envision his eye roll as he mutters, “Too late for that,”.

“Bucky,” Steve sighs frustratedly, “Y/N, please let’s—let’s talk, I can’t—,”.

“Steve, Bucky is naked in the middle of your living room right now,” you interrupt, “I’d rather not have this conversation at this moment, so…why don’t you two get dressed and come to my room,”. From the silence that follows, you can only imagine that the two of them are sharing a look.

“She’s got a point, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs. Then, raising his voice, he calls to you, “Y/N? Sweetie, just head over to your room, we’ll see you there,”.

“Sure thing. Take—take all the time you need,”, you reply, shutting the door behind you.

——————

After practically sprinting back to your room, you make a beeline for the ensuite.You turn on the sink and splash some cold water onto your face, hoping that it’ll calm you down, somewhat. Your heart is racing, but you’re pretty sure that that’s not only because you’ve just run all the way here. Arousal is pooling in your gut, the image of Bucky on his knees for Steve forever burnished into your memory. As ashamed as you might feel, you know that that visual is going to stimulate many ‘personal relief’ sessions in the weeks to come. You clench your thighs together, hoping to take the edge off the pressure building between them, but your efforts are fruitless. With a resigned sigh, you turn off the tap and head into your room, sitting down on your bed and curling yourself against the headboard.

Not ten minutes later, the door to your room bursts open — it seems that your little fiasco earlier hasn’t instilled good practices in either of them — and Bucky comes traipsing in, a more subdued Steve sidling in after him.

“C’mere, sit on the bed,” you murmur, motioning towards the empty space beside you. At your invitation, Bucky promptly flops down at the foot of the bed, twisting onto his side and propping his head up on one hand. Steve, more reserved, chooses to remain standing.

A terse silence falls over the room, each of you waiting for someone else to kick-off what will undoubtedly be a very uncomfortable conversation. When it becomes clear than neither of them are stepping up to the task, you decide to bite the bullet.

“We—what did I just see?” you ask, fiddling with the strings on your hoodie, because you don’t really want to look at either of them right now.

“That was me giving Stevie here one helluva blowjob,” Bucky deadpans, the corner of his mouth crooking up into a cocky smirk.

“Bucky!” Steve says exasperatedly.

You roll your eyes at the two of them, but that little exchange seems to have broken the ice. Bucky’s teasing has lightened the mood in the room by only a fraction, but you’ll take what you can get. “Okay…but seriously, what the hell is going on? Between you two, I mean,” you add, gesturing between them, “Are you…a couple? Was that a regular occurrence kinda thing, or…”

You purposefully allow your voice to trail off, hoping that one of the boys will pick up the slack. Steve is shifting his weight from foot to foot agitatedly, glaring at the floor as if he wants it to swallow him whole. Bucky’s posture on the bed is still relaxed, but his expression is the complete opposite — brows knitted together, bottom lip drawn between his teeth. It’s an expression that tells you that he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Okay, look, Y/N,” Steve begins, “You can’t—you can’t tell anyone about this,”. You arch an eyebrow questioningly. “I—we’re…not…ready to tell anyone about…us,”, he explains haltingly.

“So there is an ‘us’?” you ask, your gaze flitting from one person to the other.

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but Bucky cuts in at the last second. “Yes, Y/N, there is an ‘us’, and has been an ‘us’ for as long as we’ve known each other, pretty much,” he says, shrugging indifferently. “But Steve’s Captain America and—,”.

“—and the America public might not react very well to their patriotic idol being gay,” Steve interjects, wringing his hands agitatedly.

“So can you keep it a secret, Y/N? For a while?” Bucky asks, looking at you anxiously. You get the impression that he’s completely alright with the notion of a gay Captain America, and that he’s going along with this more for Steve’s sake, than anything else. Still, Bucky Barnes’ puppy-dog begging eyes will never fail to be your weakness, and so with a lighthearted laugh, you agree.

“Of course! Consider my lips sealed!” you assure them, miming the action of zipping your lips, locking them shut and throwing away the key. Bucky grins at your antics, though Steve still looks uneasy.

“It’s okay Stevie,” you soothe, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. “I respect your decision. It’s not my place to tell, nor is it my secret to tell. As long as you’re happy, I’m good,”.

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as the tension flows out of his body, your words seeming to have placated him significantly. He gives you a tentative smile, “Yeah? Thanks, Y/N,”.

“So…we all good? We’re settled, aren’t we?” Bucky asks, getting off the bed and sauntering over to Steve. He slings his metal arm over Steve’s shoulders. “‘Cause if we are, Steve and I could go back to—,”.

“No! Don’t wanna hear it!” you cry, throwing your hands over your ears, just as a chuckling Steve playfully shoves Bucky away. Nonplussed, Bucky grabs Steve’s arm and practically hauls him out of your room, shouting a cheery “Goodbye!” over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

——————

After the day’s unexpected events, you figure that you’ve earned yourself a nice, hot, soak. You drag yourself into the bathroom, pulling your clothes off en route before dumping them in the laundry hamper by the door. Though your bathroom is sleek and modern, the tub is a vintage clawfoot one that you’d found in an antique shop a while back. You step into it and fiddle with the taps for a bit, twisting and turning them until the water is at the perfect temperature. Now that you are naked, you are more acutely aware of the throbbing ache between your legs. Seeing the water thundering into the tub gives you an idea.

With some (a lot) of manoeuvring, you manage to hook your legs over the lip of the clawfoot tub. You grip the edge of the tub and lift your body, angling your torso until the stream of water is falling steadily over your aching clit. You moan wantonly, throwing your head back in ecstasy and squeezing your eyes shut as the intense pressure rushes over your sex.

In your mind, you’re back in Steve and Bucky’s room, naked and sat with your back against Steve’s chest, his cock trapped between your bodies. Bucky’s head is between your legs, those plump lips and clever tongue exerting just the right amount of friction and pressure on your pussy, making you squirm and writhe in Steve’s arms. For his part, Steve’s got his hands on your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his strong fingers. And, since Bucky’s mouth is otherwise occupied, you imagine Steve’s lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his husky voice whispers filthy words to you.

That is the thought that has you coming undone. Their names tumble from your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily and back arching into an inhuman angle as the waves of pleasure roll through your body. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself against the spray of water, but you force yourself to stay still, in order to prolong your climax. It is only when you are shivering from overstimulation that you gingerly lower yourself down into the tub, sighing contentedly as the warm water envelops you.

“Ms Y/L/N?”

You groan, pulled out of your post-orgasmic haze far too early. “Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Boss is asking if you’re planning on returning to the lab,”.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and huff in frustration. Trust Tony to ruin the moment. “Tell him I’m taking the night off, FRIDAY,” you say, letting your eyes slip shut, “I think I’ve earned it,”.

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[multifandom-damnation]

Roy’s Birthday Bonanza

“Kori, Princess, for the love of all things holy can you please help me with this?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do Jason. You’ve stopped me every other time.”

Scanning the kitchen, Jason’s eyes landed on the suds in the kitchen sink and the close-to-toppling pile of plates and washables. “Can you do the dishes?”

Floating over to the sink, Kori tied up her hair and rolled up her sleeves. She dumped her hands in the hot water and started washing. Jason sighed through his nose and turned to his laptop where a skype call was ongoing. “Now what Alfie?”

Alfred’s kindly smile put Jason at ease as he placed the cake precariously balanced on his arm into the oven, hot air blasting Jason in the face and making him blink. He closed the oven door and whipped his hands on the tea-towel hanging from his shoulder. “I think now you should make the frosting, Master Jason.”

“Frosting?” Jason asked, “We’re covering this in frosting?”

“Of course. I mean no disrespect, but I’m not sure how well the cake is going to look once it bakes. A good frosting-cake ratio is always desirable.”

“What flavoured icing?” Jason probed, suspiciously giving the laptop the side eye.

Alfred’s ageing face turned fuzzy as he chuckled and looked down to page through one of the many recipe books he had opened to random pages on the Wayne kitchen counter. “Would chocolate suffice?”

“Alfie, you don’t even need to ask that.” It was true. Alfred also knew the answer was yes. It was always yes. “Very well Jason. To melt the chocolate, shall we do a Ban Marie? Or would the microwave be easier?”

Jason froze, turning his head ever so slightly to glare at their microwave, with its missing parts and wires that Roy had disassembled to use in his newest project and had not yet replaced. “How long will the Band Mary take?”

“A Ban Marie, Master Jason. And close to 10 minutes, depending on how much chocolate you wish to melt.”

Kori’s head snapped up and she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaving soap suds on her forehead. “When do you think Roy is going to be home? It can’t be long now.”

Jason closed his eyes and ground out through grit teeth, “How do you do a Ban Marie?”

“A pot of hot water and a porcelain bowl filled with chocolate. Stir it and add more as required.”

Jason sighed and rubbed his hair, ruffling it and making it stick out in odd places. “Fine. We’ll do that.” Walking to the pantry, Jason pulled out two blocks of chocolate and grabbed the pre-whipped cream and caster sugar on his way back to the stove. He pulled a chopping board from a cupboard and after being unable to locate a clean knife, he pulled one from his hip holster and started cutting the chocolate into small pieces.

Alfred cleared his throat and Jason looked at him from the corner of his eye to see him dragging a hand down his tired face. “I hope that knife has been cleaned and disinfected since you last used it, Jason.”

Snorting, Jason finished with the chocolate and handed the knife to Kori so she could clean it. “It’s a new knife, Alfie. I bought it yesterday. I’m sorry to say that the only thing it’s done so far since I’ve gotten it is chop up chocolate chunks. We’re safe”

The sink gurgled as Kori drained the water from it and left the dishes on the rack to dry. She suddenly froze and whipped her head round to stare at Jason, eyes wide. “Oh no…” She gasped.

“Princess?” Jason asked, abandoning his task and stalking over to Kori to grab hold of her arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Did you wrap the presents?” She whispered.

Jason’s heart stopped. “I thought you did?”

Kori shook her head, bug-eyed and sprinted to the bedroom to pull the gift’s out from under the bed. She dragged them out to the living room adjacent to the kitchen and sat down to wrap them. Jason was secretly thankful that she had grabbed the wrapping paper with little heart-shot-arrows and not the ones with naked women on it. Not like Roy would have minded anyway.

But they still had standards.

Jason turned to his task and poured the chocolate into a porcelain bowl, placing it over the pot of water and stirring it as needed. “What do we need to do after this Alfred?”

“You may decorate it however you wish once you put on the icing. Have you got any idea’s in mind?”

Hell no, Jason thought. “Of course” he lied, gently adding in the whipped cream and butter.  “I always do, don’t I?”

“Of course, Master Jason. Would you be needed my assistance any longer?”

Jason looked around at the bombshell of a kitchen and thought about what he would give for Alfred’s help. “I think I’ve got it. Thanks’ Alfie. If There’s any left, I’ll send you some.”

“Knowing Mr Harper, I doubt there will be.”

“Heh, see you, Alfred. Love you.”

“I love you too Jason. Come by for dinner soon. I’ll tell the family you called.”

The laptop beeped to signal the end of the call, and Jason turned the heat up on the stove. “How we looking Kori?” He called to the Tameranian on the floor, who was currently trying to wrap a pile of trucker hats.

“Good, but then we’re always looking good.” Kori joked “If you’re talking about the gifts, it’s pretty slow going. But I should be done by the time the cake is done.”

“Good,” Jason sighed, spooning in the last of the icing sugar as the chocolate became fully liquefied. “That’s good.”

He brought the plate over to the sink and stirred it so it didn’t harden, and poured the cooling chocolate into the bowl of whipped cream and folded it through. The cream white gave to a satisfying light brown and Jason relaxed as the oven dinged to say the cake was ready. Maybe the rest of the night will run smoothly?

Jason’s phone rang and he looked at the name before he opened it. “Roytoy,” and a photo of Roy shooting targets greeted him. “Oh Jaybird…” Roy greeted sing-song as soon as Jason had answered the phone, not even giving him the chance to say ‘hello’. “I’m coming home now. Is there anything you need?”

“How far away do you think you’ll be?” Jason asked.

“Maybe 30 minutes. Why?”

Jason cast a look at Kori who was still struggling to wrap the presents and around the safe house. The kitchen was a mess and the house looked… boring. This won’t do. “Make it 60,” Jason said hurriedly.

“60… minutes? An hour? Jay, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know” Jason hissed, pulling the cake out of the oven and unclipping the spring-form pan, placing Roy on loudspeaker and laying the phone on the counter. “Figure it out. Go see Wally and Artemis. Go take Lian out. I don’t know. You just can’t come back yet. Got it?”

Roy sighed. “Got it.” The phone beeped and the call went dead.

Leaving the cake to cool on a cooling rack, Jason bolted to the storeroom and pulled out streamers and paper lanterns and glitter, even though Jason knew he would regret it later. He hung them up all around the room and decorated the table in festive celebration bullshit. He made a banner that said “Roy’s Birthday Bonanza” and even though he knew it wasn’t really a “bonanza” it felt like it.

At some point he had gone to help Kori wrap the gifts, folding them and covering them in sticky tape then placing them under and around the table. Kori had dashed off to get changed and to clean up the rest of the house.  He placed the cards they had all written in a line of envelopes. Kori’s an elegant purple, Jason’s a deep red and Lian’s a bright pink and Jason smirked as he thought of Roy’s face when he opened it up and got covered in a thick film of glitter and sprinkles and confetti.

Jason had run over to ice the cake, smacking on globs of icing and smearing it with a bread knife so it was smooth, running it up and over the cake. He went through the pantry and pulled out sprinkles and cake toppers that looked the ball bearings and poured them all over the cake. He tried to make a pattern, but when Roy texted him to say he was on his way home, Jason lost all the patience he thought he had and gave up with that.

He placed the cake in the centre of the table and stuck some candles in, leaving one of the many lighters they had around the house next to it and dashed to get changed.

When they heard keys jingling in the lock and complaints of the heat from the front door, Kori rushed to turn off all the lights and Jason lit the candles. He quickly slipped the lighter into his pocket as he realised it had an image of a dead deer on it for some reason, and if Lian was there, she didn’t need to see that.

When Roy burst through the front door with Lian in his arms, Kori and Jason screamed “Happy Birthday!” loud enough for him to slip on a pile of glitter at the door and land on his ass, covering them both in a sprinkling of glitter.

Roy’s smile didn’t fade at all that night.

Hi! So, I found out it was Roy’s birthday on the 1st, and because it’s still technically the 1st in America, I didn’t miss it, right? Right? I hope this is ok, I wrote it in 3 hours and it’s really late. Happy Birthday, Roytoy, I hope your babes gave you a good night. Both in and out of bed.  Bye!

[aion-rsa]

The Expanse Season 4 Recap: Ilus, the Ring Gates and the Cliffhanger Ending

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Warning: contains spoilers for The Expanse season 4

At the beginning of The Expanse season four, the show’s characters stood at the crossroads of a brave and expansive new world, as did the cast and crew in their new home at Amazon. It was a marriage made in heaven. The Expanse was bigger, slicker, bolder, and grittier, but just as gloriously deep, rich and complex as ever. As season five gets ready to drop, let’s remind ourselves of the ups, downs, ins, outs, fights, smites and subterfuge of season four. We’ll start with the set-up and then look at each of the main locations/groups in turn, leading up to the season’s denouement and planet-busting cliffhanger. Major spoilers, obviously, ahead.

In the Beginning

Season three ended with the opening of the mysterious ring gates, and the 1300 habitable systems beyond them. Holden feared the beginning of ‘a blood-soaked gold rush’.

It’s a fear shared by UN Secretary General Chrisjen Avarasala (Shohreh Aghdashloo), who wants everyone to stay put. The UN’s stance is backed by the Martian Congressional Republic (MCR) and many of the Belters. The balance of peace and power in the Sol system is precarious, and a mass exodus could destabilise human civilisation. Besides, no one group wants any of the other groups to rush in and gain the upper hand.

A convoy of Belter ships rushes the blockade on the Sol side of the slow zone. The Barbapiccola, containing refugees from Ganymede, makes it through and enters one of the ring gates. The Belters settle on a planet there and begin mining lithium. They name the planet Ilus.

Two ships are dispatched in the settlers’ wake. The first is the Edward Israel, owned by a corporation called Royal Charter Energy (RCE), which already had a UN-and-Mars-backed mandate to conduct scientific studies beyond the ring gates. The second is the Rocinante. Avasarala wants Jim Holden (Steven Strait) and his team to bring their knowledge and experience of the protomolecule to bear on this strange new world, and also act as adjudicators. Officially, at least. It’s not really in Avasarala’s interests for the situation on Ilus to run smoothly.  

Life on Mars

Bobbie Draper (Frankie Adams) spent seasons two and three in a whirlwind of defections, double-dealings and divided loyalties thanks to the cold war (and almost total war) between Earth and Mars, and the revelation of Mars’ role in the development of protomolecule bio-soldiers. Season four finds her somewhat adrift, living on Mars with her younger brother, David, and working for a company that dismantles decommissioned warships. She’s generally having a hard time readjusting to civilian life.

David gets embroiled in the criminal underworld, helping a gang to prepare illicit sense-enhancement drugs. Bobbie takes exception to this, so goes looking for the gang. She finds and beats down some of its members, in the process smashing up one of their labs and damaging their inventory. Her brother is kidnapped and forced to work off the debt incurred by the damage. Bobbie pleads for her brother’s release, a request to which the leader of the gang is willing to acquiesce, but only for a price: Bobbie has to leave a door unlocked at work so the gang can steal some military equipment. Reluctantly, she complies. When Bobby’s conscience gets the better of her she tries to report the gang to the police, only to discover that the high-ranking policeman who comes to log her report is the gang leader himself, Esai Martin (Paul Schulze). She later quits her job when her supervisor seems keener on getting in on the lucrative illegal action than in pursuing justice. Eventually she’s arrested for her part in the gang’s crime, and is only saved from prosecution when she agrees to accept Esai’s offer to work for his gang. Esai is motivated in his criminality by the pressing need to make enough money to secure passage off Mars and start a new life elsewhere with his family. He knows that the ring-gates, and the life and fecundity beyond them, have rendered Mars’ terraforming initiatives pointless, thereby dooming the planet to stagnation and, very possibly, extinction.  

Esai and his gang are later involved in the theft of another piece of Martian military tech, which is handed over to a team of Belters, who summarily execute the gang before retreating off-world. Bobbie witnesses this happening.  

Avasarala, Earth, and The OPA

The Outer Planets Alliance (OPA) faction represented by Camina Drummer (Cara Gee) and Klaes Ashford (David Strathairn) allies with the UN. They re-brand and re-purpose the Behemoth as Medina station, setting themselves up as gate-keepers of the rings, helping to enforce the UN blockade.  It’s hoped that this will grant them a place at the table and influence over the new galactic order.

Not all Belters are on board with this new paradigm, perceiving it as selling out; a capitulation to those who would still demean and exploit them.  Marco Inaros (Keon Alexander) is the most vocal and militant voice of opposition. Marco is Naomi Nagata’s (Dominique Tipper) ex-beau and father of their child, Filip (Jasai Chase Owens), and while these days he styles himself a freedom fighter, it wasn’t always thus. When he was with Naomi, he tricked her into writing code that he claimed would merely disable other ships, allowing their faction to come to the rescue and extort payment for their time and trouble. However, Marco used the code to overload the reactor of a docked ship, killing hundreds of people. When the distraught and guilt-ridden Naomi left the faction she was prevented from taking their son, Filip.

Marco is apprehended by Drummer and Ashford for his part in capturing the UNN colony ship Soujourner and executing its crew. While aboard the Behemoth, Marco tries to win Ashford over to his world view, reminding him that the Belt will suffer a terminal decline of profit and influence owing to the exodus, and, besides, very few Belters, due to their space-bound physiology, will be able to take advantage of the brave new worlds beyond the ring gates. The heads of the various OPA factions assemble to decide whether or not Marco should be spaced (ejected into space sans suit) for breaking the fragile truce between the inner and outer planets. It’s Drummer who breaks the tie, reasoning that killing Marco would make him a martyr, and propel into action those factions loyal to his cause.

On Earth, Avasarala faces a leadership challenge from Nancy Gao (Lily Gao) who, in contrast to the incumbent, is a fierce advocate for embracing the change, opportunity and adventure that the ring gates represent. Avasarala’s campaign takes its toll on her ethics and her personal life, especially her marriage. She resorts to smears against Gao, and isn’t above attempting to use the problems on Ilus to her advantage. 

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OPA bigwig Fred Johnson (Chad L. Coleman) reveals Marco’s location to Avasarala, who wastes no time in dispatching a team of marines to the Pizzouza spacecraft to extract him. Marco, however, isn’t on board, and the resulting firefight between marines and Belters results in grave loss of life. The fallout critically damages Avasarala’s image, reputation and election chances, and moreover plays right into Marco’s hands. 

Fred Johnson visits the Behemoth, receiving from Drummer both a punch in the face and news of her resignation. Ashford vows to track down and kill Marco and wants Drummer to accompany him, but she declines on the grounds that she’s sick of politics and its machinations.

Ashford’s pursuit of Marco through the Belt leads him to a Martian naval officer, who reveals under interrogation the existence of a conspiracy involving Martians and Belters. When Ashford finally tracks down Marco, on an abandoned asteroid mine in the belt (from which there are also some asteroids missing) he’s prevented from killing him by the appearance Marco’s and Naomi’s son Filip, who emerges from the shadows to tip the balance of power in his father’s favour. Ashford is spaced, but before he dies he broadcasts a secret recording that incriminates Marco and will alert whomever receives the transmission to the conspiracy – even if Ashford never learned its exact purpose or shape.

On Earth, Avasarala is defeated by Nancy Gao. Avasarala dictates a conciliatory message to Nancy Gao, which ends thusly: “As for policy and the direction you’re taking the earth and all her peoples. Well, we disagree. One of us is wrong. I think it’s you… but I hope it’s me.”

Ilus/New Terra

When the Rocinante arrives on Ilus – or New Terra, as the UN would have it – there is already palpable tension and mistrust between the Belters and the crew of the Edward Israel. The RCE’s shuttle was downed on its way from orbit, resulting in deaths and injuries. Survivors of the crash include the group’s leader, the merciless Adolphus Murtry Burn Gorman); RCE security officer Chandra Wei (Jess Salgueiro); and exo-biologist Dr Elvi Okoye (Lyndie Greenwood). Violence is halted when everyone is swarmed by alien bugs, soon confirmed as protomolecule-based.

The planet is home to large structures that were built by the long-dead beings responsible for the protomolecule. Proto-Miller (Thomas Jane) appears to Holden and makes him go to one of the ruined structures to remove a root that’s blocking a connection. This turns on the structure and, it would appear, the entire planet, shaking loose forks of promethean lightning from the dark, oppressive clouds. Holden fires a torpedo at another of the structures when it too appears to activate.

Amos (Wes Chatham) and Murtry play detective for a time, discovering that the planet’s landing pad was blown up deliberately. In the ensuing stand-off between the Belters and the RCE group, Murtry shoots and kills one of the Belters. This violent act kills the potential bromance between Amos and Murtry. Both men are killers, but Amos, despite his shallow affect, follows a more honourable code of ethics, one that puts him at irreconcilable loggerheads with the ruthless Murtry. Amos is taken into custody while Naomi – still having trouble adjusting to terra firma, despite the help of acclimation drugs – helps a Belter woman named Lucia (Rosa Gilmore) escape the RCE’s clutches. She’s being pursued by the RCE because they know she was involved in blowing up the landing pad. Lucia explains to Naomi that it was only supposed to be an act of sabotage to buy the Belters more time. When it became clear that this act of sabotage would coincide with the arrival of the RCE’s shuttle, Lucia tried to abort the action, but was prevented from doing so by her co-conspirators. Holden and Alex (Cas Anvar) come to Naomi and Lucia’s aid as they’re hunted across the encampment, bringing some of the Rocinante’s firepower to bear. Alex takes Lucia and Naomi into orbit aboard the Rocinante, leaving Holden behind to plead with the two factions to evacuate the unpredictable, proto-molecule-soaked planet, with a little time left over to punch Murtry in the face and demand Amos’s release.

Neither faction wants to abandon the planet, or their claim to the lithium, but soon the planet itself renders Holden’s exhortations irrelevant. An island explodes, precipitating a shockwave and tsunami that threatens their survival. Worse still, the fall-out has somehow rendered the fusion drives on the orbiting spacecraft useless. There’s no prospect of escape or rescue. Everyone has to flee for refuge in one of the alien ruins.

Structures, slugs and synthesised drugs

Once inside, the survivors split into two factions, RCE on one side, Belters on the other, with Holden and Amos somewhere in the middle. They quickly discover that the structure is teeming with countless thousands of neurotoxic alien slugs and hostile micro-organisms. Everyone except Holden starts to go blind after being infected by the micro-organisms. Many others succumb to the fatal touch of the slugs. Murtry, becoming more unstable by the moment, reveals to his group his true objective on Ilus/New Terra. It isn’t the lithium he’s after, but the proto-molecule tech. He also wants to kill Holden and Amos.

Above the planet, Alex and Naomi devise a plan to tether the Rocinante to the Barbapiccola to prevent its decaying orbit from dragging it down onto the planet’s surface. Murtry keeps things interesting by ordering the Edward Israel to fire on the Rocinante.

The exo-biologist Dr Okoye works out – just in the nick of time – that Holden is immune to the micro-organisms because of the anti-cancer medication he’s been taking ever since he and Miller were exposed to radiation on Eros. She synthesises a cure, and the effects are reversed. In time, the waters recede enough for the survivors to leave the structure.

Meanwhile, proto-Miller again appears to Holden. The ‘real’ Miller is now battling with the protomolecule for control of the Miller ‘avatar’. In a moment of lucidity, Miller explains to Holden that the hat-wearing Miller he’s been dealing with is The Investigator, whose mission was to bring Holden and a dose of active protomolecule through the ring gates to activate the structures on Ilus. Miller, however, has identified a place on the planet where the protomolecule can’t go, where in fact all trace of it can be destroyed.       

Holden heads off in search of this weak spot. He’s led to a portal which transports him to another structure elsewhere on the planet, swiftly followed by Murtry and Chandra (with whom Amos had a brief ‘romance’), who are intent on killing him. Amos and Okoye follow. Amos fatally shoots Chandra, then Murtry shoots and disables Amos. Meanwhile, Okoye and Holden find a mysterious circular rift that Miller refers to as ‘the bullet’. While Holden rushes to aid Amos and incapacitate Murtry, Okoye stays behind to help Miller with ‘the bullet’. Miller merges with items strewn around the room to give him the corporeal form necessary to enter and plug the rift. His self-sacrifice not only saves Okoye, who is almost swallowed by the phenomenon, but returns everything to normal. All vestiges of the protomolecule are removed, the planet is ‘deactivated’ and fusion engines can function once more. The Belters and some of the RCE scientists decide to stay behind on Ilus. In orbit, Holden ejects the only piece of protomolecule that’s still aboard the Rocinante into Ilus’ sun. Murtry is a prisoner aboard the Rocinante, but the crew decides to let Lucia go.    

The Beginning of the End

Bobbie reaches out to Avasarala to tell her about the criminal conspiracy between Martian and Belter criminals/terrorists. Ashford’s message, which lends weight to this intel, is out there in the ether somewhere, but no one has yet detected it. Bobbie and Avasarala are now working together.

It was Filip who was with the team of Belters on Mars that stole the piece of military tech before eliminating Esai’s gang. The hardware taken was stealth tech, which we discover that Marco Inaros has used to cloak eight asteroids that are currently hurtling their way towards Earth.  

It’s going to be fascinating and harrowing in equal measure to see what a few million tonnes of space-rock will do to the tentative peace that’s barely holding the Sol system together, and how the various factions will make peace – or war – with the atrocity to come.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Roll on season five.

The post The Expanse Season 4 Recap: Ilus, the Ring Gates and the Cliffhanger Ending appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ly85ts

[blue-opossum]

Spray Mist, Bridge Collapse, and Vestibular Modulation

        Morning of June 6, 2020. Tuesday.

        Dream #: 19,528-02. Reading time (optimized): 3 min 30 sec.

        Instinctual awareness of being asleep underlies the foundation of my dreaming experience, which is co-occurrent with me being in bed. (Question: Why would this instinctual awareness and its resultant literal rendering have any relationship to symbolism or waking life?)

        In my imaginary experience, minimal modeling of my conscious identity occurs. (Question: What do you think would happen if a dream correctly modeled waking-life identity?) I am sitting at the end of a bed in the home of Zsuzsanna's friend Tash (from years ago). (Note that I have never met Tash in waking life or seen any residence where she has lived.) Zsuzsanna is standing near the center of an adjacent room on my right (an atypical orientation, as she is most often on my left when in the dream state).

        The bed is illogically in what seems to be the living room, perpendicular to the front door (on my left) into the residence. The television is on. Although I am looking at it from the foot of the bed, I do not focus on the broadcast. (It is typical for a bed to be in an unlikely location as a precaution to prevent the dream state from being mistaken with waking life or having relevance to waking life.)

        Tash is this dream's cerebral-RAS personification (to modulate consciousness emergence from out of the dream state). She starts spraying from a can of disinfectant spray between the foot of the bed and the television. I do not mind it at first, but it eventually becomes annoying.

        I do not feel any emotion over her imposition, though I think she has sprayed too much, so I say, "That's toxic." She ignores me and continues to spray. I perceive no danger to my health, but I decide to leave her home through the front door (which signifies a form of pre-liminal modulation that results in my dream being less vivid for a time). Even though I had been in Australia up until now, I walk directly into a fictitious version of La Crosse (in America).

        (The above scenario was influenced by Zsuzsanna telling me about her waking alert dream during this sleep cycle, caused by her sleeping uncomfortably on her arm, which resulted in content about a ghostly mist pushing her against a wall to trigger Cerebral-RAS activity.)

        I wrongfully consider that the Loomis Street house is where I live (though there is still recall of my marriage to Zsuzsanna, though she has never been to America). (Question: Why would anyone believe that the virtual amnesia of the dream state has any "meaning" when it exists to PREVENT waking life correlation on a cerebral level?) It is north of a strange narrow bridge. As I attempt to walk on the structure, it is flimsy and precarious. This situation models the precursor of the vestibular-cerebral handshake (that I often modulate) that has occurred in every sleep cycle since early childhood. (Question: Why would dream content that is compensating for vestibular system ambiguity AS A RESULT of being in REM sleep have an "interpretation" or relevance to waking life? I have modulated vestibular system ambiguity similarly in tens of thousands of my dreams.)

        As I had anticipated, the bridge collapses before I walk on it just from me touching it while contemplating the vestibular-cerebral process. I recall that I enjoy the sensation of sliding and, briefly, think I should slide down the collapsed bridge (even though the Loomis Street house is at least three blocks away and the height and length of the "slide" would not logically account for the curve or slope). Instead, I pull up my end of the bridge remnant and flip the entire three-block bridge. It leaps upward like a carpet, resulting in cars in the distance scattering into the sky.

        The bridge is stable again, though much broader than it was. However, I choose to fly to the Loomis Street house in a standing position about three feet above the bridge in case it inconsequentially collapses again (a common dream state choice in this mode). I arrive at the location, but it is not like it should be (though my dream self does not care).

        Looking up at a window in the sloped roof while I sit on the foot of a bed (the room with the essence of the northeast room of the Loomis Street house even though it is visually nothing like it), I see the silhouette of a flying creature of some sort on the other side of the sheer curtain, perhaps a bat. I am wary it may be on the inside (and soon think it might be a big squashed bug), though when I look more closely after mentally sweeping the curtain away, I see that it is on the outside of the window. Additionally, after finding its shape very curious, I conclude it is a monarch butterfly.

        This dream's outcome is very close in nuances and specific mood to one from 1971 (at age 10). As a result of managing the liminal factors of the waking transition (vestibular-cerebral handshake), deciding the content, a bat hanging on a curtain eventually turned out to be a moth as dawn arrived. Otherwise, the causal factors for this sleep-wake management have remained identical, each sleep cycle, since childhood.

[ninzied]

Crumbs [Missing Year OQ]

In which there is cake and maybe, just maybe, the promise of a little something more. Bonus Ruby POV. [ffn | ao3]

Based on a three word prompt from @belleoftheballpoint: red, cake, rain.

Thank you @starscythe for not letting me end this too soon like I’m always trying to do!

Regina was sitting alone when Ruby found her, everyone else having formed a celebratory clump by the fire as far away from the Queen as they could without being too obvious about it.

The outdoor location had been Regina’s idea. In fact, to Ruby’s knowledge, Regina had arranged everything from the quaint little clearing to the twinkle lights adorning the trees. The cake had been the one exception, after Snow had fairly insisted that she would “make sure it gets taken care of.”

Even so, the other partygoers had given Regina a very wide berth, acknowledging her with little more than a half-guarded look here and there as they mingled around and enjoyed the refreshments Regina had prepared.

Ruby supposed she couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like Regina usually made much of an effort to be even barely tolerable company. She was more than loud in her opinions on the “forest filth” she’d let into her castle, and she definitely didn’t pull her punches wherever the leader of said “filth” was concerned.

But for all her scowling sourness, Regina was not as subtle as she probably liked to think she was about some things. Ruby had caught her trying to hide an actual smile while Roland begged for a piggyback ride from his papa, to get a better look at all the “lighting bugs” he’d just found in the trees.

The smile was an accident, of course, and Regina must have decided to spend the rest of the evening making up for the oversight by glowering into the distance even more fiercely than usual, which was exactly what she was doing when Ruby came up to her.

“Hey, girl.”

Ruby plunked down on one end of the log without waiting for a response, a generous slice of red velvet held out in offering. “Here. For you.”

Regina stared it down as though it might be something sinister in disguise, finally addressing Ruby with a stiff, “Excuse me?”

“It’s just cake, Regina. It won’t bite.” Ruby paused. Smirked. “Unless Roland’s dad put something in there that I don’t know about.”

“The thief made this?” Regina’s gaze was still very carefully trained on the cake. As if Ruby hadn’t noticed the way her voice suddenly sounded two shades lighter – younger – at the mere mention of Robin.

“With some help from yours truly,” Ruby smiled. “Poor guy was hopelessly lost in that kitchen without me.”

She waited for some salty remark about how Snow had outsourced the one job she had to a wolf and a criminal, and when it didn’t come she glanced over to find that Regina’s gaze had strayed predictably toward the other side of the campfire, where Robin had just deposited his kid on the log across from theirs.

“Hold still a moment,” Robin was saying kindly when Roland attempted to lunge at the modest pile of gifts that had accumulated there.

Granny had fashioned Roland a party hat out of magnolia leaves, pinning a single flower at the tip in the absence of streamers. It sat adorably lopsided atop his curly head, and Robin leaned to adjust the silk ribbon ties beneath Roland’s chin before endeavoring to remove a smear of frosting at the corner of his mouth – as best as he was able, anyway, what with Roland’s insistence on spinning around to beam at everything in sight.

“Anyway,” said Ruby, as Regina seemed to realize she’d been staring and resumed her scowling at the plate of red velvet, “he wanted you to have a piece.”

The look Regina gave her was plainly dubious. “He did.”

“Just take the damn cake, Regina,” Ruby said calmly, and Regina glared at her a final time before letting Ruby press the plate into her hands.

Roland was just digging into his presents, and it was another several moments of watching his progress before Regina noticed the fork Ruby had patiently dangled in front of her. She took it without a word, poking one edge of the cake and frowning thoughtfully at it while Ruby smiled into her beer.

They sat in semi-companionable silence for a while as Roland chattered exuberantly over a pair of brown leather boots; a child-friendly bow (with a quiver full of tiny plungers in place of arrow tips); a special kit of instruments for observing the stars.

“How about we open this one next,” suggested Robin when the kid looked momentarily staggered by all his new possessions. The box Robin held out to him was much smaller in comparison, about half the size of Roland’s palm, resembling one of those little toy chests at the bottom of a fish tank.

Regina had just stabbed at her cake with an unprecedented level of determination, chewing intensely as Roland took the trinket box and turned the miniature key in its lock.

A click and then a hissing whoosh, like the air being let out of a balloon, burst through the opening with such force that Roland’s curls flew upward, his party hat getting knocked askew again.

The unexpected noise had caught the attention of several others nearby, and Leroy let out a drunken, blustering “This reeks of Wicked Witch!” that had Regina narrowing her eyes at her cake again.

The escaped air traveled about a foot and a half above Roland’s hand before it began to churn and fog up, forming dark puffs of grey and emitting faint sparks that zigzagged down to zap at the inside of the box.

Roland gasped.

Leroy had wedged himself in front of the other dwarves, looking red-faced and ready to fight something.

“That does look kinda…” Dangerous, was what Ruby had been about to say, somewhat concerned that anyone thought this would qualify as an appropriate toy for a child. She stole another glance at Regina.

Robin, however, seemed to feel otherwise, chuckling when the tiny clouds began to rumble with the promise of rain and Roland looked up at him with a delighted expression.

A shoot of something green suddenly poked a leafy branch outside of the box, and then another and another, sprouting up so energetically that the box trembled and nearly catapulted off of Roland’s outstretched hand.

In a few seconds’ time, an entire miniature replica of the Enchanted Forest, complete with its very own turbulent sky, seemed to have emerged from inside the chest, stems and roots and bits of soil spilling over the sides while the clouds thundered and shook out more droplets of rain.

The whole thing gave the impression of being very precariously balanced, like an elephant attempting to stand on a thimble, but it sat snugly in Roland’s palm without so much as a wobble, bending fluidly this way and that to offset the weight each time he tilted it sideways.

A moon slipped in and out of the roiling storm. The treetops sparkled with tiny blinking lights, not at all unlike the ones towering over them now. Somewhere within the mini forest’s half-lit shadows, a little wolf howled.

“Nice touch,” Ruby said casually.

“It’s home,” said Roland, awestruck.

Robin’s eyes flicked toward Regina, who was still resolutely eating her cake as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Can I take it with us, Papa?” Roland requested in an urgent whisper, as though he were scared what might come of it if he didn’t. His voice dropped even further, in a way to suggest that he knew he’d just asked something really quite scandalous. “Can I take it inside?”

“I don’t see why not, If Her Majesty doesn’t mind us dragging a bit of dirt around her castle,” said Robin, managing a perfectly straight face.

“Doubt it,” Ruby hummed under her breath, with a sly glance in Regina’s direction. The woman’s jaw ticked slightly before she primly forked up another bite of cake.

Ruby smirked.

“I don’t think she will mind having dirt,” Roland was saying confidently, gazing up at his storm clouds with a look of affection. “Right, Papa?”

“She’s let us stay with her this long, hasn’t she?” Robin smiled. “Besides…” He cleared his throat, his gaze never leaving his son’s as his voice carried openly across the campfire. “I think she’d be pleased to know how much better the storm sounds will help you sleep.”

Regina had run out of cake, but she resolutely scraped up the leftover frosting, letting the fork linger in her mouth while appearing to look very interested in something near the ground.

Robin was also looking studiously elsewhere, offering a very impressed-sounding “Yes, I see that!” when Roland pointed out various features of the forest to him. “Why don’t you show that bit to Uncle John as well?”

John, who had been passing to refill his drink, gamely detoured over to their log, discarding his mug and hoisting Roland up in the air. “Blimey – you’re one year heavier already, did you know that?”

“Am not!” Roland squirmed playfully around in protest, gasping when he accidentally tipped his treasure chest forward and the clouds splashed rainwater all over John’s face.

Robin was smiling to himself while he arranged the remaining gifts back into a pile, his gaze wandering a little more freely toward Regina now as she shifted around on the log, looking distinctly unsettled.

“Well, that’s my cue,” said Ruby cheerfully, standing with a leisurely stretch, and she felt Regina go rigid beside her, fork making an audible clatter against her plate.

“Where are you going?” Regina demanded abruptly, glaring up at Ruby like she’d just betrayed her somehow.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Ruby winked, biting back a grin as she saw Robin rise from his seat and clap a hand over John’s shoulder.

Regina made a half-outraged, half-incredulous sound, eyes darting from Robin back down to the plate of red cake crumbs like she’d just been caught red-handed with them.

Robin was watching Regina openly now, his expression soft, his smile going slightly crooked when she glanced back up and seemed unable to look away from him either.

Ruby took a small, slinking step back as Robin strode forward.

Regina froze, half-holding her plate like something that might shield herself from imminent contact.

“Get it, girl,” said Ruby encouragingly, and it was probably a lucky break that Regina didn’t appear to have heard her.

Poor thing looked uncertain enough as it was, watching Robin like she might be braced to take flight or to meet him halfway, and Ruby was not about to be the one who ruined this by saying the wrong thing.

Regina would have to learn not to do that all on her own.

Ruby casually edged her way around the campfire, tactfully averting her gaze when Robin passed by – anything else felt almost nosy now, when he was looking as soft as he did just from looking at Regina.

Of course, Ruby didn’t let that stop her from sneaking another peek once she’d reached the opposite end of the camp, angling herself just enough to overhear Robin hazard a “May I?” that was followed by a very stiff and prolonged silence.

But Regina didn’t appear to have made any particularly aggressive attempt to dissuade him (atta girl, thought Ruby with something like pride), because then Robin was settling down in the spot Ruby had just left, making himself comfortable while Regina eyed him with a wary sort of fascination.

He gestured to the cake crumbs in her lap, making a remark that Ruby couldn’t quite hear, and his entire face crinkled with a smile when Regina glanced away, looking startled but not entirely displeased with him.

John, who was being much more obvious in his eavesdropping, had wandered over to Ruby’s side to gape across the campfire at them with a suspenseful expression. “I give ‘em five minutes, tops, before he says something that makes her get all fussy again.”

Between John’s speculating and the sounds of Roland’s rainstorm swaying just beside her ear, Ruby gave up hope of hearing anything else – which was probably for the best, she conceded with a wistful sigh.

Still, she couldn’t help another sly look in their direction, peering past Roland’s treasure box forest to see Regina stealing her own furtive glance at Robin. He was gazing casually down at his hands, loosely clasped together, elbows leaning onto his knees in a relaxed sort of slouch. Regina had turned away again by the time he looked back up, and he ducked his head down to fight another smile.

Regina was straight-backed and square-shouldered, hands folded delicately around her plate with its scattering of crumbs. She looked for all the world as though she might have been sitting back on her throne in the castle instead, as opposed to some log at a child’s party in the middle of the woods.

But then Robin spoke again – something teasing, no doubt – and Regina blinked, some of that rigidness in her giving way to a pretty flush that she couldn’t possibly hide this time, and he bit a lip to know how flustered he’d just made her.

“What exactly did you put in that cake?” John wondered, half-impressed, half-alarmed.

Feeling just the tiniest bit smug, Ruby shifted her attention to Roland. “So, whatcha got there, kiddo?” she addressed him with a tilt of her chin, and he twisted happily around to show her, emptying another cloudful of rain onto John as he went.

“Regina made it for me!” grinned Roland while John mopped at his soggy beard. “Papa said he wanted to say ‘thank you’ before she tried to go away.”

John made a violent coughing sound.

“But I hope she doesn’t,” Roland continued, cradling his box and giving the plants a loving pat.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” asked Ruby, with a wink in John’s direction.

“Because then Papa smiles more,” said Roland, as a flowering vine curled fondly around his pointer finger.

If Ruby and John were unprepared for that answer, it was nothing compared to the sound of a laugh that suddenly broke through the air across camp, lively and full and entirely unrestrained in its amusement.

Robin was rubbing a palm over his chin, grinning into his hand while a pink-cheeked Regina gazed determinedly in the other direction. She reached up to brush at a lock of hair by her forehead, every inch of her poised and elegant as ever, but Ruby could swear she saw the flash of a smile show through before Regina was pressing her lips back together.

Neither Regina nor Robin seemed willing to break this shy, easy silence between them, but then they both glanced back at each other in the same moment, and looking away seemed impossible again.

He smiled a lopsided smile.

Her shoulders had lost their obstinate edges, the corners of her mouth growing soft as they gazed at one another, a cautious sort of wonder holding them both in place.

“Okay, time for us to stop staring now,” Ruby sing-songed to John under her breath in a hurry. With a great deal of reluctance, he let Ruby swivel him and Roland around just as Robin was angling sideways, reaching for the plate of crumbs in Regina’s hand.

“See, I told you,” said Roland, craning around to peer over John’s shoulder. “Papa’s doing it again.”

Smirking, Ruby sauntered off to help herself to another piece of cake.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 7. Regret

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Enjoy!

Tags:  @iammarylastar  @badassbaker  @pathybo @mimigemrose@frecklefaceb  @beltz2016  @ariwolff14  @lauraaan182 @kenzieam  @tigpooh67 @elaacreditava @equalstrashflavoredtrash

Eric should have kept his stupid mouth shut.

But as always, he was a high-flyer when it came to his thoughts and actions, whimsical even. And right now, he was going to pay the price.

Before, Abbey was a young girl he could practically shame or embarrass without so much as a second thought. She would never cry or show heavy emotions to him, never take anything too offensively and laugh it off, fight together and make up within the hour with no regard to what harsh words were said. They were both learning at the time and their relationship was fine.

Now, however, it was different. She was a woman with feelings, needs, attachments. Things he failed to recognize time and time again. He should have also learned of all these things by now... which he hadn't. He had troubles tapping into that blackened side of him. He had tried, for her - probably his first ever chase of a woman, only to disregard her feelings, put his own first with what he wanted and not what she needed.

He cursed his reputable training from Dauntless for some of it, asking himself how much of it was by personal choice or whether it was just created to survive. But then, he couldn't always blame that. He had to blame himself. After all, he was the one who allowed himself to become this way. He shut out all the things he associated with weakness. All the things Abbey had obviously opened herself up to... Feelings... Needs... Attachments. But if anyone was going to understand him, it would be her.

And that was why he would never give up on her.

No matter how much she hated him right now. No matter how long she wouldn't talk to him. He would not quit. He wasn't a quitter and he had no aims of adding that to his long list of attributes.

Abbey's hut is lit up like a beacon. He sighs in relief in not having to go around looking for her or possibly tracking via her band.

Once his boots hit the steps with a heavy thud, the door comes flying open, swinging precariously on its hinges, and a furious Abbey launches his duffel bag with such ferocity he's almost shocked at her strength.

"Abbey, I don't know how much you heard but you've got it all wrong."

She just slams the thing violently in his face.

"Seriously?" Eric says mainly to himself, his face quivering into a look of disbelief and verging anger. "Abbey open the fucking door!"

"Go away!" her muffled voice sounds from the other side. "Go away… I swear, I'll hurt you!"

Eric bites his lip, trying to contain the small lift of his cheeks and placing his hands in his pockets. "Let me guess," he says lightly, leaning up against the frame of the door, his face illuminated by a light coming from her kitchen window and he bats at a moth that hits his forehead. "After I've left, you're going to drink coffee and sit in the bath for over an hour while singing that stupid shit song to yourself." He hears movement from inside but she doesn't say anything. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You are not right!"

He chances a glance through the window, trying to not make any noise and she's flicking off the kettle – with force. "I can see you. Just open the door…"

"Fine, but I'm warning you…" She opens the door and he gives her a one-sided smile. However, she pushes him with both hands using all her pathetic weight. "No intentions of marrying me, huh?" She pushes him again. "Just wanted to ruin my chances of happiness and scamper back to Dauntless, did you?" Eric's now on the dirt track outside her house and she pushes him again. "An easy fuck because you already knew me and you were jealous that someone else was having me?" She looks absolutely crazy but completely fucking hot at the same time. He's trying his hardest… hardest to stay serious, but he can't, not with her. "And you're laughing!"

"I admit, I may have been jealous." A light flicks on from a nearby building. "Can we just go inside?" he motions with his head.

"No. We can't. Because I don't want you inside – Me, or my house…" she spits, uncaringly, digging him quickly with her eyes and trying to emphasize their meaning. Turning on her heel, she reaches the door slamming it closed without looking back – again.

Eric now actually considers her to look like a little pixie in her dinky, floaty dresses. A very angry pixie. And he still wants to fuck it.

"It's pointless trying to ignore me, Abbey. I'm a very hard person to hide from. Especially when I know what I want…" He waits a minute in case she felt a change of heart, but nothing. He sighs, shaking his head. "Have it your way…" he speaks to himself, "just for tonight."

It's busy, bright, bustling, and Eric has been non-stop harpooned with a series of different questions and situations. Right now, a group of Dauntless approach him while he's halfway chuffing a cigarette and he throws it arrogantly onto the floor near the feet of the closest member.

Eric watches as the young boy's eyes flicker down to his actions, then up to meet him. Eric smirks. "What is it? And if it's another fucking complaint about wristbands, frankly, I don't give a shit."

"No, Dom is sick. We need a replacement, "the young boy says, trying his best to steel his chest.

He doesn't know Dom and doesn't care. "What do you want me to do about it?" He throws a hand out towards the boy and he flinches, however, Eric taps the side of the Dauntless boy's head with an index finger roughly. "Were you dropped as a child? If someone is sick, send them to the nurse and find someone to cover… Use a fucking Amity for all I care! Just get it done, and don't hassle me."

Eric had every right to be in a bad mood. He'd fucked up. Abbey was angry with him and also running through his mind, which completely threw him off work. So much so, that he dreamt of her most of the night and could only imagine her curled up upset in the middle of her bed from words he had uttered. He had no worries though. He was confident Abbey would eventually succumb to him. They had too much history together.

"We don't want an Amity on our squadron…"

Eric's zoned out, and he catches sight of his main priority of the day, just like he was hoping. Having been in the most central location, it was just a matter of time. The young lads still talking as Eric just… walks off, towards the crowd.

Abbey's strolling with that dork with the glasses, huge long baskets swinging from their arms and he falls into pace with them. "Abbey…" Her eyes widen up to him and he roams down her orange polka-dot dress and the way she's tied her hair back for once. – Probably an act of defiance.

"Do you have no shame?"

"Well, you should know…" He smirks, catching the look the girl next to her sends him. "Threes a crowd. Bug off, four-eyes."

Abbey's mouth drops open. "No! She's not going anywhere…" She grabs a fistful of flowers and incorporates the same tactic she's probably used a hundred times before – and whacks him round the face with it. "C'mon Clem…" She grabs her friend by her arm and saunters off.

He probably deserved that.

Lunchtime pretty much winds up the same. But now he was starting to become desperate, a feeling he loathed.

Eric watches her walk in with a few people. She's still bouncy and expressive, but he can tell otherwise. Sometimes she would fade out and stare off and away from the others, shaking her head and sighing occasionally. No doubt it was him troubling her every thought, and cruelly he kind of enjoyed it.

He watches as they get into the queue and he makes his move. He closes the distance between them quickly and she's none the wiser as she slides her tray along.

Abbey's dithering over new potatoes or jackets as he steps up next to her, hovering over her shoulder. "Decisions, decisions…"

"Go away."

"Woah, Ab's, come on. I think it's time we put this behind us."

"This is just a game to you, isn't it? Don't you get it? I don't want to speak with you." Her ponytail almost hits him in the face as she flicks her head back and a waft of her usual shampoo deadbolts his stomach.

"This is not a game. You're childish by not listening or even being willing to talk to me. I'm just waiting for your signal to when-"

She flips him the bird. "How's that for your signal?" She then shoves her tray into his chest, her face a mix of mainly angry and frustrated emotions before storming out.

She's fantastic.

But this will be harder than he thought. "I guess she wasn't hungry…" Eric tells the person next to him who stares up with wide eyes. He dumps her tray upside down onto theirs, cluttering and mushing their food together.

Before he can stop himself and complain about how much he looks like a love-struck puppy, he's chasing out after her. She's walking swiftly, but he's taller and catches up without breaking pace. "Ab's!"

"Don't Ab's me! It's Abbey to you. I don't want to talk to someone who leads people on, uses them… and can't voice their intentions clearly. I would never have called off my engagement if I'd have known you weren't serious. Way to go, Eric. You ass!"

"I said I can't marry you and all you've clearly concentrated on is the word intentions, failing to ask me anything. Think about it – For. A. Fucking. Second."

She turns mid-step, marching back to him, poking him in the chest. "Don't try and make me appear stupid. Me and you fell from the same tree, but only one of us fell into the pile of shit… you!"

"Very creative. Now can we talk properly? Or shall we just shout at each other in front of everyone? Honestly, I don't care for which way-"

"I don't want you, Eric!" Abbey throws her hands to her head, obviously distraught. "That's the keyword for you to leave me alone, isn't it? I don't want you."

Eric peers down to the ground, he'll give her the two minutes of explosive anger at him if that's what she needs.

"I don't want someone who feels they can't marry me before they even ask me to. That there is absolute bullshit! Us. This… Thing – was never going to go anywhere. And never will…" Eric grabs her arm as she's walking away. "No, Eric!" she says sternly, yanking herself free. "Do you know what hurts the most? The simple fact you can't even say you love me." Searching his eyes, he exhales in defeat having not pre-empted her. "Just as I thought. Enjoy your stay at Amity and DON'T come looking for me again. I'm done."

This time he lets her go.

Abbey's pulling the plants out by the root, the mud flicking around her, and she could care less for Clem cautiously watching her every movement.

"Er, you want to … um, talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." Abbey's lips purse themselves into a fine line as she rips at another. "He's an asshole. The biggest…" A root gets stuck and she pulls harder, almost flying backward. "God damn it!"

Clem stifles a grin behind her. She obviously did want to talk about it but her pride had gotten the better of her.

"He's an asshole and now I'm the one left feeling guilty… I mean, how does that work? He should apologize."

"Has he tried?"

Abbey stops yanking at the flowers and breathes deeply, wiping at her forehead. "He said a few things, but not sorry. And I'm not apologizing first." She stands, letting the wind flutter around her to cool her burning skin. "…I said some really mean things. I said I didn't want him."

"Well, do you?"

Abbey frowns, mainly to herself, placing her hands on her hips and looking to the floor. "Of course I do. But I'm not happy with the fact he feels he can't be with me. I feel like he's trying to hide me away from everyone. I told him I loved him…" She shakes her head. "He didn't say it back. Never says it back. That there is just a joke." She bends over picking up the basket of flowers.

Clem follows behind her, their pace typically slow under the heat and through the tall grass, but she makes sure she caught up, just to be a pair of ears for her friend to vent to.

"I don't want to force him. I just want him to say it… at least once. It's always me..." She takes in the small crowd and hovering Dauntless further up the track. "I'm so stupid. I should've known. He's a Dauntless Leader now. For all I know he's got them all lined up at home, that's why he won't even consider marrying me. Why would he anyway? Look at me, I'm the opposite of everything he is."

"Abbey you're being stupid now. As a friend, I can say that. There's probably a reason why he can't. Yeah, you are opposites, but your stubbornness seems to be the same. Plus, marriage isn't everything."

"It is to me. It's commitment, loyalty… I'm just angry. I feel like an idiot. I need time to-" Abbey cuts short as something crunches underneath her foot. "What?" She crouches down, squinting at the patch of dirt that's been turned over.

Digging the turf with her hand, she pulls out wristbands and stares at them. Clem's mouth drops open. "I thought we couldn't take them off?"

Abbey stares at the three bands, holding them up in front of her. "No. No, we can't." For some reason, a blossom of worry but also excitement runs in her veins. "These have been cut."

"Why haven't Dauntless been alerted?"

Abbey shakes her head. "I don't know," then grimaces back over her shoulder to her friend.

Eric's sitting in the sweat-box barn and his feet lay heavy upon the desk. He's done nothing. And plans on doing nothing... And he's been smoking again.

Johanna hits the top step and takes in the unusual sight before her. "Hmm, let me guess. You've done something bad and this involves a certain someone." Johanna stops in front of him. "You are your own worst enemy."

"And you are the pain in my ass, Johanna," he quips off casually, falsely grinning at her.

"Max told me. He thought I should know in case of…" she sneers at the cup he's using as an ashtray. "This."

"I don't do heart to hearts, and especially not with the likes of you."

"Well, that's good because I haven't come here for that. I've come here to tell you that you're a fool. And a good thing too, look at you!" Bravely, the woman walks over and plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and stubs it in the cup to which he glares at her.

"I'll do things my way, Johanna. Your contribution is not needed." Eric shifts to sit up straighter, gradually feeling the prickling of heat rise from his chest and grips his hands together trying to control himself. He just wanted a peaceful afternoon and to be left alone. He should've known better; society can't seem to function without him.

"I just want the hard-working Dauntless Leader back overseeing everything who sometimes would crack a smile while lost in thought. And Max wants that, too…" Eric's lip snarls at the mere thought of Max discussing him with the likes of her. "How're your tactics working for you? Any closer to making Abbey listen?" His silence and rolling of his eyes tell her otherwise. "I thought as much."

Eric tilts back in his chair. "I suggest you leave now before I do something I probably won't regret."

"I wouldn't want to add another to your long list of regrets, Eric." Johanna smiles, rubbing her hands together before leaving to his annoyed stare.

Touché.

Throwing his legs back on the desk, he puts his hands behind his head. His expression softens and he floats back off into thought… until he hears multiple footsteps stomping the way up the steps.

"What is it now?" he barks, not looking for a second.

"I found something out in the field."

Eric's legs drop immediately from the desk and he stands, walking up to Abbey without a second thought. He eyes up the Dauntless guards next to her and flicks between her dirt covered hands and her hiding friend.

Abbey stands central, she was unafraid of him, but everyone else was. Eric wanted to touch her, but from her diverted eyes, she was still mad at him. So he keeps his face stony and signals to the guards to present him with whatever she found.

Wristbands. Cut wristbands. Each one identically vandalized and removed as the others. "Where?" His eyes flick up to hers and he catches her watching him.

"My field… The shop's field." She bounces on her heel. "Do you know where that-"

"Of course I know where that is," he puts bluntly and she audibly huffs, crossing her arms.

Eric squints to the Dauntless guards. "Appears we have some rebels on our hands. Send word. Search for anyone without a band and I want a group to take these to Erudite and figure out how they were removed and why we weren't informed."

"Yes, sir," they chime together and nod as they leave.

Abbey and Eric just stare at each other through the movement. Clem gives them both a curious look before removing herself, catching on to the unsaid hint. "I'll, er, um, catch you later..."

"Can't stay away?" Eric leers, turning his back on Abbey.

"I was dragged here." Her arms are still crossed, watching after him.

"Convenient, isn't it? You could have refused."

"Yeah… right."

"I'm enjoying my stay in Amity by the way. Thanks. Oh, and it looks like you found me, not the other way around." Eric sits behind the desk, fully expecting her to walk away at any moment. "I remember you saying you were done but you obviously aren't if you're still standing here, so what is it?"

"My God, I thought for a split second you may have been brave enough to apologize or something, but still with your crappy attitude!"

"Apparently, we fell from the same tree, Abbey." He gives her a cool smirk. "I'm not apologizing and you won't get one. I won't marry you and live happily ever after… Because. I. Can't." Abbey goes to leave. "Don't you keep walking away!" She's finally hit a nerve. "You stay here and you listen!" His tone had taken on the same one he used for initiates. He actually didn't like speaking to her that way.

"No!" She barely reaches the top step as he closes the distance and drags her back, pulling her till she's sat in Johanna's chair and he places both his arms either side of her, trapping her. Abbey stops fighting and looks up at him wide-eyed, before frowning… frowning… at him in utter defiance.

"You, are the most annoying, infuriating, difficult, obnoxious woman I've ever known." He hushes her as she opens her mouth to say something. "Shut up and listen to me very carefully. What I said to Max-" He's leaned in incredibly close to her and he can feel her elevated breaths batting at his face. "Is completely true. I'm not a bitch. I won't deny the truth or what I said. But if you heard the rest of the conversation we wouldn't be like this."

"What is the truth then, Eric?"

He shakes his head, avoiding her eyes for a minute before fixing back on her solidly. "With me, you are in danger. We're not kids anymore. We have responsibilities. You are one of my responsibilities."

"Don't speak of me like an inanimate object!"

"Fuck you, Abbey. Don't twist my words." She slaps him, hard, and he sucks at his cheek. "People want me dead. If you're with me, they will go after you too. I don't want that."

"Don't make this about you trying to protect me. I'm safer with you, you know that. People already know of us anyway so what's the difference?"

"It makes it official. An open file to anyone who wants to take a look."

"Oh yeah, that's right! That means commitment again, doesn't it?" She slaps him again unexpectedly and he grabs her wrists, tilting the chair back and holding her off balance, trying to force back the snarl that's threatening to expose itself.

"If you want to fight me, go ahead. If it makes you feel any better." Abbey kicks him directly in the shin. – It isn't the first time.

He winces but he takes it, then pulls off her stupid ballerina shoe and lobs it across the room. He does the same with the other before yanking her to her feet and spinning her around until her back hits his chest. The whole time she fights against him and he lets her, feeling her slowly beginning to tire. Back in the day, they would play fight continuously untl one of them got hurt. But they weren't thirteen anymore.

"Stop this, Ab's. This is not us," he whispers gently next to her ear even though his jaw is tight.

Abbey pants, dropping slightly in his arms. She wipes at her face and he guesses that she's crying again. "There is no us. Not like this," she quietly mumbles. "Why did you have to come back? Why now?" She turns against him, burying herself against his jacket.

"This is not just about what I said, is it? You blame me for not being here, even after all this time. But I'm here now, and you're making a big mistake."

Pushing him away, her hand goes to her mouth. "I can't… I can't do-" She flees in the same manner as the night she overheard them, and Eric kicks the desk.

"Fuck!"

She wasn't wearing any shoes…

There is a few of the Dauntless around Eric. The young boy that always seems to be ready to command and some others. They are sieving through the crowds, watching every single person without saying a word to each other.

The Dauntless around him hold their guns loosely in front of them. Eric, however, prefers the small handheld, and that still sits on his thigh. Every now and again his hand would shift to it, lightly grazing across it as he fended off the terrible urge to pull it and cap someone in his annoyed front.

From in the distance he can see Johanna approaching slowly, huffing and puffing from the heat until she comes to a stop in front of him, blocking his view completely. "I brought you this," she presents him with a thin, long box and Eric peers over his shoulders at the others, a little unsure of what was inside.

"Get going. Keep on top of the checks," he orders casually and steps towards Johanna as the others disperse around him. His hands find themselves behind his back as he looks down at her. "What is it?"

"Tomorrow night is the flower harvest. It's tradition to-"

"What…" Eric interrupts her. Shaking his head and peering around him agitatedly, Johanna begins to unfold a piece of paper from one of her multiple pockets.

"Tomorrow night is our yearly flower harvest, Eric. Though, it probably won't be as nice as all the other years in the recent weather."

"Don't you think we should have been told? We can't risk a distractive, obsolete night when we are on the verge of terrorism." Eric grabs at the papers and views the small descriptive plans of the evening. "A Bonfire? Gathering? Are you fucking insane?"

"We will not let the unrest get to our faction. If we cancel tomorrow night, we can say goodbye to Amity's spirit and peace," Johanna says sternly, peering up at him. "It's tradition."

"And when were you planning on letting Dauntless know?"

"It's been on the cards a few times but, as I suspected, it's been overlooked." Eric shakes his head about to say something but Johanna raises her voice… and her nose. "It's going ahead, with or without you."

"You are in no position to be overriding my say."

"Please, Eric…" Johanna begs. "This is my faction. It means a lot to the people here."

"Is this why Abbey has been in the fields? For this stupid harvest?"

"She's been planning ahead, yes. This is her area after all."

Now it all makes sense. The wild flowers. The fields. He couldn't fathom before why Abbey would be so busy this time of year, now he knows. Eric takes a long second, biting his cheek and swearing inside his mind repeatedly. "Dauntless will be present." Johanna thanks him to which he ignores. He wasn't doing it for her. "And what's that?" he motions to the thin box in her hand.

"Take a look."

Hesitantly, he takes the misshapen box and opens it quickly. "What the fuck am I going to do with this?" He shrugs with one small, unique flower in full bloom situated inside it.

"It's a sign of peace. You give it to someone," she frowns at him, then slowly softens with a sigh. "Give it to Abbey."

"You want me to give Abbey a stupid flower?" After their last argument, he would be surprised to even set eyes on her again.

"It's not just a flower, Eric. It's a white carnation. She will know the meaning of it."

Eric scoffs, shutting the lid on it. "She won't even talk to me, let alone accept a gift from me... And she knows I hate flowers."

"Maybe it will make her listen." This damn woman was too hopeful.

"Fine."

"You'll give it to her?" Johanna says with excitement.

"I'll think about it. Now leave me alone."

Johanna's smile reaches from ear to ear. "I knew there was still hope for you yet, Eric." – Try telling Abbey that.

"Yeah, and you're still a wench!" he calls out after her retreating form.

Taking one large breath, he pushes the door and listens to the sickening chime it makes as it opens. He's here, the germination station, once again.

This time though, everything feels wrong, like he shouldn't be here.

Sandra peers up from behind the counter and almost sighs at the sight of him. "She's not here."

"Good."

He throws a look around the reeking shop before landing back on Sandra. "I have something for Abbey. Can you make sure she gets it?" He leans on the desk; a tactic of intimidation he had practiced over the years.

"Well, yes. I can. What is it?" The older woman says cautiously and Eric squints at her prying for a mere second before softening.

"A… flower." His tone is confused and slightly irritable. He'd never really given a gift to anyone before and particularly not flowers, not in his wildest dreams.

Sandra almost smiles, almost, but keeps herself neutral, holding a hand out. "What type of flower?"

As much as Eric didn't want to get into this conversation or even waste any more time on it, he can't help his own curiosity on what it actually meant. He opens the box as he says, "A white carnation."

"Do you know what this means?"

"Do I look like I know what it means, Sandra?"

"Okay. Well, it means pure love. Telling the person you think they are kind, the perfect symbolization of someone you've loved for a long time, and especially singular, it means you've thought about it." She seems to stare down at the flower saying the words, dreaming of something, or someone, in her mind.

Eric mouths 'What the fuck' to himself and stands rigidly straight. "Whatever. Can you just give it to her?"

"I most certainly will," she nods. "Anything else you want me to pass on to Abbey?"

Eric glares at the woman, then plonks Abbey's ballerina's on the counter. "No." Then turns on his heel.

The bell chimes as he leaves and Sandra breathes a sigh of relief, watching him carefully till he's out of sight. "He's gone!" she calls out and Abbey appears from the back, chewing her nails restlessly. "Should I ask?" Sandra motions towards her shoes.

Abbey's chest begins wracking before breaking into a full sob into the palm of her hands.

Sandra hurries over and pulls her in, hugging her. "From my point of view, you’re both in the same amount of pain. It's silly..."

And Sandra was right.

It's in the dark of night when he's left with idle thoughts and nothing to distract him when everything hits the hardest.

He's stripped off, lying on top of the covers, listening to the bugs hitting the window. Amity is quiet. Too quiet. He wonders for a second if this is what being home-sick felt like. But then again, did he really miss Dauntless – or a certain free-spirited woman who throws his life into turmoil?

That god damn wench set him up. Big time. Flower of peace… bitch. But still, he did the one thing that Abbey would've loved, even if it pained him greatly to do it. He managed, it didn't mean that it still didn't fully embarrass him or even bring his ego down a notch. But fuck it, he gave her the flower.

He actually can't believe he's wondering about what she's doing right now. Was she sleeping? Eating? …Or perhaps thinking about him in the same way he was thinking about her?

It's a little early for him to be in bed and when his phone begins vibrating next to him he's hardly surprised. "Max…" he answers, a little less fierce than usual.

"Sorry to call, but they didn't have your number so they asked if I could." Max hesitates and Eric sits up, a slither of panic corrupting him in the moment's pause.

"…It's your Mom."

"Mr. Coulter," the skinny man in the white lab-coat addresses Eric the moment he throws open the two-way door and storms in, looking completely menacing and irate. His uniform stains the pristine whitewash Erudite hospital and he watches as people eagerly fling themselves out of his way.

"Where is she?" Eric demands, his knuckles turning white as he digs his nails into the palm of his hand in distraction while his eyes glaze over, scouring every doorway in sight.

"I'll take you to her as soon as you calm down. You're scaring some of the nurses."

"Do I look like I care? Where is my Mother?!" He tries to step past and the Doctor stops him. The doctor's expression grows loose and he places a hand on his shoulder. Eric knows this look, the same one he got when he found out about his Father.

"We've held out as long as we could but her organs are failing. There isn't much time."

"She was fine, there was nothing wrong..." Eric trails off, reading the man's face in front of him very carefully. "She didn't tell me."

"She's been a regular patient for the past year. The preventative treatment was going well, but gradually it has been becoming ineffective as the symptoms worsen."

Was that how long it had been? Why didn't she tell him? "I want to see her. Now!"

"Of course." The doctor motions him forward and he bites back the sting in his eyes, trying to keep his composure. They reach a white door with a number on and he's waved through. Bracing himself, he takes a large breath of hospital-potent air and turns to face the bed. She's hooked up to various machines, a ventilator, a heart-monitor and multiple IVs. In that moment, he realizes his Mother's life is artificial.

"What is it?" Eric speaks very quietly, unable to look away.

"Pancreatic… But it's spread. She is highly sedated." The doctor's smile is mutual, almost flat, his words grave. "I'll leave you. Call if you need anything."

Eric doesn't answer him and coldly stares down at his Mom. He is expressionless while he waits for the Doctor to leave. Taking two steps forwards after the door clicks behind the Doctor, he tucks his chin to his chest, anchoring himself down by pulling at the material inside his pockets.

"I should've…" he tries to say and then stops himself. "It's too late for apologies." There's a plastic seat next to her bed and he neatly sits himself into it.

Throwing his hands to his face, he rubs his eyes till specks of white gather and he exhales out, feeling like he hadn't breathed from the moment he walked in. "Everything's fucked…" he tells her. "You'd be having a right laugh. The one thing you never complained at me over was meeting Abbey. Now, I've gone and fucked that up as well." He looks up between his fingers, wanting to hold her hand and doesn't know whether he should. In the end, he forces himself to touch her. She's warm but the skin almost translucent and he's afraid of hurting her. The usual life is gone from her normally strong and comforting touch. "Tell me what to do…"

He sits back in his seat, knowing he's never really going to get a reply. But he waits anyway.

Eric stands outside the door as Doctors requested her body was moved to the morgue until further preparations had been made. He watches as they take a more standard bed inside the room and he tries to ignore the flashing images of them moving his Mother's lifeless body, momentarily closing his eyes.

When the door swings open he clears his throat, watching as they shuffle her cot with her body covered. Trying to hold his breath was futile, it wanted to wrack, wanted to break… he had no one now. But regardless, he stands with his hands behind his back, completely still.

He doesn't notice when someone steps up next to him, and his eyes chance a glance down to the smaller person beyond his shoulder. Abbey's wet face tries to smile up to him, then her hands find his and she squeezes as tight as she can, and he allows her.

If anything, her presence is softening the repeated blows he's recently taken from a hard, unpredictable, and shitty life.

As they wheel the cot away, Abbey moves towards it, placing Eric's unique flower on top of the covers.

She bites at her lip, then crumbles completely and Eric draws her in, cupping her head and shielding her from the hideous bright lights and curious glances.

She cries for the both of them.

Eric brings the Dauntless truck to a stop. The engine dying when he pulls the key and he peers over to Abbey shoved up against the opposite door asleep, her cheeks still stained. She fell asleep crying and they hadn't really talked, in fact, they hadn't said a word.

The only person he'd spoken to before he left the hospital was Max. He offered his condolences and told him he'd authorized Abbey to go. It was laughable really, Max knew Eric more than he knew himself sometimes, and for that he was grateful. – Though he would never tell him.

Throwing the door open, the air is fresh and birds sing in the early morning, promising another glorious day ahead. Amity is deadly quiet, not a movement and the paths empty. Eric rounds his way towards Abbey's door and opens it slowly. She jumps a little but he catches her and for a minute she seems confused, eyes fluttering as she slips down into his arms, rubbing her face exhaustedly.

If he was protective and taken by her before, the feelings had only intensified and then some. Eric had come to the conclusion that he'd finally found his weakness, now his only weakness: Abbey Ainsworth. "Come Ab's," he tugs at her and she wobbles. He sighs exasperatedly and picks her up, her legs hooked over his arm and she holds onto him.

He can feel her staring up at him as he walks but he didn't want to recognize it, his mood was basic, and he got the feeling she knew. This time he takes her back to the place where he was staying, throwing the door open with little effort and placing her on the bed. His clothes are discarded and she wiggles out of the stupid dress she was wearing and waits for him. They don't hug it out, they don't entwine their bodies, Eric didn't want that, he didn't want her remorse. While flat on his back, she just laces her fingers through his, wordless.

Eric doesn't sleep.

"Why were you late, dipshit?" Eric snaps at the young Dauntless boy, his tone agitated and foul. His eyes sting and he feels slightly removed from himself, as if going through the motions, watching his life play out in front of him. "You think we are here for fun?" He can almost see the boy shake from where he sits behind Johanna's desk. He didn't even need to impose body language to frighten people today, just the air around him was enough. "What is your name?" This was the same boy he'd been liaising with a few times and he'd only gotten around to recognizing him.

"Caden," the young lad eventually replies.

"Well, Caden… Take this moment as your last fuck-up. I have a feeling that everyone here is a little too relaxed for my liking. Do you want to go back to Dauntless with a bad report? Do you know what happens if you get a bad report?"

"Er…"

Eric's being unreasonable, he sort of knows, but he can't help the anger that's built up inside of him. "They get sent to the fucking wall for the rest of their days. Is that what you want?"

"Of course I-"

"Then stop pissing me off!" he practically roars. "Get out of my sight." – Leave before he does something he may regret.

The boy spins on his heel and almost runs into Johanna.

"Fuck off, Johanna," Eric spits as she treads across the wooden floor of her office.

"I've come to offer my condolences on your loss. I take it that you may be absent in the next few days while you make arrangements for your Mother," she says confidently, but her body language speaks differently.

"It's taken care of. Now, I reiterate… fuck off." Eric signs something on the desk barely looking at her.

"Maybe you should take some time off?"

"Maybe you should listen for once in your God. Damn. Life," Eric snipes a horrible look at her, just with his eyes, barely moving his head. "I'm busy. Don't bother me."

"Very well." When Johanna leaves, he does take a moment to stare up after her, the blood boiling in his veins.

Suddenly something solid hits him directly in his chest and he brings an arm across all the paperwork in front of him. Grabbing a cup, he launches it across to the other side of the room and stands, kicking the chair over. Trying to restrain his hands by his sides, scared of what other damage he may cause, he walks over to the window… Then he puts his fist through it.

"Eric, what have you done?!" Abbey runs over to him from outside her shop, dropping the flower bouquet on the ground without so much as a second thought. She reaches him and he tries to ignore her question. "Eric!" But he doesn't slow down, just keeps walking. When she grips his arm, he shrugs her off.

"Not now." He has his sights set on a Dauntless patrol that he'd witnessed just casually chatting between themselves and barely acknowledging the people around them.

"Eric, no!" she says with force, pulling on his arm again. "You're bleeding. Look." She's merely an annoying fly hanging off him.

"Like I didn't notice, Ab's."

"Fucking STOP!" He does, glaring at her and also catching her as a reflex as she trips from his abrupt halt. "Come home with me."

"No, I-"

"Today is a shit day, I know. I'm feeling it, too. Just come home with me." Abbey's eyes well up and Eric kisses his teeth. He didn't want to see her like this. "Eric, please. Stay with me." The wind kicks up her hair and he can feel the red-hot hate slowly degenerating. "She was like a mother to me, too. Please, don't push me away."

Eric diverts his eyes, but once she pulls him again, he allows himself to follow. His anger was flat-lined.

They walk silently, and he notes the way she doesn't look at him, nor says anything else. They get back to hers and she takes him to the sink, running water over his hand and he watches her face. She still doesn't look at him.

"Why won't you look at me?" The questions erupts from him before he can think it through. He watches as she shifts slightly next to him, and then he hisses as she pulls a splinter from his knuckles unexpectedly. His other hand covers hers and she does eventually peer up at him, although it was fleeting.

"Because… because I can see how much pain you're in. Everyone else probably can't. But I can. You're covering it with your anger. But I can… feel it when I look at you." She sucks on a plump lip and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"You can feel me?" Eric says condescendingly, lifting his good hand up to her chin, the water dripping from it and down her neck as he tilts her head up. Her eyes flick between his and her mouth parts slightly. He'd wanted to touch her this way for days, and right now he needed to touch her, his thoughts dilapidating back to earlier. Feelings. Needs. Attachments. Those three things he now shared with her. "What else can you feel from me?"

"I can feel… you. I - I can, feel how much you love me, even though you won't say it and no matter how much you try and deny it. To me, or yourself…"

"Oh, is that so?" Eric shuts the tap off without looking, moving closer to her and she inhales sharply. "What else?"

"I can feel you don't want to be alone. And you feel alone."

Eric drops his hold, pulling himself away from her. He leans on the counter, putting his whole weight into his arms. One of her hand's stroke down the length of his back.

"You don't have to be alone."

"I'm not alone, Abbey. I have an entire faction backed up behind me. That's hardly fucking alone."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Eric tries to pull away but she grips his bicep. "Don't. Don't go. Stay here, with me. Lie down with me." She tries to hide her trembling lips. She felt strained from the amount of crying she'd been doing recently. Eric's Mother's passing was just another huge blow and if anything, it proved that life was too short to idle over petty things.

"I don't want to lie down. I want to fucking kill something."

"Even more reason for you to stay here. Don't do something you'll regret."

There's that word again. Regret. Everything he touches is doused in regret… He'll regret not accepting her offer.

Abbey laces her fingers through his good hand on the counter and tilts her head. "Please. I need you to lie down with me."

Need. One of Abbey's three things.

Slowly but surely his resistance gives in. She passes him a towel and then they make their way to her bedroom. She lies on her back, never letting him go and he fits on his side beside her. She stares at him for a while, holding the towel over his hand for him and he bites his cheek in thought, eventually relaxing back and she blinks tiredly.

Abbey hums her shit song quietly until Eric eventually doesn't hear it anymore.

He falls asleep first.

"Ab's, what is the time?" Eric is frantic as he sits up. He's unused to being clueless. All he knows is that it's dark. "I better go."

Abbey hums from the bed still half-asleep.

"Ab's, get up. Tonight... Hippy flower harvest."

She's up in a blink of an eye. "Shit, shit, shit." She scrambles off the bed, practically falling and Eric catches her. "Are you coming tonight?" she slurs, her hair poking up while in his arms.

"It's my job."

She kisses his lips habitually, a sweeping moment washing over her in her actions as she almost blushes. "I better… take a shower…"

"I'll ...see you there."

Eric's watching the snaking flames lick into the dark sky. There's music by a band playing to one corner, and for that, he's allowed himself a mugful of wine.

He's here for two reasons: One is for safety. The other is to keep an eye on Abbey.

Security has been upped for the night. All of the Dauntless based at Amity are hovering in the surrounding areas and all Eric can manage to concentrate on is the burnt smell of lavender bleeding into his nostrils, fully wishing that Abbey would turn up soon so he can get rid of his twisted gut feeling and away from the area.

He's about to finish his cup and throw it to make another skirmish around the perimeter when something catches his eye. It's caught his eye for the main reason that the woman is looking directly at him. She's dressed in white, the dress almost to the floor and flowing behind her. There were random braids either side of her head and a crown of white flowers sitting neatly on top. When she stops directly in front of him, she's situated at the height of his chest, peering up. And for a minute he thinks he's been spiked.

"Abbey?" His hands are immediately on her, fingertips running through the ends of her hair and sliding down her shoulders. She's wearing minimal makeup, but whatever is framing her eyes makes them glow electric green and quite hauntingly fascinating.

"Hi, Eric." She half smiles, watching his hands for a split second. For a moment, she peers down at her clothes embarrassed, then grabs at the length of the dress and twirls. "You like? It's tradition…"

"You look…" He needs to find the right words, but in fact, he had none. She was the opposite of everything he'd seen from the last three years. Most of the time it was fierce, muscled woman with dyed hair and bathed in tattoos that usually graced his presence. She was none of those things… and he liked it.

Looking down, she tries to cover her uncertainty, but he pulls at the flimsy fabric and she lands against him. "Be gentle with me," she breathes.

"You know that's not going to happen." He grips her jaw like he usually does and makes her look at him directly in his steel eyes. "Are you feeling refreshed from our little nap earlier?"

She thinks about it for a second, playfully. "Yeah."

"Good."

"You're becoming a really bad habit of mine…." She's trying her best not to lean into him, her back arched but held fully into his body. Both their eyes dance from eyes to lips and she feels she's about to ignite.

"Oh yeahhh…" Eric says lowly, leaning towards her, watching as her lips part. He smiles to himself.

A flash of light goes off next to them and Eric stares down the kid with the camera in his hand. The brat freezes and stutters, "It's for the harvest…" before pelting away from them and into the darkness.

"Hmm, seems I'll have to get a print and put it next to my mirror," Abbey says, looping her arms around his neck.

"Like fuck."

Abbey whacks his back. "I'll need something to remind me… of you… when you… go back to Dauntless." She loses concentration as he begins sucking on her neck, trying not to moan as his teeth grazing along the delicate skin.

"I can leave you with a little something of me when I go back to Dauntless."

She tries to laugh but it's distorted while he's at her neck. "That was the worst. Also, stop doing that, I don't want marks."

"Fine."

Eric kisses her hurriedly, pulling her closer and she lets him. He lets his tongue slide over her lips and pauses momentarily to catch her eyes to see what truly laid behind them. What he finds is everything he was expecting, and so much more.

"I'm sorry." The words slip from him without his acknowledgment. But right now - he doesn't care.

"Me, too." She pulls at him, then deliberately slows her movements against his mouth, trying desperately to express what she felt through their touch.

"Fuck…" Eric groans as she heads along his jawline. "Keep going and I'll fuck you right here in your pretty little dress, right in front of all your Amity lot. Maybe they'll cheer." He listens as she chuckles against him, placing her head against his chest.

"I've missed you. Let's never do that again. I don't care for anything but you. I don't care about intentions or differences... the thought of losing you... my god, I just-" Her eyes clamp shut.

"You do have a wicked little temper on you… I actually really wanted to shove my d-"

"Eric! You're ruining this moment."

Eric grabs her hand in his and begins leading her away from the shadowy figures of the night.

"I've only had this dress on for half an hour," Abbey smiles up at him. "I haven't even presented the display yet…"

"No shits given and half an hour too long. I've got you now and you're coming with me." Even though she's reluctant, she allows him to pull her, all the while smiling. "Good girl," he says thickly as her fingers lock harder against his.

Mark sits on a wooden, hand-crafted log with his men, finishing the cup of drink in his hand and using the toe of his boot to nudge one of the nearest around him. One flick of his head and they stand, leaving him to stare out over the fire, his eyes lit up red and orange as a small lop-sided smile begins to form on his face.

In the black of his pupils, the reflective image of Eric walking away with Abbey hand-in-hand, appears to be his main focus.

[webuyofficial]

Why IEO Needs POTS

The blockchain was conceived as a transparent platform by which middlemen are removed and no one controls the data which are viewable by all. DLT (Distributed Ledger Technology) and Decentralization are catchwords meant to motivate success but why have so many ICOs failed?

A survey earlier this year by news.bitcoin.com found that despite raising $3.88 billion in 2017 (per Coinschedule.com) 46 percent of all the ICOs launched in 2017 ended as failures. The survey looked at data for over 900 crowd sales and concluded that nearly half failed either during their fundraising, or later by not delivering a product.

Lofty intentions outlined in roadmaps, onboarding of venerable advisors, skilled developers, security testing before launching — what could go wrong? Well, many things, due to ineptitude, wrong assumptions, misplaced trust, the unpredictability of operations, variations in cost centers, and a host of other unseen factors popping up throughout the proposed roadmap.

Thus, any proposed project needs to pass through a simple screening of SIX questions which I will soon demonstrate.

Comparing POTS versus IEO

Two new players on the block are pitted against each other and have everybody jumping — Production-Oriented Token Sale (POTS) and Initial Exchange Offering (IEO).

WeBuy is pioneering POTS, a new concept for blockchain based projects which is formulated in order to meet the challenges normally faced during and after an ICO. It relies on a realistic, transparent, round-for-round funding, that requires detailed feedback and reporting, including a clarification in terms of how demand for the WBY token will be created.

Meanwhile, we also have IEOs which rely on having an exchange (or set of exchanges) function as the counterparty. Developers mint the project’s tokens and send them to the exchange, which will then sell the tokens to individual contributors for Ether.

As you can see, POTS goes past the ICO-funding stage and to the most critical stage of project implementation.

Let’s apply my screening questions.

Were there any assets used as security that an MVP can be created to test the project’s blockchain functionality?

POTS funding provided by the project’s founders will be used to complete development of the minimal viable product (MVP).

IEO acts as an intermediary between a developer (who conceptualized and launched the project) and the buyers of the tokens. Other than this relationship, nothing else is required from exchanges or developers.

Were there any ongoing successful businesses which served/will serve as prototypes in envisioning the success of the project?

The first round or stage of POTS-related funding will start and run in unison with the full-scale pilot. The full-scale pilot aims to monitor real life penetration of the WeBuy model, generate feedback and suggestions in terms of improvements and best ad products to use, shed light on limitations or challenges, and a real-time estimate of how much funding is needed for market penetration (based on a single market example).

IEO participants have no direct influence on the outcome of the project itself, not even on the values of the tokens as bought from the exchanges. All the conditions concerning tokens are set between the developer and the exchange. An exchange does not have to be decentralized (till date there have been no IEOs conducted on decentralized exchanges) to conduct an IEO which places contributors in a very precarious position.

Do the contributors play a key role in the direction of the roadmap?

Participants have a major role to play to make POTS successful. The WeBuy application (Android version only) will be available for download via Google Play in pre-defined geographical locations — it will feature general info, user guides, and a portal to report bugs or make suggestions. An End User License Agreement (EULA) will be available via both the app and WeBuy website. Email support will be available 24/7.

For IEO, conditions which include capping the contribution per individual and having a fixed price per token are set ONLY between the developer and the exchanges.

Are the participants direct beneficiaries of the POTS?

Registering and passing the KYC on the WeBuy website will allow individuals to receive a bonus. Bonuses will be announced and made available by registering with WBY.io/Join as soon as POTS stage 1 begins.

IEOs make it significantly more difficult to scam contributors who know that they can only purchase the token from the exchange. This is a benefit for participants/contributors but there is no guarantee for project success.

Token prices may fall based on supply and demand and many other factors, but if a project is based on an actual product, as in the case of POTS, there will be the utility to add to the value of the token, in this case, the WBY token.

Are risks taken by the founder as well?

For the POTS, the founder had put his money in his money so that an MVP could be fully developed and tested in a pilot. Every business owner needs to take the risk and invest with his money on the project.

For the IEO, the risks are more on the funds from the exchanges finding their way back to the developer/founder at the point of his need. While the intention is to prevent the founder from “misusing the funds”, there is still no built-in guarantee that the funds will be in ”safer hands” and released. Will there be a successful implementation for moving the project?

Tapping on the existing user base of the exchange to obtain contributions for the IEO puts more of the risks on the users and none on the developer.

Are full transparency and reporting implemented?

POTS participants get to know what’s happening everywhere so they can know where the project is going. As previously mentioned, the full-scale pilot aims to monitor real life penetration of the WeBuy model, generates feedback and suggestions in terms of improvements and best ad products to use, shed light on limitations or challenges, and a real-time estimate of how much funding is needed for market penetration (based on a single market example).

The IEO cannot prevent anyone from slipping away with the bulk of the funds but in the POTS, monitoring and reporting before more funds are raised.

After the POTS pilot, WeBuy plans to release the first operational WeBuy platform in April, 2019, have at least one local community using WeBuy, have a market penetration strategy ready based on real-time testing, and have accurate budget estimates for stage 2 of POTS.

In the case of IEO, there was no mention of any reporting or accountability on the disposition of funds to participants. The IEO also functions as a vote of confidence from the exchange and sponsor, which has to conduct its own due diligence on the developer’s project. This can turn up like a spider’s web welcoming the hapless contributor who also needs to apply his own due diligence on the project.

Final Reckoning

Summing up, I daresay, IEOs are money making ventures where the influx of new users and their deposits are the main agenda. Some of these new users may eventually become loyal users of the exchange. I expect several exchanges attempting to carve out a niche by running IEOs.

On the other hand, POTS are run in order to build up industries and improve lives utilizing the full benefits of the blockchain in some or most of its operations. It can transform whole systems, improve operations, generate more jobs, and uplift economies.

IEOs and POTS may be countercultures but I’m hoping there will be a crossroad where the two can meet and be merged into something more humane and life changing for the greater population.

Learn more about POTS here.

The WBY token will fuel the rapidly increasing volumes of online-to-offline commerce.

Join Production-Oriented Token Sale (POTS)

Cost Per Token: $0.25

Stage 1 Starts 25th March 2019

Accepted Currencies: FIAT + Cryptocurrencies

Buy it at best value while you still can.

[tinytoesandfurrypaws]

Welcome to February, and being very late to joining the “Welcome 2018” train, Happy New Year?  From the Dog Trainer Mama perspective, January was pretty interesting…the entire month simply got away from me!  The kids went back to school, the holidays are over, and we are immersing ourselves back into all of our after school sports, academics, and play dates. So where does that leave my dogs while I get my crap together? At home. Up until the past few weeks, my dogs normally free roam the house when we leave, and it’s not an issue. I can’t say it’s never been an issue, because while Karma was amazing from day one, Vino had a normal puppy stage of nonsense thefts, and chewing.  He was always a food motivated little weirdo, but we worked through it, and he’s learned a healthy respect for what is mine…until recently.

This week alone, I’ve had multiple clients contact me about their dogs “suddenly becoming destructive for no reason”.  I kind of chuckle when I think about what our idea of “for no reason” is, and what the reality is behind it.  So I decided to put myself on blast for a moment, and let me be the example, and the learning moment for all of you, because it can seriously happen to ANYONE!

I want you to disconnect from your relationship with the struggling dog, in this case, we will use Vino.  Forget what their past was for just a moment, and let’s talk about what the current issue is.  Vino is stealing food off of tables, counters, and various locations if it’s unattended, and if you have turned your back.  He has been tearing apart his beds, blankets, boxes he finds, and various kids toys.  In 15 years of dog ownership, I have never had a dog dig through the trash…well Vino can now check that off of his bucket list.  He can also thank that adventure for his crate time when I leave the house now.  I am often surprised at how many of my clients have assumed that damage and “acting out” is just okay, but it’s not, it means something!

I Don’t think I really have a problem – So in reality, the first step is realizing there is an issue with your situation to begin with.  IF you leave home, knowing that you will return to potty accidents, or damage to your personal items, and property, then this is likely going to be pretty helpful to your household.  Because…Those things should NOT be happening.  Period.  You shouldn’t have to pick up the aftermath of your dog when you get home everyday, and this doesn’t sound like the set up for a super healthy companionship to thrive in.  It is, however, a pretty good sign that your dog is missing something, and is replacing those energy release needs with what he CAN get to.  Which is your wall…

Taking responsibility – Now that we know there is a problem, we move on to our second part…which, in this case, is taking responsibility for my part in all of this.  This is why I find the “for no reason” comment so amusing, there is ALWAYS a reason.  Around the first part of November, we caught the nasty flu bug, and it circulated our house (NO JOKE) for 2-3 straight months.  It felt like death (really, Ava was even hospitalized at one point!)…which means, a lot of my normal activities stopped for about that same amount of time.  In reality, it messed with our daily walks, I stopped running with them in the evenings, our training sessions were not as often, or as long, we haven’t attended a class, and all in all, their normal exercise (both mental and physical) was seriously lacking.  When you take into account what my dogs are used to doing on a daily basis, it’s even harder for them to do next to nothing.  Karma is great at bouncing back to and from down time, but Vino needs much more than she does.  We had a few instances each day, where we would leave to take Aiden to school, and come back to find that he had snagged ANYTHING he could find, and devoured it…it’s dangerous for him, and frustrating for me. Remember above, when I said it’s not normal to expect disaster, and clean up when you come home…good example!  So obviously we crated him when we left from that point on…good start, so…I’m done now, right?  Nope.

I’ll just get a crate – The crate can, and is, a reasonable way to react to destruction.  The dog clearly can’t be cool when he’s free, and alone for a lot of reasons. I don’t want to dismiss a perfectly safe option based on sympathy (you had no problem putting up play pens for your baby so he didn’t stick his finger in an electrical socket…just sayin’…). Safety really is my biggest point with crating, i don’t want to leave my dog alone if he can get into dangerous items, or find himself caught in precarious places.  However, another important point is how it is going to effect our connection (or “bond”) by leaving my dog in a position to constantly destroy my home, and my things. While crating is a good start, it’s NOT the only thing needed here.  Shutting your dog into a small space instead of dealing with the underlying issue is more of a “bandaid” for the moments I cannot watch what he’s up to.  It’s absolutely not going to fix the issue at hand.  So what is the issue at hand then?  It’s surprisingly pretty simple, this dog is NOT getting what he needs to burn the physical and mental energy he has (In my case, in a way he is accustomed to).  Which leads me to my part in combating the problems we are having at home.

Just like all of you, I have 24 hours in a day, and it’s up to me to make sure all of my family gets what they need in that time frame.  That’s kind of what I promised my dogs when I decided to make them part of our family, so they should be allotted some of my time to keep them balanced daily as well.  Another words, even if I feel justified with sickness keeping me down, I SHOULD make sure they are getting enrichment, and exercise each day, and prioritize it into my schedule.  If I don’t, then I really can’t be upset with my dog, for being bored.  You know, the saying, “A tired dog, makes a happy owner”, in this case, it’s pretty spot on.  Tire the brain, exhaust the body, then your dog won’t have to find other ways to do that for himself!

What a thief – Now that we have that pesky responsibility issue out-of-the-way, lets back track to his food issues.  Remember when I said to push the history of your pup aside?  Now it’s time to bring that back into play!  It does help give me insight to his previous training, and needs, but don’t rely on what has worked before being the only option. Vino has always been a serious food hound, and as a puppy we really had to work hard with him on impulse control. With that being said, impulse control exercises are a great way to start, for a lot of reasons!  They are a great tool for mental exercise, and can be so unbelievably versatile, and easy to fit into your schedule. You can start with;

-Control feeding times, and make them work for meals.

-Play games (hide and go seek, find it, cups, you name it!)

-Load puzzle toys with meals (there are TONS online now to purchase!)

-Make them work for whatever they want! (Food, toys, ride, walks, anything!)

-Work on “LEAVE-IT!”  Up the anti and progress with your dog to further stimulation, and build reliability!

-The “wait” command is my fave, and you can progress with your dog, continuing to make it more of a challenge as they catch on.

-Stay is great, add distance, distraction, and duration!

-Introduce them to new things!  Physical items, sports, games, anything!

-This one is VERY important for those of you that have a counter surfer, and super hard for those of you with kids!  Now that your dog has made the reward connection to your counters, and tables, make sure you ALWAYS keep your counters clear.  If they check often, and find nothing from now on, it is no longer a lucrative exercise, because there is no longer a reward.  If you leave snacks, even small ones, they make for a pretty tasty reward, and the repetition of a nasty habit!

Let’s take a walk –  This is my second get real moment, walk your dog.  Run your dog!  Hire a dog walker…it doesn’t matter, both stimulation’s are important to tire your dog’s needs. Take into context the personalities, AND BREED, when you take in a dog, or when you are judging the exercise needs for your pal. Vino is a higher energy mastiff breed (lol, yes that exists), which is WHY I got him in the first place. We have dabbled in running together (he fails here…this is past his lazy point), Agility (he loves this!), and nose work, on top of our normal obedience. I knew this is what I was in for the day I told myself, “yeah, I can totally take in a tiny Cane Corso…”.  So it’s absolutely necessary for me to meet his physical exercise needs on top of his mental energy needs.

Training is a MUST – Dogs are not born knowing what you want from them. Sure we are connected in a way, but that doesn’t mean they can read your mind.  So take your dog to obedience classes, just give it a try!  It doesn’t mean you can’t “do it on your own”, in fact most good group classes are literally just giving YOU the skills to teach your dog on your own in the most constructive way!  Search out a good “positive” trainer (a topic for another day) that can help you earn a good relationship with your dog.  By positive I mean someone who can work with your dog outside of slapping on aversive tools to hurry anything along. As your dog progresses, move on to some fun sports that will offer you both a good bond, some fun, AND exercise (both mental, and physical). If you like to compete, and your dog is on board, there are tons of ways to find a group near you.

Combine it all!-  Let’s recap, destruction of any kind is not okay.  Crating is alright, but not a resolution. Dogs need both mental, and physical stimulation…cough, cough, I can’t say this enough…this is the millionth time…Look at your dog, and say, “what can he need from me?” Instead of “this dog doesn’t get it!” because it’s usually us.  Take in to account the personality, and breed of your dog when you decide what exercise they need.  Get some thinker toys, use your training wisely with meal times, always make them work for a reward, and don’t be afraid to try out new classes!!!!  Nothing in life is free, you can look at food and treats as currency if it makes it easier for you.  When your dog is tearing up your house, your yard, and “acting out” if you will, realize they are missing something, and give them what they need.  Your dog is a part of your life for a reason, so make the time to help them have a healthy and happy life with you!

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Destructive dogs…why can’t THEY just chill out?! Welcome to February, and being very late to joining the “Welcome 2018” train, Happy New Year?  From the…