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anagentinwriting · 4 years ago

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Lifeline - Part 3

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2100

Warnings: Mentions of fire

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

After much convincing from Carol and Nat the other day, you decided to go to the firehouse to meet this Steve face to face. It wasn’t unusual for you to stop by the firehouse, but you thought making a batch of your mom’s to die for chocolate chip cookies would give you more of a motive. You didn’t want to go, but it would shut Nat and Carol up for a while.

Walking into Station 107 Fire and Rescue’s garage, your eyes traveled to the second story loft overlooking the ambulance and the trucks. It was a cozy, warm space that had all the amenities of home. On one side of the loft was the kitchen with barn red walls, modern cabinets, and a huge fridge. On the other side was a living room filled with oversized couches, a flatscreen connected to a gaming system, and a pool table. A dining table sat in the middle separating both spaces in the large open area while exposed wooden beams hung from the ceiling. There was a hallway that led to the two dormitories towards the back of the compound. And below the loft were their lockers, gear storage, showers, and a small gym.

A guy jumping out of one of the trucks makes you stop in place. He had broad, muscular shoulders and a small waist any girl would want to wrap their arms around. You knew everyone at this firehouse, so you could only suspect this man to be Steve. He shot you a quick glance your way, noticing the ever-growing stubble on his face, before closing the truck door and coming over to you. Nat and Carol were right; he was a good looking fella. He was someone you could’ve easily fallen for, but you didn’t think like that anymore. Hell, back then, you would’ve already had your kid's names picked out without even saying two words to him.

“Hi ma’am, can I help you?” He raised an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Is Thor around?”

“Oh, ah, you didn’t hear,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this--” he ran his hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at you “--but he passed away last week on a call saving a kid.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” you gasped, shaking your head. You covered your hand over your mouth to hide the smile appearing on your face. Steve had no idea who you were, so might as well play a little game.

“I’m sorry. Afraid not, ma’am,” he sighed. “It was a shock to us all.”

“Then, what about the baby?” You placed your hand on your stomach. “Am I going to have to do this on my own?” You glanced back up at him, and his eyes went wide, not sure how to answer this.

“A baby?” You covered your hands over your face and let out a fake sob. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He...um...he didn’t die. It’s a thing he wants all of us to say to the girls who come looking for him.”

You uncover your eyes, staring at him for a brief moment until you shake your head at your brother’s orders. “He told you to tell them this? That he died?”

“Yes?” he said, coming out more like a question than a statement.

“Poor girls, well not all poor because they should’ve known better,” you sighed, letting out an annoyed breath. “I’m going to have to talk to my asshole brother for this.”

“Wait...uh...are you YN?”

“Yes. Do I know you?” You narrowed your eyes at him, eyeing him over.

“Yeah...I mean no...at least not officially, but you helped me like a week or so ago on a call.”

“Sorry, I take like two hundred calls a shift sometimes. It’s hard to remember which one is which sometimes.” You shrugged, trying to not make it come off too obvious that you knew the one he was referring to.

“Right, sorry. It was the call with the electric pool. You told me to use…”

“..the hose and pulled her across,” you finished. “Oh right, right. That must make you Fireman Rogers, then.” You held out your hand, and he shook it with his cleaner hand.

“Please, call me Steve.” You nodded. “It was a great idea you came up with. You’re a real hero.”

“Ahh...thanks. It comes with the territory,” you answered, rubbing your hands together. “We try to save as many as we can, sometimes that doesn’t mean everyone, but we got to try, right.”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, eyeing you over. “Thor went to grab groceries with Val, but you’re more than welcome to wait upstairs in the loft.” He pointed over his shoulder before resting his hands on his belt, making his biceps double in size.

“No, it’s okay. I have to get to work, but I’ll give these to you.” You hand him the container, and he opens it, licking his lips. “Made them yesterday and figured I would drop a container off here since Thor was eyeing them.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, snapping the lid back on. “They look good.”

“I would try at least one because they go pretty darn fast.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.” He nodded, holding up the container to you. “It was nice meeting you, YN.”

“You too, Steve.”

“WHOA, YN! Is that you girl,” Sam shouted from the balcony. “What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off some cookies,” you shouted back, covering your hands around your mouth.

His eyes widened, sprinting to one of the staircases on the side of the loft. He came up behind Steve and yanked the container out of Steve’s hands. Steve narrowed his eyes, watching Sam open it and take a big whiff of them.

“Man, Steve, you don’t know what you just gave up? I ain't sharing these with nobody.” He opened the container, grabbed a cookie out, and took a bite out of it, letting out a satisfied sound. Steve tried to grab one, but Sam shut the lid on his fingers. “Nope!” He shot daggers at Steve, but then he looked back at you with a gap-tooth grin on his face. “Thank you, YN, you’re the best.”

“Sam, you should at least give Steve one, since he has never had them before.”

“I guess you do have a point there.” He pointed his cookie at you, then at Steve before taking another bite, mulling over the idea. “Fine, just one…well half of one.”

Steve slowly reached in and grabbed half of a cookie and took a bite. His eyes shot to you, and he nodded his head. “Wow, these are incredible.”

“Thanks.” You shot him a small smile. “I should get going, but I will see you, gentlemen, later.”

“Safe travels, YN,” Sam waved.

“Have a good day at work,” Steve added with a side smirk.

You turned around and started for the door only to see Carol walk in. Upon seeing you, Carol’s mouth twitched into a knowing smirk as her eyes drifted from you and Steve.

“I see you came and checked out the new transfer,” Carol winked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“No,” you replied. “I dropped off some cookies.”

“Good cover.” she nodded. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, sure, he seems nice, but I am..”

“...not looking for a relationship...yatta yatta yatta,” she finished for you. “It doesn’t have to be a relationship, you know.”

“Wow. Yup, you went there.”

“Of course I did, besides the way his eyes are traveling over you tells me he would be ready to mingle with you.”

You peeked over your shoulder, noticing he wasn’t even looking at you. He was still talking to Sam, but his eyes flashed to yours for a brief moment. You turned back to Carol and narrowed your eyes at her.

“Well look at that, now he knows you're interested.” She teased, making you scoff. “Peace out.” She patted you on the shoulder, walking past you. You watch her retreat past Sam and Steve, grabbing the cookies from Sam, forcing a frown to his features.

Steve watched you walk out the door and popped the other half of the cookie into his mouth. He dusted the cookie crumbs on his pants, and Sam punched Steve on the bicep. “Ow, man. What was that for?”

“She’s cute, right?” Sam asked, shooting him a wink.

“Yeah, smart, too,” he nodded, turning around to head up to the loft with Sam. “Does she know everyone in the firehouse?”

“She sure does.” Sam nodded. “YN moved here about three months ago. I know it had something to do with her ex, but I didn’t want to pry. Not my business, but she showed up in a very fragile state.” Sam shook his head at the memory.

“She doesn’t seem that way now,” Steve added, catching the glint in Sam’s eye.

“Yeah, she’s getting better, man. Thor got her a job, and she always comes by bringing cookies when she can. She’s the best.” Sam smirked. “Why are you interested in Thor’s sister?” He nudged Steve in the arm.

“What...no...I was just curious.”

“Okay, we’ll call it that for now,” Sam grinned, showing off the gap in his teeth.

____________

Steve sat on the couch re-reading one of his favorites. He glanced up, shaking his head to see Sam and Bucky bickering about who ate all the peanut butter but put the empty container back in the cabinet.

“The strongest firefighter has returned bearing groceries,” Thor announced, walking up the steps with both his arms full of groceries. “Two trips are for the weak.”

“We get it, Blondie,” Valkyrie grumbled behind him, carrying groceries as well.

“Did you get more peanut butter?” Sam asked, giving Bucky the stink eye.

“Yes,” Val replied. “But, you can only have it if you help put groceries away.”

It was like a silent ritual, gathering around and helping put groceries away. It was also the chance to see what they would be eating for the next week or a few days, depending on how long it would last. Everyone always put in a request to what they wanted, but depending who was on groceries for the week would determine if they were nice enough to pick it up.

“Here’s Steve’s old man food,” Sam smirked, handing him his oatmeal. Steve couldn’t hide his small smirk as he grabbed it and put it in the cupboard.

“At least I’m not eating your peanut butter.”

“What the hell, Steve?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were on my side for this.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of it,” Steve held up his hands as he continued to put groceries away.

“Thor, again. Why all the Poptarts?” Sam asked, pulling three boxes from one of the bags.

“New flavors, duh!”

“You know Thor loves his Poptarts; honestly, I think they taste like cardboard,” Val remarked, pulling out her energy drinks.

“No, they don’t! You're being ridiculous. They have the same flavor as the box says. You want a hot fudge sundae without the brain freeze; have a Poptart. Want s'mores, but don’t want the sticky mess; have a Poptart. It’s crazy the amount of flavors they have.” He looked down at a box with a child-like smile on his face.

“A woman stopped by looking for you,” Steve added, shutting one of the cabinet doors.

“Did you give her the usual charade?” Thor asked, folding the reusable grocery bags.

“About how you passed away saving a child in the fire?”

“Dude, why are you still going on with that charade? It’s awful,” Bucky added, only to get ignored.

“Raging fire, did you say raging fire?” Steve nodded. “Good man,” Thor grinned, pointing his finger at him. “How’d she take it?”

“She was upset but doesn’t know what to do about the baby now.” Thor’s mouth dropped open. “She’s in the bathroom now.”

“Told you to keep that sword in your pants, pirate angel,” Val grunted, hitting him on the bicep.

“Ow...well, I’m sorry, Val,” Thor shouted with sarcasm. “What you...you just let her stay? What did she look like?”

Carol came out of the bathroom, and Thor stared at her. “What?” Everyone started laughing, forcing Thor to chuckle along and shake his head.

“Haha, you guys got me. Hilarious you guys, really.”

“Your sister did stop by though,” Steve said, opening a bag of blueberries.

“Was she okay? What did she say?” Thor rushed out. All the giddiness from his eyes changed to something more serious.

“Um, nothing serious, dropped off some cookies. There on the counter next to all the other tokens of appreciation and cards we get from people.” Steve pointed over his shoulder.

“Ooooo, yes.” He rubbed his hands together, going over to grab one, but took the lid off, lifting the empty container upside down. “Really? Come on, she’s my sister. I deserved at least one.”

“Well, she must like us better,” Sam mentioned, taking a bite of the last cookie.

______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 3. She finally met Steve officially, but will this put a stop to Nat and Carol pestering her? Only time will tell...haha! Any guesses on who is eating Sam’s peanut butter? Do you think it’s Bucky or someone else? And I thought it felt necessary to give a little nod to the first Thor, and have his choice of snack be Poptarts...haha! And finally, the whole layout of this firehouse is very similar to Station 118 firehouse on the show 9-1-1. I just love the whole loft and rustic flair to it, but you can imagine it however you want!! Any who, thanks for reading, comments always welcome!

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years ago

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3x04: Sin City

Then:

Dean killed Azazel

Now:

A nun wanders an empty church, replacing hymnals. The priest finds her and offers to walk her to her car. They both find a parishioner in the balcony who gets their attention by announcing that “God’s not with us.” He then shoots himself in the head. Ooof.

While Dean and Bobby work on the Colt, Sam informs them that he’s found sightings of demonic omens. Bobby stays behind to figure out how the Colt works while Dean and Sam take off for Ohio and the new case.

Interviewing the priest, the brothers learn that things changed in the town about two months prior --the same time they opened the devil’s gate.

The brothers then head to their motel room, where Dean runs into an old hunter friend, Richie. They banter and then they all talk shop. Whatever’s happening, doesn’t make sense. (Sidenote: Dean’s pumped that the room has Magic Fingers. Yay, bby) Dean asks about anyone in town whose whole personality has changed. Richie answers, “There’s Trotter.” He’ll be at his bar in a couple hours.

The town is anything but a boarded up factory town. It’s got coeds as far as the eye can see, and Dean’s ready to do some research. Trotter’s Bar is the epicenter of debauchery. They find the priest there.

Sam wonders what the padre is doing there. He goes where the flock is.

Dean then gets to flirt mildly with the bartender and fun fact: He likes Hurricanes. I feel like this is one part of Dean’s personality not explored in later seasons. Let the boy drink his fruity drinks, 202K!

Before anyone can react, a man walks in and shoots another man dead.

Dean tackles the assailant before he can off himself. Sam throws holy water on him, but he’s not possessed. The man admits that the victim slept with his wife. (Sam sees Dana Scully’s dad from across the bar. Man, things are REALLY WEIRD here.) (Natasha: Nooo he’s the general from Stargate!)

The cops later take the man away and tell Sam and Dean that the paper will be there shortly to take their pictures.

That’s the brothers’ cue to leave. Dean wonders where Richie is before they take off.

Richie is with the bartender. She’s taken him to her parent’s country estate. It’s secluded and has toys. Just when things are getting interesting for poor Richie, the bartender reveals she’s really a demon, and she knows he’s a hunter. WHERPS. He tries attacking, but she snaps his neck in two seconds flat. Richie!

Later at the bar, Dean forgoes eating his burger to track down the missing Richie. Sam decides to follow Trotter.

Bobby, meanwhile, is getting the Colt back into fighting shape. Ruby shows up and taunts him to test out the Colt. He does. The aim is true but the bullets aren’t right. She offers to help him with the gun.

The brothers practice seriously dangerous cell phone usage (Seriously Sammy? You didn’t put it on silent? Seriously Dean? You’re driving while not hands free? UGH.)

Dean’s back at the bar and a prostitute approaches him for a discounted good time. Dean doesn’t pay. (Or is that Sam? IDK, neither of them have to pay. Have you seen them!?) The bartender is back at work and saw the whole thing. It doesn’t deter her that Dean struck out with a prostitute and they head out for fun times elsewhere.

Sam watches Dana Scully’s dad leave his office and heads in himself to investigate. Dana Scully’s Dad Trotter appears again and there’s a slight tussle before Sam realizes that he’s also not a demon. Sam awkwardly realizes his mistake and makes his exit. Sweet dumb boy.

Dean, meanwhile, is heading down the same path as his dead buddy Richie. Dean’s no dummy though and sets up a devil’s trap. He pulls out his Latin book to exorcise her back to Hell. He doesn’t have it memorized yet and she starts up a demon wind machine. He loses the pages AND the basement door caves in. Worst Date Ever.

Later, Dean explores his new prison to the amusement of the demon trapped with him. She mocks him openly for not having an exorcism memorized.

The demon taunts Dean expertly. Dean Bean’s offended at being labeled the dumb one and I am OFFENDED on his behalf! They wait to see whose rescue is going to arrive first - Dean’s or hers.

Sam frets at the bar over his missing brother, and bribes the bartender for his whereabouts.

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon’s snarkfest marathon continues. She tells him that she didn’t even have to engage in mystical hijinks to send people in town into an evil tailspin. All she had to do was drop a few suggestions about the profit of vice to Trotter and humans took care of the rest. She describes humans as weak and corrupt.

For Constantly Weak for Dean Winchester and SYMBOLISM Science:

Sam heads inside her (other) house and finds sulfur. The game is afoot!

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon enjoy a little philosophical exchange. “Do you believe in God, Dean?” she asks him while I chew my own arm off. She sets up the apocalyptic battle from the demon perspective. Humans have wrought carnage on their world, so it’s the demons’ turn to “do it right this time.”

Sam’s back at the bar again, calling Bobby to report that he can’t find Dean. I guess the game is...not so afoot after all. The bartender offers him booze before downing a shot himself and, frustrated with the townsfolk, Sam zeroes in on the priest who’s still hanging out in the bar.

Demon Casey tells Dean that she’s faithful to Lucifer, light-bringer and the one who will raise demons up. She’s a believer. Dean oh-so-casually asks what Hell is like and the BRAVADO masking the FEAR! Jensen Ackles, your face hurts me sometimes.

For HURTSSSSS MEEE Science:

She sees right through him. “It’s a pit of despair,” she tells him frankly. “Why do you think we want to come here?”

Sam, meanwhile, is involved in a terribly awkward discussion with the priest at the bar. He’s worried about his brother and thinks he might be…..in trouble. The priest offers to bring Sam to Casey. His eyes turn black as he turns away from Sam.

The demon and Dean have settled into a friendly heart to heart at this point. She tells him that she actually likes him and thinks he did something good when he sold his soul to save Sam.

Dean tries to laugh off her real talk. He thinks it’s freeing to be damned - he can live his life any way he wants now. He’s totally not scared at all. Not at all!!!

The demon riding the priest interrogates Sam, asking him about his aspirations for the future. Yeah! Why aren’t ya in college, Sam!

Dean and Demon Casey continue to bond, and the scene takes the tone of a couple kids just chilling in the basement talking about life. Which is...actually sort of accurate.

Casey tells Dean that Yellow Eyes, a.k.a. Azazel, had a plan to bring the minions of Hell to Earth, but Dean killing him put a significant wrench in those plans. She tells him that Sam was supposed to lead the demon army. Uh. Wherps. Instead of Sam, there’s a power vacuum in Hell. Demons everywhere are fighting for the crown. “For the record,” she tells him, “I was ready to follow Sam.” And damn, if I don’t get the feeling that Dean likes her a little better because of that.

Sam and his demon priest arrive. Dean issues a warning to Sam, but Sammy doesn’t have to worry because Bobby shows up with the Colt! Bobby hands off the gun to Sam, Ruby smirking in the background. The priest breaks into the basement and smashes through the devil’s trap holding Demon Casey in. They kiss while Dean looks on in surprise.

Surprise, Dean! They’ve been lovers for centuries! Casey begs the demon priest for Dean’s life and it gives just enough delay for Sam to shoot the priest with the Colt. The priest flashes out. Dean tries to stop Sam from killing Demon Casey but Sam shoots. She flashes out as well. Remember, kids, there’s no room for love on Supernatural unless it’s DOOMED LOVE.

The next morning, Dean tries to figure out what they actually won from this hunt. There are two demons dead and one alive - and very bad - human. “Maybe these people wanna destroy themselves. Maybe it is a losing battle,” Dean opines to Bobby. He notes that Sam’s dispatch of both demons was “cold” and brings up Azazel’s words to him: When Sam came back, he might have come back different. They both agree (halfheartedly) that Sam is doing FINE and is definitely not at all concerning.

Sam and Ruby meet up in a hotel room. Sam’s suffering regrets and calls Ruby a “cold bitch.” She takes issue with this assessment, particularly since she’s saved his life a few times. I mean, knowing about Ruby aside, I fully agree here. Fun fact! The word “bitch” was used four times in this episode! Ruby continues to dangle the hope that she might be able to help save Dean from his deal. Sam levels the Colt at her.

Sam threatens to kill her, but it’s just empty words. Ruby warns him that the fight ahead won’t be easy, but she’ll be there by his side. A little “fallen angel” on his shoulder. (Shakes my head at this goddamn show.)

Where Everybody Knows Your Quotes:

Toys trump oils

A demon with a heart. Wow

You don't get it. All you got to do is nudge humans in the right direction

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #ruby #spn 3x04 #sin city #supernatural season 2

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author-morgan · 5 years ago

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Kryptic ↟ Deimos

twenty-seven - a mother’s hope

masterlist

But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.

Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction.

They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

EACH OF THE sentries posted outside the leader’s home cast wary glances to one another after Lesya enters. Ikaros perches on the corner of the roof above the doorway, staring at her with dark, mistrustful eyes. Even with all she has helped Kassandra achieve, the eagle still does not trust her. It remains a mutual feeling as ofttimes Lesya feels she is being watched, and the passing shadow always takes the shape of an eagle. With a loud piping call, Ikaros hops from the roof, spreading his wings into the night.

Lips pursed, Lesya passes through the villa’s entrance, stopping beneath a stoa connecting the andron and kitchen —the Eagle Bearer nor her mother are in the atrium. Ikaros flies above the villa, circling and squawking. The commotion brings Kassandra down a flight of stairs, both her sword and spear drawn. “Lesya!” she cries —sheathing her kopis but not the Leonidas spear— shocked to find the former champion standing before after she left her in Athens. Kass’ initial relief fades, replaced by suspicion surrounding her sudden and opportune arrival. “What happened to you?” She asks, dark eyes narrowing. “How did you get here?”

“Tundareos,” Lesya answers, pushing aside the former question —it will take more time to explain what happened after Deimos left Perikles’ corpse at the feet of Athena.

“Lamb?” A warm voice calls —reminding Lesya of her mother. The voice belongs to a woman with silver-brown hair and a kindly face that is neither young nor old —her resemblance to Kassandra and even her wayward son is unmistakable. Myrrine. Her gaze falls on the woman standing next to her daughter, a head shorter but just as strong with striking copper hair. “You must be Lesya,” she notes, smiling despite knowing who she is and the atrocities she has committed. Lesya nods, dipping her head down in greeting.

Myrrine looks between Kassandra and Lesya. Her soft smile does not diminish. “Will you walk with me?” She asks, meeting the unsettling laurel gaze of the former champion —one of the few people in Hellas who could say they knew her son. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lesya nods, stepping forward, but the Eagle Bearer watches her leave apprehensively and gives Ikaros a knowing look. Shadows are harder to see at night.

The trodden path Myrrine leads Lesya down is the same one she’d taken to the villa, but instead of turning toward the docks —they move toward where a great statue of a lion is under construction from flawless white marble. A tribute to Leonidas and defiance against the Delian League, who claim control over the island. She stops beneath the half-shaped mane and sits on a massive paw, clasping her hands together in her lap.

“Kassandra tells me you know my son,” she starts —love and guilt lacing the statement. In the moonrise, Lesya watches solemnness overtake Myrrine when she nods, knowing there is much that should have been different. The artifact in the Cult’s Sanctuary revealed what happened during a stormy night on the slopes of Taygetos. “She also tells me he’s beyond saving,” Myrrine adds, profound sadness slipping into her voice.

“That’s not true,” Lesya snaps, anger churning in her stomach. If Deimos were beyond saving, he would not have risked everything to protect her from the kiss of the Cult’s blades when they came. He would not have tended her wounds or sought her out in Korinthia. She will not believe it, for if Deimos is beyond saving, then all her efforts to stop the Cult are in vain —but they are not.

The unspoken promises on his lips still sting her cheek —one day. Lesya is certain of all the people in Hellas she is the only one who knows what kind of man Deimos is and the man he can be. “Yes,” she starts, softer than before and with tears stinging her laurel eyes at the flood of memories, “he’s done terrible things, but I’ve done terrible things, too.” No one would say otherwise. The blood Deimos and Enyo spilled could turn the Aegean red —they both deserve to rot in Tartarus for their crimes.

“You love him,” Myrrine notes —having seen the fire rise in Lesya’s eyes. She knew the look of a woman in love too well.

“I do,” Lesya replies, lips kinking into a smile. “Forgive me,” she begins, gaze downcast, “but Kassandra does not know him.” Three chance meetings could not replace two decades of nigh always being with one another —seldom parted for more than a moon. Myrrine follows Lesya as she begins to pace, unsure what else to tell a mother of her son.

“Deimos gave me freedom at a great cost to himself,” she admits. The newest scars on his sides were proof enough. “I can’t give up on him.” Lesya turns to Myrrine, hands clenching into fists at her sides and expression turning to a cold grimace. “I will not stop until every Cultist and Cult puppet knows a fraction of the pain we have endured at their hands.” They would all fall eventually, either to her blade or Kassandra’s.

THE SILVER LIGHT of a full moon reflects off the dark waters. Across the narrow channel lies Paros, the golden glow of braziers pocking the harbor and dwindling polis. Lesya stares at the island with contempt —recalling the last time she had stepped foot on the white sands and the reason behind the visit. Silanos’ reign was founded on a path of blood and bone paved by the Cult’s champions.

“We strike Paros tomorrow,” Kassandra announces, leaning against the balcony. Myrrine and Timo reasoned the sooner they could rid themselves of Silanos, the better. The Athenian polemarch was a nuisance —threatening the security and livelihood of the denizens of Naxos. “What do you know about their leader?” The Eagle Bearer asks, after hearing her mother’s suspicions about his ties to the Cult of Kosmos.

Lesya shrugs, not taking her gaze away from the neighboring island. “He’s a coward mostly,” she tells Kassandra. Silanos was not a man of repute even amongst the Cultists, relying on deception to climb through the ranks of Kosmos and the Peloponnesian League. “Deimos and I disposed of the previous Parian leader and cemented the way for his rise to power,” Lesya explains.

From the corner of her laurel eyes, she watches the Eagle Bearer’s face pinch —she often wore such an expression when hearing of Lesya’s exploits for the Cult. “They did not say why we had to do it, but now I know.” Installing Silanos as the Parian leader meant they could keep a chary watch on Myrrine of Sparta.

GUARDIANS WATCH THE docks of Piraeus when a lone merchant vessel arrives in the night, and the Cult’s Champion disembarks, striding forth in only a dark chiton and the Damoklean sword at his waist. Kleon sent a small army through the plague ravished city in search of Deimos in the days following Perikles’ death after discovering his bloody armor at Hermippos’ villa. The coward playwright claimed to know nothing when questioned. Three of the Cult guardians step into Deimos’ path, pointing toward the Acropolis in the distance, shrouded by low-hanging clouds and the night.

He pauses on the steps below the propylaea. The blood painting the white marble was scrubbed away, yet he still could see Lesya’s blood on his hands. Flexing his scarred hand, Deimos continues through the gateway and toward the Arrephorion, where Kleon now resides after desecrating the House of Athena’s maids. Kleon looks up from the piece of papyrus before him when Deimos enters, setting down a reed pen next to a small pot of wet soot. “Where did you go, boy?” He asks, dry lips curling.

Deimos tilts his head to the side, counting and sizing up the Athenian psiloi posted around Kleon’s quarters on the Acropolis. The small force numbers ten, not counting the ones posted at the temple and treasury. He would not even need the sword on his hip to dispatch them. “Does it matter?” Deimos bites back in the same patronizing tone.

Kleon grits his teeth at the champion’s defiance and rises from his desk. Hermippos may not have confessed the truth, but with enough persuasion, his servants had. Deimos fled the city aboard a pirate trireme with her. The old hag, Chrysis, had been right to call for Enyo’s execution —if she lived the Cult would never be able to control Deimos again. “You don’t see it,” the new Athenian leader begins, hands clasped behind his back, “but she makes you weak.” Weakness could not be allowed to grow within the ranks of Kosmos. “A demigod groveling for the approval of a woman,” Kleon sneers.

Deimos cannot help but laugh, his dark gaze a silent threat. In Enyo’s absence, many seemed to have forgotten what she had done for the Cult and what she was still capable of doing. Midas’ mangled corpse in Argolis should have served as a bitter reminder of the weapon they helped create. “You once trembled in fear and called her a demigoddess,” he reminds Kleon before turning and taking his leave of the Athenian general’s presence.

@wallsarecrumbling @novastale @fjor-ok-skadi @fucking-dip-shit @elizabethroestone @maximalblaze @balmacedapascal @khaoskrossed

#Alexios #Deimos #Alexios x OC #Deimos x OC #Alexios Imagine #Deimos Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Deimos Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Kryptic #my writing

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wickedandthedamned · 5 years ago

Text

Ch.1 Even saints lie

"You bitch"

The man in the bowling hat stared into the monk's frightened eyes as his grasp became even tighter around her throat. His voice remained even and his expression only showed mild annoyance.

"Yoshikage…. Please.. You are hurting me" She managed to croak out. It would not be long until she lost consciousness and she knew it.

"So, I see you ARE trying to achieve sainthood. Thought you would do God's work and 'help' a poor soul pass on to the next plane huh?"

"I was… just trying to…. Help…." There was no use in struggling. The man had lifted her by her throat. Her eyes pleaded as they became glassy.

"Help? Look at me! As you can see, the cleansers did quite a little number on my arm.” He leaned in, and whispered into her ear.

“ There was one thing that kept me sane during my time trying to determine whether you knew about the eggs and that was the thought that maybe, just maybe your arm would fit " He punctuated his sentence by holding up what was left of his severed limb.”

"Please.. You.. Need.. To.. Move.. On……" The world started fading.

Kira stared at her. He could see the color draining from her face as her usually pink lips turned a pale shade of blue. He took a deep breath and let go of the monk's throat allowing her to hit the ground with a loud thud. She loudly gasped for air and proceeded to cough, her throat marked with a large handprint. He crouched down to her eye level and looked at her seemingly unbothered by the sight of her struggling to get life back into her lungs.

"Not your call, Momoko. I think it is for the best if we stop seeing each other. I have enough money to find an apartment now anyway."

He slowly walked away not bothering to look back.

It was a nice day, he thought. It was neither too hot or too cold and the sky was bluer than ever. He stopped by his favorite shop and admired the flowers for three minutes like he did every day.. They had tulips, his favorites. Maybe now that he was going to have his own place he would finally be able to paint them in peace. Yes, that sounded nice. He would wake up at 9 am, do a couple of stretches, and make breakfast while listening to the radio. Later, he would listen to an entire Wagner symphony while painting in his balcony. At night, he would watch the people go by while drinking a cup of tea, hell he may even read that silly book about noseless elephants. Finally, peace and tranquility. That was if things did not go like last time and a 'concerned' tenant started claiming there was suspicious activity going on which sooner or later would lead to him being evicted by a group of 'mediums' with nothing better to do than harass the dead.

On his path, he saw a curled up soul whimpering and attempting to avoid the feet of the living who moved around rapidly, anxious to get home from work. The pitiful sight gave Yoshikage a wonderful idea. He bent slightly forward and stuck his hand out politely.

"Hello, I am Yoshikage Kira. I too am dead.” He giggled.

“Please pardon my foolishness, but I cannot believe I had not thought about this sooner is all" He coyly held a hand to his face as he gave the most innocent smile to the poor spirit who looked as though ready to start sobbing.

"As you can see, my arm appears to be missing. “ He punctuated his sentence by holding up his stump which was poorly draped with ripped cloth from his green suit.

“I think you can help my predicament.” With his remaining arm he kicked down the soul who began wailing and frantically looking at the living for any kind of help.

“Now, now, please do not scream or struggle. You are going to make my head hurt. It isn't as though you are getting much use out of yours sitting here in this corner all day anyway so I don’t understand why you’re being such a pain."

Kira’s foot pressed down on the other ghost’s head as he hacked away at the poor things arm with his knife.

"There is a house with a couple of dogs down the street and I'm afraid I'm going to have to throw you over the fence if you don't stop causing such a scene."

The way the man cutting his arm spoke scared him far more than the living ever had. Despite his horrible actions, it seemed like this was nothing to this man -no- this monster

"There, see? That wasn't so bad, was it? All done"

Kira dropped the whimpering soul and walked off fitting the new arm into his stub. Surprisingly, the arm attached itself in a matter of seconds and he was able to use it relatively well.

He had spent the last couple of weeks sleeping in the house of a family who had been out on vacation. Unfortunately for him, they were coming back in a day or two so he would have to find a way to acquire his own space sooner than he had hoped. He sighed and glared at the setting sun.

"It's always a hassle figuring out where I will rest"

…...

"Yoshikage!"

The familiar voice called from down the street followed by the clanking of wood on concrete. Oh great, what did she want? Just as predicted, the caller was none other than the monk he had been running errands for. He turned around both amused and exasperated, still hurt about her betrayal.

"Momoko? I thought I made myself clear yesterday."

"Wait! I thought about it and you were right. It wasn't my place to send you to that house. By now you should know I am not a sentimental woman but.. Here.” She dug through her robes and produced a small object.

“Think of this as an apology"

She handed him a small piece of yellow paper with a number scribbled on top and the word "Poveglia" at the bottom. Kira looked down at it then back at her face. It was as expressionless as always but there was a small hint of something Kira could not quite read in her eyes.

“I don't work for you anymore" He announced while continuing to walk forward. The monk sped up and walked in front of him still holding the paper.

"Then think of it as a present from a friend" She pushed the paper closer towards Kira's closed fist.

'Friend'? He thought to himself. He had been working with her for the past three years but he had never thought of her as more than a boss really especially considering her stoic attitude towards him. Yet again she was, in fact, a monk, so that could be dismissed as part of her creed. Oh well.

"Why should I trust you?" He tilted his head and raised his brow. Momoko had to admit he did have a point. She had sent him in a suicide mission fairly recently, after all.

"You will not get what you seek in Morioh. There is simply too much going on but I know someone-"

"Let me guess another one of your 'friends'" Kira rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"I know someone that can help you get the quiet life you want." Momoko glared, she hated being interrupted.

"Fine, but for the record if you are lying to me I will kill you this time. Do I make myself clear?" The tone of his voice let on that this was less of a threat and more of a matter-of-fact statement.

"Fair enough"

"Let me guess I'm going to have to offer my services to your 'friend'"

"A small price to pay for a lifetime of tranquility, is it not?. My acquaintance has a very wealthy client who is looking for something-"

"Do I look like a bloodhound to you?"

"Stop interrupting"

Kira raised his hands defensively and listened on. He knew Momoko Okamoto well enough to know when to take her seriously and despite yesterday's actions, he acknowledged she was someone who's bad side he did not want to be on.

"As I was saying, he has a very wealthy client who is looking for something he has lost. Said item is very heavily guarded by a bunch of inconveniences that need to be dispatched, that's where you come in. They will explain more once you meet with them. In this paper you will find the coordinates to the meetup spot as well as the code word you must say in order to prove you are who you say you are"

"You still haven't told me my reward."

"My friend knows of a place solely populated with people in your state.No living beings to beings to be seen"

"Go on"

"Your reward is enough money to buy a house or apartment in the location of the aforementioned place"

"What's the catch?"

"The meeting place is in Europe"

"Hm"

"I will pay for your travel expenses. You don't even have to take the job just go to the meeting"

"I'll think about it" He opened his palm and allowed the paper to fall on it. The monk gave him a nod and went back to where she came from.

...

In the afternoon of the very same day, Yoshikage Kira found himself in the Morioh Library. It was a Saturday night, there were hardly any patrons which made the place rather pleasant. There he was able to sit down and perhaps figure out additional information on the mission. He could not find anything on the word "Poveglia" but he did, locate the coordinates in the paper. It was a small café on the outsides of Sicily. Kira placed both hands under his chin.

"Italy, huh?"

#kiravolo #kiraboss #yoshikage kira #diavolo #diavolo x kira

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dani-luminae · 5 years ago

Note

how about the “we’ve been engaged to be married since we were three but this is the first time we’ve met and your portraits really don’t do you justice” au for Bia? (Assuming somehow that Beast would ever agree to betroth Ben to the princess of an entire other planet, which seems unlikely)

LMAO, yes, it’s a very unlikely event, and I can’t really think of any way it would happen, so for convenience’s sake we’re going to gloss over the reasons for Ben and Lia’s betrothal in this fic. But I do love this prompt! It’s perfect!

@lady-of-the-spirit another Bia AU, if you’re interested!

Also, congrats, readers of this fic, you get the first look at the portrayal of Solasar in Lia’s stories!

The Prince of Auradon and the Princess of Solasar

The circumstances around Prince Benjamin of Auradon’s betrothal to Princess Dahlia of Solasar were virtually unknown. Ben himself often wondered how his father, King Beast, a headstrong and stubborn ruler, had ever agreed to affiance his beloved son and only heir to the princess of a planet so far away it was merely a star in the sky.

Ben spent many evenings sitting on the balcony of his castle and looking up at that one little bright speck in the sky. In Auradon, they called it Leuer. Ben, however, couldn’t help but call it “Solasar,” every single time.

On Solasar, they came of age to marry at seventeen, and so the day after Princess Dahlia turned seventeen was the day that Ben was to travel to Solasar and meet her for the first time.

The evening before Ben was supposed to depart, he sat on the floor of the royal portrait gallery, looking up at the portrait on the wall. This was his only clue as to what his fiancée looked like. The portrait depicted a beautiful young woman with dark hair pulled behind her, and a jeweled hairpiece. She wore a floor-length gown of shimmering pale pink, and she was turned away demurely, either looking at the ground or with her eyes closed. From previous royal portraits, Ben knew that she had blue eyes.

But that was all he knew. She was pretty, and she had blue eyes. Her name was Dahlia. And Ben knew nothing else. But tomorrow, he was expected to travel to Solasar and, soon, marry this girl.

Which confused Ben even further. Ben was the only heir to the throne of Auradon. And Princess Dahlia was, to his understanding, the only heir to the throne of Solasar. What would their planets even have to gain from their rulers marrying? This whole thing sounded like a mess waiting to happen.

The next day, Ben wore his best suit – after all, first impressions were everything, especially to the girl he was supposed to be marrying. He would finally meet her before the day was up. He was excited, but at the same time, he was dreading it.

A ship that sailed through the sky and space itself came to retrieve Ben. Once, when he was younger, this sight had fascinated him, but he was used to it now. Golden lettering read RLS Baelstrom, and the captain, identifiable by his gold-edged tricorn hat and blue coat, was suspended on the rigging at starboard stern, making for an impressive entrance as the ship swooped low over Auradon. The ship was too vast to land, so they dispatched a flying dinghy which, manned by the captain and his Second Mate, came down to the planet’s surface.

Ben looked at the captain as the dinghy landed. Beneath the captain’s hat, he had long-ish brown hair that framed his face, and very unique blue eyes. The captain inclined his head to Ben. “Prince Benjamin of Auradon?”

“Yes,” mumbled Ben.

“I’m Captain James Pleiades Hawkins, of the RLS Baelstrom,” said the captain. “I’m here to escort you to Solasar.”

I figured, Ben wanted to say, but he didn’t want to be rude. He turned and hugged each of his parents again, a last goodbye for the time being. Ben would be back, soon enough, but everything would be different then. He climbed into the dinghy, and was directed to a seat next to the Second Mate. (At first, Ben though the Second Mate was human; then he saw the eight eyes, like an arachnid. Ben tried to pretend like he wasn’t shocked.)

Captain Hawkins piloted the dinghy back to the RLS Baelstrom, and in a matter of minutes, the ship was once again ascending through the clouds and returning to space. Ben sat on deck and marveled at the stars and galaxies around them. And then he realized something. “Your name, Captain Hawkins, it sounds familiar.”

Captain Hawkins looked up from a sextant and a map. “Well… it’s a fairly common name. But I suppose to you, you may have heard of Princess Dahlia referred to as ‘Dahlia Hawkins’.”

The name faintly rung a bell in Ben’s memory. “I have.”

“That’s because Dahlia is my daughter,” Captain Hawkins casually announced, looking down at the map again.

Ben was surprised. “Princess Dahlia of Solasar is your daughter?”

Captain Hawkins nodded. “Yes. My wife, Admiral Ayesha Hawkins, was the Crown Princess of Solasar before she renounced her title for a life of exploring the galaxies. But that left it certain that our daughter Dahlia – or ‘Lia’ as we like to call her – would have to take the throne.”

“Oh.” Ben didn’t know how to react to that, or how he was supposed to react to the fact that a well-respected Captain in the Interstellar Armada was soon to be his father-in-law.

He was quiet for the rest of the ride until, about an hour later, Captain Hawkins announced that they were arriving to Solasar. Ben stood at the edge of the deck and leaned over the railing to see the planet. Despite his less-than-thrilling reason for coming on this trip, he still wanted to see the planet. He saw a planet with a shimmering golden-tan surface and two shining rings that circled the planet. “Wow.”

The RLS Baelstrom was to remain in the upper atmosphere while a dinghy with Captain Hawkins, Ben, and the Second Mate were to go to the surface. For the second time, Ben found himself boarding a dinghy, and this time, the Second Mate’s eight eyes didn’t shock him.

The dinghy traveled down to the planet’s surface. They passed over dusty plains teeming with strange wildlife, just enough like Auradon’s for Ben to glance over it, but different enough to make him do a double-take. The city was surrounded by high walls patrolled by guards, and Ben heard the rhythmic beating of drums as they passed the walls and approached the palace, a tall, angular, splendid structure.

They were welcomed into the palace. They waited in the main hall for the ruler, Queen Azemirete, and her granddaughter, Princess Dahlia, to arrive. Ben spotted his own royal portrait on the wall, and he had to restrain a laugh. He looked so strikingly plain, with one hand in his pocket and looking at the painter. It wasn’t even a very good portrait.

The doors opened, and Queen Azemirete and Princess Dahlia entered the hall. Ben turned to them, and he froze.

Queen Azemirete was an imposing figure, tall and straight-backed, with her head held high and braids of vivid silver hair pulled up under her feathered crown, garbed in flowing purple silk. But Ben hardly saw her. His eyes were instantly upon Princess Dahlia, his betrothed.

Dahlia had dark skin and braided black hair beneath a trailing pink veil embroidered with golden beads that matched her shining gown. Her eyes were jewel-blue, and had faint golden streaks in them that no royal portrait had ever managed to capture. The sight of her took Ben’s breath away.

Dahlia stared back at him. She’d spent a lifetime looking at his royal portrait, and it didn’t do him justice either. His hazel eyes sparkled in a way that no paint could ever show, and his smile had a kind and compassionate soul behind it that couldn’t be translated into any mere image.

“Prince Benjamin of Ixosl,” said Queen Azemirete in an authoritative voice that matched her stature. “I welcome you to Solasar. May I present, my granddaughter, Princess Dahlia Nyashari Hawkins, your betrothed.”

Princess Dahlia stepped forward, still with her eyes glued to Ben’s. “Prince Benjamin,” she said in a voice barely above a whispered, and she curtsied deeply to him.

Ben bowed deeply to her as well. “Princess Dahlia.” He took her hand and kissed it, still looking up at her. “Please, just call me Ben.”

The Princess of Solasar answered with a faint smile. “Only if you just call me Lia.”

“Dahlia,” the Queen of Solasar scolded, seeming disapproving of the requested informality. Ben saw a faint grimace cross Lia’s face at this reprimanding, but the princess hid it well.

“We shall be married tomorrow,” Lia said to Ben. Her eyes still hadn’t left his face. “But for now, we have the afternoon and dinner. Might we take a walk around the courtyards? It would give us a chance to get to know one another better, I think.”

“That sounds… enchanting,” Ben replied. Enchanting, just like her.

Lia smiled back at her, and the way her eyes gleamed when she smiled made Ben’s heart skip a beat.

Maybe this arranged marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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spoonerisrns · 1 year ago

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bearing in mind that everything about pro hockey is novel to me, I think the shopping cart zamboni at the Xcel Center is the cutest goddamn thing.

#just what a clever idea. what a cute ad. adorbs.#pwhl lb #dispatches from my balcony for announcements

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fernwehbookworm · 6 years ago

Text

Woke The F*ck Up- Chapter 1

August 24th, 2009

Kara walked into the high school for the first time. Alex made her go in alone, no way was she going to be associated with a freshman especially not during her Senior year. She looked at the paper in her hand, her class schedule with her locker and combination on it. The hallways were so much bigger than that of the middle school. In this main hall, you could see the balcony of the second floor clinging to the side as the roof soared high above with skylights. Kara gulped and took a deep breath.

“You can do this. It's just another school. A bigger school but school none the less, you like school.” Kara mumbles to herself. She is relieved when she turns a corner and is a normal hallway lined with lockers.

“See you can do this.”

Kara hears a commotion around the next corner. When she turns, right outside her first class, two large guys are shoving a much smaller one back and forth. Another looks to be opening a locker from the paper in his hand.

“Come on Schott. Agree to do our homework this year and this would be so much easier. We won't even tell people here about your dad.” One sneers.

“Guys I can't. I almost failed last year because if you.” The little one cries out.

“Hey!” Kara yells. That gets the bullies attention.

“Got it! Alright, let's see if he fits.” Says the third as he opens the locker, turning to notice the slightly lanky girl now starring them down.

“Get lost. This has got nothing to do with you.”

“I think it does.” Kara steps closer.

That's when one of the guys makes the mistake of grabbing her shoulder. Jeremiah had been taking her to various fighting classes since she was adopted. The therapist had recommended it to help her cope with the loss of her parents and Kara loved it. Loved the control it gave her over her own body when everything else felt like chaos. Her test for her black belt in Karate was next month even.

On instinct, Kara grabbed the wrist and twisted, turning the much larger boy around and forcing him to the ground. He cries out makes a pained expression. The other boys are shocked and then mad.

“Well, now you made me mad.” Said the kid who opened the locker.

Kara twists the arm in her grasp harder, just right before it dislocates she releases and shoves him forward with a foot. He rolls on the ground, clutching at his shoulder. Kara looks up just in time to see the locker kid take a swing, she ducks and shoves the heel of her hand into his exposed nose. Instantly, blood gushes out. The last kid runs at seeing how quickly his friends were dispatched. Kara finally turns to the bullied boy, plastered against the lockers in fear.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Y-y-yes. I’m-I’m better than those guys. Who are you?” He asks over the moans of the two remaining bullies.

“Kara Danvers.” She sticks out her hand. He takes it tentatively.

“Winslow Schott. But everyone just calls me Winn.”

“It's nice to meet you.”

“What is going on here!” Roars a tall teacher as he rounds the corner.

He towers over the four students. Kara and Winn are both too shocked to respond.

“All of you, to the principal's office.” The man lifts the boys by their shirts and heards them back the direction Kara came from.

The two boys only get two days of suspension and a week of after school detention because they didn't actually hit anyone, though the cameras caught then shoving Winn around. Kara got a week suspension starting tomorrow. The principal was letting her stay for her first day.

“Thank you for saving me. Those guys have been bullying me for two years. I thought when we got here it would be better.”

“What are friends for?”

“Are we friends then?” Kara laughs.

“Well, I don't get suspended for just anyone. We better be friends. Plus if I'm around those guys probably won't bother you.” Winn grins.

“I just have to make it through a week.”

“I'll have my sister keep an eye on you. She's a senior. She probably won't acknowledge your existence unless you're in trouble though.”

“Thanks, Kara. I'm glad we are friends.”

The new friends walk down the hall for their first day of high school and it feels just a little bit smaller.

***

November 6th, 2013

“Breaking News: Lionel Luthor arrested for using his company Luthor Corp to fund an anti-government campaign and also has financial ties to a massive assassination plot. Evidence of Luthor Corp funds traced to the massive explosion in Washington D.C. that killed over 300 people and led to the hospitalization of 200 more…”

Lena turns off the television in the now basically trashed hotel suite. She didn't care, the label paid for it. Lex had tried to call her. Get her to come home. Trying to say that Dad didn't do it, then saying he was just trying to save the world or some other bull shit. The only thing her already drunk mind could understand was that her family was now fucked beyond repair. Someone passed her a blunt and she took it, inhaling deeply to forget. Forget the fake family of her childhood. That she was the bastard daughter of a madman. That her adoptive mother was cruel. Her brother had loved her in his own way, but he had been much older and didn't understand. She found an out and took it.

Once Lena passes the smoking comfort on to someone else she takes a drink from the Vodka bottle on the table and buries her nose in the neck of the woman next to her. The woman would help her forget too, if only for a few hours. Lena pulls her into the bedroom of the suite and closes the door, ignoring the twenty other nameless people left on the other side.

***

June 20th, 2014

Kara paces the locker room. It's the final match. To win it all. Her nerves felt frayed and she was too anxious to sit and wait. Winn appears with tape to wrap her hands.

“Why?” She asks, trying to distract herself.

“To help keep you from breaking every bone in your hand on her jaw.” Comes Winn's smart-assed comment with a little laugh.

“No, Winn. Why did you follow me? You could have gone to MIT or something but you followed me. Became my assistant trainer. I mean I know you developed all those simulators and different equipment to help me train but you could have done so much with a brain like yours.”

“You might as well ask yourself why you saved me in the hallway then. It's what friends do. Especially best friends. I'm behind you all the way Kara. Win or lose. If you lose we will keep training and try again. If you win, well we will keep training anyway. But I'm behind you one hundred percent. So is your family.” An announcement calling Kara to the ring.

“Are you ready?”

Kara nods. She is. Somehow Winn's little speech was enough. He always had her back and Kara was so glad for that.

***

August 4th, 2017

“Ahh... Hi.”

Lena looks up at the blonde woman now standing over her, coffee cup in hand. Lena closes her notebook and raises an eyebrow to the woman who continues to stand awkwardly next to her table.

“Umm... all the tables are taken up and umm… well… the inside is full too. So do you mind if I sit with you? I mean I guess I could just go home but I was kind of looking forward to reading at my favorite Cafe on a beautiful day like today. But I can just go. I should go. Never mind.” Lena laughs and pushes her glasses back up her nose where they started to slip. She glances around the little patio, separated from the sidewalk by a little black gate. Through the large windows, Lena can see the long line of people and crowded tables because of the peak Saturday morning hours.

“You can sit, as long as you stop talking.”

The woman blushes but sits anyway. Lena opens her notebook and continues writing. The blonde opens her own book and leans back in the chair. Lena tries glancing at this very forward stranger, very aware of how easy it would be for someone to recognize her. The blonde is wearing a pastel peach cardigan over a simple white shirt. Behind the glasses are eyes as blue as the sky on this very morning. A crinkle appears between her eyes as she becomes engrossed in the well-read book. Wizard's First Rule the cover reads. After a few minutes, the other woman pulls out headphones and begins to listen to music. It only takes four seconds for Lena to recognize the song that drifts over to her. She glances back up and taps her pen in front of the blonde. She pulls out one earbud and cocks her head to the side, very much like a puppy.

“Lena Luthor?”

“Yeah. My sister got us tickets to the concert tonight.” The blonde blushes slightly.

“You don’t look like a typical fan.”

“Oh, and what do I look like then?” the blonde challenges.

“Like a ray of sunshine gave birth to a golden retriever puppy.” The women stammers, trying to think of a response.

“Well, I am not a fan. My sister is though and she has wanted to go to a concert for a while. I am just listening so I don’t completely make a fool of myself.” That peaks Lena’s interest.

“And what do you think?” Somehow she feels drawn to knowing what this woman’s opinion is.

“Well, I think she’s talented. Definitely has a varying sound to each song so that they don’t all sound the same.”

“But?” Lena hears it in the sound of her voice.

“But, it's kind of depressing. I mean, when I really start listening to the lyrics I just really want to give her a hug and tell her… well, I don’t know really but she sounds like she needs someone who will be there for her.”

That catches Lena very off guard. This woman in front of her wants to comfort a complete stranger because of a few songs. Lena makes the mistake of looking into her eyes and letting the raw emotion in those blue pools wash over her. Something was tugging at her, something she hadn’t felt in years. That scares Lena. She quickly closes her notebook and clears her throat.

“Well, I am sure she just uses her music to work through things. I am sure she has people…” Lena trails off, feeling the hollowness of her own words. The women across from her nods.

“Yeah of course.”

“What do you listen to then? Probably some top one hundred pop star, maybe a boy band?” Lena says, needing to change the touchy subject.

“Well depends on the playlist. Definitely much happier music and NSYNC will always be my go to.” The blonde says, unashamed.

“Oh no. Now you have to leave my table. This is a Backstreet Boys table.”

That starts a whole argument on which nineties boy band was better. The debate expanded into a top ten. Lena actually lost track of time and couldn’t believe that this rather beautiful woman just sat in front of her and actually made her forget her numbness for a while. Then Lena’s phone starts ringing, shaking them out of the little bubble that had formed around their table in the heart of National City. Lena holds up a finger with an apologetic look.

“Hey, Jess… No, I just lost track of time...No, I can get there...Yes, see you in about half an hour… Bye Jess.”

“You have to go?” The woman looks disappointed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” The woman sips at her forgotten coffee, making a face at the surely cold liquid.

“Thank you,” Lena says, knowing this woman wouldn’t know how good this conversation was for her.

“For what?”

“I am not sure. Have fun at your concert tonight.” Lena starts to turn to go.

“Wait!” Lena turns back to the woman suddenly standing. Lena raises an eyebrow.

“Can I umm… see you again?” Lena is caught off guard again by this woman who continues to surprise her.

“I-I won’t be here long. I… travel a lot.” The blonde looks disappointed again.

“Well can I have your name at least?” She tries again. Lena pauses to think then stretches out her hand.

“Elena Colby.” the woman takes it.

“Well, Elena. I’m Kara Danvers. Just so you know, if I see you again, I will take it as fate or destiny or something and I will ask for your number again.” That makes Lena smile.

“Consider me warned.” Lena hails a taxi to take her away before she decides to change her mind.

***

“Ugh Alex, you should have seen her. Even in that sweatshirt and her hair up in a messy bun, she was beautiful. She kept fiddling with her glasses and I swear that laugh should be illegal. And those eyes...” Kara flops on the couch in her sister’s apartment. Alex was changing from her pantsuit in the other room, having had to go to the Bureau to fill out some paperwork this morning. Alex laughs and walks out of her room to sit next to her swooning sister. She is wearing her official black Lena Luthor tour t-shirt. Half of the women’s pale face stares out with a piercing green eye next to bold lettering of her own name.

“Her eyes?” Alex pokes at Kara’s shoulder.

“They were this captivating brown. But…”

“But what?”

“There was something off. I don’t know. But they were sad too. Like I just wanted to hug her.”

“Kara, you want to hug everyone you meet.” Alex teases.

“True, but I wanted to.”

“Yes, you wanted to hug the pretty girl.”

“How’s Detective Sawyer?” Kara flips it back around on Alex.

“Annoying,” Alex grumbles.

“Just because you don’t share cases well. She practically solved the murder that led to the dogfighting ring bust herself.” Kara points out. Alex grumbles a protest.

“And you like her.” Kara continues to push.

“She has a girlfriend.” That takes the fun out of the tease.

“You asked her out?”

“Yup. And she shot me down in one of the most embarrassing ways. So I need tonight.” Kara grins and throws her arms around her sister.

“I love our Sister Nights. Even if the music is slightly depressing.”

“But the expensively cheap beer will be great.” Kara laughs and turns on the TV to kill the few hours before they were going to head to dinner.

***

Lena carefully removes the colored contacts from her eyes and places them in the case that she keeps in her dressing room table. She puts in her real contacts and begins to carefully put together Lena Luthor, the cold, badass, rising star. The person adopted and raised by one of the richest madmen in the world. Who disappointed her adoptive mother by pursuing music instead of using her MIT degree. Music was one of the few things that made her feel anything. Now performing was mostly going through the motions, like everything else.

A knock at the door. Jessica is calling for her to report for sound check and a quick run through of the set. Gone is the simple disguise that Lena used to blend into public spaces. In its place is a woman who is all sharp lines and piercing eyes. Lena takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders back, and purposefully strides out of her dressing room.

Jess is waiting with the set list and banana, knowing full well Lena hasn’t eaten, only ingested copious amounts of coffee. She takes it gratefully and eats half before ditching it in a trash can just off stage. Men and women still dash about all around, preparing for the night. Her band and back up singers mingle on stage. Lena walks up to the mic and waits for her cue to begin.

***

“Alex! You really bought front row tickets?”Kara practically shouts over the noise from all around the Colosseum and the opening act. They both struggle to keep their beers from being jostled and spilled as they make their way between people's legs and the barricade.

“I got a raise. Plus, come on. It's Lena Luthor. This may be the last time tickets like these are within my price range.”

“Okay. But next sister night is on me.”

“So pizza, potstickers, and a movie?”

“Well retired MMA fighters don't make that much when their replacement career is part-time coaching and trying and failing to sell their own art.”

“Hey, you'll sell sometime. It just takes one to the right person.” Kara rolls her eyes.

Suddenly the lights go down and cheers erupt. A slightly eerie chiming begins. A spotlight comes up on a single, raven-haired figure. She is dressed in a leather black v neck vest, leather pants, and boots. Very much what someone would expect from her music.

Hey girl, open the walls, play with your dolls. We'll be a perfect family. When you walk away, it's when we really play You don't hear me when I say, Mom, please wake up Dad's with a slut, and your son is smoking cannabis No one never listens, this wallpaper glistens Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen

A hush had fallen over the crowd as Lena Luthor began her song. It was called 'Dollhouse’ from what Kara could remember. A catchy song with depressing lyrics. People all around joined in on the next verse, including Alex.

Places, places, get in your places Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces Everyone thinks that we're perfect Please don't let them look through the curtains Picture, picture, smile for the picture Pose with your brother, won't you be a good sister? Everyone thinks that we're perfect Please don't let them look through the curtains

Kara takes a long pull on her beer.

Hey girl, look at my mom, she's got it going on Ha, you're blinded by her jewelry When you turn your back she pulls out a flask And forgets his infidelity Uh-oh, she's coming to the attic, plastic Go back to being plastic No one never listens, this wallpaper glistens One day they'll see what goes down in the kitchen

Kara remembers the rumors that circulated about the Luthor family. Most of it was unconfirmed but this song coming out several years after only renewed them. Lena refused to comment in any of her interviews and ended them whenever a reporter dared to ask. Kara admits that she had gone beyond just listening to Lena’s music. She began to wonder who the person was behind the mysterious facade of a nearly unreachable woman.

Cheers and clapping erupt as the song ends. The next song is a completely different sound as Lena is handed an electric guitar. The lights come up so you can see the whole band and the different lights flashing around the stage. Everyone joins in almost instantly to 'Teenagers’ as smoke billows on to the stage and over the crowd.

They're gonna clean up your looks With all the lies in the books To make a citizen out of you Because they sleep with a gun And keep an eye on you, son So they can watch all the things you do Because the drugs never work They're gonna give you a smirk 'Cause they got methods of keepin' you clean They gonna rip up your heads Your aspirations to shreds Another cog in the murder machine They said all Teenagers scare The living shit out of me They could care less As long as someone'll bleed So darken your clothes Or strike a violent pose Maybe they'll leave you alone But not me

Kara decides just to sit back and enjoy being with her sister. The music is really good and Lena Luthor is really talented. Kara gets three more beers for both of them throughout the two-hour concert. Kara has a good buzz going by the time she and Alex shuffle to the parking lot with the mob of people. They wait for their Uber to pick them up on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for coming with me Kara.” Alex drapes her arm around her slightly shorter sister.

“I will always come when you ask me to. You, my sister, are my best friend.”

“And you're mine.”

***

Lena throws back another shot of Maker's and then let's the girl pulling on her hand lead her to the dance floor. The exclusive after-party was held in the loft of some new nightclub. The concert was long forgotten and it was that weird limbo time that got trapped between late night and early morning. People still packed the club and the pretty girl was more than eager to show Lena how big a fan she was. The brunet was pressing her ass into Lena and Lena let her own hands wander from the girl's hips and up her stomach.

“Want to get out of here?” Lena whispers in her ear.

The girl didn't respond and instead takes Lena's hand to make their way to the door of the club. Jess and her bodyguard follow at a distance, always making sure she is safe, despite Lena’s disregard for her own health. Lena’s hotel for the night is just a block away so the journey is quick. Even so, Lena begins exploring the woman’s body in the elevator. Kissing her neck to her collarbone. Fingers sliding under the white crop top that already showed too much skin. The woman’s hands tangle in Lena’s hair and sinful moans escape her lips.

Somehow Lena manages to open her door and get the woman who will help her feel something for the night onto the bed. Clothes were shed with little ceremony as soon as the door shut behind them. Lena resumed kissing her all over. All over except for the lips. She refused to make that connection. That was the thin line that turned sex from fucking into love and Lena couldn't do that again.

A thigh presses against the heat in Lena's center and she moans into the woman's neck. Slender fingers trail down Lena’s back and then caress her hips. They slide quickly in between the already dripping folds between Lena’s legs.

“Fuck.” Is all the girl says as Lena’s hips buck into her hand. She begins circling the swollen nerves and Lena grips the sheets as she hovers over the nameless woman. Lena is relieved that she is moving quickly because some of her partners would try to drag things out.

Lena bends and begins working on the brunette's nipples. Taking one in her mouth and earning a moan in return. The woman dips lower, finally entering Lena and setting a steady pace. Lena bites down slightly and it causes the fingers inside her to jump, bumping the most sensitive spot. Encouraged by whatever noise Lena made, the woman finds it again. And again. Soon Lena stops her menstruations to let her own sensations build inside her. Her release builds quickly and Lena does nothing to slow it.

Lena falls to the side and breathes deeply, reveling in the feeling of her own release.

“You are fucking sexy.” The woman says.

“Shhh… no talking.” Lena says, silencing her with a finger to the lips. Lena quickly begins to work to return the favor. The woman is easy to push over the edge. Almost as soon as the woman's cries end, Lena stands and throws on her sweatshirt and underwear.

“Feel free to take whatever from the minibar. I'm going for a cigarette. I recommend you be gone when I get back.” Lena says to the slightly confused woman. She nods in a daze and Lena steps out onto the balcony she made Jess pay extra for.

She only allowed herself one cigarette after sex. It always helped take her mind off the women and sometimes men she used and kicked out. Lena heard noses behind her, then the door opening and shutting. Lena pulled on the small comfort and watched the city forty floors below. Despite the late hour, lights still lit windows and moved along streets. Sirens could be heard faintly in the distance. It always amazed Lena that she wasn’t the only one whole really felt alive in the hours after two.

Lena puts out the cigarette butt and climbs back into bed. She stares at the ceiling, hoping for a dreamless sleep that alcohol usually brings her.

***

August 5th, 2017

Sweat pours down Kara’s head and back as she runs through the park. The early summer heat bakes onto her shoulders, already sweltering at eight-thirty. She had removed her t-shirt two miles ago and now clutched it in her fist, using it to wipe sweat out of her eyes. She loved finishing her runs in this park. A big fountain stood in the center, along with an ice cream cart that was always open at eight sharp.

Kara was just rounding the last corner when she ran straight into something or someone. Kara quickly grabs whoever it is to stop their fall, her own reflexes keeping her upright. Kara manages to grab one hand and wrap an arm around their back. Brown eyes stare into hers and Kara gulps, realizing who she is now holding.

“Elena!” The woman's eyes go wide.

“Kara!”

“Well, maybe this is destiny.” Kara surprises herself with how smoothly that came out.

“Yeah, to ruin my morning coffee.” Kara winces and looks at the spilled to-go cup now drained on the sidewalk.

“Well, I guess I’ll need that number so I can buy you a new one.” Kara recovers. Elena clears her throat.

“Kara, can I have my hand back?”

“Can I have your number?” Kara tries again. She isn't usually this forward but something is telling her not to miss this chance. Elena rolls her eyes.

“If I am going to give you my phone to put your number in, I will need my hand back.” Kara brakes into a huge grin and releases Elena. The dark-haired woman pulls her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over after unlocking it. Kara enters her number and sends herself a quick text.

“I'm still leaving town in a few days.” Elena tries.

“Looks like I'll have to take you to dinner tonight.”

Elena shakes her head. The loose bun on her head flopping a little. She pushes her glasses back up her nose.

“I can't tonight. Tomorrow though. I’ll have a few nights off work.”

“Hmm… a beautiful mysterious woman works a night job on weekends.”

“And that's all you will get for now,” Elena says, cursing herself for saying that much.

“Goodbye, Elena Colby. I'll call you tomorrow.”

Kara runs off in the opposite direction of where Lena was headed back to her hotel. The loss of her coffee was eclipsed by the distinct raised abdominal muscles of the persistent blonde that clouded Lena’s judgment.

Lena had to recover before her second performance tonight. After that, the tour was going to have a two-week hiatus and Lena was strongly considering spending that time in National City. She tried to shake off the image of the half-naked and actually very muscular woman but she had a feeling that that would be playing a role in her dreams tonight. Lena heads to buy another coffee before going back to her hotel to get dressed for the day.

***

K- How do you feel about Chinese food?

Kara glances at her phone again, waiting for a response from Elena. She had texted the woman, too impatient to wait for tomorrow to call. Frowning, she heads back to the mat to wait for her trainee to come back from his water break. James was a nice guy. He was friends with her cousin and had just moved to National City a couple months ago. Apparently, Clark had recommended he find Kara and train with her to make a friend and also learn some self-defense after being mugged in Metropolis. They fell into an easy friendship that didn't venture much outside the gym except for the occasional coffee or meal after a workout. Sometimes he would join her, Winn, and Alex for game night.

“You keep checking your phone,” James states while strapping back on his gloves.

“Yeah, I'm waiting for someone to respond. Now put 'em up.” Kara raises her padded gloves for James to hit.

They work methodically together. Kara calling out various moves for James to perform while she blocks each one. They work for about another half an hour before it's time to go. Kara is drying off her arms with a towel when she realizes that James is standing awkwardly in front of her.

“Hey. So I was wondering if you would like to get dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“Like a date?”

“Oh yeah. I mean if not that's cool.”

“Well actually, umm… I kind of already have a date for tomorrow. That's the text I was waiting on earlier.” James looks like a kicked puppy at the news.

“Sorry. Raincheck?” Kara didn't want to turn him down completely. James was a nice guy and all. Probably good for her too. But Elena intrigued her and she couldn't pass up this chance, even if she was leaving soon. It seems to brighten the man.

“Raincheck.” He repeats before leaving the gym. Kara looks back down at her phone and smiles.

E- Can sushi be involved?

K- I guess I could find a place that serves both. I'll send you an address when I do. I would pick you up but I actually don't have a car. How does 7 sound?

E- So do you just run everywhere then? Not that I don't enjoy the view. Seven sounds great.

K- walking or the bus. Sometimes I use my sister's bike but she needs it tomorrow. Besides, National City is best explored on foot. You miss too much otherwise.

E- Guess you'll have to show me around properly then. I'll see you tomorrow at seven.

Lena put down her phone and focused on getting ready for tonight after chuckling at the string of emoji's. She couldn't believe she was breaking almost all her rules and going out with this girl. She never let herself get attached. Attachment led to heartbreak and Lena had enough of that. She takes another swig from the flask and winces slightly at the burning liquid. Jessica sat on the couch managing Lena's life almost down to the second. Lena didn't know what to do without the woman. Jessica had been by her side since the label found her during her final year of college, well when she was eighteen. A talent show Lena had entered on a dare from her then-girlfriend led to her winning and signing a deal with Green Diamond Records. Here she was, two albums, three tours, and five years later. The only person she considered anywhere near to a friend was paid to be here.

Lena decides to leaf through the newspaper left on her dressing table. The front page is, of course, her sold-out concert. Something catches her eye in the bottom half of the paper though. A blurry, dark image of a hooded figure punching another shadowy form. The title reads Justice or Revenge? The word vigilante stands out in the small text so Lena starts reading.

Two nights ago another rapist and Cadmus gang member was apprehended by National City’s Vigilante. The criminal was left tied in an alleyway after an anonymous tip was called into the police. The photo was taken by CatCo’s own photographer, James Olsen who just happened to be working on another story for his own publication. The National City police would like to remind everyone that vigilantism is illegal and the apprehension of criminals should be left to the professionals. Any information about this person should be reported to...

Lena kept reading. There wasn't much. Only that whoever this was had been bringing in a lot of low-level criminals who the police were having trouble finding. Each had enough evidence to be convicted for several long years also. Lena decides to pull out her phone and look for more pictures but apparently, the one from this James Olsen was the only one in existence. No wonder the police couldn't identify them.

“Isn't that interesting news? I mean first the crazy guy in Gotham and now whoever this is taking on Cadmus. “ Jess says from behind Lena.

“Yeah, it takes a certain type of crazy to take on criminals like that.”

“It also takes a certain kind of crazy to do what you do.” Jess points out.

“I never said I was sane.” Lena drawls out. Jess laughs.

“Neither am I. But hey, crazy loves company.”

“Misery loves company.” Lena corrects.

“That too. Alright. Time for the last sound check.”

***

Kara carefully wound the bandage around her bruised ribs. Hissing at the soft pressure that brings slight relief once it's in place. The punch didn't break anything but it still hurt like hell.

“Kara!” Alex calls through the apartment. She winces at the anger in her sister's voice. Kara pulls her shirt back down, hiding the evidence of tonight's activities. Slowly Kara walks out of her bathroom and into the kitchen. Alex throws this morning's paper at her. She sees it. The picture that no one should have caught because it was three in the morning two nights ago. It just so happened to be at the time that James just happened to be working on another story about corruption at the docks.

“So they finally got a picture of this vigilante,” Kara says, trying to remain neutral.

“You know I couldn't figure out how they avoided leaving evidence of any kind. How every camera had been avoided. Now it makes sense. I trained you. Taught you more than I should.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“Save it, Kara. I bought that red and blue hoodie for you last Christmas. The marks left on the captives are consistent with a professional fighter. Most of the men would take significant strength to bring down. I know it's you. You have lied to my face about this for the last time.”

Alex is serious. If Kara pushes this could be their worse fight yet. Alex knows and Kara can't pretend any longer. Kara drops her head and goes to sit on the couch, hoping that siting will de-escalate the tension before Alex actually explodes. She winces as the bandages pull at her bruised ribs.

“Okay. Yes. It's me. I couldn't keep doing nothing. Not after that girl was raped and left to die not four blocks from here. Not when I can do something.” Alex follows Kara but doesn't sit.

“Kara! You need to leave this to the professionals. The police are trying to do their job and they can't if you are…”

“If I'm what?!” Kara explodes, standing again in front of her sister.

“If I am leaving criminals nicely tied up with everything but a bow? If I am leaving them alive and willing to testify against those even higher up? If I am giving people hope?”

“That isn't the point. It's illegal, what you are doing. It has been since the crazy Archer started killing off corrupt politicians in Starling City two years ago.”

“I'm not killing anyone! The police aren't actively looking for me because of that. Yes, they warn against it and try to seem like they are doing something but most of those cops are relieved that something can actually be done. Maggie told me so.” That makes Alex pause.

“Maggie knows?”

“Not who I am. She just thanked me after the third guy I practically dropped on the hood of her cruiser. I wear a mask and use a voice modulator.”

“How the hell do you have a voice modulator?” Kara winces. Knowing she slipped up again.

“Umm...Winn?”

“Winn!?”

“Well yeah, he's like super smart. Like the top IT guy for CatCo smart should have gone to MIT smart... Well, he made me a mask and a voice modulator and he's actually working on a suit for me to wear.”

“Winn knows.” Alex states.

“Winn gave me the idea. He has supported me through this whole thing.”

“I'm going to kill him.”

“Alex leave him out of this. It was my choice.”

“It's a stupid choice!”

“Well, I made it. And I'm not changing my mind now!” Kara yells back. She was right. This would be their worst fight. The never yelled like this. Not since Kara's very misguided choice of dating that man-child Mike.

“Kara!”

“Alex! For the first time since I quit the ring I feel like myself. Like helping people is what I am meant to do.”

“You can help people in other ways.”

“And I will. I'm going to start teaching self-defense lessons at different schools. But this, Alex this is making a difference. I can already see it.”

“You could get killed,” Alex says, suddenly soft.

“Or I'll risk regretting my life. I know the danger is real. That is why I am careful. It's why Winn has my back.”

“How does Winn have your back?” Alex asks.

“Umm… not something I think I can tell a federal agent who already hates him.” Alex finally sits on the couch and Kara follows her.

“Just promise me you won't be reckless.”

“I swear. We don't do anything without a plan.”

“Okay. So why did you ask me to come over then? I assume it wasn't so we could scream at each other.”

“I have a date tomorrow.” Kara grins at her big sister.

“Who?”

“The girl from Noonan’s. I literally ran into her at the park and pulled the smoothest line ever.”

“Blushing, babbling Kara Danvers pulled a smooth line on a pretty girl? Now I know your lying.”

“Well, I set myself up for it yesterday, even though it was the cheesiest thing to say, ever. I told her if I saw her again it would be fate or destiny and I would ask for her number again. Then on my usual morning jog, I turned a corner in the park and literally had to catch her from falling. She agreed to a date once I called it fate again.”

“You realize that your 'morning jog’ is something most people train for months to do once?”

“Not the point Alex.”

“Right, so does this girl believe in fate then?”

“No, I just think it was a good line.”

“Okay, so where are you taking her?”

“I want potstickers and she wants sushi so I was thinking that new Fusion restaurant. But I have no idea what to wear. I mean I haven't been on a date since forever. Help me?” Alex laughs at the pleading look on her sister’s face and stands to go look through her closet.

“You could do with fewer cardigans, you know,” Alex calls from the other room.

“I like them. They go with everything.” Kara calls back as she gets up to follow her sister.

“Well, they aren't really first date-worthy. Give me a second. I think I remember you having.. ah, here it is. Now if only you had… these work… shoes...shoes...shoes…” Alex is mumbling to herself while Kara sits on her bed to wait.

“Perfect!” Alex exclaims.

Kara perks up as Alex lays the outfit out on the bed. A dark blue off the shoulder shirt she forgot she owned with black ripped jeans and ankle boots.

“Blue was always your color. And arms are probably one of your best features. Especially for sweeping pretty girls off their feet.” Kara squeals and hugs her sister excitedly.

“Thank you, Alex!” Alex brings her arms up to hug Kara back. The pressure causes Kara to intake a sharp breath. Alex doesn't even ask what's wrong. She jerks her sister’s shirt up to find the bandages wrapping Kara’s torso.

“Kara!”

“It's fine Alex. Just some bruised ribs. Nothing is broken.” Kara thinks she can literally see Alex swallowing her next words. She just nods instead, not wanting to renew the anger already.

“Have fun on your date tomorrow. I have to go. Maggie and I are meeting to go over another case.”

“Have fun on your date then.” Alex rolls her eyes.

“It's not a date. Our superiors are just glad we are closing a bunch of cases. She has good connections on the streets. I have good connections in the FBI.”

“Okay, sis. But I'm calling it now.”

“Calling what?”

“Being the maid of honor at your wedding.” Alex begins sputtering in response.

“Goodbye, Kara. Remember the three date rule.”

“Three date rule?” That gives Alex some of her swagger back.

“Bye Kara.” She calls over her shoulder on the way to the door.

“Alex!” Kara calls after the woman, the door shuts without further explanation.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #au #vigilante #singer #WTFU #fanfiction

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anagentinwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Lifeline - Part 7

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2800+

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You had four boxes. Your life fit into four boxes. Sure, you didn’t have a bed or furniture, but luckily a few friends pitched in and gave you stuff they had laying around. Darryl had a spare TV and a TV stand; Sam offered you a coffee table and a few end tables; Bucky had three lamps his mom had given him, so they were pretty vintage, but you were okay with that. Nothing would match, but at least it was a start. Thor agreed to help you move the bigger furniture that couldn’t fit in your car and ended up inviting Sam, Bucky, and Steve along to help since they had the day off. More so, we were using Steve for his truck to haul things.

You unlocked the door, carrying your luggage and a box from your car inside. You looked around, remembering how the pictures online didn’t do the place any justice compared to seeing it in person. It had exposed brick on one of the walls in the living room while the rest of the walls were gray with white trim. It was small with an open first floor and stairs going up to the second story where the bedroom was. It even had a small balcony overlooking the first floor. Your bedroom had a walk-in closet with a washer and dryer in it and a furnished bathroom with a footed tub.

A huge feature that attracted you to this place was the security system. Your new landlady, Maria Hill, reassured you that she installed the best security system on the market from X-Con Security Consultants. They even created an app where you could look at all the cameras outside, and if the alarm is triggered, police are notified right away. The seven-foot concrete walls built around the nook of houses and the front entrance gate also made you feel more confident about living here. You had a few neighbors inside the walls, but from what Maria told you, they were great company.

You left your luggage at the door and set the box on the island in the kitchen. The kitchen had dark brown cabinets with a marbled countertop and newly installed stainless steel appliances. You always loved to cook, and you were surprised you only had one box labeled kitchen on it. You let out a deep breath realizing how excited and nervous you were to start over. You were excited to decorate and bring your new place to life with your personality, including the cutest nicknacks, rugs, and furniture. But there was a sense of nervousness to be out on your own. What will happen when he finds you? Will he hurt you, take you away, or worse? It sent a shiver down your spine just thinking about it.

“Is this everything?” Sam asked, placing two end tables in the living room area.

“For now,” you replied with a half shrug. “I’ll accumulate stuff.”

“Where’s the bed?” Steve questioned.

“Right there.” You pointed to the air mattress still in the box.

“That’s not a bed, girl. Come on, peeps, we're going shopping. Steve's truck can handle the haul,” Sam announced, marching back out the door with Thor and Bucky behind him.

“Well, can’t argue with that. I guess I’m buying a bed today.” You shrugged, and Steve smirked, following you out the door.

_______

The furniture store had a lot of cute things you wish you could buy, but for now, you decided against it. All you needed was a bed, so that’s all you were going to get. This place had a huge selection of beds, but it was going to be a challenge to find the right one.

“YN, this one is amazing. Lay next to me and try it out.” Bucky patted the bed beside him.

“No, come over here, and you’ll know what it feels like to have a real man in your bed,” Sam challenged, throwing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

“Real man is a strong word for you, Wilson. Don’t you think?” Bucky joked, throwing a pillow and hitting him in the face.

You rolled your eyes and laid down on a few beds, but they were no good. It was like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. You just couldn’t find the right one. One was too firm, one was too soft, and you still haven’t found the one that was just right. You walked around the corner of beds to find Steve lying comfortably on a bed with his eyes closed.

“Is this one any good?”

He opened his eyes and smirked. “I like it, but lay down and try it out.” He tilted his head to the open spot beside him.

You lay down beside him, closed your eyes, and let out a sigh of relief. “And this one is just right.”

“Hi, I’m Justin Hammer. Is the lovely couple looking for a new bed?” the salesman asked, stepping over to you and Steve.

You opened your eyes and sat up. “Oh, We’re not…” you stammered, trying to find the right words.

“Yes, we are looking for a bed. What kind of deal could we get on this? We just moved in together, and she hates my bed, and we can barely afford this price,” Steve replied without missing a beat.

“Let me see what I can do.” Justin nodded and walked back to the front table.

You gawked at him. “Have you done this before?”

“What…share a bed with a woman or negotiate a ridiculous price down?”

“The price.”

“Oh yeah, but it was for my truck.”

“YN,” Thor waved at you, getting your attention. “Come check out these bunk beds. Just think of all the space you would have for activities.”

“Why did I bring them along?” You threw yourself back on the bed, running your hands down your face.

“They all rode with me to your house.”

“So, it’s not my fault; it’s yours.”

He held up his hands in surrender and smiled. “It would appear that way, wouldn’t it, but you did get free labor to help you move.”

“I guess that does outweigh the embarrassment.”

Justin returned and gave you a different offer, which was a great deal for a queen size bed. Steve offered his hand to you and pulled you off the bed. Both of you walked over to the front desk together, keeping up the charade to sign the paperwork.

“Anything else I can do for you two?”

Steve pursed his lips and looked around. “Do you have any deals on couches? YN’s couch is pretty shot.”

“What are you talking about? My couch is the best!” You bumped him on the arm, earning a smirk from him.

“Wires are sticking out of it,” Steve added, shooting you a knowing look.

“Fine, but only if there is a good deal and we can afford it.”

“Follow me,” the salesman smiled, walking in front of you. Steve and you followed, and he nudged you with his elbow and mouthed, ‘we got this.’

Justin was telling us about a few pieces, and Steve was listening intently to him. You looked over your shoulder to catch Bucky doing hip thrust movements, and Sam had his back to them, hugging himself to look like he was making out with someone. Thor wiggled his eyebrows and was going to start another motion, but you caught his eye, and he stopped immediately. He waved at you and grinned, putting his hands on his hips. Sam nodded, glancing at you before walking away from them, almost like he was ashamed to take part in it. Bucky just stared wide-eyed at the floor, not making eye contact with you. All you could do was roll your eyes and return to listening to Justin still talking about couches.

The impromptu adventure to the furniture store was going to take two trips. One for the bed and another for the small deep gray sectional couch. We also had to make a quick stop to pick up some new bedsheets, which took much longer than necessary since everyone had to give their opinion on your choice. After getting the bed up the stairs, the guys went to pick up the couch as you got to work on putting the bed frame together. It was a quick snap in place and moving it to the right spot in your room. You put the box spring down first, then the mattress, and started to put on the fitted sheet when you heard yelling on the first floor.

“PIVOT, PIVOT, PIVOT,” Thor shouted, and you couldn’t help but smile. You peaked your head out the door to see them trying to get the couch in the door.

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP,” Bucky yelled, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, guys. All we have to do is tilt it and go straight,” Sam added. “No pivoting or arguing necessary. Let’s try it again.”

You watched them go back out the door, tilt it, and walk straight through the door and into the living room. At least one of them knew what they were doing. You put the comforter on top and placed the pillows at the top of the bed. You smiled to yourself and jumped onto the bed, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Wow, already got the bed together?” Steve asked, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“What, like it’s hard?”

“No, it’s--” you narrowed your eyes at him “--nevermind. Is it just as comfy as it was in the store?”

“I love it, but lay down and try it out.” You tilted to the empty side of the bed. He smirked and laid down next to you. “Satisfied?”

“More than satisfied.”

Steve let out a deep breath, and you could feel yourself sink in closer to him. Steve brought a strong presence, and he was a good man, something you weren’t used to. He was charming and playful but never overdid it. You closed your eyes, feeling the hairs on your right arm stand up when his arm brushed against yours. Your hand tingled, feeling the urge to reach out and take his. You bit your lip, hoping your mind would concentrate on something else instead of the man a few inches away from you. Your eyes flickered open, glancing at Steve. His eyes were closed, but it looked like he was at a battle with himself; With his jaw clenched and his eyes shifting under his eyelids before he finally shook his head and let out a sigh.

“Hey, YN.” Your head shot to the door to see Sam walk in, glancing between the two of you. “Ohhh, are you two testing the bed out?”

“Yeah, you want to test it out?” You asked, sliding over and patting the bed in the middle.

“No, I would hate to interrupt.” You patted the bed again. “Well, if you insist,” he smiled and jumped between you and Steve. Sam turned up to look at the ceiling. “I am just gonna come out and say it, but this bed sucks.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re never gonna have to sleep on it in then, Sam.”

“That you know of, Steve.”

“Okay, and on that note--” you got out of the bed “--I’m going to order some pizza as a thank you for helping me move in and getting me this comfy bed,” you added with a small smile leaving the room.

“Wow, Steve. I’m impressed how you were able to get YN into bed twice in the last few hours. And here I thought you weren’t interested in Thor’s sister?”

“Stop. It’s not like that.”

“For now.” Sam elbowed him in the side, forcing him to crack a small smirk.

_______

You sat at the table in the break room, sipping on your favorite caffeinated beverage. After moving into your condo last week, you’ve had a few rough nights. It’s like every little noise startled you awake, but the security system app helped with those long nights, especially with how you could look at all the cameras without leaving your bed. Also, sleeping with the lights on helped, and so did having a bat underneath your bed.

“Dang, Chicka, you look exhausted?” Luis greeted, entering the break room to refill his coffee.

“Thanks for pointing that out, Luis. I’ve just had trouble sleeping since I moved into my new place, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Oh man, you’re not living with your big bro no more? Moving up in the world, thata girl,” he commented. “Not gonna lie, you’re brother intimidates me a little bit.”

“He has that effect on people.”

“At least I’m not alone then,” he chuckled, snapping the lid on his mug. “Where did you move to?”

“This little condo on Kingwood Street. It has this great security set up by…”

“X-Con Security Consultants?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“A buddy of mine runs it. Great guy, super-smart when it comes to breaking into people’s houses. He can always find the weak spots people never even think about.” Luis smiled as you narrowed your eyes at him. “But, he doesn’t do that anymore after he went to prison.”

“That’s good,” you nodded with wide eyes. “I think.”

“Anyways, have a good shift, YN.”

“You too, Luis.”

______

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My fiance’s been stung by a jellyfish. Please send help?”

“Where are you?”

“Santa Monica Beach. Please hurry, he’s having trouble breathing, and his cheeks are swelling up.”

“I am dispatching units to you now.” You tapped the receiver to quickly get in touch with a first responder. “I need all available units at Santa Monica Beach. The victim is in his early thirties and his fiance believes he was stung by a jellyfish. He is wearing purple board shorts and answers to the name T’Challa. Upon arrival, Nakia will be waving her hands and bring you to him.” You clicked the receiver back to the caller. “How is he doing, Nakia?”

“He’s still wheezing but conscious, but his leg is starting to swell up. He tried talking, and it sounded very hoarse.”

“It’s the nematocysts in the tentacles, but whatever you do, do not remove it. From the sounds of it, he may be showing signs of an allergic reaction. Do you know if he is allergic to anything, or does he have an EpiPen nearby?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, then I want you to keep him lying on the ground, but lift his feet in the air about 12 inches off the ground. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, yes, I can do that,” Nakia replied as you heard her shuffling through the phone. “What now?”

“Keep him conscious and calm, but don’t give him anything. Responders are only a few blocks away.”

“Hey, hey stay with me. Don’t pass out on me,” she ordered. Sirens were coming through the line and when you looked at one of the screens in front of you, you knew they arrived.

“Oh my god, there here. Over here,” she shouted before she hung up.

“Hi, are you Nakia?” Carol asked, earning a nod and followed her to her fiance.

Val accessed him over by checking his breathing, response time, and his pulse. “T’Challa, I’m administering you an epinephrine shot now, and a dose of diphenhydramine to help with the itching and pain.”

Steve stood back and watched Sam and Val working together. He was still surprised with how fast and efficiently they could work together. Sam laid the stretcher on the ground next to him, and on the count of three, Val and Sam moved him onto the stretcher and strapped him in.

“I thought you needed to urinate on jellyfish stings?” Thor asked, walking beside Sam, who was carrying one side of the stretcher to the ambulance with Steve on the other end.

“What?” Bucky narrowed his eyes at Thor.

“Yes, it was on the Discovery Channel.”

“No, Thor. That’s a myth, and it’s not proven to do anything at all,” Sam added, rolling his eyes.

“Really, then why was it on TV?”

“I don’t know, ask the idiots who said that,” Sam stated, continuing to walk while Thor stopped and turned back around to assist Carol with the lifeguard.

“Had to hurt the big guys' feelings?” Val asked with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll apologize later.” Sam waved it off.

Bucky held the cot still as Sam and Steve put him on to it and slid him into the ambulance. Val quickly got into the ambulance and started administering oxygen. Nakia hopped into the back, and Steve shut the doors, tapping on the back, signaling to Sam it was safe to take off to the hospital.

_______

AN: Thanks for reading Part 7! She is all moved in and what a crazy fun adventure to the furniture store. And let's be real, who doesn't want to get the best deal possible, even if it means fudging the truth a little bit! Haha! In case you haven't noticed yet, I am someone who loves to throw in pop culture references, and in this case, it was a quote from Stepbrothers and Friends! I couldn't resist! Haha! And finally, Steve and her may be slowly (ever so slowly...relationships take time, right?! Haha!) catching feelings for one another, but will something or someone get in the way? Only time will tell or maybe it’s the next chapter.😉 Anyways, I hope you all are enjoying it so far, and likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome. Thanks again!

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princessanneftw · 6 years ago

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World leaders should reflect on war graves - Tim Laurence.

by Jacquelin Magnay

(for anyone that can’t access it on the website)

The immaculately tended headstones of more than a million graves around the world cared for by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission provide families with a place to remember lost ones and honour their sacrifice in World War I and World War II.

But according to Vice-Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence, the vice-chairman of the commission, it’s a potent reminder for world leaders of the human cost of war.

Sir Tim is the tall, vaguely anonymous man with dashing looks who stands behind his wife, Princess Anne, in royal gatherings on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, and who, for more than a quarter of a century, has been the quiet can-do royal consort.

Young royal partners Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle are credited with refreshing the royal family, but insiders know Sir Tim beat them to it. Anne is one of the hardest-working royals and her husband is often beside her, rock-solid in support.

With little grandstanding, they make a dynamic, efficient and practical couple. She has her heavy workload of royal duties; he retired from a long naval career to launch into work with the CWGC and English Heritage.

In a rare interview, conducted at Australia House in London, Sir Tim arrives with a warm welcome and firm handshake and immediately says: “Call me Tim.’’

He says it’s important that world leaders reflect on the graves of lives lost in war to remind them of the consequences of their decisions. He knows the impact of war well, having been mentioned in dispatches while commanding a patrol boat off Northern Ireland looking for IRA gun-runners, and commanding HMS Cumberland in the NATO taskforce in the Adriatic. He was also captain of the frigate MHS Montrose, which was deployed to patrols at the Falkland Islands.

Sir Tim has even written guiding principles for the Ministry of Defence on the often clashing roles of humanitarians and peacekeepers in warzones.

“It is not to say war is not, from time to time, necessary or unavoidable,” he says. “But it’s important for leaders to understand the human cost and if you stand under the Menin Gate (with 54,000 gravestones) or Tyne Cot (35,000) in Belgium, or the Thiepval Memorial (72,000) in France, or Gallipoli (20,000), you can’t fail to appreciate that a true cost has been made.”

His words mirror those famous lines, believed written by Rudyard Kipling for Princess Anne’s grandfather King George V in 1932: “I have many times asked myself whether there can be more potent advocates of peace upon Earth through the years to come than this massed multitude of silent witnesses to the desolation of war.’’

After eight years as CWGC vice-chairman, Sir Tim, 64, will soon retire from that position, but not before a tour of Australia, New Zealand and India this month to visit graves and learn how the commission can do things better.

As a long-serving supporter of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, a distant cousin of surf lifesaving, he is also open to visiting a few Australian beaches. “And if I see a surf lifesaver I will go up and say ‘Hello’ to them,’’ he says.

Sir Tim has not been to Australia since 1986, a period of great importance in his life. He was then a lieutenant commander in the Royal Navy and had just been told he was to be equerry to the Queen, a highly esteemed post only given to senior military officers.

He wasn’t to know that the commonwealth countries would be significant in his future and, at the time, he wondered if he should pull out of a naval tactical course he was to undertake at HMAS Watson base in Sydney.

But he went anyway, excelled at the course and had a great time with some Australian naval friends, coping with a surprisingly cold July in Sydney and heading to the Great Barrier Reef. Later that year, while working with the Queen, he met her daughter.

It’s not hard to see why Anne fell for Sir Tim, with their military backgrounds, passion for sport, particularly equestrian sports, sailing and rugby and, according to him, a love of lifeboats and lighthouses.

They married in December 1992 in Scotland — he was 37, she was 42, divorced from Mark Phillips and had two children, Zara, then aged 11, and Peter, then 15.

It was a tumultuous time for the royal family as, just days earlier, Prince Charles and Diana, the Princess of Wales, had announced their divorce.

In keeping with Anne’s eschewing of titles for her children, Sir Tim didn’t get a royal title, but that suited him fine.

“I try to get on and do my life as myself, as Tim Laurence, not as a member of the royal family,’’ he says. “I don’t have a royal title, I do not do royal duties except to accompany my wife and when it is appropriate. It’s important to pursue my own interests.’’

While Sir Tim will stand down from his role in June, allowing another defence appointment to take up an eight-year post, it’s clear he will retain a strong interest in war graves.

He urges Australians to remember not just Gallipoli but also the thousands of Anzacs on the Western Front.

“I understand why Gallipoli is an important part of Anzac culture, but the huge efforts the Australians put in on the Western Front — I hope Australians know this hugely important contribution’’ he says.

#timothy laurence #tim laurence #he’s retiring next year!!#i hope him and anne spend more time together then #squee #i love when he says ‘my wife’#heart eyes for u #interview #commonwealth war graves commission

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truthbeetoldmedia · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x04 "The Face Behind the Glass" Review

Many reviewers have already been singing the praises of Season 6 of The 100, and I’m here to add my voice to the chorus. It’s incredibly unusual for a show’s sixth season to still be just as good as, if not better than, its first few, but this season has already blown me away, and we’re only 4 episodes in! I could not be more intrigued by the mysteries Sanctum holds, and may or may not have already spent multiple hours theorizing about it with friends. “The Face Behind the Glass” was another terrific hour of television, written by Charmaine DeGraté and directed by Tim Scanlan!

Gabriel and his Children

The episode opens with Diyoza in the woods, building a fire. As it blazes to life, she assures her unborn daughter that she’ll teach her how to survive. Three Sanctum guards on motorcycles roar up, led by Jade, the woman responsible for protecting Rose, the nightblood child kidnapped by the Children of Gabriel. She comes with an offer: help them recover Rose and the heads of the Primes that were also taken by the Children, and Diyoza’s baby will be allowed to grow up inside the safety of Sanctum. Diyoza agrees to the deal, on one condition — she gets a motorbike too.

Back where the Children of Gabriel are camped out, one of the women, Tosh, strikes Octavia, asking her repeatedly how many more people with black blood are with the Earth people. Octavia refuses to answer, and Tosh wants to kill her as well as Rose, but Xavier tells her that “the old man” will make her talk. As the group continues to hike, Rose pleads with Octavia to answer their questions so that they don’t kill both of them. Octavia seems to have gotten attached to the child, because she assures her that she won’t let anything happen to her, and that while they might be monsters, so was she. Later, with Rose and Octavia tied to a tree, Xavier makes the mistake of leaving a knife on a backpack near Octavia, who is able to hook it with her foot and grab the knife. While the Children are distracted by another group of Children meeting up with them, Octavia and Rose make their escape.

Octavia and Rose run through the forest, but Rose is exhausted and tells Octavia she can’t run anymore. Octavia tries to motivate her by telling her that if she doesn’t run, she’ll die, but that just makes Rose burst into tears and cling to her. Octavia holds her tight, her hand cradling the back of Rose’s head just like Bellamy used to do hers, then gives her Bellamy’s patented “fear is a demon” pep talk. After Rose repeats “I’m not afraid” a few times, and the two dash off. They get surrounded by Children of Gabriel, but Jade, Diyoza, and the other guards come roaring up and quickly dispatch the kidnappers. But not before one gets off a shot at Rose, hitting her in the chest. Octavia looks on in shock as Jade cradles Rose’s body, wailing.

The Devils from Earth Become the Heroes of Sanctum

Diyoza correctly assumes that since Rose died, the deal for her child to be raised in Sanctum is off. But when Octavia mentions the leader of the Children of Gabriel, Diyoza gets an idea, and asks Jade — if she kills “the old man,” the leader of the Children of Gabriel, will the Primes honor the deal? Jade agrees, and Octavia and Diyoza gather weapons and camouflage from the bodies of the Children. Octavia already wants to kill Xavier, so Diyoza tells her, “looks like you’ve got a partner.” This is a team-up I’ve been hoping for since the two spoke on the Eligius ship in the Season 5 finale, and I’m really hopeful that Diyoza can pull Octavia back from the darkness. Octavia needs someone who won’t stand for any nonsense and can hold their own in a snark-off. I also find it interesting that Octavia refuses to tell the Children whether or not there are more nightbloods. Is this just out of stubbornness and refusal to help the enemy, or did Bellamy’s actions jolt her to her senses and make her realize that she needs to do better? She seems thoroughly shaken by Rose’s death, and I wonder if it might help her understand where Bellamy was coming from all those years.

Inner Sanctum

Back in Sanctum, Simone is trying to convince Russell to cancel Naming Day. She points out that the fact that the Children had sketches of Rose and Delilah and knew where to go to kidnap them means that they have spies inside Sanctum. She’s worried that they’ll use the distraction of Naming Day to strike again. She asks Russell to cancel the ceremony, saying, “Priya can wait.” Russell answers, “Would you say that if it was Josephine? If we cancel, Gabriel wins.”

In her room above the tavern, Delilah gets ready for her Naming Ceremony, Jordan in bed behind her. (Side note: how is it humanly possible to have an eight pack while propped up in bed?!) Jordan tells Delilah that his parents would have loved it there in Sanctum, and Delilah encourages him to unburden — Naming Day is a day to make amends for the things they feel guilty for. He tells Delilah about his childhood, wishing desperately to meet the people in the cryo pods, but they were just faces behind glass. Then he decided to go into cryosleep, and he became the face behind the glass to his parents, and he feels guilty for being happy here without them. Delilah thinks that they should take happiness while they can, and starts taking her dress off again. Who cares if she’s late to her Naming Ceremony — making amends is what the day is all about, right?

Downstairs, everyone is scurrying around making preparations for the celebration. Delilah’s father offers Madi a cookie (that looks suspiciously like a Keebler Fudge Striped Shortbread cookie), and tells her and Clarke that they and their people are the guests of honor. Jordan and Delilah come downstairs to applause, and Delilah makes a beeline to Clarke, embracing her and thanking her for saving her life. And isn’t it so nice to see Clarke be appreciated? She’s incredibly selfless, but gets little recognition for it. Cillian, the doctor that treated Murphy in the last episode, calls Delilah and Clarke over for a checkup. Delilah gets a clean bill of health, and Cillian tells her that after tonight, it’ll be like the kidnapping never happened at all. Delilah skips off, and Cillian turns his attention to Clarke. Despite her protests, he insists on checking the wound across her palm from the kidnapper’s knife — Abby made him promise he would. He flirts with her for a bit as he checks the wound, then advises her to keep the wound covered — if anyone finds out she has black blood, they’ll worship her.

As he walks away, Madi comes up to Clarke, knowingly saying, “He’s cute.” She then asks if this is what it’ll be like from now on, and Clarke says, “Why not? I think we deserve a fresh start, don’t you?” Way to jinx things, Clarke. Madi then asks if she can go to school, and despite lamenting that she hadn’t been able to a few episodes earlier, Clarke says no. She can’t risk anyone finding out that Madi is a nightblood, and besides, Madi chose the Flame over being a normal kid. Clarke reminds Madi that she can still take the Flame out, but Madi refuses, so Clarke reminds her that being the Commander comes with responsibilities, and she wants Madi to keep working at mastering the Flame so that Sheidheda doesn’t become a problem. Clarke sends Madi off to the ship to train with Gaia, and as Bellamy, Echo, Jordan, and Raven join Clarke, Raven wants them all to go to the ship too, where Miller, Jackson, Murphy, and Emori are, instead of to the celebration. Jordan panics a little, because he really wants to go to his first dance. Clarke points out that they’re guests of the Primes, and that it would be rude to isolate themselves on the ship. (Did this remind anyone else of when Clarke told Bellamy in Season 2 that they couldn’t think of things as “our side” and “their side” now that they were allied with the grounders?) Raven heads for the bar, and everyone else follows Delilah to the courtyard in front of the palace.

A crowd has gathered in front of the palace balcony, where Russell, Simone, Kaylee, and Miranda stand. Russell speaks into a microphone, welcoming everyone to Naming Day. He then asks the crowd to name the four pillars of Sanctum, and as they chant, “repent, renew, rejoice, rebirth,” Bellamy, Echo, and Clarke exchange uneasy glances. Russell tells the people that today they’ll be welcoming back their beloved Priya, and they all respond with “hallowed be her name.” Definitely looking more and more cultish. Russell announces that he will begin the process of making amends, and he turns to Kaylee. He tells her that he failed to keep her and her family safe when he realizes that she and her family didn’t make it to Ryker’s Keep before the eclipse. (Side note, remember the name Ryker; it’ll come up again.) “I closed the door,” he says. “I kept it open as long as I could, until the life of everyone else was at risk.” Does this sound like anyone else you know? Multiple times?

“Make amends for those you’ve hurt.”

Russell prompts everyone to turn to their neighbor and tell them that they love them, and make amends with those they’ve hurt. Clarke leaves the crowd and finds Raven in the tavern. Raven is still furious with Clarke because of her actions on Earth, namely that she didn’t know of Spacekru’s plan to help Octavia win the valley, so she sided with McCreary, and then turned in Raven, Echo, and Shaw to keep Madi safe. When Clarke approaches Raven at the bar, Raven knows why she’s there, and already has her defenses up. But rather than getting defensive and justifying her actions (which were completely justified in my opinion), she simply apologizes for all the hurt she’s caused Raven. It’s really hard to apologize without justifying your actions, especially when you have such a strong motive in saving your child’s life, but as we’ve seen in the past 3 episodes, Clarke is determined to live out Monty’s last wish for them and do better, be better. She stands silently, tears welling up, as Raven accuses her of being just as bad as Octavia, of only pretending to regret the bad outcomes of her choices, then angrily storms off. I’ll be honest, I’m really tired of Raven’s attitude toward her the last couple seasons, when Raven hasn’t had to make any huge, impossible decisions like Clarke.

The next part of the celebration involves writing your sins on strips of cloth and tying them to paper lanterns to be sent up into the sky. We finally get to see Bellamy and Clarke address her leaving him in Polis — and not for the last time, if the trailer is any indication. Clarke hesitantly approaches Bellamy, I’m sure still stinging from Raven’s attacks, and admits to him that her greatest regret was leaving him in Polis. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but Clarke presses on, her voice wavering.

“What I did — leaving you like that — I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

“I know what it’s like to risk everything for one person. And I know Madi’s your family.”

“Hey. You’re my family too. I lost sight of that. But I promise I will never forget it again. You’re too important to me.”

This conversation felt like so many fanfictions I’ve read, and it was so gratifying. Bellamy and Clarke will always be the most important relationship on the show, and the show is always at its best when the two are working together, so I really appreciate that this season is taking time to give the characters space to breathe and interact in deeper, more meaningful ways.

Clarke asks Bellamy if he’s going to try sending up his regrets with a lantern, but he says he has too many sins that would weigh the lantern down. “Octavia?” Clarke asks, but Bellamy isn’t ready to talk about it, and says, “No more amends today.”

Fights with Cranky Engines

Raven finds the mechanic’s shop in Sanctum, and in it, a man named Ryker, working on a motorcycle. (Remember when I told you to remember the name “Ryker’s Keep”?) It’s his mother’s, and he’s getting it tuned up for her, but having trouble. Raven’s eager to get back to her mechanic roots, so offers to help him out, introducing herself as Raven.

“Omen of death, cool.”

“Actually, that’s a misconception.”

“I hope so.”

Now, I don’t know that this “omen of death” comment was significant or foreshadowing, but I wouldn’t be surprised with this show, so take that as you will. Raven and Ryker definitely have a spark between them, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up hooking up in the near future.

Later, Raven, sporting her signature ponytail once again, gets the motorcycle running. Ryker comes down the stairs all dressed up, confessing to Raven that he’s not just a mechanic, he’s also a Prime who’s late for the Naming Ceremony. He asks Raven to go riding with him sometime, then invites her to come with him to the ceremony. It’s unclear whether she goes with him, because he’s standing up with the rest of the Primes when it’s time for Delilah’s renaming.

Now Clarke gets another costume change, just in time for the Naming Day party. She looks over the sea of people and colored lights, stunning in a deep blue dress, and Cillian drags her, laughing, onto the dance floor. Clarke finally lets herself relax and enjoy herself, and sways, twirls, and laughs with the man, while Bellamy looks on, somewhere between being jealous and being glad to see her happy. And can we take a moment to notice the lyrics of the song playing while she dances? (Bracketed lines were cut, and you may notice that the CW’s captions on the episode have incorrect lyrics due to the vocalist mumbling. The song is Underwater by RÜFÜS DU SOL.)

Seaside

[I’m running around looking for peace of mind

So come out and change me]

You were always around to make me smile

Stuck underwater, I’m stuck underwater

And I just need some space, my friend

It’s not what you wanted, it’s not what you wanted

But I just need a change again

Help me out before I drown

Save me now, before I give up

Help me out before I drown

Not to look at everything through Bellarke-colored glasses, but… the lyrics combined with Bellamy wistfully watching Clarke aren’t exactly subtle.

A Face Behind the Glass

After dancing (and smooching) it up at the party, Jordan and Delilah head up a group of people headed for the same courtyard in front of the palace once again. Delilah pulls away from Jordan, and approaches the group of Primes standing in front of a large door on the lower level of the palace. Russell tells Delilah that she has been chosen, like each of them, to receive the “great miracle of Sanctum.” He asks if she accepts this honor, and she assents. He then asks her to come forward to be so named, and Delilah hesitates. She starts forward, then turns and rushes back to Jordan, kissing him, and whispering, “Don’t let me be a face behind the glass.” Jordan is confused, but before he can respond, Delilah heads back toward the door with the Primes.

When Delilah comes back out, she’s wearing a new dress, and has a glamorous new hairstyle and makeup. She looks coolly upon Jordan as he greets her, and royal guards move to block him from approaching her. She hugs Ryker, saying, “my beautiful baby boy,” and we realize that this isn’t Delilah any longer, but that Priya has somehow possessed her body.

An Hour Before the Devil Fell

Clarke has other things on her mind than the Naming Ceremony. Specifically, Cillian. The two stumble into Cillian’s room after the dance, kissing urgently. Cillian helps relieve Clarke of her beautiful blue dress, then things fade to black, as the next we see them, Cillian is standing at the window, while Clarke sleeps behind him. Clarke wakes, then wraps a sheet around herself and joins him at the window. We see that the walls of his room are papered with sketches; he’s a fellow artist too. “God, it’s beautiful here,” she marvels. But Cillian responds, “Until an hour before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in heaven.” A line from The Crucible, Cillian tells her, Gabriel’s favorite play. But the Primes banned that play. Clarke asks what the quote means, and Cillian says, “I suppose it means that there’s two sides to every story.” He elaborates that not everyone in Sanctum believes in the divinity of the Primes, and we begin to realize that he’s the spy for the Children of Gabriel.

Before he can explain further, Delilah comes out of the palace, and Clarke wants to see the rest of the ceremony. But as she zips her dress up, she notices a sketchbook with a page sticking out of it. She pulls it out to see a page covered with sketches of the people from Earth, with a few faces crossed out, and Clarke’s circled. Cillian tries to explain it away, but Clarke knows that something isn’t right. She rightly guesses that the reason her drawing is circled is because she’s a nightblood, and Cillian wants to know who else in the group is. She tells him that she’s the only one, and tries to get around him, but Cillian doesn’t believe her, and tells her that he’s not the one she needs to be afraid of. He still refuses to let her through the door, so she heads for the window, and he picks up a blow gun and hits her with a paralytic dart. As Cillian carries Clarke to the bed, he tells her that she’ll be fine once he gets her to the Children of Gabriel. He assures Clarke that the Children won’t hurt her, and applies a gel that he hopes will allow him to pass through the radiation field. If his death can put an end to the Primes, it will be worth it. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, Clarke knocked over a wine glass as she fell, and guards burst through the door. Cillian grabs a knife, prepared to kill Clarke to keep the Primes from having another host, but the guards stop him. Rather than letting them interrogate him, Cillian growls “death to Primes” and slits his own throat, collapsing as Clarke’s paralyzed eyes watch in horror.

I wonder if Cillian really thought that the Children of Gabriel wouldn’t harm Clarke, despite her black blood, or if he was just a really convincing liar. It seems clear that his plan was to tell Clarke about the whole power structure of Sanctum and ideally have her come to the conclusion that the Primes were bad on her own, but he got really sloppy and left his creepy nightblood-vs-red blood checklist laying around. And this show rarely introduces something like that gel without using it again, so be on the lookout for that.

An Echo in the Dark

Echo approaches Bellamy at the party, and noticing the look on his face, asks what’s wrong. He tells her that the last time he was at a party, his sister got arrested (which isn’t even true, he’s been to at least two since then!). Echo responds that if he’s going to tear himself apart over leaving Octavia, they should go get her. Bellamy tells her that he’s not tearing himself apart, he’s mourning her. “This is me being human — feeling things when people I love are in trouble or die. The Echo I knew on the Ring did that. Why don’t you?” Echo counters that this isn’t about her, but Bellamy points out that they lost Monty and Harper three days ago, and she’s shown no emotion or response to the loss of two members of their family. He ends the conversation with a biting remark that it’ll take him a little while to feel nothing over Octavia, like a good Azgeda spy, and Echo leaves.

After the Naming Ceremony, Bellamy finds Echo in the tavern, drinking. He joins her at the table, and apologizes for taking his feelings about Octavia out on her. Echo tells him that she does miss Monty and Harper, even though she might not show it. “I know,” Bellamy responds, and when Echo shakes her head, he repeats it more firmly. “I know.” “You were right,” Echo tells Bellamy. “I feel myself closing down again.”

“Of course you are. We’ve been fighting to survive since the moment we left the ring.”

“I’ve been fighting to survive all my life. I was eight when Queen Nia’s army took our land. My father resisted. They killed him while my mother hid with me in the cellar. ‘If you cry, they’ll hear you,’ she said. So I didn’t.”

“You told me you didn’t remember your parents.”

“Best way to get rats out of their hole? Start a fire. I remember the way it smelled. The wood. The smoke. Her hair.” Echo’s voice cracks and tears spill over. She continues, “When Nia heard what happened, she executed the men who did it, had me brought to Troit, and started my training.”

Bellamy comes to sit closer to Echo, saying, “I hate that that happened to you. But everything we’ve been through has brought us here. From now on, we look forward, not back.”

Echo nods, breathing deeply, and the two kiss.

I was really glad to see that argument between the two play out, because Bellamy was right — we haven’t seen much of any emotion or depth to Echo this season, or even last season. And finally we get some backstory for Echo, after 2 full seasons of being a major character. The scene where she talks about her parents is legitimately the first time since Season 2 ended where I actually found myself invested in Echo as a character. She’s been little more than a cardboard cutout of a “badass” warrior woman whose only job is to be snarky and swing swords around, and it sucks because there was so much cool potential for her. She has truly been an echo, not a fleshed-out character, and I’m glad to see that the writers recognize that, and am hopeful they’ve done and will do better at giving her more depth instead of just being a prop for Bellamy. I’ll be honest, I’ve never been much of a fan of Echo or her relationship with Bellamy, but I’m so hopeful for the writers to make her an interesting character, develop her own identity beyond Bellamy. I want her to be someone I can like, and based on the way things are going, and what has been said about her backstory reveals this season, that might actually happen!

The only thing I didn’t like about these scenes was that Echo made Bellamy’s grief over Octavia about her. Of course it wasn’t great of Bellamy to lash out at Echo, but instead of holding space for him to work through his incredibly complicated relationship with his sister, who Echo has been pushing him to reconcile with since the beginning of the season, she talks about her own tragic backstory. The moment when Bellamy is dealing with this isn’t the moment to reveal to him that you’ve been lying to him about your past for years. And I can’t imagine what kind of relationship the two had on the Ring that Echo never felt like she could tell Bellamy about what happened to her parents. Yes, she is a private person, but who are you going to share that with if not your significant other? Revealing her Tragic Backstory in the moments that should have been saved for Bellamy to work through his feelings about Octavia felt a bit cheap.

On a totally different note, did anyone else catch that the Azgeda capital was named Troit? As in, De-troit?

Hallowed Be Her Name

Finally, we rejoin Clarke, still paralyzed, being carried by a royal guard, accompanied by Russell, into the same room on the ground floor of the palace that Delilah entered for her renaming. This time we get to see what’s inside, from Clarke’s point of view. She is laid on a table in the center of a circular room, with rows of skeletons circling the table like spokes on a wheel. We know from the script excerpt the writers posted that there are 12 rows of them, for 12 Primes. A ramping solo cello plays as Clarke looks frantically about the room. Simone is already in the room, and after dismissing the guard, Russell tells her that Cillian was the traitor. Simone asks why he hasn’t used the antidote for the paralytic on Clarke yet, and Russell, touching Simone’s necklace, tells her that she knows why. “She has the blood. Tell me not to do this, and I won’t, Simone.” Simone tells him that Jade has returned, and Rose is dead. “Okay,” Russell says, desperation tingeing his voice. “Here’s the math. There are no more hosts. It was 14 years between Rose and Delilah — 14 years. Josie’s still 3rd in line — that means her host won’t be born for, at best, 35 years. Another 21 until her brain is ready. We can wait 56 years for our baby girl’s Naming Day, or we can get her back tonight. All we have to do is kill this innocent girl.”

Simone opens the locket around her neck, revealing a Flame-like chip inside, and we hear the bells and synth associated with both the City of Light and the Flame as Clarke puts the pieces together. “I’ll prep for insertion. You clear the host,” Simone says. The cello grows more and more frenzied as Russell apologizes to Clarke for what he’s about to do to her. Tears fall from Clarke’s eyes, and Russell assures her that she won’t feel any pain. “The mind of the host is erased, but the brain is left unharmed. You’re giving us such a gift, Clarke. Sacrificing your body so that someone else might live.” Simone wonders at the perfect timing, that after 236 years, as the Primes are on the brink of extinction, a perfect host arrives on their doorstep. Russell injects Clarke in the neck with a large syringe, then says, “No more fighting, Clarke. You’ll be at peace. A better place, just like you said you wanted.” He kisses Clarke’s forehead as her consciousness, and our screens, fades to black.

We start to see blurry shapes and hear muted conversation, Simone saying that Clarke’s brain function was starting to return. As things sharpen, we jump outside her body to see Clarke sit bolt upright, screaming. It seems Josephine’s consciousness resumed right as where it ended, with Josephine falling (remember, Russell told Clarke his daughter had died in a fall). Josephine calms down, looking relieved to see her parents there with her. Simone pulls Clarke’s hair (or is it Josephine’s? How long does someone have to inhabit a body before the body becomes their own?) away from Josephine’s neck to check her sutures, and we see a familiar incision at the base of her skull. Josephine slides off the table, and walks to a large mirror to check out her new habitance. Eliza Taylor truly kills this scene, because while it’s the same face we’ve been watching on our screens for 6 years, Josephine looks nothing like Clarke. In fact, her expressions are exactly like the original Josephine’s, who we met in a flashback in episode 6x02. Josephine surveys her new body, twirling her hair around her finger the same way she did 236 years ago. “Now, this I can work with,” she says, smirking.

Final Thoughts

Many people in the fandom had hypothesized after last week’s episode that Clarke would become the new host for Josephine, but I don’t think any of us were prepared for how brutal it actually was. They wiped Clarke’s brain, you guys. Now, of course, we all know there’s very little chance that our heroes won’t find a way to get her back, but even that slight possibility is terrifying. Clarke has had both the Flame and ALIE’s chip in her head, so I wonder if there’s still some aspects of that code that remained in her mind and will protect her consciousness. The Flame protected Clarke in the City of Light, after all. Another possibility, one alluded to by Gaia, is that there might still be a copy of Clarke’s consciousness on the Flame, that they might have to download into Clarke. This would mean that the “new” Clarke would be the one that went into the City of Light at the end of Season 3, which would mean that the Clarke from the past 2 seasons would be erased. (Shoutout to my friend April for thinking of that one!) It would certainly be a bold move. It would also explain why we see Clarke back in Mount Weather in the season trailer — the consciousness in the Flame could be reliving her worst moments and hardest decisions over and over again. Or Josephine’s consciousness could put Clarke’s in there, sort of like a mind palace, to keep her from breaking through. So many possibilities!

I really hope that our heroes are able to recover Delilah, too, and I loved that her way of warning Jordan that something was off and asking him to save her was by referencing the conversation they had earlier in the episode. Jordan of course didn’t know at the time what she meant, but between the way “Delilah” acted when she came back out of the palace and now Clarke having been taken over by Josephine, I’m sure he’ll put it together. Clarke and Delilah have both become faces behind the glass — it looks like it’s still them walking around, but you can’t talk to them, just like Jordan couldn’t talk to all the people in cryosleep. I don’t have much hope for Delilah’s consciousness, though, unfortunately — Jordan is jumping right into losing people he loves.

Who is Gabriel? We know that the doctor who the original Josephine was hooking up with was named Gabriel, and can extrapolate that he’s who the Children of Gabriel are named after, but since the Children are so vehemently opposed to the Primes and everything they stand for (for example, implanting their consciousness into host bodies so they can live forever), it seems unlikely that Gabriel has been transferring his consciousness from host to host. But we know based on the script that the writers released that Gabriel created the serum the Primes inject the hosts with to wipe their minds, though it took him over 20 years. So Gabriel was still on Russell’s side after the first eclipse and Russell’s massacre, for over 20 years. I wonder what made him change his mind and break off from the Primes?

The Children of Gabriel that we see in the forest also seem to be separated from Gabriel in some way, because last week they said things about “the old man” (also the descriptor Russell and Simone used for Gabriel) coming back to them. Strangely, however, the Children of Gabriel always refer to him as “the old man.” I’m intrigued to find out who or what Gabriel is, and how he’s survived this long. One of the Children mentions that if they want to speak to “the old man,” they’ll have to go into the anomaly, which is one of the things I’ve been most curious about since seeing the season trailer. There is some sort of glowing green storm or aurora on planet Alpha that we see a few times in the trailer, but we have no idea what it is or what it does. I have a few theories of my own (maybe time moves more slowly inside it, hence why Gabriel could be 260 years old without being a Prime?), and I’m excited to find out if I’m right!

Sundry Observations

I loved the moment of Diyoza talking to her unborn child, assuring her that she’ll teach her how to survive.

It cracks me up how the Children of Gabriel greet one another with “death to Primes” and say goodbye by saying “death is life.”

When Josephine wakes up, it’s in the same way as when Murphy woke up after “dying.”

It was so cute how Jordan put his hands over Madi’s ears when Raven insinuated that he’d been having sex! Such a big brother moment.

The music in the scene where they were all prepping for the party was so sweet, it reminded me a lot of the hopeful, wide-eyed music in Season 3 when Kane and Abby were at the party.

I’m glad Abby is getting a chance to learn more about their medical stuff, I’m sure that’ll be helpful in the event they do have to leave Sanctum.

Echo’s line, “Murphy missing the chance to act like a drunken fool? Now I’m worried” made me laugh. And I have no idea what’s going on with that guy — he’s had near-death experiences before and never became a reformed man.

I’m loving all the new music for Planet Alpha, particularly how it mingles with the Bellarke scene during the scene where Clarke apologizes to Bellamy, and the solo violin behind Russell’s speech about making amends.

I’m really glad to find that the Children of Gabriel aren’t nearly as primitive as the grounders — it didn’t make narrative sense for civilization to have devolved so quickly, and we didn’t need a repeat of that.

The 100 airs Tuesdays at 9/8c on the CW.

#The 100 #The Face Behind the Glass

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years ago

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6x07: Family Matters

Then:

The Big Baddie Alphas are building armies and Sam is a soulless sociopath

Now:

Sam is trussed up after Dean beats the living crap out of him. Cas is there for angelic input.

He asks Sam how much he sleeps and they learn that he hasn’t since he’s been back. Then Cas asks what Sam is feeling. Sam doesn’t have an answer for that. A light bulb goes off for Cas and he tells Sam to bite down on a leather belt.

He proceeds to shove his hand into Sam’s abdomen. He finds that Sam’s soul is missing. It appears that when he was resurrected from Hell, his soul was left behind.

Dean wants to know if he’s still Sam and then tells Cas to get his soul out of the Cage. Cas says it’s not that easy.

Sam asks to be untied, but Dean refuses. Sam reveals that he had untied himself anyway. Dean is going to have to face facts and just work with him. Dean relents and makes their first priority to find out who yanked him out of Hell.

Sam has no memory of who got him out of Hell. He only has one lead: The Campbell Compound. Parker Lewis Christian Campbell greets them at the door and sends them to Samuel in his office.

Dean asks about Samuel’s return. Cas flaps in (and I really miss that wing flap sound, guys) to do another thorough investigation. Samuel still has his soul. Sam tells his grandfather that he doesn't have his soul. Samuel had his suspicions. “You’re a hell of a hunter, Sam, but truth is, sometimes you scare me.” Samuel wonders how they can fix this. Cas then announces that he has to go because, oh, he’s just in the middle of a civil war. Dean wants Cas to find something upstairs to help them. “Of course, your problems always come first. I’ll be in touch.” OUCH. Like, OUCH. They all seem mildly annoyed that he left. And I’m slightly annoyed they aren’t paying attention! (Natasha: Rewatching this season, I like to see these nuances. Cas is fighting a war when he learns about Sam’s soul. What must that do to his confidence, knowing that his first victory after his resurrection was a false one?)

The brothers then learn that the Campbells have a lead on the alpha vampire. They want in on the hunt, but Samuel isn’t so trusting of Dean. Dean makes it clear that he’s here to follow Samuel’s orders. Later, when the brothers are alone, Dean admits to not trusting Samuel, but they need him so it’s time to lend a hand.

They set to work in the compound. Dean quickly wanders off to sneak into Samuel’s office. He’s caught and confronted by Christian. He insults Lisa and threatens Dean. Family for the win! Things are going to go just peachy on the run, I can tell!

The family assembles and head out on their mission. Once at their destination, Samuel makes Dean hang back with Gwen. They’re soon attacked by a vamp that Gwen dispatches in no time.

Dean then hears gunshots and takes off to the house. There are dead vamps everywhere. He sees a member of the Campbell group get sucked behind a curtain followed by a spray of blood, and then he hears Samuel yelling towards Sam. He follows the voice and sees that a bunch of them are hauling a vamp with a hood on into the van. Dean has a flash of a memory (idk, I’m not watching this is order so I don’t know if this is in reference to something Dean is going through or what. I should go read Superwiki, but nope.) (Natasha: These are all visions he had when he was briefly a vampire! He was seeing the alpha vamp’s house, but didn’t know it at the time. Now all the pieces are clicking. HEY this must explain why every vampire is suddenly an amazing fighter. Contagious memory.)

Dean makes it back to Gwen just in time for the others to find them. ALLS GOOD EVERYWHERE. Samuel says they killed the alpha. Dean wants to see the body. Too late, they already burned it.

While driving alone, Dean asks Sam about the hunt. Everything went fine! Dean stops the Impala. He gets out and angrily tells Sam that he saw him march the alpha out of the house. “Oh,” Sam says, a perfect response. It seems that Samuel has been capturing alphas and taking them somewhere to interrogate. It was Sam’s idea not to let Dean in on the situation. Dean can’t believe it and wonders if Sam even once wondered how shady this whole thing is. Dean tells Sam that they don’t have to work together, but if they do, he’s in charge because Sam has no instinct and can’t tell right from wrong. Or, Sam can go his own way.

At the Campbell compound, Sam approaches Samuel alone. He’s ditched Dean and wants to join the fight. Y I K E S. Samuel refuses to let him in the inner circle, or give him access to the king vamp, however, on account of the whole “lack of soul” thing. Double yikes! Later, Sam creeps through the parked cars outside and messes with a cell phone.

Cut to Dean, brooding in the Impala. Sam shows up, to Dean’s surprise. Sam’s turned double agent, but Dean still only gave him a 60/40 chance of actually returning to carry out their plan.

When Samuel failed to trust him, Sam enabled GPS on one of the cell phones in the van. He pulls up Samuel’s location on his computer.

They track Samuel to a warehouse. Dead man’s blood is painted on the doors, forming an effective vamp prison. They creep inside, evading Campbells to find Samuel interrogating the head honcho vamp. Samuel’s trying to find something, and he’s willing to cage and torture the alpha vamp to learn its location. The alpha vamp is ancient, and supremely unimpressed by Samuel’s efforts.

When Samuel storms away in a huff, the alpha vamp tells Sam and Dean to come out of hiding. So much for stealth! “How can I help you?” he asks, like a king. Dean pulls out his best snark, only to have some of that smacked away when the alpha addresses him by name. “You were my child for a time.” Awww...family don’t end in blood? Family starts in blood? While the alpha taunts Dean, he slowly scratches away at his cuff with his super mega vamp nail, all he can muster under the influence of a dead man’s blood IV.

The alpha tells Dean that he’s way too old to be concerned about mere Winchesters. “Soon I’ll be ankle deep in your blood, sucking the marrow from your bones.”

Sam wants to know who made the alpha vampire, if he’s the first vampire. “We all have our mothers.” Chief vampire refuses to elaborate, switching to taunt Sam about his lack of soul. (Interesting bit of vampire lore that I totally forgot about: the alpha tells Sam that he “smells cold” without his soul.) Now we’re getting to the good stuff, and by “good stuff” I of course mean metaphysical analysis of the soul. The alpha vamp leads the discussion to ponder the place where all monster souls go. He reveals that Samuel has been interrogating him to find out how to locate Purgatory.

Their revelatory discussion is interrupted by the Campbell crew who disarm the Winchesters. Dean berates Samuel for his nefarious dealings and the Winchesters try to get the drop on their captors. During this confrontation, the alpha vamp taunts the lone guard in the room before breaking free. In seconds, he’s out of the cage and chomping on the guard, whose scream alerts the unhappy family outside.

They take stock of the situation and Samuel grumbles that they need to catch the alpha and lock him up again. Dean’s shocked. The vampire has to die or he’ll kill all of them. They split up to search the warehouse.

The alpha attacks the Sam/Samuel/Christian crew first, easily knocking aside all of them and snapping Christian’s neck. The alpha pins Sam to the wall and tells him that he plans to turn him. “You will be the perfect animal.” Uh. Yikes.

Sam gets saved at the last minute by Christian who wields a syringe of dead man’s blood. Christian’s eyes are demon-black.

In an instant, more demons arrive, then Christian and the other demons zap out with the alpha. Cut to...Crowley slow clapping from a balcony. Surprise, mofos! Samuel demands that Crowley un-demonify Christian. Crowley gleefully drops the news that Christian has been possessed by a demon for ages and ages.

Dean puts two and two together and demands to know how Crowley and Samuel are linked. Samuel’s been helping Crowley search for Purgatory. Crowley insists that he wants the territory and will say nothing further to mere peons. “We ain’t your employees,” Dean snaps. Oh, HONEY, you are. Crowley reveals that the Winchesters have been working for him through their connection to Samuel. In fact, Samuel was a specific lure for them, on account of their general predilection for family loyalty. Crowley brought Samuel back to life and boasts that he brought Sam back as well. If anyone gets out of line, Sam goes right back into the cage.

Instead of a nice, big family hug after Crowley departs, Gwen and Samuel lock horns before Gwen stalks off to see to the vehicles. Sam and Dean try to get into it with Samuel but he just calls them “family” and tells them that they can kill him or step aside and let him work. Sam immediately pulls a gun on him. LOL. (I can say “LOL” at that, right? This scene is so grim.) Dean pushes Sam’s hand down. No, Soulless Sam, BAD! They’re going to let Samuel go, because he’s family and Dean just...can’t.

Sam wants to know if he and Dean are going to start working for Crowley. “Demons bone you every time,” Dean insists. Working for a demon is the worst thing he can consider, but Sam tries to work his soulless logic. They’re dead unless they play ball.

“You with me, Dean?” Sam asks, and we fade to black.

I am the Alpha Quotepire! Is he speaking in tongues? Are you speaking in tongues?

My true form is approximately the size of your Chrysler building.

Of course. Your problems always come first.

Would have asked him to stick around for a beer.

We got some questions for you, skippy, since you're going nowhere fast.

What is it like to have no soul?

Well, if the old man's Kermit... whose hand's up his ass?

You two are so hung up on family-loyalty nonsense, he said jump, you'd get froggy.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 6x07 #family matters #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #samuel campbell #crowley #supernatural season 6

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elliotcnderson · 6 years ago

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@sncdkora

“Ridiculous! It’s utter bullshit. You’re telling me that it has just gone missing?” Nothing just went missing. Elliot’s apartment was immaculate, because the synths that were paid to clean it and they always did a perfect job. It was that or get incinerated. With a huff Elliot paced along the span of the glossy window that overlooked the hideous city. From here he could see everything. Far too much of the lower side if you asked him what he really thought of the view. Apparently it was too much to ask someone to build a wall between them. Elliot threw down the wine glass he’d been gripping too tightly. It shattered with a shrill noise against the marble and just as quickly the soft hum of a sweeper as it hoovered up the smashed glass. “That dress was made for me no-one else is going to fit into it.” Unless they’d had the exact same bio-sculpt as him which was unlikely. Elliot had paid good money for an exclusive look.

The synth didn’t flinch. The good little servant that it was it suggested that Elliot get into contact with the Nova Corps. “Excellent! They’re just as useless as you! Call them why don’t you and get out of my face.” Elliot flicked his wrist and turned away to step out onto the balcony whilst the synth disappeared to make the necessary arrangements. The little shit was the bane of Elliot’s existence but it had come free with the lease. Even Elliot couldn’t turn down a freebie. It was announced through the home hive that it would be a short wait for someone to be with him regarding the incident. Elliot took that as a cue to find a fresh glass of wine.

It took longer than expected for anyone to get back to him. There was the polite response and then another that they were just dealing with his request. Then, finally a notification that someone had been dispatched to his location. Unbelievable. Elliot was seething before there was even a knock at his door that his missing golden dress wasn’t top priority. Did they not know who he was at Nova Corps? Elliot had a gala to attend to tonight in honour of raising money for the poor children of the lower side. He didn’t think much of the children, but events meant booze and a chance to be loved. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for someone to arrive–” Elliot had yanked the door open and spoken all at once. The Nova Corp that waited for him on the other side wasn’t what he expected. He was ninety percent sure it was a fucking synth. That ghostly vacant look. He smiled, sickly sweet. “They’ve told you what happened? Someone has stolen my dress! It is a ghastly crime, that dress is worth thousands of dollars and you must see it returned before tonight.”

#kora ( 001 )#melodramatic #i need to make my own gifs why are gifs so small

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hybridequalist · 8 years ago

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Misconceptions Unveiled

My first fanfiction post! (This can also be found on my Ao3 account here)

Fandom: Undertale

Characters: Papyrus, Tabatha (OC)

Ships: PapyrusXFem!OC

AU: Medieval

Rating: Everyone

Notes: Songfic (link here)

Feel free to leave me some feedback! I’m trying to get into writing some drabbles and oneshots, so if you have any requests or suggestions, feel free to message me!

Papyrus was so nervous his bones were lightly clacking against one another. Of all the monsters of the Royal Guard that had been dispatched to this tiny human kingdom, he was the one who had been selected to remain behind. This young nation had an equally new queen on the throne who had sought an alliance with the kingdom of monsters, hoping for peace rather than the hostility that seemed the default perspective of her race. The guard had come as part of a goodwill gesture, exchanging one young trainee for another from the humans’ army. The tall skeleton had never suspected that he would be the one chosen while he still had so much of his own apprenticeship to complete!

As part of his schedule, Papyrus had to meet with the young queen and have a discussion with her as well as a report about what he had learned through training with her own guards. However, it was the first week of being in the human kingdom—there hadn’t been much time for him to adjust and he was already late after having gotten lost on the way to the royal study. He had no idea what his fate would entail. According to the stories told among monsters, human royalty could be unforgiving when it came to punishments—even among their own kind.

When he finally found the right set of double doors (they needed a labelling system here!), the trainee guardsman raised a hand to knock before he heard the sound of a lute being played. Not wanting to interrupt—and more than a little curious—he cracked open the door to get a peek.

Seated on a plush armchair was Queen Tabatha of the Humans. She was the one lightly strumming the instrument. Her face was more solemn than Papyrus had ever seen it—she was usually smiling and cheerful. She wasn’t looking at where her fingers were playing the chords and instead looked out the window, her eyes upon the darkening night sky.

“The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls, They shine with equal splendor, still above far humbler halls. I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow, Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.”

She gracefully rose to her feet, setting the lute down, and strode over to a hanging mirror that rested above the fireplace. It normally reflected the room, but the royal woman was using it to study her own face as she continued to sing. Her fingers lightly brushed the diadem on balanced on her brown locks.

“The royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow, I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow. But once I took the crown to which I had been schooled and bred, I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.”

Seeming to float, the young queen moved to her desk where there rested a tray of food next to a pile of parchment that probably contained laws and other edicts. Her fingers tenderly brushed over the shape of the plate before straightening one of the papers, lingering meaningfully.

“Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least, The true Queen knows her people fed, before she sits to feast. The good Queen knows her people safe, before she takes her rest, Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before she makes request.”

Leaving the objects alone, she twisted towards the windows again. Papyrus closed the door as far as he was able and watched her cross the floor and fiddle with a latch to the doors leading out to a balcony he hadn’t noticed before.

“For they are all my children, all, that I swore to defend, It is my duty to become both Queen and trusted friend— And of my children high and low, from beggar to above, The dearest are my Heralds, who return my care with love.”

The queen strode out onto the balcony, moonlight highlighting her in silver. The tall skeleton carefully slipped through the door, watching her sing in a sort of trance. The young woman’s gaze was focused on the wall beyond the palace, where patrolled her own guards.

“The dearest are my Heralds, swift to spring to my command. Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand That land and people first have needs that I may not deny— So I must send my dearest friends to danger—and to die.”

Leaning against the balcony, the human stared at the ground below, melancholy in her tone.

“A friend, a love, a child—it matters not, I know indeed, That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need. They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require, With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.”

Papyrus crept to the doorway of the balcony, feeling an aching sympathy come into his Soul as the song became clearly more painful for the young woman to sing.

“These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the Queen can’t shed, The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Heralds dead.”

Tilting her head back, Queen Tabatha’s gaze landed on the low-hanging moon.

“Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my cry… And if you have compassion… Let me send no more to die!”

The song faded into the night and the brunette raised a single hand to her face in a weary manner. Papyrus took another step closer and she suddenly turned around, probably having heard him in the new silence. After a tense moment of each gazing at the other, the human straightened up into proper posture, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place.

“Guardsman,” she addressed him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“MY APOLOGIES FOR NOT ANNOUNCING MYSELF, YOUR MAJESTY,” the lanky skeleton replied with a bow. “IT’S JUST��I DID NOT WANT TO INTERRUPT YOUR TRULY LOVELY SINGING, EVEN IF IT WAS A BIT SAD.”

“Ah, so you heard it…” the young queen sighed. “I really shouldn’t be complaining about my station like that; it’s selfish—”

“BUT SURELY EVEN THE QUEEN SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO BE SELFISH SOMETIMES?” the young guardsman interrupted. “YOU ARE NOT PERFECT, AFTER ALL—NO ONE IS, NOT EVEN THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

It occurred to him two seconds too late that he probably shouldn’t have cut off the human ruler and that he ought not to have referred to himself by his made-up title. His cheekbones flushed orange at the same time as sweat began to break out along the top of his skull, but before he could apologize, the human let out a small laugh. Completely blindsided, Papyrus froze in place, not sure if her humor was a good or bad sign.

“My apologies; I shouldn’t laugh,” the brunette tried—and failed—to say without giggling. “It’s just…you made quite the face there…”

The laughter did not fade for another minute, the whole time the skeleton waited without breathing, eyes clamped shut, still worried that once she calmed she might reprimand him or…would she punish him? Isn’t that what humans did to those who broke the rules?

“Sir? Why are you flinching?”

“I…I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT PUNISH ME FOR INTERRUPTING YOU,” Papyrus admitted weakly.

“Punish you? Oh gods above, what did humans do to your people that would give rise to such horror stories? I’m not going to do something so drastic for something as simple as speaking over me. This isn’t court where everyone must wait their turn.”

The monster cracked open one eyesocket to peek at Queen Tabatha and saw she was frowning. Not an angry frown…it was a sad one.

“HAVE I…HAVE I UPSET YOU, YOUR HIGHNESS?”

“Hm? No; it’s an old worry,” she reassured him with a wave of her hand. “My race aren’t very considerate…not even to one another. It’s why there are so many human kingdoms and only one monster. But you have my word, guardsman, that I will not punish you unless you were to do something that endangered me or my subjects. I can’t expect you to adhere to human customs and laws without giving you time to adjust.”

“Y-YOU ARE VERY KIND, YOUR MAJESTY,” Papyrus stuttered out.

“Please, when we are in private you may call me Queen Tabatha. I’m not one for titles…which reminds me, what is your name, guardsman?”

“I AM PAPYRUS. JUST PAPYRUS.”

“Ah. What an honor it is to stand in the presence of the Great Papyrus.”

She was clearly teasing—she had a sly little smile on her face—but that didn’t stop the skeleton from blushing again, nervously playing with the edge of his scarf to distract himself from the embarrassed heat surging through his bones. The Queen laughed again and Papyrus decided he liked that sound: it was warm and meant good things.

“You were supposed to be here for a report, yes?” the young royal asked, bringing her hand up towards her mouth as she thumbed her painted lips. When she received a nod of affirmation, a thoughtful hum escaped her. “ I don’t feel much for an update right now. What do you say that we instead have a nice long conversation over tea instead?”

“YOU REALLY DON’T MIND?”

“Not at all. I could use a new friend. Someone whose willing to tell me exactly what’s what.”

“PLEASE, YOUR HIGHNESS, MY CHEEKBONES WILL BE STAINED ORANGE IF YOU CONTINUE LIKE THIS,” Papyrus groaned amidst the girlish giggles of the Queen who was far too proud of her own cleverness

#undertale #papyrus #fanfiction #fanfic post #fluff #au #medevial #ao3fic #papyrusxoc #hybridwrites

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tothelasthoursofmylife · 8 years ago

Text

Modern Day 4

And here’s the end of it! Hope you had fun with it.

Chapter Four: The Countess, Fearsome

“To make the deal complete, it was necessary to become someone else.”

London, England, United Kingdom ‒ January 2016

Originally, my plan had been to return to my lovely manor in the countryside after wrapping up the case with Ronan Parrish. But while I was having breakfast in my bed ‒ and watching The Descent Into Hell is Easy, it had gotten a bit too late yesterday –, my butler, Alfred Newman, came to me with a silver tray, carrying one single letter. Right after taking a glimpse at it, I knew that my stay in London would have to be expanded for an unknown amount of time.

I took the letter from Newman and read it, sighing that I had been right like always, and Her Majesty hadn’t just sent me an amicable letter. Was asking for a day off too much? But, of course, I couldn’t decline a request by the Queen. However, she had written that the completion of this case wasn’t very urgent, so I decided, after finishing breakfast that I would let it be for today at least and spend my time with something else.

“You are late,” Cloudia told him when he entered her private chambers through the balcony doors.

Last night, I had made a deal with an actual Grim Reaper. After we both had agreed to work together, the following conversation happened:

“We need a way to communicate,” I had said.

“I have two skull pendant necklaces which allow the wearers to communicate telepathically as long as they touch the pendant,” the Grim Reaper, Cedric Rossdale, had suggested with shining eyes. “I never got around to try them out ‒ this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get to use them.”

“Don’t Grim Reapers have mobile phones? I mean, you talked about googling people, so you have at least a computer.”

“We do have mobile phones ‒ we always get the latest smart phone models.”

“So why don’t we just exchange phone numbers? Or is the Grim Reaper telephone network wiretapped?”

“No, it’s not ‒ we live way too long to want to listen to boring and silly conversations 24/7. Would you like to be assigned to some kind of ‘Wiretap Division’ where you have to listen to Betty and Veronica’s ‘Did you see the latest Lagerfeld collection?’-or-‘Twilight is waaaay better than Hemingway’ -conversations for all eternity?”

“Hell, no.”

“See?”

“So we can just exchange phone numbers. Why don’t we do it then?”

“First of all, magical skull pendant necklaces are awesome.”

“You sound like a eight-year-old kid ‘Walkie-talkies are life,’” I interrupted him.

He ignored me. “Second,” he continued. “my mobile phone bill would get too high. Interdimensional calls cannot be cheap.”

In the end, he had given me a necklace with a skull pendant before Newman had finally arrived and we could dispose of Parrish’s corpse.

After carelessly throwing the Queen’s letter on my bedside table, I continued to watch the second episode of Shadowhunters.

In 2013, a movie adaption to the first book of Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments series had come out. It had been okay, but the critics had hated it, and the producers had made the terrible mistake to change important plot elements. For example, the whole brother-sister-drama had been spoiled and demons could enter the Institute. Therefore, the fans had not been very fond of the movie too. The already announced City of Ashes movie had been eventually dropped and a TV series covering City of Bones again had been created instead, in hope to be more successful with it.

The TV series turned out to be terrible though. There were a few good points ‒ Matthew Daddario and Harry Shum Jr. were adorable, Luke being a detective was awesome, some scenes were quite cool, for example the first few minutes of the first episode –, but the bad points, unfortunately, predominated: The drastic change in Maureen’s character, Katherine McNamara’s and Dominic Sherwood’s hair ‒ they needed an appointment at a hairdresser’s as soon as possible –, horrible special effects, whatever Isabelle did in the first episode and her white dress, Raphael, Valentine’s lair in Chernobyl, some actors’ performances...

At least, the show provided a few good laughs. I should show it to Cedric Rossdale someday.

I preferred reading classic literature ‒ nobody could ever dethrone Charles Dickens in my heart –, but two years ago, I had started to read more actual literature. Some Middle Grade books, some Young Adults books. Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunters Chronicles were one of my favourite YA books – I liked The Infernal Devices the most and could not await reading Lady Midnight which would come out in two months, or The Last Hours which would come out someday. 2018 or something.

After I had finished breakfast, watching Shadowhunters and reading the newest comments on my review, many book review, blog, I clutched my hand around the petite skull pendant and pressed, signalising the Reaper to come. Right afterwards, I got up, dressed myself in jeans and a flower blouse and went to the little library in my private chamber to wait for him there.

“I had work to do, Countess,” Cedric Rossdale, the Grim Reaper with the long grey hair, explained and closed the balcony doors which she had left open for him, even though it was cold and icy outside.

“Still, this is no excuse for being hours late,” she replied and blinked towards the big, heavy long case clock.

He covered his mouth with one of his overly-long sleeves and chuckled. “My, my, what a funny face you make, Countess. Even though I want to see this face more often, I promise to reap the souls of the dead faster.”

Cedric sat down on one of the large, heavy armchairs, covered in dark green velvet, in front of the chimney. Cloudia had assigned Newman to lit up a fire ‒ there were heaters in the room, but open fires had some charm during winter –, before she had opened the balcony doors, so she wouldn’t freeze to death while waiting for Cedric. She laid down the book in her hands ‒ The Battle of Life: A Love Story – and looked at him.

“I hope you are aware of the reason why I summoned you here?”

“I bet that it has something to do with our deal.”

“Exactly. A brain actually seems to be hiding inside that head of yours.” She leaned forward and smiled her mischievous smile. “If you want to take part in my investigations, in my life, you have to accompany me anywhere. However, because of my social status and the fact that I am of nobility, I can’t let you to be seen with me in public. Not like you are right now. So... ” Cloudia’s smile widened and she closed her eyes and tilted her head. “... today’s topic is to make you undergo a makeover and turn you into a fine British gentleman.”

“So I hope that Grim Reapers get at least basic education?”

After Cedric had agreed to do whatever she wished, Cloudia had started to gather some books from her various shelves. Most of her useful books were in the Phantomhive Manor and not in the townhouse, but the ones she had on site would do the work just fine.

“Before I became a Grim Reaper, I only went to school until I turned twelve,” Cedric told her after a while, and his words caused her to stop and turn around to face him.

“You were something else before becoming a Grim Reaper?”

He nodded and Cloudia frowned. He avoided looking directly at her. “Grim Reapers aren’t born. We all were humans like you before we became Reapers.”

“That’s interesting,” Cloudia said. “And how do humans become Grim Reapers?”

Cedric hesitated for only a blink of an eye, but she still noticed it. “They have to die first,” he answered her.

“Does that mean that every human becomes a Reaper after dying?”

He was strangely silent for a moment. “Only humans who died in a certain way.”

Even though, Cloudia wanted to know how exactly you had to die to become a Grim Reaper like Cedric, she knew that he didn’t like talking about this kind of subject. And because she didn’t want to displease him just now at this early stage of their cooperation, she let it be for the time being.

I would find out how Grim Reapers came into existence. I just needed to wait for the perfect moment to get this piece of information out of Cedric.

I couldn’t await it.

“After being reborn, I had to attend the ‘school’ in the Grim Reaper Dispatch for a while,” Cedric continued while looking directly into the fire in the chimney. “A lot of people who are reborn as Reapers cannot read because of their past, because they, for example, lived in great poverty as humans, so they have a special system to educate new Reapers. A Grim Reaper, who isn’t even able to read a Death Book, would be useless after all.”

“So you can read and write. What else have they taught you?” Cloudia questioned him further. It was fairly interesting to get to know more about the society of Grim Reapers.

“Maths. History. Geography. Foreign languages. Dead, ancient languages. Science. Actually everything human children learn at school.” Cedric suddenly chuckled and stopped being so serious and started being Cedric again.

“Come to think of it ‒ in the last five years in which I’ve followed you, I never saw you sitting in a class and learning with other children your age. Don’t you go to school, Countess? You’re just a kid after all.” He giggled. “Kids should be in school and not murdering people.”

Cloudia scowled at him and he looked up at her, the fire being reflected in his glasses.

“Male Phantomhives attend Weston College,” she informed him. “It’s a prestigious boarding school in the area around London which is only for boys. Female Phantomhives are sent to Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies. Even if I am the current family head, I cannot attend Weston College like my predecessors as I am a girl and not willing to play being a boy for seven years while going for puberty and sharing a room with other boys. Therefore I should actually go and study at Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies, but because it’s also a boarding school and too far away from here to go there and come back home every day, I cannot attend this school either. After all, my mother isn’t able to lead the household in her current condition, thus I cannot leave her and the manor alone. Therefore I am home-schooled. I briefly went to a grammar school last year for my GCSE though, and now I attend some classes from time to time because of my A Level.”

Laughing like a lunatic, Cedric fell down the armchair and onto Cloudia’s lovely Chinese carpet.

“Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! I can’t hold it! That’s too much! Hahaha!”

She sighed.

If he weren’t helpful in any way, I would have shot him by now and hung him over my chimney ‒ like Mr Crabs had threatened to SpongeBob and Patrick he would in this one episode of SpongeBob SquarePants, I would hang Cedric’s head and not his buttocks though –, before continuing to read The Battle of Life: A Love Story while drinking Fortnum & Mason tea. I had gotten it last week from this marvelous Fortnum & Mason shop close to Piccadilly Circus. Of course, on my way there from Piccadilly Circus I had stopped at Waterstones and Hatchards to get myself a couple of new books. These bookstores were just too wonderful not to stop for. Also, nothing was better than new books and new tea.

“Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! What a horrible name! Bwahahaha!”

Cloudia kicked Cedric and sent him flying towards the armchair’s heavy legs.

“Stop this nonsense,” she ordered him while looking down at him. He was lying all messily in his black suit which was slightly too large for him in front of her feet and blinking up at her. His glasses were inclined on his nose.

“My, my, Countess, don’t you think that the name of this school is nothing but hilarious? Miss Peregrine’s School for Fine Ladies! What a joke!”

Cedric continued rolling over the expensive carpet, and Cloudia was reminded why she had thought of him as a maniac upon their first meeting.

Actually, the name was really hilarious as it was utterly ridiculous. I couldn’t believe that the girls who were born into the Phantomhive family line had to attend a school with such a name. But, of course, even though it was honestly funny, we, I, didn’t have any time for that kind of stuff.

“Snitchey and Craggs had each, in private life as in professional existence, a partner of his own. Snitchey and Craggs were the best friends in the world, and had a real confidence in one another; but Mrs. Snitchey, by a dispensation not uncommon in the affairs of life, was on principle suspicious of Mr. Craggs; and Mrs. Craggs was on principle suspicious of Mr. Snitchey.”

Because Cedric was still laughing on the floor and seemingly didn’t intend to stop in the foreseeable future, Cloudia had decided to spend the time until he would calm down in the best possible way: with continuing to read The Battle of Life: A Love Story.

“‘Your Snitcheys indeed,’ the latter lady would observe, sometimes, to Mr. Craggs; using that imaginative plural as if in disparagement of an objectionable pair of pantaloons, or other articles not possessed of a singular number; ‘I don't see what you want with your Snitcheys, for my part. You trust a great deal too much to your Snitcheys, I think, and I hope you may never find my words come true.’ While Mrs. Snitchey would observe to Mr. Snitchey, of Craggs, ‘that if ever he was led away by man he was led away by that man, and that if ever she read a double purpose in a mortal eye, she read that purpose in Craggs’s eye.’”

She had just finished page 19 and started page 20. While waiting for Cedric to arrive, Cloudia had read and finished The Chimes, another novella by Charles Dickens, but this time from the year 1844; and because he had arrived when she had just read the very first sentence of The Battle of Life: A Love Story (“Once upon a time, it matters little when, and in stalwart England, it matters little where, a fierce battle was fought.”), she hadn’t arrived that far in the story. Also, even if she had resumed reading after Cedric just wouldn’t stop laughing, Cloudia didn’t get too far either as it was quite hard to read while someone was rolling on the floor and laughing like a psychologically unstable person ‒ and this directly in front of your own feet. Then, finally, Cedric calmed down.

“By the way, what are you reading, Countess?” he wanted to know and sat himself up.

“A Dickens novella,” Cloudia told him, put a bookmark, which her cousin Cathleen had made her when they were just little children, in-between the pages and laid the book down a side table made of dark wood.

“I hope we can finally resume our lesson? We lost plenty of time and have a lot of work to do.”

Of all the Grim Reapers I could have encountered, it had to be the one who would burst into laughter because of every tiny thing.

Of course this could have only happened to me. But because I had proposed the deal, I had to endure it.

Also, I was the Countess of Phantomhive – a laughing Grim Reaper should not drive me crazy even though he was annoying as hell.

“Letting you take a test would swallow up a lot of time, which we simply do not have, so we skip it and go directly to manners and etiquette.”

Cloudia signalised Cedric with a hand wave to sit down at her work table, while she put out some crockery and cutlery, which she had borrowed from the kitchen before Cedric’s arrival, and lined them up neatly on the table in front of him.

“It is quite impossible to avoid dinner or tea parties when you are my associate. Even if we are living in the 21st century and there is no such thing as a ‘Season’ anymore, some high society people and nobles still like to think there is,” Cloudia said. “Which means that you have to be aware and able to implement the rules and manners for meals. Or don’t Grim Reaper have to eat?”

“We have to,” Cedric informed her, eying the strange set-up suspiciously. “Grim Reapers have to eat, sleep, use bath rooms... We are basically like normal humans, only immortal and with enhanced speed, power and endurance. Which means that not even we can watch Netflix 24/7 without dying of starvation, dehydration or due to an explosion of our urinary bladder.”

Cloudia sighed. “Whatever. At least, you don’t have to learn how to pretend that you’re eating.” She picked up the spoon on the far right side and smiled brightly. “Let’s get started. Silverware is to be used from the outside in, but first of all, I want you to become familiar with the individual parts of the basic table set. This, for example, is a soup spoon...”

After teaching him the names of all different parts of the table set, how to use them properly and how to actually eat effectively with this knowledge, I continued to teach him the rules of picking up food and everything else Cedric needed to know about formal dining.

Then, I worked on his way of walking. He walked without any grace, and then his back wasn’t even straight. I piled the books I had taken from my shelves earlier on Cedric’s head, amused myself with his failure to keep them at place and subtly took a video of him when he wasn’t looking. It would definitely get a lot of clicks on YouTube, and thus it was brilliant blackmail material.

After he finally managed to walk properly ‒ unbelievable that he couldn’t even do that! – I let him sit down the armchair again as we now had to discuss other important aspects.

“Your clothes,” Cloudia started without making a friendly, appeasing introduction.

“What’s with my clothes?”

“Have you never realised that they are just too big for you? You’re basically a blade of grass where a towel was thrown onto. I hope you never thought, that you could accompany me to high society social events and gatherings with such monstrosities you call clothing.”

Cedric grinned cockily. “Then I will have to lie.”

“You are a rather painful creature, aren’t you, Cedric Rossdale?”

“You are a rather stern and serious being, aren’t you, Cloudia Phantomhive?” His grin widened. “I hope you know that I don’t have any other clothing which doesn’t look like the outfit I wear today.”

“Didn’t you wear that yesterday already?”

Cedric held his belly in laughter. “You’re so hilarious, Countess! Even though you seem to be a sadist with making me remember all these spoon names and letting me balance all these heavy books, I think I made the right choice in agreeing on your deal. You frequently give me a reason to laugh! Of course, I didn’t wear this robe yesterday! It possesses a totally different shade of black ‒ ‘A Totally Different Shade of Black’ would be a great book title if this James bimbo ever decides to get herself a swimming pool out of gold through publishing another ‘50-whatever terribly unsatisfied woman with a terrifyingly low IQ writes like a twelve year old kid who just got into puberty’-bullshit load – than the one I wore yesterday! That you don’t even know that, Countess! I’m disappointed! Guehehe.”

Cloudia sighed.

I was Cloudia Phantomhive, the Countess of Phantomhive. I. Would. Not. Turn. Mad. Because. Of. This. Laughing. Maniac.

What he had said about E.L. bimbo James was hilarious though.

“Very well. So you don’t have anything better to wear,” Cloudia said while Cedric whipped away some tears of laughter.

“I hope you don’t suggest to take me shopping. I’m not very fond of shopping.”

“Never heard of online shopping? We go through a few websites ‒ Amazon, Zalando and stuff – and get you ‒ and me – some clothes in a couple of minutes without having to leave the townhouse. It will take a while to arrive though, so we have to find you something else in the meantime.”

Cedric sighed. “Why do I even have to get new clothes? Humans are also running around in suits.”

“But not in suits who are too large for them and not all the time. You simply cannot wear a suit for every occasion. Especially not just black ones. Or do you want to tell everyone you’re a witch from Hooky, a member of the Men in Black or MI5?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re aware that I can break our deal every time, Countess.”

Cloudia leaned forward to him, a wicked smile all over her face. “You agreed on the deal, knowing very clearly who I am. You followed me in the past five years, therefore you’re aware of my social position. I am not an ordinary citizen. I am the Watchdog of the Queen. I am a Countess. I am of nobility, and I am rich ‒ I own a very large porcelain company, goddammit. And nobles and rich people are very, very fond of social gatherings. Because I am also part of the high society, I am obligated to attend some of these gatherings, although I’m not very pleased about it.

“Our deal contained you accompanying me during my investigations. And if my investigation leads me to such a gathering, you have to bring a certain degree of decency, manners and grace along. Also, I cannot walk around the streets with a man who wears sack-like clothes and doesn’t even know the basics of the fine etiquette, and therefore, I cannot investigate with someone like that by my side. It would damage my reputation. It would ruin the facade I worked so hard to build up over the past years. It would hinder my investigations.

“This deal is a deal to help the other ‏‒ not to ruin them! You knew absolutely well what would await you if you took the deal ‒ and you still did it. So just stick to the conditions of our bargain.”

Her smile grew wider.

“Also ‒ I don’t know why you agreed on my deal as you’re a supernatural creature after all. But I know that you certainly have a reason. And whatever this reason was and still is, it has to be something so big, so important to you that you simply will not end our bargain right now. After all, this reason let you make a deal with me ‒ a mere human, the head of the Phantomhives.

“So, if you want, if you dare, to threat me again, please do so in a way which builds up on a less obvious lie. If you truly want to work with me, you have to become more sneaky.

“And now ‒ let’s continue, Grim Reaper.”

“I know that you dress up like a man on occasions ‒ but why exactly do you possess clothes for males, which are too big for you?”

I had given Cedric an outfit of mine I thought he could fit into. It wasn’t the newest piece of cloth, but I had only worn it once, so it was still in a formidable state, and due to its fine fabrication and colour scheme absolutely acceptable to wear at all times.

And, naturally, I had been right: Cedric fit perfectly into the clothes as if they had been tailored just for him.

“It’s an old story,” Cloudia answered and watched Cedric how he looked at himself in the mirror as he was looking at someone entirely different.

“One year ago, I received a request from the Queen to investigate a certain person. After I found out that he was illegally creating crystal meth in his basement, I had to eliminate him and his supporters. It wasn’t a difficult thing to do. Just before I eliminated the last of them, he managed to grab my phone and destroy it ‒ only to be shot in the face the moment afterwards. Newman was waiting for my call but without a mobile and money for a telephone cell, I could not call him. And these stupid junkies didn’t even have a phone and I really did not feel like searching for their mobiles on them, so I decided to go to Newman’s waiting point. My clothes were dirty and partially covered in blood though, so it was quite hard for me to walk around without anyone noticing it. At least it had already been dark outside and I wasn’t in the center of London. However, it was November and without a proper coat ‒ I left mine in the junkies’ basement as it was too soaked in blood –, I could have frozen to death.

“Fortunately, I came across a little tailoring. I broke into the shop, and changed into some dry clothes. But because I was in a hurry ‒ nobody should catch me after all; also I had to go to Newman as fast as I could or someone could have gone into the basement and found the corpses and the meth and run away with it or something like that –, I just took clothes which fit together and didn’t check their sizes. I disposed my own attire and went to see Newman, so he could drive me to Scotland Yard.”

Cedric chuckled. “My, my, you gave me a stolen outfit!”

“But it fits you, and you do not look particularly horrible in it, so you can use it until we have time to get you some more clothes. You need a lot of attire, if you’re with me. Also, I left money in the tailor’s shop for the clothes.”

Cloudia rose from her emerald-green armchair and walked towards Cedric. She touched his hair. “We need to comb it. Have you ever thought about cutting it shorter?” She chuckled. “You could be mistaken for a hippie after all.”

If she let her black hair, which was usually in a braid or a high ponytail, fall loose, it would be around as long as his.

He firmly shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I like it as it is right now.”

She nodded. “Then you have to comb it neatly, and arrange it into a ponytail with a ribbon which you tie into a bow. You will look more classy like that. It’s also good that you have black glasses with a thin frame. They will harmonise nicely with all colours, so we don’t have to worry about that.

“Now, please sit down again. Before Newman comes and tells me that dinner is ready, we have to discuss a few other things.”

They sat down in front of the chimney again. The fire inside was still dancing and trying to escape from its prison made of stone. It had shrunken a while ago, but Cedric had lit it up again, so the fire could continue its struggle.

“We need a new name for you,” Cloudia said straightforward. “A new identity. If you have already lived once under the name of Cedric Rossdale, you could be tracked by my enemies and some nasty people who become suspicious of you. It would cause too much trouble if anybody found out that you actually died once. Also, if you take upon a new identity, it’s easier for you to get accepted into the high society. We could come up with a fake title, a fake background and lineage for you, and say that you come from far away and didn’t inherit the title or wealth until a while ago. They will believe that, and if they try to track you down under this false name, they will only find the lies we have positioned in front of their feet. Like that we wouldn’t have to rewrite the history of Cedric Rossdale, but to create someone entirely new. And this would certainly be easier.

“Don’t you agree, my dear Undertaker?”

Cedric frowned. “‘Undertaker’?”

She shrugged. “Aren’t you one?”

“I’m a Grim Reaper, Countess. I’m not an Undertaker at all.”

“But don’t you think that Grim Reapers and undertakers are quite similar? The work of both starts when someone dies after all. And both hold the responsibility to bring a living being to a rightful and peaceful rest. Another similarity is the fact that both get to work because of me. Also, I think the nickname ‘Undertaker’ suits you quite well, doesn’t it?”

Cedric leaned back. In his new attire ‒ the dark trousers, the polished black shoes, the starched white shirt and the dark blue waistcoat – he actually looked good. Like a grey- and long-haired version of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Finally, Cloudia was able to see his figure which was so, so thin and fragile-looking. But because he had been able to lift a huge scythe and she hadn’t been able to free herself from his grip yesterday, and because he had told her that Reapers were physically stronger than humans, his outer appearance was nothing more than deceptive. And you had to be deceptive to survive the life of a Phantomhive.

“So – how should we name you? What title should we grant you, Undertaker?”

I didn’t like calling him “Grim Reaper” at all. But if he just called me “Countess,” I guess “Undertaker” should work just fine for him. Also, I liked the sound of it. Undertaker. It was a much nicer word than “mortician,” even though “Mort” ‒ like the mortician from UndeadEd! – would have made a good nickname too.

Cloudia tilted her head, an idea appearing in her mind. “What’s your middle name, by the way? I know it starts with a ‘K,’ but I don’t know the full name.”

“It’s ‘Kristopher,’” Cedric told her and she smiled.

“Then we have a first name for you, Kristopher...” She thought for a moment. “... Underwood.”

He frowned. “‘Underwood’?”

“It’s the most similar name I could think of to ‘Undertaker,’ and I think that both names fit perfectly together. Kristopher Underwood. It’s sounding like the name of someone important, but it’s not too extravagant simultaneously. It’s perfect, don’t you think, Undertaker?”

Cedric gazed at Cloudia and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I guess it works,” he said after a while. Then, he started to giggle.

“You’re someone who has to plan everything frantically in detail, aren’t you, Countess? Manners, clothes, name. You’re just hilarious.” More giggling.

Cloudia ignored his remark. “Fantastic. And now, a title! What title of nobility do you want to have? You don’t necessarily need a title as we could make your alter ego just ridiculously rich, but it’s much nicer that way.”

“Viscount Kristopher Underwood,” Cedric tried. “Marquess Kristopher Underwood. Baron Kristopher Underwood. Hm...” He giggled and covered his mouth while doing so. However, this time, he couldn’t do it with his sleeve and had to use his hand.

“Duke Kristopher Underwood sounds quite good.”

Probably, he just wanted to suit a noble rank above mine.

“Very well,” Cloudia said. “This is settled then too. I will work on the rest.” She stood up and went to her desk. She opened one of the drawers and took out the letter from this morning. The red wax signet was already broken. Cloudia handed the letter over to Cedric who took it with a raised eyebrow.

“The last topic for today: Queen Elizabeth gave us our first assignment as a team today. We will start investigating tomorrow, so please, do not be late.”

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #cloudia phantomhive #UndertakerxClaudia #claudia phantomhive #undertaker #fanfiction #cedric k. ros

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