#he’s just been dealt the short end of the stick at literally every moment since birth

[bibleofficial]

just spent 4hrs w this dealer that i was only supposed to pick up from for like 2 sec 😭😭😭

[agent-cupcake]

Garreg Mach Café 

Episode One: Dead Eye (Dimitri x Reader)

Yes this is a coffee shop AU and yes I intend to do a few of these because I am basic and this is fun to work on while violently procrastinating and yes I’m a little sorry. Just a little.

//

From the moment you keyed your employee code into the machine and clocked in until your shoes met the cracked pavement covering the parking lot out back, the hours you spent selling coffee and faking smiles were slotted into a strange fugue state in your mind. Existence in only the most technical sense.

Morning shifts were the worst for that sense of customer service depersonalization. After the initial rush, which you usually got through with the crutch of obscene amounts of caffeine and focus, weekdays always fell away into an exhausting kind of lull. You might as well have been living in a private world where only you, the radio with a station you weren’t allowed to change, and a minifridge of overpriced mineral waters that needed restocking existed. Which was pretty fine, all things considered. The downtime was nice.

Until you were disturbed by the swooshing sound of the opening door, a rush of cold outside air, and the distinctively familiar jingle of bells. At this point, you were pretty sure that perky tinkling sound activated some sort of twisted fight or flight mechanism deep in your gut. Despite that, you stood up straight from organizing the display and put on your best service smile, sidling up to the register. Just in time to have the air knocked right out of your lungs.

Well, not literally. You were pretty sure that cliché was a line used in books to convey the inherent frailty of the female condition. There was no such romanticism to your reaction. It would have been more accurate to say that your caffeine-hyped brain shorted out when you got a good look at the customer who had just come in because you were simple and weak and that amount of handsome on your abysmal amount of sleep made you forgot how to breathe for a moment or twenty.  

The most obvious and immediately striking aspect of the man was the eyepatch. Not some basic pastel goth kind of white bandage attached with ribbons, but a properly utilitarian black piece that cut harsh lines of black across his pretty blond hair. Had you ever seen somebody in real life wearing one? Your spastic thoughts lingered on that for a second before deciding it didn’t really matter. It was barely even a factor in your undoubtedly impolite staring. You dealt with exhausted people from every demographic while selling, making, and serving coffee. Snappy, loopy, mean, giggly, you knew sleep deprivation in nearly every form and function. Never did you realize in full that it also came in its premium form: devastatingly handsome.

He was gorgeous. Like, drop-dead level gorgeous. So, yeah, maybe it wasn’t too corny for you to say that this tall blond with a sharp jaw, nice cheekbones, and broad shoulders covered in a dark blazer/blue sweater combo of expensive if understated business casual took your breath away. You were, after all, occasionally subject to the frailty of the female condition.

Be professional! Your sane mind —or at least the part that wasn’t dominated by the giddy mix of shy nerves and creepy admiration— urged.

Right. Professional.

“Good morning!” you greeted him with belated cheerfulness, managing to pull your jaw up from the floor before he stopped in front of the counter. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a moment?” He didn’t respond at first, which almost made your smile falter. His eye, ringed in the telltale shadow of a sleepless night, was blue. Really, ultra blue. You forced yourself to keep up the act, to stick to the script. “If this is your first time here, I could walk you through the menu.”

The man cleared his throat, shaking his head a little as he glanced —awkwardly, like he wasn’t actually looking but he needed a reason to avert his gaze— up to the menu. He’d gathered about half of his longish hair into a tail in the back, but the shorter strands framing his face fluttered with the movement. Did you have a thing for guys with long hair? You couldn’t remember, but you were pretty sure you did now. “No… Thank you,” he replied somewhat apologetically. His voice was low, holding this kind of rough, husky tone. In other words, it was nearly enough to send you right back out of your customer service mode and into a swooning catastrophe. “Could you make a dead eye?”

The request was made, accepted, and then it registered. And, really, you liked to think you were a good person. You really, really did.

“A dead… eye…” you repeated slowly, internally screaming at yourself to not stare at the glaring black eyepatch covering his right eye or crack a smile at the horrible joke. Good Lord. You didn’t like to think that you were a bad person, or a mean person. You were a professional, you’d dealt with a lot while keeping a straight face. So you cleared your throat. “A black coffee with a triple espresso shot, right. Is that to go?”

“Yes,” he agreed with a sharp nod, ready with cash and very obviously not realizing the dark humor of what he’d ordered or the reason you were trying very, very hard not to make this all very, horribly awkward. No, he looked exhausted. And attractive. You were a very bad person. So you told him the total and broke the twenty and quickly turned to make the drink because a good cup of coffee was just about the only way you could apologize for your wicked, terrible thoughts.  

Since there were no other customers queuing up, he was fine to wait at the counter, watching you make the drink. You pretended like you couldn’t feel his intense gaze, bobbing your head to the piped-in indie music playing in the background. The song was awful, truly, you really didn’t think there was anything you wanted to hear less than some young nobody with a guitar butchering the English language in an ode to their unrequited love. At the very least, not at ten-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. At least you didn’t mess up, so there was something to be said for your so-called professionalism.

“Here you go,” you said as you handed him the to-go cup with as wide of a smile as you could muster all the while working very, very hard not to think that it was a dead eye for a dead eye. You were going to hell.

Ignorant to your thoughts, he met your gaze intently —his iris wasn’t any sort of bright, intimidating electric blue, but something softer like cornflower or powder or the dreamy gentle pale afternoon sky—  and accepted the cup with a black gloved hand. “You have my most sincere thanks.”

You heard yourself laugh a little in response, but it was a bright and overly jittery sound, not only because you were trying desperately to be polite but because you couldn’t help but feel a bubble of strangely excitable disbelief that he would be so serious about something that was so mundane. Not to mention the fact that he was so handsome or that his voice was as candid as his words implied and gruff in a way you really liked. At the very least, it drove out all intrusively poor taste jokes.

“Oh, it was nothing,” you said, the words coming from your lips without so much as a thought that it was definitely not apart of the preapproved corporate script. “Wait ‘till you see what I can do with the mixed drinks.”

He considered you for what felt like ages before finally nodding. “I will look forward to it.” Despite the lack of irony, there wasn’t even a hint of a smile playing on his lips to match your own. Just more of that discomforting, intense sincerity that you couldn’t tell if you liked or not. And that was basically the end of that because you had no idea what to say other than to wish him a good day. He left, your handsome strange customer, the bells jingling merrily behind him.

After the door closed to the temperamental winter air, you melted, bracing your arms on the counter as you felt jittery nerves work through you. It took a moment to collect yourself, but when you did, you realized that he’d left a great tip, too. Fantastic tip, actually. Which, ultimately, was what got you. There was something uniquely sexy about rich guys who were kind to the underpaid and overworked wait staff. 

That comforting customer service fugue state didn’t return after that. You were too caught up wondering about his name, or why he was so tired that he’d need such a potent drink, or if you were to take his words to mean that he was coming back. You probably shouldn’t have hoped for that as much as you did, but you could blame it on the inherent frailty of the female condition.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 6

What I learned from this scene: Jiang Cheng is really picky about women and Wei Wuxian is perfectly happy being without a woman (as long as he has alcohol), and THAT parallels what Lan Wangji says later on that he’s fine being alone too. A little thing, but it shows that while Wei Wuxian talks big about all the cute women in Yunmeng, he has zero experience and isn’t really even interested in them. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, IS interested, but is terrible at talking to them.

Call me crazy, but I don’t actually think Lan Wangji walked in there just to punish them for making noise/disturbing others. By the way this scene is acted, it seems like Lan Wangji is genuinely curious about what they’re up to, to the point where it almost feels like he wants to join in. Like he’s really taken what Lan Xichen has said about making friends to heart. And that all is super cute to me if that’s true. Like he hears the noises coming from their room (maybe he was already going there to see Wei Wuxian anyway!) and thinks, “Sounds like they’re having fun! Maybe I can join.” I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility for him to think that way, albeit probably hesitantly. And it’s not like he walks in with a dour expression, ready to throw the Gusu Lan Sect rules in their faces. It’s not until he sees the alcohol/Wei Wuxian asks him to drink with them that he pulls the rules card out.

Lol his look here. DON’T. TOUCH. ME. The phrase “if looks could kill” was made for people like Lan Wangji. He has nailed that glare. But like, how ballsy is Wei Wuxian to suggest drinking? He KNOWS Lan Wangji will not willingly break the rules, and if he doesn’t know, then he’s a dummy!

I love how quickly this whole thing unravels for Wei Wuxian. He thinks it’s so funny at first—stick Lan Wangji with a talisman, get him to do what you say—only he has no idea that Lan Wangji has absolutely zero tolerance for alcohol and his response is to immediately pass out. The sheer panic in Wei Wuxian’s face and voice is delightful to watch, honestly.

I’ve watched this scene so many times in the last week or so. I like it better in the special edition, since we get more wangxian and more drunk Lan Wangji—two things that I will always take more of. The part I like is that it shows how much Wei Wuxian commits and takes responsibility for his actions. He gets Lan Wangji drunk, so he spends half the night making sure Lan Wangji is okay. It’s a very sweet scene: the two open up to each other about their parents and it’s a very unifying moment for Wei Wuxian, finding out that Lan Wangji has suffered, just like him—that he is a human being with emotions, parents, that he’s experienced loss too. Wei Wuxian, up to this point, has dealt with his troubled past by clowning around and being generally optimistic, which is obviously not how Lan Wangji has handled his own past.

Lan Wangji probably remembers nothing of their conversation (or very little) but Wei Wuxian, who can hold his liquor a lot better, remembers all of it. It’s still fun watching them grow together, even after watching this so many times. Every time they experience something together, it just brings them closer. Really calls to mind themes of fate and destiny, though I like to believe that fate had nothing to do with them falling in love.

And here’s where Lan Wangji says he’s fine being alone, to which Wei Wuxian basically goes, “EH?!” in his mind, but instead calls him and his father boring. And then things get a little heavy, since Lan Wangji fully admits that he has no mother (in other words, his mother is dead). I assume (and Lan Xichen says later) that Lan Wangji would never have divulged this information while sober and it’s interesting that Wei Wuxian never lets on that he knows. It’s kind of a shame, really, that they never talk about it again. He only talks about it with Lan Xichen, but it would have been nice to see the two of them really talk about their parents.

In my mind, they slept in the same bed. Like, not that they did anything, because let’s be honest: they passed out. In my movie, Lan Wangji would have passed out again, and then Wei Wuxian would have put him in bed, and then passed out right next to him. It’s sort of strange that Wei Wuxian dragged himself across the room to sleep upright on the floor. He doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that, and why should he care if they share a bed? Especially given the fact that he’s also drunk.

It’s also super cute how Wei Wuxian is only like half-dressed (I say half, but it’s more like three quarters): his overdress is not pulled all the way on. His shock, then laughter here kind of indicates that he doesn’t remember much from the previous night, or maybe he forgot, and then remembered. The amusement is short-lived, though, since as soon as Lan Wangji wakes, up, he flips the fuck out and drags them all to get punished. I kind of wish we’d gotten to see that, although I do love the way they wove in the conversation between Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen.

His fucking face. He goes from, “Ah, Wei Wuxian, that rascal!” to “Wangji, WTF?!” I love that so much. And the thing that makes it funnier is that Xichen was the one to suggest that Wei Wuxian might be a good friend for his brother, and now it kind of ends up biting him in the ass, since he’s KIND OF a bad influence. Obviously, the next scene shows that this hasn’t really had a negative effect on Lan Wangji, since he is willing to accept punishment for something he had absolutely no control over, even when Wei Wuxian chastises him for doing so, and announces to Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that, in fact, Lan Wangji was forced to drink the alcohol.

Which brings me to the punishment scene. I like this scene a lot too. I love Lan Wangji’s tenacity here, how he refuses to try and get out of the punishment even though he drank the alcohol against his will. I love how Wei Wuxian immediately comes to his defense to try and get Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen to stop the punishment for Lan Wangji. This is a good contrast to earlier scenes when Wei Wuxian would not admit to breaking the rules and was always trying to make an excuse for himself. Here he doesn’t do that at all. He fully admits to breaking the rules and to dragging Lan Wangji down with him. I know Lan Wangji is upset here, but I think he’s mostly upset with himself for allowing himself to break the rules (even though he really had no choice in the matter).

Another great Yunmeng siblings scene. Wei Wuxian complaining about being punished and Jiang Yanli just keeping it real: you shouldn’t have broken the rules. She’s such a good big sister, though, because while her speech has a touch of disapproval, she’s still very sympathetic to their injuries. I do feel like she’s a little harder on Jiang Cheng, because she knows he’s better than that and he has to be better than that if he’s going to be a clan leader someday. As usual, she’s softer with Wei Wuxian, who she just has an abundance of sympathy for. And I don’t see that as a bad quality at all—I think she and her father are willing to see past some of his behavior because overall he’s well-intentioned and, as is discussed later on, he’s not going to be clan leader. His job will be to support Jiang Cheng, not to run the place, and he’s a fierce friend and extremely loyal to the Jiang Clan.

But anyway, this scene is cute how both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng tell Jiang Yanli that they need more protein to heal and she should really add some lamb to the soup.

A few minutes ago, he could barely walk, and now he’s literally running down these steps. Maybe you don’t need that cold spring, after all.

RIP that other shoe that he originally kicked off right into the spring.

I love all of Lan Wangji’s expressions here and his responses to Wei Wuxian’s advances (I can only call them that, because he’s such a flirt here). You can totally read this scene that Wei Wuxian is just teasing and taking the piss with Lan Wangji, but I’m not going to, and I’m assuming, if you’re reading this, you aren’t either.

Wei Wuxian was delighted when he saw that Lan Wangji was also at the cold spring. He clearly went there for his wounds, but I think the wounds are all but completely forgotten as soon as he sees Lan Wangji.

I also love how shy Lan Wangji is, that as soon as he hears him coming, he immediately dresses again. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t want to be seen without his clothes on. That’s incredibly endearing to me that he is so modest. And then you have Wei Wuxian, who threatens to take off his clothes several times (although this is the only time he does it for reasons outside of teasing Lan Wangji). He does not care—he’s seemingly not modest about his appearance at all. I really do love all the contrast between these two characters—it’s not that they’re opposites of each other—it’s not that simple—but there is a lot of contrast which I think just keeps things interesting. I have nothing profound to say about it (or anything else, really), but I just find it really enjoyable to watch. And a side note, the contrast between Lan Wangji and Wang Yibo constantly leaves me in awe; it’s hard to believe that Yibo pulled off this character so well because he was such a goof on set.

Wwx: A lot of benefits come with being my friend.

Wwx: [immediately starts undressing]

I see what you did there, writers/directors.

But ironically, it turns out that a lot of not-so-beneficial things come from being his friend. Because Lan Wangji becomes so devoted to him, he ends up getting in a lot of trouble within his clan and without. Obviously he’d do it over and over if he had the choice, but the fact remains that Wei Wuxian becomes a pariah and, to a lesser extent, Lan Wangji was headed that way as well. Really, if Wei Wuxian hadn’t died, Lan Wangji might have ended up living with him in Yiling. That would have been quite interesting, actually.

I don’t care how many times I’ve seen this episode—this scene will kill me with its cuteness. Wei Wuxian so wants to be Lan Wangji’s friend here! He’s adorable! “Don’t leave me alone!” and “Come to Yunmeng, and I’ll pick lotus seeds for you!” and “There’s cute girls at Yunmeng!” Oh, wait, Lan Wangji doesn’t care about cute girls haha. I just love the change in the relationship. Wei Wuxian approves of and respects Lan Wangji and wants to be closer to him. It’s not just an interest or a fascination now—it’s something deeper. It’s the shared experience at Biling Lake, it’s the drunken confessions about their parents, it’s the 300 hits of the bastinado, and the secret cold spring pond where they can heal together.

Note how long it takes Lan Wangji to actually try to leave here. That’s telling enough on its own, how long Lan Wangji tolerates Wei Wuxian. He’s willing to put up with the jabbering and the endless chattering from Wei Wuxian. This is so much progress!

I have absolutely nothing to say here, other than that Yibo looks so fucking hot in this scene.

Because other than him and of course the headband, I find the stuff with Lan Yi to be kind of boring. I like her and all, but it’s just like, meh on all this Yin Iron stuff. I read about how this is just a big trope in cdrama, so it is what it is. Personally, I found the book to be compelling without all these shenanigans, but I understand that the written word doesn’t always translate well to the screen (especially when you are censoring the relationship between the two main characters).

Oh, and the rabbits are also fucking adorable. The more rabbits, the better.

Aaand now you’re married. Thanks, bye. Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

[zims-left-shoe]

Hello, I had a really cute idea for a request if you dont mind. Since it's been lockdown and stuff could I get a Zim x S/o where they're finally able to see eachother after isolation. Bonus for fluff if that's ok with you?

This request??? Amazing. Absolute perfection. And of course there’s going to be fluff!! Chaotic and feral Zim is great, but I love me some soft Zim.

Oh, and there’s no specific age here. Could be high school, could be adults, I’ll leave that up to the reader.

Blinking furiously, your eyes eventually settled on a squint as your phone cast painfully bright light into your face. The surrounding comfort of darkness was fended off by the harsh screen you continued to stare at. Nothing had changed in the past hour, nothing new was written. You weren't sure what you were hoping for. 

A simple 'FINE' within a chat bubble marked the end of your conversation. Normally, you would snicker to yourself about how he flat out refused to write in lowercase, but the anxiety gnawing at your stomach prevented you from doing so. 

Sighing, you rolled onto your side, hanging half off the bed in order to plug your phone in for the night. After that was accomplished, you flopped onto your back, staring into the black abyss that was your bedroom ceiling.

Quarantine had been a lot more difficult than you had originally thought. At first it was fun, you could be as much of an introvert as you wanted and could take care of your responsibilities on your own time and schedule, for the most part anyway. But once the weeks turned into months, and those months began to increase exponentially, it became a problem. Going just a bit stir crazy was bad enough, but the worst part was being unable to see Zim.

Again, at first, you didn't think it would be such a bad thing. He tended to get a bit clingy and possessive, so you thought a little me time would do you some good. But as time stretched onward, you realized that you missed the little roach bastard more than you had anticipated. 

Of course you couldn't see him, considering not only the high human-to-human spread, but neither of you were quite sure to the extent Irkens would be affected, if it would be much more dangerous for Zim than an average human. As if that factor wasn't bad enough, Zim was already a huge germaphobe, so he rejected the idea of even socially-distanced hangouts with masks and all that.

So, being responsible and considerate, you had agreed to stick to text communication. It was fine at first, and you both talked regularly. Until about a month ago. Your worries began at the occurrence of two solid weeks of radio silence. Assuming the best, you waved it off as maybe he went to space and therefore couldn't get Earth cell reception. Finally, he had contacted you again, but brushed off any questions regarding the period of being off the grid. However, any response he gave you was short and simple, often a yes or no without elaboration, even to prompts where those answers weren't even valid. 

This is where the unease began. Your mind began to run rampant with thoughts on the matter. What if he had gotten tired of you? The reasonable person inside of you told you that if that was indeed the case, then his loss, but that didn't mean you had to be happy about it. Just when you would convince yourself everything was fine, you managed to come back with something else, always a variation of the last negative thought. What if he had realized that he liked being alone, that he missed being a lone wolf soldier focused on destroying the world with no one to care about? You could never fully refute that one. After all, was a genetically modified alien soldier truly content being tied down by something such as a relationship?

The only thing that brought you any solace was that he had reached out to you that morning, requesting your presence at his base. Things had gotten better, allowing for the two of you to meet with contact, person to person. Well, person to Irken. Of course, your brain wouldn't let you enjoy that. It just had to spin some tale that would send you into a spiral of dread. Now, as you laid in your bed, sheets bunched in your fists, you were convinced that he wished to break up with you. Well, at least he had the decency to do so in person, if that even was the case.

You wanted nothing more than to be overjoyed that you would finally be able to see him after all this time. You had become quite attached to Zim, more than you ever would like to admit. You should be filled with excitement. However, you felt nothing but a sinking feeling that made your skin crawl. 

"Just...please let me have a good night's sleep, would you?" You pleaded with your mind, shifting onto your side to face your wall, letting your eyes shut tight.

(more under the cut)

-

Unfortunately, you and your brain have two very different ways of defining 'a good night's sleep'. Trudging into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, you couldn't hold back the massive yawn. Stretching, about ten different joints popped as you remembered tossing and turning for a majority of the night. The worst part was the two or so hour period of staring blankly at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas of nothing at all. 

Staring at your reflection in the mirror revealed you to be looking like hell...and not on wheels. More like hell discarded on the side of the road next to an empty shopping bag. Dark circles rested under your eyes, which weren't only from the previous night. Your sleep schedule had been almost non-existent thanks to quarantine, some nights you wouldn't surrender to slumber until three in the morning, and other days you would succumb to sleep's tantalizing claws at four pm. 

Not to mention that you could barely remember the last time you had worn anything but pajamas or sweats. Groaning, you pulled on presentable clothes, as if this was the largest inconvenience you could ever be faced with. Not that Zim would care, but you didn't want to be shown up in the outfit department by a being from beyond who wore the same saturated pink military uniform every day. 

You didn't even bother to glance at the time, it wouldn't matter. Either way, Zim would most likely chide you for being late, even if you were an hour early. You weren't sure if the construct of time even existed in the reality that was Zim's mind. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't say for certain if you had even set a specific time arrangement. All you had agreed upon was to be there some time in the morning.

It didn't matter regardless, he would be there whenever you decided to show up. He hadn't left his base once for the duration of quarantine. Zim had patience when it came to being cooped up for long periods of time, you would give him that much. It was about the only time he had patience, but it counted nonetheless. 

That negative feeling wouldn't cease tugging at you as you meandered your way to Zim's base, quite literally dragging your feet down the sidewalk. Occasionally, you would come across a stray stone or pinecone, and you'd strike out with a half-hearted kick, watching it skitter across the pavement.

The entire walk was forgettable, and you had made the trek enough times for your brain to transition into autopilot until you made it to the fence line. The first few times you went to his place were unsettling. Now, you were completely unfazed as the security gnomes eyed you when you padded up the sidewalk, approaching the door. Their beady laser eyes tracked your every breath, but by this point you were unbothered. Besides, you were fairly sure that Zim had put you on the white list, so they shouldn't shoot at you unless it was a direct order.

You pressed the doorbell, folding your hands neatly in front of you as you waited for Zim to answer, scrambling to get a heartfelt speech together in your head. Whatever string of words you had managed to stitch together was thrown out the window when the door swung open, revealing a very animated GIR decked out in his doggy disguise. He frantically waved a black 'paw' to you, a grin splitting his face.

"Hi, Sparky!!" He hollered in your face, greeting you with a name that wasn't yours, per usual. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he began talking again, in very much an outside voice. A chip right off the old Irken block. "Didja bring the pizza?!" The little robot inspected your arms curiously, stepping around you to make sure you weren't hiding the greasy pie behind your back. 

"I, uh, wasn't aware I was supposed to be bringing pizza." You knew this was just an instance of GIR being GIR, but you went along with it anyway. He couldn't help himself, it was just the way he was wired. Or, maybe it was the fact that his brains consisted of useless pocket junk. It didn't really matter. GIR moved back to stand obediently in the doorway, you peering around the frame to see if Zim was anywhere to be found. He wasn't, which only made the nerves worse. Despite your worry, you kept your voice even and neutral. "May I come in?"

"Mhm!" He hummed, jumping aside to let you in. You closed the door behind you, standing around awkwardly for a moment before turning back to GIR, who was already shimmying out of his doggy suit.

"Do you know where Zim is?" Something seemed to click with GIR, however, it was not something that would answer your question. The poor robot burst into tears, which also wasn't out of the ordinary, falling face first into the floor and pounding his metal claw on the tile.

"That boy missed you so much!! He so sad, he even cried!! He loves youuu...!" He wailed, loud enough to draw Minimoose into the room who offered a soft and sad 'Nyah', seemingly agreeing with the statement. You couldn't confirm, since only Zim and GIR were fluent in the language you lovingly called 'Moosinese'. Tears continued to stream down the robot's metal face as he screamed, Minimoose resting a comforting purple nub on his back.

"Is that true?" Your response was calm, having dealt with GIR's outbursts many a time. You couldn't attest to the accuracy of his words, considering correct information was almost similar to a Russian roulette wheel when it came to GIR. 

And as if nothing had ever happened, the robot immediately perked up, popping up to his feet with a smile, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Yep!! Master's been down in the base the whole time!! Just sittin' there all shmoopy-like!" A giggle followed, pushing his previous bout of sadness into the past.

"Nyah!" Minimoose showed you a bucktooth grin as he looked to you purposefully. 

"Really? Fascinating." Again, you couldn't speak Moosinese, but still, you nodded. The purple moose appeared to be satisfied with your response, floating off to who knows where.

"You wanna come play with the piggy with me?!" GIR bounced up and down, eager to drag you off to roll around on the floor and have a tea party with whatever pig he had brought home this week. 

"Maybe some other time, GIR." You weren't opposed to spending time with the little robot, but he wasn't exactly who you were here to see. He didn't seem offended, all he did was shrug his metal shoulders.

"Okie dokie!" He brought his claw up to his forehead in a salute, turning away from you and making a mad dash to the kitchen. You heard a noisy metallic clang echo from the kitchen, and you didn't need to witness the event to visualize GIR smacking face-first into the cabinet.

"Careful, GIR! My milk squid experiment is in there!" A familiar voice rang out from the kitchen, and two immediate questions sprung to mind. The first was why in the name of anything would you keep milk in the cabinet (even if it related to a squid)? The second being just what in the hell had he been doing all this time?

The whiny complaints had quieted to low grumbles as just the alien you wanted to see paced into the living room, eyes cast downwards, antennae drooping. The words that had been forming in your throat were choked into barely a squeak when you got a closer look at him. Zim still didn't seem to notice you, red bug eyes trained on the tile, hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't the surprising bit. A jacket you thought you had lost some time ago was thrown on over his invader uniform. You couldn't remember if maybe you had left it there or maybe Zim had taken without your knowledge, but either way, he was swimming in it. The sleeves were rolled up to meet his wrists, gloved hands peeking out from the fabric. Most of the jacket itself was well past his thighs, stopping just above the knee. It had been just a bit big on you, so of course it would be massive on him. You felt any unease you were feeling immediately leave at the sight. Clearly, he hadn't been enjoying the separation as much as you thought.

"I was wondering where that coat went." A chuckle slipped past your lips. Finally, Zim seemed to notice you, head snapping in your direction, antennae perking up to attention. 

"Eh?" He didn't quite register your phrase, almost as if he had been wearing your coat for so long that he had forgotten it wasn't a part of his usual attire. "Y/n, I don't-" Zim looked down at himself, finally realizing why you were staring at him like that. He wriggled out of the jacket faster than you could gush about how adorable it was, throwing it forcefully behind the couch. "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!!" He shrieked, pointing a clawed finger at you, antennae flattening against his head in curt embarrassment. 

"So, you like my stuff, huh?" You asked cheekily, relishing in his refusal to look at you as he unknowingly clutched the hem of his invader uniform, scuffling his boots on the tile. You couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't often Zim would let himself be sheepish, since he normally knew nothing of shame.

"Nonsense!" He waved a hand dismissively, eyes still refusing to meet yours, although without his contacts, it was a bit hard to tell where exactly he was looking if his head wasn't turned. Crossing his arms tight to his chest, he wracked his brain for possible excuses. "I was just, er, working on repairs and didn't want to get my clothes dirty! Yes! I found this filthy piece of clothing and figured it would suffice." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he would never admit to the true motivations behind his actions.

Lucky for you, someone else chimed in to voice your exact thoughts. "That's a lie." The computer spoke up from nowhere in particular, monotone voice bringing a growl to rise from Zim's throat. 

"YOU'RE LYING!! There is no evidence of this!" The Irken jabbed a claw up towards the direction of the many cables and wires strung across the ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time you've witnessed him get into a spat with his computer. They could be quite entertaining to watch, actually. 

"Proof." The computer said in a matter-of-fact tone, the gargantuan TV screen buzzing to life, static clearing to reveal a recording of internal base camera feed. The date was in Irken, but you were wise enough to surmise that it was from some time over the quarantine. 

The screen displays Zim begrudgingly wandering over to the voot cruiser in the hangar. In the video feed, he looks decently depressed, antennae slack and hanging limp, posture slouched. He climbed into the ship, looking for something. Whatever it was, his search came to an unresolved end as he lifted your jacket from the seat. Apparently, you had left it in there the last time he had taken you for a flight. His eyes darted around to make sure he wasn't being watched, slipping on the coat and hugging his arms to his chest. The sleeves extended well past his hands. He brought them to his face, sniffing them. A delighted smile ghosted his mouth as he rubbed the sleeves against his face.

"Why would you record that?!" His voice cracked at the end, and you were trying your best to hold in a laugh as the TV faded back to static for a split second before opening on another instance.

This time the video depicted GIR and Zim sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. Zim was wrapped in your coat as if it were a blanket, seeming to be content enough with it. GIR had reached out a claw for the article of clothing, wishing to share. Zim hissed, yanking the coat away from his grip, swiping a clawed hand out like a cat. Clearly, he wanted it all to himself. 

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You tried to apologize, especially since the Irken standing next to you looked absolutely horrified. You were sure he felt his dignity had just faded away right along with the video feed.

"Oh, and my personal favorite." The computer added helpfully as yet another recording presented itself on the TV. This one was a bit tougher to make out. 

Zim was down in the depths of the base, and much was dark, the only light being cast from a large monitor just off screen. You were able to see Zim, sitting on the floor, sporting your jacket. He stared longingly at the sleeves that covered his hands. After a moment he shoved his face into his arms and knees as tears slipped down his face. You could only make out the tears due to the light being thrown from the monitor, making them glisten like jewels. Separation appeared to be much harder on him than you had thought. Maybe that was why he had been ignoring you, although it seemed counterproductive. It was possible that texting you made him miss you more.

Zim was not amused in the slightest by this particular clip. He stamped his foot on the tile, making frenzied cutting motions with his arms.

"COMPUTER!!!" His voice was high in volume, but a nervous chuckle laced each syllable. "I think that is quite enough!" 

The computer groaned, cutting the feed back to static, eventually switching the TV off completely. "I was just trying to be accurate."

"You only seem to care about accuracy when it is of no benefit to Zim!!" You could only imagine what was going through Zim's head in the moment, because from the outside, he was a ball of red hot rage. However, the computer was having none of his antics, going dormant once more.

"Zim? You're up here." You raised a hand above your head to indicate his anger level. "I need you to be down here." You lowered your hand to your abdomen, knowing that was a complete stretch to ask for. Especially since he was so upset he was stringing together curses in Irken. He would only speak in his native tongue around you when he was incredibly furious. His teeth were gritted tightly, foot tapping audibly on the tile.

"That damn computer." His growl was closer to that of a feral animal, and although he was calm enough to speak in English, he still required some de-escalation. 

"Relax, we'll just pretend it never happened."

"Good. Forget about those recordings." His eyes were narrowed, but he was relenting his irritation.

"What recordings?" You shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Zim seemed appeased, and in a split second, all of his anger was gone and replaced by something else entirely. All the fight seemed to leave his body as he looked to you, red eyes softening completely when they caught your own. He seemed relieved to see you, as if being away was one of the hardest things he had been through in years.

Wordlessly, he strode over to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. Soft Zim was a rare occurrence, but these moments were something you absolutely treasured. It almost made the months of isolation worth it. 

You returned the action, and the second you put your arms around him, every muscle in his body relaxed. It was a bit strange, really. To have a hardened alien soldier all but melt in your arms. He wrapped his legs around you as well, clinging to you like a koala. It wasn't hard to maintain balance since he really wasn't all that heavy.

"Couch." He mumbled, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms were draped around your neck, your own arms supporting him under his legs. A chuckle fell from your lips at his behavior. At first it seemed like he had no energy, but in reality, it was closer to him being soothed by your presence. You were about the only living creature, scratch that, the only thing in the entire universe that could ease him like this; even he wasn't sure why you had this effect on him.

"Sure thing." You walked him over to the couch, using one arm to snag your jacket off the floor before sinking down into the cushions. There was a bit of a strange smell emanating from where you sat, most likely due to GIR spilling countless snacks, messes that weren't completely cleaned up. It wasn't super potent, and in that particular moment, it wasn't one of your concerns.

As you sat on the couch, Zim remained cuddled into you. A snicker slipped out as you tossed your coat over him as if it were a blanket. At first you assumed he would protest, proclaiming that he wasn't cold, nor a weak little smeet who needs to be cared for. So when he removed his arms from you, you were bracing yourself for a lecture and/or rant. However, all he did was tuck the jacket around him better, silently snaking his arms back around you afterward.

"You really did miss me, huh?" It was a redundant question, since without even saying, you both were aware of the answer. Still, you wished to hear him say it. It would put you in good spirits. 

"Your absence was...not pleasant." His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, muffled by your clothes. His words were chosen delicately, as they always were when he didn't want to admit to something that he knew to be true. 

"So you missed me." The smile that was spread on your face shone through your voice. 

"If that is what you would like to think." Zim made an attempt at being snarky, but any mockery in his words was half-hearted at best. Breathing a sigh, you let your head fall back against the back of the couch. You knew full well that was the best you could hope to glean from him, even in his current subdued state.

"For the record, I missed you too."

"As you should. Zim is very great." Looking down, you were met with a sight that melted your heart. The coat still wrapped around him, arms still clinging to you as if you would walk out any minute. Zim's eyes were closed as he laid his head in your lap, quiet purrs rising from his throat as your fingers absentmindedly played with his antennae. You almost thought he would fall asleep. 

"I know. You're the coolest Irken I know." You may have only known one, but still. Zim was pretty amazing in your book, despite being a self-absorbed idiot at times. A pleasant silence settled over the room for a moment as you continued to twirl his antennae between your fingers.

His eyes still closed, Zim spoke again, mumbling, "Zim's next plan is to eradicate these abhorrent human pandemics." The words slurred together a bit, and although you knew Irkens to not sleep due to lack of biological necessity, whenever he was completely relaxed, he tended to get drowsy. 

"Good luck with that. I support your efforts one hundred percent." Despite the first statement harboring a twinge of sarcasm, the second was completely genuine. 

"Does Zim detect a hint of ridicule?" His words may have been a challenge, but not a single eye opened even a crack, not a single muscle in his body so much as twitching.

"All I'm saying is I haven't seen much progress on your original plan of eradicating the humans, and it's been how many years?" 

"Quiet or I'll steal another one of your inferior human zip-cloth thingies." He may not have technically stolen the first one, but you had to make a mental note to keep track of your jackets and hoodies. Or at the very least, make sure to keep the ones you wore often out of reach. You supposed in the end it didn't really matter. You would know where to find them if they did happen to go missing. And besides, he did look rather cute in them. 

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 25: Martin Prime

“Well, she was right about one thing,” Jon said dryly, a moment or two after they pulled away from the curb. “I definitely don’t care much for the original Helen Richardson.”

Martin forced a smile, although he knew his heart wasn’t in it. “Our Helen said that, did she?”

“When I was in her domain. Or, well, when I was on her doorstep, anyway. She told me I wouldn’t have—how did she put it? I wouldn’t have liked ‘Helen Classic’ all that much.” Jon sighed. “I’ll give the Distortion credit for that much, anyway. She—it—never really lied to us.”

Martin hummed and turned his face in the direction of the window. “She didn’t need to. Why lie when the truth would disorientate just as well?”

“That’s a fair point. God knows our world was confusing enough as it was. It was never very hard to get us—well, me, I suppose—turned around just by presenting me with a truth I’d never considered before.” Jon went quiet, but it was the sort of quiet he usually got when there was something he wasn’t saying and really ought to.

Ordinarily, Martin would have pried at him, tried to prod him to open up and just be honest, but right about then, he was just too tired. Not physically, mentally. Partly it was the edge of navigating a new place while blind. He’d been at one time intimately familiar with the Archives, and he’d had at least passing familiarity with both Tim’s house and the tunnels, back before. But he’d never been to the house they’d just toured before, had no frame of reference, and he’d decided to go without the cane despite Jon’s objections—he was still sort of learning how to use it properly, since it was mostly trial-and-error on his part, and he’d also got it in his head that Helen would probably be the sort of person to look down on someone visibly disabled like that. The fact that he strongly suspected he was right wasn’t helping his mental energy levels. He’d spent the last—God, four months? Had it actually been that long?—surrounded by people he knew, trusted, and loved, for varying definitions of love, and who reciprocated those feelings. Helen Richardson was the first person he’d interacted with outside of the Archival team, and he hadn’t been prepared for the way she’d acted around him. Around them, really, and he wasn’t sure if it was Jon’s appearance or the fact that they were two men in a relationship or both. That, at least, was something he was well used to—he’d been out since he was fourteen and Jon was by no means his first boyfriend, although he hadn’t really dated much since starting to work at the Institute—but it didn’t make it any less upsetting, or exhausting.

And despite that, despite the fact that she was objectively not a particularly nice person, Martin felt a weariness settle over him as he realized they probably weren’t going to be able to save her. They’d known they probably couldn’t prevent every horrible thing that had happened to the people they knew, of course, but both Jon and Martin were determined to do what they could. And since Helen’s initial statement had been rather…imprecise about how long after her experience it had been before she decided (or, as they’d later learned, was pushed) to come to the Institute and give her statement, they’d decided to see what they could do to warn her, as best they could. It probably wasn’t a surprise that it hadn’t worked. Martin didn’t need any special powers, or indeed the ability to see her face, to know that she’d been deeply skeptical of Jon’s questions about the door. He believed her when she said she hadn’t seen it—Jon had said from the beginning that the Distortion had been lucky to grab her on the first go—but he’d kind of hoped she would at least be on the alert for it, and he somehow didn’t think that was going to be the case. The Spiral was going to target her, and now Martin wondered if they’d inadvertently drawn its attention to her. God knew they’d accelerated enough other things in the timeline.

There was also something else preying on his mind, something fairly major, but he knew better than to bring it up.

Finally, Jon spoke again, in a voice so soft Martin almost couldn’t hear it over the engine. “She was selective about what truths she told me, though. It was easier to remember that when I wasn’t alone.”

Even though he knew it wasn’t meant to be a censure of him, Martin felt a stabbing of guilt in his stomach, and he had to swallow hard before he could answer. “You know I wouldn’t have—”

“I know,” Jon said immediately. Martin felt his touch on the back of his hand and instinctively laced their fingers together. “I could have…I’m not blaming you. I didn’t even realize how hard it was until I was in her domain.”

“Alone,” Martin reminded him. That was the sticking point. Jon wouldn’t have been alone when he faced down Helen if he hadn’t realized how badly Martin didn’t want him to see what his domain was like…or more accurately, what Martin in his domain was like.

“I could have waited for you. I could have gone into your domain and tried to find you. I could have taken the path that avoided Helen entirely and dealt with the spiders. I had options, Martin, and I chose to take the option that led me through Helen’s domain alone. That’s not on you.” Jon forestalled any reply Martin might have had by lifting their joined hands and kissing the back of Martin’s gently. “I don’t care what your mother said to you. You don’t bear the responsibility for anyone but yourself.”

Martin managed a smile. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” The smile in Jon’s voice was audible. “I love you, too.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. Martin almost thought that was the end of it, until Jon spoke up again. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Martin repeated, although he was pretty sure he knew what Jon meant.

“Martin. I don’t need the Eye’s power to know that there’s something on your mind.”

Martin considered denying it, but in his heart of hearts he knew he wasn’t going to do that. They were trying so hard to communicate, and they’d been doing really well at it. He wasn’t going to break that now. Best to just say it and get it over with.

“That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would,” he admitted. “Not just dealing with—pre-Distortion Helen, or, you know, trying to maneuver around a space I didn’t know without being able to see it—”

“I told you to bring your cane.”

“I know, but she was having enough trouble being civil to us as it was. Why make it worse? Not like it would have helped all that much.” Martin sighed. “That’s really only part of it, though. Not even the most significant part, if I’m being honest.” He bit his lip. “I just…I didn’t realize how much I wanted that.”

There was a short pause before Jon spoke, sounding confused. “The house? I-I mean, we can probably buy it, if you really want to.”

This time, Martin’s smile was at least genuine, if small. “Look, Peter Lukas might be a bit oblivious when it comes to technology, and he might have more money than he’ll spend in a lifetime, but even he’d notice a sudden payout of two and a half million pounds to a real estate firm.”

Jon snorted with obvious amusement. “Probably closer to three by the time Helen was done working us over.”

“Point still stands. Anyway, it’s not the house I’m talking about.”

“Then what is it?”

Martin took a deep breath. “It’s just—I never thought about a future for us. I mean, yes, of course I knew by the time we’d been in Scotland for a couple weeks that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. I-it’s just, well, once the world ended? I never really thought about the rest of our lives actually being that long. Yeah, we had the plan to stop Jonah Magnus and save the world and turn things back the way they were, but—let’s be realistic, Jon, I think we both had it in the back of our minds that we were both going to die. I guess I just never considered the possibility of a future beyond that, because I figured we didn’t have one. I figured the best I could hope for was dying with you and there being a life after death we could spend together. Even when we came back here to fix everything, I—I didn’t really think beyond immediate goals. Stop Jonah, save Tim, save Sasha, save the world. I didn’t think about what might be ahead for us. But then we were in there talking to Helen, and I was listening to you spin that story for her, and—and something just clicked, you know? I suddenly…it suddenly hit me how much I really wanted all of that. How much I want to have that—that future. That life together. A home. A cat.” He swallowed hard. “Kids.”

Jon didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Martin closed his eyes and lowered his head. He shouldn’t have said all that. He should have just left it at wanting them to have a future. He shouldn’t have mentioned how right everything Jon had lied to Helen about felt. It was too much pressure, and God knew Jon probably didn’t want it, didn’t want to risk…now Jon was going to think he had to let Martin down gently. Hell, there was no guarantee Jon even wanted this to be forever. Martin knew he loved Jon, would love him until there was nothing left of either one of them to love, but what if Jon didn’t feel the same way? Especially since most of their relationship had developed while slogging through a literal hellscape. Could they even survive a future free of conflict? But he was trying to get better about not assuming, so he pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything else and tried to fight back the tears.

At last, Jon spoke. “Do you remember the first person who came to give a live statement when we started working in the Archives?”

Leave it to Jon to change the subject rather than break his heart. And of course Martin remembered Naomi Hearn, but—wait. “Right, the—the civil engineer?” He didn’t trust himself to say much beyond that, still trying to get his emotions under control, but he remembered now. The man had found a book he thought might have been deeply cursed and been sent down to the Archives to give his statement. They’d eventually found out that the leather-bound book with its holographic, eerily styled illustrations and weird stains and symbols scattered throughout it was part of an ill-conceived but ultimately harmless viral marketing scheme for an independent horror movie that tanked at the box office and bankrupted the filmmakers.

“Mm-hmm. He brought his daughter with him, and when I came out to give him space to make his statement privately, you were keeping an eye on her for him. I don’t think you saw me—or Tim, for that matter, when he got back in—but I was…captivated. Didn’t know why then, but I just stood there watching you pacing around the Archives singing nonsense songs.”

“Polish,” Martin said softly. Jon was right—he hadn’t seen anyone else there. He’d offered to watch the little girl so she didn’t interfere with the recordings, or get scared, and he honestly hadn’t noticed another soul until the man came back for her. God, he didn’t even remember the man’s name. The girl’s name was Juliana, though. He remembered that mostly because of the children’s song he’d sung at her that had her name in it.

“I should have known. Still…my point stands. It’s…it’s a memory that’s stuck with me.” Jon exhaled. “You’d make an excellent father, Martin. I think I’d like to see that.”

A sudden weight lifted off of Martin’s chest, and he drew what felt like the first free breath he’d drawn in ages, even though it had really only been a few minutes. “Yeah?”

“Very much so,” Jon replied. “I…you’re right. I never let myself consider the future beyond…well, beyond stopping the Apocalypse. But you deserve so much more. We deserve it. So yes, Martin. To all of it. If—when we survive this, I’d like to have that future with you.”

Their fingers were still laced together. Martin turned his hand over and squeezed Jon’s tightly. “You know, that…was not how I imagined proposing to you.”

Jon’s laugh was a balm on the raw edges of Martin’s nerves—warm, affectionate, and maybe a little surprised. “Technically, you didn’t actually propose. You mentioned a lot of things you wanted, but—”

“Fine, you overly-precise bastard.” Martin laughed, too, then turned his head and hoped like hell he was actually looking at Jon. “Jonathan Sims, will you marry me?”

Jon’s hand tightened around Martin’s, and Martin could have sworn there was a hitch in his voice as he replied, “Yes, Martin Blackwood, I will.”

Martin wasn’t sure he’d ever stop smiling, even if his face hurt. “Sorry I don’t have a ring to give you, but…”

“I think I’ll survive,” Jon said dryly. He was audibly smiling, too. “I love you. So very much.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

For a moment, Martin let himself be content. They’d had more and more moments of happiness and comfort since coming back in time, and even in the short month they’d been living in the tunnels, emerging at night to let Jon feed off of statements and try to figure out what to do with the table in Artifact Storage without getting caught by Jonah, there were periods of time where they were almost as happy as they’d been in Scotland. But this moment right here? Sitting in a car with his boyfriend—his fiancé—and talking about a future Martin couldn’t have even imagined was possible even a year ago? This was the closest thing to heaven he thought he’d known since the first time Jon said I love you.

So, naturally, it all went to hell almost immediately.

Martin couldn’t even really say for sure what happened. He just felt the sudden waves of tension coming off of Jon. Jon’s fingers clenched briefly around Martin’s, then slowly relaxed and slid away. It was all done carefully and naturally, but Martin knew something was wrong. He fought down the instinct to apologize—the lingering remnants of his mother’s conditioning. It wasn’t always his fault and he knew that. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Which meant that whatever was upsetting Jon was something external.

“Jon?” he asked carefully, worried and maybe a little afraid. “What’s wrong?”

Jon took a slow, even breath, which told Martin he’d maybe considered saying nothing before remembering that they were being honest with each other. “We’re being followed.”

“Oh.” Martin rested his hands on his lap and tried to resist the urge to bunch his trousers up in his hands. “By who?”

“It’s a police car. Which I know isn’t all that helpful, all things considered, but I’m reluctant to use the Beholding’s power more than I have to, so I don’t know who’s in it. It could be just a regular police officer on patrol who thinks we’re out of place in the area. It could be a complete coincidence. But it’s beginning to get dark and this isn’t a well-populated area.”

Martin swallowed. “So what are you going to do?”

Jon took another deep breath. “I am going to obey the exact speed limit and—”

The single whoop of the siren made Martin jump, and Jon sighed. “Shit.”

“They want us to pull over, whoever they are,” Martin guessed.

“I am pulling over.” Jon paused. “Martin, just—please let me handle this. Promise me you won’t—just, please.”

Martin fought back his instinctive response and nodded. “Okay, Jon. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jon said softly.

Martin forced himself to sit still and stare straight ahead, even as he heard the faint squeaking of the window rolling down and Jon’s voice of forced calm. “Good evening, Officer.”

“License and registration,” a voice said. Martin bit back the gasp that instinctively rose in his throat. He knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a while—low and faintly menacing, unmistakably one Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, still part of both the police force and the Hunt.

There was a sound of fumbling, and then a short pause before Daisy said, “Know why I pulled you over?”

Martin could guess, but he’d promised to keep his mouth shut, and he knew why Jon had asked—begged, really. Even with a regular police officer, if Martin mouthed off to them, Jon would likely take the brunt of it. And with Daisy, that would be worse. Jon was likely hoping to protect Martin, but Martin would do whatever he had to in order to keep Jon safe, too.

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Jon was still keeping his voice even, but Martin could hear that it was shaking, just a little.

“Step out of the car.”

Martin stiffened as fear shot through him. This isn’t a well-populated area. Was it secluded enough, abandoned enough, that Daisy might do something to Jon? Even with him sitting right there? Quickly, he chastised himself. That wasn’t the Hunt, that would be the Slaughter—purposeless violence, violence for violence’s sake. The Hunt was about the chase, the tracking and following. Prey that did what you wanted it to wasn’t very interesting, and even if Daisy had sensed Jon wasn’t fully human, she wouldn’t hurt him the first time she met him. She would threaten him, let him know she was on to him…

He had to try very hard to keep his breathing even and keep from climbing out of the car himself when he heard Jon’s door shut. The window was still down, so he could hear Jon’s voice, a bit fainter but still audible. “What is this about, D—Officer?”

“You really can’t guess?” Martin had to strain hard to hear Daisy, and he tried to breathe as lightly as possible so he wouldn’t miss anything. “Let’s start with what you’re doing in this neighborhood.”

“We had an appointment to view a house.”

“That I’m sure you can’t afford. Doubt the Magnus Institute pays that well.” There was a faint hint of malicious satisfaction in Daisy’s voice, Martin thought, and she probably had that sharp, smug little smile of hers.

“There’s no law against looking, even if we won’t be able to buy,” Jon said. “A-and there’s always a chance we could manage it together. There’s—there’s a lot we can do together.”

Martin noticed then that Jon was putting slight stress on we. Like he was reminding Daisy that he wasn’t alone. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he listened. The knowledge that Daisy was the only person who’d tried to help Jon when Martin couldn’t had made him try to trust her, and he’d thought a lot over the last however long it had been about her lowering her gun and letting Elias live rather than risk Basira dying, but try as he might, he could never shake the memory of Jon standing in that office, disheveled, frightened, and neck still tacky with blood. This Daisy wasn’t their Daisy, the one who’d forced Jon to listen to The Archers to ground him to humanity or asked Basira to find her and kill her once she’d saved the Institute. This was the one who would shoot Jon, or slit his throat, and not lose a moment’s sleep over it. God only knew what she’d do to Martin, even though he was—in theory anyway—human.

“Mm-hmm. Of course,” Daisy replied. “And you certainly didn’t have any…designs on anyone in the neighborhood.”

“I don’t mean harm to anyone.”

“Sure you don’t. Does the real Jonathan Sims know you have his car?”

Martin’s body ran cold. He knew Daisy hadn’t met Jon this quickly after Basira’s first visit to the Archives—she’d come with the third tape—so there was no way she knew the Jon in this timeline either. She couldn’t possibly. How could she know—?

“I am Jonathan Sims,” Jon insisted.

“Uh-huh. And who’s in the car with you?”

“My fiancé.” The pride in Jon’s voice overrode his fear, just for a moment, and Martin’s lips twitched involuntarily. Jon had always taken an inordinate amount of delight in claiming Martin as his boyfriend, regardless of the tone whoever they encountered addressed them in; he should have known Jon would be even more thrilled to tell people they were engaged. Fleetingly, he wondered what the Archival team would think of it, or if they were going to mention it before everything was over. He didn’t think Jon would manage to keep it a secret.

“He have a name?”

“Of course he does.”

A faint growl came from somewhere, and the hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood up. There had been a time when he would have considered his inner animal or daemon or Patronus or whatever you wanted to call it to be some sort of small squeaky mammal, because growing up, whenever he came up against a choice between fight, flight, or freeze, his body inevitably chose to freeze, or more accurately to curl in on itself and fight the urge to cry because that made things worse. Since escaping his mother’s clutches, and even more since becoming part of the Archives, he’d drifted towards a weird blend of fight and freeze that usually manifested in him getting angry and doing something stupid. That growl, though, made him want to hunker down in the grass and pray not to be seen. Not even metaphorically. He shrank back against the seat and swallowed hard, willing Jon with all his heart to get back in the damn car already.

The sudden sharp rap on the window right next to Martin’s ear made him almost jump out of his skin, and he couldn’t stop his frightened gasp this time. It took him a second to realize he was probably expected to put down his window. He fumbled for the crank and managed to wind it down.

“Step out of the car,” Daisy’s voice ordered.

Martin scrambled to get the safety belt undone, then reached for the car door to open it. He gave a fleeting thought to his cane, but he couldn’t quite remember if he’d brought it with him or left it at Tim’s house when they’d borrowed Past Jon’s car and he didn’t think he had the time to ask. The door suddenly jerked from his hand, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. He only barely managed to keep himself steady and get out without falling.

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, he chanted to himself as he braced himself against the roof of the car. This could still go badly for Jon—for both of them, really, but if Martin mouthed off Daisy was likely to take it out on Jon.

“On the curb,” Daisy ordered.

Martin nodded, making what he hoped were being taken as noises of agreement, and started around the car, keeping one hand on it to make sure he didn’t wander off into the street and get run over. Jon had mentioned it was starting to get dark. Besides, the last thing he wanted was Daisy to think he was trying to run.

“Leave him out of this.” Jon sounded more scared than Martin thought he’d heard him since they’d been separated in the Lonely house. “He hasn’t done—”

“Shut up,” Daisy growled. She—or something, anyway—prodded Martin sharply between the shoulder blades. “Hurry up.”

Martin’s hip slammed into the side of the car. He bit back a grunt of pain and tried to pick up the pace, but moving faster meant he didn’t have time to figure out what was ahead of him and he almost tripped over the curb when he finally reached it. The slap of his hand on the car’s hood echoed loudly—which was good, he supposed, it meant there was something for the sound to echo off of, which meant they weren’t in a completely isolated area—and he pulled himself onto the sidewalk and edged around the car. He bumped into the mirror and stopped moving. Daisy would tell him if she wanted him somewhere else. He hoped.

“Jon?” he whispered as loud as he dared. Hopefully he was still quiet enough to cover the thin edge of panic.

“I’m here, Martin,” Jon whispered back. It wasn’t soft enough to cover his panic, or maybe Martin just knew him well enough to hear it. He doubted that, though. Jon had admitted, simultaneously not long ago and forever ago, that what Daisy had put him through was still one of the most terrifying things he’d experienced, and even though they’d later become friends, it was hard to forget what she’d nearly done. And this was the Daisy who would do that. Add in the fact that Martin was here, and far more vulnerable than Jon was, and it was going to terrify him.

Martin took a deep, steadying breath. He had to hold it together. He had to. If Jon was that scared, the last thing he needed was to know how scared Martin was.

“What’s your name?” Daisy demanded.

“Martin Blackwood,” Martin answered, managing to keep his voice even.

“Oh, interesting. I don’t suppose you’ve got any ID on you to prove that.”

Martin pressed his lips together hard for a moment. He might, actually; his wallet was somewhere in one of their bags, unless he’d lost it slogging through the Apocalypse, and they’d made sure to bring everything out of the tunnels with them, just in case Leitner went snooping around and tried to do something. But there would be a lot of digging around involved in that. “Not handy, sorry.”

Daisy’s snort was close enough that the air from it curled against Martin’s cheek, and he flinched. He hadn’t realized she was so nearby. “Of course not. That would be easy, wouldn’t it?”

Martin swallowed back his instinctive response and kept as still as he could. He strained his every sense to listen, but apart from the usual sounds of a late summer evening, he couldn’t hear anything. Daisy could be right next to him, or right in front of him, or right in front of Jon. She could be anywhere, doing anything, and it set his every nerve on edge.

“So,” Daisy said finally. It sounded like she’d moved, but Martin couldn’t quite tell where she was. “The two of you are claiming to be half the staff from the Archives at the Magnus Institute. You’re driving around a tony neighborhood where neither you nor the people you’re pretending to be belong. And you’ve stolen car and ID. If I were to call the Magnus Institute, I wonder what I would learn?”

“Likely nothing. I-it’s well past closing time,” Jon answered. He sounded a little breathless. Something brushed against Martin’s hand, and he almost jumped before his mind registered the familiar feel of the roughness and slight ridges of Jon’s worm-scarred hand. He flexed his fingers slightly, and Jon gripped him like a dying man might grasp a lifeline. Martin rubbed his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand as gently as he could, hoping to give him at least a little comfort.

“Hmm. Then maybe I should reach out directly. Or maybe…” Daisy’s voice shifted slightly, and Jon gave a small, frightened gasp and tightened his grip on Martin’s hand, which set Martin’s heart rate kicking into overdrive. “Maybe I should just handle things now.”

“Y-you wouldn’t.” Jon was obviously trying to sound confident, but the fear overrode everything. “Not here. N-not so close to—people. Whatever I am, Martin isn’t—”

“What gave you that scar?” Daisy demanded.

“I—I have—”

“That one,” Daisy growled, and Jon let out a choked gurgle that told Martin she’d probably jabbed a finger into his throat. “Looks like something already tried to shut you up.”

“You did,” Jon gasped.

There was a long pause, and Martin heard a faint crunching noise, like Daisy had taken a step back. “What?” she said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Not now.” Jon’s breath was coming in short, panting gasps, like he’d been running—or like when they’d been in Scotland, when he’d woken from the worst of the nightmares. Martin wanted to wrap him up and soothe him, but he couldn’t, not here, not now. “We’re—we’re from the future. We’re here to—to stop something awful from happening.”

“Oh, what, the end of the world?” Was there maybe a little bit of uncertainty in Daisy’s voice?

“Yes. Actually. The world ends and—and so many people died. You died. You—we were friends. Later.” Jon sounded a little desperate. “I-I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true, Daisy, I swear it.”

Daisy inhaled sharply. “What did you just call me?”

“D—oh, shit.” If Jon squeezed Martin’s hand any harder, he was going to break Martin’s fingers or his own or both. “I—look, I told you, we knew each other in our timeline. Your name is Detective Alice Tonner, but everyone calls you Daisy. You don’t really tell people why, but i-it’s because of the scar on your back. I—we know you. We’re here to save you. You, and Basira, and—and everyone else.”

The silence stretched on so long that Martin wanted to scream—anything to fill it. He wanted to bundle Jon back into the car and get out of there. He wished, more strongly than he’d wished in ages, that he could see, so he could see to get them away, to know if they were safe, to make them safe. He didn’t know what Daisy was about to do and he couldn’t anticipate it without being able to see her. And of course the Hunt would keep her hidden from anyone who couldn’t see her, so he couldn’t even hear where she might be.

Finally, Daisy growled, “Whoever you are—whatever you are—I’ll let you go. This time. But if we ever cross paths again, monster…you’re mine.”

A door slammed, making Martin jump again. An engine revved, tires squealed, and then it was just the sounds of a summer night and Jon’s desperate bid for air.

“Jon?” Martin managed to maneuver around the mirror and reach for Jon with his free hand.

Jon latched onto Martin even more tightly than he had during the thunderstorm, his arms wrapped around Martin’s neck and his face buried in his chest and his body pressed so close to him it almost hurt. Martin wrapped him up securely in a hug and rocked him back and forth, trying to murmur soothing words, but they got stuck in his throat. He was only just realizing how scared he’d actually been.

“Jon, I’m here, I’m here,” he said instead, clinging to his boyfriend—his fiancé—to reassure himself that he was still there. It had been one thing to hear Jon tell him later about Daisy holding a knife to his throat in the woods, another to see that portrait of her menacing him, but living the moment they’d just lived through…

Martin realized that he’d never truly been afraid of Daisy. Not really. He’d had a hard time trusting her, he’d been angry about what she’d done, or nearly done, to Jon, but he’d never actually been afraid to be in a room with her, even when she’d been in full cop mode all but accusing him of being an accessory after the fact to murder. This was probably the first time Martin really, truly realized how close Jon had come to dying in that forest. How scared he must have been. How hard it must have been to trust her after that, to call her a friend. It was sobering. And humbling. And terrifying as fuck.

“She still scares me,” Jon whispered into Martin’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, we were friends, I cared about her. I did. I trusted her. But…”

“But she was the only person who could hurt you after the Apocalypse for a reason,” Martin murmured.

“Not the only one. Just the only one who would.”

Martin blinked hard, then decided to unpack that later. “We’re—we’re safe now. For now. We’re safe for now. It’s okay, Jon, we’re both here. We’re here. She won’t—she didn’t—” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and tried not to cry.

He couldn’t fall apart. He had to be the strong one. He was good at that, at pushing down his emotions and being the steady one. The hardest part of being with Jon had been learning to lean on Jon too, to let himself have emotions and weaknesses and moments where he was the one being held and comforted. And this was a situation, a tiny part of his brain clinging to rationality told him, where they could, and probably should, lean on each other. They both needed comfort, they both needed reassurance. But Martin had been pushed too far in his fear, and when he went this far, he defaulted into caretaker mode. He could fall apart later, when he was alone and had the time, even though he knew he would never be alone, Mum would make sure of that, and even if he was alone he’d have so much he had to do, there would never be time…

“Let’s get out of here,” Jon choked out.

Martin didn’t want to let go of him, but he eased back anyway. Jon didn’t let go of his hand, either, instead leading him around the car and opening the door for him. Even then, he didn’t let go of Martin’s hand, but climbed into the passenger seat.

“Jon, I cannot drive us,” Martin protested, even though instinct was telling him to do exactly that. Jon’s upset, he won’t be able to concentrate, you need to get us home safe…no, he needed to remember that he was blind and that, even in the throes of a panic attack, Jon would get them back to Tim’s safer than Martin would.

“No, I just—come on.” Jon tugged on Martin’s hand, which he hadn’t let go of, and as Martin ducked under the roof of the car, he heard grunts and rustling noises and realized what was going on. Jon had climbed over the center console from the passenger’s seat rather than let go of Martin’s hand for an instant.

Neither of them bothered with the safety belts, and Jon kept a tight hold of Martin’s hand even as he managed to put the car into gear. They didn’t speak the rest of the drive. Martin couldn’t tell how fast they were going, but it hardly seemed like they’d been driving any time at all before the engine cut out, and then Jon was crawling back across the console and into Martin’s lap.

They clung to each other tightly. Martin could feel Jon shaking, and honestly he wasn’t doing much better himself. He tried to hold back the tears—he didn’t have the right to be scared, not like Jon did, she hadn’t really been threatening him—but then Jon whispered brokenly, “I thought I was going to lose you,” and Martin’s control shattered.

“You thought—Jon, I thought she was going to—” Martin choked off the words and tightened his arms around Jon, hoping he’d tell him if he was hurting him. “You were—she could have—a-and I couldn’t see her, I didn’t know where she was, I—God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Jon parried. “I-I couldn’t—when she told you to get out of the car, I—I didn’t want to—I was afraid to Know anything about her, I didn’t want her to sense it and—I know you couldn’t, not really, b-but she’s part of the Hunt and her whole thing is hunting monsters and—oh, God. I was afraid she was going to hurt you to punish me and—a-are you okay?”

Martin tried to figure out how to answer that question and finally said, “She didn’t hurt me. And I asked you first.”

Jon made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know. I asked how you were because I—I can’t be okay if you’re not okay.”

“Yeah, that goes both ways,” Martin said. He managed a shaky laugh and added, “Weirdly, despite the fact that I’m an absolute mess over here, I’m feeling better than I did before.”

“I-I know. You…you don’t let yourself…” Jon broke off. “I know.”

A long silence settled between them, broken only by Jon’s choked, stuttered breathing as he tried not to burst into tears. Martin could feel the panicked flutter of Jon’s heart in his chest, and he knew he was crying too, but them being together and alive and safe, or at least relatively safe, went a long way towards calming him. He rubbed Jon’s back, grimacing at the unfamiliar feel of thin silk barely masking the ridged scars that still mottled Jon’s back.

“You don’t feel right,” he said without really thinking about it.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how they sounded, but before he could take them back, Jon huffed lightly. “Neither do you. L-let’s—if they’re home, m-maybe Tim will let us change back into our regular clothes before we head back. I—I’d rather wear your sweater. I-it makes me feel safe.”

God, how was it possible to love this man any more than he already did? Martin pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s head, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

It took a bit of awkward gymnastics for them to get out of the car without letting go of one another, or falling to the ground, and Jon wrapped his arm around Martin’s waist as soon as they were both standing upright. He fished one of their bags out of the backseat—Martin presumed—and the two of them shuffled up to the house like some sort of odd four-legged creature. Their height difference made it hard, but Martin understood. He didn’t want Jon that far away from him, either.

He’d thought they probably still looked fairly presentable, but that idea was dispelled when they stumbled into the kitchen to be greeted by Tim’s shocked and horrified shout of “Jesus Christ!”

“Are you all right? What happened?” The only reason Martin knew it was Past Jon asking and not his Jon was because it was coming from the wrong direction.

“Here, sit down,” Past Martin added. “Let me—um, I can get some tea—”

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” Jon said, despite all evidence. “Just—we’re fine. Tim, can we—borrow your room to change?”

It was probably a mark of how worried Tim was that he didn’t reply with something along the lines of No, you have to strip right here in the kitchen. “Sure. You know where it is. We’ll—go get comfortable.”

“Thanks, Tim,” Martin said softly as he and Jon headed through the kitchen.

They made it to Tim’s room without too much difficulty, and by the time they reached it, Martin guessed they’d both calmed down enough that they didn’t have to be attached completely—which was good, since that would have made getting changed awkward. That didn’t mean they wanted to be far away from each other, though. Martin sat on the edge of Tim’s bed and listened to Jon rummaging around in the bag for clothes while he undid the first couple of buttons on his too-stiff shirt, then paused. An idea began to form in his head.

When Jon came over and draped a sweater in his lap, Martin reached out and caught Jon’s wrist gently before he could move back. “Will you let me help you?”

He would have given almost anything to be able to see how Jon was looking at him just then. Was it confusion or resignation or annoyance? When Jon spoke, though, it was in a voice that was soft and laden with affection. “Only if you let me help you in return.”

Martin nodded. “I’d like that.”

There was a bit of fumbling and murmured apologizing, but they managed to arrange things so that Martin could undo the buttons on Jon’s shirt while Jon unbuttoned Martin’s. It was something they’d done before, although not since coming back to the past, but Martin remembered the first week they’d been in Scotland when he’d managed to convince Jon to come on a walk with him and they’d been caught in a sudden rainstorm. They’d run back to the safe house breathless and dripping, both of them fussing at the other to get out of their wet clothes before they got pneumonia, and they’d both moved in to help each other at the same time. By the end of it, their cheeks had hurt from laughter and Martin’s shirt was missing two buttons, but since it had been the shirt he’d worn to work the day everything happened—just like the shirt Jon had been wearing had been—they’d agreed it was no great loss.

This felt different. Well, it was different. That had been two men just starting to feel out the edges of their relationship, coming out of a time of stress and uncertainty and into what they’d thought would be a time of peace, struggling to find their place in the world and how they fit in around each other. This was…well, it was two men who’d been through literal hell together and come out the other side, who knew what they were to each other. It was about taking care of each other, but it was also about reassuring themselves that the other was there and whole and well. They took a little more care with getting each other’s shirts off, partly out of respect for the quality of the shirts—although Martin was already silently wagering with himself about whether they’d ever be able to wear them without thinking about Daisy threatening them—and partly because they were both still more scared than they were willing to admit. Martin could tell exactly how scared Jon was when he stepped forward and silently embraced Martin instead of getting dressed again once their button-downs were off.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. His voice was soft and raw.

Martin hugged Jon back, pressing their foreheads together and soaking in the calm that Jon’s presence could always draw in him, no matter the circumstances. He nodded slowly. “Getting there. You?”

“I will be.” Jon shifted the angle and kissed Martin, warmly and tenderly, then pulled back with a small sigh. “Let’s finish getting dressed and go…I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t think they’ll let us, but we should probably at least warn them,” Martin said slowly. He was reluctant to let go of Jon, even though they’d both at least stopped shaking. “You know, in case Daisy thinks we’re…actually them?”

“I—I don’t think she does, but you’re right, we should.”

It was probably too warm for sweaters, but the tunnels were underground and made of stone, so they stayed cool year-round. Besides, as Jon had said, the weight was comforting. Martin pulled on the sweater and changed his trousers, then waited while Jon repacked their bag. They were still wrapped around each other when they headed back to meet the others, but at least they were a bit steadier.

That was always the way, though. They were partners; they held one another up, supported one another, steadied and anchored one another. No matter how bad or scary things got, there was nothing they couldn’t face if they held onto one another and stayed together.

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark? (17)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 2926

Warnings: Swearing because it’s me. Besides that I think you’re good.

Author Note: Sorry I took a week off from posting. Got hit with an awful allergy attack. Needed a week to be sick. I meant to be back to posting yesterday, but here we are posting on a Monday. Next update will be Wednesday hopefully.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

B: You should have come to the party. It was fun. Although Spider-Man never came. So I don’t know if Peter was lying or what. Either way it would have been more fun if you were there.

Y:i had family stuff come up. next one.

“Learning all about the party?” Natasha asks from the driver’s seat as you enter back into the city. You had spent the night at the compound, watching horror movies and catching your aunt up on the gossip from school. She had managed to find out that it wasn’t just the fact that you were upset that Peter got to meet Spider-Man first but that you had a somewhat major crush on Peter. A somewhat major crush that was being dampened by his weird behavior.

“Have to know what to tell Happy and Pepper about when I get home.”

“Did Spider-Man show up?”

“No.” You look at the only other notification on your phone. Your Snpchat streaks that you need to answer. You snap a few pictures to answer Betty and Astrid. But you don’t know what to do about Peter. You guys have had a streak going since the day you became friends on Snapchat and you’re not one to give up your streaks. But you’re also a Stark, which apparently means you don’t give up a fight that easily. You open the picture Peter sent you, it says S in the corner. But then it has a text banner across the bottom of the screen.

y/n please don’t be mad at me because i told them about sm

All you do is snap a photo of the passing buildings and draw an S on the screen. You click send before you can change your mind. The moment you hit send your phone goes off, with your dad’s face on your home screen.

“That Papa Stark?” Natasha asks without even looking.

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t send him to voicemail. He’ll track you.” You know she’s right. So you hit accept call and put him on speaker, not minding Natasha hearing the call.

“Hey kiddo, I’m about to board the plane home. But why is your phone pinging in the Bronx?” So he is tracking you.

“Went to a party in the suburbs last night. Heading home.”

“Went to a party? Did you see Spider-Man there?”

“He never showed up. However this really cool blonde chick did though.” Natasha shakes her head at you. She mouths NO at you.

“Really? New friend?”

“She reminds me of someone I already know. Besides the point. Why did you never text me back yesterday?”

“You realize I’m in a completely different time zone than you right?”

“That hasn’t stopped you before. You never sleep.”

“Y/N, I’ll explain what I can when I get home. Can you put Happy on? I need to let him know some stuff.”

“He’s not driving me. Betty’s mom is.”

“Why didn’t you have Happy drive you?”

“Because Betty’s mom is very capable.”

“But Happy is the forehead of security for a reason. I feel like I have dealt with nothing but irresponsible teenagers all weekend.”

“What do you mean all weekend? You’ve been gone and not around teenagers all weekend?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye Dad.”

“Love you kiddo.” You don’t say anything in response. You know you should, but the teenager in you is feeling particularly stubborn today as you hang up your phone. 

“So this boy…” Natasha trails off as she starts to shift to the highway that will take you back towards Queens.

“Aunt Nat, there’s nothing I can do about him. He’s literally my dad’s intern. Plus I already told you- he’s been acting weird for weeks now. It’s like he’s hiding something. If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t be shocked if something appeared in the press about our family from him.”

“But you know him. So there’s probably something else. Have you tried talking to him?”

“And say what? Hey Parker you’re acting like a weirdo? Talk to me in front of all our friends or in front of Happy when you miraculously happen to ride with me which is like never?”

“I thought his name was Peter.”

“It is, but long story short, I call him by his last name a lot too.”

“Want me to do some sneaky background searching?”

“You think Dad hasn’t made FRIDAY look already? I could search, but do I want to know?” You ask and know you probably don’t. “I have enough people in my life already keeping secrets from me. I just thought he would be my honest friend.”

“You thought he might be worthy of being a boyfriend?” Natasha raises an eyebrow as she asks.

“It doesn’t matter if I did.” You fiddle with the radio as you try to ignore her question. Had you pictured it, sure. But it was a thought of the past now. “All I want now is for him to go back to the friend that I could have jokes with and sneak off campus when I was having a shitty day because the Avengers decided to be shitty.”

“You seem to sneak out of school too much.”

“I swear I only started doing it since I joined this family. So that says something more about you guys then me.”

“Not helping your case.” But Natasha still smiles. She knows that if it were really a problem your dad would put an end to it. “You’re a smart kid and your dad wouldn’t have fought to keep you at that school if it wasn’t one of the best. Take advantage of it. Because I have to stay under the radar, so I can’t be taking you out of school every other day.”

“I know. I do really appreciate it.”

“It’s what family does.” Your aunt’s hand falls to your shoulder.

“Can you at least stay under the radar and stay in touch? Because this whole going months without seeing you makes me worry.”

“I’ll find a way to let you know I’m alright.” Natasha promises as she pulls up in front of the brownstone. 

“How…?” You hadn’t even told her your new address.

“I keep tabs on important people.” She smiles. “Now get inside before Pepper wonders why you stayed out all night.”

“Happy will have told her I went to a party. That’s the whole point of him being the forehead of security or whatever it is that Dad calls him day to day.”

“Your dad and his nicknames.” Natasha says with a roll of her eyes. “Will he have though? Your dad didn’t know?”

“Dad’s across the world right now. Pepper was at SI yesterday which is where Happy goes when I’m at school. The likelihood that he mentioned it is like 85% or higher I would say.”

“Only 85%? Hmm.” Your aunt teases you. You lean over the console to give your aunt a hug. 

“Don’t stay away for so long next time please.” You say softly. “I think out of everyone you and Pepper are the most sane ones.”

“I won’t disagree with that.” Natasha smiles as she hugs you back. “Get inside.” Although you don’t seem to notice, Natasha sees the strawberry blonde at the window. As you climb out of the car, Natasha makes eye contact with Pepper. 

No matter how either of them feel about how the accords went down, there’s one thing they're in agreement about- keeping you safe and happy is important. So while she knows that Tony wouldn’t be happy to see you getting out of Natasha’s car, she won’t say anything yet. Because Pepper knows that Natasha would and will keep you safe. However, there is something that she will need to address with you, and that’s the fact that you lied about where you were for the last 24 hours.

As you stand outside the car, you wave at Natasha once more before making your way towards the front door of the brownstone. FRIDAY unlocks the door and lets you walk in. “Pepper, I’m home.” You call out. 

“Living room.” Pepper calls back, as if she hasn’t just walked in there a few moments earlier. You walk in to see her scrolling her datapad. “How was the party?” She asks, hoping you’ll just own up to where you actually were. 

“Eh, you know. Normal I guess.” So sticking with the lies it is?

“Certain masked vigilante show up?” Pepper asks, not looking up.

You shake your head. “Nah. Guess a high school party isn’t cool enough for Spider-Man.” Pepper wants to laugh knowing who Spider-Man actually is, but she doesn’t.

“How’s Betty?”

“Good. She had fun last night.” 

“And her mom?”

“Also good.”

“And Natasha?”

“Doing well.” You realize what you said. “Shit.”

“Wanna talk about what actually happened in the past twenty four hours?” 

“If I say no, do I still have to?” Pepper looks up from the datapad.

“You probably should.” So you sit down on the couch next to her and tell her everything, from the lunch conversation yesterday, to texting Aunt Nat, to staying at the compound, your mixed feelings about Peter, to coming home.

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

“That you spent the night at the compound with a Rogue instead of going to a high school party? No. Do I think you should probably tell him? I think that’s a decision you should make for yourself. However, excluding the Accords and all that happened with that, I trust Natasha and I know she would never do anything to hurt you, which is why she is still allowed to take you out of school. But I don’t want you thinking you can do this all the time.”

“I know. I just… Yesterday was a bad day. First Delmar’s, then the Spider-Man drama, and it just felt like everything was piling up on each other and I just couldn’t deal with school.”

“You know you could have called me right?”

“Really? But you wouldn’t let me skip the fitness test yesterday morning.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to skip school because you don’t want to do something I know you can do and needing to leave school because everything is overwhelming you. You need me and I’ll be there for you. That will never change. Hell if you had called your dad and told him that school was too much, he would have sent Happy in a heartbeat. That will always be how we handle school with you, as long as you’re honest with us.” She stresses the honesty part of it all. 

“To be fair, I did text Dad and he wasn’t much help.”

“Did you text him or did you accuse him?” Pepper asks, knowing the hotheadedness you and your dad both get. 

“Maybe more of the second.”

“And he stopped responding?”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he told me, with you, he never wants to get angry or irrational about things that he can preemptively avoid. So maybe he stepped away from the conversation but he’ll probably talk with you about it all once he’s home tomorrow. Because he loves you, a lot. And he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s going to be mad when you come to him with things that may or may not be his fault.”

“Aunt Nat said he probably was keeping Spider-Man from me because of the same reason all the Accords stuff happened.” You pause before adding, “to keep me safe.”

“If I had to guess, I would think so. He does a lot of things to keep you safe. You’re the center of his universe. And he’ll do anything in his power to make sure no harm comes to you.”

“Am I in trouble?” You ask.

“For?”

“Lying?”

“Not this time. Only because you did take responsible steps. You contacted a trusted adult. Now if you had lied and gone to a party instead. We’d be having a different discussion. But you did make fairly smart decisions.” Pepper pulls you in for a hug. “Your dad and I love you a lot. You know that right?” You nod into the hug.

“I love you too Pepper.” You lean into her hold onto you. You know that Pepper will probably be your step-mom one day, whenever your dad finally gets the courage up to ask her finally. But a small part of you wishes that Pepper could have been your mom.

You’re working on homework that’s due tomorrow, when there’s a knock on your door. Without looking up, you say, “come in,” expecting Pepper to walk in, since your dad’s flight isn’t supposed to land for another hour if you’re remembering correctly. 

“Hey kiddo.” Your head flies up at the sound of your dad’s voice.

“I thought you were getting back around dinner time?” 

“When it’s a private jet, you can leave whenever you want. Had them leave a bit earlier so I could get home earlier.” He explains, his hand still resting on your door knob. “What are you working on?” 

“Chemistry.” You grimace. “I don’t think I’m doing right though.” 

“Can I help?” 

“You really want to?”

“I happen to be pretty good at it.” Tony walks across the room to take a seat on your bed. “Before we work on this, can we talk really quick?”

“About?” You have a pretty good feeling you know what about, but the longer you can push it off the better.

“Those texts on Friday?” Wait, Pepper really didn’t tell him?

“Sure?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you kiddo. I promise you. But I needed to step back from the conversation before I said something that came across the wrong way. When I was reading your texts I was jet lagged and heading to a wedding I didn’t really want to be at. I was worried I was going to snap at you, come across as… someone I don’t want to be. I promised myself I would reply after I got some sleep, but next thing I knew I was on the phone with you and realized I never did. I’m sorry. I promise you, you were in the right to be upset with me, but it really was that I meant to reply back and it slipped my mind.”

“Ok.” You say after a moment.

“Ok?”

“Ok, I forgive you.”

“Really? No telling me I fucked up?”

“Pepper and I talked about it yesterday and she gave me some insight that really helped. So you’re forgiven and all that.”

“What did Pepper say?” Tony wants to know what Pepper said that changed you from when he talked to you.

“That you probably stepped away from the conversation so that we weren’t just two hotheads yelling at each other.” You shrug. “Also something about me being the center of your universe.” Tony smiles at that.

“Well neither of those are wrong. Just don’t get a big head about being the center of my universe.” He leans over to kiss your forehead.

“Wouldn’t think about it.” You smirk. But then you remember the conversation you had with your Aunt Nat about why your dad probably kept Spider-Man away from you. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Did you keep Spider-Man from me because you didn’t want more superheroes near me after all the Accords stuff happened?”

“Wow, Pepper coming up with so much insight.” Tony smiles and you don’t disagree, knowing that technically you’re lying by not telling him, but you want to hear what he has to say instead of talking about your Friday night. “Yes, partially. With superheroes comes villains and danger. Do I want to keep that as far as possible from you? Yes. If I can only protect two things, it’s you and Pep, hands down. It’s part of the reasons I don’t keep you around the remaining Avengers either. But there’s also another reason with the situation with the Rogues made me realize how dangerous putting my trust in a group of super humans is. They can turn around and shoot you in the back, leaving you crippled for life. I can’t have that happening to you. Not when you’re perfect just the way you are. Like Pep said, you’re the center of my universe, which means I will do anything to make sure that the center of my universe is safe.” 

You think over what your dad says for a moment. Shoot you in the back? Clearly he’s talking about Uncle Rhodey’s injury. The Rogues did that to Uncle Rhodey? Aunt Nat hadn’t said anything about that. And Vision didn’t seem to think anything of seeing her at the Compound. So this is all more confusing. “So you introduced him to Peter instead? Dad that puts Peter in danger-”

“He met Peter because Peter is helping me make some of the Avengers’ tech. I needed Spider-Man to explain some of the specific things he’s looking for in his tech. That was it. I didn’t know they were good enough friends that Peter could invite him to parties, especially ones that you’re going to, and Spider-Man would show up. That’s on me for not paying closer attention. I’ll talk to Peter about that. And remind Spider-Man that he’s not a costume character to show up at parties for fun.” You feel slightly bad about getting Peter in trouble. “But let’s get on your homework.”

“And here I was hoping I could distract you long enough to ignore it.” You grimace throwing your head back.

“Come on kiddo. We’ve got this.”

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick​

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway​  @iamaunicorn4704​  @furiouspockettoad​  @daughter-of-stark​  @eternalharry​  @huntective-kyeo​ @riiis-stuff​ @sunnyoongles  @cosmicqueenieb​ @sovereignparker​ @bbarnestan​ @teenwishes08​ @iamthescarlettwitch​ @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365​ @a-mnd​

[a-girl-with-a-big-heart]

Accidents Happen

Twice Mina x Reader

Hogwarts AU + Fluff

Requested: Hi!! I'm so happy that you open the request since I really love your writing 🥰 🥰 so can I request a super fluffy hogwarts AU between Ravenclaw Mina and Gryffindor fem reader? Please and thank you have a nice day!!

You woke up this morning to cheers and laughter as your friends came into your room to hype you up for your big day. You had a Quidditch match against Slytherin, and you were the star Keeper of your respective House. Quidditch was a sport everyone in your family has done from generation to generation. It was in your blood to keep the tradition going. Just like your mother, you were one of the best Keepers in your generation.

All day your friends had been doing ridiculous things for you. Whenever you walked in a room, they would make way for you like a princess and shoo people out of your way. Even some of the other Gryffindors that you barely knew joined in, following you around like the rest. It was funny at first, but it started getting a little annoying after a while.

“Are you guys going to follow me to the bathroom too?” Even some of the guys were shocked as they turned away immediately when you stopped by the girls bathroom. That’s when some of them dispersed, but your friends still remained.

“We’re just messing with you y/n.” Your friend Chaeyoung tells you. “Go and do your business. We’ll meet you at lunch.” The rest of your friends left, following Chaeyoung, and you were finally able to be alone for the first time day.

When you entered the bathroom, you sat in one of the stalls. It may or may not have been an excuse to let everyone leave you alone for now. You were able to finally be alone with your thoughts as the nerves and anxiety kick in about your match later. It was normal for you to be nervous. But you were going up against a team you had trouble with since day one. They played dirty without getting penalized and it scared you to the core that you might not leave the match without any scars. You’ve dealt with fractured bones and almost broke your ribs before, but that’s not what scared you. What you were truly afraid of was the fact that your girlfriend was going to be watching you for the first time since you’ve been together. Mina was never one who was interested in Quidditch, but when you told her that it was important to you, she said she would be there. You wanted to impress her, but the thought goes down the drain when you remember that you’re going up against Slytherin.

Once you finally calm down, you find the courage to leave as you make your way to the dining hall. There weren’t a lot of people as it was a Saturday, so the majority have probably left to go setup the match later today. You could feel your stomach grow queasy at the thought, but you calmed down as soon as your saw your friends.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Chaeyoung perks. With a roll of your eyes, you sit across from her as you start to fill your plate up with the assorted foods in front of you. Before you dig in, you feel a pair of hands cover your eyes.

“Guess who.” Her laugh gives her away as you could tell just by her touch who it was. You bring your hand over hers as you uncover your eyes to reveal your girlfriend.

“Mina.” You smile at her as she sits down next to you. She was dressed in regular clothes with her Ravenclaw scarf draped around her neck.

“Are you nervous?” She was referring to your match later, and even if you were to lie, she would know.

“Yeah, kinda.” You admit. Chaeyoung glances at you with a cocky grin.

“You? Nervous? Never heard of that before.” She laughs. You glare at her before flipping her off.

“It’s okay to be nervous.” One of your other friends tell you. “I mean, I’d be nervous if it was my girlfriends first time watching me play too.” Mina’s head snaps back to yours, and you stare back at her nervously. You didn’t want her knowing, but it looks like the cats out of the bag. Thanks a lot.

“You’re nervous because I’m gonna be there?” She asks, brows furrowed in concern.

“No.” You say rather too quickly, but Mina already knows through your shifty eyes and hesitant voice.

“Y/n-”

“Okay! Maybe I am, but it’s normal right?” You say so you don’t worry her.

“Why are you nervous? It’s just me.” She places her hand on your shoulder reassuringly, causing you to look at her.

“That’s the thing.” You state, and she gives you a questioning look. “I didn’t want to worry you, cause I am going to get hurt.” Something goes off in the young Ravenclaw’s eyes, and you could see that your words bothered her. Mina hated seeing anyone getting hurt, especially ever since you came into her life. Last week you got a paper cut from reading, and she literally brought you to the nurse’s wing. You were embarrassed to say the least, but you went along with it after seeing the look of worry in her eyes.

“Look-” you cup her face into the palm of your hands as you stare back and fourth into her eyes. You could care less if your friends were giving you looks, cause all that mattered in this moment was her. “You can’t protect me from everything. You have to know that.”

“I-I know. I just-” Mina doesn't finish as she swallows her words. You already knew what she was going to say without her having to say it.

“I know.” You kiss the top of her forehead, and she sighs into you.

“Just be careful.” Her words come out in a whisper for only you to hear, and it makes you smile.

“I will.” Once you pull away from her, you continue eating. You engage in a ridiculous conversation with Chaeyoung about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She went on about how every year there seems to always be someone new. Somewhere along the lines, you thought you heard her say she liked one of them, but you didn't comment on it as someone called your name. Tackling your side, you feel one of your teammates pull you in a headlock.

"There's our big star. You ready?" It was Lucas, one of the Beaters. He always tries keeping you safe from Bludgers. At first, you two didn't get along til one day you were paired up for practice. It was a small step in your friendship, and ever since then you trust him to keep you safe.

"Ready as I'll ever be." You chuckle nervously. You didn't realize the group of Gryffindors he's gathered on his way to you til they erupted in cheers. It was always like this before a game. Even some of the freshman who were confused about what was going on still roared just as loud. You can't help but laugh as you turn back to Mina who was smiling at your wild group of members.

"Cheer for me?" You ask her. She smiles at you before taking your hand in hers.

"I'll be the loudest one in the stands." She tells you. She goes in to kiss your cheek but misses and hits the side of your mouth instead. It surprises her more than it does you because she was never one to initiate these things in front of your peers. But you were happy nonetheless and went in to kiss her on the lips. It was short but it lasted and it was enough.

It was daunting to you how quiet your team was in the locker room. They were always serious right before a match, but they were too serious it was quite frightening. Even your seniors were in their own worlds as the paced back and fourth in the red and gold room. They were usually the ones who were easing everyone's nerves, but not this time. They were just as nervous as everyone else was. You waited for what seemed like forever til one of the teachers came in and brought you out. They led you down the long hallway to the entrance of the arena. Everyone waited behind the closed gate, hearing the roars of every house out there. It made the atmosphere less stressful as they indulged themselves into the chants as if it were music to their ears. A moment later the gate opens and everyone gets on their brooms. With bated breath you wait til they announce your house and one by one you and your teammates are soaring into the air. The cheers are louder as you wave to each house. Both teams circle the arena to their respective sides and wait til the referee blows their whistle. They announce both teams captains, and go over the rules once again. As you sit in front of the goal, you scan over the blue and silver stands as you search for her. You see Mina in the front, cupping her hands around her mouth. You could barely hear what she's saying but you could tell by the form of her lips.

"Good luck!"

The whistle blows and the game begins. The Quaffle is thrown into the air, and you see Lucas grab it first. A roar is heard from the Gryffindor house, but the other team doesn’t let up. For a moment, you watch and wait as you defend your teams goal. Back and fourth, you see Lucas and your other teammates score points every now and then, it almost made you forget about the Bludgers. One hurdles straight towards your head, and you duck, causing it to go back around to the other team.

Mina gasps in the stands as she watched what happened, and is relieved that it didn’t hit you. She screams even louder cheering for you, but you can’t hear her at this point.

Lucas comes around with his stick in his hand to fight off the Bludgers. He gives you a knowing nod, as he was referring to your new strategy you two came up with. You nod your head, and watch as he dips back into the arena. One of the Slytherin members was heading toward your goal with the Quaffle in hand. You notice Lucas close behind, and you wait for them to score. They go to the far left ring, and you barely managed to stop them as you hit the leather ball back, and it ends up in Lucas’s hands. He goes around and scores a point, and the crowd cheers.

It goes back and fourth for a while, with your team in the lead, and Slytherin just a few points behind. Finally, your seeker finds the Golden Snitch, and you watch them race to catch it with the other teams seeker. You only get a glimpse of it every now and then in the game, as you brought your focus back to the Slytherin who was hurdling a Bludger your way. You were able to move as it flew right by you, but it came circling back. You were distracted by the loud cheers as you scanned the stands once again to look back at her because you wanted to let her know that you were okay.

The smile on Mina’s face vanishes, and she’s yelling something to you, but you don’t hear her. Before you could process anything, you’re being knocked off your broom by a Bludger, spiraling down the goals ring and hitting your head against the metal bar. The screams and the cheers grow distant as you hit the sand beneath you. You hear the faint sound of a whistle, and see your teammates rushing to your aid. Black spots spiral your vision, and you could barely hear anything as your eyelids close shut, and the distant call of your name rings in your ears.

You wake up to a throbbing pain in your head. Your legs feel like lead, and you couldn’t feel your own body. Slowly flickering your eyes open, you see all your friends hovering over you. They look at you with gloomy expressions, and you wonder if you lost the game.

“What happened?” You ask to no one in particular. You already knew you were in the hospital wing at the familiar scent of horrible remedy potions and other medicines. Lucas comes around and he explains that a Slytherin purposefully aimed for a Bludger to knock you down. By the time you fell, the game was over and no one won.

“It was a pretty nasty fall.” The captain tells you. “You have a concussion so you’re gonna be staying in here for a while.” You could care less if you had to sit out a game or two. All you wanted to know was where your girlfriend was in this moment as you scanned the faces of people surrounding you. Lucas could tell you were getting antsy at the absence of her presence, so he told everyone to leave so you could rest some more. Each of your friends give you gifts and ‘get well’ sweets to make you feel better before they leave. Once the last person was out the door, Lucas tells you where she is.

“She’s at the library. She couldn’t stand being in here while you were unconscious, so she went to go study to distract her. I’ll tell her that you’re awake.” He says. You thank him as he gets up to leave, and a nurse comes in to check on you.

Night was starting to fall, and you wondered where Mina was. It’s been hours since Lucas left, and she still hasn’t come to see you. You were sure she didn’t want to see you because you told her that you wouldn’t get hurt. Yet here you with a concussion and a broken rib. The nurse told you it’ll take a while for it to heal completely, but you should be fine within two weeks or so.

You were just starting to fall asleep when the doors open, and your eyes immediately lock with Mina. You sit up through the pain in your chest as you greet her.

“Hey.” You’re scared that she’ll turn away or she’ll break up with you. Whatever she was about to say, you were not prepared for. “I-” She doesn’t let you finish as she brings her arms around her neck.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She says through a whispered breath. You could tell she was trying her hardest not to cry as you felt her shaking arms around you. When you bring up your own arms, you wince in pain.

“Easy there.” You laugh to hide the pain in your throat. Mina is quick to release you, and you fall back against the headboard of the bed.

“Sorry.” She sniffles once, and asks how you’re feeling.

“I could be better.” You tell her. You could tell that she was holding back her words as she shifted where she stood. You motioned her to sit next to you as you raised the blanket that was covering you. She was hesitant at first before complying and scooted next to you. As small as the bed was, it was still enough for the both of you to fit onto. She settled next to you with her shoulder rubbing against your own, and her leg touching yours. You both were still and quiet for a moment til her hand somehow found its way into yours. Her index finger reached out to the back of your hand, and instinctively, your fingers wrapped themselves around her own.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you sooner.” She admits. You both were desperately trying to distract yourselves by watching your hands fondle the other.

“It’s okay. It was probably really scary having to witness it all.” Mina doesn’t say anything, and you’re worried she’s thinking way too hard on what to say. You’re about to change the topic until she leans her head on your shoulder. Your thumb stops stroking the back of her hand as she sighs into you to deepen the intimacy.

“It was scary.” She finally says. “But you were really brave, and seeing you play moved something in me. It made me think; Wow. How can someone look so intense and yet so beautiful at the same time?” Her words make your heart flutter, and you squeeze her hand tighter in response. Mina scoots closer to you if it were possible, and you could feel her leg twitch against yours.

“Y/n?” Your name came out in sighs from her lips as she straightened her posture to look at you.

“Yeah?” You swallow a feeling of nerves as she traces you into her. For a moment you think she will kiss you, but she doesn’t.

“I think I get why you like Quidditch so much.” Her response isn’t at all what you thought it would be, and you’re confused where this conversation is going.

“How is that?”

“It’s the same as me liking you. You don’t know when you’ll get hurt, but you’re sure it’ll happen.” Her words strike you as if she thinks she’ll get hurt being in a relationship with you. But she makes no indication that she wants to tear herself away from you, nor does she further her advances. The thing about Mina to you was that she was really hard to read sometimes. Often than most, you could read her like a book, knowing what she’d want and when she’d want it, but at times like this you couldn’t tell. She was unpredictable, and it seemed to have you on edge.

“I’ll never hurt you.” You stare into her eyes, hoping that she knows, and she does because she trusts you.

“I know. But I can’t bear seeing you get hurt either-” she places her hand atop your cheek. “But I’d like to stick around. Just like when you win a match, it’s rewarding for me being with you.”

“You got it all wrong.” You tell her. “I’m the one who should be lucky. I’m just some dumb jock. You’re the smartest person in our year. It’s remarkable that you even like me.” You stare at her with anticipation, and she stares back with the same content. She shakes her head at you before leaning in.

“You’re so stupid.” She says right before kissing you. It seemed that the whole world stopped for a moment, but she pulled away in a matter of seconds. Her lips retracting from your own, as if you could still feel her bottom lip between your parted ones. Your tongue darts out to relieve the sensation, and Mina gulped at your action.

“Maybe I am. I’m stupidly falling for you.” You confess. She doesn’t seem to register your words as she stares at you for a moment. When it hits her, her cheeks turn pink, and her eyes widen.

“Wait, really?” Her question sounds so small, and you smile and place your lips back on hers for confirmation. She gently places her hands on your stomach, and you wince when you feel the added pressure to your ribs.

“Oh my god, I totally forgot you’re injured.” You chuckle as she quickly retracts her hand, but you grab her wrist reassuringly.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You tell her. Even you forgot about your bruises and broken rib for a moment because she was just so enthralling that made you forget. But Mina doesn’t seem convinced now that she’s actually taking in the fact that there’s a slight bruise above your eyebrow, and how the bandages around your stomach are slightly showing through your nightgown. Her lips form like a puppy’s and you can’t help but laugh.

“Stop pouting!” You exclaim. “I’ll be fine.” When you pull her into you, she wraps her arms carefully, this time, around your torso. She indulges into the hug a moment longer before finally pulling away. You watch as she carefully gets up, and pulls the blanket back up to you.

“You should get some rest now.” She places a kiss to your temple, and as she turns around you stop her.

“But I don’t want you to go.” You look at her pleadingly, but you both know she has to go back to her dorm.

“I don’t want to go either.” She sighs. “But I have to. I’ll be back and see you first thing in the morning.” Your hand falls back onto the bed, and Mina’s stare lingers on you for a minute. She ponders what to do to make you feel satisfied before she goes, and settles on kissing you one more time. It’s sweet and longer than the first time she initiated it. Her hands cups your face, and her thumb strokes your cheek. When she pulls away, you’re chasing her for more relief, but she stops you and pushes you back. “Rest.” She tells you. You huff, annoyed, but comply anyway. Once you’re settled back in, she takes that chance to leave, and you watch her go. As you sink into the familiar feeling of sleep, you can’t help but bite your lip as the taste of her still lingers.

[val-kay-rie]

how the cards fall [quentin beck x reader]

summary: two different people on opposing sides with the same objective; make the other fall in love with them. 

word count: 2281

warnings: far from home spoilers!! and slight cursing bc of nick fury smh

a/n: ah, here we are again. it is confirmed that quentin beck owns my ass now, and honestly i’m not even surprised. i would also apologize in advance because i suck at updating, but for now.. enjoy! 

GIF not mine!

“Sir, we’ve been thinking..” William started on behalf of the team.

“What?” Quentin quickly asked in return.

The short-statured man glanced at his teammates and, with a nod from Guterman, continued, “We were thinking on how to humanize you more.”

“Humanize me?” was the response William received, “Our poor hero has already lost his family, what else are you suggesting? We’re days away from our first Elemental attack.”

“We were thinking you could expand on that,” Guterman stated, “You lost your spouse, but what if you re-met them on this Earth?”

This sparked the interest of the man in the motion-capture suit, and he urged them to go on, “I’m listening.”

“It’d be an easy addition - to feign affections for someone,” William elaborated, “And if it were to be someone in SHIELD--”

“I’d have someone on the inside if things go south,” Quentin completed, William nodding in agreement. A wicked grin grew upon Quentin’s face as he said, “Well this is brilliant, boys.”

William and Guterman let out a sigh of relief and smiled at one another in excitement as Quentin began to brainstorm, “We have to be careful with this, it can’t just be the next agent I meet. We’ll have to research someone, study them.”

“Who’s Fury likely to call to Europe?” Guterman thought aloud.

William suggested, “Maria Hill?”

“Too risky, she’d never let her walls down,” Quentin shot down, “We need someone that’ll open up emotionally.”

“Agent Johnson?”

“Fury wouldn’t call her out overseas.”

“Agent L/N?”

“L/N, Stark’s friend right?” Quentin inquired. 

“Yes sir, even attended the funeral,” William confirmed.

“That creates the perfect emotional vulnerability we need,” Quentin told the others, “And if they’re calling the kid in to give him EDITH, L/N would be a good incentive for him to stick around. They’ve known each other a while, Stark’s death only brought them closer.”

William and Guterman exchanged a look before William carefully asked, “We found the one, didn’t we?”

“We found the one,” Quentin confirmed with a smirk, “Find out everything there is to know about Y/N L/N.”

---

“I’ve seen better,” you told Fury after you stepped out of the car, Dimitri getting out of the driver’s seat behind you. You hadn’t seen the man in front of you since attending Tony and Natasha’s funerals, yet your first reaction was to lighten the air.

Fury gazed around at the makeshift base that they had created and with a small, quiet laugh said, “We’re making do.”

You let out a laugh and said, “It’s good to see you, Nick.”

“It’s good to see you too, agent,” Fury genuinely replied.  

Fury led you through the tunnels and to the pop-up SHIELD base that they established in Venice for the time being. You walked and talked, “What are we dealing with this time?”

“More creatures from another world, can you believe it?” 

You scoffed and remarked, “Just another day at the office.”

Fury gave you a knowing look as you arrived at the center of the base. You spotted Maria Hill and nodded at each other as a greeting as Fury led you over to someone new. Their back was currently turned to you, so all you saw was the long, draping cape as Fury said, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to. Meet Quentin Beck, Beck this is--”

“Y/N?” Quentin whispered, almost inaudibly. His eyes, that were full of shock, looked you over up and down, taking in each and every inch of you. His wide blue eyes met yours and, while his were filled with disbelief, yours were filled with nothing but confusion. He took a breath and composed himself, “My apologies. Agent L/N, it’s a pleasure.”

Quentin held out a hand for you to shake and you cautiously took it, still completely baffled as to why he reacted the way that he did upon seeing you. You couldn’t understand the longing look in his eyes, and were relieved when Fury cleared his throat and carried, “Beck is here to help deal with Earth’s new friends.”

“New friends?” you asked both Fury and the man in front of you for clarification.

“We called them Elementals,” Quentin informed you, and it was in that moment that he realized he still had a grip on your hand. He glanced at your hands for a brief moment, then reluctantly let go and told you, “Sorry again.”

Quentin then began to explain everything to you, and you half paid attention as your mind began to slowly drift. Why did this man act so peculiar towards you? 

Your complete attention was regained when Quentin spoke of the catastrophe the Elementals had brought to his world. The stakes were incredibly high and you couldn’t deny the fact that it made you nervous.

“The Elementals cost me everything. It’s because of them I’ve lost my whole world, my friends,” Quentin’s eyes found yours again as he softly said, “my family.”

You quickly broke the eye contact and gazed at the holographic display in front of you. When you dared to steal a glance at Quentin, you could see him mindlessly fiddling with a ring on his finger. A ring that you could only assume was a wedding band.

This, combined with the odd introduction, was a bit unsettling to you. Your mind couldn’t help but leap to all kinds of different assumptions, you were nearly convinced that you and Quentin had known each other on his world. And knew each other well, at that. 

“The next attack is happening here in Venice in two days,” Hill informed you.

“So what’s the game plan?” you asked, looking towards her and Fury as you deliberately tried to avoid any more eye contact with Quentin.

“I’ve dealt with these things before,” Quentin said, “so I should be able to deal with them again.”

Fury added, “Still, we’re trying to get Beck whatever backup we can, yet somehow everyone we know is other-wise occupied. Everyone, but Parker.”

“Peter?” you asked for verification. When receiving a nod, you went on, “Come on Fury, he’s just a kid.”

“A kid with remarkable powers that the world needs right now,” Fury responded. You gazed at the other two people currently in the little meeting, hoping that someone would see things from your point of view, but to no avail. 

Hill had seemed to have her mind made on the matter, and naturally she saw eye to eye with Fury and took his stance. You couldn’t really say you were all that surprised, but you were still hoping she’d understand.

Quentin looked at you with nothing but sympathy, and you were really hoping that the new and spectacular hero would realize this wasn’t the most ethical of ideas. He remained silent, and you couldn’t say you were surprised here either considering he didn’t even know Peter.

Fury could sense your uneasiness about the situation, nodded his head towards the direction of more tunnels in this dark underground base, and said, “Walk with me, L/N.”

You let out a sigh and did as you were told, starting off towards the direction Fury had pointed out. Quentin’s eyes never left yours as you exited the area, something that both you and Fury couldn’t help but notice. 

As soon as you were out of earshot to Hill and Quentin you said, “I get that Peter’s powers as Spider-Man are amazing, but at the end of the day he’s just 16-year-old high schooler in need of a break.”

“And I understand that,” Fury said as you realized he was walking you the out the way you came in, “I also understand that this is a global threat and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

An audible exhale left your lips before you admitted, “I just don’t want to see anything happen to him.” 

“Which is exactly why I called you out here. Help Parker, watch his back, make him feel more comfortable,” Fury instructed. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re trying to get Peter here when Beck seems to have everything under control,” you told him.

“Because I don’t completely trust Beck,” Fury confessed.

You two made it back outside and underneath the night sky as you asked, “Why not?”

“Everything about this situation and about him almost seems too perfect, too good to be true.”

You joked, “Why? Because he listens to you?”

“Because nothing seems to falter him,” Fury said, “or, at least nothing did.”

“What do you mean?” you asked for clarification, though you were a bit nervous to hear his response.

“The man had no weakness, could take down these damn creatures in a matter of minutes,” Fury replied, “Then you show up and literally take his breath away.”

“What are you saying here, Fury?”

“It’s evident that you and Beck knew each other on his world, and we can use that to our advantage,” he explained. 

You were a bit confused as you recited, “Our advantage?”

Fury said, “If the man doesn’t have a weakness, we’ll give him one.”

You hesitated before you stated, “I’m not sure I’m entirely following you, sir.”

“You need to let Beck in. Make him trust you, confide in you, make him believe you’ll always be there in the end,” you were told.

“You want me to make him love me, the way he loved me on his world,” you realized, softly saying this statement aloud as your mind wrapped around what the man in front of you was asking. 

“If that’s what it takes, so be it. We need a contingency plan, and that contingency is you.”

Several thoughts raced inside your mind, all pertaining to the same general ideas: There is no way you could pull this off. There has to be someone better qualified. There has to be a more effective contingency that doesn’t involve messing with his emotions.

“With all due respect sir, are we sure this is the best route? I can’t make someone fall in love with me,” you expressed your worries, “I’m no Natasha.”

“Which is a considerable advantage in your case,” Fury reminded you. “We’re out of options here, agent.”

You looked away from Fury and gazed up at the stars for a brief moment, letting out a deep sigh of realization. The truth was, you didn’t have a choice in the matter and had to follow orders. 

When you glanced back at Fury, the smug look on his face made it evident his thoughts mirrored yours. You caved, “Alright, where am I staying?”

---

Dimitri dropped you off at a rather nice hotel, much to your delight. You went to the room that Fury instructed and pulled out the key card he had handed you out of your pocket, before holding it up the doorknob and being met with a satisfying beep that was accompanied by a small green light. 

You stepped into your temporary living space, shutting the door behind you as you dropped your bag on the ground. Careful feet walked across the room as it was late, but the view outside of the window was calling your name. After gently pushing the sheer curtains out of the way, the beautiful city of Venice came into your sight. 

A small smile of content reached your face because, though you didn’t exactly like the circumstances that got you here, you were more than happy to see Italy. An idea popped into your head as you realized this may very well be the only moment of peace you’ll get in the country, so you decided you’d take advantage of that. 

Stepping away from the window, you made sure you had your phone and your keycard before heading towards the door, eager to get outside and explore the city while you had the chance. When you opened your door, you were met with an unexpected guest in the hall. 

Quentin had gotten out of his whole superhero costume and stood there in a maroon sweater and dark jeans with a keycard in his hand. His back was initially facing you before he heard your door open and turned around, making it evident to you he was staying in the room across the hall from you. Of course.

“Oh, um, hi,” you so poetically spoke. 

“Hey,” he said back with a smile, “Where are you headed?”

You put your hands in your pocket as you replied, “I was just gonna go walk around the city. Take it all in before things get crazy, ya know?”

“Oh yeah, I understand,” Quentin said, fidgeting with his keycard as he debating his next words, “You’re heading out there alone?”

“Yeah, well, this line of work starts to normalize solitude,” you spoke, suddenly growing nervous inside. 

“Let me come with you,” the man before you suggested. Before you were even able to protest, he continued, “Come on, it’s late at a night and you’re in a foreign city. I’m sure you can handle yourself but at the very least, it’d put my heart at ease if I accompanied you.”

Your eyes met his as you thought of ways to get out of your current situation, but then Fury’s words and your new objective came forward in your mind. You internally panicked because you knew a late-night stroll with the newly deemed hero would undoubtedly progress you in your mission, whether you actually wanted his company or not.

You held back a reluctant sigh and opted for a slight smile instead before telling Quentin, “That sounds great.”

“Wonderful,” he grinned back at you, before slipping his keycard back in his pocket. He gestured out to towards the elevator at the end of the hall and said, “After you.”

---

thanks for reading | masterlist | part two coming... eventually 

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 76

It was the day of King Agustus Kira Clover’s twenty-fifth birthday. Along with the many royal events and celebrations that had been held throughout the week leading up to the day, the cities and towns, especially those within the noble realm had been gearing up for massive feasts and festivals.  Not only was it required that the entire kingdom celebrate the day; but since it had only been about a month since peace had been made with the Diamond Kingdom the people were happy and looking for reason to celebrate.  The returning Magic Knights had fully returned order to the kingdom and though there were still gangs, theft, and violence; peace and safety within the townships had, for the most part, be restored.

The Magic Knights had another reason to celebrate.  Today's War Merits Conferment Ceremony was more than the usual promotion ceremony as a new Captain for the Purple Orcas was being conferred. This meant every Purple Orca and any available Magic Knight, whether they were being promoted or not, was required to be present.

The typical gathering afterwards was a bit atypical as it was outside. The room they usually met in being prepared for the evenings celebration.

“Stop whining, Jack.”  Yami told his friend.

“I’m not whining, you muscle headed idiot.”  Jack said.

Ignoring him, Yami went on.  “You want to blame someone.  Blame yourself. Do better.”  He saw Fuegoleon coming up to join them and gestured to the Vermillion.  “You don’t hear the Lion Cub crying about his lower rank, do you?”

“I never cry.”  Fuegoleon said, violet eyes narrowing at the Black Bull.

Yami looked over at Teris.  He hadn’t minded her out ranking him.  In fact he had rather enjoyed it when she used her rank to get what she wanted when they were alone together.  That said, he was glad to once again hold the same rank as her.  And to think that not long ago they had been taking on every mission that had come in to try to reach Third Class Senior so they could be of a rank that allowed them to be made Vice Captain's in Bronn’s place.  And now here they both were Second Class Senior Magic Knights and still two full months left before Bronn retired to marry Gilly.

Yami hadn’t done many missions without Teris after peace with the Diamond Kingdom, so he wasn’t exactly sure what and why he had been promoted for.  Maybe a combination of that along with his work during the war?  Hell, maybe Greywright had told Sir Jorah that he had dealt with assassins along with the enemy combatants everyone else had faced during the war.  In any case, Yami was glad to be one step closer to reaching Grand Magic Knight and becoming Captain of his own squad. He smiled thinking back to his boyhood dream of being the leader of a gang and marrying the princess.  Even after he had met Teris and become a Magic Knight it had seemed so far fetched.  Now here he was, two promotions away from becoming a leader of his own squad, and two years away from marrying his Princess.

“What are you smiling about?”  Teris asked Yami, wearing a smile on her own simply from how happy he looked.

“What? I can’t smile at you now?”  Yami teased. He saw William across the lawn.  The back of his hand brushed Teris’ arm, the closest he was currently allowed to get to touching her with others around.  “Be back in a bit.”

Teris watched Yami head off, grateful he hadn’t called the Golden Dawn member over.  With his uncalled for teasing the last time she had seen William during the Vice Captain's training day at the Black Bulls base she wasn’t in the mood to speak to him just yet.

“You can leave too, Jack.”  Teris dismissed.

Jack cackled.  “You really don’t like me.  Do you?”

Teris chafed at the sound of the Green Mantis’ laugh.  “We established that long ago.  Goodbye.”

“Teris.” Fuegoleon scolded.

“You want him to stick around?  Fine.  You enjoy talking to the creepy towering twig.”  Teris turned and walked away.

Jack grinned widely.  “She is a feisty one.  It’s easy to see why Yami likes her.  Still don’t get what she sees in him though.”

“You and me both.”  Fuegoleon muttered.  Realizing that he was speaking with Jack about his cousin and her romantic dealings, he cleared his throat and straightened.  “Excuse me.”  He made his way to Zara Ideale who stood by a statue, apart from everyone else. The Crimson Lion looked up at the statue.  “The Breaking Staff.”

Zara turned.  “Pardon?”

“The name of the staff the Third Wizard King is holding.”  Fuegoleon said, eyes turning to the Magic Knight.

“Sorry. I didn’t even realize I was standing near the Third Wizard Kings statue.”  Zara said.

“Well it does bare a striking resemblance to the eighth Wizard Kings statue.”  Fuegoleon said with a hint of a smirk.

It took Zara a moment to figure out that the Crimson Lion was joking with him.

“What are you doing over here all alone?  Don’t care for your new Captain?”  When Zara didn’t answer Fuegoleon apologized.  “I’m sorry.  That was rather forward of me.  I didn’t mean to pry.”

“The new Captain doesn’t much care for me.”  Zara confessed.

“Then he must not you very well.  I must admit I didn’t care for you much at first either.  But once I got to know you…  Well, let’s just say anyone who knows you would be incapable of disliking you.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. That really means so much to me.”

“Zara. We entered enemy territory together.  We were captured and faced possible death together.  You don’t have to call me, Your Highness.”

“Then what do I call you?”  Zara asked.  “You’re no longer an acting Vice Captain.”

Fuegoleon gave a light chuckle.  “I have a name.  Please, feel free to use it.”

Zara’s smile fell.  “Yes, sir?”

For a moment Fuegoleon thought the man was talking to him.  Then someone spoke from behind.

“Captain wants to see you, Ideale.”  Xerx informed, coolly.

Zara gave Fuegoleon a weak parting smile.  “Can you--”  He looked nervously at his fellow Purple Orca before taking something out of his shirt pocket. “Can you give Lady Teris this for me?  It’s from my son. She—she’ll understand.”

Fuegoleon took the threadbare cloth.  “Of course.  Hope to see you around soon, Zara.”

“I’d like that too.”  Zara said, giving the royal a small smile.

“As do I, Fuegoleon.”  Xerx said, stressing the name.

Fuegoleon turned giving the noble an icy look.  “Xerx.”

Xerx caught himself, his expression changing from antagonizing to subservient.  “Good day, Your Highness.” Xerx bowed quickly before turning and leading Zara away.

Fuegoleon looked down at the cloth he held.  From Zara’s son, he thought raising a brow.  Had Teris’ even met the boy?  What was he thinking?  Of course she had.  Someway, somehow she had met those important to her commoner friend and made them feel as important as she had made Zara feel.  It was a gift of hers.  He would’ve said it was a gift the Nova family had since Julius was the same.  But seeing as Fyntch had none of the same disarming kindness Julius and Teris had.  And Fuegoleon sadly didn’t remember enough about how Lord and Lady Nova were with those of lower status he couldn’t be sure.

Fuegoleon was tempted to open the cloth and see what it contained but chided himself.  He couldn’t do such a thing.  Not when he saw his cousin across the lawn speaking with Olsen and the Silver Eagles Vice Captain.

Joining the group Fuegoleon placed a hand on Teris’ back.  “Can I have a moment of your time?”

“We just saw each other.  Why didn’t you say what you had to then?” Teris asked.

Fuegoleon gave the other two Magic Knights a nod.  “Excuse us.  Vice Captain Kess.  Olsen.”

The Crimson Lion escorted his cousin a short distance away and handed her the cloth.

“What’s this?”  Teris asked.

“Zara asked me to give it to you.  Said it was from his son.”  Fuegoleon answered, the last bit coming out more as a question.

Teris looked about the lawn for Zara.

“He was called away by his new Captain.”  Fuegoleon informed, eyes the cloth.

“But it was suppose to be a trade.”  Teris said, disappointment clear. She opened the cloth revealing a thin multi-colored braided bracelet make of thread, and smiled.

Fuegoleon’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Zara and I happened across each other one day not too long before the war.”  Teris told her cousin, seeing his silent query.  “I don’t even remember what I was doing out in the area.  It wasn’t a mission though.  It was fairly late and Zara invited me to sup at his home which happened to be in the town I had just left.  That’s how at met Zora.  Cute little scamp of maybe nine or so.  He was making these bracelets to sell to the other village kids.  I asked him if I could buy one.  He said no but that if I gave him time he’d make one especially for me.  I told him if it was to be a true friend-bond bracelet that I’d have to make him one in exchange.  We shook on it and everything.”

“So you’re friend-bonded to Zara’s son?”  Fuegoleon smirked crookedly.

“Not yet.  I haven’t given Zora his bracelet yet.  A friend-bond is only made with a complete exchange.  You know how it works, Fuego.”

Fuegoleon chuckled remembering Teris and his exchange of bracelets when they were about seven or eight.  They had held some sort of ceremony in the woods, all solemn and formal like, just the two of them and the birds as witness’.

“Do you still have yours?”  Teris asked.

“I don’t know.”  Fuegoleon said, knowing exactly where the bracelet she had made him was.  “You?”

“It broke, which is why I quit wearing it but yeah.”  Teris nodded.  “I know where it is.”

“You’ve always been soft and sentimental.  Did you ever exchange one with Nozel?”  Fuegoleon asked.

“Me?” Teris shook her head.  “No.  Even back then I tried not to do anything that showed I thought too favorably of him.”

Fuegoleon’s smile fell slightly at that.  He wondered how different things would be, how much closer she and Nozel would be, if the Silva’s and Nova’s hadn’t announced their plans for their children.  Would Teris and Nozel be properly courting? He was sure that Nozel and Teris would be just as close as he and Teris were if there had never been a declaration of their parents intentions to see them wed. Fuegoleon sighed.  It didn’t matter what might have been, this was the way things were.

“I know you and Nozel did.”  Teris said.

“Yeah.” Fuegoleon nodded.

“Did you guys hold a ceremony too?”  Teris questioned.

“No.” Fuegoleon shook his head, recalling the ceremony he and Nozel had had.

The friend-bond ceremony Fuegoleon and Nozel had held together had been different from the one he and Teris had.  The two royal boys had promised that while they may not always stay close friends that they wouldn’t let their rivalry ruin their friendship.  That no matter what, they would help the other support and defend the Clover Kingdom and its people from all adversaries.

“I suppose you don’t know where that bracelet is either.”  Teris said, knowing better.

“Not a clue.”  Fuegoleon said.

“It’s right next to the one I gave you, isn’t it.”  Teris said, eyes dancing.

Fuegoleon's posture straightened, his chin lifting slightly.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure.” Teris drawled wrapping the bracelet around her left wrist.

“What are you doing!”  Fuegoleon questioned.

“What does it look like?  I’m putting it on.”  Teris answered.

“You can’t do that.”  Fuegoleon stressed.  “That’s not how it works.  It won’t be binding.”

Teris smiled up at her cousin.  “It’ll be alright, Fuego.”

“I told you to stop calling me that childish nickname.”

“Stop acting like at child and maybe I will.”  Teris teased.

“You two arguing, again.”  Nozel sighed, stepping beside them.  “Is that why you’re tucked over here away from everyone else?”  His eyes fell on the bracelet Teris was holding around her wrist. “What’s this?”  He questioned, raising a brow, smirking.

“From Zara’s kid.”  Fuegoleon explained for her.

“Are you giving him one in return?”  Nozel asked in amusement.

“Of course.”  Teris answered as if the Silver Eagles query was needless and silly.

“Then you should wait.”  Nozel told her.  “It doesn’t work unless they’re put on at the same time.

“That’s what I told her.”  Fuegoleon said.

Teris looked between the men.  “Children.  Really?”

Nozel stepped in front of her.   “It’s fine.  I’d much rather if you didn’t bind yourself in friendship to some common boy anyway.  Let me see.”

Teris stepped back.  “What?”

“Your wrist.”  Nozel gripped her forearm.  “You can’t tie it properly one handed.  It’ll loosen and fall off.  You don’t want to upset the boy by loosing his token of friendship.  Do you?”

Teris relaxed.  She turned her arm in his hold, palm side up, and handed Nozel the bracelet.

Nozel eyed her a moment before taking the woven treads and wrapping them around her wrist.  There was a certain method to tying binding bracelets and he fumbled, tying, untying, and retying a couple times as he tried to remember how it how it was done.

“You and I never did this as kids, did we?”  Nozel asked as he worked, remembering all too clearly that they hadn’t.

Back then Nozel had offer his bracelet in friendship to Teris not so much because they had been great friends at the time; but because he had thought it was the polite and expected thing for him to do as her Intended.  Teris had sharply refused.  Stung, Nozel had told her that he didn’t need to be friends with his wife anyway.  Even back then Teris had been adamant that she wasn’t going to marry him.  Nozel recalled telling her that she was a stupid girl and not a very good or well mannered girl at that.  For that Teris had shoved him to the ground and told him he wasn’t all that good a being a boy.  He had glared up at her and told her he hated her, and swore to himself that he always would.

“Nope.” Teris said, smirking at the same memory.

“You’re not going to shove me to the ground today are you?”  Nozel asked, giving up the pretense that he had forgotten.

“So long as you don’t call me a stupid girl.”  Teris grinned.

“No promises.  The day’s still young.  There.”  Nozel said, finishing the knot his hands still gently clasped around her wrist.

The lingering hold wasn’t missed by Teris who pulled her hand free and examined his handy work.  “Not bad.”

“I didn’t tie many of those.  Surprised I remembered how.”  Nozel admitted.

In fact Nozel had only tied one before now.  Not that others hadn’t offered their bracelet in friendship.  But he, like Teris had done to him, had smartly refused, finding the other children unworthy.  He was the heir to the second highest ranking House in the kingdom. Even now, there were only two people Nozel was open and welcoming enough with to have and consider as friends.  Standing with the both of them now, sharing childhood memories, Nozel felt content.  Too bad it was quickly ruined by Venice’s arrival.

“These guys harassing you?”  Venice asked, coming beside Teris and throwing an arm around her shoulder.  She gave Nozel a look that clearly told him to back up.

“Be nice.”  Teris chided.  “It’s a good day.  Especially for the Black Bulls.  Yami, you, Gendry, and Bran all got a promotion.”

“Not that Abril's all that pleased.”  Venice said, looking across the lawn at the tomboyish girl who stood sullenly next to Gendry.

“If she doesn’t like Gendry getting another promotion she’ll have to work harder.”  Teris said, simply.

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s too pleased about that either.”  Venice commented.  “For the longest time she out ranked Gendry.  Heck, for the longest time Gendry showed no interest in his job as a Magic Knight.”

“That sounds almost like a boast.”  Fuegoleon said with disapproval.

“Boast or not, it’s the truth.  Now Gendry’s a Fourth Class Intermediate Magic Knight and Abril’s still a Second Class Junior.  Captain wants to see you.”  Venice told Teris.

“You could have led with that.”  Teris told.

76.2

“You gonna be wearing that fancy get up all evening?”  Yami asked watching Teris descend the stairs into the great room.

“Mana, no!  As soon as it’s acceptable for me to leave the royal ball I’ll be changing out of this.”  Teris told.

Yami looked her over smirking.  He didn’t understand the ranking men's obsession with making their women wear such things.  Sure such dresses afforded a nice view, he thought admiring Teris’ bust.  But the voluminous skirts hid her legs and rear which he enjoyed looking at when Teris was in her regular garb.  Outfitting a woman in such a get up left her uncomfortable and unable to move about with quickness and ease, leaving her all but defenseless.  Though that alone might be why the royal and noblemen liked their women in such clothes, so they could play the hero and get an ego boost.

“I just can’t believe Jax said you and I had to go to the celebration at Headquarters.”  Teris complained.

“Think how much more will be expected of you when we’re Vice Captain’s.” Yami said.

“You mean of us.”  Teris said.

“As if Jax would expect much of anything from me.”  Yami toyed.

Bronn entered the great room.  “Alright you pack of losers.  Who’s needing to get to Castle City?  I gotta be at the Healers thing early for Gilly and I’m not coming back.  So, unless you wanna fly we’re leaving now.  Yami.  You’re coming with me.  Jax said he wants you and Black Sheep at the bash at Headquarters.”  The Vice Captain turned to Teris and paused.  “I forget how well you clean up, Black Sheep.  Remind me again why you’re with that one.”  He gestured to Yami.  “Even if you weren’t royal you could do so much better.”

“I’d appreciate the transport to Castle City, thanks.”  Teris said, ignoring the rest.

“Already in that proper and courteous persona you’re forced to use around the nobility, eh?  Maybe Jax should’ve brought a noble into the squad just to keep you nice and behaved all the time.”  Bronn said.

Bran raced down the stairs just a Bronn was opening a portal.

“Where do you think you’re going, Boy?”  Bronn asked.

Bran stopped and deflated.

“He’s with me.”  Yami said, having mercy on the kid.  Bran hadn’t fought in the war per say, but he had been invaluable as a spy.  The Magic Knights had been too busy restoring order to the Clover Kingdom to enjoy the any of the celebrations of peace.  This was the first real chance they had to let loose and in Yami’s eyes Bran deserved that just the same as the rest of them.

Bronn’s eyes narrowed.  “Anything happens to the boy and it’s on you.”

Gendry gave Yami a look of sympathy.  Tobin shook his head as he passed through the portal with Venice.

Bran turned and looked up at Yami.  “Thank--”

Yami shoved Bran through the gateway, following after.

Teris passed through the portal, appearing in Castle City just in time to hear Yami tell Bran.

“Go your own way and leave me alone.  If you get into trouble or die, I’ll kill you.”

Bran swallowed and nodded.

“Don’t you just love the way Yami shows that he cares.”  Tobin teased.

“Shut up.  Or I’ll kill you right now.”  Yami told.

Yami looked over at Teris.  He wasn’t sure what he would do during his wait till Teris got out of the festivities at the Royal Castle; but he was sure he could find something to keep himself entertained.

“Try not to get into too much trouble.”  Bronn told the group, closing the portal and making for Healers Hall.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?”  Tobin offered Yami one last time.

“Positive.” Yami said sounding annoyed for having to answer the question a third time.

“Alight then.”  Tobin said, taking Venice’s hand and walking off.

Gendry hadn’t stopped walking since passing through the portal and was already some distance down the busy street.

Yami looked back at Bran who was still hanging around.  “Scram.”

Bran took off.

“It was nice of you to speak up so he wasn’t stuck at home.”  Teris said.

Yami shrugged a shoulder.  “How else is the kid going to grow if he isn’t let out to live a little.”

“Hate to say it, but Bronn’s right.  Try not to get into too much trouble.”  Teris said.

“I never try to get into trouble.”  Yami said putting his hands in his pockets least he grab hold of her.

“Liar.” Teris huffed, the two walking in the direction of the Royal Palace. “There have been plenty of times when you did something you knew you’d get in trouble for.  Too numerous to count actually.”

“Doing something even though you know you’ll get in trouble isn’t that same as trying to get into trouble.”  Yami said.

“Yes. It pretty much is.”  Teris laughed.

“Pretty much the same isn’t the same as being one and the same.”  Yami toyed.

“Why is it that you always have to have it your way?”  Teris asked.

“Cause it works for me and I like it.  Thought you liked it too.”  Yami said, giving her a desirous look.

Teris met his gaze and blushed.  “Occasionally.”

“Only occasionally?”  Yami asked. his forward steps inching to the side nearer to her until his arm was brushing hers as they walked.

Teris took in a shuddering breath, the teasing touch causing her skin to prickle.

Yami looked at her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the reaction he had caused in her.

“Lady Nova.”  A man greeted bowing as he and the two women with him came across them at an intersection.

“Lord and Lady Roselei, Charlotte.”  Teris greeted the noble family.

Charlotte blanched at the sight of Yami.  She, like Teris and Captain Mereoleona, was accustomed to having to wear gowns for societal occasions.  And though the royal and noble Magic Knights had seen her in those gown at such events, they were tactful enough not to make fun.  Yami Sukehiro on the other hand had proved himself far from tactful.

“Headed to the Kings celebration as well, my Lady?”  Lord Roselei asked.

“Yes.” Teris answered.

Yami took in Charlotte’s parents finding it easy to see where she got her strength and prideful bearing from.

“Please, my Lady, allow me to escort you.”  Lord Roselei offered.  “No need for your… comrade,” he said uncertainly wondering what a lady of Teris’ rank was doing with such a rough looking man, “to see you safely to the bridge gates.”  He had seen the Black Bulls emblem on the young mans cloak; but as he got a better look at him, he found himself doubting such a man was truly a Magic Knight.

“No need.”  Lord Silva said, he and his three eldest children coming down the path from the opposite side of the intersection the Roselei’s had come.  “We will gladly escort Lady Teris.  Won’t we, Nozel.”

“Your Highness.”  Lord Roselei turned to the royal giving a low bow, his wife and daughter curtsying.

“Lord Silva will suffice, Roselei.”  Nathyn allowed.  His eyes flicked to Yami, taking in how close he stood to his sons Intended.  He wondered if the foreigner simply refused to learn or was incapable of learning.  Then again after three failed attempts, Nathyn could hardly fault the young man for feeling invincible and free to do as he pleased.

After Leonidas’ threat, Nathyn would have to bide his time before acting again.  After three failed attempts it was clear another tactic was required anyway.  Given the reasoning for the first attempts failure, he wondered who had attacked Yami and Teris on the road from Silva Manor.  Was it possible there were others who wanted Yami Sukehiro dead too?  It wouldn’t surprise Nathyn if there were several such groups.

Nozel moved closer to Teris, offering her his hand.  As soon as she placed her hand atop his, he pressed a thumb over her fingers and gently but firmly guided her a proper pace away from Yami all the while glaring at the foreigner.  It was more than Yami’s nearness to Teris that bothered him, though that did play a rather large part.  It was the fact that after his father had made a second attempt on Yami’s life, Yami still chose to walk so close to Teris knowing it was improper and word would back to the Silva patriarch.

Nozel knew Yami was unknowing of courtly manners and couldn’t care less what people thought about him.  But for Teris’ sake Nozel would have figured that the fool would at least make an effort.  Maybe Yami didn’t care for Teris as much as any of them thought.  Maybe when the time came, it wouldn’t be all that difficult to get Teris to forget about the foreigner.  Granted if Yami hurt her by breaking her heart, as much as Nozel would be glad their relationship had come to an end, he would make Yami rue the day he ever thought to toy with Teris.

Sharp blue eyes on Yami, Nathyn dismissed.  “You can go about whatever it is you do, Magic Knight.  Your duty to your betters is relieved.”

Hands on hips, Yami blew out a heavy puff of air.  “Well that’s a relief.”

Teris gave Yami a pleading look.  Yami rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  He knew her time at the castle with her fellows would be difficult and unpleasant.  He didn’t want to be the cause of that time being even worse.

Giving a tight smile, Yami looked at the royal who had sent groups to kill him.  “Lords and ladies.”  It was an effort not to take one last look at Teris as he took a step back and turned, walking away.

It killed Teris that there was nothing she could do.  Well there was plenty she could have done.  But it would have made a scene and caused her and Yami no end of problems.  And both Yami and Julius had been clear that they didn’t want her to do anything to jeopardize her freedom and place as a Magic Knight.  Still hoping against hope to make Magic Knights Commander before she went against Fyntch’s order to wed Nozel, she would rather not do anything to jeopardize her freedom and place as a Magic Knight either.

Nozel was both surprised and mildly impressed that Yami had walked away so peaceably.  His eyes slid to his father finding that the older man was carefully watching either him or Teris, or possibly the both of them.  Nozel leaned forward slightly, just enough to shield Teris from his father's view.

After finding out that Lord Silva was capable of ordering the death of an innocent man.  Innocent at least in the eyes of the law.  Who was also a high ranking Magic Knight.  Nozel began to wonder what other frightening deeds his father was capable of.  Since the day his father had called him to Silva Manor and told him of the group hired to kill Yami, Nozel had felt the need to keep Teris as far from his father as possible.

Upon entering the Royal Castle Nathyn made straight for the gentleman's lounge that was set away from the noise and ladies where the men could openly discuss, drink, and gamble.  Nozel’s younger brother eyed Charlotte.  Solid found her blonde hair and fair face beautiful, but her expression far too hard and sour to tempt him into acting the gentleman and offering the older girl his arm.  Seeing his cousin Kirsch entering the ball room, Solid left his siblings and followed. Nebra made for the ladies lounge to freshen up.  While Charlotte turned around and headed back outside.  Teris wished she could follow the Blue Rose, but she had to be seen.  Fyntch might have once again been sent out on a diplomatic mission, but he fully expected her to play her part.  She had to make sure enough eyes saw her that word would get back to her brother that she had actually been there.

“Drink or dance?”  Nozel asked Teris.  Her hand still rested atop his and he had to resist the urge to caress her fingers with a thumb.

“Drink. Please.”  Teris answered.

The corners of Nozel’s lips turned slightly upward at her expected response.  “My toes thank you.”

“That’s mean.”  Teris laughed, lightly.

“Am I wrong?  Have you miraculously learned how to dance?”  Nozel questioned.

Teris feigned offense.  “I know how to dance.  I’m just not all that good at it.”

“Forgive me for not making the distinction.”  Nozel played.

Teris allowed him to lead her to the banquet hall to the left of the grand hallway.  The room was set up with a bar, tables filled with finger food, and comfortable sitting areas throughout.

“What were you doing walking here?  Your family not in residence at Silva Castle this week?”  Teris inquired.

“They were.”  Nozel gave the bartender their order, pleased when Teris didn’t counter his order for her.  “They are.”  He corrected, leading her to an open sitting area, trusting that someone would bring them their beverages.

Nozel helped her sit on a love-seat and sat beside her making sure that there was six inches between them, the closest any courting couple was properly allowed to sit without chaperon.  Given Teris’ admitted lack in knowledge of courtly details, Nozel wondered if she even realized the significance of the spacing.  Then again it might be better for him if she didn’t.  He may have overreacted terribly in his misunderstanding the last time they were in the Royal Castle. But now that he knew what Mereoleona had told Teris, and benefited from how greatly Teris had taken Mereoleona’s words to heart, Nozel was loathed to see anything ruin it.

“Your Highness.”  A server appeared bearing their drinks on a tray.

Nozel took the crystal stems, offering one to Teris.  He was about to raise his glass to her in silent toast when the servant bowed.

“Is there anything else I can get Your Highness?  Some food perhaps?”

“Your absence.”  Nozel said, giving the man a cold pointed look.

The server bowed low once more and took a step back before turning and walking away.

“That was incredibly rude.  Even for you.”  Teris commented, lowering the glass from her lips.

“Sorry.” Nozel apologized, not sounding at all repentant.

“What’s with you?”  Teris asked.

“There’s a lot going on.”  Nozel admitted.  “I’m also taking back up the full load of my duties to the family.”

“Lord Nathyn have you fully managing a couple holdings on your own too?” Teris asked thinking of how proud Fuegoleon had been when Uncle Leonidas had entrusted him with such a task.

“A bit more than a couple.”  Nozel said trying not to sound bored or tired at the subject.  He hardly wanted to talk with Teris about all that, even if he had been the one to bring it up.  “You’re the only other person I know who drinks extra dry mead.”  He said, watching her take another sip.

“There’s got to be more who drink it than just the two of us.  Otherwise why would they still make it.”  Teris reasoned.

“It isn’t something they make much of, hence why it’s not always available even at royal function--”  Nozel’s words halted, his eyes catching sight of something.

“Nozel?” Teris questioned.

Nozel set down his drink and held out his hand.  “Let me see your hand.”

“Please.” Teris prompted.

Nozel looked at her and sighed in mild annoyance.  Even so he added the word.  “Please.”

Wondering what he wanted with it, Teris offered her right hand which hovered over his palm.

“The left.”  Nozel’s eyes lifted to hers.  “Please.”

Teris smirked at the belated courtesy.  She leaned forward setting her drink on the low table, freeing her left hand.  Nozel’s right hand clasped her fingers, his left holding her forearm.  Teris’ arm squirmed in his grasp finding his touch cool and tickling.

“Hold still.”  Nozel commanded his eyes lifting to pin her still.  

Nozel gave the tiniest smile of triumph when she ceased fidgeting without complaint or look of petulance.  He turned her hand over revealing the multi-colored thread bracelet that his eyes had caught sight of. The silver cuff Teris wore, probably to covered the thing, unable to fully hide the woven bracelet from view on the inside of her wrist.

Teris pulled her hand free, blushing at her sentimentality.  “And?”

“You are far too sweet.”  Nozel smirked.  He felt silly for partially viewing it as their friend-bond bracelet since he had been the one to tie it around her wrist.

Teris scowled playfully at him.  “And you’re--”

“Lovely evening isn’t it?”  William said cheerily, stepping to them.

Nozel and Teris looked up.  Neither appeared overly happy at the Golden Dawns presence.

William took in their expressions.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.  Only it looked like the moment you were sharing was over.”

“There was no moment.”  Teris said, wondering if William was looking to present this to Yami the same way he had the events surrounding her birthday.

Nozel turned his eyes from William to Teris thinking he would have begged to differ.

“You were holding hands.”  William commented.

“We weren’t holding hands.”  Teris told.

Again, Nozel wouldn’t have completely agreed but he wasn’t about to say anything along those lines.  Looking at the other man he asked.  “Can we help you, William?”

“I hope so.  The two of you will be leaving here for the celebration at Magic Knights Headquarters, yes?”  William asked.

“Eventually. Yes.”  Nozel replied.

“I was wondering.  How long is the proper amount of time to stay here before heading over there?  I would ask my father but he’s in with your brother, Lord Fyntch, on the diplomatic mission to the Diamond Kingdom.”  William told Teris.

Teris blinked at that.  She had known Fyntch was on some mission for the crown but hadn’t known the details or where he had been sent.  She found herself strangely conflicted hoping that her brother didn’t start another war yet also hoping that he was the first casualty of war.

“Lady Vangeance is likely to give me the wrong answer if I asked her.” William went on.  “Her Ladyship has never liked me but matters got so much worse when I was brought in shortly after the death of her son and made heir.”

Nozel saw the hard glint in Teris’ eyes soften.  He blinked, lashes fluttering.  He would’ve rolled his eyes, but the heir to House Silva did not roll his eyes.  Of course Teris would feel for the bastard son of House Vangeance, he thought.  Be they common, foreign, or bastard Teris seemed to have a gentle heart for all but her own kind.

“You’re free to hang around and then leave with us.”  Teris offered.

“Really?” William asked, relieved and grateful.

“Of course.  It’s not a problem, is it Nozel.”

Nozel gave a thin, tight smile.  “Not at all.”

76.3

Changed into her regular clothes, Teris entered the pub she and Yami agreed to meet at.  Her laughter at Randall’s teasing of Fuegoleon halted at the sight of Yami sitting at the bar with someone she didn’t recognize.

Fuegoleon bristled at Randall’s comments about the girl he had danced with at the Kings ball.  “It was two silly dances.”

“Two back to back dances.”  Randall grinned.  “Which means you asked to continue and she agreed.  Or maybe you two were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize the song had ended and a new begun.”

“Shut up.”  Fuegoleon snipped.

“I wonder if she has a suitable friend for me.”  Randall went on. “Maybe you’ll be more likely to agree to and enjoy a double date if it includes this girl.  What was her name?”

“Merith.” William offered, seeing what Teris had.  He looked from the bar to Teris wondering who the man sitting with Yami was and why Teris had stopped.

“Merith.” Randall sang and laughed some more.

Nozel also noticed Teris’ hesitance upon seeing Yami speaking with someone.

Fuegoleon pushed his friend out of his face.  “Shut up.”  He said again and came beside his cousin.  “Who is that?”  He asked her, looking in the man sitting beside Yami.

“I don’t know.”  Teris felt silly for wondering if she should interrupt.  It wasn’t as if Yami had never interrupted any of her conversations or that she thought he would be upset.  But for some reason the situation gave her pause.  Though Yami appeared relaxed enough, she could sense a tension about him.

“Well let’s find out.”  Randall said in a hurry to get to Headquarters where he was meeting up with his date.  Before anyone could stop him he called across the pub.  “Yami!  Who’s your friend?”

Fuegoleon spun around and grabbed a hold of Randall’s waving arm, yanking it down.  “What’s the matter with you?  Are you drunk!”

Randall looked at the fellow Crimson Lion and pouted.  “A little.  Maybe.”

Yami turned, swallowing a stream of curses at the sight of Teris, Nozel, Fuegoleon, William, and Randall.  He quickly fished a coin from his money pouch and tossed it on the bar.  Getting to his feet, he told the man he’d been talking to something and made his way to his fellows.

“You’re earlier than expected.”  Yami said, stepping forward and backing them up through the narrow entryway.  “Let’s go.”

“Actually, we’re a bit late.”  Teris bumped into Nozel, forced to take a step back at Yami’s herding encroachment.  Raising to her toes, she peeked over Yami’s shoulder seeing the man watch Yami and them with interest.

“My fault.”  Randall whispered loudly from the back of the line.  His slow, slightly unsteady backward steps holding everyone else from backing out.

“Go back to base.”  Fuegoleon ordered, embarrassed by his friend.

“No worries.”  Yami continued to step them back at a tortuously slow pace.  “Let’s go.”

“Yami.” The man from the bar called stepping behind him.

Yami looked over his shoulder.  “I said all I was going to on the matter.”

Cin smiled, flipping a coin through his fingers.  “And I said I was paying.  It’s the least I can do seeing as you were good on your word about paying us that second half and had guessed right about the other, seeing those funds returned so quickly.”

“Keep it.”  Yami turned away.

Yami tried to catch Fuegoleon or Nozel’s gaze to get them to turn around and lead the others out.  But the two royals were focused on the man behind him.

“Let’s go.”  Yami ordered the group once more.

“Hold up.”  Cin grabbed Yami’s arm.

Yami’s right hand moved to his left hip, only he hadn’t brought his katana.  It wasn’t suppose to be the kind of night where he needed it.  And despite it being how he best accessed his magic, Greywright had told him Sir Jorah wasn’t fond of him wearing it while at Headquarters.

Cin saw the move and pulled his hand back, holding it up in surrender. “Easy there big guy.”  His eyes looked passed Yami, taking in the other Magic Knights his old friend was in such a hurry to leave with. His gaze focused on the one wearing a blue squad cloak.  “You’re Nozel Silva.  Aren’t you?”

“I am.”  Nozel said, not overly surprised that some unknown peasant knew who was.

Cin’s eyes slid back to Yami.  “Interesting.”

“Pardon?” Nozel questioned.

“Forgive me, Your Highness.  I just never would’ve thought my boy Yami here would be leaving so readily with a Silva.”  Cin said.

“Why’s that?”  Nozel inquired.

Cin looked at Yami.  “Why indeed?”

“We’re leaving.”  Yami said.  He took yet another step forward, giving Teris another nudge with his left hand which was well out of Cin’s sight.

Fuegoleon might not have caught Yami’s communicative look; but he noticed how the Black Bull urged Teris along where the stranger couldn’t see. The move was telling since Yami usually didn’t care who saw him touch or brush up against his cousin.

Fuegoleon turned and gave Randall a not so gentle push towards the door. “We’re leaving.  Get moving.  William.”  He called over his shoulder at the man who stood between him and Nozel.  “Let’s go.”

Before the line began moving, Cin reached passed Yami and grabbed Teris by the arm.  “Hold up there--”  Cin’s words ended in a yelping growl of pain.

Yami grabbed Cin’s arm above and below the elbow.

Nozel winced in empathy at the popping sound.  He heard a crack meaning that something was likely broken as well as dislocated.

Cin’s hand released Teris.  Yami drove his old friend back, flipping Cin onto a table.  The table broke, the group sitting at it falling over and backing away.  Cin raised his non-mangled arm.  First to his gang that had rose from their seats.  Then up to Yami in surrender.

“Gotta get control of that temper, Yami my friend.”  Cin said, breath heavy with pain.

Yami growled.  Forearm pressed against Cin’s throat.  Fist poised to strike.  “I’m not your friend.  Not anymore.  Don’t come looking for me again.  I paid back the first half to the correct man and covered the second you would’ve got.  We’re done.  Our ties are cut.”

Cin’s eyes slid over to the group Yami had been so keen to get away from him.  “Your Magic Knight friends are watching.”

Yami’s eyes stayed on Cin.  “I want to hear you say it.  Our ties are cut.”

“Pretty girl.”  Cin commented.

Yami pressed harder on his throat.

“I can see why you didn’t wanna leave her.”  Cin choked out.

Yami didn’t let up on the pressure.  “Say the words.”

Yami knew Cin was looking to get a rise out of him.  Hoping to get confirmation that Teris was indeed the girl he had foolishly mentioned during their unexpected reunion.  There was no way Cin could know anything for certain.  Then again Cin had never bothered with certainty before acting.  At least he hadn’t back in the day.

Red faced Cin floundered unable to breath.

“Is he going to kill him?”  William asked, nervously.

“No.” Fuegoleon said with a certainty he didn’t feel.

Nozel watched Teris struggle with what to do; her expression a mix of fear and anxiety.  Her open concern for the foreigner squeezed his heart. He knew her worry was for Yami himself, not his sudden and extreme violence.  If Yami ended up killing the man, Nozel might finally get what he wanted, Yami’s lawful execution.  At the very least Yami would be dishonorably discharged and imprisoned.

While Magic Knight’s might kill in battle for the good and safety of the kingdom that hardly gave them the freedom to end a life at will. Killing someone for personal reasons was unacceptable.  As for killing someone that hadn’t even struck out in violence and never put up a fight in defense.  That wasn’t only against the law of the land, but so far passed the Magic Knights code of conduct that no one would be able to save Yami from his fate.

Nozel tried not to look at Teris, telling himself to leave it alone.  This was Yami’s doing.  He should let Yami do what he will and face the consequences.  But to his great regret and annoyance Nozel wasn’t able to do that.

In his most stern and royal voice, Nozel commanded.  “Yami Sukehiro. Get over here now Magic Knight.”

Yami’s head snapped to the Silver Eagle.

The two men stared at each other in a silent battle of wills that Nozel was loathe to give up on now that it had begun.  He cursed his action of speaking up.  But he hadn’t done it for Yami.  He had done it for Teris and ultimately himself as Teris might have done something stupid to try and save Yami from his fate.

Finally, Yami’s forearm lifted from Cin’s throat.  Fist falling, Yami stood.  Tearing his eyes away from Nozel’s, Yami fished another coin out of his pouch and dropped it on Cin’s chest.  “Keep the coin.  Keep your fanciful promises.  And keep away from me.”

Injured arm held to his chest, Cin sat up coughing.

Yami made his way back to the pubs entrance.  Fuegoleon pulled Teris aside.

Nozel was driven back by Yami’s shoulder.  The Black Bull all but shoving him out of the way.

“Keep your damned orders to yourself, Royal Bird.”  Yami rumbled as he passed.

Teris gave Cin one last look before turning to follow Yami, William, and Randall out the door.  Fuegoleon and Nozel stayed a moment longer. The two watched Cin get to his feet, three men coming to his aid.

Nozel’s eyes narrowed at the way they handled and seemed to defer to the injured man, as if they knew him.

Fuegoleon gestured to a server who stood frozen at a nearby table.  He opened his money pouch and pulled out three gold coins.  “For the damages. See that a healer is called for the man.  If this isn’t enough to set things right, please contact me.”  He handed the coins over and trusting they knew who he was.  “Nozel.  Let’s go.”  Fuegoleon called over his shoulder as he made for the door.

They found their fellow Magic Knight’s down the mostly empty block. Nozel’s anger grew when he saw Yami hadn’t stopped to explain himself.  Adding to his annoyance was that it appeared no one, not even Teris, had demanded the foreigner give explanation.

Nozel quickened his steps and caught up Yami.  Grabbing the Black Bull by the arm, he tried to spin Yami around.  “What in the name of mana was that?”

Yami halted.  His torso at a quarter turn from Nozel’s pull.  “Not now Braid Face.”

Ignoring the slight, Nozel stepped in front of him.  “No.  You don’t get to say that.  You were ready to kill that man.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him.  Wasn’t even close to killing him.” Yami dismissed.

“You’ve scared and dazed Teris silent.”  Nozel said, voice lowering so no on else heard.

Yami looked over his shoulder at her.  Though Nozel wasn’t right, he wasn’t completely wrong either.  Yami sighed.  He had worried her.

Teris stared back at Yami, eyes searching his.  Yami gave her a weak but tender smile of reassurance.

Turning back at Nozel, Yami said.  “You either don’t give her enough credit or you don’t know how well she and I understand each other.”

Nozel’s eyes narrowed, but what could he say?  While Yami and Teris could no long feed off of each others mana, their mana was still in tuned to the others in a way that had previously been unheard of.

“Now are you going to move or am I going to have to go through you?” Yami questioned, low voice matching the deadly seriousness of his eyes.

Nozel met Yami’s flinty gaze with one of his own.  Straightening to his full height, he snarled back.  “You’re welcomed to try.”

Fuegoleon stepped to the two men and quietly snapped.  “Enough!  We are Magic Knights.  We don’t brawl in bars and we certainly don’t fight each other in the middle of the streets.  You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”  He looked at Nozel in stern criticism.  “A royal.”  He turned to Yami, flaming violet eyes full of censure. “And a soon to be Vice Captain.  My five year old brother is better behaved than the way two of you are currently carrying yourselves.”

Nozel shot the Vermillion a cold glare, even as he forced himself to settle.  Fuegoleon was right.  It didn’t matter that Yami had acted worse.  Nozel was a royal.  The heir to House Silva.  He was better than Yami in every way.  And yet, in this moment, as in so many others, he had let Yami drag him down to his level of thoughtless, volatile behavior.

Seeing the two men calm somewhat, Fuegoleon asked the Black Bull.  “Where are you headed, Yami?”

“Headquarters. Jax ordered us to go and stick around for a bit.”  Yami said, speaking of him and Teris.

“And what do you plan on doing when you get there?”  Fuegoleon questioned.

“What one normally does at such things.  Why?  You want me to save you a dance?”  Yami teased with a smirk.

Satisfied that Yami wasn’t going to go start anymore trouble, Fuegoleon commanded.  “Nozel, move.”

Nozel turned back to the Vermillion.  “Don’t tell me--”

“Now.” Fuegoleon stared at the fellow royal.

Nozel stared back, blue eyes cold and hard.

“Measuring up like a couple of commoners readying for a fight.  Aren’t royals suppose to be better than that?  You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”  Yami smirked, the two royals glaring at his humor. He jerked a thumb back at Randall.  “Least events seemed to have sobered up your friend.”

Fuegoleon looked over at the fellow Crimson Lion.  He would have some stern words for his friend later.  To allow himself to get drunk.  Even mildly so.  Who did Randall think they were?  The Black Bulls?

Knowing now wasn’t the time to question Yami about what happened in the pub, Teris resumed walking and soon passed Yami, Nozel, and Fuegoleon.  “You all can stand around all you like.  But my Captain is expecting Yami and I.”

Yami looked at Nozel raising an eyebrow.  “You were saying?”

Nozel’s eyes narrowed.  Just because Teris had gathered herself enough to speak didn’t mean she hadn’t been scared and wasn’t still upset about what they’d witnessed.  Without a word the Silver Eagle turned and followed after her.  Yami liked it better that way.  He could keep an eye on Nozel without being obvious about it.  While he didn’t think Cin or his people would make a move here and now, Yami felt more at ease with the Royal Bird in his line of sight.

Fuegoleon saw Yami’s expression change as the man watched Nozel head down the street.

“What happened in there?”  The Crimson Lion quietly asked.

Yami’s eyes slid to the Vermillion.  “Nothing good.”

Fuegoleon huffed.  “I’d say.  You could have killed that man.”

“Could have.”  Yami agreed.  “But I wouldn’t have nor did I come close to doing so.”

“He had men there.”  Fuegoleon informed.

“Figured. How many?”  Yami questioned, gaze traveling back to Nozel who had caught up to Teris.

“Three that moved to assist him.  Maybe more that didn’t.”  Fuegoleon answered.

“Makes me wonder if he followed from the bar to insist on paying so he could point Nozel out to the rest.”  Yami mused loud enough that Fuegoleon heard.  Not that Cin wouldn’t have found Nozel’s arrival and his ready willingness to leave with the royal interesting given everything, Yami thought.

“Why would he want to point Nozel out?”  Fuegoleon asked.

Yami shook his head, both to clear it and wave Fuegoleon off.  “I gotta get to Headquarters.  Talk to Jax, Julius, and Greywright.”

Fuegoleon lifted a hand to Yami’s chest, halting his step forward.  “If this is about Nozel...”

Yami looked down at the fine manicured nails of Fuegoleon’s long fingered hand.  “After what you saw in the bar you’re going to try and block my way?”

“You want to know one of the first things I saw in there?”  Fuegoleon said, conversationally.  “Noted it long before you ever went for it.  You don’t have your sword.”

“Leon.” Randall called, questioning tone carefully solicitous.  He and William slowed in following Nozel and Teris.

“Even without my katana, it sounds like your friend is worried you may need help against me.”  Yami said.

“Maybe events didn’t sober him as much as you thought.  Even with your crude weapon, there’s no way Randall, or anyone else, would be worried on my behalf when faced against the likes of you.” Fuegoleon said.

Yami saw Nozel and Teris about to turn out of sight at cross street, and snapped.  “Fine.  Old friend.  Sent by Silva the second time.  Now sent by someone else for Nozel.  Happy?  Can we go?”  Yami stole glance at Fuegoleon before turning back to Teris and Nozel, seeing them disappear around a corner.

Fuegoleon didn’t understand all of what Yami had said; but he had understood enough.  The Vermillion dropped his hand and raced after Nozel and Teris.  Once again having them in sight, Fuegoleon and Yami slowed. William and Randall did the same, the two having run along with them without knowing the reasoning.

After a moment, when no explanation was given for the hasty sprint, William declared.  “You all are weird.  Violent and weird.”

They arrived at Magic Knights Headquarters and made their way to the banquet hall.

Catching sight of Bronn, Yami stepped beside Teris, the back of his hand brushing hers.  “I’ll find you in a bit.”

Teris looked at him, concern shining in her eyes.

Yami struggled, wanting to give her a reassuring kiss.  He had stupidly thought that as time went on it would be easier to follow Julius’ rules about open affection.  Instead, Yami found the set boundaries even more difficult to obey.

“I’ll explain later.”  Yami promised.  “Trust me?”

Teris gave a soft smile.  “Always.”

Yami’s body gave a small tremble at her single, caressing word.  He looked at her, trusting that his gaze got across all that he had to leave unsaid, and made for the direction he had seen Bronn head in.

Teris watched Yami walk away.  Her gaze fell to his ass only to have a flash of red block her view.  She blinked, eyes lifting to see Fuegoleon had followed Yami and Nozel was turning to do the same.

“Nozel.” Teris called after him.

Nozel stopped and looked back at her.

“You’re not a Black Bull.  None of the concerns you.”  Teris told.

“As if you’re not just as interested as the rest of us as to why Yami attacked that man.”  Randall challenged.

“Trust me.  Yami won’t be talking to Bronn about that.”  Teris said.

Confused and disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting answers, William made his way to a group of fellow Golden Dawn.

Randall saw his date and took off.

“I see Gendry.  Abril can’t be far away.  See you later.”  Teris told Nozel, giving him a parting smile.

Nozel watched Teris go, offended that she had kept him from following only to so readily leave him.

76.4

By the time Yami was mid-way through speaking Greywright had forgotten about his anger that Fuegoleon Vermillion had somehow learned Nathyn Silva had hired people to kill Yami.

When Yami finished reporting his talk with Cin, Bronn laughed loudly. Commander Greywright, Julius, Jax, and Fuegoleon turned to the Black Bulls Vice Captain.

“What?” Bronn expelled, trying to control his amusement, all be it not very hard.  “No one else finds it hilarious that the group Silva hired to kill that one,” he gestured to Yami, “have now been hired to kill Silva’s son and heir?”  When they all continued to stare without humor, Bronn turned to Yami.  “You gotta be getting a kick out of this.  Not only was the leader of this gang an old buddy of yours who let you to buy back your life, but now they’ve returned offering you a chance to turn the tables and get paid doing it.”

Yami looked Bronn over without expression.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t the tiniest bit tempted to accept their offer.” Bronn cajoled.

“Bronn!” Jax snapped.

“I’m not you.”  Yami told Bronn.  “If I was going to kill Nozel, I wouldn’t plan and sneak.  I sure as hell wouldn’t do it for money.”

“You’re not helping your case.”  Julius said.

Yami turned to his mentor.  “Didn’t realize I had to.  I came to you all with this.  I didn’t have to.”

“No one’s thinking you’re a part of this.”  Jax soothed.

“Speak for yourself.  I wouldn’t put anything passed the Lord of Destruction here.”  Bronn leaned against a table, crossing arms and ankles.

Ignoring his Vice Captain, Jax turned to the Magic Knights Commander.  “You don’t think Yami has anything to do with this do you?”

Greywright eyed Yami for a moment.  “No.  But others will.”

The Commander sighed and shook his head.  This was a mess.  And a greater mess would arise because of it.  People hired to harm, abduct, and even kill nobles was a known, though thankfully irregular, thing. But in all his years as Magic Knights Commander he had never known of such a hire for a royal; let alone anyone in either of the second or third ranking families.  Greywright could already imagine Lord Nathyn’s wrath.  The Silva patriarch would send his own people out on a murderous hunt if they didn’t arrest the gang and person who had hired them within the next couple days.

“This doesn’t go anywhere.  In fact, none of you go anywhere.” Greywright told, looking at the five men.  He made for the door.

“Where are you going?”  Julius asked.

“Where do you think?  To get Sir Jorah, of course.”  Greywright turned back and looked pointedly at Bronn.  “Every single one of you better be here when I return.”

“He’ll be here.”  Jax promised.

“I’m not in the mood to wake up on the floor with the mana of all headaches.  So yeah, what he said.”  Bronn grumbled, tilting his head to his Captain.

“Should one of us get Nozel?”  Fuegoleon questioned.

Greywright shook his head.  “Not yet.”

“Someone should be watching him though.”  Julius said, looking at the Knights Commander.

“Teris, Randall, and William were there.  They don’t know anything, but saw what happened.”  Fuegoleon informed.

“Black Sheep can keep the Little Bird safe enough.”  Bronn said with a nod.

“Or as Nozel’s Intended she might be a target herself.”  Jax put in.

“Enough.” Greywright silenced.  “So long as he doesn’t leave Headquarters, Nozel is safe.”  He glanced at Jax finding the Captain's thought process disturbing but accurate.  “I’ll order Nozel and Teris not to leave.  Stay here.”

76.5

It was late, the celebration at Magic Knights Headquarters had long since ended.  It seemed everyone had left except for Teris and Nozel who sat facing each other at a table.

“Maybe they forgot about us.”  Teris said.

“Who’s they?”  Nozel questioned dully, blinking heavy lids.

Teris sighed and stretched her arms out on the table.  “I don’t know. Whoever didn’t want us to leave.  What did Greywright tell you?”

“Just that.  Don’t leave.”  Nozel said.

“Nothing else?”  Teris pressed.

“Not to leave until he told me to.”  Nozel added.

“That’s it?”  Teris asked.

“What did he tell you?”  Nozel asked, arching a brow.

Teris righted in her seat taking Nozel’s gaze as censure for slouching on the table.  “Same.  There were some other bits.  Couldn’t quite make it all out.  Sounded like curses.  Don’t think it was addressed at me.  At least I hope not.”

Nozel closed his eyes.  Even the servants were gone, having cleaned and cleared the room of everything save for the table and two chairs Teris and he were sitting in.  They had tried to take the table.  But Nozel had been in such a sour mood that he had rested a forearm on it, the servants wordlessly moving on.

“Should have made them leave some of the food.”  Teris commented, after a time.

“Should have made them leave the wine.”  Nozel said, eyes still closed.

Teris laughed at that.  Nozel chuckled with her.

He was beginning to wonder if they had been forgotten.  Tempted as he was to escort Teris to her squads base and return to his, Nozel wasn’t about to disobey an order from the Magic Knights Commander. He’d rather stay the night in here, forgotten with Teris than do such a thing.

Stay the night alone with Teris...  One of his eyes cracked open to look across the table at her.  He had been sitting beside her when the few lingering Magic Knight’s had been present.  But as soon as the last two remaining appeared to be ready to leave, he had moved his chair to the opposite side of the circular table.  Even with servants present, they still would have been considered alone.  And now that they truly were alone, he worried for Teris’ image.  To stay the night alone together when it wasn’t for a mission.  It didn’t matter what distance he kept, it would tarnish Teris’ reputation beyond repair.

Nozel got to his feet.  “I’m going to go look for someone.”

“I’ll go too.”  Teris stood and stretched.

“No.”

“Why not?”  Teris asked.

Nozel sighed.  He was too tired to explain the rules of courtly propriety to her.  She’d probably shrug it off without care anyway.  Instead he told.  “One of us should be here in case Greywright or someone else comes.”

“I don’t want to be here alone.”  Teris said.

Nozel smirked.  “Why not?  You’re not afraid are you?”

“Of course not.  I just don’t want to be alone in case someone does come around but instead of telling us what’s going on or to go home they chew us out for still being here.”

Nozel blinked at her, which was his version of rolling his eyes.  “Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know.”  Teris shrugged.  “Why were we told to stay and then forgotten about?”

“You weren’t forgotten about.”  Greywright said, stepping through the double doors.

Nozel and Teris turned.  The Wizard King entered the banquet hall beside the Magic Knights Commander.  With them were Captains Pyter, Jax, Julius, and Mereoleona along with Bronn, Fuegoleon, and Yami.

“Okay. Now I am scared.”  Teris muttered to Nozel.

Nozel didn’t blame her.  A nervous foreboding shooting up his spine.

“Nozel.” Pyter greeted with a nod.

Nozel inclined his head in return.  “Captain.  May I inquire what is going on?”

“In a moment.”  Jorah said.  He looked about the room.  “Where did all the tables and chairs go?”

“The servants came through and cleaned up, Sir.“  Teris answered.

“Must be far later than I imagined.  Very well.  The Captain's meeting room is more secure anyway.  Follow me.”  Jorah directed.

Thinking he might be able to glean something from Fuegoleon, Nozel was tempted to walked with him but instead fell in line with his Captain as was proper.  Teris walked beside Yami, trying to catch his eye.  Yami tensed feeling Teris’ gaze on him, silently asking him countless questions.  He kept his eyes pinned forward but angled his steps till he was so close their arms brushed with every step they took.

Pulling up the rear along with her brother, Mereoleona grinned.  She wasn’t sure what amused her more.  The way Yami and Teris were with each other.  Or the frowned of disapproval their actions incited in Fuegoleon.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, the least you can do is take Father’s advise.”  Mereoleona told her brother in the barest of whispers.

“I didn’t eavesdrop.”  Fuegoleon hissed.

Walking in front of the Vermillion's Teris turned back to look at her cousins.

“What?” Fuegoleon snapped at her.

“Let her have some happiness, Leon.”  Mereoleona softly said, when Teris turned back around.  Even though she didn’t believe Teris would wed Nozel.  She knew life would still be hard on her.  Especially those first few years.

“I didn’t listen in.”  Fuegoleon said so softly his sister barely heard him.

“Yes, you did.”  Mereoleona told.

“I didn’t intend to.”  Fuegoleon amended.

“You could have walked away or made your presence know.”  Mereoleona stated.

Fuegoleon had no excuse there.  He wondered if with all this his father would learn of his unintentional listening in on the private conversation. Fuegoleon’s cheeks grew warm with embarrassment and worry at the thought.

“Inside.” Jorah commanded opening the door to the Captain's meeting room. When Teris reached the door the Wizard King held up a hand.  “Not you.  Not yet.”

Teris look at the Wizard King her eyes wide and questioning..

“You can wait down the hall in the Captain's lounge.”  Jorah told her.

Mereoleona placed a hand on Teris’ shoulder.  “I’ll wait with her.”

“No. I need in there.”  Jorah said.

Greywright stepped back out of the room.  “I’ll wait with her, Sir.”

Jorah gave the Knights Commander a nod.

Yami finally looked at Teris.  Teris stared up at him questioningly. Despite the circumstance, Yami’s heart skipped a beat the way it always did when he looked at her.  Mana, she was so beautiful.

Bronn stepped back to the door and grabbed Yami by the scruff of the neck. He pulled Yami away, muttering curses at the younger man.

Greywright urged Teris to continue on down the hall.  “Come on.  Let’s see if we can find where Win Red keeps his snacks.”

“Left back corner on top of the tall hutch.”  Mereoleona said.

“No. He moved them again.”  Jax called from inside the room.

“That little bastard.”  Mereoleona cursed.  “Who stole one too many? Was it you Pyter?  You claim you don’t like sweets.  But you’re not fooling anyone.”

“Get inside and focus.”  Greywright ordered the Crimson Lions Captain.

Mereoleona and Fuegoleon entered.

Still at the door, Jorah quietly told the Magic Knights Commander.  “Go ahead and inform her of what was agreed on.  It’ll speed things up. I’ll need to get message to Lord Silva as soon as we’re done.”

Greywright nodded at the Wizard King, understanding the need for expedience. The longer Sir Jorah took to inform Lord Silva, the more questions the royal would have.

Jorah closed the door and turned to his Magic Knight’s with a sigh.  He had foolishly thought things would be quiet for a while now that the war was over, and the gangs that had grown brazen during the Magic Knights absence had been subdued back to their normal levels of menace.  He had been Wizard King for how many years?  He should know better.  Nothing was ever quiet for long.

Not mincing words Jorah got right to the point.  Looking at Nozel, he said.  “The man Yami had an altercation with this evening was the leader of a gang for hire.”

Nozel’s eyes flicked to Yami.  After whatever Lord Leonidas had said in effort to get his father to desist.  Had his father still sent another gang after Yami?  But something about all this didn’t read right.  The least of which being that the events at the pub hadn’t seemed like an attempt on Yami’s life.

Jorah sighed, sitting at the head of the long table.  “I see that it’s true.”

It wasn’t that the Wizard King doubted what his Commander and Captain's had reported this evening.  But that hadn’t stopped him from hoping against hope it wasn’t true.  Even after the first time Greywright had told him about Lord Silva hiring people to take Yami Sukehiro out, he had hoped it hadn’t been so.

Nozel turned back to the Wizard King.  “Sir?”

“The man wasn't there for Yami or at your Lord Father's behest.  The man, Cin, was an old friend of Yami’s and there seeking out Yami’s assistance.”  Jorah informed.

Nozel glanced back at Yami.  He knew the foreigner was violent and uncivilized.  But to know a hired killer well enough that the person had come looking for his assistance?  Even Nozel had given Yami more credit than that.

Eyes on Nozel, Jorah told.  “They were hired to kill you.”

76.6

“What do you mean, hired to kill Nozel?”  Teris questioned, voice raising in both volume and pitch.

“Exactly that.”  Greywright said.

“And why would this—this Cin tell Yami this?”  Teris asked.

“As I said, Yami informed us they were old friends.”  Greywright answered, patiently.

Before telling Teris the disturbing news, Greywright had had her help him find the snacks the Green Mantis Captain kept squirreled away in the lounge.  He now sat across the table from her munching.  He was stress eating over this current situation.  A bad habit he rarely had time for and usually didn’t allow himself.

“You also said the last time they saw each other was years ago!  Before Yami and Julius met.  How did this Cin find him?  Yami’s a Magic Knight.  That alone should have made this Cin wary enough not to tell Yami anything.  Instead, he sought Yami out and not only trusted telling him but asked for his help?  It makes no sense!”

Greywright sighed.  From her perspective he would have to agree.  But he couldn’t exactly tell her the reason Cin had thought Yami would gladly agree to help kill Nozel was because Nozel’s father had tried to have Yami killed twice.  Or that despite Yami paying the full price for his life this Cin still believed Yami owed him.  Sir Jorah had ordered him against revealing all that.  And he heartily agreed.  It was bad enough so many people already knew of Lord Nathyn’s attempts.  He didn’t much care about the damage to the Silva’s image.  He was worried about the damning repercussions it would cause his Magic Knights.  Particularly Yami and Teris.

He wasn’t sure how Sir Jorah was going to keep Yami’s name out of it when the Wizard King informed Lord Silva of the threat to the mans heir.  But he was certain the Wizard King would find a way.  If Lord Silva were to learn Yami had any knowledge of this he would see Yami ruined or imprisoned, if not worse.

Greywright grabbed another handful dried fruit and shrugged.  “Who knows what goes through the mind of someone like that.”

“Maybe this Cin has had difficulty getting to Nozel and with Yami being a Magic Knight decided to chance asking him.”  Teris thought aloud.

Not wanting to encourage her theorizing in the matter, Greywright said. “In any case we’re grateful he did.”

Teris’ eyes widened as another thought hit her.  “You’re not thinking Yami has anything to do with this.  Are you?”

“Of course not.  And I will stand with him against anyone who might think otherwise.  Why would Yami come to us if he was party to any of this?”

Teris relaxed.  “Exactly.”  After a moment she asked.  “How far will knowledge of this Cin and his hired task go?”

“Including you and those currently in the Captain's meeting room?  The King, and of course Lord Silva.  Though I’m sure Lord Silva will inform the Captain of his personal guard.  I highly doubt the news will travel further than that.  An attempt on the heir of the second royal family is all but an attempt on the kingdom.  It’ll be handled swiftly and quietly.”

Teris eased, hoping for Nozel’s safety that it would be.  She tensed again, another thought striking her.  “Will Lord Silva be told it was Yami who brought the information?”

“I’m certain Sir Jorah will keep Yami’s name far from all this.” Greywright soothed.  “Now.  Let us speak the concern we have for you.”

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “Concern for me?”

“You are Nozel’s Intended.”  Greywright stated. “I’m not--” Teris stopped, her accustomed denial catching in her throat.  Like it or not.  Whether she thought of herself as such or not. Officially.  By everyone else's thinking.  She was Nozel’s Intended.  “What does that have to do with this?”

Greywright felt a wave of pride.  Even just a few months ago Teris wouldn’t have stopped herself from challenging the truth that she hated.  She was growing.  Maturing in more than just power but temper.  “They may try to get to him through you.”

Unable to help herself, Teris jested.  “By asking me to assist them? Commander, Nozel and I may not always get along but I assure you, I would never help people looking to kill him.”

The pride he had felt moments ago left with his sigh.  “This is serious, Teris.  I ask that you--”

There was a knock on the door.

“Enter.” Greywright called.

Jax poked his head in.  “Sir Jorah went to call on Lord Silva. Thankfully he’s still in residence at Silva Castle.  He took Pyter and Nozel with him.”  Jax glanced at Teris then back to the Magic Knight’s Commander.  “You about done filling her in?  It’s been a long night and I’d like to get my people home.”

Teris looked between the men.  “Wait.  Why was I told separately?”

“Cause you make a damned fuss every time someone calls you that boys Intended.”  Bronn said, pushing the door further open.  “We needed to get on quickly so Jorah could inform the royal brats father.  We didn’t have time for your tantrums when it was explained that you had to take care in case they came after you.”

Scowling at the Vice Captain, Teris heatedly told.  “I do not have tantrums.”

Bronn huffed, unimpressed by her temper.  “You’re about to have one now, Black Sheep.”

Teris gritted her teeth trying not to prove Bronn’s point.

Turning away, Bronn whispered to Jax.  “You’re welcome.”

Though Jax didn’t approve of the way Bronn diverted Teris’ attention. It had been effective and he was grateful for that.  Looking at Greywright, Jax pressed.   “Commander?”

Greywright nodded his dismissal.  He looked at Teris and cautioned.  “As doubtful as it is that they’ll use such a tactic.  Please, be mindful.”

“With everything else going on, Commander.  I already am.”  Teris told.

Greywright stuffed a handful of dried berries in his mouth.  The girl made an all too good point.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

***A Super AWESOME Sweet Reader did a moodboard for Yami and Teris with their favorite line Yami said to Teris.  It’s posted on my page and I highly recomend you check it out.  It’s beautiful and I couldn’t be more grateful.  THANK YOU again anon!!!!***

Next chapter snippet:

“Ah, good.  You’re awake.”

Teris pulled her head back even as the speaker brought his face closer to hers.  She instantly recognized him as the man Yami had been speaking with at the bar.  The one hired to kill Nozel.  Her eyes hardened.

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 3

cw for cult mention

Chapter 3: Recording Scientific Progress

“Do you think we should check those mountains again?”

“Well, when have we ever known them to double back on locations?”

“That’s the point, we haven’t. They’ve changed their patterns before to throw us off.”

“But would they risk discovery like that?”

“It can’t hurt to try.”

Tommy purposefully puts a little more weight into his footsteps, considering whistling a tune just to announce his presence. Anything to avoid the awkward stop to their conversation that will come if they see him before hearing him.

Speaking off, Tommy enters the pavilion that hosts the Viewing Pool, their connection to Earth in more ways than one. The Viewing Pool acts as both a mirror and a transporter, giving them access to most locations on the planet. It’s surrounded by seats for all the Gods, but since there’s no meeting, nobody rests in the chairs. Instead, sitting at the side of the pool are two Gods, Bubby and Coomer. They’re clearly tidying up a few papers.

“Ah, hello Tommy!” Coomer waves, and damn it, even if they’re clearly hiding something from him, Tommy can’t bring himself to feel angry. Growing up, Bubby and Coomer were the only other Gods on the cloud aside from his father (Benrey was on what Gman calls an “extended sabbatical”, though Benrey refers to it as his funny vacation). So what if Tommy feels a little soft for them!

“H-hey guys,” Tommy smiles. “What are you doing?”

“Same as always,” Bubby flicks his fingers, flames appearing between them. Extremely in character for someone who's known to mortals as the God of Fire. “Tracking down cultists.”

Tommy choses to take that as a partial truth, or at least one he doesn’t know the full implications of. Because while the cult was a known threat thousands of years before Tommy was born, he doesn’t actually know what they did to be considered a big deal in the first place. They’re connected to the skeletons, sure, but the most the skeletons have ever done is cause a little chaos down on Earth. Nothing the Gods hadn’t easily dealt with.

But. The way Coomer places a hand on Bubby’s back when he mentions them. How Benrey’s eyes seem to glaze over at any implication. When Tommy’s dad brushed him off with, “It was before your time. It will never happen again.”

...

Whatever.

Either they tell him or they don’t. Besides, he’s pretty sure Gordon’s in the same boat as him, so at least it seems like it’s more of an age thing than a personal vendetta against Tommy.

“I think- I’m heading down for the day,” Tommy says, desperate not to think about it anymore. “Do you need anything?”

“What do you do down there?” Bubby eyes the empty space next to Tommy. “You’re not even bringing Sunkist!”

Tommy shrugs, because he really doesn’t need them knowing what he’s getting up to. “Just wandering around.”

“Well, he is the God of Discovery, afterall!” Coomer chuckles, Bubby and Tommy smiling along with him. “But… do be careful down there Tommy, alright?” he continues, his tone suddenly grave. “I’ve had a terrible feeling lately.”

"You know we encountered these people in life." Bubby glances towards Coomer. "Trust us, they're no joke."

Hm.

"That's fine," Tommy can't help but get snippy. "I'm stronger now than- than you guys were then."

With that, Tommy turns the pool to the city and drops in, leaving Bubby and Coomer staring.

“Benrey wasn’t strong enough,” Bubby states. His voice is oddly monotone.

Coomer sighs. “Well, who is?”

Neither of them answer. They both know it’s rhetorical.

☆○☆○☆

They’ve been texting for about a week now, so Tommy supposes it’s about time they saw each other face to face again. And when Darnold invited him over to help out with an alchemical experiment, well, Tommy couldn’t think of a single reason he should say no!

It’s become very clear that what was once mild attraction has turned into a full-blown crush. Which is! A lot! Because Tommy’s pretty sure the last time he felt like this was over four-hundred years ago, and there’s a lot of other complicating factors!

But oh boy, if everything Darnold says isn’t a shot of serotonin to Tommy’s brain. He’s just so passionate about his work, Tommy could listen to him ramble for hours. And he technically has, though it was over text. So not necessarily listening, more like reading, but still! Tommy read every single one of those words!

Today was a good day for a visit. Tommy had wrapped up his work early, and though he was exhausted, he had a feeling that wouldn’t matter when he was around Darnold. So with a confident smile, he knocks on the door of Darnold’s apartment.

Darnold answers almost immediately, and he kind of looks winded as he opens the door. “Hey Tommy!” Darnold says, and oh no! He’s got that big smile on his face again! “You’re just in time, I just finished setting everything up!”

He steps aside for Tommy to enter, and wow. Darnold has turned his entire living room into a lab. Stacks of alchemical books are piled around the room, notes are thrown around haphazardly, and there are beakers filled with colorful potions in random places. Tommy would be impressed by his dedication if not for the social implications of such a decision.

“Sorry for the, uh, mess,” Darnold rubs the back of his neck. “I have a system, I swear.”

“It’s- I’ve seen worse messes, don’t worry!” It’s true. The way prayers make their way to the Gods tends to leave them in a messy pile on the floor, a fact Tommy has had to hear Gordon rant about for the better part of three centuries.

Darnold sighs his relief, but in an instant it’s replaced by a sharp look in his eye and an almost smug smile. “Alright! So the experiment!”

The two of them sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, where Darnold does most of his potion mixing, Tommy learns. But today isn’t necessarily about potions.

“I just figured out a recipe for a potential flavor syrup,” Darnold explains, leaning his phone against a pile of books. “It shouldn’t alter the effects of a potion, but we still need to do a taste test.”

“Alright.” Tommy smiles, because Darnold’s enthusiasm is infectious. “Wh-what’s with the phone, though?”

“Oh!” Darnold blinks, as if noticing his phone for the first time. “I, er… I like to record my experiments, for posterity. It’s not going up anywhere!” He anxiously scratches the side of his face. “But, um, I don’t have to film if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I was just wondering, I’m- I’m okay with it!” Tommy explains.

Darnold nods. “Okay. After I press record, I’m going to do a little introduction, and then we’ll do the experiment.” He pauses for a moment, and meets Tommy’s eyes. “And, uh. Thanks for offering to help, Tommy. An extra pair of hands goes a long way.”

Tommy feels his face heat up, but before he can say anything, Darnold’s already started the recording.

“This is Darnold Pepper, recording with lab assistant Tommy…” he trails off.

Oh crap, Darnold’s asking for a last name. Tommy’s pretty sure he’s never had one of those.

Tommy panics. “C-Coolatta.”

“Like the drink?”

“There’s no- no relation.”

Darnold shrugs and continues his monologue. “Recording with Tommy Coolatta. Attempting experiment 378-B, Flavored Syrup 6.”

The experiment goes well enough! There aren’t any explosions, Tommy doesn’t accidentally knock something over with his elbow. At the end, they have a reddish mixture as the bottom of a beaker, and a few popsicles to test with. The only problem is the taste.

Darnold’s face sours after a single taste. “O-oh no… this is the worst one yet.”

“What?” Tommy stifles a laugh. “It can’t be- it can’t be that bad!”

“It’s really bad, Tommy. The flavor isn’t going away.” Darnold stands and walks towards his kitchen.

Tommy picks up his own popsicle stick, and the gooey red syrup slowly drips off. Well, red usually means cherry, right? Or strawberry? Those are great flavors! Tommy licks the end of the stick, and…

Oh no.

“Darnold it’s bad!” Tommy shouts, stumbling into the kitchen behind him. “It’s- it’s really bad!”

Darnold is already downing a Fanta, and he slides one towards Tommy. “Damn,” Darnold sighs. “That sucked.”

Tommy cracks open the Fanta, relieved by the orange flavor washing out the literal garbage fire-tasting syrup from his mouth. “Ugh.” He wipes his lips. “That was, um…”

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Darnold places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Physical contact with Darnold causes Tommy’s brain to short-circuit, but other than that he’s fine.

“Y-yeah,” Tommy says. “That was… fun, kind of.”

“Really?”

Tommy nods. “Next time, we’ll, uh… only one of us will try it.”

☆○☆○☆

When Tommy returns home, he expects to find the pavilion empty. After all, he’s been gone for hours now, and there’s no way whatever Bubby and Coomer were doing would last that long. And besides, there are better places to hang out than the Viewing Pool.

But, surprise! Bubby and Coomer are still there, and they’re not alone either. The Gods of Fire and Strength have been joined by the Gods of Chaos and Order, and all four of them have shit-eating grins on their face.

“Uh, hey,” Tommy waves, and Benrey begins snickering. “What’s, um… what’s so funny?”

“Tommy’s got a crush!” Bubby blurts out. Coomer elbows him.

Tommy goes rigid. “What…? W-were you guys watching me?!”

Apparently that’s enough confirmation for everyone else. Coomer pulls Tommy down into a headlock, Gordon begins grilling him for the specifics, Benrey starts cracking jokes, and Bubby is cackling.

Great. Perfect.

Curse this wonderful family!

[shinneth]

SUF as a whole just left me with an empty feeling.

I feel you there, anon. In Dreams aside, I could take or leave the rest of this series (and in most cases, leaning well towards the latter sentiment). 

But I guess that’s to be expected when 90% of SUF focused squarely on Steven’s PTSD and need for therapy and the many, many red flags shown as early on as the beginning that signaled his eventual breakdown to where he ended up in the climax.

Especially with the fanbase itself constantly screeching that Steven needs therapy, Steven has PTSD, Steven’s gonna corrupt, et cetera… like, it was all laid on far too thick. So when we got to Growing Pains, it really didn’t move me like it did so many others because it came off as such a “No shit, Sherlock” moment for me when Priyanka finally addressed the underlying issues the show itself really didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about.

Don’t get me wrong; a lot of people who have suffered (or are presently suffering) from the same problems as Steven irl have been helped a lot by these kinds of episodes, and I do appreciate that.

But from my personal standpoint, yeah… I knew from the start that Steven’s underlying issues alone were not gonna be enough to sustain a full series, and sure enough, it wasn’t. We got to see some bits here and there with the other characters, but we also had a few choice characters be really shitty people in season 5 that never got properly addressed before it concluded, and with the timeskip in SUF, all of that just got handwaved off as “dealt with offscreen”, which is the laziest BS ever. 

And worst of all, at the end, they really didn’t stick the landing well at all. I’ll at least say SUF’s resolution wasn’t the mega levels of offensively terrible as Change Your Mind - but then again, it’s hard to out-do giving totalitarian space dictators with countless lives lost under their watch a fucking FACE-TURN out of nowhere. 

Like, really, the Diamonds’ presence (White especially) in SUF actively made my viewing experience even worse towards the end. Yes, I should be glad they’re establishing that the Diamonds are at least starting to use their powers for good and rebuild some of the lives they ruined.

But, y’know… doesn’t change the fact that they’re all responsible for multiple counts of global genocide. Like, any living creatures native to their colony planets? They’re still fucking gone. And the Diamonds themselves just come off VERY unnatural as “nice” guys - and in many cases, they’re even creepier now than they were as villains. Good god, White’s blubbering in the climax was fucking insufferable, though. 

Partially I think this comes from SU being a “kids show” so there’s this pressing need to end things as cleanly as possible. I’m more miffed that in the end, Steven still got pretty much everything he wanted.

They had some admittedly good set-ups to Steven’s growth, like having him accept that people grow up, change, and move on with their lives. We see the clear evidence that Steven’s got an unhealthy clinginess towards his human friends - and Connie’s no exception. 

And considering they took the time to establish that:

Connie has friends other than Steven. She gets along with them just fine, so it’s not like she’s totally lonely or isolated without him.

Connie is ambitious with many goals and aspirations when it comes to her education and potential career paths. She’s shown to have put a lot of thought into her options and at no point comes off as feeling pressured by her parents or friends into this.

Connie knows she has to work hard and often to achieve her dreams, and despite that rigid lifestyle, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. That would imply she really wants to reach these goals she set for herself, whether or not Steven’s in the picture at all.

Connie and Steven’s dynamic is a far cry from how it was when they started out in the original series. You can tell Steven has no clue what Connie’s talking about when it comes to her goals and just plays along, pretending he understands anything coming out of her mouth.

Connie, despite what her speech would lead you to believe, has been every bit as insufferably dense as the gems in SUF when it comes to Steven’s issues. In Bismuth Casual, Steven’s very specifically-worded concerns were misconstrued as a fear of skating (or his inability to, whatever) - and in the end, they just became Stevonnie rather than properly talked things through. You know, something PERIDOT 100% did in the prior episode.

Connie is very firm about wanting to live her life as herself. She’s not against being Stevonnie from time to time, but like hell does she want to be Stevonnie for the long term. 

Connie knows marrying in general at her age is a stupid-stupid-stupid idea, even if it is Steven. And considering her well-established commitment to her studies and reaching her lofty goals, Connie - at least at the time - seemed to know a relationship with anyone just wasn’t in the cards for her at this point in her life. There’s no need to rush that shit, and she won’t compromise her life just to give her needy friend this thing he wants that he doesn’t even fully understand truly is. 

Or, you know… just have Connie backpedal hard on a good chunk of that and date Steven so that he won’t become a monster again. I’m mostly kidding with that - but by kissing his monstrous self and that triggering his restoration, then soon later we see that even though Steven and Connie can only have a long-distance relationship at best, she’s dating him right now anyway even though this needlessly makes her life way more complicated than it needed to be - like seriously, how can I not take that as Canon Connverse being founded on the condition of “Okay, if it’ll keep you from losing your shit, going pink, and turning into a monster, I’ll date you”?!

And in the end it yet again gives Steven more-or-less exactly what he wants, even if it isn’t something he really needs. 

I’m glad Rebecca clarified that Steven would still visit Beach City often, because I had a very hard time buying him just traveling by himself on the road. And maybe it would have worked better if he was just doing it short-term to “find himself” or something along those lines, but nope! They’re basically saying this is what Steven wants to do.

And honestly, even that is dampened with his clearly-stated intention of visiting Connie way more than he intends to visit the gems. Even though Connie’s gonna be busy. With college.

This just… wasn’t a good ending. It had plenty of good moments - his goodbye to Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot especially was very well-executed and the closest this finale came to drawing out any real emotion out of me. I loved the scene of Steven giving Greg his room; that was adorable. The last meeting with Tsundere Jasper was amusing.

But everything else… ehhh.

I mean, what can we really take from this season that I haven’t already outlined? The biggest takeaways were the plot points everyone saw coming a mile away that weren’t even executed all that well. 

In Dreams, as great at is was, might as well have not even happened - because what really carried over from that episode through to the end? Even though Peridot was the only one who got through to Steven, legitimately comforted him and addressed his fears, and the episode for once ended with Steven being happy with no underlying concerns about his problems - immediately he’s back to being awkward and depressed and frustrated by Bismuth Casual.

And I get that shit like trauma shouldn’t be resolved so easily, but for what In Dreams accomplished, I expected there to at least be a semblance of progress. Steven’s known since that episode he can hang out with Peridot and talk to her about whatever without needing a reason to do it, but he never ever takes her up on that again. 

So again, what was the point? 

You really get the impression that the quality of writing took a backseat just to emphasize the symbolism of an issue people commonly have, but SUF’s execution stretched my suspension of disbelief far beyond its limits. 

And nothing stretched that farther than Connie’s insufferable fucking speech in I Am My Monster; that pretty much completely made In Dreams feel like it never really happened in SUF’s continuity. 

In some ways, I just prefer to believe In Dreams was just a dream itself. An AU offshoot in SUF itself. Considering it’s so ridiculously good compared to the other nineteen episodes and by far the most pure and wholesome, maybe that’s the best way to see it. 

In Dreams was too good for its own series. That’s literally the only thing I personally took from SUF as a whole (at least in terms of lasting impact). 

So yeah, I guess for only one episode of twenty to really hit me in the feels, “empty” is an apt way to describe the series, anon. 

Seriously, if I didn’t have my own massive SU-AU to mess around in and do things properly, this probably would have upset me more. 

Instead, I just chuckle at Rebecca’s Monster Steven and raise her to what I’m putting my version of Steven through in my current story. Where I’m pulling all the stops to make other characters matter even though the stars are undoubtedly Peridot and Steven. 

And I’m actually making actions yield serious, lasting consequences.

(yeah, part of me wishes Jasper wasn’t revived - or alternatively, have Steven accidentally shatter White Diamond instead of Jasper since he came awfully close in canon

or even better, shatter Jasper and revive her, then accidentally shatter White and not be able to revive her since Steven used up ALL that diamond essence on Jasper…

yeah I’m kind of a monster)

Your pain is mutually felt, anon. So I’ll prescribe you endless refills of better-written and better-executed SU fanon to heal the emptiness SUF left inside you.

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, CAROLINE! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF MICHAEL.

Admin Rosey: This was. This was absolutely beautiful to read, Caroline. I feel like there’s no other way to describe it because the emotion behind each and every word was so palpable. I think what struck me - not above all, just something that really struck me and sticks within my mind - is the fact that you identified him as heroic, and then as archaic. It was such a small detail, but it was the most perfect way to describe Michael. He wants to be the hero, the savior - but he’s archaic. Michael is the untitled King of Caelum, and boy, I cannot wait to see how much ruin you will cause to him and everyone else. Sincerely, this was a g i f t to read. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias. Caroline

Age. Twenty-five

Personal Pronouns. She/her or they/them

Activity Level. I will not lie to y’all, I work six days a week ten-hour days. But I also get very attached and want to stay up to date. Between those two, I like to stay up to date with the dash, but sometimes only get to post one or two times a week. Other times I’m always Here. There is no middle ground and I am so sorry

Timezone. EST

Triggers. REMOVED

How did you find the group. Let’s not talk about it (jk it was JJ and we’ve been knowing)

Current/Past RP Accounts. hutchingsb, brighidnolan, achillesgrieves

IN CHARACTER

Character. Michael

Are you comfortable with killing off your character. I sure am, pals. In fact, in the long run, I don’t think Michael should survive. I think he is too muddled in hypocrisy and his own arrogance to not be killed eventually. Especially if history repeated itself and Zadkiel killed him.

What drew you to this character. 

When I was a second semester senior in college (arguably the worst time in my life) I was finishing my degree in philosophy. While everything else went to shit, I took this truly incredible class called the Problem of Evil. I got lowkey obsessed with the concept of this ‘problem of evil’ and what it means for the existence of God. Michael is, in a lot of ways, this discussion in character form. Throughout the roleplay, Michael will have to come to terms with the idea that it’s incredibly hard to be a God type figure and be morally good. And that dynamic excites the fuck out of me y’all.

More than just this philosophical idea that I would literally go feral for, Michael is such a complex character. There are depths to him that just writing this app I got to uncover, and I think that will carry on through writing him always. There is so much potential there, and so much characterization to uncover that I don’t think I could ever tire of the archangel. This being fucks y’all

Plots. 

QUIS UT DUES. Who is like God? History repeats itself. Michael’s rise in the ranks and desperation for both mortals and demons to bend the knee to him shows this. He is not so unlike the figurehead he struck down. He will be forced to make choices that have to be made and enforce punishments that will seem to others merciless. The question truly is how does one become god-like without becoming God-like? What made God so wrong? What made it necessary for Michael to cut Him down? And does Michael even have the ability to notice the difference between the two? The answer, folks, is hell nah.

DEATH RIPENS. ONE NEEDS DEATH IN ORDER TO BE ABLE TO HARVEST THE FRUIT. The fall of God gave Michael the first taste of peace since he can remember. Centuries of carving out punishments and protection means that the archangel has dealt with death before, but it has never soothed him. It has only ever added to his despondency. So when he moved to cut down his own God, he figured the feeling would be much of the same. An intense sense of duty to all creatures and nothing more. The shock he felt at the momentary calm was enough to make him pause. And he is carrying that into his position of King. This idea of death as an action that ends with peace sits in the back of his mind. And it is hardening him into something crueler than he can recognize. 

THE APPALLING STRANGENESS OF THE MERCY OF GOD. Arrogance is almost second nature to the archangel. His pride and his self-worth have become tied into this idea of him becoming a better king, a better version of God. But Michael is also in for a harsh awakening when he has to realize that his idea of merciful, the standard he held God to, isn’t actually all that fair and just. How will he handle coming to terms with the fact that he cannot always be “merciful” and does this make him a hypocrite? If he raised a sword against his Father because He was not merciful, how will he come to terms with the realization that he, as this God-like figure, cannot be supremely good? Will he even be able to realize it at all, and what will push him to that edge?

BROTHER, THE CORD TO THIS WORLD IS A FRAYED ROPE. More than ever, Michael needs his brothers. And, more than ever, he cannot let them in. Michael has always held his position higher than his relationships, but it is more apparent now than ever. He wants the respect from his brothers, because he knows if they can kneel before him so can anyone. But that desire is sharply contrasted by his need for their earnestness. He did not realize the weight their voices held inside of his head until he could no longer hear them freely. I would love to play with this dynamic of Michael feeling isolated and alone without his brothers to act as a soundboard for his thoughts versus believing if he shows his hand too much to them he cannot be respected. This relationship epitomizes Michael’s struggle with finding his footing as a leader and not just a follower of God.

THEN YOU KISSED ME—I FELT HOT WAX ON MY FOREHEAD. Michael’s relationship with Zadkiel is going to cause me physical pain. Zadkiel is the only person who can truly understand the emotional state that Michael has existed in for millennia. He is the only person who has dealt with the conditional love that God had when loving a tool he could wield. And, as a result, Michael has acted the same way towards Zadkiel as God did towards him. His love is conditional on Zadkiel following his orders. But he has held him in high esteem, sought him out, wanted him by their side. There is a bond there that cannot be touched. Zakiel is their reflection in so many ways, and it hurts to look in that mirror. There is this push in pull, that for so long has been for the better but might be souring now in the wake of Michael’s actions. Where he originally could not be soft, could not be vulnerable, in front of the cherubim despite how much it would help him, he really cannot now. He cannot show himself weak to Zadkiel—in the same way God could not to Michael. It is fully a product of how they both have been loved by God, and it does the pair of them injustice. Following the fall of God, Michael has distanced himself from Zadkiel because of how much he sees himself in the other. The weakness he thinks he sees in Zadkiel is just the weakness he sees himself, but his arrogance can’t let him recognize that fully. So instead, he pushes the angel away. Makes the gap between them almost unbreachable, until he breaks again and needs the validation of someone he is constantly searching for that conditional love. Just like he did with God. Zadkiel’s hurt is the biggest doubt that tugs at Michael’s soul. It’s the thing that lets the thought ‘I made a mistake’ keep coming back to him. I would love to see the few moments of “weakness” where Michael allows Zadkiel—and only him—to see the real him especially in a counterpoint to him holding the cherubim at a distance.

I SENSED IN MYSELF A POTENTIALITY FOR CORRUPTION THAT TOOK MY BREATH AWAY. Viktoria is a mistake, but not one he’s ready to admit. Michael’s concept of love is well and truly fucked, because he has only known love from God. And mostly God had conditions for love that were based solely on when Michael acted most as a sword—something inanimate—and not as something conscious and feeling. So when the flicker of something akin to lust flared to life upon looking at Viktora, Micahel mistakes it for love. Or, at the very least, affection. He wants her gaze on him, wants her smiles. So much so that he cannot look through the careful veneer she has crafted. It’s a level of foolishness that he has not ever had to deal with before. Never even known existed, because his concept of love has never involved this kind of ‘love’.

I TOO A CARNIVOROUS LAMB. In a completely selfish turn of events, I think Michael’s relationship with Salome might be the one of the few times that they can show how successful they are. In this period of doubt and chaos, Michael keeps coming up short and having to put on a brave face. But in their dealings with Salome, they are in their element. They can feel the power he used to have as the weapon in God’s right hand when they deals with the demon. They can feel their power. And that’s probably the reason they seeks her out so often. To feel the comfort in something known. To feel useful, powerful, correct.

IN-DEPTH

Motivation. 

LIKE MOST MISERY, IT STARTED WITH APPARENT HAPPINESS. In the beginning, Michael’s sense of duty was unfailing. His motivations started and ended with following God’s word. And while his heart may have whispered softly at rebellion and betrayal in the face of an unjust God, he didn’t dare take heed to any of it. Now, he misses that easy calm that caming with knowing one's duty. He misses the simplicity of following orders. He does not wish to return to being a tool for someone else, but god was it easier.

THE PAIN, THE BEAUTY: EQUALLY ACUTE, EQUALLY TRANSFIXING. The present is a chaotic time for Michael. There is blood on their hands, doubt in their heart, and all they can do is show their kingdom a solemn face. He struggles to keep the facade of this all knowing, all understanding figure head that he just slaughtered. It’s so damn hard when the chorus of ‘did you do wrong’ almost drowns out his thoughts. Michael, in his current situation, craves a validation of his actions that very few can give them. And maybe, he craves something a little more too.

IT MEANT TO CONSUME, TO ASSIMILATE, TO BECOME GOD. What comes next for the King of Caelum? There is ambition there, that lives just under the surface. Something that has maybe always been there, setting ablaze his soul, but he has never been ready to put a name to it. He still isn’t able to name it, but the threads of it are starting to work their way around him. He knows of mortals, of their fickle natures and how they cannot be left to govern themselves. He knows of demons, of their cruelness and how they all function better when they bow their heads to one person. That person used to be God, but Michael is starting to realize how it could—no, should be him. Because Michael remembers what it was like to be adored. God showed favor to many an angel. It was clear in His doting hand and soft words. Cassiel knew it in His allowance of her beauty. Arael knew it in God’s soft sighs. But it was perhaps Michael who knew it best. There is more love in the carpertener for their hammer than in their work. More adoration in the painter's brush than in the creation they makes. Something deep and dark in Michael craves that love again. Ambition feels almost unheard of in the hierarchy he is used to, but there it is, sitting at the base of his chest. And it will likely be the death of him.

Traits. 

HEROIC. Inspiring, brave, damn good at his job

CONSTANT. Calm in the face of chaos, unwavering in all actions

UNDERSTANDING. More merciful than he should be jk unless

ARCHAIC. Stick in the mud, old fashioned, proper. A pain in the ass to deal with.

PROUD. When God put you on a pedestal for that long it’s really hard to climb down yo

CRITICAL. I mean

SAMPLE

“all gods who receive homage are cruel.

all gods dispense suffering without reason.”

HOW TO FORGE A WEAPON

FIGURE 1.

It means something to be made. To be created in the eyes of God. To become something more, something good, something holy and something full of righteousness. All because God deemed it to be so. Around him, his brethren understand this. They feel it deep within themselves, as each and every one of them is handcrafted. But Michael is different. He is not simply made, because he is a weapon.

And, by God’s own hand, Michael is forged.

FIGURE 2.

God molds him. 

That he holds on to. The one truth he knows more than anything. God makes him. He makes him a weapon. Molds him into a sword. He crafts Michael solely as a tool to do His bidding, but He makes him all the same. So Michael follows without thought. A gift to his creator. 

Because a weapon only does.

They spends days upon days in practice, in battle. Besting angel upon angel. With every win, they sees God smile, and something warms sparks into life deep in the cold of their chest. Something physical. Something hot. It sets his body ablaze, empassions him to try more, to push harder. Michael flips the sword out of the grasp of his opponent, recognizing the move coming two steps before it happens. He doesn’t have to think, he only has to do.

 He’ll put a name to this feeling eventually. Later he will learn to understand what the fire in their soul means. But for now, he just stands in awe of his Father’s smile—a smile that is only for them and theirdeeds—and the warmth that it causes. It is the start of something dangerous for, what God fails to realize, that, out of nothing but sheer carelessness, He has taught his weapon to want.

And that? It’ll be the death of Him.

FIGURE 3.

He’s younger than he cares to admit and God gives them a bird. The world is still new. Bright and green in its creation. It’s perfect, Angels sing. Michael wants to agree but the mortals have already shown the treachery of their nature. And he has already learned how to cut down those who might have lifted their hand in blasphemy.

(Eve has taken the apple, Michael sharpens their sword.)

The bird is a falcon, and Michael names her Brenley. She is built for speed and her talons feel as sharp as the sword on his hip. He thinks he loves her, this fiercely delicate creature. She is his and he, in turn, hers. They travel the world together, witness the artistry and destruction God’s newest creations unfold. Michael stands an impartial beacon, watching it all.

Theoretically they know that Brenley is a test, as all things are with God. It is Michael’s first chance to deal with death. God showing him how mortality takes and takes and there is no stopping it. 

But birds live years. So they have time. They push the thoughts of tests and traps and their own shortcomings to the back of their mind. 

Brenley does not have years. She has only five and they are desperately short in the face of a millennia. 

With thoughts of death and endings locked away, he enters the world of man, a bird by his side. The moment is like any other. Nothing different from any number of times Michael has walked among the mortals. He is still learning of how crooked their nature is and yet how soft they can be. It still makes him smile. Brenley makes a single sound, a warning Michael does not understand, so their smile does not falter. Eyes find the bird, high amidst the trees, as the sound reaches their ears. A long low whistle, and then a snap. An arrow flies through the sky. It’s rudimentary, human made, but it does it’s job. Brenley stills. 

And then? Then she falls.

Like a rock, the bird drops from the sky. Her wings tucked to her, a nearly perfect and endless fall. Except it does. End. She hits the ground with a sound, sickening and hollow. He rushes to her side, but it’s too late. 

There is no life left in her.

There is a softness in his features and wetness in his eyes when he turns to the Father. The broken body of what once was settled gently in his hands. Michael is still too new to learn how to steel their face into the mask of iron befitting of the weapon they are. They don’t even know to try. He knows at least not to beg. He’s seen angel, mortal and demon beg God time and time again. Michael has seen the answer that follows. Michael has been the answer that follows.

So instead he asks. A simple word.

“Please.”

God just smiles and shakes his head. A solemn but distinctive no. There is a scream that wretches its way through his body, but when he opens his mouth, it does not come out. But it is not for the loss, this noise that threatens to deafen him. It is for the foolishness in thinking he might change God’s mind. The stupidity in thinking he could be more than an angel formed blade. 

There is no thought, no desire in steel. Nothing but the familiar cold of the pommel and a strong sense of duty.

Michael straightens his back, rigid and iron like. He buries a bird.

It’s the first time Michael truly deals in death. It’s the first time he lets death touch him. Later, when he’s picking away at the pieces of his soul, he’ll wish he’d never let it reach that deep. Because wound tightly around his heart, death holds tight.

It may never let them go.

FIGURE 4.

He remembers every lesson he has ever learned at God’s side. The ones that were easy are sweet and simple. The ones that came hard, something darker and richer. He remembers the ones that tasted bittersweet. He remembers victory and failure. And he remembers the Father’s smile when Michael had pleased Him. There are whispers amongst his brethren. They fall silent when they approach, but they do not sit at God’s right side for nothing. He hears them, and their discontent. They think he does not understand, and maybe they are right.

But what they have failed to realize is that Michael never forgets. Not even a single moment. 

And yet, he still asks.

The girl is only three and Michael cannot find the logic behind it. There are no sins that weigh down her soul, no wrong doings she is being held to. Her parents even are good people, loyal to God. All that means nothing but it causes the sting they feel upon looking at her to vibrate deep within them. There is no reason for her death beside the abject horror of it. All Michael can see when he looks at her is a bird plummeting to the ground, wings held too close. And when she cries, he can hear the sinking thud of something so very mortal slipping between his fingers. The sound of a bird that hit the ground.

So he asks, the want burning him up from the inside.

God just smiles and shakes his head.

A solemn but distinctive no.

Something inside of Michael breaks and he does not know how to fix it. Because God did not teach him this lesson. He must learn it on his own.

FIGURE 5.

At the end, it is not himself who needs convincing but the Cherubim by his side. Some of him has known this ending and its inevitability since the moment he first craved one damning smile. Michael just wishes it would hurt Zadkiel a little less. Wishes he could have understood the crueller nature of their Father—how it’s only ever led Zadkiel to pain—so much sooner. ‘Poor Zadkiel’, he’ll think, instead of ‘poor Michael’.

(He forces his brethren to withstand the weight of his emotions as well as their own.)

“Help me finish this.” It wants to be a command, Michael is so good at commanding. But in the shadow of what is about to come, he cannot stop himself from asking. He needs Zadkiel on his side, needs him to understand this is right.

This is right.

This is for the best.

Michael must kill God.

There is one small nod, one small validation, and it soothes the frantic beating of his heart. The thing that started this journey in the first place. It does not go unnoticed to him that it is something else, someone else, that finally settles them into action. He turns from the Cherubim, Zadkiel’s job is done. The doors swing wide on his command.

He is a weapon, forged for duty without mercy, and that is how he stands before Him. The blade to His throat comes quickly. Michael knows His every move before it comes. This is his Father, this is who first held a sword against him. And Michael has never forgotten.

So God falls.

The thunder shakes the ground on which he stands. It should feel like a victory, but as he hauls in one short breath, Michael feels hollow. He mistakes it for peace.

And then he sees it, a flash of silver to follow the body of the Father. He knows the blade as Zadkiel’s just as he knows his own. Something dark and heavy settles around his heart.

Weak. He thinks, and the thought weighs heavier on his head than the crown he just won.

“half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers

real gods require blood.”

Extras 

WINGS. From afar, Michael’s wings look soft and simple. A brilliant bronze and gold to rival that of his own weapon. But as one comes closer, it is clear that their wings are much more sinister in nature. Each “feather” is in fact a small, sharp weapon. The color of bronze fades way to the real metal. Michael’s wings, like all of him, are a weapon.

FIGHTING STYLE. At his side, Michael carries a sword. It has been his favored blade since gifted to him by God. It is more rapier than broadsword, and Michael favors a more elegant form of battle. He is a dueler by nature, the finesse of the craft allows for him to show off at one of the things he is most proficient at. But at the end of the day, Michael is a being made to destroy. Backed into a corner, he has the strength and fight to hold his own.

FASHION. There is an ease and simplicity to Michael’s style. Nothing is overstated. In fact, he looks almost subdued in the face of some of his brethren. But Michael knows his strengths, and it is the understated nature of his garments that draw the eye. Because, just when you think there is nothing to see, the intricate details of some fabric or the sparkle of something crystalline and expensive will catch the eye.

TAG. MOCKBLOG

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 5 - The Devil in Me

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

The second part of a gap fill for 1x13, Poison. TW for illness, hospitals, and drug mentions. Also super minor character death? 

After JJ, Reid, and Hotch learn a little more about Kit's family, the nurse-out-of-water feels the effects of the field crash over her. As she and Gideon continue to butt heads, she wonders how this is ever going to work. She's helpful in her own right, but if she can't get the respect and the support of the whole team, how will she ever belong?

The ride to the hotel was comfortable enough. Reid and Kit sat in the back while JJ sat in the passenger seat, and the communications liaison took her chance to pick and pry when Kit couldn’t escape her questions. She’d been trying since the moment Kit had been shuffled onto their team, but Kit had been able to avoid it thus far. She hated ‘get to know you’ questions, as they reminded her of terrible high school teachers and their lack-luster ice breakers.

“So, Kit, do you have siblings?”

Kit nodded, though the woman couldn't see her. She’d play along, of course, and this was an easy question. She loved talking about her siblings.

“Oh, yeah. There’s nine of us.”

Reid made a sound next to her that sounded like choking, but when she looked he wasn’t dying. He was instead, astonished.

“Nine?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, “nine.”

Hotch knew that, he’d read her file, but he asked anyway, “What number are you?”

“Five,” Kit said before smiling, “sort of? There’s Wash, and then Ginny and Seese. Ari, and Monty, and I. Then George, and Alex, and Lina’s the baby.”

“That puts you sixth,” Reid said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Kit was suddenly ten years old.

Didn’t we just have a pseudo heart-to-heart about being treated like a child?

Kit tried not to roll her eyes before she remembered that the only one who knew about Ari and Monty was Morgan. And, probably Hotch, of course.

“Ari and Monty and I are triplets,” she said evenly, “and technically, I was born second of the three of us.”

“Wow,” JJ said, “triplets? I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“It’s great, actually,” Kit assured, not being able to stop the spreading smile on her face. “We get along really well. Monty and I are actually monozygotic twins, which means-”

“Monozygotic twins, often called identical twins, are the result of one egg fertilized by one sperm that experiences postzygotic division.”

Reid’s voice was rougher than before, telling of the fact that the medicine she’d given him had worn off, as he effectively cut her off. She tried not to take offense at him interrupting her and telling her about her own fetal development. He’d interrupted others in several conversations. Regardless, she felt her lips tug into a frown.

“Exactly. My Gran used to say that Monty and I have twin souls, though my mam and dad have always said that Ari was one half of the soul, and we were the other half, you know, together.”

JJ turned all the way around in her seat, grinning as she listened to Kit speak of her family.

“So, Ari and Monty are nicknames, right?”

Kit nodded again, frown dissipating.

“Right. My parents immigrated from Ireland, and they spoke Irish, or Gaelic, better than English. They wanted to stick out less, or so they say, so they, well,” she thought for a moment before she couldn’t stop the small giggle forcing its way up her throat. “They thought it would be a really good idea to name their kids after the states. Like, literal American states.”

“Like Dakota,” Hotch offered, and Kit wrinkled her nose. 

“Yeah, like Dakota. My family all call me Kody, but I prefer Kit.”

“And Monty is, what? Montana?” JJ asked, now looking determined. As if it was some kind of game.

Kit nodded again, saying, “Exactly. The thing is that some states, like thankfully Dakota, are names. But some…” She shrugged lightly, “Not so much.”

“Can I guess?”

JJ, not surprising to Kit, was giving off a competitive energy that would rival the one she got off Morgan the few times they’d raced at the track.

“She could just tell us,” Reid offered, but JJ just scoffed.

“No way, Spence. You’re just afraid you’re going to lose.”

Reid narrowed his eyes at her, and though Kit could feel his slight trembling next to her, fever burning once again, she knew he wasn’t going to back down. He even gave her and JJ half a smirk before saying, “You’re on.”

In the end, it was Hotch that came up with a surprising upset. Reid was vehemently denying that ‘Seese’ was a nickname for Tennessee, and JJ was still upset that Reid won the “guess what number I’m thinking of” game and got to go first.

“No way that’s fair,” she’d complained when Reid gave a small, raspy noise of victory and guessed that Wash was short for Washington, obviously.

Hotch had gotten lucky and gone second, securing that George was actually Kit’s younger sister, Georgia, and had gotten that Lina was Carolina, the baby of their very large family.

“You went after Carolina right away, Hotch,” JJ said, laughing at Reid’s dejected mumbling. That was the second time he’d lost a game that day.

“Familiar territory.”

“Is that so?” Kit asked, raising an eyebrow at the stern man in the driver’s seat. “Did you work in their field office?”

“No, I worked in their Walmart,” he said simply, turning into the parking lot of their hotel. He didn’t add or give any more about it, and they didn’t pry, though Kit had to fight a grin at the idea that their stern unit chief could be secretly southern.

-----

Hotch checked in and passed them their keys, Kit taking hers with slightly wide eyes. She’d only stayed in a hotel a few times, and the idea that she was now left to her own devices in a hotel she’d never been in, in a state she didn’t know, really got her mind racing. She realized quickly that no one else was feeling the anxiety she was. They were all familiar with this, and it seemed to be easy for them to turn off the part of their brain that was working on the case.

Instead, she was running her brain, trying to think of anything she knew that could help them catch the unsub that was hurting these people. She dealt in people. People were her thing. People were the reason she had been assigned to the pilot position she was in. The reason she was in New Jersey when she could just as easily be home, getting ready for bed while she listened to Ari sing around their apartment as he got ready for his shift. 

They would give the profile. The team would give the profile and she would watch with JJ. She would try to help however she was asked, and she would keep an eye on Reid while being sensitive to not treat him like a child. 

She followed JJ and Reid up to their floor, Hotch having stayed to give the others their keys, and nodded and responded politely when JJ had wished her goodnight. Reid hadn’t done as much, though she had missed his attempt to get her attention before she’d closed her door behind her.

Once inside she drew what could have passed for her first real breath all day. Between Reid’s sniffling, apologizing to Morgan, the jet, the hospital, taking care of Reid without making him feel like a child, and tiptoeing around Gideon- Which didn’t even work! - Kit was stretched too thin. With the door shut, the only emotions she could pick up on were her own. Which, honestly, we’re never just her own.

Ari and Monty called them Big Feelings; them being the swelling and surging of her own emotions that were kept buried to grow as the day went on. She could tend to the needs of others and keep her own feelings in check, but the thing about Kit was that the more she dealt with others, the more the feelings being buried in her chest compounded. Try as she might, she couldn’t really differentiate between what she created herself and what she took from others. 

Most days were perfectly fine. It wasn’t like everyone around her was melting down simultaneously, every single day. But some days, when there’d been so much and there were so many people and so many situations, she absolutely crashed.

In retrospect, she held on for longer than she thought she would, the deep, even breaths she was drawing distracting her from the energy that built. Her fingers working to unzip her go bag. She pulled out her pajamas, shedding her jacket and cardigan before making her way to take a shower. 

She took out her contacts. Shed the rest of her clothes. Took her shower. Brushed her teeth. Braided her hair. 

She kept her breathing even through every motion, changing into her pajamas and settling cross legged on the bed. Her fingers of her right hand tapped lightly on her thigh while the fingers of her left pulled tightly at her braided, sopping wet hair. The right braid was dripping clean shower water onto her shoulder, the left sending a slow cascade of water down her arm. She sat for five minutes that way, breathing evenly, staring at the blurry white wall in front of her and willing herself not to crash. Not to crash. Not to crash.

And then, she crashed.

All at once, everything in her body felt like it was vibrating. Her breaths came in hitches that were shallow and choppy, her chest heaving sharply with each one. Nothing like the pace she’d been trying to keep for that last fifteen minutes. They sputtered and cut each other off, tears running down her cheeks and falling in large drops, adding to where her braids had already left dark wet spots on her pale yellow tee shirt. 

It wasn’t loud. It had never been loud, regardless of the way her mind seemed to be screaming. She was way too warm, warmer than she had been in the steaming water of the shower. Her chest ached with a flurry of feelings that flashed and passed so quickly she couldn’t hope to name them. It left her helpless, hands clenching and unclenching, fingers occasionally scratching up and down her arms or thighs. The emotional overload left her with internal mania and, other than her fingers roaming and tears flowing, external shutdown. She didn’t have to bury anymore. The emotional zombies of the last eighteen hours could come to light.

Ari always let her come down on her own time. Sometimes he held her tightly, and sometimes he left her to her own devices. Most of the time he stayed in the same space. On the couch opposite her. Sat at the kitchen table as she sat on the counter. Cross legged at the end of her bed.  He didn’t try to have her put the thoughts or emotions into words. He didn’t press her or tell her it would be okay. That she was okay, because really, she wasn’t. He just let it pass. 

She knew it could be as short as ten minutes or as long as forty five. One time, an hour, but that was the first time she’d lost a patient. The time didn’t matter as much to her. Ten or sixty, the number of minutes always felt like an eternity. She didn’t know how long it would take this time, sat in a New Jersey hotel room. Especially when on top of everything else, she felt so completely alone.

As far as Kit was aware, it could have been seven minutes or seven hours when the thing that finally grounded her back to the real world was a steady three-wrap knock at her door. Her hands stilled instantly, the deepest breath she’d taken since the wave crashed over her almost making her dizzy. 

Her head swiveled towards the door, and it was a moment before her mind could catch up. She was in her hotel room. Someone was knocking on the door.

Get up and open it. Come on, Kody. Stand up and open the door.

She swallowed thickly, wiping a shaking hand down her face. The bed was close to the door, and while she sat staring at the door, the knock came again. Three wraps in rapid succession. Her brain started to catch up, the distraction pulling her out of the waves she was drowning in.

Hotch? Could it be Hotch? Did someone actually get poisoned this late at night? Gideon was right, she shouldn’t have said anything. Now it was going to be her fault and there would be disappointment and anger and annoyance and-

Stop.

It took longer than it should have for her to pull herself off of the mattress, shaking her head quickly as if to expel the internal debate. Everything in her chest told her not to get up, but her head won and allowed her to quickly scramble from her spot and pad across the room. 

In hindsight, she should have checked to make sure she didn’t look like a complete disaster. She never had to worry about that at home, so it hadn’t crossed her mind how she might be perceived as she stood there; pajamas on, wet hair, flushed, tear tracks and red eyes against shaky pale skin. 

She squinted at the person on the other side of the door once she all but flung it open. Tall. Dark hair. Tee shirt. Skinny. To her untrained and straining eyes, she was unsure who she was looking at.

Before the other person could speak she held up her hand, still trembling, and turned to dig in her backpack. The glasses she pulled out were seldom used, but she had lost a contact on three separate occasions in the last year, and she wasn’t going to fly half-blind into a crisis. 

She turned, unceremoniously shoving the thin frames onto her face, and looked at her offender.

Spencer Reid. Pale as ever, clearly fever flushed, and looking at her with glassy-eyed concern.

“Are you crying?” is what he ended up asking before stifling a raspy coughing fit into his elbow. 

Kit narrowed her burning eyes at him, but there were no lasers in her stare. Confusion, and exasperation, but not the lasers she’d set on him all those hours before.

“Do you need something? I thought you went to bed.”

He cleared his throat and winced, swallowing as if it was physically painful before he came up with, “I did. I was. Um, I mean, I was try-trying to? I, um.” 

His hands came up to wring together at waist height, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. Uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable. Probably from having come into her personal space where she was very obviously having a very private meltdown.

“You were trying to… oh.” It took longer for her to piece together than it should have. Her mind was still foggy, trying to stay above the waves she’d just been so jarringly pulled from. “You were trying to sleep and you couldn’t.”

“Yes,” he supplied quickly, “Because, well,” he sighed, a hand going to run through his hair. He curled his arms over his chest then, clearing his throat again. “Because my head is pounding and I’m freezing and my throat hurts. And the stuff you had earlier helped. And I was… I was wondering if-”

She did cut him off now, having been careful not to up to that point, but she could feel his discomfort growing the longer he tried to explain himself. He was struggling to be vulnerable, and she wasn’t going to make it worse by allowing him to trip over himself longer than necessary.

“If I had more.”

“Yes.” 

“Of course I do, sit down,” she supplied, gesturing awkwardly to the bed she’d just been sat on, taking a breath and straightening her shoulders. 

She never had to turn back on after she’d let herself shut down. It was always, always in times where she knew she could be either asleep or a zombie for the rest of the night, and she was trying to fight back to functioning as she dug through her backpack once more.

She heard him take a moment before settling down on the bed, sniffling a few times in a way that made Kit want to scream, but instead just caused her to dig more frantically. 

Blue pills. Blue pills. Come on, Dakota, where are they? Why is your bag such a mess? Why are you such a mess? Reid probably thinks you can’t handle this, and how he’s going to tell Gideon, and they’re going to tell Hotch, and-

“Are you okay?”

Her hands froze in between a wrist brace and a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“Yes,” she said evenly, though her whole body tensed, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he said quietly, “You’re breathing picked up, and when you answered the door, you were crying. And the longer you look through your backpack the more agitated you seem.”

It was quiet for a moment. Kit didn’t resume her digging, but instead turned to face Reid at his spot atop her bed. 

“What happened to not profiling one another?” She asked after a moment. 

His eyebrows pulled together, searching for a moment before his head tilted, tongue flicking over chapped lips before he offered, “It’s okay if this is hard. Gideon always says that-”

“It’s not,” she said, effectively cutting him off for the second time in the five minutes he’d been in her room. She didn’t care at all what Gideon always said.

He looked unconvinced, suspicion flooding off of him, in addition to the sick feeling he’d already been sending her way. 

She could feel her hands clenching, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

He has no idea. He has no idea so you can’t be upset with him. He doesn’t know anything about you. He probably thinks you’re just as incompetent as Gideon does. Don’t give him any fuel for the fire.

“It’s not hard,” she said, just a bit softer than before. “I’m perfectly capable, and I’m tired. Here.” 

She turned and pulled the blue blister pack out of her backpack, hand suddenly knowing exactly where it was.

Naturally.

“Take these. I’ll give you the other ones in the morning.”

Reid looked down at the pills for a moment before he worried at his lip, eyes nervous as he asked, “You’re really not going to tell Hotch?”

“No, Reid, I’m really not going to tell Hotch. And I won’t tell Gideon either. No one knows. Go to sleep.”

She watched as he took a moment before nodding at her, standing up and heading for the door. He was halfway through before he turned and shifted his weight on his feet.

“Dakota?”

I might kill this one. Just this one.

“Reid?”

“Thank you,” he said softly, “again. I’m sorry that I intruded.”

She watched him for a moment before she shook her head. She realized that the trembling had stopped, and she didn’t feel as foggy anymore. Having a distraction, even if the distraction sniffled and asked probing questions and used her first name, it had helped.

She let herself give him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. Get some sleep.”

He nodded gently, returning her half smile with one of his own.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She watched as he closed the door, the room becoming isolated again. She settled back on the bed, only allowing herself to be lost for a moment before she shut the light out.

-----

“We believe whoever poisoned these people was motivated by revenge,” Hotch was saying. They’d met early to give the profile, but it was later than they’d wanted when they were finally able to gather all the officers. 

They were all pushed to one side of the room, sitting on various surfaces or standing in the middle where they could easily be seen. Kit had sat on top of the desk Reid was sitting in, wordlessly pressing a cup of tea into his slightly trembling hands. They’d found a moment when they weren’t being watched for her to slip the pills into his hand, but she’d only been able to find a drink just before Hotch had begun.

Morgan was continuing what Hotch had started, and Reid took the moment to slip the medication into his mouth, chasing it with a too-large sip of too-hot tea. Kit had to hold her snicker at the face he pulled.

“The randomness of the victimology - average people in an average-sized town... All points to a local resident.”

“We know that people who poison for the purpose of revenge primarily act alone,” Elle continued. 

“However,” Hotch added, “he may have manipulated someone close to him to assist him. The unsub usually disposes of these accomplices when they're of no further use to him.”

Kit listened as they bounced around, all taking a part of the profile to deliver. She paid attention as closely as she could, taking in everything that was being said, and wishing that she could be able to see what they all saw.

She focused on Reid saying, ”This individual was savvy enough to use rohypnol to obstruct our investigation, erasing the memories of the victims of how they were poisoned,” and she felt herself nodding along with him, listening closely to his voice and watching to see if anyone had picked up on what she’d been trying to help him mask. 

So far her efforts seemed successful, and she let herself feel good about that. She could take care of this team. Hotch’s faith was well placed.

She focused back on the profile again, her heart sinking when the emotions in the room shifted dramatically. Gideon had said that a lot of people could die, and everyone had flooded the room with varying levels of anxiety. 

A lot of people could die, and they had limited time to find him.

JJ came up behind them, drawing the attention of the profilers around her. She whispered quietly to Hotch, though it was quiet everywhere now, and her words caused quick movement in every body that filled the small room.

“We have a leak.”

The small television in the station was turned on immediately, grainy and nearly not loud enough for them all to hear. 

“That's right, Steve. Neighbors became aware something was wrong when a local Beechwood restaurant closed early. From inside sources, we learned that representatives of the CDC began testing food inside the restaurant.”

Gideon spoke over the woman for a moment, a wave of agitation flying off of him. “If you're gonna report the story, name the restaurant.”

“Unconfirmed, we were told that some of the food had been tainted with hallucinogenic drugs,” the reporter continued, and Kit understood exactly what Gideon meant. 

“Name the restaurant,” he said again, and Kit found herself standing from her spot atop the desk. Spencer raised an eyebrow at her, but she gravitated towards the TV wordlessly.

“Until we do confirm all of this, we will not release the name of the restaurant. We'll only say it's a Beechwood area favorite. This is Suzanne Whang reporting live from Beechwood. Back to you, Steve.”

“Damn it,” Kit said forcefully, surprising herself a bit at the venom in her words. She rarely swore in English, and she went a bit pink at the thought that Irish would have probably been a more appropriate choice. 

Gideon was glaring daggers at her, not really looking like he cared much what she had said, but that she’d spoken at all.

“They didn't name the restaurant,” JJ said, not paying attention to anyone else. She sounded dejected, but kept her tone more even than Kit had. 

“What is it?” Detective Hanover said, looking confused.

“Call the local hospital, make sure they know what's coming. Excuse me,” Gideon said. Kit started to move before she realized he had been talking to JJ. 

Heat welled inside of her. He was asking JJ to contact the hospital when she was standing right there. She understood, of course, that JJ’s job was communication, but she was the one that had been running point with the hospital. Especially the day before, when she and Reid had nearly spent the whole day there. The pink of her face flushed to red, and her hands clenched.

“Where do your 911 calls get routed?” Hotch asked Hanover. His calm determination set her straight back into the throws of what was happening. The restaurant. No name given. People were going to freak out, no doubt in her mind. 

“There's a county phone bank. They contact first responders, the fire department.”

“Alert them, too. They're going to need additional personnel and any other backup you've got. Auxiliary cops. You're going to have to call them.” 

“But, why?”

Though Hotch was stoic and calm, Kit could feel the tense energy he now had. It would be a mess to get everything under control once the storm hit. 

“Because we're going to have a heck of a time just calming people down and we really don't need the confusion to interfere with our investigation,” Hotch answered, calm never failing. 

“Do you want me to start making those calls?” An officer asked readily, and Kit watched as that set Hanover right off the edge. 

He moved to the center of the room and started yelling, hands in the air.

Here we go.

“No, no, no, no. Hey, hey! Everybody please shut up for a minute. Tell me what this is all about.” 

There was a moment where everything stopped. JJ stood with the phone at her ear. All eyes were on Hanover, mostly surprise and confusion around them. 

Then the phones started. They all rang, loud and overlapping, deafening almost everything else in the air. 

There was a moment before Gideon simply said, “Panic.”

It took a moment for there to be any sort of control. People were answering phones left and right, including Kit, who was back at the desk she and Reid had started in.

“We can’t comment at this time, thank you,” she said for at least the fifth time, hanging the phone up and looking at Reid.

“How are you doing?”

“I’ll be far better when this is over,” he said, taking a sip from the tea she knew was probably now lukewarm at best. He got up and they moved to where JJ and Hotch were, following the lead of Elle and Morgan. 

“I just got off with the hospital. They're swamped with over 50 potential poisonings from local restaurants, but no hallucinations,” JJ said, hanging up the phone and looking around.

“Another poisoning?” Morgan asked.

“Or maybe more hysteria,” Hotch

“We've looked into any civil or criminal complaints from employees, ex-employees, Suppliers, regulars at the cafe. Not one good lead,” Hanover said. 

He was dejected. The inability to control what was happening to his own town was what Kit guessed had him giving off such a feeling of hopelessness.

“There's got to be somebody connected to that cafe who pops as a suspect,” Gideon said, rifling through some papers.

“Morgan, you wanna go back there, see if we can find another angle?” Elle suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt,” he said. 

The two of them turned to leave, and Hotch looked at the three still standing there. “JJ, you, Colghain, and Reid go to the hospital. See if any of the poisonings seem legit.”

-----

When they got to the hospital, JJ and Reid both waited for a moment outside the door. Kit stopped in her tracks, following their lead. There was an awkward moment before she said,

“What are we waiting for? Is someone meeting us?”

JJ shook her head, giving Kit a small smile.

“We’re following you. I made contact with the hospital, but I’m not sure exactly who is the best point of contact in an ER overrun like this. I assumed you do.”

Kit couldn’t help but give a small smile at the warmth that flooded her chest at those words. She and JJ hadn’t talked a lot, but between their guessing game in the car the night before, and the even temper and apt social skills she showed, Kit really respected and liked her. She was good to work with, and clearly knew how to read a room.

“I do. Stay out of the way as best you can and stay close, there will definitely be gurneys going in and out.”

They walked in, flashing their badges as they crossed back into the busy ER. There were gurneys as Kit had predicted, and she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of panic flooding the small ER hallway they found themselves in. She could feel JJ and Reid close to her, and she stopped the first nurse she saw.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Colghain with the FBI,” she said quickly, using a different title than she normally would. The nurse was holding a file, she didn’t have the moment Kit needed to assure her competence.

“The FBI has nurses?” The young nurse said, clearly a little skeptical, but antsy as she glanced towards her assumed destination.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kit said, speaking as she would to any of her nurses back at the clinic. “Where can I find your Head?”

“Nurses’ Station. Nurse Leah. Tall, dark hair. Excuse me.” She scampered off, but Kit had all she needed.

She led JJ and Spencer to the Nurses’ Station and spotted a tall, dark haired woman who was exuding calm, though just beneath it was clear uncertainty. 

“That’s her,” she said to Reid and JJ without turning around. “Excuse me,” she said louder, “Nurse Leah?”

The woman turned, searching for a moment before she spotted the out-of-place agents.

“Yes? Who are you?”

“I’m Nurse Cloghain with the FBI. This is Agent Jareau and Doctor Reid. Can we have a minute?”

Nurse Leah shook her head quickly, scowling a bit as the three agents bellied up to the Nurse’ Station wall.

“I really can't talk right now. We just got hammered,” she said, starting to walk away.

“Listen,” Kit said, moving to follow her, “most of these food poisonings are probably psychosomatic.”

“What makes you think that?” Nurse Leah said, her attitude changing to one of skepticism and annoyance.

“A news broadcast just reported a local restaurant was poisoned. Now, it would be a huge coincidence if there was another poisoning right after that aired,” JJ said, her voice shifting from the friendliness she’s used outside the hospital door to the political tightness she used with reporters.

“So what do you want me to do?” Nurse Leah said, her eyes darting between them.

“Help us find out which cases, if any, are real,” Reid said, posture straight, not a tremble in sight. He either felt great, or he was masking incredibly well.

“People are coming in with all kinds of complaints,” she said, “But, there's at least one case that isn't psychosomatic. She's barely breathing.”

Reid’s eyebrows pulled together, “Can you take us to the doctor that's treating that patient?”

Nurse Leah nodded, moving to take them with her. Reid and Kit moved to follow, but JJ started to walk away.

“I'll call Hotch,” she assured, and the two others nodded, letting her disappear down the hallway.

The doctor they were passed off to took them down the hallway and towards the patient’s room, talking all the while.

“When the patient got here, she didn't remember anything about her day. And her speech was so slurred, I could barely understand her.” He said. His body language was favored toward Reid once he’d been introduced as “Doctor,” but they hadn’t gotten to clarify that he was not that kind of doctor. Still, Kit hoped his genius brain could make connections faster than her medically inclined one could.

“It sounds like rohypnol,” Reid said, “Did you test her?”

They walked into the patient's room and Kit’s eyes went wide. She was coughing desperately, the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth doing little to prevent it.

“She was positive for rohypnol, negative for LSD. But, we're running more tests because rohypnol alone doesn't explain her symptoms. She presented with nausea, difficulty swallowing, labored breathing. She was also having trouble moving her legs.”

“How long had she been sick?” JJ asked.

“She didn't know. I could barely understand her when she first got her. Now, she can't speak at all.”

“And she’d been coughing like that the whole time?” Kit asked, glancing to the bed. Her heart ached at the panic she felt coming from the ill woman.

“Yes, consistently.”

“Do you know any biological agents that have similar symptoms: Ricin, Sarin gas?” Reid asked quietly, his back turned to the bed.

“You think this is a biological attack?” The doctor said, keeping his expression even.

“We can't rule anything out,” Reid said, eyebrows raised and arms crossed firmly over his middle. 

The doctor took a moment before he said, “I'll order a few more tests.”

Hotch arrived not very long after, meeting Kit, Reid, and JJ outside of the patient, Lynn Dempsey’s room. They bounced around ideas, but nothing seemed to stick. At one point Kit used “finding the restroom” as an excuse to dig out more pills for Reid, and the two of them did a seamless pass off in front of the decrepit coffee machine. 

It wasn’t twenty minutes before there was a call for Hotch, the unit chief pulling the phone to his ear.

“Morgan, it's Hotch. What's up?”

JJ’s voice came out sharp, having been looking into Ms. Dempsey’s room. “Guys, I think she's trying to say something.”

The three of them flooded into her room, getting close to the bed as she leaned towards them.

“The en,” she said. Her voice carried almost no weight, though the urgency was obvious. 

“The end?” JJ asked, looking at Reid and Kit. Kit shook her head, and Reid leaned forward.

“She may be incoherent from the lack of oxygen,” he said, eyes scanning. Kit moved closer to the bed, leaning in just a bit.

“Can you say it again, Ms. Dempsey?” She said gently. The tone and pacing she used with patients came second-nature to her, and it didn’t take any effort to shift from self conscious BAU draft to Head Nurse. 

“It’s the en-” Ms. Dempsey tried again before being cut off by coughs that sounded as if they were already choking her. 

“Doctor!” JJ called quickly, panic flooding from her, and Kit turned towards the other two agents. 

“Give her some space,” she said, not allowing wiggle room in her tone. She started moving back herself, drawing the other two with her. “Here, let’s give some room.”

The doctor came in, setting down the new tox screen and working quickly over Ms. Dempsey. It was a few minutes before things calmed enough for Kit to ask calmly,

“Doctor, do you mind if I look at that?”

She gestured to the tox screen, to which he nodded quickly. Kit picked it up and started rifling through it, listening as JJ asked, “So, what are the chances that she's not poisoned, that maybe she just got some bad food?”

“Highly improbable. Chances are basically nil,” he said. 

Hotch came to stand beside Reid.

“What is the rate of survival?” Reid asked.

“This dose,” the doctor said, “without anti-toxin... Zero.” 

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

Kit’s voice came quickly and quietly, eyes darting up from the tox screen. “Botulism.”

There was a moment of quiet before a Nurse said with seriousness, “Doctor, her BP is dropping rapidly.”

“It's sepsis. Give another amp of epi,” he said.

“She's going into defib.”

“She's crashing! Get the paddles.”

Kit watched as the nurses and doctor worked over Ms. Dempsey. She’d been on her share of crash teams, but she’d never just watched and done nothing as a patient started to code right in front of her. They were paging a code blue, starting CPR, and everything in her screamed that she should be helping. She should be doing something. She should be moving, or speaking, or reading charts and screens and percentages. Something. Anything.

The problem was, she didn’t know if she was allowed. She had no idea what the rules were about jumping on a code in a hospital that wasn’t yours. She’d never had to. She’d never talked to Hotch about anything like that. Her job was with the BAU, only assisting on cases that were medical. 

This case was medical, but where was the line?

“The test run is over,” Reid said, swallowing hard and heading out of the room.

He jarred her from her thoughts, and her eyes went to follow him as he walked out.

JJ followed immediately, but Kit stood there for a few extra moments before she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned away from Reid’s receding frame, looking up to see Hotch. His eyes held the same soft kindness they always did, and he gestured over his shoulder wordlessly. 

Kit took one last look at Lynn Dempsey, the doctor and nurses performing CPR on her lifeless body, before turning and following Hotch out of the hospital room.

Kit tried not to think of Lynn Dempsey as a patient dying in a hospital. She tried to think of Lynn Dempsey as a person outside of oxygen masks and heart monitors and charge paddles. 

It wasn’t helping that they went back to the police station, where the profilers sifted through her life in an attempt to see if she was a murderer.

“Lynn Dempsey was an executive assistant. She has no expertise with chemicals. She doesn't fit the profile of the unsub,” Gideon said, leafing through some of Dempsey’s information.

Morgan didn’t quite agree. “But the CDC found both LSD and rohypnol in the candy she was replacing at the bank.”

“She must have been an accomplice,” Hotch said, “and when the unsub finished using her to further his attack, he killed her with botulism.”

“So, what does that tell us about the unsub?” Gideon said, finally looking up and around at the team.

Reid leaned forward on the desk, furthest away from them all. “He's far more sophisticated than we realized,” he offered. 

Elle was getting frustrated, and she looked at Reid as if she was lost. 

“Why is that?” 

Reid looked as if he was going to respond, but suddenly cleared his throat in a way that made Kit’s eyebrows pull together. It sounded to her like he was trying not to cough, a small bit of anxiety rolling off of him as she connected the dots.

“The botulism toxin is the deadliest substance known to man,” she said, biding time and giving every bit of information she knew about what exactly the toxin was. Maybe it would help somehow. If anything, it would buy Reid some time. “It blocks acetylcholine receptors, paralyzing the body until it’s essentially choked death.” She looked around, watching as all eyes were on her. Reid had gotten himself back under control, and she gave a small shrug before she ended her spiel. “Without an antitoxin, a lethal dose will kill you in thirty six hours.”

The quiet that followed her information was nearly choking to Kit herself, and she could feel the variety of reactions to her speaking up. Morgan was surprised, but that was all. There was nothing hostile there. Hotch and Elle were processing and spinning again, trying to connect it all together. Gideon was either annoyed or unimpressed, neither of which made her feel any better. 

But Reid was grateful, which helped.

“How many people have access to this stuff?” Elle asked seriously, looking at Kit with anticipation.

“I don't know,” Kit said, and she turned her eyes to Reid.

“In New Jersey, quite a few,” he said, “It's the pharmaceutical and chemical capital of the U.S., so that the toxin can be ordered in the form of botox through any chemical or biological lab or botox clinic. It has to be purified, but any chemist or lab assistant has that capability.” 

“So, we're looking for chemists and sophisticated lab assistants?” Elle asked.

Reid nodded. “Basically.”

Morgan spoke up from the side of their group. He was the closest to Kit, and she was thankful that he had taken station there. While she tried to stay one step away and isolate, taking as infrequently as she could, it was reassuring that Morgan would choose that spot and keep her in the loop.

“Okay, wait a minute. If the unsub is a chemist with access to the toxin, what'd he need Dempsey for?”

“Well, we don't know yet,” Gideon said, “But, she worked for a, she worked for a company, called, uh,” he started rifling through the papers, “Hitchcock Pharmaceuticals. I think there's a good chance the unsub worked there, too.”

Hotch nodded. “Well, let's start with people who fit the profile who've had a recent stressor.”

Morgan called Garcia, and she found them some names to work with. Kit tried to pay attention, but Reid had settled himself down in one of the desks again, fingers trembling slightly, but nothing else giving him away.

While the team spoke she found herself walking to make another cup of tea, eyes darting to her backpack as she steeped the bag. She retrieved what she was looking for quickly, the honey stick having been tucked in there by Monty as a “just in case” item. Kit had laughed at her then, but she was glad for it now. 

When she came back and set the tea down next to Reid, making sure the rest of the team was distracted by the case, Elle was saying, “All those innocent people at the bank.”

Gideon didn’t seem concerned, and that bothered Kit to no end. 

“They meant nothing to him. He'll take out anybody to forward his cause.”

There was a moment that Kit wasn’t in the precinct anymore. She was at the hospital, watching Lynn Dempsey die before her very eyes. Her chest constricted, like she was being squeezed in the grasp of a snake. Grieving a woman she had never known.

“Like Dempsey,” she said.

Gideon didn’t seem to feel the weight of her comment the way she did, continuing on as if she’d barely spoken. 

“Like Dempsey, and eventually, even himself. Until he finishes taking out his primary targets.”

“We have no idea where he's going to strike next,” Morgan said, expressing the frustration we all had, “For all we know, he could poison the local reservoir.”

“Elle, the local cops haven't gotten any leads out of Dempsey. Why don't you go to Hitchcock and see if you have any luck,” Hotch said, causing Elle to perk up a bit.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding and moving out of her seat.

-----

“This is my job!” 

Kit was not yelling. She was speaking to Hotchner with a whole lot of heat, hands clenched by her sides so they wouldn’t tap. Wouldn’t tug. Wouldn’t give away how frustrated she was.

“Colghain, this is going to end in arrest, or suicide. You aren’t needed on this takedown, the profile doesn’t state that he will do anything to hurt anyone but himself.”

“But what if you’re wrong?” she said, “What if the profile is wrong and something happens.”

“The profile isn’t wrong,” came a voice over her shoulder. 

Kit closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Gideon was not going to make her lose her cool. Not like in Delaware. She was having a conversation with Hotch, and Gideon could think anything he wanted, but she would ignore him if it meant keeping her words and tone relatively professional.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to any of you.”

She meant it, and Hotch knew that. She knew he could see it in her. He was the best profiler of them all.

“Nothing is going to happen. I appreciate your dedication to your position, but this is my decision. We’ll have local SWAT with us, and we’re going in last. This will end in an arrest or a suicide.”

Hotch spoke as if to say “and that’s final” once he was done. His tone wasn’t demanding or forceful, but she knew he wasn’t going to give in. 

Her shoulders finally relaxed, one hand coming up to rub at her opposite bicep.

“Please be careful,” she said finally, to which Hotch nodded.

“We will. I’d like you to check in with Reid. He’s looking… off.”

“I already did,” she said simply, full intention to keep her promise. “He’s okay. Said he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Hotch didn’t look convinced, but let that be her answer without more pushing.

“Alright, well, maybe check again. He won’t ask for help.”

“Don’t you have an unsub to go face without me?” She said, and though she was still frustrated, she allowed herself to push it down with the other emotions, giving him a small smile.

He nodded, turning on his heel and setting off down the hall. 

Kit took a moment to breathe before she turned back to the precinct. Gideon wasn’t standing behind her. She had no idea where he’d gone, actually.

Wonderful. He wants to be confrontational and Hotch isn’t here anymore. He didn’t let you go on the takedown. Did Gideon get to him? Does he not think I’m capable?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Cac!” Kit jumped, turning towards the slightly flushed assailant behind her. “Reid! That’s the third time you’ve done that.”

“What does that mean?” He asked, voice nasal. 

She tilted her head, pulling her eyebrows together as she thought about his question. It felt vaguely familiar.

“What?”

“What does that mean? You spoke Gaelic.”

“Oh,” she said, smoothing out her pants that were not wrinkled, and ignoring the fact that her tongue itched to correct him. Her parents called it Irish, and most people called it Gaelic, but she wasn’t going to get into linguistical nuances with Reid. “I don’t know what I said. You scared me, I reacted.”

“Cac.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, jaw dropping slightly. “What?”

“Cac, that’s what you said. You said ca-”

“Stop!” She all but yelled, her hands coming up in front of her as if to physically stop him from talking. “Okay, yes. I got it. That’s what I said. Please stop saying it.”

He looked confused by her outburst, sheepish even. “Tell me what it means.”

“It’s…” She trailed off, feeling the embarrassment creep across her face. “It’s rude. It’s a rude word.”

“Like a swear word?”

“No, a rude word. Like, that a child would say.”

“Are you trying to tell me that it’s a… bathroom word?” 

Kit watched as Reid’s face morphed into a smirk. Was he teasing her? Reid could tease? She hadn’t been involved in any kind of situation that would warrant Reid teasing her. Was he being friendly?

Don’t think too hard about it. He’s Gideon’s protégé, and Gideon doesn’t like you. 

“No more questions!” She snapped quickly, turning back into the precinct and stalking as far away as she could. Maybe she could find JJ and be of use somewhere with no Reid and no Gideon until the others got back.

-----

“He let us take him,” Hotch said. “He didn't kill himself. Doesn't fit the profile of a workplace killer.”

He, Gideon, Reid, and Kit were standing in the viewing portion of the interrogation room, the four of them staring through the glass at Hill. Kit hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Hotch why exactly she was needed. She figured Elle or Morgan would have been a much more appropriate choice.

“Sometimes you miss the mark,” Gideon said, hands pressed firmly on the top of the room’s table. “Let's be glad we did. He's our best chance at stopping the next attack.”

“Well, his lab had traces of botulinum toxin, but no clues as to what he's up to next,” Hanover said, walking in the room to stand near Gideon. He sounded listless, and Kit could feel the shift in the room when he entered. He was in over his head and he knew it.

Hotch didn’t look towards him, instead staying trained on Hill. “Our only chance is to make him tell us.”

Hanover didn’t seem convinced. “You think he will?”

“Once caught, these types usually do. They want the whole world to know about their brilliant plan to destroy their enemies,” Reid offered him, not sounding very impressed by Hill’s archetype. 

“In case he doesn't give it up, let's play every angle,” Gideon said, angling his body away from where Kit stood at the wall. He wasn’t talking to her, that much was very clear. “We need to re-examine everything we know about this guy.”

Reid shifted on his feet, pressing his hands into his pockets. “I'll check witness reports, forensic evidence, anything that might be a clue to this guy's plan.” 

Gideon nodded as Reid turned to him for approval. “A lot of lives could be at stake,” he said softly.

“I can help you,” Kit offered, keeping her voice level. She wanted to check her notebook for Reid’s medicinal distribution times more than she thought she would be helpful with his paperwork search, but she didn’t want to be in the room with Gideon anymore, and she wasn’t really doing anything just standing around.

“No,” Hotch said, now looking away from Hill and towards her isolated spot. “Colghain, I want you here while Gideon and I speak with Hill. Watch from this side of the glass. I’ll need your input when we’re done.”

“Hotch-”

“Sir-”

Gideon and Kit went to speak at the same time, causing Reid’s eyes to widen. He took his leave from the room quickly, and Hotch raised a hand to stop both Kit and Gideon before they could continue their grievance.

“Colghain will stay here and listen in while we interview Hill. Watch him closely.”

Kit hadn’t even been able to look at Hill during their short time on their side of the glass. He was a killer, and to her knowledge, she’d never been in the presence of one before. How one person could feel they were above so many others, that their feelings and their lives were more important, was lost to her, and she had no desire to look at him at all. Let alone watch him for the duration of his interview.

The room suddenly felt very cramped, though they had lost both Reid and Hanover in the moments of situational discomfort. Hotch’s eyes darted between Kit and Gideon, narrowing slightly as the physical tension in the far-too-small space between the two.

“Colghain,” Hotch said again, now gaining her attention more fully. “I want you at the window. Feel him out.”

She took a breath that seemed to catch in her chest, not able to get deep enough to make the feelings of discomfort go away. Her head nodded of its own accord, and her feet seemed to follow suit, moving towards the window and finally looking at the man sat there.

He wasn’t much. Not remarkable. He looked like a dad she would have seen at afternoon pick-up in grade school. 

But he isn’t a dad at school, Kody. This man hurt people. Killed two of them, and was trying to kill others. He was using drugs and toxins to harm people. What sort of sick person could do that? Not much of a person at all. 

The hatred sat like a weight in her gut, and while it was obvious Hotch and Gideon had no benevolent feelings for Hill, it didn’t belong to either of them. It was all her own. 

Her eyes narrowed through the glass, and she took a breath.

“Okay. Yes, sir,” she said. She heard even footsteps pad out the doorway. Her eyes didn’t move from Hill as she continued mumbling, now directly to Hill though the glass, even though he couldn’t hear her. “Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú.”

“What did you say to him?”

Gideon.

“Sorry?” Kit said, eyes never moving from the window. She’d thought Gideon had left as well and was following Hotch, not staying behind to watch her.

“What did you say? To Hill.”

She took a breath and turned, eyes narrowing at the older man in front of her. He didn’t want her there anyway, she might as well tell him.

“Go dtachtfadh an diabhal thú,” she said, now louder. Each word was enunciated clearly, eyes not moving from Gideon’s. If he wanted to know, she’d tell him. “It’s something my Gran used to say to people with tattoos after she came to America.”

“And what does it mean?” He asked, mouth in a hard line, eyes searching her for an answer.

“May the devil choke you,” she said simply, voice never wavering. 

There was a moment of silence between them. Kit didn’t shift. She didn’t fidget or rock her weight. She didn’t move her eyes from his.

“Where’s yours?” He finally asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, eyes never becoming less severe as she tried to gauge his question.

“My what?”

“Your tattoo? Where is it?”

She let out a breath, shaking her head. She hated the way Gideon felt so smug. How it seemed to circle in the air and choke her.

“There it is,” he said, not waiting any longer for her answer.

“There what is?” she responded, not able to keep the bite from her tone. 

“Trouble,” he said simply. His eyes never left hers.

For a moment she considered pushing. Considered defending herself, and telling him that she wasn’t trouble. That she was doing her job, and that he should just let her be.

She didn’t get the chance, though, as he turned on his heel and followed where Hotch had left the room.

Kit stood, staring at the spot Gideon had just been for a long while before she heard Hotch’s voice through the speaker. 

She turned back to the glass, watching now as Hotch and Gideon spoke to Hill. She took in his facial expressions. His body language. The feel of his emotions, though it wasn’t easy through the glass.

She did her job.

When they finished and reentered the room Kit was in, Hotch stood next to her, looking in at Hill.

“I called JJ. She, Morgan, and Elle are headed to the party now.” 

Kit nodded once, eyes still searching Hill as he sat across the glass.

“What did you notice?”

She took a breath, calmer now that Hotch was there, and that she’d had something productive to focus on. “He’s really… sweaty. That probably sounds stupid, but it’s strange to me. He didn’t give me a feeling of regret. He seemed sure of his decision, I guess, until you started to talk about taking his case. Then less sure, but he was sweating before that.” She waited for him to stop her, but he didn’t, so she continued. “He started fidgeting a lot there at the end. I don’t think it was guilt though. More like… discomfort. Like there was something else bothering him other than the two of you doing your interrogation.”

Hotch nodded, turning to look at her now. “He was sweating before we started?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m sure of it. That’s one of the things I look for when I’m watching for patients in distress.”

The three agents watched Hill for another minute before Hotch spoke to Gideon, saying, “What is it?”

“You're right,” Gideon said, “It doesn't make sense. Why didn't Hill take his own life when we had him surrounded?”

“Guys, I think we have a problem.”

Reid walked into the room as he spoke at a brisk pace, all sense that there was something wrong with his health pushed aside by his serious demeanor. “I've been looking over the victim reports. One of the victims that was originally dosed was severely diabetic.”

Kit’s eyes went wide, though Hotch didn’t seem to see the issue.

“And?” He asked.

“He wouldn't have taken any candy from the bowl at the bank,” Kit said, eyes flicking to her, and then back to Reid.

He nodded at her and said, “All of the victims were there. We know that, but how were they poisoned? I started looking at the security footage.”

He turned the laptop he was holding. On the screen was the film from the bank, in which Lynn Dempsey was meddling with the candy bowl.

“We know Lynn Dempsey replaced some candy from the bowl. Look how close that jar is to the deposit envelopes. Now, watch this.” He clicked a button, and the film zoomed in to show Lynn Dempsey’s hand on top of the stack of envelopes, right next to the candy bowl. “See that? Her hand is directly in the stack of envelopes.”

“So, you think the envelopes were poisoned as well as the candy?” Hotch asked. Kit took a step closer, eyes looking carefully at the picture.

Reid continued. “As Lynn Dempsey was dying, she kept saying something like "the end, the end." I think that what she was saying was "the envelopes." I mean, what was Hill actually testing? The rohypnol? The LSD?”

Gideon took a moment before saying, “The delivery system.”

“Exactly,” Reid said, “Botulinum toxin and LSD are the only two substances in the world toxic enough to be effective in doses as small as thousandths of a gram. Small enough to fit on the glue strip of an envelope.”

Kit found herself nodding, though no one was looking at her. She might have added more to Spencer’s finding, but Gideon’s words from earlier stopped her. 

Trouble. 

She wouldn’t prove him right.

“But, the CDC didn't find any evidence of poison on the envelopes,” Hotch said, face slightly scrunched in confusion. Grasping at straws, just like they all were.

“They wouldn't have. The envelopes were destroyed after the checks were deposited and processed,” Spencer explained. He started to sound a bit hoarse now, and Kit shifted her weight in sympathy of his discomfort.

“So,” Hotch said, clearly needing to process out loud at the speed he took his words. “like the rohypnol, Hill was using the candy to throw us off. To cover his tracks. To distract us from the fact that he was testing the envelopes.”

Reid was still working it over as well. “What I can't figure out is why would he poison the envelopes to test the punch?”

“Because the punch is a decoy just like the candy,” Hotch offered.

Kit turned to look at Hill. There was something they were missing. Something right there, but they just couldn't see it.

What could he still be hiding?

She watched for a moment as he started to go a bit red, Hill’s breathing seeming strained. She heard Gideon speak behind her.

“He's not finished.”

She felt her jaw go slack as she realized what was happening. Hill was choking. He’d dosed himself with the botulism toxin before he could be captured. That was why he didn’t kill himself. He’d already done it. He was dying.

He’s dying.

“Hotch!” She yelled, moving quickly out the door of the room and around the side. She was pretty sure she didn’t have the clearance to be doing whatever she was about to do, but she didn’t really care.

She heard Hotch call, “Gideon!” behind her, but she didn’t stop. 

She threw the door open, pulling desperately at the chair Hill was sitting in. The chair was heavy, and with Hill sitting on it she struggled.

Hotch came up behind her, helping pull the chair out.

“Get him down on the floor!” She called. She could feel Gideon behind her, trying to move into her space and take control.

“Get his head back!”

“Shut up!” She yelled, pulling at Hill’s arms to release the hold he had on himself as the toxin paralyzed his diaphragm. 

It only took a few seconds before Hill stopped breathing, tongue going slack inside his mouth as his life ended before their eyes. 

“He's dead,” Hotch said simply. 

Gideon was quick to respond. “He killed himself before we even got to him.”

Kit stood to her feet, slamming her hand onto the table, “Damn it!” She yelled, rounding on Gideon. “What the hell is wrong with you?! What the hell-” she slammed her hand on the table again, “-do you think I’m doing here?!”

“Colghain-” Hotch started, but Kit was already making her way out the door.

“I’m calling EMS!” She yelled angrily over her shoulder, pushing past a dumbfounded Reid standing in the hallway, and leaving all three agents in her wake.

Kit was pacing in the hallway once she finished the call. She expected Hotch to reprimand her, or Gideon to be angry with her. Reid hadn’t even said anything, though by the look of him after his revelation about Lynn Dempsey, he was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to try to unpack what had happened.

She considered trying to help him some more. Pump him full of cold medicine and send him to bed. She didn’t. She just continued to pace, infuriated by the way Gideon had tried to take over. He had no respect for her, that much was clear.

Why am I even here? Why am I here with these people who think I’m a joke? Who have no respect for my job or for me? They don’t care about what I’m doing or who I am. They’re stiffs. They’re all stiffs.

“Colghain, come on.”

She looked up to see Gideon and Reid already setting off down the hallway, Hotch in their wake. Gideon’s body language suggested he was frustrated, but Kit genuinely couldn’t have cared less.

“The victims need to ingest the anti-toxin within four hours of the time they were poisoned,” Reid was saying. 

Kit caught up to Hotch, right at his heels. They were moving in a way that suggested action, and she couldn’t pace and fume in the hallway anymore.

“You found the real targets?”

“They’re in the woods.”

“Do we know where in the woods?”

The SUV flew down the highway, and when they got there they were out of their seats in seconds. The four of them vaulted the wall between the car and the campsite, and Kit only slowed when she saw Reid nearly topple over. Was he dizzy? She’d have to check later.

They got to the officers waiting there out of breath, but entirely focused. Nothing but the victims mattered.

“These guys are in bad shape and getting worse by the minute,” the officer that greeted them said.

Hotch almost didn’t let the officer finish before he was asking, “Who's the sickest?”

“That one over there,” the man said.

Gideon didn’t let the officer finish before he was already yelling. “Medic!”

“He’s having trouble breathing. Hyperventilating, I think,” the officer continued, and they moved quickly. 

“What time did he lick the envelopes?” Reid asked, just behind where Kit was walking. Gideon and Hotch were already near the man that was sweating heavily, his breaths wheezing with exertion.

“They said around 12:30,” the officer assured.

Kit let out a breath. They had time. They would be okay. 

She came upon them as Gideon was starting to speak to the man. His tone was gentle and understanding. Not at all anything like he’d ever used towards her. 

The tone she associated with him was scathing. Questioning. When he spoke to the victim, she could have confused him with one of her clinic nurses.

“I’m a federal agent. You're going to be fine. This is gonna make you feel a hundred percent. Relax and breathe. You're gonna be fine.”

“Thank you,” the man said, his voice weak, but the panic flooding off of him reduced to worry. 

Kit moved to another one of the executives, speaking softly and assuringly as they were administered the antitoxin. She wished she could be of more help, but the EMS workers had it covered. That was their job. At that moment, she was a federal agent. Just like Gideon.

She settled in the seat across from Morgan on the jet. He put on his headphones and crashed almost immediately, and Kit envied his ability to sleep so easily. 

Her mind kept drifting to Hill. To the way he died on the floor of the interrogation room. To Gideon trying to get in her way, or take her job as she attempted to help the dying man. To the way she’d yelled at him.

Ari and Monty would never believe it if she told them she’d lost her temper that way. Monty was their spitfire, at least at work. In the clinic there wasn’t a cooler head than Kit’s. But something about the way Gideon treated not only her, but those all around him, bothered her deep in her gut. She watched as he was gentle with Reid, and people he didn’t know, but never with other members of the team.

Now, she figured he probably didn’t tell everyone else they were trouble. She was trouble. Just her.

Her hands moved to help tuck her legs under her, brushing gently on the tattoo just higher than her ankle. A sprig of holly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. 

She waited a moment before pulling her backpack onto the seat with her. She grabbed the blue pills from where she’d purposefully stashed them that morning, and then sat up taller, leaning over the back of her seat to where Reid had all but thrown himself.

Gideon was sleeping across from him, but she could see that their youngest wasn’t asleep at all.

“Reid,” she said quietly.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at her. “Um, yes?” His voice was rough again, sounding almost congested.

“Here. Before Hotch finishes making his coffee.” She passed over the pills and a bottle of water she’d snagged from the nurses station at the hospital the day before. She’d saved it for this exact purpose.

Reid looked surprised for a moment before sitting up, sniffling before accepting the offering. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, turning back to sit in her seat correctly without another word.

She wasn’t mad at Reid. She was mad at Gideon. He made her feel small, and unimportant, and stupid. That wasn’t Reid’s fault.

But Gideon was Reid’s mentor, and she had no room in her emotional baggage to be friends with the pseudo son of her antagonizer. 

She scratched down the medication in her notebook before shoving it back into place in her bag. A moment passed before she heaved a sigh, glancing to Morgan and pulling out her own iPod. It wasn’t a long flight. Soon she would be back in her apartment, maybe even before Ari left for the day, and she could process about Gideon. She could process about Reid. She could process about Lynn Dempsey, coding in her hospital bed. She could process about Hill dying on the floor, right in front of her.

-----

Kit got to the metro station in record time. The redline had only three minutes until it was supposed to pick up for the night, and Kit pulled her coat tighter around herself. She’d left quickly, only going up to the sixth floor to grab her thermos from two mornings before. She’d wash it before she was due to be in the BAU the next morning, and Hotch had even told them they could have a soft start, since they got in so late.

She was wondering if she should have given Reid the nighttime version of the medication she offered. She didn’t really think about him having to drive home, and drowsy was probably not the best choice for driving across DC on a Tuesday night. 

“Do you have any more water?”

“Cac!” 

Kit spun around, hands at the ready, only to find Reid standing two feet behind her. His eyes were wide, nose bright red, and fever flush covering his cheeks. 

“Reid! What the hell!”

“I thought you said that was a rude word,” he rasped. No one had really spoken after they got off the jet, and Reid definitely sounded worse for wear.

“What?” She said, eyes narrowing. “It is. What are you doing here?”

A wave of confusion came off of him at that. “Um, what do you mean?”

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the metro tracks. “What are you doing here at my metro stop?” She scoffed quietly, not letting him have the chance to lie to her. “You can tell Gideon that I take the metro just like any other person. Monty and Ari and I share a car, and normally I’m leaving the office before eleven. You don’t have to, like, spy on me.”

She watched as his eyebrows hit his hairline. He was confused, but she didn’t care. She was tired and her emotions were starting to creep back up on her. She wasn’t going to meltdown on the metro, and she was not going to meltdown in front of Reid. 

Not after what he’d already seen.

“You… what?”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you’re doing,” she continued. Thankfully, the metro pulled up at that moment. She stepped onto the train and turned to face him again, gesturing to his general being. “Also, you look terrible. Don’t come in to work tomorrow.”

“Wait, no, Dakota-”

“Stop.” She said, putting every bit of force into her words, but making sure she didn’t sound aggravated enough for someone around them to try and jump in. The last thing she needed was a good samaritan to misunderstand their situation. “Just stop. Goodnight, Reid.”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before Kit moved away from the door and took a seat. She put her face in her hands and took a deep breath. 

She didn’t notice him step through a door farther down, sinking into his own train seat, fevered forehead pressed against the cold redline glass as the train pulled away from the now empty stop.

[c-is-for-circinate]

An M9 major arc breakdown: part 1

Arc 1: Who the fuck are you? (I think we might be mercenaries??): episodes 1-25

I was going to do a nice gloss over what I see as the four major arcs of the Mighty Nein story so far in one post, and then I realized that I am (*ahem*) long-winded, we’ll say.  And there’s a lot to be said!

Instead, a separate post for each arc, why not.  [I will stick links to parts 2-4 here when they’re written and posted!]

So: arc 1.  Covering 24 episodes and, according to critrole stats, about 35 in-game days, this arc manages to be both one of the longest and one of the shortest.  It covers levels 2-5, and everything from the first meeting in Trostenwald all the way through leaving Hupperdook.  It’s a lot!  And I thought a lot about trying to split it up, but the more I looked for a breaking point in these episodes, the more every possible division felt really arbitrary, and reinforced the idea that this chunk of episodes has the same theme at the center all the way through.

The arc of these episodes is specifically the progression of the Mighty Nein from not being a thing at all to maybe, sort of, somehow being a thing.  It’s full of great character moments, and lays the groundwork for, I suspect, pretty much every important thing to happen throughout the entire campaign, (with the possible exception of some of Caduceus’s stuff, but even then, I have suspicions), because Matt is Good At His Shit.  It’s also super interesting in terms of the entire show, because even though it establishes everything, the unsteady conclusion it seems to reach about who the M9 might be or might become gets almost completely (seemingly) thrown out the window by the very next arc--but more about that in the next arc’s post.

In this arc I think we need to take just a moment to get meta in terms of players vs characters, because this is the one part of the story so far where that division is actually, actively important.  There’s two big reasons for that.  One, the players are still learning who their own characters are, even as the characters are learning each other.  Two, there is one single, central, and encompassingly important fact that the players all know that the characters don’t, and resolving that disconnect shapes the tone of this entire arc.

The members of the Mighty Nein are going to be together for a very long and very epic journey.  It’s a fact.  Even if individual characters die or choose to leave, the group itself is destined for something big, because everybody at that table has every intention of playing straight through to level 20 all over again.  What’s more, everybody at that table is already family in nearly every real-life way that matters.  The audience knows that this group is going to be something special, expects them to become family in their own right before they’ve even met.  The DM knows.  The world itself probably knows, in-game--a group of strangers meet in Trostenwald and somewhere on her celestial plane, the Raven Queen is probably watching a bunch of fate-threads tangle together and make a mess of her pretty fate tapestry all over again.  The only people who don’t know how meaningful this group is going to be, to the world or to its own members, are the characters themselves.

And that leads to a fascinating dynamic, where these characters run into each other in Trostenwald, and then stay together for reasons even they can’t necessarily fully explain.  They never sit down and say, “okay, let’s be mercenaries together”--they get kicked out of Trostenwald and say, “I guess let’s go to Zadash together, maybe?”, and then they just...never break up.  The number one question for the whole first chunk of this arc is, “Why am I even with these assholes?”  Sure, the easy answer is, “because the players have decided the characters are going to be,” but that’s boring and kind of besides the point.  Yes the players have decided that the characters are going to be together--and that creates a story where the characters and the players both have to figure out why as they go along.

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The way this plays out is different for each character, but there are some commonalities:

Caleb and Nott both have long-term goals, and even though neither of them knows it at first, they both have the same long-term goal: somehow get back to the way the world used to be.   The trouble is, this is a really distant goal for both of them, something that requires the kind of intense magic they don’t understand and barely even believe in.  Their short-term goals are a much more basic ‘survive and also keep this other person alive long enough to figure out how to achieve that long-term goal’, and that’s what they say they’ve signed up with the rest of the group for.  It’s a relatively simple answer that ends up getting ever more complicated in reality.

Caleb and Nott’s relationships with the group actually parallel each other a lot at this early stage, and it isn’t just because they come as a prepackaged duo.  Both of their long-term goals have an undercurrent of desperate loneliness that they’ve each been living with since their lives fell apart.  In theory, getting what they’re after will help fix that one way or another--but in the mean time, suddenly they’re surrounded by people, and they can’t help but care.  They just also don’t trust the rest of the group, because how do you trust people at all, ever?  Nobody’s been particularly kind to either of them since everything went to shit, and if the universe had any kindness to begin with it never would’ve happened in the first place.  But there’s this undercurrent of...maybe, if they learned to love and trust this group, they’d find out they don’t need what they’re trying to get to begin with, because they’ve already got the secure love and acceptance they’re really craving.  Maybe.  Certainly neither of them have started to figure that out yet.  They can barely admit to liking their compatriots at all.

What’s even more tricky is that neither of them actually have much of a plan for getting from their short-term survival goals towards their long-term goals.  Nott literally doesn’t know how Caleb could turn her back into a halfling--she just has faith that he can, if he gets powerful enough, and it leads to things like the stolen letter for an academy Caleb would not set foot in again for all the love or money in the world.  Caleb is so bad at bridging the gap between what’s in front of him in this world right now, and the big nebulous world-shattering Thing he wants to eventually achieve.  After all, what’s in front of Caleb right now doesn’t matter, or it won’t once he twists the whole world into a new shape anyway--except that it is in front of him right now, and needs to be survived and dealt with, somehow, and that’s distracting in its own right.  So the whole first arc is full of moments like Caleb trying to take the spell scroll and Nott trying to steal Fjord’s letter, where they’re grabbing at an apparent immediate step towards their long-term goals at the expense of the people around them, and maybe even to the detriment of those ultimate aims.

Basically, for Caleb and Nott, being with this group is supposed to be a means to an end--but they don’t really know how being with this group is going to help them achieve that end, they’re just...pretty sure it will.  Somehow.  They’re definitely eating better now, and maybe if Caleb gets into that library it’ll help, or something, maybe, he hopes.  The unspoken question for Caleb and Nott both, as Arc 1 progresses, is--do they actually think being with the group is going to help them achieve those all-important goals, or do they just like being here?  Nott will follow Caleb anywhere, because he’s her way out of this goblin life, but she doesn’t encourage him to leave to progress somewhere else.  Caleb argues with himself when he’s alone, but he always stays in the end.  Is it practicality?  Is there a plan?  Or did they just accidentally fall in with a group of people they actually like, and the group’s constant shenanigans are a useful distraction from having to admit what they're apparently willing to sacrifice for the sake of being here rather than alone?

Fjord and Jester, meanwhile, both claim to have long-term goals, but they sure don’t show any indication that they care about pursuing them.  Which makes sense, because Jester and Fjord show up in Trostenwald with personal quests that are devoted to a very nebulous, hypothetical sort of belonging (contrast with Caleb and Nott, who want to belong in very specific ways, in places they once already lived).  Their worlds have both fallen apart, too, but far more recently and a little less dramatically.  They’re not looking to get back to what they once had, they’re looking to replace it.

Or, to be more specific: Fjord’s entire adult life thus far has been defined by his job.  Being a sailor wasn’t just his profession, it was his identity.  It’s what he did; it’s where he lived; it’s where he found the only person who ever really cared about him or called him family; it’s where he found his self-worth and his social worth, the first and only place he ever felt valuable to anyone else in the community or the world at large.  Heading up to the Soltryce Academy to figure out what’s up with this sword is about finding a whole new self, with a new purpose, a new job, a new person who can tell him what he’s good at and good for and where he belongs now.

Jester’s entire life has been defined by her mom.  Marion is her entire world.  Jester literally doesn’t know anybody outside the Lavish Chateau, and aside from the Traveller, the few people who do know she exists at all are servants or coworkers of her mother.  Jester’s world is tiny, with Marion at the center of it.  If Fjord’s self-worth is caught up in his job and what he does, Jester’s is entirely determined by making people joyful and happy, and the only two people she’s ever really had the chance to please in that way are her mother and the Traveler.  So she’s looking for her other parent, to replace the one thing she’s always had right there.

In many ways, the particulars of what Fjord and Jester are pursuing don’t actually matter that much.  Fjord doesn’t need the Soltryce to give him a job or a purpose.  He jumps headfirst into the mercenary business almost overnight; they’ve been in Zadash less than a week before he’s chatting with the Gentleman about professional networking like a man who’s about to pull out his company business cards.  Jester doesn’t need a dad, she just needs people to love her and be delighted by her presence.  It turns out that this team of people just so happens to address that core need for both of them, and that’s enough for Jester and Fjord.  They’re in this head first.

The thing about Fjord and Jester is, though, neither of them are asking any questions about the long term either.  Because rolling with the Mighty Nein is hitting all the right buttons to get at the root of what they need, they’re both super blase about letting certain details go without question.  Why does Fjord have these new powers he’s now starting to understand?  What kind of relationship does Jester actually want with a parent?  And where does the rest of the group see this whole situation going in the next weeks, months, years?  Jester and Fjord aren’t asking--and that makes sense too, because if they’re not asking, then they don’t have to face the answers.  If Fjord doesn’t ever make it to Soltryce, nobody can tell him he’s not good enough, and if Jester never quite gets around to meeting her father, she doesn’t have to find out why he never came back.  If they don’t ask questions about the group, maybe nobody will ever remember to leave.

Beau and Molly would be so pissed at being grouped together here, which is not actually why I did it, but is a nice additional nuance.  (Part of why they hate each other so much is because they’ve got a lot in common deep down--they both care very deeply and project an image of not caring very much at all, and it pisses both of them off constantly.)  The truth is, Beau and Molly are both with the Mighty Nein because they literally have nowhere else to go.   Caleb and Nott are trying to regain their old lives; Fjord and Jester are trying to replace their old lives; but Molly and Beau don’t really have lives besides this, or at least not lives they’d admit to.

These two are the closest thing to Professional Criminals in the group when it all gets started--Nott and Caleb might steal and con to survive, but for Beau and Molly it’s been an actual job, with coworkers and workplace etiquette, and bigger heists with full crews arguably similar to the M9 in the past.  The circus was Molly’s everything and it got smashed to bits within the first four episodes, but the core Mollymauk of it all means that his life fundamentally doesn’t change with its loss.  He is still on the road skipping from place to place, living out of bedrolls and carts and inns if there’s good luck; he’s still slinging bullshit and the odd con, doing a good turn when he can and keeping an eye out for coin; he’s still messing around with a couple of swords, trying not to get beat up or thrown in jail or run out of town, killing a bit when necessary; he’s still embedded in the middle of a group of walking disaster weirdos full of Issues and interpersonal conflict who somehow have to live together and rely on each other with all their broken bits and strangeness.  Beau played local contact for every reasonably-sized crew of criminals to come through Kamordah, and not a one of them ever kept her around for the long haul, but she knows seedy underbellies and she knows how to punch people for pay and she knows about honor among thieves and she knows how to trust fundamentally untrustworthy people just exactly as far as she can throw them.

So just the basic everyday operation of being part of the Mighty Nein, the important job skills and general lifestyle, is more in line with what Beau and Molly have already been doing than it is for anyone else in the group.  There’s also less conflict with their overarching long-term life goals.  Neither of them have any, besides ‘keep doing this as long as I can’.  I don’t think either Molly or Beau have any real vision of what a future even looks like, Beau because she’s young and too busy rebelling against to think about building towards, Molly because with no real past he barely even has a concept of change or becoming anything other than what he is.  The most either of them can really picture would be a life they don’t want: the Proper Lionett Daughter or Lucien Whoever-The-Fuck.  Those are nightmare scenario lives that belong to other people, and Beau and Molly will run from them literally as far and as fast as they can.

While Caleb and Nott are avoiding the question of “is this group really going to help me get what I want?” (because the answer might mean they should leave, and they want to stay); and Fjord and Jester are avoiding the question of “should I actually try to find the thing I came looking for in the first place?” (because real answers are so much scarier than unsolved questions); Beau and Molly are determinedly avoiding the high school guidance counselor question question of “where do you see yourself in five years?”.  They have no long-term plans, and neither of them want any.  What they’ve got going on right here is good.  They don’t have to be alone (which Beau has been all her life, and Molly has never been once, and they both want so badly to avoid).  They get to stay in constant motion, running and fighting and drinking and earning money and occasionally experimenting with illegal ethereal-plane-enhancing substances, and that’s just fine.

Yasha doesn’t quite fit in with anyone else because Yasha is gone so damn much, but also because she doesn’t quite match any of the categories.  Her whole life fell apart, just like practically everyone else’s, but she’s not trying to get it back, and she’s not trying to replace it.  And Yasha does have somewhere else to be, a path she thinks maybe she ought to be following if she could just figure out where it is.  She keeps coming back because Molly is the closest thing she has to family; she keeps coming back because fate keeps bumping her into the group and saying she should; she keeps coming back because it’s good coin and easy killing-things work and they’ll have her; she keeps coming back because she likes them, because Caleb is awkward with people but lends her his cat, because Jester is bright and smiling and also loves flowers, because Beau fights next to her and Fjord respects her and Nott gave her flowers once, and that matters.

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As Arc 1 progresses, as the players get to know their characters better and the characters get to know each other, they begin to collectively answer “Why am I with this group?” with another question: “Just what is this group, anyway?”.  It’s a little out of order and a little bit of a mess, just like the party itself, just like life, but the truth is that the members of the Nein find themselves more or less attached to this merry little band before they’ve even really defined what said band is.  The characters become a group by accident, by fate, by will of the players, because they’re all desperate for things and avoiding things and because why not.  Many decisions about what kind of group they become, though, are a lot more deliberate.  

‘Mercenary’ is the first thing they pick up, and they specifically don’t choose it for themselves.  (It’s also the first thing they lose when the next arc starts, or maybe at the very end of this one.)  They roll into Allfield in the middle of a gnoll attack, and Bryce offers cash for gnoll ears before they can even ask ‘what’s in it for us?’.  They already had weapons in hand to deal with the threat--it’s impossible to say what the team would’ve done without that offer, and they were all broke as fuck and badly in need of money anyway--but they didn’t present themselves as swords-for-hire until someone was already asking to hire them.

Allfield teaches them that they can be mercenaries (and gives them an excuse to stay as a group), while Zadash begins to teach them what kind of mercenaries they want to be.  It becomes very clear very quickly that this group does not like institutions of power (something I’ve already written about at length).  They do a single job for the crownsguard and then immediately turn around and start working with back-tavern insurgents and underground smugglers.  While their individual opinions may vary, collectively they do Not Like The Empire.

They also establish themselves as a group that does not trust in general, either the outside world or each other--and furthermore, a group that will push and investigate and uncover answers every time a mystery pops up.  They don’t take the Knights of Requital at face value, they investigate around the back end; they track down the Gentleman just because he’s there.  They demand answers from each other, from Molly baiting a trap to catch Nott stealing from Fjord to the whole group teaming up to demand ‘Lucien’ explain himself.  Caleb doesn’t trust Callie, and Beau doesn’t trust Caleb, and nobody trusts Fjord’s stone-swallowing, and there’s no resolution, only more questions.

Likewise, they are not trustworthy.  While they take jobs and generally deliver on what they pay for, they also ad-lib and change direction for their own benefit, and their loyalty to their employers is debatable at best.  The argument over the spell scrolls in the High Richter’s house is a major division at the time, but by the time they’re clearing out necromancy for the Gentleman, nobody really sides against stealing the journal or Yasha’s sword.  They just come up with a plan together to cheat the Gentleman effectively.  When they clear out the merrow in his safehouse in the swamp, they have no problem taking as much of his stuff as they can.  They are out for themselves, and the jobs they take are a means to their own ends, not particularly important in and of themselves.

The M9 feel very small, as a group, in the face of a world that’s very big, and we see that tie back in with the past two points over and over again.  So much of the Zadash part of the arc involves the stirrings and edges of the war with Xhorhas, and the Nein’s almost instant response of, okay, we want to stay as FAR FROM THAT AS POSSIBLE.  The major powers of the world are big enough to crush them, and they are afraid of that--but, the attitude seems to go, the major powers of the world are also big enough to miss noticing them, and that matters too.  They steal the dodecahedron and disappear off into the shadows because they know it means something huge, and that’s scary, and therefore grabbing this piece of it might somehow protect them or the world in the long run.  They’re able to do it because they’re small, because in this clash of international titans they’re still nobody.

Lastly, this group desperately wants to be doing something moral, they just don’t necessarily know how.  They debate over whether the Knights of Requital are good guys, over whether they should help the crown, over the right thing to do with the Krynn assassin.  They are so much more comfortable working for the Gentleman, who’s a criminal right there on the surface but doesn’t appear to be actively hurting anybody, than assisting the local law.  Even when it’s not a job, or maybe even more when it’s not a job, they find themselves going out of their way to be good people: rescuing Kiri, helping Callie, finding ways to help Horace and Dolan after the attack on the spire explodes everything.  For a group of self-proclaimed mercenaries, there’s a constant undercurrent of...should we be doing this?  Is this the right thing to do?  Should we totally betray our employers because that’s the right thing to do?  They’re not loyal to anybody in particular, except maybe each other, but they’re struggling to find some kind of ideal or guiding principle to be loyal to.

All of this culminates in Hupperdook.  The group is finally unbending a little, coming to trust each other that little bit more.  Beau talks about her childhood, and Caleb says Astrid’s name, and Nott says Yeza’s, and Fjord talks about the orphanage where he grew up.  They go down into a prison to fight a whirling death-robot, and it’s sort of because Rissa’s dad promised them a reward but also sort of because Rissa is Theirs Now, and more than anything it’s to save the parents of a bunch of penniless near-orphans.  It’s a way to say fuck you! to the Imperial system; it’s a way to combine two jobs at once for their own purposes.  It is above all a very new-feeling exploration of the idea that, small or not, they can in fact actually make a meaningful difference in the world.  They have power, and that power can be used for good.  

It’s by far the least mercenary-like job they’ve taken.  Between the bail money they pay for the Schuesters and the additional cash they leave with them to take care of Kiri, they probably spend half as much on the whole endeavor as that new fancy crossbow was worth to begin with.  They did something good, and it feels better and more right than all their fumbling maybes.

Aside from Trostenwald, where crisis came to them and the whole story was about getting themselves out of trouble, Allfield and Hupperdook very much bookend this arc, and that makes a lot of sense, because there’s a very similar feeling to both jobs.  They’ve done something dangerous, and saved lives, and helped people--regular, good people who hadn’t hurt anyone to get into the situations they were in.  They made some profit doing it.  Those things are not mutually exclusive, and maybe, maybe they can build something of a career path out of finding the places where they intersect.

This first arc doesn’t exactly conclude--because with an ongoing show like this, nothing ever quite concludes--so much as it reaches a point where many of its primary themes and issues begin to look as though they could, in theory, someday be resolved.  There’s a visible path ahead that combines altruism and self-interest.  The group members are talking to each other, slowly and carefully.  There are still a lot of unanswered questions about who everyone is and what they want, but it seems like the group might just be heading in a direction towards those questions at least eventually getting asked.

It’s maybe the most optimistic place the group’s been in so far, which is of course why this is the point where everything in the whole world comes crashing down--but that’s for the next arc.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

unspoken love

Summary: Richie carves his initials on the kissing bridge but doesn’t finish. 27 years later he goes back and a surprise is waiting for him. 

This wasn’t really requested but @lifesucksheres20bucks came up with this amazing idea! 

Warning: I guess a spoiler from the book? (there’s a character death okay lol)

To say Richie was done with everything that was happening, was quite an understatement. Now that Eddie had broken his arm, his mother got even more overbearing. She wouldn’t let Eddie out of her sight, he couldn’t get out of the house for even a small second and if Richie even dared to step foot on the lawn of Eddie’s house, Sonia was chasing him away in a heartbeat. It was starting to really way on Richie. He cared about Eddie, more than he often liked to admit.

He loved spending time with Eddie. Ever since they met it was like there was an unspoken agreement that the two of them would do everything together. And yes, of course they had other just as amazing friends who they both loved to hang out with, but it wasn’t the same. The feeling both of them got when they hang out, was one they didn’t find with anyone else. It was like an invisible line connecting them.

 At least, that’s what Richie thought of it. He wasn’t sure Eddie felt as connected to him as he was to him. He knew Eddie got along great with Bill too, and sometimes Richie felt a splash of jalousie. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew logically that Eddie cared about him just as much as he cared about any of the other losers, but sometimes he wished that he was the most important person in Eddie’s life. All logic flew out the window when Richie thought about Eddie.

It took Richie a while to figure out why he felt that way but when he did, he panicked. He was in love with Eddie. The realization of that caused a storm of internal drama. Richie dealt with everything bad in his life with humor, but this was a whole different kind of bad. He knew that if Eddie would ever find out that he was into boys, especially into him, he would never talk to Richie again.

Eddie had never discussed any love interest to Richie and neither had any of them talked about being gay, but Richie had heard Sonia complain about the gay couple at the corner of her street enough times that Richie knew she hated gays. He also knew that Sonia had a way to manipulate Eddie into having the same opinion as her, so he was terrified that if Eddie ever found out what his true feeling are he would hate Richie as well.

If there was one thing Richie couldn’t live with, it was Eddie hating him. So he decided he would never tell Eddie his true feelings, he would rather deal with the sharp edges of unrequited love, then lose his best friend. Besides, even if Richie were to tell Eddie how he felt. There was no way Eddie would feel the same.

But now, it had been two weeks since Richie had a chance to talk to Eddie, and he really missed him. With a sigh he picked up his bike and continued on his way home. He had spend the day at the arcade but now the arcade was closed and he was heading home. To get home he had to cross the ‘kissing’ bridge. It was named that because a lot of people had their first kiss there, and those who did, tended to leave their initials behind on the beam of wood on the spot where they had kissed. Richie walked past there almost everyday and every time he did, his eyes were drawn the names. He often wondered while he passing, what the back stories of the names were. Did they meet when they were children? Were they summer lovers?

Without thinking about it, Richie stopped his bike near the end of the bridge. He threw his bike down, not bothering to place it neatly on the side, nobody passed there during the day anyway. He walked toward the beam looking for an empty spot. He never thought about carving his name in the bridge before, but after everything that happened with the clown, he wanted to leave a memory of his love for Eddie behind. If in 20 years from then a kid saw their initials and wondered who they were, Richie would know.  

When he spotted an empty spot he took out a pocket knife he had snatched from home. Though he would never admit it, after the neibolt house Richie was terrified of seeing the clown again. He took the pocket knife to protect himself, although the chances of that stopping the goddamn clown were slim to none. It made Richie feel safer having it with him.

He placed to knife to the beam, but before starting, he took a look around. He wanted to avoid anyone seeing what he was about to do. When he didn’t see anyone he started carving R into the wood. The sun was shining brightly and Richie’s hands started to get clammy, it wasn’t nearly as easy to carve the letters as he thought it would be. When he was done with the R he added a +. After he carved that he paused, whipping his hands on his shorts, he started to get cold feet. If Eddie ever found out he did this, he would be done in for.

He took a deep breath and looked around for a second time. When he again didn’t see anyone, he gripped the knife again. Fuck it, he thought, there’s a literal child eating clown trying to kill them. This was nothing.

Just as he placed the knife on the wood, he heard the voices of the bowers gang looming up from afar. Startled he looked up and saw Henry and his goons coming his way rapidly. Wasting no time Richie dropped the pocket knife and dashed away from the beam. He ran towards his biking, picking it up and scrambled to get a move on. As he was biking away he realized how stupid he had been. He shouldn’t have even tried to carve their names in the wood. If Henry would have seen, he would have never heard the end of it. By the time he got home, he had decided he wouldn’t return to the kissing bridge. His crush on Eddie was something only he would ever know about.

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Only a week later Eddie Kaspbrak was walking on the same bridge his best friend had a week previously. His breathing was erratic and he was pissed. It had been 3 weeks since he talked to any of his friends and he missed them. He had been ecstatic when he saw Richie on his lawn. He had gotten a huge smile on his face and was already halfway down the stairs when he saw his mother run out in a furry. She had run up to Richie. “I thought I told you not to come around anymore. I don’t want you anywhere near my Eddie bear. You’ve hurt him enough”. She barked at him. Richie flinched back as if the words had physically hit him in the face. He turned around then, clearly not in the mood to fight with Sonia anymore.

 When she came back inside Eddie had demanded to know why she send him away. That’s how he found out that Richie had been coming around every two days. Eddie felt a pang of deep hatred run through his veins. He had been so lonely and sad that no one was checking up on him, only to find out his best friend had tried so hard. That’s when he ran out of the house. He would deal with the implications when he got back.

So yeah, he missed his friends, desperately. He particularly missed hanging out with a curtain trashmouth. Richie was his best friend for as long as he could remember. But since almost dying Eddie realized that his feelings for Richie went beyond best friends. And it terrified Eddie to no end. Not only did he think it was embarrassing to have a crush on his best friend, he was also dealing with pure and other disgust for himself. 

He knew that what his mother did him was disgusting but that didn’t mean that what she said didn’t stick. He was convinced that he was a horrible human being, just for thinking of guys in  way he should be thinking of girls. He kicked a plastic bottle laying on the street with all his might, the bottle being thrown of the bridge. For once, he didn’t care. It was so unfair. All he wanted was to be normal. Why couldn’t he just fall in love with Bev for god sake.

But he knew deep down he could never like anyone as he liked Richie. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes and paused taking a deep breath. He looked around him, he had no idea where he was walking, he just needed to get away from his mother. He recognised the place he was right away. The kissing bridge. His face turned into a scowl. He hated this place. Seeing all the happy people’s names on there just made him think of his one sided love. He once told Richie that as soon as he had his first crush he would come here and carve their names in one the empty places. He hadn’t realised at the time that his first crush was right in front of him.

He walked towards the beam and stopped dead in his tracks. He was looking at an lonely R carved in the wood. He was wondering why anyone would write one initial, but not the other. Clearly they were planning on writing the other letter considering a + was also carved. Eddie reached his hand out towards the R but instead of touching, he just let his hand linger over the letter. He knew it was stupid, but for some reason it reminded him of Richie. He looked around but saw no one in sight. When he looked back toward the beam he noticed a pocket knife lying in the grass. The sun was reflecting in the blade and Eddie was surprised he didn’t see it before.

He extended his arm but hesitated. He couldn’t believe he was really thinking about doing this. The person who had carved the R in could come back any minute, not to mention that if anyone saw him do this, his mother would murder him. But Richie had been brave for him, in Neibolt when the clown had come. He had looked at Eddie and tried to calm him down as much as he could. If Richie could be brave in that situation, than Eddie sure as hell could be brave now. Determent he reached for the pocket knife. The moment his hand seized the knife he cringed. Who knows how long the knife had been there.

Without thinking too much further Eddie started carving and E next to the R. When he was done he stepped back and watched proudly. He felt like this was him standing up to his mother, even though she would never hear about his act of defiance. He dropped the knife back where he had found it and turned away. Even if he never told Richie how he felt about him, his feeling were forever carved in the beam, in plain sight.

 ----------------------

27 years later….

Richie didn’t know what was next. He had never felt so utterly lost on what to do as he did now. He couldn’t think of any solution to dealing with IT. He found it hard to think about anything, to feel anything. The clown had taken away the most important person in Richie’s life. Even if Richie had forgotten about him, he never felt complete in his life. When he came back to Derry and saw him, he remembered just how much he missed him. Eddie was dead. He was dead. It was a thought Richie couldn’t quite comprehend. He knew Eddie was dead, but he didn’t realize it.

Without thinking about it much, he left the remaining losers at Mike’s farm and started walking. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like all his energy had died with Eddie.

He unknowingly walked back towards the kissing bridge, the place where he was too scared to write his and Eddie’s names. He felt like a coward, like it was another way he let Eddie down. He heard footsteps behind him and when he glanced back, he could see Ben following him. Luckily he kept his distance, he knew Richie needed time by himself. Beverly had no doubt forced someone to follow him, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

When Richie stood back in the same place where he had stood 27 years ago, his entire body started trembling. Next to the R he had carved, stood an E. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t carved that letter, memories of Henry Bowers coming back up. He heard Bill coming to a halt behind him.

‘Richie, are you okay’? Ben asked softly. He didn’t really know what to say.

Richie didn’t answer him. He couldn’t. Could it be that Eddie had written that E? Richie couldn’t know for sure, but something inside him told him that it was indeed Eddie that had wrote it. Eddie felt the same, he loved Richie in the same way Richie loved him. Maybe they hadn’t literally said it too each other, but they both knew they loved each other. Richie was convinced that Eddie had died with the knowledge that he would forever hold Richie Tozier’s hart, and that was enough for him.

With this in mind, Richie felt a warm feeling spreading over his body, bringing an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long while. Hope.

‘yeah’. He replied hesitantly, but then his voice gained momentum and rose.

‘Yeah, let’s go kill this fucking clown. For Stan and Eddie’.

[swanface]

Who are your top two/three favorite cats in each clan you are in?

i am cheating a tiny bit by using this version of the ask because i have one that asks for just two ocs per clan, but...here you go! under a read more because oh man, i had a lot to say.

NETTLECLAN

Berryclaw: an answer that surprises no one! i’ve been out here loving and cherishing this girl from the moment she was just a little baby, and for good reason! berryclaw’s such a well written and rounded out character who feels genuinely real. she has believable motivations, a character arc that has developed at a steady pace, and overall is just...impossible not to love. maybe i’m biased because i’ve always had such strong ties to her through swanface and crowstorm, but i genuinely think berryclaw is just the perfect sort of character to cheer for. she tries so hard to be perfect, striving to be the very best, and i think her current situation makes that super interesting...she’s really being faced with a future that she didn’t fully plan for right now, and i am beyond excited to see how she continues to grow and change according to her new circumstance!

Wrenclaw: do i have a thing for -claw cats in nettleclan? maybe. but really, wrenclaw is a character i’ve always been baseline fond of that i’ve found myself enjoying even more lately. she has a similar setup to berryclaw where she’s always trying to be the best, except with wrenclaw i feel as if there’s a more overt pressure on her to be great. berryclaw has had a lot of support throughout her life and though she’s certainly suffered, she at least had a stable mother and siblings who always loved her...wrenclaw, though, is a golden child who got the short end of the stick, i feel. i always imagine that she’s so obsessed with being perfect because she knows just how dysfunctional her family has always been and she wants to make something of it, make honeyflame proud, stand out in comparison to her siblings...but she has such a compelling internal struggle over it and i just really, really adore her. 

Halfstream: an old classic...halfstream is, i think, my longest standing favorite oc in the group at this point. i’ve loved him since the days of og nettleclan, and i still absolutely adore him. his development from an angsty, violently angry apprentice who forcefully shoved everyone away from him into...well, a still grumpy but more mature and stable warrior who has a family that he loves is just too sweet. i’m typically not a fan of blatant asshole characters, but halfstream has always been more than that for me...he’s sympathetic because he’s always known his own flaws, even when he felt like the world was against him. he didn’t remain stuck in his suffering, either; instead, he clawed his way out of it to become the cat he is. he still retained his sharp attitude, of course, which i think is so important (i can’t imagine him ever truly mellowing out), but he’s able to be at least somewhat happy now as a full grown adult with a definite place in his clan. seeing his love for his kits also always makes my heart so soft, even if that love didn’t go over so well in some cases...sorry for snowclaw, halfstream. i still love you.

CREEKCLAN

Sparrowheart: how can you not love sparrowheart? he’s got an undeniable charm, both in the roleplay and as a character. i love him because of all the ups and downs he’s been through, the struggles with his heritage and the way that affected him in creekclan, the internal conflict he’s had over his time as deputy and how he chose to step down...and now seeing him as a settled in father i feel like he’s really found a good place to be. he seems genuinely happy, and that makes me happy, because i absolutely adore this boy. sparrowheart manages to both be a source of happiness, laughter, and joy without ever becoming a joke of a character himself...he’s understanding, sympathetic, kind, and incredibly well rounded. he might not be in the spotlight now as much as he was in his past, but i’ll always have a spot for him in my heart. 

Currentstar: woah, two toms in a row? wild, i know, but...currentstar is another absolute favorite character of mine. i didn’t give him a lot of thought for a good while, because for a long time he was little more than a background character, but with his recent development under snow, he’s become an absolute standout for me. i love the contrast of his more traditional style of thinking and leadership, and i also adore the arc he’s been written to have...from kithood, currentstar’s always been expected to be the mature one, the golden child, again...i think i just have a thing for characters who have high expectations resting on their shoulders that are just, yknow, doing their best to meet those expectations. really, though, currentstar is an absolutely unique character within not only creekclan but the group as a whole, and i’m so glad to see him settling into his role as leader of creekclan.

Carpfang: ah, my ultimate weakness...an angry, snarky girl who covers up her vulnerability with an attitude. carpfang has always been a literal black sheep in her litter and in her family, and though i also adore her sisters, she’s always been the standout one for me. her way of coping with the cards she’s been dealt in life is objectively not the healthiest, but it’s undeniably interesting and also very understandable. the dynamic she has with brightheart and cherrysong is so incredibly sweet, and i adore watching her interact with marigoldpaw...her protectiveness over those few cats she holds close makes her more than just a bitchy outer shell, and that makes her really special to me! i think she has a lot more room to grow and develop into herself, and i’m excited to see how her arc continues with time.

JAGGEDCLAN

Stonefang: okay, so. technically she’s not a jaggedclan cat right now, maybe, but it would be a crime to not include her here. stonefang is so masterfully written that sometimes it feels less like i’m reading roleplay posts and more like she’s a character in a novel...her arc is absolutely brilliantly planned, and yknow, i’m really starting to realize that i have a thing for protagonist / hero-esque characters, BUT. that aside. stonefang’s storyline isn’t the only thing that makes her one of my favorite cats. her personality is amazing as well. she’s got such a big heart and is so deeply selfless that she’s willing to sacrifice herself to save her family, her home, those that she loves...watching her struggle with palestar’s return and the thought that maybe she’d been wrong all along was so genuinely heartbreaking and tragic. that doubt shook her to her very core, and was such a huge turning point for her, and GOD, i just...adore stonefang. i adore every interaction she has with her clanmates, with those around her, how motherly and kindhearted she is...i truly think she’s one of the best characters in the group as a whole. stan stonefang!

Eveningstorm: i am usually not one for sweet and soft characters, and for a while i wasn’t sure where i stood on eveningstorm, but with time she’s grown to be a favorite of mine. i’ve talked about her before, but one reason i think i’ve been drawn to her in particular is that...yes, she’s soft in that she’s kind and compassionate, but she has a certain determination to her, a hardness beneath all that fluff. she doesn’t let anyone step all over her or the cats that she loves, and her sweetness is so nicely balanced with her energy that she’s just...compelling. she doesn’t have any big dramatic backstory to build her up, but instead, her appeal comes from her relationship with her clanmates and the place she has built for herself. i genuinely forget sometimes that she wasn’t a jaggedclan born cat, because she belongs there so perfectly. even if she’s not my usual type, eveningstorm is a character that i really adore, and she’s such a lovely presence to have around in jaggedclan.

Swallowpaw: another cat who i absolutely could never have predicted being on a list like this, except this time to an extreme. though i never hated swallowpaw, i remember thinking of her as, well, an absolute fucking menace of a character. she was always sticking her nose into trouble, bragging and boasting and starting arguments, and sometimes characters like that aren’t ones you’re attracted to, but...i don’t know how, but she got me, somewhere along the way. her struggle with her bloodline and how deeply affected she was to learn that she wasn’t all that she’d built herself up to be was such a tragic thing for a character so young to endure, and the way that she handled it with turning against her father and carving out her own path to purposefully lift herself up to that sense of importance she feels she deserves...it’s really brilliant to me. swallowpaw still isn’t the sort of character that i look at with the lens of her being perfect, an angel, can do no wrong...instead, i love that she does do wrong, and also that she’s been set up for such a difficult life from the very start. she’s not a good person, and that’s so intriguing, because she is sympathetic when you really lean back and look at her. i wouldn’t really call her a villain, per say, but she’s certainly a more antagonistic sort of character, and i absolutely love her for that. she’s so interesting that i always want to see more of her.

FOGCLAN

Lilystorm: of all of the former fogclan cats turned traitors (turned fogclan cats again, in lilystorm’s case), lilystorm has always been one of the most intriguing for me. the fact that her loyalty to palestar wavered for just long enough for her to run away and then returned full force, strongly enough for her to feel such deep regret...it’s such a brilliant setup for a character that stands out from the crowd. nearly every other fogclan cat was happy to leave, but lilystorm remembered the good times, which i think is a super realistic and well done take on the situation as a whole. she’s always been so consistently well written, sticking to her personality and never wavering or seeming out of character...and despite not being as kind or as soft as some others, i think lilystorm’s always been a very sympathetic cat, at least for me. she clearly struggles a lot with internal conflicts that she’s never truly been comfortable with voicing out loud, and i can only imagine how difficult it must be for her to not really have anyone that she can fully confide in. she’s so determined to be strong that she tries to erase her vulnerability, and that’s so compelling to me...overall i just really adore lilystorm and think she’s one of the best and most unique fogclan cats around, former or current. 

Bramblefang: when bramblefang first started to exist as more than an npc in fogclan, i was instantly hooked. i think that i really just enjoy perspectives that vary from the typical, immediate response that a lot of characters seem to have to fogclan and to palestar, which is an instant “oh, she’s obviously Bad and Evil” sort of deal. bramblefang was a cat who had been through enough hardship to be vulnerable to the sort of masterful manipulation palestar had weaved, and seeing his anger at hollyfur for abandoning him and their clan was so excellent...and then he started to change, started to see the bad in his situation, and i still found myself super attached. bramblefang’s a loyal character, through and through, dedicated deeply to those he loves, and i think that’s perhaps his biggest appeal. he’s no standout hero who’s going to be bold and act overtly out against the higher powers, but watching him begin to realize that the leader and clan he dedicated himself to in his weakest moments is maybe not as wonderful as he’d thought...it’s super intriguing. 

Dippernose: so, a trend throughout all my favorite fogclan cats is that they’re all characters who have, objectively, found themselves on the wrong side of things at one point in time...but that’s why they’re so special and so interesting, in my opinion. it’s easy to make a character who is good, who understands right from wrong, who sees everything clearly, but it’s so much more fun to have someone who doesn’t. dippernose fits that perfectly for me, and her belief in fogclan and in palestar is made all the more interesting because of her relationship with her brother. what do you do when the cat you care for most is the practical opposite of you? dippernose’s development feels like it’s just beginning to take off, so i don’t have as much of an essay to write on her, but right now i really enjoy the unique feeling she brings to the clan...she feels very realistic to me, a young cat who doesn’t quite know what to believe in as she’s being torn in so many different directions. i’m really excited to see more of her as fogclan progresses!

TRIBE

Spark Feather: spark feather is an absolute darling little lad. i’ve been fond of him from the start. his sunny disposition and cheerful nature transforming into something more bitter and reserved has been such an interesting process to watch, and though i doubt he’ll ever go back to the spark he was before raven and flickerclaw left, i like to see the little bits of his old personality shining through now that the tribe is once again settled down. overall i think that spark feather is just a really enjoyable, easy to root for character that you kind of can’t help but adore...he was left behind by his closest friend and had his whole world altered, but despite it all, he made it through alive and okay. i really admire his steadfast determination and the slow healing he’s been able to do, and i’m always excited to read any roleplay he’s involved in.

Aspen Snow: can you have spark feather without aspen snow? probably not. aspen snow is another case of bad girl with a bad attitude, and boy oh boy does she have justification for it. like spark feather, she’s suffered so much in watching her brother basically walk away from her and from their home, but unlike raven and spark feather, aspen snow and flickerclaw...well. it feels like there’s something still there, still lingering. watching her cope with anger is always so intriguing but so upsetting, and i wish that she could just catch a break for once, but the world seems determined to keep tossing difficulties her way...despite all of it, though, i think aspen snow remains strong...as strong as she can, at least. i obviously adore her dynamic with spark feather and i think she has some other really sweet hidden gems of relationships within the tribe despite her more standoffish nature. she’s just fun to watch, in the end, and i really enjoy her!

Butterfly: though butterfly is a fairly new character in the tribe, i’ve really been enjoying her and how she’s already being set up for such a heartbreaking storyline. she was born into a world with no one truly willing to care for and cherish her, which is tragic on its own, but the way that she’s already growing up to realize that the world she’s dreamed up isn’t all it’s made out to be...god. she’s an absolutely precious little angel that you can’t help but adore, and watching her get built up only to be broken down is just so upsetting...i’m super excited to see where she goes now that a semblance of the truth has been revealed to her! i think she could grow up to be one of the tribe’s most interesting characters.