#his skin became so dark grey over time because I kept mixing the skin tone woth other stuff for shading

[mayspicer]

Actual mini vs trying to take a photo of said mini.

(Still a WIP)

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Song of a Mermaid Warrior pt 2

Part 2 to the mermaid story!

Decided to continue it, wanted to see where Jordan's story ends up.

You can read pt 1 here.

Enjoy!

___________________________

“Well, well, well! Never thought I’d see the mermaid herself swimming over to my fetid swamp here in the slums!”

A slim young man with bright purple hair grinned, flipping a silver coin into the air over and over without looking at it. “Thought you said you were never coming back? What, did your last book not sell as well now that you're peddling comforting little lies about your species?”

Jordan leaned against the doorframe of the dilapidated shop, wondering for the thousandth time if this was a bad idea. She knew the answer, deep down, but chose to ignore it. “Tock, cut the crap.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t changed. “ Tock laughed. “ I can cut the crap, but not sure what use it would be… crap is notoriously difficult to cut, tends to mush up, you know… and whose crap should be cut? Mine?” He shrugged. “ Sorry to say this body doesn’t make physical waste. What about yours?”

Jordan rubbed her forehead. “I should have known better than to do anything other than speak as literally as possible… I hate fairies.”

“You only know one fairy, darling.” Tock’s eyes blinked, the irises turning green, than orange, than staying at a robin’s egg blue. “Unfair of you to judge the whole species just because you don’t like me. Especially because I have been nothing but fair and helpful to you.”

“You tried to trick me into giving you my skin.”

“TRIED. Tried is the key word there. Plus you didn’t fall for it, so what’s the problem?”

Jordan sighed, knowing that there was never any point with arguing with Tock.

She had run into the fairy over two years ago. At that time she was frantic, trying to find Hunter’s location, and her desperation had led her to the darker corners of the city. She had spent every last coin she had, unable to eat or sleep, and at her darkest moment, she stumbled into Tock’s shop. Later Jordan had realized that it was likely that despair that had allowed her to find his place. There were magic wards to keep all but the most vulnerable out.

When they met, Tock had seen her madness, her obsession, and was ecstatic. He tried to get her to agree to many terrible deals in exchange for tracking down Hunter and after adding a small addendum she had agreed, feeling that whatever price she had to pay was worth it.

In the end, the addendum she had insisted on saved her skin, quite literally. She had added on a time limit that he had to track Hunter down and arrange a meeting. And to Tock’s shock and dismay, whatever elven magic was hiding Hunter’s identity; it was beyond the fairy’s ability to dismantle.

Tock had failed to find Hunter, and the contract expired. Jordan left, at the time feeling a strange mix of disappointment at the failure and gratitude to be still in one piece. As they parted ways, she swore never to come back to his broken place of deals with the devil.

Until today.

“So what brings you here, my lovely little fish?” Tock flipped his coin again, and it sizzled as it disappeared into thin air. “Still trying to find that stubborn elf boyfriend of yours?”

“He was just a friend, and no. I gave up on him years ago.”

Tock frowned, blinking as his eyes turned a bronze color. “Pity. Your skin has only gotten prettier since the last time I saw it… would love to find your price to part with it.”

“…” The memory of Hunter cheerfully making plans to run away with her still hung in her mind. What was it that he had said? “We might lose our clothes and money, but at least we’d have a fun story to tell”? We had no idea what real fairies were like. The ocean’s song in Jordan’s ears was rising, she kept her lips closed to hold back the seductive call of the magic. The fairy noticed her struggle, backing away slightly.

“Fine, fine, no more talk about your skin. Why are you mermaids so sensitive about losing organs?” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Mermaids regenerate, right? Or was that trolls?”

“Tock….” The name was forced out between clenched teeth.

The fairy rolled his eyes, changing them to a pure silver color. “So what deal DO you want to make today, my angry mermaid friend?”

She dug through her pocket handing over a silver badge with a handkerchief. Her touch shouldn’t affect his abilities, but Jordan still didn’t want to touch it. It represented something she had tried to move beyond in the last few years, a part of the past that caused her to wake up sobbing some nights, and to stay up drinking others.

Hunter had been her only friend, the only person in this world she thought she could trust. She had learned the hard way how foolish that trust had been. But once she had finally made peace with that fact, he had sent someone to intrude in her life once more. After forcing her to stay out of his battle, he was inviting her to join him, dangling the one thing he knew she couldn’t resist to get her to agree: the existence of other full blood mermaids.

She wasn’t going to play by his rules. If he was expecting her to run back to his side after forcing her away years ago, he would be sorely disappointed. And if she was going to use the clue he had given her, it was for her reasons and no one else’s. Because for everything he had gotten wrong, Hunter had gotten one thing very right:

She did want to find the mermaids in the city.

Not out of any sense of loyalty or need to find others like her, however. She was simply desperate. The instincts to fight and kill, to use her magic to trap and destroy, grew stronger by the day. Soon she was afraid she’d start killing innocent people. She needed to find a way to control it.

Jordan was hoping that other mermaids would know how.

Maybe other mermaids don’t have this problem. She thought at her darkest moments. Maybe I’m just a killer, a monster.

She tried not to think about that to often.

Tock gingerly picked up the badge, his eyes widening with surprise and turning a glowing violet.

“You always have the best things! Let’s see… silver… It was made several years ago… it had other forms years ago… but the owners of those items died quite violently…” He paused, glancing at her curiously. “Your handiwork, I would guess?”

“No comment.”

“Such an unfriendly fish… good thing you have such pretty skin, otherwise I wouldn’t pay you any attention.” He turned back towards the badge in his hand. “It was made with care and love… quite a pure emotion of care… along with a large amount of hope, all mixed in with the silver as it was reformed… it was part of a set?”

“Yes.” She swallowed uncomfortably, pushing back the memories of a young naïve girl, who thought herself hardened and bitter, carefully making a birthday present for her best friend.

“Can I see the other one?”

She thought of the location of the badge she had once treasured. “No.”

Tock pouted. “Fine. It contains quite a few auras, but the strongest one… is quite familiar.” His eyes turned a bright angry red. “Elf!”

“Yeah, it was Hunter’s.”

“That BASTARD! His blasted elf magic forced me to lose my contract with you!” He tossed the badge to the counter with a disgusted grimace. “You’ll never be that perfect combination of desperate and vulnerable again!” He looked back at me. “You are STILL trying to find that elf who dumped you three years ago? And I thought you had standards.”

The ocean song roared in her ears as it sensed her anger, pushing at her control, leaking from her lips. She could feel it swelling beneath her skin, threatening to force itself out. Tock rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Don’t try your battle magic here. You may be quite terrifying to meet in a dark alleyway, but I have some great wards in place.” He sneered as she kept her lips closed tightly. “Just a word of advice: Don’t face off a fairy in his own home.”

Jordan forced her magic down with great struggle, every instinct wanting to lash out. “I don’t want you to find Hunter. I want to know most frequent locations this amulet has been over the past six months.”

“And that’s not the same thing because…”

“Because it’s not him I’m wanting to find.” If he's found mermaids, then the locations he's been, the people he's spoken to... they'll be clues to track them down.

Tock raised an eyebrow. “Then what ARE you trying to find?”

“None of your business. I just need the locations this object has been most frequently.”

“Very well.” His smile became sly, his eyes shifting away from the angry red to a dark blue. “What deal shall we make for me to do this? How about your skin…”

The last word trailed off as Jordan held up a golden coin.

“…”

_________________________________

The silence in the room stretched on, as Tock’s gaze was locked on the object in her hand. His eye color was shifting rapidly, brown, grey, orange, green, before the whole eye filled with color finally turning a solid, glowing silver. His shoulders twitched, and his teeth grew longer in his mouth, the sharp points pressing into his still human appearing lips.

“Where did you get that?” His whisper had lost all of his previous joking tone. There was a small amount of magic woven into his words, a minor compelling spell to force her to speak, and speak truthfully. It buried itself in her ear, making her thoughts foggy. Jordan smiled, shaking her head as the ocean song within her rose in volume, drowning out the fairy magic easily, keeping her mind clear.

“I’ve picked up a lot of things these past few years.”

“ANSWER. THE. QUESTION.”

“No.” Jordan flipped the coin, mimicking the fairy’s earlier actions. “Don’t try your magic on me, fairy. I’ve had too many years of practice ignoring magical compulsions.”

“Fine.” He sighed loudly. “Do you know what it is you have there? Do you know if there’s any more?”

“I’ve heard stories… tales only whispered in dark alleys and in crumbling basements. Do you know in schools here they teach that the humans are the only ones affected by the Darkness? That losing the ability to have children was the be all and end all of the curse?”

“…” Tock kept silent, staring at her. Shrugging, she continued with a mocking smile.

“What a limited view, right? Turns out that everyone lost something to the Darkness. Every single one. It took whatever that species valued most. For humans, such a short-lived, social people, it was taking away the ability to make new generations. But fairies… you are born of magic and air, part of nature and outside of time. Procreation means nothing to you.” She flipped the coin up, letting it spin in the air before catching it and holding it firmly in her hand. “The Darkness took something much more important to you fairies.”

Tock was trembling at her words, unclear if it was with fear or anger. “What do you think the Darkness took from us?”

Jordan glanced at his empty back. “Your wings.”

“…” The fairy’s hands were gripping the counter in front of him. His fingers sank into the wood as easily as if it was made of clay.

“If it were just something to help you fly, I bet you would have simply made do without them. But they represent something much more important, don’t they?” She leaned closer, ignoring his threatening aura. “That’s where fairies store their magic. So now you have the live with the scraps of magic you absorb from the earth and enchanted items, unable to store it within yourself. That’s why you work here, in this pitiful little shop, unable to do more than hide behind these wards and peddle minor magic tricks for favors.”

“Be careful, mermaid…”

“Oh I’m careful enough, Tock.” She opened her hand and stared at the coin in her palm. “No wonder you wanted my skin… how much magic should be stored within it, I wonder. Enough to last you a few years I would think. Which is why this little coin is so important to you.”

“…”

“Fairy gold.” She held it up again. “Quite pretty, actually, looks like the real thing even on close inspection. But if I were to try to spend it… it would expel all the magic stored inside, turning to wood and taking away my lifetime’s luck. An inconvenience for me… but for you?” She grinned. “It stores enough magic for you to live comfortably for quite some time. You could leave this shop, set up protective wards wherever you ended up. Magic enough to stabilize your appearance so your eyes and ears don’t change; let you blend in if you wanted to leave your house for a change. “

“…”

“So what do you say, Tock.” Jordan flipped the coin one last time. “Do we have a deal?”

After a long pause, the fairy spoke up. “… I …”

“TOCK ARE YOU HERE?!!”

The shop door slammed open and a short redheaded young man burst in. As he rushed to the counter, Jordan got a closer look. He was a few inches shorter than her, his leaner frame still obviously muscular. His facial features were handsome, with bright green eyes that glowed with excitement and fiery red hair that was cropped short. He wore regular clothing, a grey t shirt and jeans, and would have seemed very average except for the massive axe strapped to his back.

Who the heck is this?

“Glit, this isn’t the time.” Tock warned, his tone still angry and tense.

“No, Tock, I’ve been thinking about it… maybe I SHOULD be willing to compromise… exactly how much skin would you need to help me find the dwarves?”

The fairy’s eyes glowed an excited gold, his teeth retracting once more as he stabilized his appearance. “Well now…”

“Add his bill to mine.” Jordan interrupted, glaring at Tock. “No skin.”

“But… that’s unfair! We already had a deal!”

“You didn’t accept it in time, so now the deal has changed. “ She shrugged “The price I’m offering is more than enough to cover us both. I would suggest you take the deal before it changes again.”

Tock glared. “FINE! FINE, I ACCEPT!”

The young man turned to her, shocked. She met his gaze, holding back the urge to sigh. Jordan wasn’t much one for random acts of kindness to strangers, but he reminded her of herself a few years ago. Lost, desperate… the only kind of people who can slip past Tock’s wards. She just wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to her interference… annoyance? Gratitude?’

He grinned at her. “You look really strong! Wanna fight?!”

… Well that certainly hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting.

“Maybe later…”

His shoulders slumped. “Dangit. I was losing hope of meeting a strong person in this awful city… no offense if you like it here.”

“None taken, I don’t.”

“I finally meet someone worthy of a good fight, and I make a terrible first impression.” He sighed. “My Ma always did say I needed to work on my introductions.”

“…And you are?”

His eyes widened. “I haven’t told you that yet?” His hand slapped his forehead. “Sorry, must have been distracted by the whole ‘trading my skin’ thing. I’m Glitenaere ni Tolk Vhelarite, firstborn of Marleiun ge Nerturin, the greatest Dwarven warrior alive… but you can call me Glit!”

She looked over the short young man. “You are the greatest warrior?”

“Nope. My Ma.”

“You’re a dwarf?”

“Since I was born.”

Jordan felt curious, having only ever read about dwarves from human textbooks, which said they were a reclusive, unfriendly race.

The reportedly unfriendly, reclusive dwarf was reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the saving my skin, friend!”

She didn’t take his hand. “Shouldn’t you have a beard?”

Tock burst out into laughter, his eyes turning a humorous magenta. “Wow, way to go straight for the gut.”

“Aww, shut up fairy, she didn’t mean anything by it. Can’t blame her for not knowing in a city like this.” Glit leaned against the counter, rubbing his chin with an idle hand. “I’m a darkling, a child born infected by the Darkness.”

“Every race lost something.” Jordan whispered.

“Not everyone was infected, but those who were never grew beards.” He looked sad for a brief moment. “It’s a symbol of strength, of connection to the Earth… everything in our culture revolves around it.”

“What about the women?”

“Oh they grow them too. You should see my Ma. Her beard makes all the boys cry with jealousy.” Glit laughed. “They all thought with her being the strongest and all, her child would be too… but…”

“…Sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry, friend. I’m not weak. I may not have a connection with the earth and a powerful beard, but I’m a force to be reckoned with when I have an axe in my hand!”

Tock looked up, his eyes turning bright white. “You may have to test that out sooner rather than later. We have company.”

BANG! Something slammed into the closed door behind them.

_________________________________

Jordan took a defensive stance, while Glit drew his axe. “Who’s coming?”

“Probably one of those damn purity obsessed groups. They constantly sweep the slums, looking for low bloods and part elves. Usually the wards keep them away, but today, I got a little… distracted. “

“Great. Not really in the mood to deal with these guys, Tock.”

“They bad guys?” Glit spoke up.

“Yep.” Jordan answered softly. “They do horrible things to those who can’t defend themselves.”

“Fair enough. Today they picked on the wrong type of people, though.” Glit grinned. “Let’s kill them!”

His easy acceptance of the violence they would face ahead gave her a little pause. Before she could examine it too closely, the door crashed open, and a large group of men wearing black cloths around the lower halves of their faces rushed in. In their hands were standard pistols, the dull metal glinting off the many lamps of Tock’s shop.

“Looks like we got a haul, boys!” One of them spotted Glit and Jordan, his eyes widening with shock. “That short one definitely can’t be high purity… he’s either a low blood or a dirty elf mix blood! And the other…” He glanced and Jordan and laughed. “A No Blood? Thought they were all gone!”

Glit twirled the massive axe in his hand with ease, looking confused. “Do I look like an elf?”

Jordan thought of the tall quiet young man who had always followed behind her, always trying to avoid violence. “Not even a little.”

“Ah.” He tossed the axe lightly, catching it with the other hand. “Hey fellas, despite your insults and poor eyesight, I’m gonna be nice. Here’s your one chance to run away, before my strong friend and I start slicing you to pieces.”

Even with the majority of his face covered, the disdain on the attacker’s face was evident. “Shut up, dirty elf! Even with your axe, you really think you can face a group with guns?" He snorted, "Now we’re gonna have fun killing you.”

Glit just laughed at the threat. “I was hoping you guys would say that!”

As the group of attackers spread out around the room, he turned to face one side, leaving his back open to Jordan.

Jordan hesitated briefly at Glit’s open back, startled at the gesture of trust, before slowly turning to cover him. She glanced around to see that Tock had disappeared before closing her eyes, calling up the song within her and setting it free.

From her mouth a song of battle rang out. Several of the attackers stopped in their tracks, caught in her illusion, but the rest were only mildly affected, just barely losing their grips on their weapons.

Jordan cursed silently, still singing. Her magic was very effective against small groups of enemies, but the more people it was spread out against, the less useful it would be.

As the song of death spilled constantly from her lips, she felt her nails grow out into claws and moved forward, striking the attackers that were not incapacitated first. From the side she heard Glit run forward, spinning his axe, blood and tissue flying through the air as he cut through enemies.

Blood dripped from her fingers. She heard someone behind her, preparing to strike and turned, grabbing his neck. She felt the water within his heart, and used her magic to stop it in place. His face turned pale, and clutching his chest, he fell to the ground.

Jordan was feeling the drain of her magic. Her vision was turning a bright blue, the song growing in her mind, calling for her to give in completely.

BANG! A shot rang out past her ear, and sensing the danger, the song surged louder in her soul.

Can’t give up all control to my instincts. She thought grimly, slicing the shooter’s face. I might just lose myself completely.

It was hard, fighting against physical enemies while resisting the magical bind of her own blood, but Jordan forced herself forward, grateful for the help of the dwarf beside her. If she had faced all these enemies by herself, she might have lost to the bloodlust within her.

The air was filled with blood and screams.

And then… there was silence.

__________________________________

Jordan’s vision cleared as she forced the song of the ocean down, keeping it tightly controlled within herself. Her nails retracted and she stood in place, staring down at the blood on her hands.

Hunter always said he didn’t want me to be a killer. She closed her eyes briefly with pain. She felt dirty, worthless. Maybe if I wasn’t one he wouldn’t have left me behind.

Lost in her thoughts, she only came out of it as she felt a warm touch on her hands. Shocked, her eyes flew open, only to see Glit pushing a large wet cloth into her grasp.

“Here, friend, you can clean your hands with this.”

She paused, unused to the kindness, but took it anyways. “Thanks.”

“No problem! You’re amazing! That battle song… had magic in it right? Are you not human?”

“Mermaid.” The word came out before she could stop it, and Jordan pressed her lips together, annoyed. He’s a stranger. No need to tell him anything more. She tucked the dirty rag in her pocket, not wanting to give Tock a free sample of her blood.

“Really? I thought they had all disappeared!” Glit’s face lit up. “My Ma always said that the mermaids were the only warriors she wouldn’t want to face up against! That’s awesome!”

She glanced at the dismembered bodies on his side of the room. “You’re not such a bad fighter yourself.”

His smile brightened. “Really? Thanks! Those guys back home thought I was pretty useless, being a Darkling and all, but if a mermaid warrior says so, I’ll trust your opinion!”

“This is all very touching… but what am I supposed to do about the mess you made?” Tock’s annoyed tone caught their attention.

“We fought off your attackers while you hid in the back, fairy.” Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You can worry about the mess. You’re lucky we don’t charge you for the service.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Glit crossed his arms, standing at her shoulder, and smiled at Tock, the still bloody axe in his hand making the gesture threatening.

Tock rolled his now yellow eyes. “Fine. While you two were gleefully tearing those idiots to pieces, I finished the tasks you gave me.” He spread a map on the counter, ignoring as the far corner was stained with blood. Jordan recognized it as a map of the city. With a golden pen the fairy circled a few buildings. “Here’s where the amulet has spent the most time in the last six months, in order of most time spent.”

She glanced over at Glit beside her. “And the dwarves?”

“Tougher, since he doesn’t have a possession from the dwarves in question, but…” He picked up a silver marker, and circled one place. “There is a high concentration of earth magic here.”

Glit and Jordan stared at the spot, where silver and gold overlapped.

“Looks like me might be looking for the same place.” She whispered.

“Really? That’s great, friend!” He paused. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Jordan. But I don’t think we’re friends. I don’t trust anyone.” Not anymore.

“Jordan!” He grinned. “Don’t worry, we can still be friends. You don’t have to trust me. I’ll trust you enough for the both of us.”

Tock groaned. “You’re so naïve… why couldn’t you have shown up when the mermaid wasn’t around?! I could have extorted you for so much skin!”

Jordan grabbed the map silently, unsure of how to respond to the dwarf’s enthusiasm.

“If you’re going there, can we go together? I’m looking for a large group of dwarves that disappeared, we think they might be being held captive in the city.”

“…You really shouldn’t trust people so easily.” Her words came out as a pained whisper.

Glit’s face became solemn for the first time since they met. “It’s okay. I’ve grown up in a world that hates me. It’s not been easy, but over the years, I’ve developed a good sense of those around me, and what kind of people they are.”

“And kind of person do you think I am?” She was genuinely curious what the cheerful dwarf thought of her.

“You? Well, you’re someone who cares too much and wishes you wouldn’t. My guess is that you’ve been hurt very badly by someone you trusted… and now you would never wish that same pain on another person.” He shrugged. “So that’s why I trust you. You might kill me if you have to, but you’ll do it facing me. You won’t stab me in the back. You couldn’t bear to do that to someone after what you’ve been through.”

“Interesting opinion.” Jordan felt a strange mixture of despair and relief at his words. “Not put off by me killing men while they’re stunned by magic? That wasn’t just a fight…I’m a killer.”

“Hmm… well, I just chopped up six guys with an axe, and the only reason they didn’t shoot a bunch of holes in me is because of your magic, so I’m pretty sure I can’t judge.” Glit patted her on the back. “Are you looking for mermaids, like I’m looking for dwarves?”

She nodded silently, although silently she thought their reasons for looking were quite different.

“Then let’s go find our people together! You don’t have to trust your back to me, but don’t worry! I’ll defend it anyways.”

“Can you two leave?" Tock rubbed his face tiredly, his eyes flickering between purple and pink. "This touchy feely stuff is bad for my business. What if some desperate fool walks in and is inspired by all your motivational speaking?”

Jordan tossed him the fairy gold, taking back the silver badge she had given him, and turned and left the shop. “Never coming back, Tock.”

“Keep telling yourself that, my fishy friend!” He called back. “You’ll come back. They always do.”

“Okay then! See you later, Tock!” Glit called out as he walked behind her.

“…Actually, I would prefer it if YOU don’t come back. You give me a headache.”

Jordan and Glit left the carnage filled shop behind them

_________________________________

“So mermaids and dwarves being held in the center of the city.” Glit thought out loud. “Some sort of human conspiracy?”

Jordan thought of growing up in the orphanage, the city’s emphasis on having higher purity of mermaid blood rather than human, the complete lack of information on other races. She thought of Hunter and the underground Resistance. Of the Darkness that spread everywhere, touching every species.

Everyone lost something to the darkness, right?

So what did mermaids lose?

... What did I lose?

“There’s something broken about this world, more going on here then we realize.” Jordan answered softly. “But we’re going to figure it out.”

“Together?”

“For now.”

“Awesome!” He pumped a fist in the air. “Wait until I tell my Ma I went on a quest with a mermaid warrior. She’s gonna be so impressed!” He paused. “You two would get along, I think. Strong warrior types and all.”

Jordan sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Why does everyone keep sighing around me?”

“… Let’s go. “

_________________________________

They moved quietly towards the place marked on the map. Glit, surprisingly, activated a hidden mechanism on his axe, folding it into thirds and hiding it in a backpack, and pinned on a “34” badge. He saw her glance at the silver ornament and shrugged. “Snatched this off some guy who tried to mug me when I arrived in town. Most people think I’m just a low purity level student when I’m dressed like this .”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“…” Older than me? Jordan adjusted her mental view of him silently.

“Don’t worry if you thought I was younger.” He raised his hands helplessly. “No beard and the dwarven height tends to confuse people.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries, as long as you don’t think I’m weak and helpless just because I’m shorter than you.”

She thought of him cutting through enemies with his axe. “No chance of that.”

They made they way to the abandoned factory that Tock had marked for them. As they neared the area, Glit pulled out a machine from his bag waving it through the air.

“What’s that?”

“Dwarven machine, it detects the presence of magic.” He frowned. “We need to be careful. This whole place is covered with spells.”

“If this was a human holding place…”

“It shouldn’t have magic.” He finished her thought. “Maybe go up to the roof and enter from there instead?”

They scaled the wall silently, cutting a small hole in the roof with yet another tool from Glit’s bag. As she peered into the building, she felt the ocean’s song start welling up within her.

“There’s danger here. We should go back and regroup.”

“Jordan, look out!” Glit pushed her to the side, wincing as the blow from behind her struck his head instead.

Jordan opened her mouth to release her magic, but before a sound could escape, a hand grasped her arm and magic flooded her body.

“Sleep.” The voice was familiar, but her mind was already falling into darkness.

Jordan woke up on a couch in a dark room. Groaning, she rubbed her head, feeling angry. She knew this feeling, this hung over dizzy sensation. Remembered it too clearly even though she wished she could forget.

“Elven magic.”

Glit groaned from his sprawled position in the corner of the room, his arms and legs tied tightly. The ropes dug into his skin, but he ignored it as he flipped his body into a sitting position on the floor, looking up at her with a sad expression. “Sorry I missed them behind us.”

“It’s fine, thanks for taking that hit for me.” She glanced at the wound on his head, crusted with dried blood, and winced. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a friendly tap. I’ve got a hard head.” He grinned, then looked around. “Real question is, who has us, and why?”

“I have an idea... but I really hope I’m not right.”

“You always did have good instincts, Jordan.”

The familiar voice spoke up from the doorway, Jordan forced herself to sit up on the couch, staring at their captor with a pained expression.

She knew him.

Of course she knew him.

He had set his trap, sent her his badge, knowing she would use it… and she had fallen for it.

The man who haunted her nightmares smiled sadly at her. “Not happy to see me?”

She blinked, shaking her head slowly. “Hello again, Hunter.”

[onlinehorrorinserts]

A/N: Normally what I’ll write is just snippets of images and scenarios, and that’s what this was GOING to be but I got insanely inspired and just kept going. What better way to get this kicked off than a oneshot, anyway? Eyeless Jack with the prompt “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Trigger warning for descriptions of blood and a wound, as well as it being stitched back up near the end (just in case)

You hadn’t expected this little outing to be any different than the usual. A quick get in, get rid of the target, and get out. Someone had gotten just a little too close to the isolated mansion even despite the failsafes put in place, and it just wouldn’t be safe to let them be with the knowledge of what they may have seen.

Unfortunately, you had neglected to take into account that someone who was probably already scared and insanely paranoid and knew their life could be in danger after the things they had seen would fight tooth and nail to keep themselves alive. You had kept to the cover of darkness for a reason - not only should it have given you the clear upperhand, but it should have kept all of the damage to a minimum on both sides.

You didn’t particularly enjoy killing, after all. At least not when it came to innocents who were just in the wrong place at the very wrong time. It was simply a means to an end, something that had to be done to protect the family you had grown to love, twisted as they all were. Twisted as you were too, you realized, but the thought was often easy enough to shove aside.

Needless to say this was something of a routine for you. Something that should never have had the opportunity to go so wrong - yet that’s the very reason you must have grown complacent. What was usually just a quick get in and get out plan turned into a literal stab in the back and the rather aggressive fight that ensued after. The only thing on your side was the utter shock the victim had upon noticing how human you seemed to be compared to whatever he must have seen out in those woods. That realization had killed his resolve for just long enough for you. Humans could be fickle - if they weren’t like you, if they weren’t used to having the resolve to do what needed to be done, they could falter. You didn’t.

You knew the wound probably wasn’t deep enough to kill you. You’d have to seek treatment though. The idea made your skin crawl more than the feeling of blood oozing into the torn fabric of your clothing. It wasn’t who you had to seek out that frightened you. If anything you would have been a bit more comforted by his presence by this point. No, it was the idea in general. Hospitals, doctors, anything related to the medical field gave you tunnel vision in the form of a very rapid fight or flight response. It wasn’t something you’ve been able to control for a long time.

When you returned to the mansion, you were thankful that not many seemed to be out and about, especially not him. A couple of the guys were lounging on the couch or the chairs in the living room, playing games and cracking jokes a bit too loudly to fully notice you enter, except for Jeff who threw a casual nod your way. You offered a small smile in return, waiting for him to return his attention back to the others before you dared turn your back and crept up the stairs. You didn’t want them to see the wound and were thankful when you heard no words calling up after you to indicate that they had.

Only once you were in the safety of your room did you let out a sigh of relief, reaching to your back with a strained wince to try and gauge the damage. The amount of blood that covered your hand when you pulled it back was enough of an answer. 

You knew you had to go see him. You weren’t stupid. No matter how close the two of you grew though, the idea of descending into his basement, penetrating into his bubble of personal space… it felt wrong. Even knowing that no one else seemed to care, and he was technically something of a designated doctor for them all and it was sort of one of his jobs… you couldn’t feel comfortable with it. Or more likely it was for less selfless reasons like that and more your own fear piercing your heart worse than that knife had pierced flesh.

Not much time was given for you to debate with yourself though as you heard a knock at the door, jolting you back into reality as you stared at the knob. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to take the initiative and just come in. Maybe you could just leave it and they’d get the hint? Another knock was soon to dispel that hope as you sighed, forcing yourself to go answer it. As much as you hated the idea of having to clean it later, you used your bloodied hand to hide it from your visitor.

It soon became clear that it was all for naught though as your eyes met with the familiar deep blue mask, an inky blackness where eyes should have been and a gunky tar like substance slowly trailing down the mask, long ago having stained the fine blue like oil in water.

“So you are back.” The muffled, vaguely distorted voice spoke matter of factly, not afraid to show a vague irritation in the way he crossed his arms. You sheepishly smiled despite yourself.

“What, were you watching for me or something?”

“You know how good my hearing is.”

“I thought your basement was soundproof?”

“And who said I was in the basement?” He had a point, you realized. You had merely assumed he was down there after not seeing him in the front room. As reclusive as he could be, it was likely he had just been in another room. He knew he had you there and so he turned and began to head back down the hall towards the stairs. With a defeated sigh all you could do was follow him.

You kept quiet as you followed him back down and through the front room, the boys pointedly watching as you passed. Had they not noticed the blood before, they certainly did now, and it was Jeff to make that all the more clear.

“The fuck happen to you?” He asked with a cock of his head, perhaps genuinely curious despite his more blunt tone. You were about to stop to respond, wanting to take any opportunity to prolong the inevitable, but predictably it wasn’t going to be that easy. When you slowed, Jack immediately shifted to grab your wrist and with a light pull, ushered you forward and ahead of him. The message he was giving you was clear, and with a soft huff you continued on while he stayed behind, no doubt to talk to the scarred boy.

The descent down the stairs was never very easy to get used to. As soon as you hit the first step you felt the warmth from the house seemingly leave your body as the chill penetrated nearly to the bone. You knew the cold didn’t bother him like it did you - in a technical sense he was scarcely what you could even call alive. Not like humans were alive, at least. The cold was better for his specimens anyway. No use complaining. 

You were at least thankful that he had gotten into the habit of leaving at least a dim light on when he knew that you would be coming down. Just because he didn’t need them to see and not wipe out on the stairs didn’t mean that you didn’t, after all. Once you had found your way down, you went to take a seat on his bed, pulling the sheets up and around you. You didn’t care that you’d get blood on them. He had plenty of spare sheets anyway, considering he had to constantly change them out if he didn’t want to be sleeping in… whatever that substance from his eyes were. He was a bit more hygienic than that, thankfully.

You weren’t sure how long passed before you heard his descent, feeling a shaky breath escape you as you did. A mix of anxiety and relief crossed you in that very moment - an odd mixture for sure. A small shiver passed through you. You decided to convince yourself it was due to the chill in the air. 

When he reached the bottom step he faced you, not wasting time to remove the mask. A couple points of his sharklike teeth poked out from the cover of his grey lips, and though he had no eyes you knew his gaze was focused entirely on your own. It hadn’t been long since he had started removing his mask around you. He seemed to prefer the security it brought him. You weren’t sure what vulnerabilities lie underneath that callous exterior, and though you knew him well enough by now to know there was no harm in asking, you decided not to breach the subject today.

“Come here. Sit by the table, take off the shirt.” Despite the cold you felt a bit of heat rise to your cheeks, and if he noticed he thankfully didn’t comment on it for the time being. All you could do was obey, letting the blankets pool behind you on the bed as you stood and made your way over. Once the material was off the cold only felt more persistent. You wondered for a brief moment if you could catch a cold in here if you spent too much time down here.

The feeling of his hand made you jolt, a soft hiss escaping your lips when it caused the muscle to pull. You heard him sigh but noticed the faintest, gentle skim of his thumb against the unmarred section of skin just below the wound. A form of apology gone unspoken.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” He finally spoke as he reached over to the table beside you, preparing a few of his tools. Before you could answer he continued, his slight growl of a voice softening the best he could manage, “slight sting.”

You winced when the needle punctured you, but you were thankful when a bit of relief slowly started to take over. You weren’t entirely sure where he got any of this, but right now you didn’t care. You could only faintly feel the pressure of him working on stitching up the wound, wincing only occasionally if he went a bit too deep.

“You know why, Jack.”

“You’d think by now you’d realize I’m not going to harm you.”

“I never said my fear was logical. Anyway, I also just hate bothering you when I have no idea if you’re in the middle of your… work.”

It was then that he paused, perhaps taking in your words. It wasn’t for long though before he got back to focusing on the task at hand.

“I would prefer it be you who interrupts me than one of the others. At least I know that if you get hurt, it wasn’t a stupid mistake.”

“Careful. Keep that up and I’ll make excuses just to bother you.”

“If you want to see live dissections, be my guest.”

You cringed at his words, and while you couldn’t see it you could picture a slight shark-toothed smirk. You could occasionally hear the faint drip of something, probably from his eyes. It seemed he was at least careful not to let any of it drip on you. I guess he must have eaten recently. Your mind wandered, zoning out to the occasional rhythmic sound. That is until he finished his work and pulled back, cleaning the area one last time as he looked it over.

“Okay,” His gaze shifted elsewhere, probably a clock in a darker part of the room but you couldn’t be sure, “Get some rest. By midday you can probably wash up as usual. Until then, keep it dry. No straining the muscle until I give you the okay. If I have to restitch this, I’m not going to be happy.” Though his words were tough, you couldn’t help the slight twitch of your lips. You knew he didn’t mean it. You gave him a small nod and stood, ready to put your torn shirt back on before his cold hand once again gripped your wrist - it was a bit softer than it had been earlier.

“Wait.” He commanded, and though you were confused you obeyed as he went off into a side room. To his credit he didn’t leave you waiting too long, bringing back an extra of his hoodies. It was a bit more worn than his current one, obviously older but the sentiment was still there.

“No use wearing that anymore, but you’re not going up there again without wearing something.” He mumbled, a slight rumble in his chest akin to a feline’s growl or purr. You weren’t sure what that sound really was even now, but you had grown rather accustomed to his quirks. You grinned at him and gratefully took the hoodie, slipping it over your head with ease thanks to the side of it. You noticed as his eyeless gaze shifted subtly elsewhere.

“Thank you, Jack.”

[levicanpunchme]

Hi i found your profile today and I read all of it I am SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!💕Hope u are doing well and getting enough rest!Can i please request Levixfem!reader where they watch scary movie and reader is scared during and after the horror movie maybe u can do hc with levi or one shot!If u like the idea and u are ok to do it can u put much fluff?💕🥺

Thank you for suggesting! Hope you enjoy ;)

——————————————————————

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Warning: Contains a tiny make-out description

Movie Night Gone Right

The air seemed to be drowning in thick tension, terror bustling in your veins as you held onto the edge of your blanket. You scoffed to yourself: modern technology had really evolved so much: the large television screen amplified every emotion especially whilst watching horror movies. It felt like the heinous predators would jump out of the screen any moment, making you piss yourself.

The darkness in the room and eerie music from the television made it impossible for your mind to gravitate elsewhere. Your body was taut as you held your breath while the stupid main characters died one after another in the haunted villa.

You looked to your far right at your boyfriend, who seemed quite unaffected by the countless jump scares. Even whilst watching a terrifying movie, you didn’t see him bat an eye.

He was either too brave or-borderline sociopathic. You hoped for the former.

“Why’re you always choosing horror movies on our date nights, Levi?” You bitterly muttered, your annoyance visible in your tone. Every weekend, you both watched a new movie and he chose horror every damn time.

Your boyfriend looked away from the screen, his wolf-like eyes reading yours. His dark black hair attractively fell like curtains on his forehead, disheveled and messy.

“Because they’re fun,” he monotonously replied.

His response made you speechless. “Fun? What part of large scale man-slaughter and cannibalism, fun?” You cried, disturbed at his reasoning. Horror movies just gave you vivid nightmares and trauma. You usually spent weekend nights with Levi just because you were too scared to head back to your dorm.

Levi’s lips curled into an unapologetic smirk as he glanced back to the television screen. You glared at him narrowly and then resumed watching the movie. A few minutes in, another terrifying scream erupted from the television and your body grew cold, your blanket now scrunched within your clenched fists.

“You’re shaking,” Levi’s soft voice pulled you out of the gory massacres of the movie. He swiftly scooted closer to you as his arm found its way around the small of your back. He wrapped you close to him, your face resting against his chest.

Your chest ached with joy as you heard his heartbeat, trashing against your frame, sending vibrations through your body. His familiar soapy scent washed over you and ignited a deep fire within the pit of your stomach. Your scent mixing with his made your toes curl in pleasure. You liked stealing some of his sweatshirts to take them back to your dorm just to smell him on you. The warmth of his breath cascading down your forehead sent tingles down your spine, making your heart ache with jitters. It was the feeling of being beside him that gave you pleasure.

The movie watching experience was ten times better with Levi holding your body.

Levi’s arm around your frame never loosened. Your warmth embracing him gave him the unfamiliar feeling of a home. His head was filled with you alone, so much so that he didn’t even know who the hell the main characters were in the movie; a week of pent up frustration from not seeing you starting to quench as your warmth diffused into him, making him feel like he were a part of you.

He started dating you a few months ago and it was crazy how damn clingy he had gotten in just a matter of months. At first, he never intended on letting a woman into his territory but you defeated the strong walls that were guarding his heart. When he tasted the sweetness of your lips, he forgot every promise he had made to himself and felt his walls shatter into nothingness.

Levi wanted to snatch you away from the shackles of your university which constantly demanded your attention, keeping you busy with assignments and exams; he wished to burn the whole building down along with your dorm so you could live with him, giving him the epiphany of waking up beside you. He hated anything which took you away from him. Selfish, yes but he couldn’t help it.

He dug his nose into your silky hair, acting subtle so you wouldn’t catch onto his motives. He wanted to run his fingers down the long strands all day, but he couldn’t. No matter how weak you had him, he didn’t want that side to be seen by you.

If he scared you away with his carelessness, he’d throw himself off a rooftop.

He surveyed you, and rechecked for any signs of awareness but seeing the intense emotions in your eyes, he realised you were sucked up into the haunted world of the movie.

He silently smiled to himself and inhaled your scent. Your fragrance was so therapeutic, a fresh breeze of comfort to his exhausted body. His insides squeezed in joy. You were like a heavenly addiction, fulfilling his needs, comforting his emotions.

“Levi, that woman was the imposter all along!” Automatically, his eyes regained its indifference, the smile of his lips disintegrating as he peeled his eyes away from you to the screen.

You looked up at him while snuggling in his chest. Levi pretended to be immersed within the movie and then looked down at you; he almost stopped breathing seeing your lustrous, wide eyes looking up at him like he were the only one on this planet. His breathing became shallow as he quickly nodded, and looked away from you.

“Levi...” you noticed his heaving chest.

You stared at him doubtfully and then it dawned upon you. His eyes were cold but his body said otherwise. He was so warm and his heart was beating so heavily, your stomach flooded with a mass of butterflies.

“Levi, who’s the imposter?” Your heart was skipping a beat as you tried confirming your doubts.

He visibly froze, your question catching him off guard. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his nervousness like a deer caught in headlights.

“Why're you asking me that? Aren’t you watching?” He counterattacked, hoping this would divert your attention.

You stared at him for a good minute and then looked at the television screen. “Yeah but I was just wondering if you ever doubted that white haired lady. She looked so innocent, asking for help and stuff.” You watched his reaction, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, didn’t expect that.”

Chills travelled down your spine as you realised what had been happening these past few weeks: why he always suggested on watching horror movies; why he kept on asking you when will your semester end; why he didn’t like going out to the shopping mall for dates. Everything started making sense.

“Levi, there is no white haired lady asking for help in this movie,” your breathy voice made him flinch and tense up. You had never seen Levi outrightly display his emotions but right now, you could see the little rims of his ears going darker red, a pool of redness pumping through his cheeks as his bottom lip trembled.

Processing, you grabbed the remote from his lap and turned the television off. Your heart was thudding against your ribs as you observed Levi’s clenched fist.

“Why’re you making me watch horror movies when you don’t like them yourself?” Your voice was so soft and airy, comforting him.

You were currently having the time of your life, watching your rigid, formal boyfriend emotionally overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“Answer me Levi,” you dared him.

He gripped his nape and sighed, his nose crinkled with reluctance. Very softly, his words held you astounded.

“So you can get scared and hide into my arms.” —you almost gasped, your body shrivelling as a feeling of mystical happiness engulfed your chest. Your heart palpitated as you stared at the man who owned your heart, feeling the corner of your eyes burn.

“Why didn’t you just—say so?” You whispered.

He looked up at you, his eyes hinting of annoyance. “Because,” he muttered, his words caught in his mouth. You waited patiently. You would wait forever for him, only Levi Ackerman.

“I don’t want to scare you off,” his white skin looked so flushed. Seeing him, your body instantly warmed up too.

“Levi,” his name fell from your mouth like butter. Then earnestly, you climbed on his lap, your leg on either sides of him, facing him. The bold response made you fluster, your cheeks flaring up as you stared into the grey mists of his eyes.

His reaction was instant. His body became taut under your heat as he gazed into your eyes with a suffocating intensity. He instinctively pulled you closer, pulling you into him. Closer, closer until two bodies mushed into one, not an inch of space left in between.

“Levi, I want to dwell you in so much love, so much affection that you might get tired of me and throw me away,” you started with confessing.

Both of you were new to a relationship; both had fears and doubts hurdling your paths. How much volume of love do we express? How much of love do we need to hold back? Is there an exact percentage? Will holding his hand make him uninterested? Will pulling you into his arms seem clingy? The questions were numerous; answers, numerous.

Levi’s chest was heaving in a way you never expected. His eyes were darker than usual, thunderously grey and passionate with a whirlwind of emotions erupting loose; his body was hotter and eyelids heavy as he stared at you with an intensity he never let you see before.

“I get excited when you call me to pick me up from uni-when you text me to remind me of our date nights, and when you let me see through your exterior, when you let me explore every side to you.”

It was taking everything in you to not run away and go into hiding. Your words were exposing the sides you kept to yourself but it was time to let go. It was time to let him know exactly who you belong to.

“Levi Ackerman, if it’s you, I’ll give up everything to be by your side.”

Your words were cut short as his hand held the back of your head and like a desperate wolf, he pulled your lips into his. Every fibre of your being sprung to life. It felt like all the happiness of the world was thrown at you so suddenly, you couldn’t contain your emotions. His moist lips feasted on your mouth and impatiently invaded you with his tongue. Your audible panting was almost embarrassing but you could hear him struggle to breath as well. While he rendered you breathless, his mouth drank from within you like a thirsty stray dog. His arms around you had you locked, unable to escape, nor did you want to.

As you panted to inhale some air, his lips peeled off your mouth, up to your eyelid; he kissed one and then the other. He was breathing so heavily with his nose, your heart faltered at the sounds. He ran his fingers down your silky hair strands and dropped tantalising kisses down your cheek, to your chin and your nose. “I-want-to-steal-you-away-from-the-world,” he confessed, in between mind numbing kisses. He then buried his nose inside the crevice of your neck, inhaling you shamelessly. “If I could, I would-absorb-you-within me,” the hurling emotions he had kept inside were pouring out like unforeseen rain.

He kissed your neckline, tasting and inhaling every inch of you. “I can’t get tired of you, y/n,” his soft words tugged at your heart, making your eyes well up. You were so overwhelmed by his love, and your love for him that your vision was becoming hazy.

“Levi, promise to share your true feelings with me?” You asked, your hand finding its way into his undercut, you pulled at his baby hairs, making his eyes screw shut in pleasure, a comforting sigh left his mouth.

He nodded, spellbound by your touch.

You edged your face closer, kissing the high bridge of his nose and each one of his eyebrows.

“So no more, horror movies?” You muttered resentfully against his lips. His eyes opened again and a soft smile illuminated his mouth as he kissed your plump lips again, not getting enough.

“No more horror movies,” he promised.

You giggled lovingly and kissed the corner of his warm mouth affectionately.

“Move in with me.”

You almost fell back, his words pushing you over the edge. You almost thought you misheard him but the glint of honesty in his eyes proved otherwise. He was dead serious.

“Uh—are you sure? I can be very annoying and lazy...” You didn’t think this was a good idea.

He cut you off, annoyance present in his narrow eyes. “I don’t care,” he rasped.

“I can also be quite messy and you don’t like mess-” You knew this excuse might make him reconsider.

His conviction remained unabated. “I’ll help you clean,” he quickly responded.

You held back your giggle. A day ago, if someone had told you that Levi Ackerman would be begging you with his narrow intimidating eyes to move in with him, you would’ve slapped them in the face for lying.

What changes could a day make...

“What if I don’t want to clean,” you pouted, deciding to tease him.

“Fine, I’ll clean for you,” he responded without hesitation and waited eagerly.

You broke into a melodious giggle which made him roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, Mr. Ackerman. I agree,” you casually responded and kissed his jawline.

Levi exuberantly stood up still carrying you in his arms as a huge grin elevated his facial features. “Let’s get your things.” He put you down on your feet and hurried to the table to grab his keys.

“Wait hold on... right now?” You stared at the clock. It was past midnight and your dormitory was probably closed.

Levi nodded eagerly. “Right now. We’ll request them to let us in.” Before you could object, he was already putting on his shoes and grabbing yours so you could gear up.

You stared at your boyfriend: he looked like an eager kid preparing to go to Disneyland after his parents promised him so. You wondered since how long had Levi put his inner childishness and love away, afraid of the consequences. And then Levi pulled you to the sofa, tying your shoes before you could change your mind and dragged you with him all the way to your dormitory in the later hours of the night. After fighting the guards and begging your dormitory manager, he successively managed to get you to pack up your belongings and come live with him starting that very auspicious movie night.

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Jerome met the reader at the circus ... They spend the evening together (well, maybe have sex)? And then the reader leaves Jerome (he gives her his grey coat, what a gentleman) and comes back the next day, only to find out that he killed his mother and is sitting in Arkham. A year goes by (like in the show, I guess?) and the next time the reader meets Jerome, he’s on the bus with the cheerleaders and of course Jerome remembers her! ;) Is that too much? ;-;

Requested by: @valeskaduh

So guys, here's the final part 2 of my one shot. Hope you like it as much as part 1!!

Wordcount: 3510

Here's part 1: "https://valeskakingdom.tumblr.com/post/647442495087820800/request

Warning: mention of murder and violence

Credit: @gotham-swag

It was late, something after midnight already.

You both, Jerome and you, still laid in his bed fully covered in sweat thinking back about what has happened before, all the feelings, the pleasure... Everything.

Your clothes laid strayed on the ground; your underwear laid next to the bed while your shirt and pants laid elsewhere in any corners of his room.

Jerome had wrapped is arm around your waist to comfort you whilst you rested your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. It was even and slow.

"That was great, wasn't it?" Jerome broke the silence between you with a slight chuckle.

"Indeed," You chuckled "It was worth it."

"It was. Haven't met a girl that could give that good blowjobs."

"Jerome!" You slapped his chest in embarrassment widening your eyes, a strong blush went over face. You were a little shocked about his assertion, but otherwise you felt honored.

"No need to be embarrassed (Y/N)," Jerome chuckled caressing your side "You could see it as a compliment. I'd choose you over others."

"U-uhm...Thank...you? I feel...honored." You mumbled in embarrassment.

"You're cute when you're shy like that." Jerome smirked, sitting up and took a cigarette from his nightstand and lightened it to smoke.

You hummed saying nothing, just gave him a little smile.

You liked it how he called you cute, and that he liked your shyness. It gave you some hope that maybe that this,between you and him, could turn into something more than just a simple one off. All the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear, all the compliments and intensive kisses... That couldn't come just out of nowhere. You had the feeling something was special between you two; you couldn't say what it was though. All you knew was: you felt different in Jerome's near. It was like you two would know each other for ages.

While Jerome was smoking his cigarette off, his smoke spread through the room that you inhaled it. It didn't bother you, you were used to it from home.

You think took your phone out of the pocket of your pants to behold the clock: 00:37

Time for you to go, you needed to get ready in a few hours for your work.

"Anyways, I think it's time for me to go. Need to stand up early," You sighed grabbing your underwear to take them on "You know, work and such."

"Awww really?" Jerome gave you a little pout while admiring your body for one more time "I enjoyed the time with you."

Again he viewed you from head to toe, admired your curves and your flawless pale skin. His view was giving him chills again and he had the urge to touch again. He missed this feeling of your soft skin, this incredible feeling of him inside you making you moan, or the feeling when you dug your nails in his back because he pleasured you well.

"Me too," You giggled and pulled your pants up to buttoned them, then taking your shirt on "But yeah, I don't wanna be late. My boss becomes mad if anyone's late."

"How's your boss when he's mad?" Jerome asked with a certain leery undertone mixed with jealousy.

He looked at you frowning, his breathe became uneven, he kinda seemed to be upset like if you say a wrong word he's about to explode.

It confused you a little, but you didn't give a shit about it. You thought you maybe were just imagining this jealousy. How could he be jealous anyway? He didn't know you at all so he had nothing to loose when you go.

"Let's say you don't wanna mess around with him. He can be a little scary." You took your shirt on. Now though it wasn't as tight as usual anymore because Jerome tugged it from your body.

"Is he touching you?" Jerome gave you a stern look, his tone became rougher what confused you even more.

"Oh no. No, no, he's just yelling and he hears grudges." You turned to him "It's just annoying, that's all."

"Alright," He nodded standing up to take his boxers on "But wait, before you go..." Jerome walked to his wardrobe taking out a dark grey coat handing it to you "Here, it's cold outside."

"Thank you, but you don't-..."

"It's fine, you can keep it," Jerome smiled "See it as a little reward for the gorgeous night." He winked at you making you blush.

"Thank you." You smiled at him taking his coat on. You smelled his cologne, it smelled like any usual cologne but knowing that it was his made it special.

You both walked to the trailer's front door.

Jerome opened the door, you walked a few steps but turned around to face him. With a smile. You looked at his beautiful shining blue eyes for one last time. More and more you recognized that you liked him. You realized that you've never felt this huge amount of comfortableness and happiness. Sure, in an another relationship you've been happy, too, but not as much as with Jerome.

It was strange, very strange. You couldn't understand how you'd be so attached to a stranger. Maybe it was because Jerome was the perfect guy in your eyes and something gave you the feeling that you two belonged together?

"Well, then," you kissed his cheek quickly "See you around, Jerome."

"See you around, (Y/N). Hope to see ya again." One last time, he gave you this amazing smile before he shut the door.

With a little smile you walked out of the circus. You couldn't wait to visit the circus again to meet Jerome and have an amazing time together.

***

Days went by.

You couldn't stop thinking about Jerome - how kind he was to you, how good he treated you, and let's not forget about the sex, of course. The sex was amazing.

Though you still had his coat. You know you couldn't keep it, you wouldn't feel right about it.

Due to different circumstances, the circus was still in your city. On the one hand, you were curious about the reason why. Maybe there were some complications with travelling? Or maybe they did an extra show and had a lot of work to do to prepare for the show?

On the other hand, all your thoughts focused in Jerome. You were excited: you imagined to hug him, talking to him, laughing with him... Everything you wanted to do when you were able to see him again.

You made your way to Haly's circus with Jerome's coat.

As you arrived, everything seemed to be normal. The circus tent was still constructed, the trailers stood still on the same places as on the day where you visited the show, and the artists still walked around the yard.

You looked around to find someone you could talked to and who you didn't bother; then you saw the Ringmaster who was taking his rings to pack them into his case.

He was a tall colored man with some kind of clown makeup: red cheeks. white makeup was smeared around his face and a fake beard was glued on his upper lip. He was wearing a red suit and a black tophat.

"Hey, uhm...excuse me?" You hesitatingly tapped on his shoulder.

"Hm?" He turned to you with a grunt "The circus is closed for visitors. There ain't be a show today."

"Oh, I know but," as the Ringmaster was about to turn around, you grabbed his arm and turned him back to you "I was just looking for Jerome. He gave me his coat a few days ago and I wanted to give it back."

"Oh, haven't you watched the news? Jerome's in Arkham-..." You widened your in shock, you hoped you haven't heard it right.

"Wait, wait, wait...he's what?!"

Arkham?! Has he really said 'Arkham'?! The asylum where murderers, cannibals and other lunatics are living in?! What is he doing there?! Why is he in Arkham?! What has he done to be busted in there?! These were the thoughts that couldn't get out of your head. Jerome was a criminal? How could he?! He was so kind to me, so polite...was that all just acting? Did he play with my mind?

"He killed his mother with a hatchet. You might know her as the snake dancer." He sighed shaking his head slightly while he kept packing the rings in his suitcase "Let's just hope she didn't have a painful death."

"A-alright...t-thank you..." In shook and disgust, you slowly walk back to your car.

You couldn't believe what you've heard. Jerome was a killer: a blood-thirsty, psychotic and cold-hearted killer. You felt poor, you had the feeling you were about to throw up every minute. You slept with him and you liked it...you even wanted to meet him again!

You were disgusted by yourself.

Now you just wished that you could have changed the past; that you've never slept with him, never let him kiss nor touch you...that you've never even talked to him! You just wished that as he bumped into you, that you ignored him or snapped at him that you and himwoukd have never dealt with each other - everything.

***

*1 year later*

It was a rainy and cloudy day in Gotham.

It was cold, your window panes were fogged through the high temperature difference between your room and outside. In your room, it was warm and comfortable while outside it was cold, almost as cold as in winter.

You were just sitting on the couch eating some sandwiches, drinking a Coke in the hope something new and excited happened in your life.

This day was bearing you down, you didn't know why though. Maybe it was just the weather? You had no idea. You just felt empty inside since last year. And you exactly knew why.

You still couldn't believe the fact Jerome was a killer. You couldn't imagine how an actual kind and smart boy with a gorgeous smile, ginger hair, blue eyes and some abs could grab a hatchet to kill his own mother. You just wished it was a lie and that reality played a bad game with you. For sure, you didn't know Jerome completely, you've just met him once but still you could say that this all felt so wrong.

It was the disgust that caused this feeling. You were disgusted by the thought that you allowed a murderer playing with your mind to get in your pants while he was about to murder something behind your back. You were disgusted by the thought that you imagined you and him being a couple, that you wanted to date him... You were disgusted by everything that included him because it reminded you of all this. When you just heard the name Jerome, you felt shivers down your spine and a feeling mixed of disgust and feeling poor.

One thing that confused you was: you couldn't throw his coat in the trash can. You kept it, it hung in your wardrobe and you smelled on it every day because his cologne was still buried in it, then you remembered the gorgeous night you had with him and all the feeling you felt...But then you remembered who he really was and what he has done right after the meeting of you which caused you to close your wardrobe fast and walking out of our room to quickly forget all that - day by day.

Full of boredom, you turned the TV on hoping something could entertain you there.

But then you saw this:

"Hello, Gotham City! We're the Maniax and I'm Jerome, the shot caller of our little gang. We're here to spread the message of wisdom and hope!"

You couldn't believe your eyes. It was Jerome with a bloody nose who cackled shortly, then shot a cop because he coughed and groaned in pain - he apparently disturbed his little show. He was back, he escaped out of Arkham.

Your body was shaking, your breathe was uneven - you were paralyzed.

You started panicking. No place felt safe for you anymore, especially not your little apartment. You needed to be with someone. You thought, when you're alone you'd be fucked. Maybe he remembered you and wanted to look for you? You remembered that he told you, he'd choose you over others. Of course, they could have been just words but now you never know... He was a psycho who might remember everything.

"Some people have no manners." He took a deeper look in the camera "You're all prisoners. What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing that y'all are a just tiny little cogs in a tiny absurd machine! WAKE UP!"

Jerome yelled in the TV what made you flinch and you curled up in your couch wrapping your arms around your legs tight. Your face was half hidden being your knees that you were still able to watch his little show - but with fear.

"Why be a cog? Be free like us!" Jerome started to cackle "And just remember, smile" he cackled squishing the dead cop's cheek while cackling louder.

Then you heard horns honking, the police was haunting him.

"Oh, time to go!" He crawled down do the ground taking a police head on and still held the camera tight "But dont worry, we'll be back very soon! Hang onto your hats folks, 'cause you ain't see nothing yet!" Jerome cackled insanely but you immediately turned the TV off.

You grabbed your phone fast to call your best friend (Y/bff/n). You needed to be with them. Being alone in a little apartment would just driving you nuts, especially when Jerome was out!

Your best friend was the only one who knew about Jerome being your one off as they knew that Jerome was a killer so they surely understood why you were so scared. You didn't want to risk anything - whether he'd remember you or not, you didn't want to be alone.

Your phone was ringing, you hoped they'd pick up the phone:

(Y/bff/n): hey (Y/n)! Wha-...

(Y/n): Have you watched the news?!

(Y/bff/n): Uhm...no, why? And why are y-...

(Y/n): Jerome's out of Arkham!!

(Y/bff/n): Wait what?! Are you sure it's the Jerome you're thinking of??

(Y/n): he was in the TV...he's planning something... Can stay with you? I can't stay alone. It's driving me nuts. I already have the feeling he's eyeing me from several corners.

(Y/bff/n): Of course! Come over now. We'll get your stuff later.

(Y/n): Thank you! I'm on my way already! See you!

You hung up, immediately taking your jacket, your phone, your keys and some shoes.

You ran out of your apartment, locking your door and walked straight to the next bus station.

You were in a hurry. Outside you didn't feel well at all. You felt being watched, being haunted. You had the feeling Jerome was everywhere and that he just waited the perfect moment to catch you. Everytime someone was walking past you, you felt shivers down your spine and you were scared that any person was a member of 'the Maniax' and kidnap you and bring you to Jerome. You walked faster to the bus station to arrive your best friend's home as fast as possible. You turned your head to the left, to the right, to see whether someone was haunting you. No one did though. It was just your mind.

As you arrived station, the bus came immediately.

You entered the bus as it stopped and chose a seat in the back.Everywhere around you cheerleaders were gossiping, laughing, squeaking about any boy who kissed a friend and such. You instead kept quiet and looked out of the window.

After a few minutes of driving, the bus stopped through a red car from the fire service that blocked its way. Its horns were honking and you could hear someone was getting out of the car.

You saw a ginger guy dancing out of the car on his way to the entrance of the bus. Your heart stopped. Was it Jerome? Was now the moment where you life will end?

He knocked at the door with something, the cheerleaders started to scream.

Something bad will happen now was what you thought while your pulse was running, your sweat was dripping down your forehead, and your hands were shaking. You wanted to cry, you wanted to crawl back in a corner and hope everything will be fine.

Suddenly the door opened, strangers in white suits with guns entered the bus and put us all in handcuffs that were sticker on chains while they pointed their guns at your heads. But for an unknown reason they went out immediately after everyone in the bus was handcuffed.

Cheerleaders were screaming louder, some even started to cry, to son, and to beg for mercy. You instead kept quiet. You couldn't scream. You were in shock and panic, in fear, some tears were already streaming down your cheeks while you tried break free - you failed.

"I want you all to know," you suddenly heard a familiar voice that paralyzed you in shock - he was here "this was a very difficult decision for us. It was between you and uhm... senior citizen bingo party. In the end we decided to skew a little younger. Youth won the day. Sorry." Jerome walked through the bus eyeing each cheerleader girl and pointed his gun at their heads.

With every step he did, you could hear a clicker-clacker caused by his shoes.

Your heartbeat felt like it could explode every minute. You had the feeling you would die soon. More and more tears streamed down your face, you were sobbing in fear, your hands shook uncontrollably. You just wished, you'd come out here alive.

Then Jerome stopped walking, he was eyeing you in surprise and excitement.

"(Y/n)?!" He bended down to you in astonishment completely around him that all the cheerleaders around him were crying and sobbing, and so were you "My, my, my, look at you. You've grown up in that time we haven't seen each other. How you're doing?"

You said nothing, you were just confused about his behavior.

What was wrong with him? Just a few minutes ago he was about to kill us and now he's behaving like an innocent child?! Was what you thought as you just gave him a confused look.

You were still scared though, maybe again he was just playing with your mind as one year ago just to get you?

"It's so good to see you (Y/n), you know that?" He sighed with a smile on his face leaning his elbow against the seat in front of you to lean his head against his hand "I really couldn't stop thinking about you when I was busted in this dirty old shack. The night in my trailer with you...it was marvellous! I still know each part of your body in detail...it brought me many good nights in my cell." Jerome chuckled dark.

You didn't know what to say. Was he about to kill you now? Was it all just a trick again? Do you have to feel honored now that he thought about you every night and jerked off your body?

You stared into his blue eyes, you could tell he was planning something new - and this time it included you.

"Yeah," Jerome kept staring at you with his grin in his face "Anyways, what's new in your life?"

"U-uhm...p-pretty boring...," You sniffed "Nothing has r-really changed since l-last y-year." You stammered feeling odd about having a normal conversation in such an actually dangerous situation.

"Hm..." Jerome hummed flicking his tongue "You know, actually I wanted to splash gasoline all over the cheerleaders and burn them but...now that you are here... I take you with me and THEN I continue my plan." Jerome uncuffed your hands taking them tight and ran with you out of the bus, the other cheeleaders started to scream and cry again and again begged for mercy.

As you and Jerome stood in front the open entrance of the bus, he softly wiped some hair strains behind your ear. With his thumb he caressed your soft skin and wiped all the tears and smeared mascara away.

Jerome smiled at you admiring your face for a while. He looked deep in your eyes, then down to your lips. With a finger snip your fear was gone, the feeling of uncomfortableness faded slowly. Your breathe was uneven though, his personality changes scared you still. Your hands was still trembling, your knees weak. But something told you that you didn't need to be scared of him anymore. He at least safed you.

"From now on, doll, you're mine."

[elliemarchetti]

The Most Beautiful and Golden of the Cages

Nobody cares, but I like it, so bear with me and accept this fourth chapter of my Haldir x half-elf fem!OC fic.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Words: 2677

For the first time since they had left Rivendell, her rest wasn’t disturbed by dreams or noises, and she opened her eyes again only the next morning, when Gimli knocked on the door to make sure she was okay. The days passed almost all the same, each moment illuminated by a clear sun, except when a drizzle fell, leaving everything fresh and clean. The air was sweet and mild, as if it was tender spring, yet everyone felt around them the deep and thoughtful stillness of winter. Even the attentions of Haldir, who at the behest of the Lady hadn’t returned to his usual task, gave her the same feeling: his smile was mild and his actions sweet, but his deep eyes let it be seen that something was troubling the quiet in his thoughts, and even while they ate and drank there was no lightheartedness in his gestures, as if only among the trees and the constant danger he really felt at home. Elva decided it was time to face the conversation in the only moment they had alone, that was before going to rest.

“If you wish to go back to your brothers and mansion, we can sleep with the rest of the Fellowship, there is no need for you to stay any longer in a house you certainly don’t love.”

Her words seemed to take him by surprise, and for a moment she feared he would take refuge in his room without giving any answer.

“To be your guide, even now we’re within the city walls, is a great honour, especially when your mission is so noble,” he replied, always with tender courtesy. He had praise and beautiful words to dedicate to her, but his gaze never rested too long on her figure, nor did their hands touched after they entered the gates.

“Yet you don’t seem satisfied,” she insisted, hoping not to be too intrusive, even though her mere presence within the talan told another story.

“Maybe I'm just unaccustomed to city life: I’ve lived in the woods for a long time now, and although I’m the only one in the family who travels to distant lands, I don’t like to sleep in a soft bed when my brothers face great risks every day,” he admitted, finally, and the subject was no longer brought up, but the next evening, as they were walking together in the cool twilight, silence fell again. They had both felt restless for the whole afternoon, unable to face the shadow of parting, but Elva knew it was something they had to address, mostly because they were going to give up each other’s reassurance for probably a violent fate.

“It’s wonderfully quiet here,” she commented, determined not to start too brutally. “Nothing seems to be going on, and nobody seems to want it to.”

“It’s the Lady’s magic,” he explained, in a neutral tone. “You can’t touch it, but I’m sure you can see and feel it everywhere.”

He was right, but the thing that struck her most was the latent intolerance he expressed toward the land he swore to protect, for which he could also have died at the hands of an Orc while patrolling, or perhaps it was directed to those who commanded it, but Elva didn’t dare to ask, mindful of Legolas’ words about Mirkwood. It’s the most beautiful and golden of the cages, but in the end, it still remains a cage, he said, during a full moon night, to explain to her what drove him to continually piss off his father and get away from his duties as heir to the throne. Even the excessive beauty of Lothlorien reminded her of home, where the benevolence shown hid the trap of a cunning king.

“I don’t think you can do much more to help us, magic or not,” she finally admitted, for the first time aloud. Until that moment, she had kept it in her thoughts, fearing it might become real, but now she knew she must accept it and go on.

“Before you go, you’ll have to see the Lady one more time,” he explained, and as if she had heard him, Galadriel appeared from a lawn, tall, white and fair, silently beckoning them to follow her toward the southern slopes of Caras Galadhon’s hill, where, crossing a green hedge, they entered a garden without trees, which opened to the clear sky where the first stars, glowing with white fire on the western woods, could be seen. The Lady descended a long staircase that led into a deep hollow, crossed by the murmuring stream that gushed from the fountain on the hill, creating a low and shallow silver basin, next to which was a silver jug. With water from the stream, Galadriel filled to the brim a tub with a pedestal carved like a leafy tree.

“This is my Mirror,” she said, in that distant, ancient voice. “I brought you here so you can look at yourself, if you wish.”

“What do I have to look for?” Elva asked, watching full of wonder the pale elf. She wasn’t deluded, probably that place would be or had already been shown to all the other travellers, but at the moment she felt important, as if the Mirror could reveal to her something it had kept silent even to its owner.

“What you wish to see, if that’s what you desire,” replied the Lady. “But the Mirror can also spontaneously show images of things that were, are and still must be, which are often strange and useful. Do you want to watch?”

The half-elf didn’t answer right away: she would’ve liked to know what was happening at home, to her friends and her king, but she was afraid she would only see the reflection of the stars, or something she wouldn’t be able to understand.

“Remember, the Mirror is a dangerous guide, as it shows many things and not all of them have already occurred, while some will never happen, if only who saw didn’t abandon their way to prevent them,” Galadriel warned her.

“I don’t think you’re advising me to look, but rather to see something,” Elva replied. No one in Mirkwood spoke in riddles, but Haldir’s ignorance about the High Elves harbours and all the ceremoniousness of their meeting with the Lord and the Lady led her to assume those elves were no more like them than the dwarves for the hobbits.

“Seeing is at the same time good and dangerous, yet I believe you have guts and wisdom enough to take the risk, otherwise you wouldn’t have revealed to your guide what my spouse and I have been hiding from our people for a long time,” replied the woman, but without any trace of the annoyance or anger she might’ve expected facing the topic. Of course it wasn’t necessary to ask her how she knew, but was she telling that her words had a positive influence on Haldir? She didn’t have the courage to turn to look at her companion’s face to find out, yet, she felt like she needed to dodge even the powerful woman’s gaze, who didn’t need to read her mind anyway to know what she was thinking.

“So, do you wish to look?” she insisted, when faced only with silence.

The marchwarden hadn’t spoke a word for the whole time, and although Elva would’ve preferred for him, who knew the Lady more thoroughly, to advise her, she decided on her own to have a peep, even if it seemed unsafe to be too close to Galadriel’s magic. Without touching the dark water, she leaned over the basin, and as if a veil had been instantly withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey and then clear, to show her the sun shining and trees branches waving and tossing in the wind, golden leaf falling way sooner than the spring buds blossom. Before she could make up her mind, the autumn light faded, and she saw Haldir, dying in her arms with many of his race around him. They were both covered in red and black blood, and she almost thought she could smell the stench of death in her nostrils, mixed with something that reminded her of wet soil, sweat and leather. His lips barely moved, but he told her to go ahead, and take care of his brothers. Without thinking, she looked away to meet his blue eyes, full of concern but at the same time as attractive as a clear sea on a hot summer day. As in a dream, she returned to his side, but everything was too strange and unreal to resist the urge she felt of touching him, a light peck on his hand just to be sure what was happening wasn’t yet another one of Galadriel’s mental games. His skin was warm, not dry with sweat as in the Mirror’s vision, but as soon as she reached out, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might fly away in the stagnant air and never come back. Obviously, the Lady hadn’t missed the whole scene, and when she asked her subject if he wanted to look too, the tone of her words had changed slightly, although Elva couldn’t understand if for the better or the worse.

“Do you advise me to do so?” he asked, but the woman answered with the umpteenth riddle, and the decision became only his. Very slowly, she felt the grip on her hand loosen, and for a moment, everything was suspended, superfluous, their barely touching fingers the only important thing. The separation was almost painful, and it seemed to Elva that between her and the elf, gazing so skilfully into the Mirror’s depth she supposed he had already done it, there were whole kingdoms and not just a dozen steps. If Lorien was apparently frozen in time, that place, like everything surrounding the Lady, seemed suspended above the laws of nature, beautiful and at the same time terrifying. Over time, she had learned that under too much perfection there was always something corrupt, something rotten, a secret to hide, perhaps in the shape of a chain mail sneaked under a tunic, or a ring delicately mixed with other shiny jewellery, slipped on a pale, slender finger. No description could ever match the wonder of seeing Nenya in person. The Ring of Adamant glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light, and its white stone twinkled as if Earendil, the Evening Star, most beloved of the Elves, had come down to rest upon the bearer’s hand, making her suspicions therefore correct: the Galadhrim had deliberately and conveniently avoided mentioning that Galadriel was the keeper of one of the three elven rings, hence they couldn’t be trusted.

“Let what has to happen, happen,” the Lady murmured when Haldir finished his dose of horrors too, so softly that Elva almost feared she had imagined it. “You’re not responsible for Lorien’s fate, but only for the fulfilment of your mission.”

“You’re wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,” he answered, but before Elva could turn to look at her, and inquire what she meant by those words, she found only the marchwarden, the lights dying quickly and the magic of that place  drained by the elf’s absence. Unable to confront with someone, for fear that the woman and her spouse might find out, she decided to remain silent and act as if nothing had happened, even though she was dying to pester Haldir with questions about both Lothlorien’s ruler and his attitude towards them, reverential and accommodating but far from the spell the couple seemed to cast on the rest of their subject, and what he had seen in the Mirror. The Lady hadn’t in itself forbidden them to tell each other what the Mirror had decided to reveal, but even just touching the question would’ve led her guest to ask her what she had glimpsed in its depths, and she wasn’t sure she could admit that he, and his death, were the backbone of the longest, and simplest to interpret, if it could be said, of the two narratives, of which there would be no time to speak anyway, as the Fellowship was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, where the Lord and Lady greeted them with kind words. At length they spoke of the departure and Galadriel confirmed that they all intended to continue, providing them with boats, which would allow the crossing of the Great River.

"Even if you haven't decided your path yet, Haldir will take you wherever you want, as he’s a skilled captain and we can do nothing more to help," the woman concluded, casting a long look at Elva, weighing her reaction. For she was a good diplomat, the half-elf tried to keep her expression neutral, but Gimli’s curiosity about that silent exchange was of no help, while Aragorn was luckily too distracted by the gift to care.

“All shall be prepared at the haven before noon tomorrow,” added Celeborn. “I’ll send my people in the morning to help you make ready for the journey, but now we’ll wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep.”

The whole Fellowship, plus its temporary new member, took their leave and returned to the pavilion to take counsel together; for a long time they debated what they should do, and how it would be best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring, but they came to no decision, even if it was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and to escape at least for a while from the terror of the Enemy. Some would’ve been willing to follow a leader over the River and into the shadow of Mordor, but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragorn was still divided in his mind, therefore Elva remained neutral, as she seemed to understand Gandalf wished before his early death. Admitting that he would never return still gave a strange feeling, above all because an inestimable number of mysteries would remain unsolved, and so many questions would remain unanswered, but by now she believed she had accepted it, the emptiness in her heart slowly filling up with a new and different feeling, which she had neither the time nor the energy to analyze, mostly because it would’ve been of no use, since, although she couldn’t yet know when, Haldir would still have to turn his back on them to return to the patrols in the woods with his brothers.

“I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,” said Boromir, and after that he was silent for a while, sitting with his eyes fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read the Halfling’s thoughts like the Lady had done in their first meeting. Only at length he spoke again, so softly he was probably debating with himself: “If you wish only to destroy the Ring, then there’s little use in war and weapons, and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help, but if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain, and folly to throw away,” he said, before pausing suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud.

“It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean,” he added. “It’s a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death, or at least, that’s how I see it.”

Elva hardly heard the last justification, too busy reliving a memory of the council, during which he had already expressed a thought of that kind. She looked at Haldir, but the elf  seemed deep in his own thought and made no sign that he had heeded Boromir’s words, so their debate ended and those who would have slept in the talan took their leave for the last time, while the night grew old and dark on Caras Galadhon, maybe darker than ever.

[jadekitty777]

Snapshot Aesthetics

OKAY BUT FG WEEKEND? WHO’S CRAZY IDEA WAS THAT.

You better know I want to participate though xD I didn’t plan to have an entry for today but, well, things change lol

Day 1: Outfits

Rating: K

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Clover's job was simple: Get the model to pose properly, smile, and take the shot. But the new hire, Qrow, was about to throw a wrench into that simplicity... in more ways than one. [Fashion Model AU]

Ao3 Link: Snapshot Aesthetics

~

Snap!

The sound of his camera shutter going off was almost inaudible under the early morning hustle that had overtaken the studio. Clover inspected the shot of Elm displaying back on his LCD screen. He shook his head, calling to the stagehand, “Lower the forelights! There’s too much washout!”

“You got it boss.” She saluted, stepping off the scene to go tinker with the fluorescents.

Th telltale sound of stilettos had his head turning, seeing Willow striding over, lips pursed with annoyance. “Are we ready yet?”

“Almost.” He assured, showing her the picture. “Just a bit more tweaking on the lights and we’ll be good to go.”

She placed a hand on her hip, scanning the team critically. “Good.”

“Everything alright? You look…” He mulled over all his safe adjective options, “Unhappy.”

She sighed exasperatedly. “Qrow is causing a bit of a ruckus back in dress. Won’t let Kali even do his makeup.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what I was thinking, listening to Taiyang.”

“It’s probably because the new guy’s pretty.” And related to Raven, he thought but didn’t dare utter the runway model’s name aloud. If he did, then it would make his manager think of her ex-husband and Raven’s agent, Jacques Schnee. That was a nasty pandora’s box he’d rather keep closed.

Nevertheless, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time she hired someone simply based on an affiliation they had to someone in Jacques’ team, thinking it as some retroactive way of getting back at him. Taiyang himself was one such decision, also ironically due his connection with Raven. Though, he’d heard the two’s relationship had been more… carnal in nature.

The plus was, Taiyang had worked out great. He was handsome and jovial and easy to direct on set. Clover’s only hope when he learned of the new hire was that the same could be said for Qrow; but, it was sounding like he had his twin sister’s notorious diva-like personality, if Willow’s frustration was anything to go by. Which meant he was in for a long day.

“Light check!” Elm called, flexing both arms proudly like a muscle builder.

He snapped the shot, then nodded at the quality. “Perfect!”

Willow swiveled, heading for the door. “Let’s get started then.”

~

Over the course of the seven years Clover had worked for Trendy magazine, he’d discovered that each fashion designer had a specific ‘taste’ they were going for when it came to showing off their line-up and he’d learned to pose the models accordingly to keep their clients happy and coming back for each issue. So, he kept certain things in mind with each designer’s desires, like how Sienna preferred her poses to be as dynamic and wild as possible and Camilla wanted proper posture and a bit of elegance.

Unfortunately, today’s clothing line was from Roman and Neo. Which meant balancing the two designers’ conflicting requirements of flamboyance and subtlety into one picture. It tended to lead to a lot of small changes for limb placement and expression before he ever even rose his camera.

So, it tended to be a relief when the snap sounded off and he said, “Alright, you’re done!”

“Oh, thank god!” Tai slumped over immediately, rolling out his shoulders. “I think my neck has a crick in it.”

Clover snorted. “Alright drama king. Go take a break.” He turned towards the doorway, calling, “Who’s next up?”

He heard Kali’s faint, “Get in there. And stop messing with your hair!”

A gruff voice he didn’t recognize replied, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Before Qrow Branwen walked into the room and stole his breath away.

Though he’d joked before, Clover hadn’t actually known what the man had looked like. He rarely did see new models before their first shoot. But now that he was, it had to be said that maybe Willow had indeed hired Qrow simply for his beauty. In almost every way, he was like a softer version of his sister. Where her skin was striking alabaster white, his had more of a welcoming ivory tone. Where her eyes were bright scarlet, his were a gentle vermillion. And where her hair was an ink black, his held streaks of dusty grey that somehow was just enough to make him appear refined, but not old.

Combine that with Roman and Neo’s classy “modern early-1900’s” style, and he looked absolutely dazzling. It was one of their simpler pieces, but dress had made sure he wore it well, especially with the plain, long-sleeved, white dress shirt that someone had decided to undo the top few buttons off to frame a cross necklace hanging sideways. Pulled over that and adding some muted color was a double-layered vest that buttoned from the bottom of the ribs down. The inner layer was a slate grey while the outer layer was a deep charcoal and had a tasteful embroidery design flowing down the sides. The matching dark grey slacks were fairly standard but nicely fitting to the man’s ridiculously long legs. Completing the picture were some shiny cap-toed black dress shoes.

“So uh, how do you want me?” Qrow asked, fidgeting with the cross-shaped cufflinks of his shirt.

Splayed across my bed. Clover shook himself of any indecent thoughts, nodding towards the set that mimicked an old parlor room. “Center stage, leaning back on the table.”

He nodded, crossing the room.

As they passed each other, Tai offered a thumb’s up and a cheery, “Good luck!”

The little half-grin Qrow offered his friend left Clover floating.

Not that the other man was going to need any well wishes, as he’d decided on something fairly simplistic. As Qrow took position, he directed, “Alright, I want you to rest your hands on the table, in view. Keep your fingers spread out.”

“Like this?” He settled them by his hips.

“Mm no. Spread your arms further apart. Position your hands the other way, pointing opposite directions. Yeah – like that! A little more for the right hand. Relax your shoulders more. No, no not that much.” And on and on it went, as Clover altered each little angle and body part until he had the exact position in mind. Yet, despite the ease of what he was asking for, Qrow’s inexperience meant he had to spend twice as long getting things just right.

It quickly became clear by his 60th order that the older man was growing a bit exasperated.

Clover eyed him up and down. Hummed thoughtfully at the position of where his ankles crossed, the toe of one dress shoe pointed down. “Okay, tilt your left heel just a bit more.”

“Is all this really necessary?” Qrow grumbled, trying not to move anything else but his foot.

“When the client is picky, yeah. And stop clawing your fingers. Keep them flat.”

The other man breathed in and out slowly, carefully resting down his hands.

He gave him another once over. Frowned.

The tension he could easily see doubled as Qrow demanded, “What now?”

“Maybe we should try something different.” He considered.

The words were met with Qrow groaning out, “You got to be kidding me.”

And Willow cutting in, “Go with it. We got to get this shoot done before noon!”

He glanced at his wristwatch. Shit, was it really almost eleven? He still had four other designs to go. “Yeah, alright. Qrow, just try to relax your muscles a bit.” He rose his camera. “Alright, now smile.”

He did, stretching it as big as he could.

Clover looked at him over the lens, raising a brow. “I said smile, not look like you’re trying to imitate clown make-up.” Ignoring the other’s sarcastic laughter, he mulled it over, then snapped his fingers. “Ah, I know! Give me the same one you gave to Tai when you first walked in.”

He could tell it wasn’t quite right when it didn’t have the same cloud nine effect on him as before, but with the clock ticking in his head, he took the shot.

“Alright, that’ll do.” Clover said.

“We’re done?” Qrow asked, not moving an inch, as if worried he’d change his mind.

“Yep. You’re free as a bird.”

That earned him a real laugh. “That was awful!”

For the hell of it, he took another shot.

~

There was always such a sense of relief when Clover submitted the photos to processing. From there the team would do whatever touch ups were necessary before it went in for print. Normally, the rest of his day was done, but he had another engagement at a rally across town that would keep him busy well into the evening. So, he found himself stepping into the break room, intent on grabbing a cup of coffee and heading on his way.

He was surprised to find Qrow there, huddled in one of the corner tables. He was dressed down, back in his casuals, but still managed to make a t-shirt and some slacks look like runway material. They met gazes briefly, before the elder man’s eyes dropped back to his phone, not saying a word.

Already short on time, Clover was content to leave it like that, but as he finished mixing his coffee together, guilt seeped in. If they were going to be working together, then one of them had to take the first step and it was much harder for the new guy to take it.

“You did good today.” He spoke.

Qrow scoffed. “You kidding? I was a disaster.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be lucky if they ask me to come back.”

Ah. So, he wasn’t a snob - he was insecure. Clover could work with that.

“Ah come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He crossed the room, turning the opposite chair sideways and falling into it. “You’re just a little stiff. A few more of these and you’ll relax.” He paused, then added, “Oh, and take it a little easy on the people in dress.”

“They were trying to poke my eye out! Whoever invented eyeliner is a demon.”

He guffawed heartily. “It’s not that bad.”

Qrow sighed, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Still, I don’t know what I was thinking, letting Tai convince me to take this job.”

Seemed Tai was doing a lot of that lately.

“I’m not a model. That’s my sister’s gig. And…” Qrow gestured to himself. “I mean, look at me.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it must get tiring getting all those calls from Mr. Universe asking you to come reclaim your crown.” He countered.

“Tch, if anyone’s got a crown to go reclaim, it’s probably you.” A second later, he seemed to realize what he said and hid his face in his hand. “Oh my god, I didn’t just- I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

Clover couldn’t stop grinning. “Relax gorgeous. You’re in the right business to be making comments like that.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t feel so bad, either. You’re not the only one self-conscious around here. Winter? Breaks out before every shoot. James? Has a scar right here.” He ran a finger above the line of his right eyebrow. “And by now, we’ve got to be giving Tai a complex with how much gets altered in processing.”

“He certainly had a lot to say about last month’s issue.”

“Well, you know, we gotta follow those trends and freckles are in.” He was sure there was a lot of talk on the questionable ethics of digitally changing people’s appearances to portray an unobtainable beauty, but it was a topic he wasn’t too interested in engaging with. In the end, it all just came down to the paycheck and keeping people’s jobs. Because if a model couldn’t sell the clothes they were wearing, then they weren’t going to get to keep modeling them.

Qrow leant back, crossing his arms. “Wonder how much they’ll change about me.”

“Well, they’ll definitely take out those cute wrinkles you get around your eyes when you laugh.”

“I wasn’t laughing?”

“Not in the first shot. But I may have…” He shrugged sheepishly. “Taken another one, right at the end? You looked more natural.”

Qrow blinked. “Well. Alright then. Guess that’s why you’re the expert.” His gaze drifted past Clover’s shoulder at about the same time he heard the footsteps. “Hey Tai. All done?”

“Yeah.” The blond replied as he stopped at their table, eyeing him suspiciously. “Hopefully the company flirt wasn’t giving you trouble.”

“Oh sunshine,” Clover drawled, playing it up as he bat his eyelashes at the other man. “I hope you know you’re my one and only.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Save it for the guys actually swinging your way.” He nodded to his friend. “Come on, we better get moving if we want to get the girls on time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Qrow stood. “It was nice meeting you Clover.”

“Same here. Looking forward to working with you.” He replied sincerely. A pleasant little warmth tingled through him when the sentiment earned him an adorable smile.

As he watched him go, Clover cast his earlier worries aside and decided that this truly was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

[hopetofantasy]

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere. 

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away. 

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster. 

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

 -^-

 He didn’t remember how he got there. 

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace. 

Robbe liked that. 

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!” 

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!” 

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else? 

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table. 

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time. 

Right before the fire alarm went off. 

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down. 

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally. 

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

 -^-

 “Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared...  Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence. 

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was.  He was going to shut his mouth now. 

It only took him a half hour. 

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence. 

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey. 

Pushing and pulling. 

Shouting. Screaming. Crying. 

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping. 

Falling. Falling. Falling. 

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later: 

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?” 

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

 -^-

 “It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt. 

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.” 

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself. 

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

 And waiting he did.

[bangbangchanie]

The Colors Of Life- Lee Jeno

Summary: When you were young your soulmate always made you look like the sun, his happiness radiating off of your skin almost every second of every day. So when all of asudden all color but darkness disappeared you were determined, that when you finally met him you would somehow bring that color back.

Pairing: Lee Jeno X reader

Warning:  Angst, mentions of extream depression, soulmates, death of a soulmate, fights, suicidal thoughts, mentions of therapy, light smut and fluff.

The Colors Of Us~ NCT Soulmate Au MasterList

{Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3} {Part 4}

Emotions defined the world around you, where people reflect an aura of color based on how their soulmate feels and it's always seemed a bit painfully beautiful in away to you. Always knowing what your soulmate was feeling due to the color you could see surrounding you, looking down at your hands and seeing the brightest of yellows could make your day but the days where you looked down and all you saw was black were days full of worry.  

You remember the first day you registered the color that swarmed around you, you were around five, it was a bright almost neon yellow that blinded you. Your mother was smiling brightly at you, gold swarming around her, shimmering around her as she bent down and gently grabbed your arm. You remember the shine in her eyes and the way the color around her seemed to shimmer, even more, the gold color flaking around her making you tilt your head to the side. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked down and smiled and looked back up at you and said.

“Looks like your father is thinking of us again.” And from that day forward your world changed, you learned of the colors that seemed to surround people and how it reflected emotions of another, another that was made for you in every way somehow. Your mother explained it as if one soul was split in two, and the souls would call out to one another by reflecting its emotions onto its missing piece, and when you finally met, finally touch the color around the two of you glows, she explained it to be almost like the sun.

After that day, where you learned your soulmate was so happy he or she probably was laughing till they couldn’t breathe, you became obsessed with color. You became obsessed with the different shades you would see of the soulmate feeling color wheel as you would say, your favorite muse was your parents. The gold that always flecked off of each other when they were near one another, and the way it glowed as it did, even, the hues of blue that would fleck off your father after the screaming was beautiful because somehow gold was still reflecting with in the blue. Or the day when you had ended up in the hospital and your mother had run into your room panic clearly on her face, your arm in a sling, and the purple color the surrounded her was mixing with an orange that was also lifting off of her skin.  Your father had later rushed in, the purple was light as you had seen your mother's panic had lightened and was turning into almost a grey tone lilac color.

You turned your obsession onto paper, art became the muse that you could never stop doing, even when you were just sitting there, you usually would have a pen in hand and were drawing onto your skin. Your older brother Jaehyung would always watch the way you would draw in color, how your drawing always reflected the various shades of yellows mixed with orange and sometimes Maroons, knowing that your soulmate was always happy and doing something that would test his limit made him happy.

But then it started to go black.

You were sixteen, sitting at the dining room table in the morning, your mother had a light yellow mixed with gold flecking off of her skin, your father also had yellow but there was white mixed in as your mother had burned her hand while cooking breakfast that morning. Jaehyungs soulmate wherever they are were either stressed or scared, but you all were leaning towards stressed as yellow was also flecking off with the purple. You all were laughing and moving around fighting over the last of the pork belly your mother had cooked up when the yellow faded to black, it was slow, it started with almost droplets of black dropping into the yellow that always seemed to have glowed from your skin.

By the end of the day the yellow was almost a faded memory making your heart hurt, why was your soulmate depressed? Yes, you’ve seen the sadness through the various shades of blues hue over your skin over the years but never, ever have you seen the black that so many have feared to see. Yet here it is, illuminating off of your skin, and no matter what you do, you know it's not gonna leave, so you keep living your life.

You pushed through high school, art still being your obsession, though black had become your new medium, all of your works were based around the color that had not left your skin since that morning, some days you would see specks off that missed yellow from time to time, but you mainly saw drops of blue or white mixture into the back. Your artwork would reflect on those days with a splatter of color within it making you smile.  

When you went to college on an art scholarship, your parents couldn’t be prouder, Jaehyung and his soulmate, Joy, were also so proud of you. You went to school doing what you love and nothing else, so even though you went to your other classes and passed, you primarily were in the art room creating especially when you started selling your work for a couple hundred dollars here and there. It was nice making a living by yourself and on your own, you made friends, and you and your friend Jaemin shared the blackness the surrounded your skin, though sometimes his would suddenly go blurry out of nowhere, you also met you first person who had ever lost their soulmate Yangyang, no color illuminated from his skin but he said he had gotten used to it since he was twelve when it happened he had even dated some other people here and there who had lost their soulmates and was even in a club.

Everything was going amazing, you had amazing friends, going to your dream school and were doing a job that you truly loved and honestly the only thing that was missing at this point was the one and only.

And maybe you would find them if you weren’t always hidden in your art room or the college art room.

This is where Jaemin and Donhyuck exactly had found you this afternoon, charcoal smeared across your cheek and hair in a messy ponytail. A drawing of a woman holding onto a child, as gold fleck within the black showing the love the mother had for the child. Jaemin couldn’t help but swoon over the piece as Donhyuck chuckled as you huffed at the two for messing with your ‘zen’, as you call it.

“What do you two want?” You whined as Dounghuyck licked his thumb and whipped at your cheek, making you scrunch your face up at him. Jaemin chuckled again as he looked at you and then grabbed your hand, your shades of black matching making you give him a tight-lipped smile as he shakes his head at you.

“We want you to come to a little kickback we’re having tonight, and please don’t say no,”  Jaemin said with his eyes wide and lip jutted out.

“But I don-”

“You always say you don’t like socializing, but come on!” Jaemin whined, his arms wrapping around your waist as you look to Donghyuck, grey illuminating off of his skin as he chuckled as you kept you pleading face toward the honey skin boy. “Y/n, please! I want people to realize that you’re real and that I and Hyuck aren’t making you up.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a huff as you finally place your hands onto Jaemins shoulders and push him back, giving him a small smile you sigh and move you leave your art room. “Where are you going?”

“If I'm going out I would love to actually love not to be covered in charcoal and smell like paints.” Your words made Jaemin let out a squeal as he jumped onto your back, as Donghyuck just smiled brightly at the two of you as the three of you piled out of your art room. You went to your bedroom, while the two boys went to your kitchen making you freeze as you huff. “You better not eat all of the food you two!”

“Then don’t take too long!”

“Oh hush up Hyuck I will turn back around and lock myself in that room so help me go-”

“I have a key, and I’ll just drag you outside with how you look now.” His words made you zoom into your bedroom and shut the door, their belly laughter making you shake your head as you move around your room grabbing your clothes. Simple blue skinny jeans and a large blue sweater, walking into the small bathroom connected to your bedroom your hop in the shower as quickly as you could. Once you were out you slipped onto your clothes and quickly moved to put your makeup on, eyebrows, some eyeshadows, and eyeliner with a lip tint. Smiling at yourself, you ruffle your still-damp hair and move out of your bedroom to be greeted with Jaemin tackling Donghyuck, making you freeze your phone in hand as you let out a tiny gasp.

“What in the world.” you chuckled making both of the boys head snap and look at you, eyes wide as Donghyuck kicked Jaemin off of him, making the pink-haired boy fall to the ground. You watched the chestnut brown hair Dounghyuck stand up from your floor and smooth out his clothing as he smiles up at you stepping over Jaemin towards you.

“Are you ready?” He asked making you nod as Jaemin sat up, and shook his hair making you smile softly at the two, the three of you left your apartment and headed to Donghyuks.  

Once you arrived you were greeted but the bright yellow that surrounded Renjun, though it wasn’t as bright as yours used to be making your heart twinge in pain as you smiled at the small lanky boy.

“Y/n you finally came to one of these things!” Renjun said with a smile on his face as you nodded and walked in, Lucas was there a Chinese exchange student sat on the couch, the color red was radiating off of him, with hints and purple dripping into it. His hand was rapidly typing on his phone as he let out a frustrated groan. “He and his soulmate are in a bit of a heated argument," Renjun said making you chuckle slightly as you nod, walking further into the apartment as Lucas finally looks up from his phone and smiles at you, though it was tight and slightly painful.

"Hi, Lucas." He said making you nod as you move to sit slightly next to him.

"Y/n." He nodded back as he started focusing back onto his phone, as he continued typing before he shook his head and shut it off placing it on the coffee table in front of you. "So who are we waiting for?" You asked as Jaemin moved to sit next to you, his arm going around your shoulders as he pulled out his phone making you quickly lean into his chest as you watch him scroll through Instagram.

"Mark and Jeno."

"Jeno?" You asked looking up at Jaemin, his eyes focusing on his phone as he quickly glanced down at you and nodded.

"Yeah, he’s  my cousin."

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Tagged by @noire-pandora! Thank you for the tag!

5 Favorite Writing Bits - I’m just going to include some stuff from 2020. Because 2021 has been a lot of Astarion and Ferelith so far. So from oldest to newest, here we go!

1. WIP from Voices of the Fade - I swear I’m going to get to this one day. So help me. This is actually what made me want to write this series. It was the first thing I wrote for it. And it made me just incredibly heart broken.

There was something about the way the sunlight hit... She was naturally pale, so her ivory skin was glowing against her cheekbones. They defined the side of her face, giving the soft shape of her profile a hint sharpness. Her nose was so small. And so were her lips, despite how pouty the bottom one was. But it was the way the sunlight hit her face that made him stare in awe. When her eyes opened, he shifted hoping it was not his gaze that woke her. She blinked up at him as if in disbelief. He brushed a strand from the corner of her mouth as she came to.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"Home," he answered.

The stone walls of the fortress were the color of dark sand. It kept the rooms cool from the scorching sun. The windows were thick and tinted, as well, preventing any sort of breeze from intruding. The smells of the Anderfels were not always pleasant. And the birds were always hungry. Nevertheless, the mountains were massive and a wonder to look at. Like green giants plastered against a forever grey wall. And Weishaupt was it's gem. A place of honor of protection. A place of fragrant foods and quiet murmurs. And a place where the clashing of swords and explosions of magic echoed through the grounds. It was everything he had imagined.

"This is nice," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he heaved a happy sigh.

"Shame this isn't what really happened, though."

It was too confusing to mutter a response. Not that he could as a lump swelled in the depths of his throat. His mouth refused to open. And he watched as her face burned under the sunlight, a bright hot light that sizzled into ash, the same color as her hair. He reached out for her, his hands burning. It was too late.

2. From the first chapter of A Dame’s Tale (Claira Trevelyan’s origin story) - This was super personal for me. My mother was emotionally abusive and my dad was always working so he couldn’t always be there for me. And this was really just something I drew from that.

"Do proper ladies raise their hand?"

"No," the tears began to swell.

"Are you a proper lady, Claira?"

"Yes, Mother. I am," her voice cracked.

"I don't think you are."

"I promise I'll do better."

"You promised last time."

"Please, Mother, I promise. For real this time."

The tears were now little streams dripping down the side of her face. Her voice cracked as she wailed a plea for her mother's forgiveness. Her mother was silent, her eyes scanning over her youngest child as she stood sobbing in front of her. This little girl- her knuckles and cheek bruised, her lip bloodied, her dress torn with patches of dirt, her dark hair a tangled mess, and her face wet with tears- this was not the daughter she had prayed for.

"Go with your father. He'll take you to your room."

Claira struggled to catch her breath between cries and a warm hand on her shoulder didn't help. She let out the tears she had been holding back and she fought to keep her eyes open. Although blurry, she could see the back of her mother's dress swaying as she strode to the other side of the room to the balcony door. She did not see the rest as her father had reached down to clutch her hand.

3. Some super serious Aeva x Solas angst. I have feelings about eluvians. This is from Whispers in the Garden.

For a moment she saw a cliff side outlined with trees adorning flowers that was quickly obscured by a tall figure, shrouding her view. She stepped back further, feeling the air from the other side chill her entire body. Aeva became overwhelmed with the thought that this could be real and she stepped backward even further to take in the familiar shape. The mirror's image closed, making a small sound like shutters closing quickly against wind. And now the only light in the room was from the moon shining down through a window above. It made his face look pale. But other than that, it was just as she remembered.

His hands were folded behind him with his shoulders back and his chin held up proudly. His face was the same, but he was still different. It was nothing like he used to be. He wasn't the mage with the rugged tunic. He was a soldier. No... a commander in gleaming metal armor. The anger came rushing back to her as she remembered the last time he walked through a mirror. The way he used her for his own gain. Disappointment replaced her distraught and she felt ever foolish for wishing to see him. Her fist curled tightly against her and she drew in a deep breath through gritted teeth. But before she could yell, he was on her, his gloved hand pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Shhhh," he said softly into her ear.

With her only hand, she tried to push him away. She didn't want to see him. And she affirmed that by closing her eyes tightly. She hit him in the shoulder over and over until her hand hurt. Until her knuckles felt raw. Until she felt the skin punctured.

"Vhenan," he whispered.

The sound of the name he used to call her on his lips just made things worse. She pushed him one last time, feeling her arm go weak. Her knees began to shake and they buckled. Tears pushed past her eyelids, crashing down as she began to yell into the palm of his hand. He waited until she had exhausted herself. He held her at her waste and loosened his grip the moment he felt her muscles were no long tense. He removed his hand from her mouth, lifting her chin to look at her face. Her eyes were hooded and she still refused to look at him. But he could tell that she was beyond tired. Her body seemed lighter than before. Her skin had lost it's sun touched glow. Her lips were cracked.

"Enough," she felt her mouth make the shape, but was unsure if the sound came out.

He kept hold of her in fear that she would collapse.

"You can't keep doing this," she went on, finally hearing the raspy tone in her voice.

Her eyes finally opened and he could see now they were still piercing green. The yellow flecks inside were illuminating her eyes like they were on fire. They brought a flutter of fear into his chest, like the moment before being struck suddenly by fangs. But it quickly faded as she brought her hand to his face. It felt like the same man. The same smooth skin with a sharp jawline and faint smile. It sounded just like him too. Looked at her the same. But it wasn't.

"You can't come into my dreams anymore," she said. "I can't take it."

4. So I did a thing where I combined Aeva’s fear of drowning with the fear of what she lost with Solas. And because she connects fear with anger, it all just combines into a huge mess of emotion. This was the first time I really was able to portray that. An expert from Chapter 7 of Strange Fates.

Aeva walked to edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves swelling beneath her. There was the strange feeling again. The fear of the nothing beyond the sea. It was a larger feeling than what she felt at the barge. It was like the all the other times... like the first time...

The first time she saw waves this large...

The first time she sat on the coast...

(memory) The rain came down heavy and she looked outside her tent. It wasn't letting up any time soon. She paced, rubbing her hands on her face. If she didn't act soon, the trail would grow cold and she would never find the Grey Wardens. The flap to her tent lifted without any announcement of arrival. And he stood, a look of concern on his face. He offered her a warm drink. They sat across from each other on her cot. He made her laugh. He took her hand, but it was for research. His fingertip traced in the inside of her palm. She snatched it back...

"Aeva?" Fenris jumped down from the wagon. "You're looking at the sea strangely again."

"Yes..." she shook her head. "Yes I am."

"Ferguson is setting up camp if you-"

There was a drifting silence between them as she brushed by. Her movements seemed slow and her eyes looked blank. Almost as if she were in some sort trance. It had been a long night. And upon further inspection, he could see spurts of blood across her armor. Still, for her not to respond at all was odd.

"... want to take some time to rest," he finished his sentence, watching the back of her disappear around the wagon.

The tents were nothing like she used when traveling with the Inquisition. These were much smaller. Large enough for a cot and maybe a table if you angled it correctly. Her tent was in the northernmost corner and the closest to the fire, which Ferguson had already prepared. It was still small and clinging onto the wood from the blowing wind, but he stoked it carefully so it did not catch flame to the pine needles below. Iris sat nearby peeling potatoes and whistling softly. They looked as Aeva came through, but said nothing.

The fear from the waves was not going away. And the more she thought about a way to be rid of it, the worse it got. Aeva did not handle fear well. It simmered in her chest, tightening her lungs and making her heart race. When it began to boil, she burst with rage. And she couldn't let that happen. Not in front of the camp. There was only one thing she could do. She reached into her pack, looking for a specific vial. And it was there bundled in the center of strange looking leaves. It was a black mixture with floating powder. In most cases, she would use it as a bomb to subdue her enemies. But mixed with the liquid, it became a sleep aid in small doses. She shook it up, causing it swirl slowly. The small cork made a small pop as she opened it. And with a wrinkled nose, she took one drink of it as if it were a shot of the strongest ale. There was a bit of a gag, but then she swallowed hard a second time to try and be rid of the taste. The cork went back into the vial, between the leaves, and bound with string once again before she placed it back in her pack. The affects were almost instant. And she barely had enough time to lay her head on the pillow. It was her escape... for a time...

5. THIS piece of dialogue from The Quiet Closet. I was so proud of this. It was the first piece of smut I not only wrote seriously but posted. And this dialogue to me is just... oof. Um NSFW by the way.

"You," she growled. "You make me weak."

"You like it," he whispered teasingly, his finger massaging her below.

"I hate it. I despise it. I despise you."

Asatrion laughed, slipping a second finger over her. She attempted to sink down again to feel his knee, but found his grasp on her wrists were far too tight. She looked up at them helpless, leaving her neck open for his taking. He caressed over it, licking it to taste her flesh and biting slightly over her throat, thoughts tempting his darker nature. But he had sworn it wouldn't happen again. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the circumstances, he would only take what she gave. Ferelith may have enjoyed losing control in that moment, but that didn't change her need to command other things. It seemed a bit odd to his taste, but all the same fascinating. And he wanted to explore it further.

"Tell me more," he demanded. "Tell me how much you hate me."

She dropped when he loosened his grips, her back relaxing down the wall. With a gentle nudge, his knee rose up to meet her and he felt her hips sway against him. He moved his fingers in motion, straightening them as she came in like a rolling tide.

"I hate how charming I find you," her eyes closed and her voice sound as if she were in a trance. "I hate that you make me laugh."

She inhaled quickly as he pressed harder into her core, her head hitting the wall as she reared back. He felt her body tighten and urged her forward with his knee.

"Go on," he said, baring witness to the moments of joy on her face.

"I hate the sound of your voice," she lowered her brow with concentration. "I hate how attracted I am to you."

The heat from her body was making him crave her, now, and he could feel himself growing excited at the quickness of her breath. Her spite made it all the better. The more anger she released, the stronger her movements became, and the longer his strokes became. It became difficult to hold onto her and her hands slipped through his grasp as he tried to ground himself, his hand slamming onto the wall.

"I hate this constant desire I have for you..."

Her hands dug into his hair, feeling the back of his skull. The sensation of her nails scratching against his scalp brought him closer. His hand skipped up the wall as he faltered for a moment, his face buried in her hair. The fragrance she gave was enticing, as it always was.

"... this desire to feel you. Next to me. Against me. Inside me..."

Slowly, her hands slid down to his shoulders. One remained, gripping tightly. While the other slithered up his neck, her fingers finding their grasp on either side of his face. He did not fight her pull to bring him to her gaze.

"Still... If I believe for one second you'll betray me..." she said through heavy pants, "I'll kill you."

And uh yeah... 2020 was a pretty productive year. I think I really got back into fanfiction and posting things and being more active here on Tumblr. And I’ve met some really cool people because of it. Now I’m dabbling in other fandoms and everyone has been so supportive and amazing. It’s just really wonderful. Thank you guys! And I look forward to reading more stuff from everyone.

[beginagainbugle]

What: Erik sits with The Daily Planet for an interview about Genosha: who they are, what their government is like, their hopes for the future. Tagging: Erik Lehnsherr ( @master-of-magnetism​ ) & Kara Danvers ( @maidenxfmight​ ) Warnings: Holocaust mention, genocide mention, death mention, injury mention

KARA: “You ready?”

Was she? Kara’s jaw hurt from how hard her teeth had been clenched. The notes on her page seemed to jump off, the contrast too high. There was too much noise. The cameraman’s heartbeat pounded like a drum against the inside of her skull. She’d rather be home, tucked under her blankets with her ear-muffs on. Room dark.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” If she tilted her glasses down, she could see him. If she cared less, she could fry through the wall that separated them. Someone said ‘bring him in’ and Kara pushed her glasses up her nose.

ERIK: This, he’d expected. The world had turned upside down over one long weekend, and everyone was still trying to make sense of it all. There were mixed responses to the change of status quo, thus far, and news organizations had been clamoring for a word from the leader of the world’s newest sovereign state.

If Erik had his way, he’d be there now, but it was important to go through the motions this early on. It was strange but freeing to be able to walk the streets of New York without concealing himself.

The producers were chatting at him now, presumably trying to prep him, but Erik was more focused on trying not to smack at the hand of the makeup artist tapping powder on his face. As it turned out, he didn’t have to–she was brushed aside by the producer, who had one hand pressed to his earpiece. “Right through here.”

It was Kara. Because of course it was. He knew, he’d been prepped, but his ribs still twinged slightly at the memory of the last time he’d seen her. Even so, he plastered on a cool smile, settling himself into the chair opposite her. “Ms. Danvers.”

KARA: She waited until he was seated across from her before meeting his eyes. She looked at the set of the cameras, the rug beneath their feet, the small coffee table with the obligatory glasses of water that sat on top, him. He looked the same, and her heart moved double-time in her chest. Rao, she didn’t want this.

But she kept her gaze firm, and she refused to back down. He’d told her to embrace her anger, and she was learning. She found a polite smile for the sake of manners, and the camera crew around them. “Mr. Lehnsherr. Shall we get right to it?”

The less time she spent with him, the better. She gave a nod to the cameraman, keeping Erik in her periphery as she watched him count down. “Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to another Daily Planet exclusive. Today we’ll be talking with Erik Lehnsherr about his recent acquisition of Genosha. He has been a vocal proponent of mutant rights for years; a war that only last week ended in a showdown with government authorities. Mr. Lehnsherr, thank you for coming in today.”

ERIK: The cast of her eyes made something between his still-sore ribs and his stomach twist itself into knots. She glanced around the studio, eyes cutting back to him every few moments, and Erik knew intimately that particular sort of wariness. The importance of keeping eyes on a threat without making eye contact and risking the response to that. He could feel the way her heartbeat sped up in her chest, even behind the carefully maintained mask of neutral interest.

She had almost killed him. Could, still, if it came to it. And yet she was afraid. Furious, too, since the heat in her eyes was only just banked, but he knew the signs of fear nevertheless. (She was looking at him like he’d once looked at Schmidt, and he wasn’t… he wasn’t like that. Was he?)

Erik looked away for a moment, shoved whatever that was squarely back into its box. Now was not the time. (Never was preferable.) Focus on Genosha. Only Genosha. Not Kara, not Raven, and definitely not Schmidt.

And then the cameraman was counting down, and Erik plastered back on a cool smile, watching the camera light flick from red to green. Compartmentalization. He settled back in his seat, demeanour shifting into the suave steadiness Kara had become acquainted with in the Before. “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Danvers. The world has changed very quickly, in the last few weeks, for everyone, and I’m honored to help provide what I can of clarity and perspective.”

KARA: “I’m sure our viewers would love some of both.” Kara’s fingers ran over her edges of her notebook. He looked as comfortable in the hot seat as he had in that alley, with a cigarette held loose in his fingers and fire dancing in his eyes. She had to remind herself this was a job, just a job.

She loved what she did, truly. Journalism hadn’t only been about following in Clark’s footsteps, it had been about sharing the truth. Her own planet had died, and everyone she knew along with it, because her parents had kept the truth to themselves. She wondered what truth she was trying to expose here. Genosha wasn’t only for Erik. It was for Scott, for Jean and Gabby and Lorna. Twisting it for them wouldn’t actually help.

Her own feelings didn’t matter, and she tamped them down as best she could. Even when her skin crawled, even when her heart hammered out of her chest.

“Let’s start with your vision for Genosha. It’s obviously new, and will have much growing to do. Tell us about it now, and where do you see it going in the future?”

ERIK: The mention of Genosha made the smile a bit easier, a bit more genuine. He was proud of what they’d accomplished, proud to be able to talk about it.

“My vision is, and always has been, a place where mutantkind can be safe from the oppression we’ve faced for so long in human societies. I lived in Israel for some time, many decades ago, and I quite took to the idea of creating a space where a people that had been roundly oppressed on a global basis could live freely in close community with their own kin. That’s why we offered mutants, and by-birth metahumans, automatic citizenship eligibility. And the island is coming along well, so far. We have a diverse set of mutants on the island who are willing and able to help shape our peoples’ new homeland. There are teams dedicated to terraforming the island and fostering fauna growth, teams dedicated to construction, and then, of course, the Council, led by myself, that will be shaping our national policies. We’ve been able to swiftly secure resources and funding for business growth. In the meantime, transportation between New York City and Genosha is easy–all that’s required is a security check at the border.”

KARA: It had always been hard to argue with Erik. His history had more than earned him the right to his anger, and his love for his people shone through in every word he said. She thought of Jason, and blacks and whites, and all those grey areas in between. What happened to her felt so black and white, wrong, but Erik saw more shades of grey than she did.

Her hands skimmed over her notebook, a movement she worked hard to quell, and her eyes never left Erik. “An admirable vision.” More than a vision, a reality literally growing not too far from where they sat. There was a notable enough pause between one question and the next that her cameraman poked his head around his screen. A question burned on the tip of her tongue, and she swallowed it back. “What would you say to mutants or metahumans who want somewhere safe, but who were possibly…spooked by the violence it took to create it?”

ERIK: A long silence settled between them, in the wake of her noncommittal response, and Erik didn’t falter in demeanor even as the cameramen and producers exchanged confused glances. Silence had a tendency to reveal truths–and there one was, plain as day in the question. Plain to the two of them, anyways.

“Many of us grew up surrounded by violence–if not from the beginning, then certainly from when our powers became clear. Whether it was experimentation, harassment, familial abuse, workplace discrimination, or something else, every single one of us has stories they can tell. And I am sorry that more violence was necessary to break us free. But we tried warnings, we tried negotiations. It is my honest opinion that we went above and beyond our obligations to try for peaceful resolution before the seige, even after they murdered a mutant hero in the middle of Central Park. The X-Men spent years trying to protect humans from threats, even at their own peril. Professor Xavier was happy to welcome students into his home whose families were either unwilling or unable to house their mutant children. We wrote op-eds, we made speeches, we penned explicit warnings that war would come if we weren’t brought to the table to help smooth things out. Instead, humans only raised the stakes.” There was only a hint of anger in his tone, most of it stubbornly crushed under the facade of careful diplomacy. Most, but not all.

“Some of the methods necessary to our win were unfortunate, I’ll freely admit. But it got people to listen, finally. And now we have our own place, where we are building the peaceful society we’ve never had the chance to live in for ourselves. I want the mutants and metahumans who watched their TV screens for that long weekend to know that I didn’t build Genosha as a victory pyre. It is not meant to be a symbol of constant war. It is meant to be for all my people what I always wanted myself–a *home. A safe haven. Nothing more or less.”

KARA: A safe haven. Kara let herself smile, despite the way her heart still hammered against her chest, how she had to remind herself to sit still. It was the message she’d wanted to get out, after all. The only thing that had pulled her out of the moment of shock following Snapper’s given assignment was the thought of ensuring the message of hope that was Genosha itself would get out.

That Erik somehow answered her unspoken question in the process of answering her actual question was unimportant.

(It still curled tightly in her chest, settled heavy on her shoulders. She still had to swallow against the nauseous feeling of it in her throat.)

The room seemed to shift around them, the tension rising in the wake of the small strain of anger in his voice. Kara remained steadfast in the center, “You built peace at the end of a war you’ve been fighting a lot longer than just one weekend. And it is peace, for any mutant or metahuman who wishes to enter.” Alien was notably absent. The tension in the room told Kara it wasn’t the time or the place to point that out. This was about Genosha. “For anyone looking to enter, what do you think day-to-day life will be like for citizens of Genosha? What can they expect in the ways of laws, economy, relations and movement between other countries?”

ERIK: The next question was expected, wasn’t a surprise, but his heartbeat ticked up in speed once, twice, thrice before he took control to slow it down, gaze and steady smile still aimed at Kara before he turned to the camera.

“In some ways, Genosha won’t be all that different from what our citizens are used to elsewhere. We have the same basic laws meant to keep the peace. We’re building small businesses, infrastructure, greenhouses for food supply–exactly what you’d expect to find in any community. Obviously, given the nature of our citizenry, we intend to have a large space in society for the use of powers and abilities. No mutant needs to be afraid to use their abilities on Genosha–if you need help learning to use them, Xavier’s Institute has been the golden standard of that sort of education for years. People will find their place in our society where their interests and skills meet, and that is on particular display in the High Council, whose names and positions I do believe I sent over. Warren Worthington is in charge of our Ministry of Commerce due to his expertise in business. Jean Grey is heading up our Ministry of Health and overseeing the construction of our healthcare system due to her medical experience. Charles Xavier is responsible for our Ministry of Education, for obvious reasons. I’ve taken great care to select an experienced and trustworthy Council to guide the direction of our growing country, and they in turn are excellent at scouting talent to best fulfill their own responsibilities.” And now to relations. The truth wasn’t something even those close to him knew, yet, but he knew the story that needed to be told. The one the world needed to hear so they wouldn’t decide Genosha was too much a threat, after all. “As for diplomatic relationships, building and maintaining good relationships with other nations is of paramount importance. We want to serve not only as a safe haven, but as an advocate for our people abroad, improving conditions for mutants and metahumans who may not wish to relocate. As I mentioned before, movement into and out of Genosha currently requires only a security check at the border. We’re working on the creation of passports and visas, so it’s possible that the border may tighten in the future, but such is the case for any country. Border security varies based on the political landscape—and we’re making a good-faith effort to be far more open than I think most new countries would be in such close proximity to one with which they recently finished a war. I want to extend my thanks to the U.S. State Department for their willingness to work on forging a positive working relationship between our nations despite the obvious rocky history.”

KARA: His heart ticked up, and Kara zeroed in on it. She watched the expressions play across his face, his smile steady but the moment between the question and his answer notable. Her fingers danced across her notebook, and she wanted to push. It was half her job, wasn’t it? Get answers. But there was a stark difference between sitting across the table from someone demanding answers for an article in print, and sitting in front of a myriad of cameras.

“That brings us to the actual layout of your government. Are you looking at a democracy, wherein officials are elected after the initial establishing of the country is done; a constitutional monarchy?” Her lips ticked up, imagining Jean with a crown. But that would mean Erik falling into a soft life somewhere, finally at peace. The race of his heart and the anger flashing through his eyes before she’d flown away from Genosha told Kara peace was still so far away for Erik Lehnsherr.

ERIK: He could see the questions burning on her tongue by the way her fingers curled around the pen and skirted across the page, as if she were mentally imagining it filling with all the answers she wanted to demand.

But she was not alone with him, for better or for worse, the both of them were on camera, and there were lines, professional and personal, that she wouldn’t cross. Not here.

“Certainly, that’s along the lines of my vision for what lies further down the line. I believe that people deserve a right to be represented by their government–something which was decidedly not the case for mutants in America, before the recent restructuring of the Accords. That’s one of the primary reasons I established the Council; of course, I could hardly be expected to do all the work on my own, but large decisions for our country are meant to be discussed by myself and relevant Council members–or for the most important decisions, amongst the entire Council. I can understand that from the outside it might look like simply delegating tasks, but my Council is meant to lay the groundwork for a deliberative body that makes decisions for our people. For purposes of ease, in these early days, I have the final say as of now, but I chose people that I trust to be honest with me, not simply tell me what I want to hear. I��m confident that the decisions we make moving forward will be what’s best for all of our people. But in short, yes: I intend for our country to eventually shift officially to a constitutional monarchy. Eventually, my hope is to abolish the monarchy entirely, but that would obviously be quite a ways in the future.”

KARA: So Jean could end up in a crown. The thought was oddly comforting, even while her heart continued to race. She wanted to do Genosha justice, ensure any mutants wishing to find peace knew there was a place for them. There were viewers who wanted to know everything, and Kara just wanted to be home. She wanted to be somewhere she couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

Her eyes dropped to her notebook, where most of the questions had already been asked. “Of course, of course, yeah. One more question, Mr. Lehnsherr, and we’ll let you get back to what I’m sure is an incredibly busy job building an entirely new country. And again, thank you for taking the time to talk with us today. It means a lot, not only to The Planet, but to so many who are looking at Genosha with so many questions, and even hope.”

She wanted to ask him to promise against violence in the future. She wanted to ask him if had any regrets. She wanted to ask him selfish things she already knew the answer to. She swallowed them down. “If you close your eyes and you imagine Genosha five, ten, fifteen years in the future, what does daily life look like, the culture, the…food, the smells? Is religion engrained in the culture? What does it look like when Genosha goes from an upstart to a home?”

ERIK: She was sitting there asking him what the future looked like, and Erik had to bite the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. That was the question, isn’t it? Erik had spent his whole life fighting for a better future, but in all honesty? He’d never expected to live to see it. He’d long ago resigned himself to the idea that this fight would kill him–that he could open the door for others, but wouldn’t make it to the other side.

But here he was, now, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He could never concede that–not to his family, not to his people, and certainly not to his enemies. He was pushing through, helping construct this new world step by step, but the final vision was still shrouded in clouds on the horizon.

( He should be dead, should’ve been in Raven’s place– )

Erik smiled at the camera and pretended that he’d ever had the optimism to sustain a dream. Pretended that the dreams he’d once had hadn’t been squashed by the people watching this broadcast, all the little humans snuggled up under their blankets at home, again and again and again. Pretended that his dreams hadn’t been massacred in Auschwitz, and burned in Vinnitsa, and killed again by a bullet in Cuba and another in Central Park a decade later. “Genosha is open to all mutants and metahumans, from all over the world. Every one of them will bring different traditions with them, a different piece of fabric in the quilt. As we grow together, new traditions should spring up, native to Genosha, to our species.” They needed to move away from human traditions. Away from humans.

“I see children who can claim a homeland rather than a host, able to play safely in our communities and learn their powers while surrounded by people who can provide the guidance they need. Genosha will be built on community for our people, not competition–all of us working for collective benefit instead of individual wins at the expense of our kin. I see my people using their gifts freely, creating new advances that will change the world. I want a city centre that showcases the best we have to offer–restaurants filling the air with the smells of their food, boutiques of creative wares, monuments commemorating our best and brightest, a government that works efficiently to meet the people’s needs as thy arise instead of being bogged down in political disagreements.”

Erik sat forward, eyes shining with earnestness. “Most importantly, I want every single resident to feel the words I’ve been pushing for years: mutant and proud. Or metahuman and proud, as the case may be,” he tacked on with a chuckle. “Regardless, I want my people to embrace their true nature, their true power. Perhaps some would paint that as a religion: I wouldn’t go that far. I am a Jewish mutant, and I am proud of it. At last our people have their freedom. And if I do my job right, we will never be afraid again.”

KARA: A small silence followed the answer. The cameras took a moment to focus on his face, and Kara tried to parse through everything he’d said. She wanted it for them. For Scott, Jean, Gabby, Lorna. A place to be happy and themselves, to grow and thrive. Again, alien was notably absent, but she pushed it aside.

This was the end, a goodbye, hopefully without the ‘see you later.’

“That sounds…wonderful. Thank you again, Mr. Lehnsherr. I’m sure you have much to do. And thank you, viewers, for joining us tonight. This has been a Daily Planet special.”

The red lights on the camera ticked off one by one, and Kara was out of her seat in an instant, almost suspiciously fast. She gave a polite ‘thank you’ and a smile, and offered her hand to shake because that’s what good reporters did. That’s what the camera crew expected of her. She made it out of the room, down the stairs, into the alley before the rolling in her stomach caught up with her and she bent over the studio dumpster.

[talesofphantombandits]

The Loyalty of a Bandit ~ Chapter One.

Summary: Solar Bandit was an Orphan since the age of Five. She now lived her life pick pocketing and stealing to make ends meet. Ryder has been there for her since before she can remember, they were tied to each other and made a packed to marry one day.  But what happens when she steals from a charming pilot in the Cantina and he changes her life forever. 

Character pairing: Poe Dameron/OC character. Warnings: probably mild language. If this chapter does well, then I’ll be writing the rest of the chapters before sharing. If you would like to be tagged let me know, I will start a tagging list <3 Enjoy. 

Solars outfit. (Source: Pintrest) ____________________________________________________________

“Where are you going?”

I walked out of my room and headed towards the door, picking up my long coat off the back of a chair as I walked past.

“Out.” I snapped.

“I swear Solar if you bring those Storm troopers to my door again, you’re out.”

I open the door but turned to look back at Frieda who was in her favourite chair slumped by the fire. This is where you’d always find her, she was the typical grumpy old women. She even had the straw grey hair that sat in a bun atop of her head. I wouldn’t say she was a guardian of sorts but she owned the little room I slept in, so she was more of a landlord. I’d been here since I was five years old when my parents were mysteriously murdered and I become an orphan.

That’s when I turned to stealing, pick pocketing you name it. I did whatever it took to survive, at least the experience had given me a hard exterior. I’d learnt to fight and protect myself. It paid to keep the roof over my head, Frieda was kind enough women but at the first opportunity to kick me out I think she would she would take it in a heartbeat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I shut the door, putting my hood up and scarf over my mouth. The streets were dusty, the sand could get everywhere imaginable but I’d learnt to cover up well. This kept the dust out and kept the harmful sun off my skin. 

I headed down the hill towards the hanger, I was hoping that Ryder would have finished repairs on the old abandoned X-Wing. The resistance was something of a mystery to us, I don’t think anyone on this planet has seen a resistance fighter. Unfortunately we’d seen way too many First Order troops. So where the X-Wing had come from was unknown, but it was exciting. 

“How’s it going Ry, any progress?” I propped myself on his cluttered desktop, however many times I’d tidied it when bored. Ryder always managed to get it to the same level of messy.  I should learn my lesson and just leave it alone, but it was something to do during evenings I spent in here while he worked on machines.

He emerged from behind the wing wiping his hands on a old rag. “Nearly finished actually, wasn’t as torn up as I thought.”

He smiled at me sweetly and walking his way over to where I’d perched. Ryder was tall, probably about 6’1. He had dusty blonde medium length hair and a toned physique. But my favourite part had always been the ocean blue eyes. I looked up as he approached and looked into them smiling at how beautiful he was. I handed him his flask that sat next to me, he stood just in front of me his thighs touching my knees. 

“Thanks Sol.” He chugged nearly the whole flask before continuing. “You going to the cantina?” He put the flask back where it belonged on the workstation then put his hand on my knee.

“Unfortunately yes, rents due soon.” I made a sad puppy face.  I didn’t like stealing from people, I always carried a wave of guilt when I did. But I also liked food, water and keeping myself alive.

He just chuckled at me, stroking my cheek. “Well be careful, I need you back to me in once piece.” He smiled, kissing the top of my head. He moved back towards the X-Wing.

I hopped down, saluting him. “Yes, Sir, You get that X-wing ready for tomorrow. I’m excited to take it out for a spin!”

“Yes ma’am. She’ll be ready for you.” I just giggled and waved to him, he just waved his rag at me.

I skipped out of the hanger making my way over the dune to the old Cantina with a smile on my face. Ryder had been my only friend for many years now, we had made a pact to get married seen as it had just been us for so long. We felt like we kind of owed it to each other to stick together seen as we’d come this far. I definitely loved him, at least I think I did.  I hadn’t really been exposed to relationships, only being around Ryder.

He was a brilliant mechanic, his talents were being wasted on this dull planet. The amount of craft he’d fixed up in record time always amazed me. He’d even let me take out the ones he’d found and fixed up, flying was an escape from this place. It was also comforting to know I could fly us out of here if we ever needed to escape. 

As I entered the cantina I stood leaning against the back wall, starting to scope the tables and stools for my first victim. This was the routine flirt a little, bat the eyelashes and when they were totally sucked in mess with them a little while taking all the precious goods they had idly left in their deep pockets. They would be none the wiser. It wasn’t anything genius or complex, I was no spy. But I had yet to be caught out, I’d had one close call in the thirteen years I’d been at it.  

I was scanning over the bar stools when a man with curly hair grabbed my attention, he had his back to me but the expensive looking leather jacket set jackpot bells off in my head.

“Bingo.”

I slowly made my way to the empty stool next to him, lowering my voice. “Is this seat taken?” I pointed down to it.

He placed his glass down, turning to look at me. To say he was a little taken a back that someone was talking to him would be a big understatement.

He was silent so I looked at him properly. Dam he was beautiful. He had a head full of curls, warm chocolate eyes and honey toned skin. I nearly turned and walked away, this man was most certainly too stunning to rob. I quickly shook my head that was nonsense I wasn’t going to start giving people special treatment just because god clearly made him his favourite. You either rob him or you live on the streets, you can’t be picky I told myself. 

“No.” He spoke finally. His voice was deep but calming. He smiled at me, I had to sit down before my legs turned to jelly. “Please, join me.”

Taking a deep breath I sat, reminding myself that I had Ryder waiting for me back at the hanger. But this guy was so hypnotising.

“What brings you here?” He ordered me a drink.

“Just got off work, I needed a pick me up. But then I saw you sitting here by yourself.” I said thanking the barman as he handed me my glass.

I turned my body in the stool so that I could face the stranger to see him better.

“How did you know I was alone?” He turned as well resting one arm on the bar, He was still smiling at me, It was almost blinding.

“Well are you here with someone?” I raised my eyebrow at him sipping on my drink I crossed one of my legs over the other. My knee rested against his thigh. 

He looked down where our bodies now barley touched and slowly said. “No.”

“Then you’re here alone.” I downed the rest of my drink while he stared at me with a mixed look of confusion and interest.

I just laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, now if I told you that I’d have to kill you.” He pointed at me with his glass in hand and took a swig.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders shuffling a little more forward. “Maybe I like putting myself in danger.” I said even lower. 

Now it was his turn to look surprised. I gauged his reaction for a second and then I just laughed, licking my lips.

“I’m joking I swear. But seriously, I’ve never seen you around here before. You look different from all the other deadbeat ass holes in this place.” I looked around the room, nothing different from most nights.

He shook his head, smirking like it was the best compliment in the world. “Just passing through.” He stated simply.

I eyed him suspiciously as he downed the rest of his drink and slammed it lightly onto the bar. I looked at the glass then back to his face to find him studying me.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He said so quietly that I almost didn’t catch it.

“I don’t think we’re quite on first name basis yet.” Both his eyebrows shot up. “You could be with the First Order for all I know, I don’t need someone like that knowing my name.” 

He laughed. “I promise you, I’m quite the opposite. What do I have to do to earn knowing your name?”

I stood up slowly, his eyes never left my face.

I was so thankful for how dark the cantina was, I’d never been this flushed during a routine thieving. I moved to stand directly in front of him, I leaned over and whispered in his ear as calm as I could.

“The next time you’re passing by. Come find me and I’ll tell you how.” I placed my hand on his arm, a wave of heat shot up to my elbow. I trailing my hand up to his shoulder. I slowly started  walked away patting him lightly before heading to the exit.

I waited until I got round the corner and out of sight before looking down at the metal object, it looked expensive. Expensive enough to pay my rent for two months. But why did I feel so bad about it? A quick thought of going back and explaining, apologising to him crossed my mind but it was only there for a brief second. But I felt a pull to this man.

I knew that I had no time to dwell on it I had to kept going, I turned down a gloomy alley way but got an instant feeling that someone was behind me.

I hadn’t even got halfway down when the feeling became intense, suddenly I was pushed face first into the wall.

“Ouch! hey! get off of me!” I wiggled but the grip they had on me was tight.

“I thought you were a good girl.”

I scrunched my face up in annoyance, it was the guy from the cantina.

“I can explain, I swear.” I tried to fight his grip so I could turn to him.

“Think were a little past that sweetheart.” He leaned into my ear.

I pushed back a little harder gathering some strength from somewhere, that or the fighting skills I had taught myself where finally kicking in. When the man stumbled a little I took the chance, kicked back making him fall to the ground.

I slumped forward down the wall but managed to get my bearings pushing myself off the wall with my hands, I started to run again. I didn’t get far though as he caught my arm, pulling me back.

This time my chest was pinned up against his, he held my arms firm behind my back.

“Tut tut.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

He started to search my person, most likely for the object. “Do you mind? You’re violating my personal space.” 

He finally found it in the pocket of my side bag. He brought it up in front of my face observing it.  “Well you violated my personal space first sweetheart.” He smirked at me. “All this over one little object.” 

I just rolled my eyes slowly and sighed. “That little object could keep me alive for two months. What would it do for you pretty boy.” 

I stared at his chest so I didn’t have to look at his eyes. He decided to ignore my comment. “You know I should be mad, but honestly I’m kind of impressed.”

My eyes shot up to his, I gave him a confused look.

“I honestly would have never noticed it missing, that’s if the guy I was giving it too hadn’t of shown up early. Low and behold it was no longer there. You were the only person who had been that close to me.” He looked over my face. “Normally I’m sharper than this.”

“Did I catch you on a off day?” I tried to pull away again but he pulled me back tighter to his chest.

He looked around us then looked back into my eyes. “I want you to come with me.”

He started to move us but I pulled him to a stop, our chests clashing again. “Go with you where. How can I trust you, I don’t even know who you are. Are you taking me to get arrested, because I promise you I’ll put up a good fight.”

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you stole from me Darling. But no I’m not taking you to the authorities.”

I grinded my jaw, he was right. I put myself in his position how the hell was I going to get out of it.

“Then where are you taking me.” I stood my ground as he tried to make me walk.

“Don’t make me do this the hard way. You’re a smart girl, I advise you to listen to me.”

He let go of me and stepped back, I stared at him confused. He was letting me decide, was I going to follow him nicely or was I going to try run. He really wasn't expecting me not to try right?  I turned to run the other way but again he was faster, grabbing my arm and then my shoulders.

“I’m sorry but you brought it upon yourself”

Brought what upon myself?

Soon his hands on my shoulders got tighter it dug into my skin, I tried to shuffle away but his grip was too tight.

I stared to loosing consciousness, taking a deep breath. The last thing I remember was falling backwards into his chest and him picking me up bridal style.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 48: To The Secret Lab!

Becoming The Mask

Stephan's footsteps echoed more loudly than usual in the base's deserted hallways. He was tempted to change his gait, to step lightly so he'd make less noise, but on the other hand it wasn't smart to sneak up on a Changeling you weren't planning to fight. Anyway, the bag of canned goods he was carrying would clank no matter how he carried it.

"Bernie? It's Stephan," he called when he neared the laboratory. The doors were standing open.

"Excellent timing, I need some fresh eyes."

Stephan gulped. He was pretty sure Bernie meant 'a new person to look over things, because fresh perspective can catch something an older, more tired perspective missed', but it was also possible the Alchemist actually needed eyeballs for something.

"There's goggles by the door," Bernie continued.

Stephan put on a set, and after a moment's thought grabbed a hairnet as well.

His hair wasn't long enough to tie back easily but it was long enough to potentially get caught on something. It felt a bit silly to put goggles over his mask, but the lab safety rules were clearly displayed by the goggle rack – goggles and close-toed shoes were mandatory for entrance. There were some modified goggles and plastic booties for use while troll-shaped.

He left the grocery bag on an empty shoe-rack. It would be out of the way there.

"I wasn't sure what your food situation was, so I brought some stuff. Canned tuna, mostly." Cans were shelf-stable and could be eaten in troll or human shape.

"Thanks, Stephan. I'm well supplied, but it was thoughtful of you." Bernie was currently human-shaped, surrounded by neatly sorted rubble and writing something on a clipboard. "Xe/xir at the moment, by the way."

"Is that with an X or with a Z?" asked Stephan, not sure if there was a significant difference, but ready to believe there could be since Bernie was bothering to bring this up.

"An X. You know, you're one of maybe five people who've ever asked me that."

"Okay. Cool. Uh, he/him for me, still."

"Got it." Bernie made a decisive last pen stroke, clicked the pen, and turned to xir guest-slash-assistant. "I've been sorting pieces, checking to see if anything's recognizable. As you can see," gesturing towards on grouping of stones, "the hooves, legs, and loincloth can mostly be identified, as can the claws," indicating another, pointier collection. "But I can't seem to find Bular's horns or face. I keep recounting the skulls from his belt and checking our video footage of him to make sure I didn't mix him up with one of them somehow."

A set of skulls, on the table in front of Bernie beside the probably-legs, were either surprisingly intact or mostly reassembled.

Stephan was suddenly, vividly reminded of his early days on the surface, sorting jigsaw puzzles with his Familiar's family. His youngest sister in particular had had a knack for seeing which edges ought to match up.

"Do I need gloves?"

"Wouldn't hurt. I haven't been using them. They don't switch over properly." Bernie crackled blue, and the tall, hefty human became a tall, hefty troll – still small compared to a Gumm-Gumm, but probably quite respectably sized for whichever group xe'd been taken from – and held up xir hands to demonstrate.

Stephan could see why Bernie might have trouble with gloves. Xir hands were bigger now, for one, which would stretch out the latex if xe carried the gloves over through the transformation rather than having different gloves on as a troll, and then xe would have to change xir gloves once they changed to human – plus, Bernie had four-digit rather than five-digit hands as a troll, so the extra glove finger would either flap loose or need to be taped down, which would also increase the odds of the gloves being damaged after shapeshifting back and forth.

It was a lot of trouble to go through when you weren't working with something caustic or reactive to the oils in human skin.

"Why are you wearing … that, though?" Stephan asked, gesturing up and down.

Bernie's lab coat had carried over between forms. It was loose on xir as a human, and now fit better. The lime green coat, with neon pink and yellow flowers printed around the hem and on the cloth-covered buttons, had looked odd on a human and even stranger on a purplish-blue troll.

"Oh, I keep a bunch of colourful ones in stock, in case I'm ever running tests on someone who's had a bad experience in a lab and doesn't like the white coats. Attempted vivisection, usually. Gets people all mixed up, conflating Mad Scientists and Evil Scientists."

Bernie shook xir head.

"Vivisection is the stupidest starting point for a xenobiological study. Surgery is complicated. Aside from risk of infection and the complications of dosing anesthesia for an unknown organism – since they'll definitely die of traumatic shock if you don't anesthetize – looking at organs only makes sense if you already know what you're supposed to be seeing."

Xe paced around the lab, gesturing with the clipboard.

"At best, you'll set yourself up for confirmation bias about any superficial parallels between the new and the known, and at worst you'll have no idea what you're looking at and kill off your test subject. I mean, I understand if it's just a thinly-veiled excuse to commit torture for the sake of torture, but as a scientist that offends me for other reasons."

"… So, why are you wearing it now?" Stephan looked around, suddenly wary. "Do you have a live test subject down here?" How restrained are they? How vengeful are they?

Bernie seemed startled at the reminder xe was having a conversation rather than talking to xirself.

"Oh – no, I just got bored of how monochromatic the base is. Plus changing how I'm dressed helps keep the days from blurring together."

"Ah."

Stephan made a mental note to visit more often.

He started looking through the shattered remains. He didn't shapeshift. Stephan had a lot of protruding teeth in troll form, not just tusks, and it could be a challenge not to drool on things. His mask would catch some of it if he kept it on, but then he's be stuck in a slimy mask when he changed back.

He picked up each stone, one by one, and turned it this way and that. Sometimes he found an identifiable feature – an elbow spur, a shoulder ridge – and pointed it out to Bernie. That got part of one arm put back together, or maybe a smaller percentage of both arms. If Stephan didn't find anything distinct, he would carefully put the stone back exactly where Bernie'd had it before, and move on to the next one.

"It's weird that his swords aren't here," said Stephan after a while.

"He could've been disarmed in the fight."

"Yeah, but then Stricklander would've brought the swords back along with the body. And if they'd turned to stone with him, there should be – some sheets, or plates, or something. Flat rocks matching up to the blades. Those things were huge."

Unless …

"Unless the Trollhunter took them, after killing him," Stephan said slowly. "You know, battle trophies." His eyes were drawn to the row of skulls Bular had worn to show off his own battle prowess. "Hunting trophies … What if the reason we can't find his head, is because the Trollhunter has it?"

"Well, that would probably narrow down the cause of death to decapitation," said Bernie, in a detached, academic sort of tone. "Although that can also be done post-mortem, it would be more difficult to remove an intact head, since the stone is more brittle once it dies."

"Which could explain the state of the rest of the body." Stephan shuddered. Gunmar was going to be so angry …

+=+

After two searches through Bular's remains, Stephan could barely tell the stones apart anymore. It looked like there should be more than enough to rebuild Bular, but jigsaws always looked bigger than they were when the pieces were all spread out, and Stephan and Bernie still couldn't find Bular's head.

Stephan was leaning on his 'hunting trophy' theory. There had to be a reason their greatest enemy was called the Trollhunter, right?

Something beeped. Stephan, more tightly wound than he'd realized, jumped and turned trollish in a flash of silver.

He was dark grey, as a troll, with a crown of stubby lighter grey horns instead of hair. His mask got pushed away from his face by his overlong teeth. His goggles clattered to the floor. His ears went back at the additional noise.

"It's okay, Stephan," said Bernie, gently, as though to a spooked animal. "That just means it's break time. Come on." Bernie reached out as though to pat Stephan on the arm, though they were on opposite sides of the room. "I'm going to meditate. I'd rather not leave you alone in the lab, no offence."

Stephan blinked a few times and tried breathing slow and deep, to settle his heart rate.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go."

Both of them changed to human form as they left the laboratory. Bernie sealed the blast doors and herded Stephan to the next floor up, to a small square room with a gramophone in the center and low white benches around the walls.

Stephan picked the bench opposite Bernie's, both Changelings with their sides to the door.

The record was moving slowly, though the needle wasn't touching it and neither Changeling had wound the crank on the side.

Bernie seemed entirely at ease, waiting, listening for the Pale Lady's voice.

Stephan tried to let go of the resentment that kept bubbling up inside him.

For all Bernie had seemed to be lonely and pining for conversation when Stephan first arrived, xe certainly didn't seem to need Stephan around anymore. Stephan had hardly proven his mettle with how he'd overreacted to a harmless alarm. Helping with the 'rebuild Bular' project was the one thing Stephan could do for the Order right now, and he had barely contributed.

He didn't know how to help.

He just wanted to help.

Please … he begged Morgana in his mind. My Queen. Your Ladyship. Mother. Tell me what you need of me. Let me know how I can help you.

A side compartment of the gramophone table opened. A drawer slid out.

Both Changelings got up and leaned in to look without touching anything.

The drawer held an orange crystal, faintly glowing. The room hadn't changed temperature or décor, but somehow felt more comfortable. Bernie got out a pen and touched the crystal with the button end. Nothing happened.

"Is this …" for us? Stephan couldn't quite say out loud. "Are we supposed to take it? Do something with it?"

"I think it's Heartstone." Bernie touched it with a pinkie finger this time. Again, nothing appeared to happen.

Stephan backed off and sat back down. Heartstone? Really? Here? How? That stuff was legendary. He'd only half-believed it was real.

Bernie turned trollish and touched the stone with xir last finger, to no visible effect, and then picked it up. The drawer closed itself and the compartment shut over it.

Bernie held the crystal out to Stephan and urged, "Touch it."

Stephan got up and followed Bernie's lead, transforming and tapping the crystal cautiously with one finger. He staggered back and sat again.

"Whoa."

If Heartstone was a thing, that was definitely what this thing was. Stephan had been overloaded with a sense of safety and contentment. It was actually kind of scary to think about once he wasn't touching it anymore – he would have let his guard down entirely to bask in whatever the stone was radiating.

Maybe it was actually some kind of trap?

Except a trap – if it was a lotus-eater type trap – the trap would logically drain his energy, and Stephan felt invigorated. He wanted to do something. He felt like he could do anything.

"It's supposed to enhance a troll's life force, somehow," said Bernie, waving vaguely with xir free hand. "Possibly like how reptiles need warmth to regulate their metabolism, or how humans need sunlight to produce Vitamin D. Or it could just be a stimulant."

"I heard Lord Gunmar was born from the first one," said Stephan. "Maybe that was a metaphor and trolls need … Heartstone radiation … to be fertile? That would explain why we aren't."

'We' meaning 'Changelings'. Although, if Stephan was right, maybe that meant Changelings could … become fertile? Probably not from a brief touch of a small stone, but, in the future, with regular contact?

Bernie was still holding it.

"If it feeds trolls, maybe it eats them as well," xe speculated. "Feeding troll remains into it could make it grow. Like how plants do best if there's decaying animal matter in the soil."

Stephan nodded. He'd skimmed an article in a gardening magazine a while back about using blood meal to grow better roses.

"There's some connection, I don't know what exactly, but I know it's there." Bernie turned the stone over with a thoughtful expression. "I wish I had more to experiment with. Ideally five. A control group with nothing, of course, one fed with analogous minerals that weren't sourced from a troll, one fed with Changeling dust –"

"You have –? What am I saying, of course you do."

"– one with Grave Sand, and one with Bular's remains."

Wait, what?

"I don't know if Otto would like that."

"That experiment would have to wait until after the autopsy," said Bernie, reminded once more that xe wasn't just talking to xirself.

"… Do you think it could bring him back to life?"

"Unlikely but possible."

Stephan had never encountered the undead, to his knowledge, but he made a point of bringing garlic-rich food into work at the crematorium, and keeping a box of salt in his desk. (He'd read somewhere that, if a zombie tasted salt, they would remember they were dead, go back into their grave, and resist further attempts to summon them.) He probably wouldn't have much to worry about in his troll form, but his coworkers did not share this advantage.

"You know," said Bernie, "if this is emitting anything, I could probably adjust a Geiger counter to pick up on it. Let's get it back to the lab."

+=+

Bernie's first step was to scan the Heartstone with every instrument the Janus Order had and record its exact dimensions. Stephan was more of a witness than an assistant for that part.

He felt much more useful during the Geiger counter modifications. Bernie needed an extra pair of hands for some steps, and neither of them were a troll type with more than two arms. Stephan did have a prehensile tail, but it had broken a few times back in the Darklands and he couldn't flex it very well anymore to deal with things in front of him.

The alterations to the machine were more magic than tech. Bernie opened up a few sections and moved things around, extracting wires and inserting crystals and writing tiny cramped symbols here and there. Stephan held things out of the way that weren't being fully removed, and balanced pieces while Bernie attached them, and moved the Heartstone around the room for Bernie to recalibrate various settings.

Bernie put in something like a compass below the dial, so the holder couldn't only see how strong and close the Heartstone's readings were, but also which direction it was in. The compass was a sphere of rutilated quartz, with the gold-coloured acicular inclusions all going the same way. The sphere's mounting let it indicate directions in three dimensions.

It took four tries and six hours to cobble together a working model. Short-range only. Despite the Heartstone's properties, which did not seem to fade after prolonged contact, Stephan was barely keeping his eyes open.

n a surprising show of trust, Bernie let him nap in the apartment connected to the lab while Bernie typed up a report on today's findings.

Well, maybe it wasn't so surprising. Stephan, asleep, would be in a far more vulnerable position than Bernie would be from allowing another Changeling unsupervised in xir private space. If Stephan tried to leave some sort of trap, or go snooping while tired and set off a trap Bernie had left, well …

Bernie was also the Changeling primarily in charge of making any poisons the local Janus Order branch couldn't get through human channels. Stephan taking advantage of Bernie's trust would end far worse for him then it would for xir.

In any case, Stephan accepted the risk and took the nap, not wanting to drive home while tired. Bernie woke him half an hour later, and they went together to return the Heartstone piece to the gramophone room and to drop off a report in Otto's office.

Stephan carried the Geiger counter so Bernie could get a better idea of its range. It lost track of the Heartstone piece once they were most of the way down the hall. Bernie's hands were occupied with paperwork and a set of lockpicks. It was funny to see lockpicks carried so openly.

"Do you often break into the offices?" asked Stephan.

"I'm nearly certain I've been in every room of this base at least once."

"Recently?"

"I have been living down here. It's in my interests to double-check the security systems."

Stephan kept his eyes from rolling too obviously, but felt his mouth twitch in a small, brief grin.

When Otto's door opened, the Geiger counter – Bernie said xe was going to rename it, xe just hadn't yet – began beeping up a storm. The Changelings looked at each other and followed the compass needle to a bookcase, then a specific shelf, and finally behind a book.

"Well," said Bernie, "now I can double-check all my readings. I'll have to revise my report."

"How many more Heartstones are hidden around the base?" Stephan wondered.

"We should do a sweep. It'll probably take a couple of days. When do you have to leave and when can you next be here?"

"I have this week off. I can stay until," Stephan checked the date on his phone, "nine tomorrow evening before I'm expected anywhere." He and some work friends were planning to go to a bar for trivia night.

"Alright. We'll head back to the lab and you can take another nap while I do the scans and report revisions, and once you're awake we can sort out the order of the sweep."

"I should be good to go for –"

"You can't collect accurate data while sleep deprived."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"I woke up about ten minutes before you got here."

That explained why the laboratory had smelled of coffee.

+=+

Previous Chapter (Shattered King backstory, as commemorated by the Quagawumps)

Table Of Contents

Next Chapter (Jim gets Gunmar's Eye)

[tarithenurse]

Agent of Hope - 27

Your world falls into ruin together with the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcements Logistics Division when you find out that your boyfriend isn’t one of the good guys. Pairing: Brock Rumlow x fem!reader, Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader Contents: Errors (trying to stay awake to switch to night shifts), pain, detailed violence, quite nasty hints, angst, fluff, sadness, basically everything horrible you can imagine. A/N: You’ll find the previous chapters through my masterlist. Lots of love for liking and reblogging!!

27 - Kick Ass and chew Bubble Gum

It’s a tension at the back of your knees. It’s muscles itching to work overtime – fight or flight. It’s a sour taste at the back of your mouth at the point where no amount of water can wash it away. Still it doesn’t matter because what you’re doing, your mission of sorts, is going to be worth everything.

It’s taken much too long to get to this point where your walking up the dusty lane towards an inconspicuous house in the outskirt of…where’s this again? Somewhere in Sierra Leone. You had known, memorized the town’s name as well as anything else. Memorized the plan. Now, however, it’s replaced by a memory of something that hasn’t even happened yet, making your skin crawl as cold shivers run down the spine. Red sand clings to the boots (much too warm for the temperature). Like blood.

“Something nice…” you mumble, grasping at a flicker spark of joy before it’s swallowed, “…something nice…”

Red like fiery hair. And suddenly, it’s possible to recognize the blue of the sky in the teasing sparkle of a pair of grey eyes capable of looking into your very soul, making you feel safe and at home. The churning lead in your guts lessens. Now you can let the shoulders sink and even look up towards the goal: a heavy door painted green behind which Rumlow waits.

 …   Rumlow   …

Every single note and stick-figure drawing Brock has received from [Y/N] is kept in a tin as evidence. At first her replies had been brief, hesitant in the wording and quite confrontational…but that was to be expected. She has still to admit her feelings for him, but it’s obvious as the communication extends how she recognizes the true nature of the Avengers. Why spend resources on catching someone, when they are willing to come on their own.

Brock isn’t a fool. Far from. There’s always the risk of a double-cross, his own plan mirrored to out him or more of Hydra. And regardless of the reasoning for [Y/N] to come today, she will have to be processed and vetted before he will allow himself to trust her. But it will be much easier this time.

Watching the screen, the ex boyfriend sees the hesitation melt away from the figure to be replaced with resolution. Come to me, baby. All the other screens show…nothing. No, would-be heroes. No pesky Mister Rogers with a shield and the American flag so far up his ass that he can’t relax. No red-head traitor. All alone? It’s hard to believe, so Brock doesn’t, flicking a switch instead that light a tiny, orange diode in the two free-rooms, as the team have started calling the scan-blocking basement sections. On your marks.

There’s a muted sound of footsteps outside preceding the knocking on the door. Twice, a pause, and once. Good girl.

He’s smiling as he unlocks and pulls the door aside just a crack to see the nervousness on [Y/N]’s face, but it’s not enough to drown the stubborn set of the jaw or the air of…excitement? Eager to come home?

“What’s a girl like ya doin’ in a place like this…?” Such a cliché, but it rolls off Brock’s tongue with a neat drawl.

The hint of an eyeroll also hints at times passed. “Girl’s just wanna have fun. Nice decoy to free me up from ‘em.”

Them. Not Natasha or Steve or whatever. “Only the best for ya, as always.” She has said the password but hesitates to enter when Brock opens the door fully. “C’m’on in, babe.”

“How long we got?”

“They’re smart, but th’ain’t that smart…I’ll guess an hour.” There’s a tickle of something he can’t place in the woman’s smile. “The cool air’s escaping, get it.”

Like in a dream, she really does step over the threshold, carefully keeping a bit of distance between them. I should’ve expected that. It still gnaws inside Brock, tugs at the side of him that needs the bitch to understand, to accept her place. But he bites it back. All the anger and possessiveness is shoved deep down somewhere dark because he knows he’ll bring her to her senses. Soon.

Brock casts a brief glance to a screen out of the girl’s view showing a mix of live feeds from local and global news stations, a few of them covering the draught and the lack of safe drinking water while the majority heralds the wedding of some celebrity. No breaking news. It’s not typical of the Avengers to work quietly, especially not if the glorified tin can is flying around blasting rock music. Well…at least one of those idiots has style. Haven’t they taken the bait?

“All alone?” There’s an air of something studied mixing with the playful tone. “I’d half begun to think I was –“

“Shut up.” Thankfully, [Y/N] does as told, body ripe with fear to the point where he almost can smell it. “Why’re ya here? Really?”

“Really?” Perfect confusion. Innocence. “’Cause we’re not over yet, Brock.”

Something beeps from the console of screens and the hydra agent is about to turn to see what has caused the alarm to go off when [Y/N] reaches for him. Such a simple gesture, still it sparks an old habit in the man and he takes the hand in his for a long second – one he would wish could last forever. But he has to let go, hand slightly sticky from her sweaty touch. Another alarm begins, and he can hear the sound of the agents in the free-rooms banging on the doors though an oceans rush in his head. The world sways, unfocused. What the fuck? Oh, yeah, there comes the sea sickness even if he hasn’t felt it since he was a kid.

“You know,” [Y/N] softly whispers from far away into his ear, “when I said we’re not over…” She has a stronger grip than expect on his arm and shoulder, somehow forcing him on his knees. “I should’ve said I’m not done with you, Rumlow.”

The world might be reduced to a stormy sea, but he can still feel the nauseating pain as the shoulder dislocates. I’ve had…worse. That much is true. It’s not even the pain, really, making him sick to the stomach, rather the knowledge of what [Y/N] wants to get even for.

“[Y/N],” he slurs, the tongue too thick in the mouth, “I-I-I…lllo’ ya…” That lands his face pressed onto the dirty floor at an uncomfortable angle. She’s…holding my ass…

“No, Rumlow, you don’t love.” There’s a sound of metal against metal. “Let me demonstrate what you do.”

 …   Romanoff   …

“Damn, sweetie…”

Even Nat is impressed, and slightly grossed out, at the creativity her girlfriend has shown. So much so, she almost feels sorry for Rumlow who’s passed out on the floor in a sticky pool of almost every bodily liquid of his own. Well if almost means not at all.

Sam had taken one look and then gone outside to hurl, and even Thor looks shocked. “My lady, your enemies will surely know not to stir your wrath from this day forth.”

“My track record with coping mechanisms isn’t great…so…” Tony can’t look at it either, but at least he hasn’t lost the bad humour. “Let me know if’t works, ‘kay?”

“Oh, it feels very…cathartic…” [Y/N] looks at the guy with a distanced calmed.

Too calm. Cathartic or not, this will undoubtedly have consequences both legally and emotionally for Rumlow’s former prisoner. None of it can be explained away as self defense. It can’t be by the time the person is face down, ass up, and the metal sheathed where the sun don’t shine.

“I’m gonna take her to the quinjet, you guys stabilize him and see if he can talk…ever…”

And so Natasha leaves the men behind, steering a dazed woman by the arm across the uneven terrain through a patch of dried out shrubs behind which the plane is waiting.

Once onboard, she observes the mechanic reactions as [Y/N] complies with every order without uttering a single word. Come back to me, baby. The former assassin can only hope that the words reach far enough, somehow breaking through the shell her girlfriend’s mind has build in record time to prevent any of the grotesque happenings from settling. Eventually the good advice of reason are spent, leaving nothing behind but an insufferable ache.

You were doing so well, why did I let you go? “I’m sorry, love,” Nat whispers hoarsely, fingers stroking the blank face, “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been here. It’s my fault, please come back. You can get through this too, alright?”

On and on, the pleas dripple out similar to a hushed prayer that knows no end. The tears falling aren’t [Y/N]’s this time because for once Natasha can’t be the strong one. Kneeling before [Y/N], she wraps her arms around the living statue’s waist and buries the face in the heat of the soft breasts where she can hear the heartbeat. Slow and steady as opposed to Nat’s own that beats so frantically, she couldn’t hold her hands still if she tried.

Some things change the very foundation of a person.

In the Red Room, the girls were taught not to show mercy, to follow orders unblinkingly even if it meant the death of an other. Though the first fatalities weren’t at the students’ own hands, they knew what the consequences were once they forced another child to give up or be flunked. The changed had already started. By the time a girl graduated, became an adult though never a woman, the transformation was completed. It was expected. A flinch. A faint taste of regret in the dark of night. Nothing more.

Outside the Red Room, for people growing up in normal lives, only a low percentage of people are prepared for the Graduation, and most of those never have to complete the change themselves. For the lucky ones, violence and unnatural death will not become a habit of theirs.

[Y/N] had been one of the lucky ones until the day Hydra captured her, placing her at the mercy of Rumlow. Her change had been forced upon her, nearly killing her in the process. Perhaps Natasha, the team, even the victim herself had been fools for thinking she would be alright and the metamorphosis never would be complete. My fault. Today had been Graduation, and the ex-Russian brought the student to the test.

“Shhh,” gentle and soothing against red hair, “It’s okay, Tash, I’m here…it’ll be okay.” Gentle fingers cart through the fiery strands, nails scraping against the scalp in a calm rhythm. “I know what I did…I’ll never do it again.”

They’re both crying as they lock gazes.

“Do you know that?” Be honest. “Have you seen it?”

“This is the first time you ask me what I’ve seen.” The smile is gentle and almost reaches the [Y/E/C] eyes. “I have to continue therapy, but yeah…never again.” Soft lips kiss the salty water away from the upturned face. “I’m all yours now.”

 …   Reader   …

Of course the clock isn’t ticking. After ages of therapy, you should be used to that…instead it makes the silence way heavier than strictly necessary. Or maybe it’s because this session is so important? Double session, actually. Pinching your brows, you manage to divert the attention from the missing tick-tock to the bit of dirt under a nail as you wait for the team consisting of a psychiatrist and a psychologist to ask the question they want to. It’s silly really. Anyone can rehearse an answer fitting with the “need”.

“So, how are you feeling, [Y/N]?” one of them final begins, glasses dangling from between to fingers and a pen in the other hand.

You take a moment, do a mini body scan. “Right now I’m nervous…” They both nod at your answer. “Generally speaking…pretty good. Still get the odd nightmare where it’s like I’m back.”

“Back?”

“M-hm.”

They want you to define the term, but it’s fun to see them try to be correct and direct at the same time. “To when Rumlow first held you against your will or…?”

“Or when I took revenge? Both.” You give them time to scribble ferociously before continuing, “I don’t think there’s some specific reason it’s one situation instead of the other…not always at least. And the technique to guide myself away from the nightmare is beginning to work a bit.”

The glasses are pulled down again, so the Psychologist can look at you directly. “Is there a difference in the intensity?”

“No. Both…events were horrible. For different reasons, sure, but horrible. What I did…” Both doctors hold their breaths as you ponder your words. “There’s an explanation for it…but no excuse. I know that.”

With all the nodding they’re doing, it seems only fair if they get a kink in the neck eventually. Sometimes the bobble-heads ask more questions, about the house arrest in the tower or your relationship with the Avengers. They never once get into specific about Natasha and you, although it’s there like some elephant in the room. Even professionals can have issues.

By the time the two hours are up, you’ve got them smiling genuinely. Perhaps, maybe, if you’re lucky…will they clear you?

…

“Who sends letters nowadays?” Tony scoffs, dumping a big, brown envelope on the newspaper you’re reading.

Justice Department! It’s damn near impossible to tear open the thick paper because your hands a shaking so much, and when you finally do, the words barely make any sense, so you don’t protest when the genius billionaire snags it out of your hands.

It feels like forever, longer than the months you’ve waited to hear what the psychiatrist’s and psychologist’s decision is, before Tony finally looks up. “Jarvis!”

“Yes, sir.”

You can’t read his face, allowing the nerves to run amok. “Call the team, Pepper, and Happy.”

“May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Yeah.” Finally, his face splits into a huge smile. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

[solaneceae]

EGOTOBER DAY 4 - Jacket

It all started with a jacket.

It wasn’t even anything special. If anything, it was quite pathetic-looking: a ratty, washed out denim jacket, torn up and stitched back together more times than any of them could count.

“It barely has any thermal protection, Chase!” Schneep kept saying, always the practical one.

Despite all that, it was Chase’s favourite. He wore it through thick and thin, even when the cold wind of early spring sneaked through the holes and making him shiver. Even when his brothers advised him to just replace it. 

Until the day it tore up again, one time too many.

The tear was massive; right in the middle of the back, almost running through the entire length of the denim. Stitching could only do so much for a jacket who’s threads barely held on anymore.

“You’re sure you can’t fix it?” Chase pleaded. Marvin rubbed his arm uncomfortably. All the egos suspected the article must’ve been a gift from his former family before… well.

“I can mend the threads back together,” he explained in an apologetic tone, “but they’ve been stretched so thin they’d just break within a few days.”

The magician felt useless, and that was basically his least favourite thing to feel; why did everyone keep coming to him with the FEW problems he couldn’t solve with magic?!

That’s when Anti, who’d been enjoying the peace of the living room until the vlogger came whining, lost his patience and lashed out. As he always did.

“Get over it, Brody. It’s just a dumb jacket. Just get a new one.”

Chase’s face fell even more, his chesnut-colored eyes glazing over. One could’ve heard a pin drop in the heavy silence that settled then.

“Anti.”  Marvin hissed at the glitch, green eyes glaring daggers. “What the actual fuck was that.”

JJ was frantically signing in the corner of his eye. Anti ignored him, and sneered at his rival. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

“There are more delicate ways to say it!”

“Oh, so what, I’m supposed to baby him like you all do? It’s been years, ever heard of moving on?”

“That’s not-”

ENOUGH.

The whole room froze, the temperature suddenly dropping. A shiver ran down Anti’s spine as he slowly turned to face the local mute. He… wow, okay. He looked downright enraged.

See, here’s the thing: JJ usually spoke with his hands, occasionally mouthing his words for more clarity. But the dapper man possessed another, less uh, conventional way of communicating. As Marvin had explained once -well, more like attempted to, that fraud didn’t know shit about this stuff-, Jameson could project what he wants to say directly into people’s awareness with more or less force. It wasn’t telepathy, as the targets didn’t “hear” his nonexistent voice in their head, it was more of a... direct transmission of meaning and intent.

In any case, this wasn’t something the mute enjoyed talking about, and Anti could count the number of times he’d used it on a single hand. If the current situation had warranted it... well, it couldn’t be good.

JJ briskly walked up to Chase and pointed at the jacket. “Please give it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Oh, so back to signing it was.

“U-um-” Chase stammered, still wide-eyed and tense by JJ’s previous outburst. The younger ego’s features softened, and he gently grabbed the vlogger’s shoulder. “Trust me.”

Chase stayed silent for a few seconds then nodded, passing the ruined piece of clothing to JJ, who draped it over his left arm before turning to the glitch.

“Anti, a word.”

Said glitch didn’t have time to process the words before the smaller ego grabbed him by the arm, pulled him off the couch and dragged him outside, slamming the door closed in his wake. Anti wasn’t sure why he let the other manhandle him like this, but it might have something to do with the fact that he’d never seen the mild-mannered Jameson Jackson so… visibly pissed. The guy was more of a silent rage type. 

Not gonna lie, he was curious. And, for reasons he didn’t want to delve into, a bit uneasy.

JJ finally stopped walking, letting go of his arm and turning towards him. “Do you know what today is.” the shorter man signed angrily. 

Anti frowned. “What the fuck does it have to do with-”

QUIET.

The demon’s words died on his tongue. Jameson had done the thing again; two times in one day, that was new. The blue-haired ego was glaring up at him, his dark grey eyes burning holes into his skull and pulling at something inside of him. It pulled and pulled, and Anti could feel himself slipping deeper and deeper into the inky darkness those eyes had become it was spreading and enveloping him and his body felt light and airy and he could almost reach out to the wisps of light coming into focus and he was burning and freezing and pulsing like a neutron star further and further and closer and closer to the edge of everything-

Then JJ closed his eyes and Anti felt himself snap back into his own body, dizzy and gasping for air. He could feel goosebumps prickling all over his arms and down his spine, feel the thrumming energy boiling under his brother’s skin. 

Cold. Restained. Drawing him in a gaping hole in the fabric of reality, one you couldn’t see the bottom of. So similar, yet so unlike his own glitching powers.

The demon found his footing again as Jameson let out a pained grunt, his fingers tracing soothing lines against his forehead. He looked about as rattled as Anti felt right now. Said glitch had no idea what had just happened; hell, he had no idea what JJ was, truly. But he was aware he was dangerous, had been for a while now. He’d just never experienced whatever JJ had been talking about, until now.

He remembered the dapper man telling him about the... incident. Something about accidentally becoming entangled with the universe’s timestream, back when he used to mess around with this stupid time-warping pocket watch of his. 

Or some shit like that. The details always became fuzzy whenever he tried to think about it.

It was funny, in a messed up way. Under the carefree attitude, the silly old-timey attires and fancy parlé, Jameson was the only ego who could inspire true fear in him. The dapper, monocle-wearing gentleman was by far -and it physically hurt him to admit it- the most powerful entity he’s ever met. Ridiculous, right? But now, Anti suspected they guy could very well hold his ground against Dark himself. Holy shit, he realized with a dizzying mix of horror and awe, it wouldn’t even be close.

And no-one, in his family or off at Dark’s manor, had any fucking clue. No-one, except for himself. This was their secret. Their deal.

JJ took a grounding breath; the cool flow of energy receded, before disappearing from Anti’s awareness. He re-opened his eyes; the usual dark grey. Perfectly ordinary. Misleading. 

“Apologies,” his hands spoke as he sighed. They were moving more sedately than before. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Do. You know. What today is.”

Anti nodded, slowly. “April 10th. You-”

“That means,” the other interrupted, “tomorrow is April 11th. Do you understand what this means, or are you that far up your own ass?”

Now, if this had been anyone else speaking to him that way, Anti would’ve smashed their head into the ground by now. But, contrary to popular belief, he valued his life. So he swallowed his pride and made a notable effort.

It clicked after about ten seconds.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed. Now you see why Marvin didn’t care for your insensitive comments.”

Anti barely caught himself before he could blurt out that this sorry excuse for a magician got offended at everything that came out of his mouth anyway, and pondered the situation.

Tomorrow was… what was the negative version of an anniversary? Tomorrow was the suckiversary of the day Chase’s wife had taken his kids away from him. Honestly, Anti should’ve picked up on the signs; the guy got really withdrawn at this time of year, locking himself in his room for hours on end, barely getting up to eat or take care of his basic needs. The first few years had been the hardest; one time, Robbie had found the fatherly ego passed out drunk on the kitchen floor, barely scabbed cuts all over his arms and legs. Kid had nightmares for weeks after that.

He’d been doing better lately. But it was still pretty rough.

Anti scowled. “So, what about it? What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“What you are going to do, is help me fix this.” JJ started, gently tapping on the blue jacket draped over his left arm.

“What, this old thing?”

“Why, yes. You like swinging that knife around, cutting things, don’t you? What I planned is right up your alley.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Whatever. No like I got anything better to do.”

“I figured you didn’t. You will also apologize to Chase.”

Anti blinked in surprise, then let out a high-pitched “HA!”, smirking down at Jameson. “Like hell I will.”

The gentleman tilted his head at his refusal, his eyes lighting up mischievously. Anti didn’t know what was going through that head, but he didn’t like it.

“Ah, I’m afraid it’s an all-or-nothing kind of deal. A shame.” JJ shrugged. “Oh well, guess I’ll have to ask Wilford to come and help me.”

That cunning little shit.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Anti growled, static flickering in and out of existence around his body. “I don’t want that psychotic bubblegum bitch anywhere near this house, you hear me?!”

That was another of James’ mysteries; he was the only one -save for the emo at the head of the Iplier household- that could somehow get the trigger-happy ego to do what he asked without killing anyone. Most of the time.

Maybe it was the mustache. He’d believe anything at this point.

Looked like he had no choice. “Let me guess.” he laughed, low and bitter. “I have to mean it?”

“No.”

The demon blinked at him, stunned. That wasn’t the answer he expected.

“No,” the younger ego repeated, “because you don’t believe you’ve said anything wrong. That won’t change, not now at least, and we don’t have time to go over your severe lack of empathy at the moment.”

“Why you-”

“However, Chase is hurting and in need of our support. No matter how… insincere it might be for some of us. You and him might not see eye to eye, but he’ll appreciate the gesture nonetheless.”

Anti glared at the floor, fists clenched. His sharp nails were digging into his palms; the pain felt nice and grounding. “And how, pray tell, do you know that? You just said it yourself, we don’t get along.”

“Because your words hurt him.”

The glitch’s head snapped up, staring at JJ. His brother wore a bittersweet expression. “Chase isn’t the kind of man to be affected by what strangers think.” he signed softly. “Do you truly believe that Chase doesn’t care about what you think of him? Do you truly believe...”

Chase pestering him. Chase telling him about his stupid brats. Chase’s disappointed face when the demon refused to give him the time of day. Chase yelling at him whenever he disappeared for a few days at a time.

“...that Chase doesn’t care about you?”

Silence. After a nondescript amount of time, the static quieted down before slowly fading away. Anti groaned and rubbed his hands against his face. What a headache. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine, I’ll fucking apologize if it’ll make that crybaby happy.”

“Good. Then we can begin.”

The glitch looked up. “What, like right now?”

“Quite. We must finish before tomorrow morning. You’re the closest to Chase in terms of height, so I’ll need to take your measurements. Let’s see, I should get more fabric from Marvin…”

“Not to insult your sewing skills or whatever, but didn’t the others say that stitching it back up wouldn’t work?”

“I’m not trying to.”

JJ’s eyes shone with determination, a conspiratory smile on his lips. “I can do  better.”

***

Chase’s gaze kept jumping up and down. He stared at the bundle in his arms, then back at JJ’s smiling face. Back to his lap, back to Jay. The day had started the usual way. Wake up feeling like crap, debating crawling back under the covers until the sun burned out and swallowed them all, then get up anyway because he wanted to show his family he was still alive.

But something had thrown a wrench into his usual plans -heh, plans. Like feeling like a useless husk of a human being and laying around all day qualified as plans.

Jameson had marched into the kitchen as he unenthusiastically made himself a cup of that ol’ dirty bean water, gently grabbed his arms and led him to the living room while he was still confused about this whole endeavour.

Then he had made him sit on the couch and shoved a bunch of fabric in his lap.

Well, no, that wasn’t totally accurate, he realized as he held up the thing in front of him. Patches of light and dark blue, soft yellows, all neatly stitched together. A jacket. A rather cool-looking one at that. Handmade too, if his younger brother’s familiar stitching pattern was any indication. But that wasn’t what had grabbed his attention.

“Jay… is that-”

“We couldn’t fix it, Chase.”

The dad tilted his head, confused. JJ was smiling sadly. “I do apologize for that. But as you can see, we managed to save most of the original fabric, to incorporate it into this one.”

The gentleman’s hands stilled, hesitant. He was visibly looking for the right signs. “Think of it as... the sum of the best parts of your life. Both your past and your present, here, with us.”

His vision was blurring. He choked on a sob, hand flying up to muffle the sounds threatening to spill out of his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

Chase looked up, brown eyes shining with unshed tears. A small, but sincere smile lighting up his tired features. “I- I love it. I t-think this is your best work yet.”

JJ positively glowed at the compliment. “Why, thank you. But I wouldn’t dare to hoard all the credit, it was a team effort after all.”

“It was?”

“Indeed. Anti helped me out.”

“Anti…?”

“Ya called?”

Chase startled, eyes widening; the demon had glitched right next to Jameson, an odd expression on his face. It was like he was trying to look both aloof and annoyed, which usually meant he was conflicted about something. The vlogger swallowed thickly. “Anti, you-”

“Brody, I need you to shut up and listen closely, cuz I’m only gonna say it once.”

Chase closed his mouth and nodded. The glitch didn’t look angry at him for once, just… uncomfortable for some reason. He watched as Anti crossed his arms and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

The dad just stared. Whatever he was expecting to happen, it wasn’t this. Anti never apologized for anything, especially not to him. Heck, sometimes he wondered if the demon was allergic to his very presence or something.

“There. I said the wrong shit at the wrong time, and while I stand by what I said about moving on-”

“Anti.”

“I’m not done, James. What I’m trying to say is-”

He green-haired ego groaned, scratching at the back of his skull. What the fuck was he doing. “I. Didn’t. Want. To hurt you, or whatever. But I did, apparently. So, I’m sorry about that part.”

He turned around to glance at JJ as Chase just kept blinking like an idiot. The smaller man nodded in approval, and Anti relaxed. There, he said it. Now he could put this whole dumb shit behind him and go scream into the void or-

His train of thought was interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm and pulling him down. He let out a startled -and offended- yelp as Chase circled his arm around him and pulled him tightly against his side. Oh, okay, that was a thing they were doing now. Hug. Right. Guess this was his life now.

JJ smiled fondly as Chase squeezed him against his other side, crying happy tears while Anti looked like he wanted to jump through a window. To the dapper man’s pleasant surprise, the demon stayed put and let the local rad dad indulge in his own special brand of affection.

Well. This was a success if he ever saw one. Their little dysfunctional family still had a lot to work through, but they’d get there eventually. Hopefully.

----------

...

GUYS GUYS I CAN EXPLAIN-

okay no scratch that, i cant. this was supposed to be a short (ITS SEVEN PAGES LONG NOW I CRAVE DEATH) and sweet piece about jj making a new jacket for the rad sad dad, and now he’s some sort of Bad Wolf-like, uber powerful cosmic entity who could kick everyone’s ass if he felt like it??? WHAT????

My brain did a big brain move or something, i dont know. well, JJ’s abilities are actually  destructive as hell, he almost pulled anti from reality and into the Void there. so it’s not like he’d ever use them voluntarily. It’s more of a curse really.

god this one is all over the place, i’m sorry. I don’t even know if this whole cosmic thing will have any relevance at all in the future, i just let my monkey brain take over when i write. hope you like it anyway?

@tabbynerdicat @egopocalypse @humblecacti @awkward-bullshit (sun! sunshine boyo is here! though you’d like it, maybe)

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 06: FATE OF THE GODS

QUEST SUMMARY:

The gods have returned to Gielinor, but something is preventing the arrival of Zaros. Jahaan is enlisted by Azzanadra to help bring his god back to their world, a task that would send him into the harshities of the Mahjarrat homeworld: Freneskae…

CHAPTER 3: NIGHTMARE AT THE CRADLE

Seeing as lava was part of Freneskae’s decor as much as grey rocks and sleeping elder gods were, Jahaan wasn’t surprised when the volcano he was climbing down erupted. He figured it was par for the course at this point. A sort of, ‘what more could possibly go wrong?’ cavalier attitude. Such a mindset helped him feel slightly less terrified as the red hot lava flowed down the side of the volcano and magma spew out of the top, pouring down in a large stream of fiery death. Jahaan found himself dodging these alongside the random balls of fire that rained from the sky and the vents in the ground that expelled boiling hot steam.

Freneskae was a lovely place.

The rain became rocks, the sky filled with a choking smoky powder and the air warmed quicker than the bonfires of Menaphos Worker District. Almost as soon as lightning had struck a clifftop, Freneskae became illuminated. In the distance, thick gray smoke billowed upwards, shielding the world with a veil of darkness as the smoke swallowed up the whole sky. The glowing embers lept and twirled in a fiery dance, twinkling like stars in the hot swirling air before cascading downwards like gleeful pyrefiends.

It wasn’t too far into their journey that a strange, towering creature emerged from behind a rock face, lumbering towards Jahaan with bared teeth and too many arms. Its skin was a putrid yellow colour, a purple shell covered in spikes armouring its back. Claws as long as swords ended each arm; it didn’t have legs, but that didn’t stop it from moving at a rather daunting pace in his general direction.

Jahaan cowered back, mouth hung agape. “What… is THAT?!”

“That is a manifestation of Mah’s nightmares,” Zaros explained, his tone too calm for what the situation required. “Just as she dreamed the Mahjarrat into existence, so too her nightmares become sentient, into ‘muspah’. They are very dangerous.”

“Yes, I can see that!” Jahaan snapped back, drawing his swords and crouching into a fighting stance. When the muspah charged, Jahaan swung his sword in fearsome retaliation, and the blade did indeed hit its target, but it seemed to… pass through? The muspah shrugged it off as if he’d hit it with a daisy. Valiantly, Jahaan tried again, and again, until he had to dive out of the way from a crushing attack from one of its many limbs.

“Your blade will do no good here,” Zaros informed, bluntly.

Panting for breath, Jahaan kept up the defensive as he replied, “I should range it?”

“No. It’s only weakness is the Ancient Magicks.”

This… did not feel Jahaan with glee. “Zaros, I don’t even know the regular magicks, let alone the ancient ones!”

“You do not, but I do,” Zaros hinted, and soon enough Jahaan pieced two and two together. Sheathing his swords, he shot out a hand towards the muspah and unleashed a fierce battle cry.

...and nothing happened.

Eyes wide, Jahaan was too startled to properly react to the muspah’s charge and caught a glancing blow that sent him hurtling to the ground.

Coughing down the Freneskaen air didn’t help matters. “I thought that would work!” Jahaan growled, pushing himself to his feet. “Why didn’t it work?!”

“Magic is more than just an action,” Zaros explained, “It is a feeling. You must believe your motions, otherwise nothing will result. Focus. I have provided you with the power. You must channel it yourself.”

Gulping, Jahaan kept as much distance as he could from the muspah as he could while his thoughts raced. Okay, focus. The ancient elements are shadow, smoke, ice and… and blood, that’s it! Right, let’s try ice. I can do this. I can do this…

Then, from behind him, another muspah spawned, shrieking with the wrath of Mah.

Cursing wildly in every tongue he knew, he desperately fought to focus, to not let panic overcome him. 

Just… pretend it’s a fire spell, he internally tried to rationalize. Not that I was ever any good at those, but the feeling should be the same…. right?

Jahaan was all but hurled back like a projectile when the first surge of ice magic shot from his palms and careened into the muspah. If the creature’s painful roars were anything to go by, he’d hit the mark. Then again, he could have just angered it further.

Jahaan didn’t think too much into this before he channeled his next spell. Ice seemed to prove effective, so why fix what isn’t broken? The blast shot from his hands in a haphazard, barely controlled fashion, but it caught the creature’s leg. The weight of magic was something Jahaan wasn’t used to; it weighed more than his sword did by a great deal. Then again, Jahaan reasoned that this was because he hadn’t exactly gotten the hang of controlling his attacks yet.

Deadly precision would be nice, but as long as he hit the damn thing, he was content. Focusing on one muspah at a time seemed like a wise strategy, so Jahaan evaded the second’s charges as he shot small but powerful ice spells into the first muspah. Gently chipping away at it, Jahaan did not relent until finally - thanks to one admittedly accidental strike to the creature’s temple - it fell to the ground.

Feeling the magic pulsing through his veins, Jahaan had never felt so powerful, so alive! He had the power of one of Gielinor’s most powerful deities flowing through him, and it was addictive.

Getting slightly cocky, Jahaan decided to mix things up, channeling a blood spell next, which connected with the second muspah’s chest. Dodging out of the way of an enraged claw, Jahaan was in the perfect position to follow up. He did so, but miscalculated, well, everything.

Caught in the blast zone, the muspah crumpled under the power of the smoke spell, but Jahaan did too, coughing up a lung as he found himself staring up into the dark Freneskaen skies. His face felt like it was on fire, and when he dared move a hand towards his cheek, he noticed that some of the skin had nearly been scorched off. The cloth around his nose and mouth was no more. Fortunately, his armour had protected the rest of him, only slightly charred from the explosion.

“World Guardian,” Zaros called inside his mind.

Jahaan internally groaned, which he didn’t even care if Zaros could hear. “Give me a minute.”

“World Guardian, we have to keep moving. They will be back in greater numbers.”

Peeling himself off the ground, a greater effort than the entirety of the muspah fight, Jahaan reached into his backpack and guzzled down the contents of his waterskin, pausing only to choke now and again. Taking deep breaths just made things worse; he felt his throat tightening at the action, repelling the thick acrid air around him. “I can’t do anything if I can’t breathe. Hold on a second.”

After removing his chestplate, next he took off his shirt, ripping strips out of it. Unfortunately he had nothing to clean the wound on his face, so resorted to just binding it at it was, looking like one of Dr Fenkenstrain’s creatures. Another strip he used to cover his mouth and nose, slightly helping the whole breathing situation.

After putting his chestplate back on, Jahaan blinked out the dust from around his eyes and fought past the dizziness in his head. “Alright, where to?”

All the way down to the bottom of the volcano, that was where to.

Luckily, no more muspah were encountered on their travels. In their place were the occasional earthquakes, leaving Jahaan clinging for dear life onto whatever was around him at the time. Landslides and rockfalls blocked their path on no less than three occasions; clambering over them wasn’t too difficult, but Jahaan’s limbs were already aching just from walking. Cinders and ashes rained down from the sky like violent snow, scorching to the touch. Despite this, Jahaan found himself constantly looking upwards, shielding his face with his arm as best he could so he could look out for incoming lava flows. They were a waiting game - guess what path they were streaming in, pray that you were right, wait for them to pass, then continue.

Freneskae was a lovely place.

Eventually the two of them made it through into the Elder Halls, a large expanse of marble and crystalline rock that looked like it had been untouched for centuries. Glowing wisps of energy were floating around the room, sparkling stars in the dark cavern, all different shapes, colours and sizes. Five tunnels spread out from the centre room.

“There, planted in the ground,” Zaros referenced a small stick jutting out of the stone. “That is the Measure. An Elder Artifact used to measure the anima mundi of a place. With it you can bring forth harvestable wisps to weave a divine simulacrum.”

Jahaan rubbed his temples. “I understood about 20% of that. Just tell me what I need to do in simple, mortal terms, please.”

“Take the Measure, plant it in the ground. Faint wisps surrounding will then become harvestable. Guide them together until they join, like atoms. Continue until you have enough to weave a simulacrum. I will know when that is.”

“Thank you,” Jahaan smiled, thankful for the triumph of simplicity. “Hey, what’s in those tunnels?”

“Explore, should you wish,” Zaros allowed; Jahaan took him up on the offer, walking through into the closest tunnel. Inside it was a floating fragmented sphere, grey and covered in hexagons.

“What is it?” Jahaan enquired, not quite stupid enough to reach out and touch it.

“It is the egg the elder god Jas hatched from,” Zaros explained. “Does it not seem familiar?”

Now that he thought about it, the egg did look hauntingly similar to the Stone itself…

“It can’t be the same one, can it?”

“Not exactly. The one you have encountered is unique, altered to become what it is. This one's purpose was quite simple, and was fulfilled.”

“So this one is…?”

“Debris,” Zaros simply replied. “You will find more in the other chambers.”

And he did. A freezing chamber with a fragmented egg covered in ice, belonging to Wen. A boiling chamber with most of the head radiating from the red-hot egg, belonging to Ful. A chamber with dark brown egg and an earthy smell, belonging to Bik.

The last one was a darker chamber. The egg was black on the outside, looking almost smooth except for a spiral running around it. The spiral looked like some sort of corruption. “Is this...?”

“Mah’s,” Zaros confirmed. “Her’s is the energy you must harvest. When you wish to proceed, World Guardian.”

Unaware that Zaros was even capable of slight passive aggressiveness was news to Jahaan, but he did feel like the deity was ushering him on now. To be fair, he had been dawdling. Still, there was one more question on his mind, and feeling he was holding enough cards, Jahaan felt bold enough to ask it.”

“Why do you want to become an elder god?”

“All in due time,” Zaros repeated.

“No, that time is now,” Jahaan insisted. “If you want a body, I’m your only shot. All I want is to know who I’m really dealing with. You’re inside my mind. You can’t lie.”

There was a long, drawn out pause, and Jahaan felt like he was playing chicken with a cannon. Nevertheless, he held steady to his resolve.

Eventually, Zaros spoke. “The elder gods create a Perfect World - like Gielinor is, like Freneskae was - and then slumber. Then, when the amount of anima mundi of a universe is sufficient, new elder gods hatch from eggs underneath the current Perfect World and proceed to suck the anima of the universe dry to revive themselves, destroying the universe in the process. Then, the cycle begins again.”

Jahaan’s chest became heavy with realisation. “The Great Revision…”

“Yes,” Zaros gravely confirmed.

“But… but that won’t be any time soon, right?”

“I do not know when the elder gods will wake. It could be a millennia. It could be a fortnight. When they do, they will show no mercy.”

Shaking his head, Jahaan exclaimed, “There has to be something we can do about it!”

“Ease, World Guardian,” Zaros tried to calm. “That is why I wish to become an elder god. I want to stall The Great Revision, to reason with the elder gods. I can only do that if I am their peer.”

Shaking his head to try and rattle this supposed logic into place, Jahaan said, “So basically what you’re saying is that, when these new elder gods hatch, the universe is going to be destroyed. But if you became an elder god, you could, what, persuade the elder gods not to allow the eggs to hatch? Convince them to hold off? Is that the long and short of it?”

“Yes,” Zaros replied. “From the innate knowledge Mah has given me, I know that The Great Revision occurs when, in their eyes, they find that the Perfect World they have created has become corrupted. I will convince them that this universe worth sparing; that, in Gielinor, they have created a Perfect World that should be left to thrive. If I do not interfere, The Great Revision could be upon us at any moment.”

“But why didn’t they destroy Freneskae?” Jahaan asked.

“That I do not know for sure,” Zaros conceded. “Mah was too weak to leave Freneskae. Perhaps they did not destroy this world for, in doing so, they would destroy her too. But we cannot dwell upon the universe’s mortality now. We must proceed with the task at hand.”

“Right, right, sorry…” Jahaan exhaled deeply, really wishing he had a drink in front of him right about now.

So, as he was instructed, he planted the Measure into the softer spots between the rocks. The Measure didn’t seem to have a hard time breaking through. When it did, the faint wisps surrounding Jahaan became less ethereal, and he found he could guide them now.

Thus began a rather tedious process of planting the Measure, gathering a handful of wisps together, moving the Measure, and repeat. Only a few wisps became tangible at a time; the orb he was creating began larger and larger, but Zaros didn’t cut him off at any point.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jahaan asked, “How many more of these do you need?”

“Not many more,” Zaros answered, much to Jahaan’s relief.

It still took a good ten more minutes of siphoning the energy before Zaros declared, “It is finished. The body is woven. I will depart from your form.”

A little more warning would have been nice, Jahaan thought to himself after he picked himself up off the ground, momentarily falling unconscious at the sudden absence of the deity. Beside him was the ‘body’ he had woven that Zaros had now inhabited. It had a shape akin to a child moulding a person out of clay, round and featureless.

“Now, you must infuse my body with dark energy, creating a dark simulacrum,” Zaros stated.

“How do I do that?”

“Directly above us, on the top of the volcano, are crystal shards of dark and light energy embedded into Mah’s fingertips,” Zaros explained. “You must extract one and insert it into the body.”

Jahaan almost felt like collapsing with frustration. “So hold up, you’re telling me I have to climb BACK UP that volcano, with all the fun hazards that entails, possibly encounter another hoard of muspah, then pluck a piece of Mah out of her sleeping form without her waking?”

“You have come this far, World Guardian,” was all Zaros could say.

Yes, he’d come this far. Jahaan also realised that, without Zaros, he’d probably have to walk back to the World Gate by himself, without Zaros’ guidance or protection. He was stuck between a rock, and a much bigger rock, both of which were plentiful on Freneskae.

So, they trekked back up the mountain again, past the lava flows, the landslides, the lightning strikes and every other natural wonder that the weather bestowed upon them.

"How was Freneskae ever a perfect world?" Jahaan muttered to himself as he crawled over a mount of rocks.

Eventually, Jahaan heaved himself over the final ledge and found himself at the top of the volcano, thankful for the lack of muspah this time around.

“Hurry, World Guardian, before her nightmares attack us.”

Jahaan didn’t need to be persuaded anymore than that. As swiftly yet as quietly as he could, he edged over to Mah’s sleeping form. Crystals of shining blue and dark purple protruded from her fingers. Delicately, Jahaan wrapped his hand around the smallest shard of purple that was close to him, plucking it out with his heart in his throat, expecting to be squashed at any moment.

He didn’t dare look up at her.

Fortunately, the act didn’t seem to have any effect on Mah, and he returned to Zaros with the crystal.

“Perfect, that is exactly what I require,” Zaros’ monotone voice wasn’t great at conveying joy, but Jahaan didn’t let it bother him. Holding it closer to Zaros was enough for the crystal to be engulfed into his body.

Then, the transformation begun.

The body grew, larger and darker, until it was an eight foot silhouette of pure black energy. Limbs sprouted and became more defined; purple crystals took the place of claws and shaped his joints. They also took the place of eyes - eight of them, to be exact. Zaros stretched outwards, quickly growing accustomed to his new form. From seemingly nowhere, purple robes faded into existence and automatically donned themself to Zaros, as did his gold-plated armour that fixed into his shoulders and chest. Zaros’ eyes receded into the back of his hood, once more becoming the faceless deity he was known for being; an armoured mask filled the void.

But before Jahaan could admire his handiwork, Mah began to stir. Her hands clenched into tight fists, and she dragged her oversized head off the volcano top.

“She is waking,” Zaros watched with horror as Mah awoke. His composed and stoic demeanour fell into one of panic. “We have to leave!”

He shot back around to Jahaan. “I need your permission!”

Mah’s face was a contorted mess of rocks, lava spewing from her mouth and out of one of her eyes. One side of her face had two eyes, one seemingly filled with lava, while the other had four eyes of random shapes and sizes, glowing brightly with divine energy.

Jahaan was transfixed as she rose from the volcano top and began to blink her way back to the world of the awake.

Mah lifted a hand, held it high above the two of them, darkening their world like an ash cloud.

Her intentions were clear.

“WORLD GUARDIAN, NOW!” Zaros cried as Mah’s fist descended.

“YES!” Jahaan managed to call out at the last second, allowing Zaros to teleport the two of them away. The millisecond after they did, Mah’s fist struck the ground, denting the rock beneath it. Enraged, Mah raised her head to the sky and roared a terrifying, furious cry, shaking the earth and skies around her with venom and fury.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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