#its better to wait and ruminate than it is to jump in with no idea what youre doing

[fortuositywritings]

The Great Animal Rescue

Summary: You should have minded your own business, but try saying no to a little girl who was crying for her cat. Now you are stuck in a tree trying not to embarrass yourself in front of the attractive individual who comes to your rescue.

A/N: This is a Skye/Daisy x reader short that is meant to give some background for them in I Said No

___________________________________________________________________

2:17pm

Y/N where r u??

You are stuck in a tree with no way down is where you are. You should really learn to say no to people. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place. You were on your way to meet your friends at the movies after stopping at an ice cream shop for a cone. You thought, why not walk the way there? It is only a few blocks away and it’s nice outside. 

So you began walking, licking your ice cream happily. It’s nothing compared to the ice cream shop in the small town where your cousin lives, but this one is still pretty damn good. Not two minutes into your stroll, the sound of someone sniffling made you pause. You hesitated to investigate where the noise was coming from, seeing that your cousin’s husband has given you plenty of lectures about stranger danger. You ignored the voice in your head saying he might have a point. He spends a lot of his time in New York; there are a lot of weirdos there. This is LA in broad daylight. The worst thing that could happen where you were at the moment would have been getting run over by an electric scooter. 

Clearly you were wrong.

It turned out to be some kid crying because her cat wouldn’t come down from the tree. You asked her where her parents were. She said they were inside the house and wouldn’t come outside because if the cat could climb up, it would eventually come back down. You told her they were probably right and were about to leave her there on the sidewalk but that was before she gave you some of the most adorable puppy dog eyes and a “please”. 

You asked the girl to hold your cone while you spotted the cat. It didn’t seem to be too far up into the tree. You started climbing up, grabbing a branch and hoisting yourself up. One branch made a on your green sweater, making you mumble in displeasure the rest of the way up to the cat. You should have listened to her parents as well. As soon as you had reached the cat, the damn thing ran past you and ran down the tree like a squirrel. You nearly lost your balance.

The girl thanked you even though you didn’t really do anything and ran inside her house after her cat, taking your ice cream with her. After mumbling to yourself on never falling for some puppy eyes again, you realized how far up you actually were. Your face blanched and your grip tightened around the tree branch keeping you balanced. 

You felt your phone vibrate and it took you 5 minutes to actually take it out to read the message. That’s where you are at right now. Trying to message your friend Ola back, typing with one shaky thumb.

2:23pm

Stuck intr ee two block sway help

Before pressing send, you think it over. Should you message her back? You know if you tell her to come rescue you, she would come with the rest of the gang and they would never let you live it down. Is it worth it? Better that than dying up here, you think.

Going to press send, your sweaty hand loses its grip on your phone and it falls onto the grass below. “Fuck!”

“Fuck!” Someone echoes from below, startling you in return. “Shit!”

You’re practically hugging the tree at this point. The person below you speaks to you, “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing up there?”

You hesitate to look down but brave the fear of looking down to see the woman talking to you. And what a spectacular view you have. Had you not already been weak in the knees from being so terrified, you would have some now from looking at this gorgeous person. She’s clearly waiting for your reply, so you clear your throat and say, “Rescuing a cat. What are you doing?”

“Walking to my van.” She points to the van across the street. “Where’s the cat?”

“What?” you ask. She raises an eyebrow at you. “You said you were rescuing a cat, but I don’t see any.”

“Very observant of you,” you point out, not answering her question. She narrows her eyes at you. “You’re not like some weirdo trying to peek into someone’s bedroom are you?”

You scoff. “What?! No! I’m one for one on rescuing cats, actually. It went back inside to its house.” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’re the one with the creepy ‘I’ve got candy inside my van’ van, so.”

Now this stranger looks embarrassed. “It’s for work.”

“Who do you work for? The CIA?” you joke, making the woman laugh. “They’d wish.”

It’s your turn to give her a questioning look at the odd response. She ignores it and loops back to you. “So if this great animal rescue went just like you said, why are you still up there?”

“To, uh-get better reception,” you lie. She looks at you unimpressed and you see why when she bends down to pick up the phone you dropped. “You mean for the phone that’s down here on the ground?”

You laugh nervously. She catches on when she notices how tight your hold on the tree is. “Are you sure you’re not just stuck up there?”

“What? Stuck? Me?” you laugh as if what she is saying is just offensive. “No, I just liked the peacefulness the tree provided. I dropped my phone on purpose. Yeah, I didn’t want it to distract me from really appreciating the beauty of the world around us.”

“Yeah, the McDonalds down the road really does look beautiful in the daylight,” she quips.

“It’s the wonder of the golden arches,” you retort, pulling a genuine laugh from the woman. 

“Well, then I’ll leave you to it,” she says. You dryly swallow, afraid that your chance at getting down from the tree will leave with her. She speaks up again. “But before I go, would you like me to send the message to Ola that somewhat reads ‘Stuck in a tree two blocks away help’?”

She smirks and you sigh at being caught. “Okay, truth is I’m deathly afraid of heights. I didn’t realize how high I actually was until I tried coming down.”

“Well, that’s okay. It is one of the most common fears,” she reasons.

“It’s embarrassing. I can’t even look at a plane without feeling nauseous.”

“Well, I think you’ve been doing well so far. Look how long you lasted up there while looking down towards me.” She points.

“That’s only because you’re a good distraction,” you confess. 

She begins to climb up towards you. “Aww, are you trying to call me beautiful?”

You blush and don’t say anything though the silence speaks for you. She finally gets to you. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, let’s get you down this tree, Robin Hood.” 

“Robin Hood?” you question the nickname. “Is it because of the tree?”

“That. Also, the tights and green top pull it all together. We just need to get you a bow and some arrows and you’ll be set.” The irony at the fact that there are plenty of arrows and bows at your cousin’s house due to her husband’s profession isn’t lost on you. Unfortunately, any joke you could make about it would get you in trouble, so you just smile at the beauty trying to help you down. 

She offers you her hand and helps you get down the tree branch to branch with all the patience in the world. Not once does she complain about the death grip you have on her hand. When your feet feel the ground beneath them, you feel like crying. Instead you just let go of the stranger’s hand and try to get your heartbeat to settle down to it’s regular pace.

“Not too bad, see? Soon you’ll be bungee jumping,” she jokes.

“That’s a big leap from getting down from a tree.”

“Well, yeah. It’s bungee jumping. Leaping is the first half of the process,” she says sarcastically. You roll your eyes at her playfully. Then she smiles at you with a gleam in her eye as if she just had the best idea in the world. “How about we start with something smaller then? What are you doing on Friday?”

“Um, I don’t have any plans yet.”

“Now you do. Friday night, you will be taking the next step to conquering your fear of heights!”

“It’s not bungee jumping, is it?” you ask, petrified. As beautiful as this girl may be, risking your life for the chance to see this girl one more time doesn’t seem like a well thought out trade. 

“Calm down, Robin Hood. I was thinking more along the lines of getting you to ride the ferris wheel at the fair,” she reassures you, making you blush.

“Like on a date?” you shyly ask. God, you hope you didn’t just embarrass yourself.

“Like on a date.” She smiles at you and your heart feels like it’s skipping.

“Y/N.”  You throw out. She looks lost so you explain, “Every Robin Hood has a name for when they aren’t up in trees ready to rob rich people. Mine happens to be Y/N.”

“Skye.” She offers her name and you take it so willingly, letting it ruminate in your mind. “Here.” She pulls your phone out of the pocket she had put it in. She goes to your contacts and adds herself in before handing it back to you. You stare down at it in wonder. 

“Well, I think your friends might be waiting on you, so…” She begins walking backwards. “I’ll see you Friday, Y/N!”

She turns around looking both ways before jogging across the street towards her van. You see her pull into the street nodding at you before driving off. You wave back after the van, dumbstruck. “What the hell just happened?” You mumble to yourself.

****

“You know when you said I would be getting on the ferris wheel, I assumed you meant you would go on it with me,” you grumble, making your way over to Skye who was waiting for you by the exit gate of the ride. 

She reaches for your hand pulling you closer to her. “Some things, you have to learn to do alone. You just have to let the belief that something great will come out of pushing through your fear guide you through that fear.”

“I don’t think any funnel cake we get later was worth that experience,” you pout. 

“Okay, then how about this,” she says before pulling you in to kiss you. It doesn’t last long but you let it consume you for the seconds you have. You open your eyes when she continues, “and a second date?”

“Only if it ends just like that,” you counter. She kisses you again, the second kiss leaving you just as dazed as the first.

“Deal,” she agrees, pulling you towards the funnel cake truck. “Next date, Robin Hood takes on Six Flags!”

“Wait, what?!”

_____________________________________________________________________

So, just a side little thing for some Reader and Daisy/Skye context before she eventually shows up in I Said No. It feels like I’m giving this reader a whole Universe. The world does in fact revolve around Y/N. 

Obviously (or maybe not) I dropped some references to the other fic but really you could read either without needing to read the other (if it truly breaks your heart to see reader with anyone else).

@madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovestory @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @paumxmff @wandamaximoffsrings @yeetus-thyself @lostandsearching @when-wolves-howl @euphoriaszn2 @gingerbreadcookieforlife 

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 24 - These Four Walls 🔞

w/c -6,406

           Naoya finds himself unable to sleep despite feeling the comfort of her next to him after their bath. As he shifts to sit himself up in the bed, her body subconsciously adjusts around him before laying her head lower along his abdomen. He’s ensnared by his own anxiety as he watches her sleep. Lies are not something he wants to start off with but how does he explain his plan to her? The pressure weighs on him as he claims to care about her. How does he tell her that he needs Getou alive in order to help him deal with Gojo?

           The strategy was always to bring the Zenin clan back as leaders and she’s been engraved into this for years now, way before they ever actually met. His only focus then was to fulfil what he was taught was his destiny. He received the ancient technique along with the traditionally inherited ones but they kept this a secret in fear of the Gojo clan retaliation. They wanted to at least strengthen Naoya, let him grow older, stronger, more resilient…things that would be necessary if he were to ever stand a chance against Satoru. It was not thought to be below Gojo to nonchalantly kill a possible threat back then, child or not. He was truly something else.

           The Zenin ancient technique is the manipulation of scalar warfare via scalar energy waves. This energy naturally exists amongst us but it travels completely differently than sound or visible light…much faster too. He can summon great amounts of energy and direct it to a coordinated location from any distance and with almost complete accuracy, he’s yet to fully master that part. With the energy traveling faster than the speed of light its an almost guaranteed win even if you don’t factor in how devastating the impact is. He’s not even informed Choso of this although he wishes he could now openly as his thoughts travel to alternatives.

           His left hand finds itself wrapping around her shoulder as she peacefully dreams. His fingers fumble with the loose cut off shirt that Choso let him borrow for her. He really should have thought about clothes. He looks down and lightly brushes his fingers along her shoulder blade and back while he sighs to her perfection. “You really messed my entire world up…” He whispers with a smile, knowing that he’s more than happy for it. He still thinks it’s better to be rid of Gojo for sure, he doesn’t really trust him with her or as a shaman in general. What he doesn’t want is for her to hate him because of it though and he knows that’s likely, even more so if he keeps these facts from her.

           His eyes take to their surroundings. ‘These four walls…’ He despises keeping her locked in here, a room without windows, living a life without freedom. The horrific indention in the floor from where Getou attacked her ends up being where his vision travels next and he feels as if he could scream in frustration. They’ve since cleaned the blood but it doesn’t matter, the memory stains his mind. He looks to the tub next, probably trying to ease his thoughts but he can’t help but notice the pink ring around the inside from where there’s still some bloody residue. They never cleaned their legs before getting in the first time together so inadvertently, the ring formed. ‘I need to wash that…’

           She stirs beside him and nuzzles her head into him further after bringing her left arm across his hips. His mood improves, causing him to beam as he reaches for the now dark grey covers to pull them over her more. The silver sheets were ruined after the first night as well from where they laid down right after she was healed. He wonders if there’s even the slightest chance that he can spare Gojo and him not be a problem. The original plan would probably be easier but he just can’t bring himself to hurt him knowing it would hurt her in return. Toji hasn’t even entered his train of thought before now and he sinks a bit knowing Toji wants her as well. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Naoya’s certainly not going to back down, especially if she wants him in her life but he’s also not aligned with the idea of fighting Toji, he admires and respects him far too deeply.

           He glances around the room again and comes to the odd realization that these four walls have also been a blessing in a way. Only here were they able to truly discover each other, his intentions finally understood by her. The words that left him and the actions he demonstrated always came out wrong before and this caused her to remain weary of him for quite some time. He thinks back to the first night when he let it slip that he loves her and how understanding her reaction was. ‘There’s no way she could have known…’ Understanding that he has a lot to learn about her still, he brushes the suspicion away. He takes his right hand and grabs her left one that’s thrown over him, bringing it to lie on his chest. He sighs as he debates further about how he should move forward.

           Truly, the one thing he wants to ensure over everything now is Getou’s demise. ‘That fucker has it coming.’ He’s never heard Choso’s opinion exactly but he has a hunch that he’s with him as far as Getou is concerned. ‘What a sneaky business this is.’ That makes him think of Sukuna now and he wonders if worse came to worse…would he be able to nullify him as well? Naoya now feels like he’s seemingly against the world aside from Choso. His gut harbors a bad feeling about what’s to come, he can’t ignore it.

           His grip on her hand became firm while he sorts through initiatives and he has to remind himself to relax again. Toji has been calling him nonstop and he’s purposefully disregarded this partially because he doesn’t want to tip off Getou but he’s also ashamed that Getou was able to rip out her wing…while he had her. If he does return Toji’s call, would he even be willing to talk? Would he be willing to help? Naoya finds it doubtful considering he reached out to him before and was shut down. ‘If it’s to get her out of here unharmed though…maybe he will be willing then.’ The more he ruminates over the obstacles he finds himself leaning against the original plan. He would rather her be safe over having Gojo taken out. He can’t prove it but he knows there’s something Getou’s hiding and he fears what that may turn out to be. Getou is closing in on him fast and Naoya’s understanding that there aren’t any limits or types of etiquette that Getou will follow so he has to remain sharp. Before Elska arrived, he planned on not hovering over like he has been in fear of how Getou would react…now he feels like he can’t leave her alone because of how Getou has acted.

           As his left-hand trails over her back under the loose shirt, his fingernails lift a corner of her seal. She’s already unable to protect herself with cursed energy in here so he loathes her being without her wings as well. ‘Fuck it.’ He pinches the lifted corner and peels the talisman away. ‘She needs to be left with some form of defense just in case.’ Right in that moment, as he’s crumbling up the paper into a wadded ball, he comes to terms with the fact that he officially wants her out of there. “You deserve better…” he sighs deeply as he looks to the ceiling.

           “But you’re not so bad…”

           He jumps a bit from her sudden response and waits to see if she’s actually awake. His eyes are trained on her as he sees her open her own to look up at him. She smiles and sits up as if she’s going to leave the bed but she just repositions herself to lay against his chest in a semi upright position as well.

           “Naoya?”

           “Yes, princess?”

           She giggles to the pet name as she knows she is probably the furthest thing from that. “What’s on your mind? You usually snore a bit…”

           He’s caught off guard by this and lets out an abrupt “Ha!” as he found it pretty funny. “Do I now?” He dances his fingertips along her back to tickle her and she jolts awkwardly into him while they laugh.

           “You do indeed…but it’s not loud, it’s actually kind of cute.” She smiles against him while she listens to his heartbeat and the way he fills and empties his lungs. ‘So wonderful…’ There’s a comfortable silence that washes over them but she asks again, “What’s bothering you though?” When he exhales sharply, she lifts herself up to face him. His eyes seem melancholy and heavy when he looks back to her and she can sense that he’s really worried about something. “Naoya, please…just tell me.”

           “Elska,” He begins as he tries to uplift his demeanor, “This isn’t a good place for you, I was selfish when I thought it would be.” He glances down at her lap but can feel her eyes on him so he meets them. His hand is still around her left one so he squeezes it slightly and brings it to his lips. “I want to be with you but I have to take care of a lot of issues first.” He can now feel his worried expression as she raises a concerned eyebrow at him.

           “I will help you with Getou.” The apprehension on her face fades to a determined one as she brings her right hand to run through his hair. He smiles to it but she can tell he was about to negate her words, he was clearly against the idea.

           “He is why I have to get you out of here.” He’s watching her as she shifts to straddling him and he gulps down air as she finds her balance. “You still have no idea what he’s capable of…”

           “I don’t want you around him either Naoya, he holds malice towards you.” She clicks her tongue, “I will slice him to ribbons if he even tries to harm you.” Her eyes began to glow at the end of her statement, reflecting the light off of Naoya’s fair complexion.

           He wasn’t expecting her to say any of that, he finds her to be much more delicate than she maybe is. “Consideration of this matter is over, I will not allow you to fight him.” He feels like he sounded brutish or insensitive so he begins to reword it, “What I meant was…”

           “I know you’re worried Naoya but you are not alone in this.” Her hands search his arms aimlessly before progressing, “I want to crush him for what he did to me in front of you. For the way he made you feel.” Her eyes are still glowing as her hatred forms inside. When she drank from him after Getou’s attack, she was able to feel every bit of sorrow he experienced…all of the guilt from the situation as well. “Why did you remove the seal if you weren’t wanting me to fight?”

           “I want you to be able to defend yourself Elska… my stomach turns at the thought of something like that happening again. This is why you have to go.”

           “Then you’re coming with me.” Her words felt strong as she stiffens her expression to stand against his reluctancy. “Regardless of how we do this, I’m not leaving without Itadori or you.”

           He feels his chest become heavy with emotion as her words warm and chill him all the same. “I’m sure Gojo and Toji will be fine with that.” He scoffs to himself as he places a hand on his head and apologizes. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just…ughhh…”

           She sees his vexation and doesn’t take offense, she knows better than to think he’s so blatantly rude, ‘He’s just upset…’ She sees him struggling to finish his meaning now being a little more flustered than before so she leans down and kisses him. The way it feels when he kisses her back is indescribably beautiful. As much as she doesn’t want to pull away, she does but only so she can bring his head to her chest. While resting her chin above him, she runs her fingers through his hair trying to help him find some reprieve. “Why is it so important that Getou lives Naoya? What purpose were you claiming he serves before?”

           This was the part he was apprehensive about and he hesitates to speak as he’s already decided to tell her the truth, he just doesn’t want her to pull away. After a long sigh he wraps his arms around her and admits, “Well…it was to help me deal with Gojo.” He closes his eyes against her as he waits for the inevitable movement of her trying to be free of his grasp. She doesn’t budge though nor does she say anything so he thinks to continue, “That would mean keeping you here though…and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to try and talk with Toji to come up with a plan.” She moves now and pulls away but not as he expected.

           She’s looking down into his eyes and knows that hurt is displayed on her face. “You were planning on killing Sati this entire time?” She thinks back to when he was sealed and wonders why they wouldn’t have done it then…also extremely grateful that they didn’t.

           “The plan was to try…or at least seal him again.” His voice is dampened with regret but he’s glad he was able to be truthful.

           “Naoya… you can’t!” She’s unsure how to think through this situation. Her heart has been split into three…three for Christ’s sake. ‘Nanami was right about us being completely dysfunctional.’ She feels the severity of the situation and is baffled by how she had no idea…Naoya doesn’t have that kind of taste at all.

           “That’s not the design anymore,” He brings his right hand to cup her cheek and uses his thumb to wipe away her tear that was forming, “There’s no way I could go through with it now, I’m incapable of putting you through that Elska.” He sees her expression soften as she grabs his hand with her own. “Now with that being said, I can’t promise not to fight him…I may not have a choice.”

           At first her brow furrows to this but she understands shortly afterwards that he’s meaning Satoru may attack him. “I will protect you Naoya, as you’ve done for me here… they just need to know that and it will be fine!” She almost rolls her eyes to her own statement as she nods to him to show she wasn’t actually that delusional. “I mean, we can try to explain at least…” Her eyes widen for a second as she darts her eyes back to him. “I actually don’t think Sati hates you at all Naoya… perhaps quite the opposite.”

           He’s confused by this and is convinced that she’s making a joke so he smiles but the intensity in her eyes doesn’t diminish. “What do you mean by that?” He’s genuinely curious as he thinks about all of their interactions and how friendly they weren’t.

           She stares blankly into the bed as she wonders to herself, ‘Yea how exactly should I explain this one? Would it be better not to?’ She’s nervously looking at him now as he patiently waits for clarification. “Not to bring up bad deeds but do you remember the time when you did have him sealed and I came searching for him?” Naoya grins immediately but then composes his face as he tries to pretend that he still doesn’t enjoy that memory. She returns a playful look to him and he bashfully shrugs his shoulders and says, “What? It was kind of hot before the almost dying part…”  She blinks slowly to his response and looks away as she’s even more unsure now if she should clear this up or not. She wants to laugh but is somewhat concerned. ‘What are the fucking odds? Please God, no… I don’t think I could handle him too…’

           “What is it? Was that weird and not funny?” Naoya felt the disconnection in the conversation after he spoke and worries that he was far too comfortable with her.

           She looks back to him with caution, “He felt the same.” She shoves Naoya’s chest so he falls down against the pillows, “You two are such perverts!”

She laughs as he gathers she’s not bothered and belts out high-pitched chuckles as he’s forms, “Are you saying he really wasn’t ready to kill me?!” He’s in disbelief as she’s still giggling above him.

“No and I really don’t think he hates you Naoya...I can’t tell you exactly what he feels but it’s not hatred.” Both of her hands are on his chest now as their voices fill the room. “Don’t get any bright ideas though, he does NOT need encouragement in that realm.”

He sits up slightly and is wondering if he’s over thinking her statement but asks anyways, “Has he tried to make that happen?” He feels her tense up a bit. “Elska?”

“This is why I took a minute to speak, I feared it would lead to this…” She looks down at him as her eyes warn him of something he really doesn’t want knowledge of.

He sits up further as he adjusts his arms to hang off her waist, “I’m not going to like this I’m guessing…” She nods no and his mind begins to wander at who Gojo would have involved with them, ‘Surely she wouldn’t act this way if it were a random person…’ Then it hits him. His eyes grow wide with shock as he looks back up to her. “TOJI?”

She’s waiting for his disgust to become apparent and shifts her weight to her shins and knees to be prepared for him to want her to move off of him. “Yes…” Her eyes are fixed onto his abdomen as she savors the image fearing she may not be able to see him from this angle anymore, in this context. He doesn’t say anything but she hears him huff a couple of times. The anticipation of his rejection is killing her so she starts to climb off of him but he stops her.

“Where are you going?” He grabs her by the waist gently to anchor her back into his lap. She still doesn’t look at him but can tell she’s tearing up. “Don’t cry, it’s…not what I was expecting is all…I just needed to…internalize that.” He guides her chin back towards his direction. “It’s ok…I really just would never have seen that coming. Gojo seems way too greedy to me.” He tries to smile awkwardly as he hides his discontent of knowing him and Toji did that with her. There’s no doubt in his mind now though that it would’ve been Gojo’s idea as he thinks back to the day he was taking Elska from behind in front of him. “So THAT’S what that look was…” He sees her confusion and says, “Of course I did not want that image in my head but I’d rather be aware than dumb.” He wraps his arms a little bit tighter around her, “And Gojo gave me a look that day when I was…when we were…” He smiles widely, “I was expecting hateful eyes but they weren’t…and now that makes sense.” He laughs wholeheartedly as she finally smiles again. “I’m not so eager to share though,” He gives her a quick peck on the lips, “I just didn’t mind him having to watch.” He winks to her and growls into another kiss as he’s trying to encourage her to relax again.

She’s beyond relieved but still embarrassed about the topic of conversation. ‘I kind of asked for that one though.’ There’s no way for her to understand how his mind navigates these things as his reaction kind of surprises her. She can tell that he’s ruffled by it but he’s so genuinely calm over the matter as if he doesn’t see fit to place her with any blame. She definitely didn’t initiate it but she was still a participant.

They stare into each other for a brief moment before Naoya asks quietly, “So…did you…” He’s dragging his feet at this point, “…did you like it?”

           She wishes she could hide under the covers or hold her breath underwater in the tub, anything to help her escape this question. She looks up to the ceiling and takes a deep breath as she can’t help but feel so strange having this discussion with Naoya while straddling his lap. “If I’m being honest…” His eyes are overflowing with a kind of curiosity, “I think I could have if things had gone differently but overall, not really.” If it weren’t for Toji she might not have experienced much pleasure at all that night but doesn’t want to exactly hash out the details with Naoya.

           “Hmm…” He leans his lips into her collar bone and drags his tongue to her neck before planting a deep and sensual kiss. He hears her breath shudder and smiles while biting his lip before pulling away. He’s not upset with that answer at all aside from the indication that one of the two at least caused her displeasure. “I will say that I don’t find Gojo to be the healthiest or best of influences and I just really hope he didn’t hurt you. I have faith in Toji but not him.” Despite learning this new information, he actually is overcome with relief. This is that small chance he was hoping for, a way to not have to harm Gojo in the process of everything. “If this is the case though then maybe him and I won’t fight after all…” He looks back up to her and feels goosebumps as she runs her nails along his scalp.

           “Now that we have that figured out… it’s settled, we leave together.” She sees his face as he’s hesitant to promise such things. “If I catch wind that you try anything different, I will take matters into my own hands regarding Getou…do not try me.”

           He’s not heard that tone from her before and felt the authority of her statement. He buries his face into her chest as he lets out a muffled and stressed noise “God damn it Elska, why won’t you just let me protect you?”

           She’s trying to keep a straight face as he shakes his head slowly into her breasts, wanting him to know that she’s serious. “I am a warrior princess, ok? Granted I can’t really prove that since I can’t even summon energy here but I still have ways to harm.”

           He chuckles to her words, ‘Warrior princess’ not in doubt but just adjusting to how feisty she can be. “There’s talismans in the walls.” He looks up to her now, feeling his heart skip a beat with how endearing her face is despite his words. “They had to be arranged a certain way but if you look closely along the wall by the tub,” he points in the direction as she turns her body to see, “There’s a small ‘x’ over there. Once I send my fist through that part of wall and remove one of the chaining talismans, they will all become unusable.” He smiles to her with pride as he truly thought most of this through. “If something happens, just do exactly that. I’d already have done it if we had another way to hide your presence…Getou would know immediately otherwise.”

           “What if he notices the talisman from my wings missing?”

           “He shouldn’t fucking be in here to see.” His eyes narrow instantly to the thought. ‘That’s not a bad point though and what if he uses a Titer?’ The uneasiness creeps back through him. “I’m going to try and go see Toji tomorrow though…but that means I won’t be here for a while.” He winces to his words. “I’ll ask Choso if he can come accompany you while I’m away. He was even thinking to bring Itadori over at some point if he could.”

           “I would love to see him! He’s still doing well right?” It’s such weird situation, her and Itadori both being held prisoner by people that genuinely care about them. She almost can’t help but laugh outwardly at the vast strangeness of this all. “I’m glad he has a brother though and Choso seems very nice…although he’s also terrifying.”

           “Choso is very powerful, that’s probably why. He’s capable of so many things too, I’m not even sure that I’m privy to all of his abilities.” He’s proud to say that, he knows his new friend is a damn good one to have on his side. “He’s a good guy though, I promise.” Their smiles meet each other and he sighs as he stares up at her, wanting to touch every part of her. He instead rests his hands on her thighs and attempts to save his sanity.

           “I trust your judgement about him.” She feels his eyes roaming her discretely and smirks at how something as simple as that is enough to rile her up when it comes to him. He knows he’s been caught because he smiles slyly in response before pulling her down towards him, their tongues greeting each other. “Stop teasing me Zenin…”

           “It’s rough, isn’t it?!” His cackles are deep and mixing into moans as they allow themselves a few moments of bliss. It doesn’t take but a couple of seconds before their panting and whining into each other’s mouths. His desire to have her races through him as he feels a moment of weakness and lifts his hips into her. Her gasp made his head spin as all of the blood his body holds seems to flood into his groin. “Baby…” One hand laces into her hair as he tilts her head back to tongue and nip her neck as he strains his own to sit up enough to do so. Her moan from his ministrations brings her submissiveness to the forefront of his mind and he can no longer deny the situation as he grows beneath her. He’s sure she can feel it, he’s not wearing pants and she’s not wearing any underwear. When he nudges his hips again, he can feel how wet she is and he sends his hand between her legs to conduct more. He still holds her hair loosely but has now made it to where their faces are inches apart. He sends one finger into her slowly and watches her expression as he glides it in. He pulls her down further to kiss him as he then sends in a second one. She whimpers into his lips and he feels like he’s going to burst.

           His mind is screaming for them to stop, she could release her pheromones at any time. “Are you ok right now?” He breathlessly whispers in between their kissing. She doesn’t feel overheated nor are her eyes glowing but he wants to make sure. She says nothing but smiles and bites her bottom lip as she sends her own hand down between them to guide herself over him. He felt his eyes widen as he feels her wrap her fingers around his shaft. “Baby…wait…” but she doesn’t. Within seconds she’s slowly sinking into him, never stopping until he was completely seated inside of her. He moans loudly as he’s wanting her desperately but is also frustrated by the situation. She bends down completely and resumes kissing him while slowly rocking her hips, causing him to have to bend his knees so that he didn’t slip out…even though he knows he needs to stop this. “God damn it Elska…” He forces speech through gritted teeth as he wantonly glares at her unable to truly be angry but is still almost agitated. He wraps his hand back into her hair and tilts her chin up again. He kisses her jaw and places his left hand on her right thigh and grabs it roughly, not enough to hurt her but enough for her to know he’s kind of pissed off. She moans disapprovingly when she realizes she’s unable to ride him while he holds her thigh down and struggles to meet eyes with him as he’s still holding her head back.

“You’re going to make me do this and I will regret it when your pheromones release…” He thrusts into her once and she seductively whines. “I want you so fucking badly…” He thrusts into her a second time, only deeper and her cries fill the room as she’s unraveling above him. His hands release her hair and she sends her lips onto his without hesitation. He’s now grabbing both of her thighs as he feels his glare plastered onto his face. His hips push up into her again and she folds over completely on top of him. He hisses through his teeth and pumps her a few more times consecutively as she moans into his neck. “Why do you… do this to me?” He sounds angry and he honestly is but he’s still completely enthralled by them finally wrapping into each other like this again. It hadn’t been very long but he can’t stand to fight their feelings and desires. “You tell me when I need to stop Elska” He grunts as she moans into an agreeance, “Because I’m going to fuck you until you do.”

She lets her voice echo through the room as she just received ravishing verbal confirmation that he was going to give it to her…that which she needs from him. This dominating side of Naoya makes her feel euphoria already. He’s not exactly rough but he’s so passionate and genuine that she just wants to let him have his way with her. She has this belief that if she granted him that access, he would still do it with a level of delicacy. The way he feels to her is beyond words as she wishes she could relay her pleasure to him properly but as he ruts into her, she can only focus on the sensations. Making him mad wasn’t her intention but she finds it extremely difficult to fight off her urges and has to admit that angry lustful Naoya makes her feel even more like this was supposed to be. She sits herself up enough to hover over his face and the look he’s giving her can only be described as furrowed and alluring. “I’m sorry…Naoyaa” She whispers as he continues to send himself inside of her. Her breath is caught as she tries to control her volume but ends up gasping while she feels him repeatedly brush against the spot that has her losing her mind above him. She finds herself digging her nails into his shoulders being unaware until she reflexively curls her fingers and scratches his skin. She’s doing everything in her power to refrain from releasing them but feels it quickly approaching.

He’s learning her body more and more every day. He quickly became determined to make this as fast as possible, hoping they can reach the heights together but is prepared to have to stop at any given second. Her body has always been his guide, he feels like it’s as if she’s a language he can easily speak.  As her eyes flutter above him while she’s contracting around him, he curses the day that anyone ever stands between them again. He’s surprised that they’ve been able to make it for this long without triggering the release but it seems like the moment he found solace in that he notices a slight trace of the scent. He immediately lifts her off of him so that he can remove the biggest contributing factor, himself.

He expects her to pout but she’s a smiling mess as she leans down to kiss him deeply. A throaty groan leaves him as he feels her arms to see if she’s physically hot. She’s warm but it could be from their activities. He’s lying flat with his hands now over his eyes as he tries to regulate his heart. “Baby…you can’t do that anym-…” He feels warmth engulfing his tip and sliding down his shaft. He whines as he thinks she’s climbed back over him but realizes that her weight isn’t there. ‘Wait…is she..?’ His eyes dart open to see her lids as she’s swallows him down. He feels excitement as she creates suction that results to a small popping noise as she raises her head up again. She’s bent over on the side of him with her backside high in the air, he can’t help but marvel at appealing sight.

“What can’t I do Naoya?” Her voice is slightly broken as she lowly whispers into him, her devious eyes meeting his as she catches her breath.

“I don’t believe I said anything.” He smirks as he moves to sit up more, wanting to witness this new first for them as he realizes why she was smiling after he pulled out. He grins too seeing how eager she is to do this. She drops her head back down and it sends his head upwards. He shifts his weight to one arm so he can reach out and touch her. Her eyes lock onto his as she hollows her cheeks and he feels himself inching closer. He tries to grab her hair to pull from her face but he fumbles with strands until she assists him. He doesn’t want to add pressure to her, he just wants to see. He’s moaning relentlessly now as she bobs over him, the sounds created from her sucking adding to his experience as he still can’t help but feel she’s absolutely stunning. He feels the tension rising within, the warmth from his own end, “B…baby…I’m about to…” She quickens her pace and he can’t do anything but sink back into the pillows while his body involuntarily flinches as he’s unloading all of his frustrations into her mouth.  He whimpers as she slowly brings her lips back up and lets him flop onto his stomach. Through heaving he asks her if she finished at all and she shakes her head, “This wasn’t about me.” And smiles, “You feel really good regardless so don’t worry.” Her eyes are soft as they gloss over his body and she wipes her face clean.

As she collects air in the form of gasps, she looks back to Naoya who finally looks a little livelier and not so weighted down, “You needed that…” Her hand caresses his left thigh while she breathes heavily “…you were so stressed out and I know I’m the cause.” He’s motioning her to come closer so she crawls up towards him.

“You specifically do not stress me out.” He pulls her by the back of the head so he can kiss her deeply. He brings his fingers underneath her chin to lift her gaze up more towards him, “It’s actually everyone else.” They both breathlessly snicker as she curls back into him and lays her head on his heaving chest. They have to fight the covers underneath them before they can be pulled over top but once they do, they settle back into each other. “I do feel better though,” his heart threatens to leap from under his ribs as he realizes that was probably her intention all along. The smile painfully fixed to his face widens as he feels the actual love from a woman, from her. “Thank you...” He hums as he notices they’re in the same position as when she was sleeping but his heart feels bigger and the amount of anxiety he has about the days to come seems significantly smaller.

“I have no idea what awaits us outside of this room…” Reality is rearing it’s ugly head as she feels she must address this, “…but I can no longer ignore what you are to me Naoya.” The left hand she has placed on his chest balls up, “And I can’t ignore the fact that I’m with Sati either…and what we’ve been doing, how I can’t keep away from you….” She takes a deep breath as she calms the unsteady emotions that were rising within her. “And Toji…Toji is very dear to me. We’re bonded.” She wishes she would have remained silent, fearing that she just ruined the beautiful moment they were sharing. His hand rests over her fist now and she watches his hand fumble to open hers so their fingers can interlock.

“I was already aware of things being complicated princess, don’t work yourself up so much over that.” He brings her fingers to his lips to kiss them. “I’m certainly not thrilled with the predicament but I knew they both worked themselves into your life.” He brings his left hand to brush through her hair, “That’s why it was so important for you to know that you have a choice with me. I will not manipulate you.”

“I believe you when you say that.” She’s understanding exactly how many different ways he makes her feel amazing. “You really are a good man, Naoya…” It seems like no matter what the topic, they can strive through it all, like they’re indestructible together. “We’ve had an interesting past but there’s something about all of this, I need you in my future as well.” She lifts her head up to see him and he’s already looking down to her. She feels so insecure as his gaze seems so piercing looking over her while he’s lost in thought.

Just a week ago he was cloaked in distress worrying about if she would even really consider him, especially under these circumstances. Mere days ago, his heart fractured when he thought he was going to lose her for good after Getou’s vile attack. Minutes ago, they were direly experiencing each other and upon hearing her say all of that, in this exact moment he knew he was supposed to be with her.

“And I will be there.” He’s feeling so many different things that he doesn’t even know where begin. “Be in mine as well?” She smiles, nods and says yes to this and he can’t help but to reach out to her to bring her back into him. He’s now revamped and possibly even somewhat looking forward to his discussion tomorrow. Things definitely don’t seem as bleak as his relief from their honest exchanges allow him feel more at ease.

“Everything will work out.” He rubs her shoulder with a new armor of confidence, “And if not, we’ll fucking make it.”

Next Chapter (25) >>

Chapter List

<< Previous Chapter

[hold-your-applause]

My wedding anniversary was a few days ago, and I've been ruminating on the topic of domesticity and what it means to me ever since. Allow me to remove some mystery and show you how it looks to me

Earwax

It had been his day off when Daichi woke up unable to hear out of his left ear. When he lifted his head off the pillow, he felt an unfamiliar tight pressure that left his head pulsing. He told you immediately of his distress, and even the ibuprofen didn't give him any relief.

"Do you think it could be an infection?" You had asked. You couldn't think of a reason why he would have one, but it was the first thing that came to your mind.

"No, I don't think so. It just feels like something is in there. Like some kind of blockage." He said. His head was in his hands, trying not to move too much to avoid unnecessary throbbing.

That was all you needed to hear to know what was wrong. You smiled to yourself.

"I think I know what the problem is. You go lay down, I need to grab something from the store, and when I get back we can take care of it ourselves. You just hang tight until then."

Trusting you implicitly, he nodded before carefully heading back to the bedroom to do as you said, and possibly try to get a little more rest.

You weren't sure if he remembered you telling him the story of what had happened when you were younger; with eight years of marriage under your belt, you were bound to lose track of some things you said to each other. But it sounded so familiar, and it would be harmless to try, so you got properly dressed and headed to pharmacy down the street.

You weren't gone too long, and when you got back, he had just barely begun to doze off. You unloaded your supplies and started working on the special mixture, following the directions on the box. When you moved to the bedroom, you smiled as you saw him lying on his side, breathing easy despite the state he was in.

"Daichi."

No response.

He was laying on his right side, meaning that his congested ear was away from the pillow. He couldn't hear you.

"Daichi!"

He stirred, lifting his head with a wince.

"Yeah?"

You moved closer to him, gently resting your hand on his shoulder to help him move onto his back. You held up the cup you had brought with you.

"I'm back, and I need to you do what I tell you."

He eyed the cup, still a bit bleary from pain and from his short-lived nap.

"What is it?"

You smiled.

"I think you've got a bunch of wax built up in there. So I'm going to put this solution in your ear, and we're going to wait a few minutes before we put some water in there to drain it out. Sound good?"

His nose crinkled at the thought, but he was willing to take your suggestion if it meant the pain would stop, no matter how gross it was.

"Yeah, I think so. What do you need me to do?"

You rubbed his shoulder in an attempt to help him relax a bit more. "I just need you to lie the way you were a minute ago. Then I'll set a timer and come get you when it's time to get up. Just let me do the work, okay?"

He nodded tiredly, sluggishly moving back into his previous position. You had a habit of being right about most things, so he learned not to fight you when you got an idea in your head.

You were also very good at taking care of him.

You took the eyedropper you had grabbed while you were out and filled it with some of the solution. Your free hand found its way into his hair, both to stabilize yourself and to help soothe him. It seemed to work; you felt him relax. You rested your arm on his shoulder, hovering the dropper over his ear before dropping one, two, three, four, five drops straight into his ear canal.

He jumped before you could pull away, surprising you, and he let out a strange noise of discomfort.

"What's wrong?" You asked, worried you had somehow hurt him.

"I can hear it working. It sounds weird, and feels weirder."

You blinked, then chuckled with a shake of your head. "Just stay put and I'll come get you. Hopefully this will fix everything."

He grabbed your wrist before you could get away, gently pressing a kiss to your knuckles in a silent thank you before letting you slip out to prepare the rest of the treatment.

You got a towel, debating on bringing a second one for the inevitable mess this would make, but decided you could just clean up while he did a second round if he needed it. You placed it next to the sink and filled a new cup full of hot water. By the time the timer would go off, the water would be warm, and usable for the next step. You opened one last box, thinking to yourself that he might not want your help for this part, if he was willing to do it at all.

Before you knew it, the five minutes were up, and you headed back in to fetch him.

"Hey, you. How do you feel?"

He lifted his head, seeming to perk up.

"I can hear you, for one. So I'd say pretty good."

You chuckled.

"Good. Come on, one more part and then we're hopefully done."

You led him to the bathroom, noting that he didn't seem to be as miserable as when he woke up this morning. If he was able to hear, that probably meant that some of the pressure was released, and his head wasn't hurting anymore.

Once again, you had been right on the money.

He took a look at your set up before turning to you.

"What next?"

You clasped your hands together.

"We're going to use an ear syringe to put water in your ear and drain everything out."

He blanched, shoulders tensing.

"I can do it for you, or you can do it yourself. It's up to you. Which one do you think will be better?"

He slumped. Clearly, he didn't want to do it at all, but the first step had already given him some relief, so you had been right about what was wrong. He had no choice but to go through with the rest of the process.

"I can do it. You've done enough for me so far, I can handle the rest."

You smiled as he ran an appreciative hand through your hair before picking up the strange looking syringe.

"So I just put it in my ear and go? That's it?"

You nodded.

"That's it. Simple as that."

He made a face, but filled the syringe with water before turning to look in the mirror to make sure he was doing it properly. He didn't bother asking you to leave; he knew you wanted to make sure everything was alright.

He breathed out, sticking the syringe in his ear. He counted to three in his head before pushing slowly on the plunger, yelping in surprise and moving to lean over the sink as the water leaked out of his ear. He finished pushing all the water out and pulled the syringe out, and when he felt the water finish draining, he looked down and saw something in the sink.

It seemed to be working.

He turned and smiled at you.

"One more time, I think." He said, and loaded it up again. It was an odd thing to be excited about, but considering how poorly he was doing this morning, he couldn't really help himself.

You chuckled, leaning in the doorway as you watched him do it again, watching him hovering over the sink as the water dripped out of his ear, and this time he let out a triumphant shout when he could suddenly hear clearly. He grabbed the towel and wiped his ear, pulling back to look at it before gagging.

"Eugh, gross! Look at this!" He held up the light blue towel to show you the large smear of dark brown and red from the impacted wax.

"Ew, put that down! I need to wash it." You laughed.

"No, I'm not done." He grinned, using a clean corner to dry the inside of his ear. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue."

You smiled, taking the towel from him. "Always."

It's not something you notice while it's happening. It's the type of thing that slaps you in the face one day out of nowhere.

Intimacy is more than just passion; it's vulnerability on levels unspoken. To allow someone to see every side of you, no matter how unflattering it might be. It's allowing someone to see you angry, in pain, at rock bottom.

It's fear, it's doubt, it's grief.

It's disgusting.

And it's allowing someone to hold you through all of it.

It's waiting 16 hours in a hospital waiting room while he gets his appendix removed.

It's him leaving work early when cramps leave you stuck in bed.

It's cleaning the blood off his clothes when he has a nasty fall that scars his knees.

It's him teasing you when you're high on allergy medication.

It's earwax.

[mournersrp]

𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒,  𝐍𝐎  𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐒.  once  again,  thank  you  all  so  much  for  the  dedication  put  into  applying  here  at  mourners  ;  it’s  truly  been  a  pleasure  reading  all  of  your  applications  &.  i’m  tremendously  grateful.  turning  down  an  application  is  never  an  easy  process,  and  there  were  many  instances  in  which  i  wished  i  could  permit  a  duplicate  upon  the  dash.  with  that  said,  i’m  looking  forward  to  both  speaking  &.  plotting  with  each  of  you  tomorrow  (  bear  with  me  while  all  pages  &.  skeletons  are  properly  updated  )  —  welcome  to  mourners  !  please  review  our  checklist  and  report  to  the  barrel  boss  within  the  next  twenty - four  hours.

𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐉  𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐅𝐀

VENLI  !  choosing  an  inej  for  mourners  was  ...  a  feat,  as  each  applicant  displayed  an  exquisite  version  of  our  wraith,  but  what  swayed  me  in  the  end  was  the  balance  you  kept  between  who  she  was  while  with  the  dregs  &.  who  she  became  without  them.  the  details  surrounding  intricacies  of  her  newfound  crewmen  (  &.  her  family  post  their  reunion  )  in  which  helped  shape  the  woman  outside  the  barrel  were  lovely  to  read  (  her  thoughts  on  rilar,  in  particular,  were  both  authentic  &.  entertaining  )  ;  i  could  picture  the  scenes  in  earnest.  i  also  loved  the  mention  of  how  she  came  to  understand  kaz’s  own  vices  after  having  to  face  her  own  whilst  sailing  the  seas.  thank  you  for  taking  the  time  to  apply  —  i  look  forward  to  seeing  your  inej  in  play.

𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐘

NOAH  !  the  bit  about  kaz  disproving  jesper’s  exaggerated  stories  had  me  rolling,  and  your  headcanon  regarding  jesper  being  an  absolute  catastrophe  in  the  kitchen  (  gordon  ramsay  is  unamused  )  ?  you  wrote  it  best:  ‘  tall,  lanky,  restless,  distracted,  easily  bored.  ’.  incredibly  handsome,  but  certainly  cannot  focus  on  a  single  recipe.  on  a  serious  note  (  despite  the  consistent,  comical  little  tidbits  which  made  your  application  such  a  pleasure  to  read  ),  the  grasp  upon  his  character  you  presented  between  struggling  with  guilt  &.  penitence  was  flawless,  and  something  i  look  forward  to  seeing  explored  on  the  dash.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐒  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑

ABBY  !  there  was  so  much  i  loved  about  your  matthias,  but  i  especially  appreciated  how  you  incorporated  the  other  skeletons  into  interpersonal  plot  points  for  him.  the  attention  to  detail  within  matthias’  headspace  when  ruminating  over  them  was  absolutely  believable  to  his  character.  the  vast  detail  you  supplied  for  each  personality  trait  &.  headcanons  were  so  indicative  of  who  he’s  been  and  who  he’s  become  (  or  trying  so  desperately  to  be  ).  i’m  interested  to  see  his  reactions  to  henrik’s  next  moves  just  as  much  as  you,  and  where  our  drüskelle  will  stand,  then.  oh,  and  abby,  what’s  the  first  rule  about  fight  club  ?

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐀  𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐊

EMILY  !  ah,  yes,  nina,  our  waffle  queen.  her  past,  present  &.  sought  future  were  crafted  so  wonderfully  within  your  application  ;  i  particularly  loved  your  headcanon  dealing  with  her  time  as  a  heartrender,  where  nina  stubbornly  wished  to  understand  the  small  science  whilst  her  peers  were  occupied  with  morozov’s  manuals.  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  read  her  thoughts  on  the  grisha  she’s  become,  the  label  of  corpsewitch  adhered  to  her,  the  burden  it  has  also  set  upon  her  as  ‘  self - appointed  grisha  guardian  angel  ’.  &.  i  do  hope  you  get  to  share  those  plot  ideas  with  some  of  our  fellow  grisha,  as  your  points  revolving  around  them  were  so  well  thought  out  and  executed.  also,  you’re  right  —  kaz  gets  way  too  into  the  costumes.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍

HARPER  !  i’m  ready  to  interact  with  felix.  it’s  no  wonder  kaz  made  him  a  deal  —  tragedy  maketh  man,  and  if  there’s  one  thing  dirtyhands  can  comprehend,  it’s  being  dealt  a  bad  hand.  i  love  the  idea  in  which  you  set  forth  that  he’s  lived  his  life  in  such  silence,  that  there  are  those  who  have  known  him  for  several  years,  but  haven’t  heard  even  a  whisper  slip  from  his  tongue.  the  way  you  transitioned  felix’s  headcanons  into  the  pivotal  moments  of  his  life  made  it  a  blast  to  read  through  (  especially  during  the  deal,  where  we  got  a  good  look  at  the  first  devil  in  his  life  —  do  old  habits  die  hard,  in  the  end  ?  ).  once  again,  welcome  to  mourners  (  i  foresee  much  plotting  in  our  future  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

ALEX  !  we  do  love  a  good  destroyer,  and  marlaina  is  no  exception.  she  knows  her  power  &.  is  not  afraid  to  unleash  it,  a  trait  that,  while  prized  within  the  dregs,  can  also  become  a  nightmare.  after  all,  control  &.  patience  can  be  key.  the  idea  that  she’s  particularly  skilled  at  cards  (  as  well  as  banned  from  most  gambling  halls  )  was  a  fresh  addition  to  the  skeleton,  as  i  quite  love  the  idea  of  our  hellish  heartrender  pushing  her  luck  at  the  crow’s  club  (  when  has  that  ever  ended  badly  ?  ).  i  agree  it’d  be  an  interesting  concept  to  see  her  have  another  grisha  under  her  wing,  especially  when  she  herself  is  always  so  keen  to  detonate  —  her  desertion,  however,  will  surely  catch  up  with  her  soon.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

MARGOT  !  you  have  spun  the  impostor  into  an  entirely  new  medium,  and  produced  a  character  that  went  beyond  the  skeleton  provided.  ‘  prison  changed  you.  for  the  better.  you’re  more  fun  now,  sociable  and  loud,  like  a  cannon,  truly.  so  loud  everybody  jumps  when  you  burst  into  a  room.  ’  one  of  the  first  few  lines  in  your  application,  but  what  immediately  captured  my  attention  and  had  me  buckle  in.  i  never  considered  that  the  target  in  which  damned  the  impostor  to  the  depths  of  hellgate  could  be  family,  but  now  i’d  not  have  it  any  other  way.  aris  is  a  world  class  actor  &.  i  cannot  wait  to  help  you  set  the  stage  (  &.  maybe  watch  it  burn  in  the  process  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓

HENRY  JUDE  !  i  wasn’t  sure  if  there’d  be  a  lieutenant  at  the  start  of  mourners,  so  i  was  absolutely  thrilled  when  receiving  your  application.  an  important  player  with  a  plethora  of  potential  directions  in  which  they  could  shift,  and  i  can’t  wait  to  see  if  jozef's  includes  the  checkmate.  the  craftsmanship  in  your  design  for  him  was  extraordinarily  executed  and  quite  poetic  ;  he  was  absolute  pleasure  to  study.  i  look  forward  to  plotting  with  you  as  well  as  discussing  the  similarities  between  our  broken,  disastrous  muses  (  also,  i  can’t  believe  we’re  both  aleksander  morozova  apologists  ).

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐑

ARACELIA  !  i’m  in  love  with  anya.  you  put  so  much  adoration  into  her  creation  &.  i  cannot  wait  to  see  it  bleed  onto  the  dash  (  you  make  it  so  hard  to  loathe  a  traitor  ).  her  personality  is  so  believably  balanced,  and  more  than  what  my  own  ideas  surrounding  the  role  initially  included.  the  birth  of  a  monster,  the  birth  of  a  tailor  &.  the  birth  of  an  illusionist  were  impeccably  composed  stories  which  sewed  her  into  existence.  you’ve  forged  a  character  who  is  the  definition  of  ‘  so  much  more  than  meets  the  eye  ’  &.  i  am  thrilled  to  have  gotten  the  first  look  at  our  scarab  queen.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐑  |  EM  !  i  absolutely  love  the  concept  of  aleni  (  as  kaz  would  say:  she’s  a  particularly  good  investment  ).  with  grisha  within  his  crew,  what  better  for  an  amplifier  to  do  ?  i  was  wondering  if  i’d  see  an  application  involving  ketterdam’s  university,  and  was  immediately  thrilled  when  seeing  it  pulled  into  aleni’s  history.  the  idea  that  she  loved  ketterdam  in  any  capacity  is  not  something  you  tend  to  hear  (  it  died  quickly,  of  course  ),  which  was  a  unique  mention  within  your  wildcard.  &.  we  will  definitely  have  to  discuss  aleni  mistakenly  having  amplified  the  inferni  at  fifth  harbour,  as  i  believe  you’ve  proposed  an  excellent  idea.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑  |  IRIS  !  to  be  introduced  to  valdis  by  way  of  your  character  summary  was  a  treat.  i  absolutely  loved  the  way  it  was  written,  and  immediately  knew  why  she’d  made  it  into  the  dregs  (  truly  obsessed  with  her  being  the  daughter  of  a  pirate  captain  ).  though  she  managed  to  escape  her  original  work  with  braam,  it  seems,  for  a  time,  she  had  let  history  repeat  itself,  but  with  perhaps  a  better  boss  than  originally  at  the  helm.  &.  with  a  new  debt  paid,  how  fast  till  old  loyalty  dies  ?  

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑  |  REE  !  it’s  all  in  the  bones.  a  fjerdan  fleeing  for  discovering  themselves  grisha  is  always  something  i’ve  wanted  to  see  explored,  and  now  i  have  a  front  row  seat.  to  be  ostracized  by  their  own  &.  then  by  a  place  of  presumed  sanctuary  can  induce  a  particular  psychosis  within  the  most  stable  of  individuals,  and  we  do  love  sigyn’s  particular  brand  of  crazy.  you’ve  provided  an  entirely  fresh  take  on  what  is  known  of  a  grisha  healer,  and  how  such  gifts  may  be  construed  when  mixed  with  the  beliefs  of  fjerda.  thank  you  for  delivering  such  a  spellbinding  character  to  mourners.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋  |  ALI  !  with  a  vast  cast  of  varying  characters,  i  was  thrilled  to  see  that  senna  originally  came  from  wealth  (  it’s  a  different  path  to  weave,  one  that  usually  draws  more  enemies  than  friends  ).  your  application  was  so  appreciated,  providing  a  role  in  which  started  from  the  top  &.  careened  to  the  bottom  (  i  do  hope  to  see  senna  &.  wylan  swap  stories,  especially  where  senna  has  made  strides  to  escape  the  tread  of  their  father  ).  you  call  it  their  grand  adventure,  and  in  all  its  sinister  glory,  it’s  only  just  begun.  welcome  to  mourners  ;  let’s  plot  some  blackmail.

𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑  //  𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀  𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑  |  NINA  !  both  applications  for  our  resident  tidemaker  spun  tales  which  were  a  pleasure  to  traverse,  and  i  would  have  loved  to  have  both  turning  the  tides  for  the  dregs.  manu  belongs  in  a  novel,  with  all  the  devotion  you’ve  clearly  put  into  him.  &.  i  am  ecstatic  to  at  least  have  him  for  mourners’  chapters.  when  you  wrote  ‘  for  the  wanderer  was  nothing  if  not  a  mismatched  family,  made  with  kerch  purple,  fjerdan  ice,  kaelish  fire,  zemeni  courage  and  ravkan  boldness  ’,  i  found  myself  able  to  refer  to  it  whilst  reading  through  the  life  authored  for  him,  able  to  pick  out  these  particular  qualities  on  his  way  to  the  barrel.  &.  hopefully,  he’ll  reach  the  surface  soon.

[kimchi-kitty]

Lingerie 》BLOCK B《

{13+, mentions of NSFW}

Request: 

Anon: can I request a reactions thingy from the block B boys, when they find the lingerie you bought to surprise them with in your closet? if you don’t want to it’s okay i totally understand!!!

sure lovely! that’s a cute prompt!✨

PRETENSE: Your boyfriend is getting home in a few days, and you've missed him (in more ways than one) so you go out to the shop and pick up a set of lacey lingerie to surprise him with, later leaving the bag on the floor next to your closet. You haven't heard that a stop of the tour was cancelled, and the boys will be home a day early. Your love, also trying to surprise, doesn't let you know he's already off the plane, so you head out with your girlfriends. When he lets himself into your apartment you're nowhere to be seen.

Zico:

Jiho walked into your bedroom to find you, presuming you were napping, but instead found your bed made and your purse gone. You were out. His thoughts were cut short as his eyes caught an luxurious looking black bag on the floor. He stepped closer and looked in the top, surprised to find a set of beautiful black lace panties and accompanying bra. He reached into the bag to examine them more closely and chuckled to himself at what a naughty girl you were. He grabbed the bag and went to wait on your couch.

You arrived home half an hour later, expecting an empty apartment, but instead opening your door just to lay eyes on your boyfriend, confidently laid back on your couch. Before you could even jump, he met your eyes and spoke. “Y/N, if I knew you’d miss me to this point”, he said, throwing a glance at the bag, ”I might need to go on tour more often.” He stood, swiftly and met you as you approached him, wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulled you into a kiss. You wrapped yourself around him, shock melting into joy, until he pulled away to whisper sternly into your ear. “Now be a good girl and go put these on for me.”

Taeil:

Taeil drifted into your apartment grinning ear to ear, ready to greet the love of his life after being apart for two months. When he saw your favorite shoes missing from the mat, he realized that you were out and huffed, realizing he’d have to wait a little longer. He was going to use the bathroom, which was accessible only by way of your bedroom, when he spotted a shiny black bag on the floor, tufts of tissue paper sticking out the top. He took a peak, expecting a new perfume or pair of shoes, but instead found a lingerie set. He put the bag back, assuming he was not meant to know about it, and returned to wait for you in the living room. When you came home you rejoiced in each others arms and cuddled on the couch until sunset, when things turned friskier. You removed yourself from your perch on his lap and told him to meet you in your bedroom in five minutes. Hurriedly, you peeled off your clothes and changed into the set, ran a brush through your hair and reapplied a spritz of your signature perfume. Taeil knocked at the door and you beckoned him enter. When he opened the door and saw you standing there, he didn’t need to fake his surprise. Sure, he knew the lingerie existed, but he could never have anticipated it to look quite so good on you. “Jagi”, his mouth hung open, “I didn’t know it was possible to be more beautiful than you already were.”

Jaehyo:

Jaehyo was all smiles when he strolled into your apartment, ready to smother the girl of his dreams in affection. His mood fell slightly when he realized your absence. Oh well. He went to use your bedroom mirror to ensure he looked perfect for when you returned. Slight vanity was a trait you had always had in common. In the mirror he spotted a black bag behind him. It looked like the height of luxury- glossy black, with ribbon handles and filled with white tissue paper. It didn’t strike him as something you’d buy for yourself. He inspected its contents to find extremely sexy underwear. His mind went to the worst place possible. Were you having an affair? He physically shook the thought out of his head and reassured himself that you would never do something like that. But... he had been away for a while. Could he blame you for finding a replacement? He considered it a thought better not ruminated, finished fixing his hair, and went to the kitchen to prepare a romantic dinner for you.

As you walked in he was at your counter, dicing an onion. You were throughly surprised, and incredibly excited, running up to cover Jaehyo in kisses and love. He returned the affection, then told you to take a seat at the counter and poured you a drink before returning to cooking. After a few minutes of casual conversation, he offhandedly broached the subject that had still been making him uneasy. “I found those new underwear in your room. For someone, or from someone special?” He didn’t turn to look at you when he spoke. Him going through your things might have been more cause for concern if you hadn’t been together several years. You brushed it off. “Jagiya, of course they’re for someone special! I couldn’t wait to be with you when you returned.” you said, beaming at him. His worries melted instantly. “Oh. Y/N, I’m so sorry I jumped to conclusions. I just couldn’t imagine my return being a big enough event to warrant something quite so elegant.” He shook his head. “You’re too good to me, jagi. I can’t wait to see you in them.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and returned to cooking. 

U-Kwon:

Yukwon stepped into your shared apartment, immediately greeted by the dog you coparented, an excitable shiba inu. Her barking would always alert you that someone was there, so when you didn't show within a minute, he knew you were out. He decided to change his clothes and headed into the bedroom; as he pulled his shirt over his head he saw a small black bag on the chair in the corner. Immediately assuming it was a present for him, he went to take a peak. It was indeed a present for him, in a way. He pulled out a set of black lace lingerie and immediately had a devilish idea. He made your bed and laid the set out neatly before plucking a rose off the bush you had growing on the balcony and sprinkling the petals over your bed. On a piece of cardstock he wrote "I'm home princess, now put these on for me like a good girl. -Y" He folded the paper and placed it on top of the bra, finished getting dressed (opting for something a bit more stylish than he had originally planned ) and headed out. You came home to the apartment exactly how you expected to find it, until you reached the bedroom- your heart skipping a beat as you walked through the door. The only other person with a key was yukwon, which meant he must be back early! You were startled, but soon blushing when you saw the bed sprinkled in rose petals, the set you had picked out laying there. You were a tiny bit disappointed; you were planning on doing the surprising, not the other way around! You picked up and read the note, your heart fluttering. You quickly undressed and pulled the lingerie on (the straps were a bit confusing). By the time you finished refreshing your makeup, a knock befell the door. You pulled on your light silk robe, just in case it wasn't your boyfriend. You pulled open the door, only to find the love of your life, the one and only Kim Yukwon standing before you with a giant smile and a bottle of champagne. You quickly pulled him into a kiss, nudging the door closed behind him. He set the bottle down and picked you up, pressing kisses to your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed, slipping off your robe. He took a step back and couldn't help but stare, his mouth hanging slightly open. He met your eyes and whispered, more to himself than to you "I am the luckiest man in the world." 

B-Bomb:

Minhyuk wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss his girl. He had missed you so much on tour that he'd even started jotting down lyrics about how much his heart ached for you. That said, when he landed at incheon, his first stop was your apartment. He walked in without knocking, your door not locked (he always chastised you for leaving it unlocked, worried for your safety despite you living in a nice area). He looked around, but found no girlfriend to embraced. What he did find were a brand new set of lace underwear, tags still on, sitting on your dresser. As he inspected the fabric, her caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Yikes. He was dressed in sweatpants and a t shirt, his hair a mess from sleeping on the flight and his chin slightly stubbly. He decided that you were clearly putting in effort for him, so he should return the favor. He pulled out a change of clothes from the drawer you had deemed his, and went to clean up. When you arived home, you immediately noticed something that sent chills up your spine. The shower was running. You would normally assume it was minhyuk, but he was supposed to be in Japan today. You nervously put your bag down, and tiptoed to the bathroom. You approached the shower and ripped back the curtain, slightly spooking min, who quickly regained his composure and shot you a very cheeky smirk. "I didn't expect you home so soon" he said, still smiling, the water running over him. You rolled your eyes and sighed "I could say the same about you. You really gave me a spook, but I'm glad to see you Jagi. Welcome home." You went to close the curtain, but min quickly grabbed your wrist. "I could use some help in here." He winked.

Kyung:

Park Kyung was absolutely exhausted. A 10 hour plane ride will do that to a guy. The only thing in his mind before sleep was you. He dragged himself up to your apartment and let himself in, quickly realizing your absence. His mind quickly switched to priority two, and he went to make use of your bed until you got home. As he made his way into your room, his plans were interrupted by a sudden curiosity about a expensive looking bag sitting on the chair in the corner of your room. He knew you liked nice clothes, sure, but this bag was nothing like the ones from the brands you preferred. After all, he’d bought plenty of them for you. He walked over and took a peak into the top, instantly intrigued by the garments. Holding the fabric in his hands, the exhaustion was quickly placed by another feeling - arousal. Without you to satisfy his needs, he decided to have some fun with you via text. Pretending he was still on the plane, he sent you a slew of salacious messages, detailing how he would ravage you when he got the chance. By the time you returned home, planning to satisfy yourself, the two of you were throughly excited. Your excitement reached a new level, however, when you found your boyfriend not on a plane, but laying on your bed. He ignored your gasp and met your eye. “Good, you’re home. I was beginning to get desperate~” 

P.O:

Pyo Jihoon had quickly realized that leather pants were not proper attire for a long flight, his legs sweaty and uncomfortable. This considered, when he went to your apartment straight from the airport- only to find you weren't home- he breathed a sigh of relief remembering all the clothes he had here. (He'd move in with you in a heartbeat, it just wasn't practical.) He strolled into your bedroom and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants, laying them out on your bed. As he peeled off the leather his eye caught a posh looking bag in the corner of your room. He finished changing and peeked into the bag, pulling out an underwear set far sexier than anything he'd seen you in before. He was somewhat glad you weren't there, because maintaining his composure was not something jihoon was known for. He blushed vigorously and let out a small laugh, but his reaction changed as soon as he began picturing what the fabric would like like hugging your hips and breasts. He was determined to get you into them by the end of the night, and set of planning just how he would. Ever the romantic, he decided to cook you a beautiful dinner before he tried to get you into bed. When you walked up to your door and smelled something cooking you panicked. Had you left the stove on??? You rushed in to find a surprise much more pleasant than your stove on- though it was in fact on, in use by your beautiful lanky boyfriend. As soon as he saw you walk in you he set the spatula down and ran over to scoop you up into an intense hug. "JAGI!! I missed you so much! I'm making beef bulgogi, your favorite!" He eventually put you down and gestured for you to sit at the table, which he had set and arranged candles on. A few moments later he set a beautiful plate down in front of you, and took his seat opposite. You chatted over your meal, his eyes brimming with love everytime he looked up from his plate. As you finished and set your chopsticks down, he rose from his seat and came to stand behind you, learning down to whisper in your ear in his deepest voice, sending shivers down your spine. "Now, would you be so kind as to be my dessert?"

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass Is Creative, Bold, and Flawed Horror

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This review contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. Don’t you dare even think of reading one word before you watch.

Mike Flanagan, the maestro of horror responsible for Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and this spooky season’s entry, Midnight Mass, has always taken a novelistic approach to storytelling. 

The man knows his way around a jump-scare, sure, but he excels in crafting deep, rewarding themes, richly drawn characters, and ornate dialogue. It’s what has drawn him toward adapting novels from horror legends like Shirley Jackson, Henry James, and Stephen King. And it’s perhaps what’s even given him the courage to take on a task as bold as the follow-up to The Shining in Doctor Sleep. Flanagan isn’t afraid of weight; he trafficks in it like a young Jay-Z.

Midnight Mass is his latest weighty endeavor, but unlike its predecessors, it nearly buckles under the heft of its ambitions. Midnight Mass is a story about faith, death, remorse, forgiveness, and human existence itself. It grapples with the biggest of questions, the most unsolvable of mysteries. It ruminates on these topics with the grace of a passionate scholar and the repetitive, faux profundity of a dorm room stoner alike. There are long stretches of the series, particularly in early episodes, where you’ll forget that you’re watching a horror series altogether. It is both a feature and a bug. It will either keep you glued to your TV or turn you off completely.

Midnight Mass takes place on the fictional Crockett Island, a thinly populated, vaguely New England community impacted by an oil spill that decimated its once profitable fishing industry. Most of the townsfolk are Catholic and awaiting the return of their elderly priest, Monsignor Pruitt, who traveled abroad on a missionary trip to see the Holy Land. While they wait, Riley Flynn (Zack Gilford) returns via ferry after a four-year prison stint he served for murdering a young girl in a drunk driving accident. 

Also newly arriving in the “Crock Pot “ is Father Paul (Hamish Linklater), a mysterious young priest who arrives to temporarily shepherd St. Patrick’s church in Monsignor Pruitt’s absence. As Riley reacquaints himself with his family and the town he left behind, while simultaneously trying to overcome his feelings of guilt, lack of direction, and loss of faith, he reconnects with Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), another former resident recently returned to Crockett after the dissolution of an abusive relationship.

Like Flanagan’s previous Netflix series, the supernatural terror on display almost comes second to the real-life horrors showcased in Midnight Mass. Every night when Riley goes to sleep, he sees the blood-coated face of his young victim lying on the pavement. The town drunk is continually forced to confront the young girl that he paralyzed in a hunting accident. Erin wakes one day to find the child she is pregnant with missing from her womb. A father is forced to confront the resentment he feels for his wayward son. A daughter watches her mother’s mind deteriorate. These stories are human and can be painfully relatable and Flanagan mines them for his most emotional and scarring material. While more traditional monsters and gore earn scares in later installments, Flanagan keeps the audience uneasy early on with everyday horror stories that can keep you awake at night in a way that vampires never could.

Ah yes, the vampire. Or should we call him the “Angel?” Midnight Mass’s big reveal is that Father Paul is really a de-aged Monsignor Pruitt who encountered a vampiric creature while on his pilgrimage. He is given eternal life, but cursed with a hunger for blood and the inability to withstand sunlight. Pruitt brings the Angel back with him to Crockett, mostly because he wants a second chance with the dying woman that he fathered a child with many years ago. If he can give divinity to the entirety of Crockett in the process, then that’s a plus. 

It’s a fantastic concept — a holy man that interprets vampirism as divine intervention, playing upon the more horrific elements of the bible and really digging into the “drink my blood, eat my flesh” aspect of Jesus’ last supper — but it is slow to reach its chaotic conclusion. By episode four it’s clear to the audience that Pruitt is using his blood to heal folks like Leeza (Annarah Cymone), but you’re forced to watch as the characters catch-up. 

Midnight Mass is thankfully only seven episodes, but really feels like it could have hit its main story beats in four. That’s in part due to the mountain of monologues delivered by every character. They’re mostly beautifully written and well-acted, but when they come one after the other after the other, they begin to have a numbing quality. That’s why Riley’s portion of the story works so well. Riley spends his time confronting his faith and guilty conscience in one-on-one AA meetings with Father Paul, some of Midnight Mass’s most arresting scenes. 

Midnight Mass is bursting with ideas that get in the way of telling a simple creature feature, some of them more intriguing than others. Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli) grapples with being what appears to be the only non-Christian on the island as his Muslim son warms to the idea of exploring Christianity. It’s a plotline that could sustain its own series and ultimately ends in a moving way. That said, the story between Joe and Leeza never actually pays off in a way that warrants Leeza’s showstopping speech about forgiveness. Also, the last-minute reveal that Pruitt fathered Sarah (Annabeth Gish) feels too tacked on amidst a busy finale to land properly. 

However, none of this is the fault of the actors. The performances here are uniformly excellent and the earnest delivery of the material helps ward off accusations of purple prose. Linklater and Samantha Sloyan, who plays pious villain Bev Keane, could have easily gone off the rails with cartoonish depictions, but they keep things grounded and realistic. 

Sloyan in particular deserves recognition for creating such a contemptible character that never goes too over-the-top, instead feeling like an accurate representation of the judgmental crone of your parish. These performances are all accented wonderfully by Flanagan’s liberal use of captivating tracking shots and a score comprised of religious hymns that can flip from life-affirming to creepy on a dime. 

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

Midnight Mass can be long in the tooth, overly ambitious with its theological and existential musings, and not particularly frightening at times. Still, it makes up for it with memorable characters, ace performances, and scripts dripping with heart and compassion. While it’s base concept could have more than sustained a limited series, Flanagan packs this thing with so much to chew on, for better or worse. Qualms aside, you cannot help but be bowled over by the ambition and technical craft on display. Though it certainly features too much speechifying, this is Flanagan’s most thought-provoking material yet and a welcome addition to his expanding horror tome. 

Midnight Mass is available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass Is Creative, Bold, and Flawed Horror appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3o2CdSD

[blissfulalchemist]

"we've lost so much time" for hypatia/conner? <3

Okay so this was going to be so much longer (like 5k kind of long) but the other time I wanted to use this line I realized wasn’t going to fit so you get like half of what would be a chapter. Lo Siento. But it’s still pretty long. (◕‿◕)♡

I needed to buy a burner phone, or at least something separate from the three I currently had. Two for the Alchemists, because it was better for them to just pay for a personal cell phone now along with one for work, and the one that was for only Abe and my mom. Four, I was on to four phones now that Tia finally called me. Seven months of silence from her, I would have worried more about her but it seemed she kept the crystal keychain. I could at least always tell she was alive when I could check in, a small blessing with her.

She wanted to meet up with me in person, three days and she’d be back in St. Louis, not the smartest decision if you asked me. She needed to stay away from here as much as possible, she shouldn’t have even been contacting me really, not that it ever stopped her before. I sigh as I open the door to my apartment, the only thing I was able to do on my own, keys tossed into the bowl on the small kitchen table, as I make my way to the fridge. I don’t know why I do when there’s no appetite to be had. My stomach hasn’t stopped turning since I heard her voice once more. 

They need my help, they, she’s found people to join her little crusade, I wonder if I’ll get to meet some of them. Couldn’t tell me exactly what it was they needed my help with, it has to do with getting information or else I wouldn’t have been called. The sharp ring of cell phone prime stops the rumination of what exactly Tia and her merry band of thieves are up too. 

“If it isn’t my favorite warlock,” Abe greets as if I was the one to initiate this call, “How are things in St. Louis?”

My eyes roll, as I fall into the couch trying to relax, “How many times do I have to remind you I’m not a warlock,” my voice is the only part of me that’s obeyed as I drop the American accent.

“Well you did make a deal for some power, my boy,” he retorts, I can almost see the smile he has.

Yeah some power I have being your dog, “St. Louis is fine. They’re all still trying to look for Caro.”

“And after seven months,” Abe hums a second, “Have you been able to find anything else about her? What makes her so special to them?”

“I can’t get access to anything, I’m no hacker.”

“Surely your magic can get you somewhere,” his tone has dropped lower, I’m not doing my job in his eyes, or I’m just being difficult, “A little persuasion never hurt anyone.”

I stiffen, “You know exactly how I feel about your idea of persuasion,” my voice meets his in a growl, “That’s crossing into dark magic. I don’t do dark magic.”

“If you want to get out of this job and debt,” Abe taunts, if he was at a desk I’m sure he’d be leaning over it to look deep into your soul, “you better get a little more comfortable with the idea of it.”

My jaw clenches, “I’ll ask her myself, she’s returning in a few days.”

He’s silent for just the smallest amount of time, “Is she now?”

I nod, leaning back against the couch, “She said they needed some information I have access too.” I don’t know that I do but I just hope that my bluff will get some hint on who Tia might be with. 

“Well I hope you can get it for them,” should have known better, “Till next time Enache.” The call ended and I was back to being alone once more, eyes lazily looking at the clock on the wall, too early for any type of sleep and mom would be out in the garden still. I flipped the stereo on grabbing the old journal mom sent back with me, she wanted help translating and seeing if there could be any improvements to the spells from some great aunt some long time ago. It's been harder to get through them with Tia being gone, some of my ancestors encoded their works and Tia always had a different way of thinking that cracked it faster than me. It all started to blur together and the next thing I felt was weightless.

Maybe weightless wasn’t the right word as I felt sunlight burn at my eyes as I seemed to sink father into a bed. Wherever I was, it was warm and surrounded by the scent of citrus, my arms wrapped around its source. My lips turn upward, I know exactly who it is with me as I sink my face deeper into her hair pulling her closer. I’d have this dream before, I know I have, to finally have it real and right here with me….I can’t think of anything better. 

She stirs, her hand grabbing onto mine, “Good morning, C-man,” Tia’s greetings haven’t changed for me and I don’t think they will any time soon, “You know what today is?” Did I? I open my eyes looking to my left hand, no sign of a ring and the only thing glittering is the lingering golden lily on her hand. “Smallville,” she teased, “you forgot what today was didn’t you?”

“I-. No,” its somewhere stuck in my brain, I should know this answer, “It's about us, I know that.”

She laughed, turning to face me, her hazel eyes sparkling like peridots in the morning light, “Of course it’s about us,” her fingers trace down my jaw, “It's Mardi Gras, the day I ran away,” I know her hands are going to start tracing around the runes along my ribs.

“Why should that matter so much? Why can’t it just be Mardi Gras again,” there’s something off with my words, they don’t feel right speaking to her. I speak to her differently during these times, I know I do….so why does it feel like I’m forcing my speech in a way I dislike?

 “We’ve lost so much time because of it Conner,” she says softly, the sun’s rays bringing forth the gold in her hazel green eyes, “I should have never-.” 

I sigh, tilting her chin up, “I know why you did it,” Conner, she called me Conner….did I never tell her my real name? I take another look around us, I can’t place how I know, how I can even see it, but everything looks so soft around the edges and….foggy. I always told her in these fantasies, told her everything, we were both finally happy because there were no more secrets between the two of us. A chill starts on the back of my neck.

“I know but think about all that could have happened between us if I never did,” she kisses me, her lips soft and guiding, just as I always imagined it would be, the alarms in my mind attempting to overpower how good this all feels.This can’t be real….it feels real but….Her arms pull me closer, enticing me, “We could have had all this sooner. You and me together….”

There at the end of that word, I can feel it, the barest touch of a claw just outside of this fantasy….someone else was here. I jump up from the sheets, Tia’s eyes going wide, “I have to go,” I’m almost naked and I search for some kind of clothing, guess even in a dream I still had feelings of needing to cover up around others. 

“Conner wait,” she calls, hand reaching for me, “Don’t go.” Her eyes plead with me despite the small laughter she tried to use to hide the desperation in her voice. I hesitate. “Just stay here with me,” she’s on the bed on her knees, arms moving around my neck, biting her lower lip, “We can have everything you ever wanted. We never have to part again, we can live here, it can be anything you want.” Everything I ever wanted….so tempting of an offer. I’d never have to be Abe’s dog, never have to worry about leaving this place I call home, never have to have Tia away from me…. 

I take hold of her hands, shaking my head, “No,” I breathe out, stunning her a moment, “You’re not Tia. This isn’t real,” my thumb brushes along her cheek, as she presses her face more into my hand. I want to stay…., “I have to go.”

I turn away from her, my head making contact with the top of the van, I should have known it was her van, I can’t help but smile. “Conner don’t go! Stay!” She pleads once more, whoever made this fantasy did a good job in matching the way Tia’s voice sounds when she’s near tears, I only ever heard it the one time, “Don’t leave me here all alone! I need you! I don’t want you to leave me again!” Her words sting, though there’s no reason for them too, I never left her, “I’m sorry. I regret leaving you. Please stay with me, help us make up for lost time.”

I stiffen momentarily before a smirk comes to my lips. Nice try, I want to yell out to whoever it is that’s wanting to hold me here, “See now I know that you’re not her,” I look over my shoulder to the fake, “All you can do is just look like her, you could never match the real thing.” 

I step out of the van, into nothing solid with everything vanishing around me. I’m falling, my heart races, hands reaching out for something, anything, to slow me down. “Constantin,” a woman’s voice whispers next to my ear, it would sound sultry and sweet if not for the sharp annoyance at the edge of her words, “you can’t hide forever from me.” I shut my eyes, willing myself to wake up, the voice not letting up in whispering my name. There’s a little familiarity to it, but I can’t place it as I keep hoping to reach some kind of ground, the impact would surely wake me from this, now, nightmare. Red eyes reach past my eyelids, the fire in them clear, her voice certain and filled with that faux sweetness, “I’ll find you. Maybe not today but I’ll find you soon enough.”

I hit the sofa, gasping while I bolt right back up, her laugh a whispering echo in my ear for a heartbeat more before it's gone and Coltrane the only thing I can hear again. I can’t catch my breath, my hand gripping my chest, heart beating faster than I can ever remember, the room is closing in. My heart won’t stop racing, I’m going to fall, there’s not enough air. Not enough air. Not enough space. Things are closing in. Something’s wrong. I can’t figure out what. I have to stop shaking. Everything needs to stop spinning. The record’s warped, the notes are out of place. I know they are. I need to find an out. I need to breathe. When did it become so hard to breathe?

There’s a shrill ring over taking.

Loud, too loud. I need to make it stop. Need the quiet. I need it quiet to all stop. It’s all still spinning, legs shaking, I can’t even look at the screen. I can’t even get the simple word of hello out as I answer. “Constantin,” her voice is soothing, softened after so many years, “Constantin, honey, what’s wrong?” I’m younger, or at least my voice sounds childlike as I can tell I’m mumbling what’s wrong in my mother tongue, “Oh, mica mea grădină,” I can almost feel my mom’s arms around me. I can’t remember going to the ground, rocking back and forth, head between my knees. 

“Here focus on me, Grădină,” it feels like a strangled scream comes out at her nickname for me. Her voice is slow, steady, the perfect volume, “Hai Luluțu, dormi un picu. Dragul mamei, puiuț micu.” I know the words….the melody….it’s a lullaby. One she’s sung to me since I could remember, “Oare când oi fii voinicu. Să n-am grijă, de nimicu. Haida nani nani,” I can hear the way her voice is coaxing mine to join in through the sobs. I’m trying to take breaths as slow as I can, the near muscle memory wanting to take over. She keeps going and finally I can start to make out the carpet below me and the black coffee table in front of me, “Puișorul mamii. Domi in leganuț. Puișor draguț, luna și cu stealli.”

She holds the last word, my voice meeting hers with the first real words I can process myself saying, “Să-ți păzească viselii. Să-ți mângâie genialii.” Slowly I feel the tension in my body release as I continue to sing with her. The rocking stops, sobbing ceases, and soon I am able to breathe once more. “I’m sorry mama,” the first words out of my mouth as I wipe at my face, feeling a headache coming on.

“Grădina mea,” she says softly, soothing the slowing of my heart finally, “There’s never a need to be sorry.” She lets out a breath, I can see the wrinkle in her forehead she always got when she worried over me, “What got you so spooked Constantin?” I open my mouth to answer before she cuts me off, “And don’t go saying it's nothing. I’m your mother, I want to help you.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head, “It’s just a nightmare, mama, I must be working too much is all.”

“Maybe it's time for you to come home and quit this new job of yours,” I can hear the undertones of annoyance. She hadn’t been happy with this job since I told her I couldn’t visit more than once or twice a year if I was lucky. “This whole thing has just gotten worse and I’m worried about you.”

“What if I video chatted with you a little more,” I suggest getting up from the floor finally, turning down the music, “Would that make you a little happier?”

“No,” I smile at the quickness of her answer, “It’s not the same.”

“I know but it’s better than nothing.”

“What happened to that girl you used to talk about?” I stiffen, eyes shifting looking for cameras that aren’t there, “You didn’t have trouble sleeping then. Did you break up?”

“Mom,” I groan, “I haven’t dated while I’ve been out here, you know that.”

“Firstly you should,” I roll my eyes, “You not having the time is more proof that you need to be back home. Secondly, I think she had something to do with this ‘increase in work stress’. Or did you forget that this was the second time I’ve caught you in a panic attack?”

Was it the second time? I didn’t think so, that couldn’t have been right, “This is the first time mom, the other time you probably just caught me at a bad time.”

“Constantin,” she paused before letting out a slow breath, mom was done trying to worm her way through my lies, “I’m always here for you, you know that right?” 

I nod, “Yeah, I know you are mama. I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” she was quiet a moment before letting out a small gasp, “Oh, my package. You got that right?” It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter, it came in three days ago, “I put some tea in there for you. It should help you sleep.” I rest the phone between my ear and shoulder, tearing open the box, “I also put some cookies and jam in there for you. All your favorites.” 

It's nice to hear the smile in her voice again, I can’t help but meet it with my own as I look through everything, “Thanks mama,” I pull out the jar of tea, feeling the low hum of power they emanate, “I should be going to bed here soon.”

“Okay mica mea grădină,” I hear the faint sound of a bell, she hadn’t even left the shop yet and I was working too hard, “Sleep well, honey. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too mama,” I hang up after that, filling the automated teapot with water setting it to the correct temperature of her chamomile tea. I never had to worry about making the tea sweeter with mom’s recipe, the chunks of sugar being what imbued the tea with its magic. Sure chamomile already helped in relaxation but some needed more help and sleeping pills could be addictive, not mom’s tea though. She really must have been worried about me to have sent some, she was right too though, not that I’d ever tell her that.

It was about six months ago that I started to get a feeling as if I was being watched. Sleep was harder to have as I would wake to something echoing in my ears while I felt like I was in a fog. I brushed it off as worry for Tia’s safety due to her radio silence, now though….there was something about the dream that felt too real. It was coated in magic, it had to have been, I couldn’t tell what kind but I could tell they needed more time for something. The woman said she would find me….I just couldn’t place who would be looking for me after all this time.

One came to mind but there was no way they could have been looking for us after all this time, those were just random attacks. I shook the thoughts from my head as I filled a mug making my way to the bedroom flipping the tv on, the theme to Dateline playing. Three days, three days and I’d be seeing Tia again. I should bring her some of the cookies….then again, mama made them special for me.

[atlas-tries]

Shatter Me Chapter 3: Shatter Me

Read on AO3

First | Previous | Next

Summary: Patton finds a painful memory and Janus has a vision. Will it be enough to thwart the outcomes that await?

Notes: Redundant, no? Not gonna lie, fam, it's about to get to the darkest point. Trigger warnings for character death.

“Patton, are you sure you aren’t a hoarder?” Virgil asked, pushing aside a mountain of plushies where he had been unfortunate enough to land. This was the first time the anxious side had been in Patton’s room since he moved to their part of the Mindscape (also the first time he had ever been to Patton’s room) and Patton was beside himself to have him here.

“Absolutely! I just like to keep a few sentimental things around to look at when I’m feeling down,” Patton replied. “But I guess it uh, wouldn’t hurt to clean up a little. Gotta make room for more memories, right? I actually have the energy to do it now!”

Virgil looked at Patton with a lopsided grin. “Wait, what? You, not having the energy to do something? How’d that happen?”

“Ah right, you weren’t here for uh … all of that. Let’s just say I was recovering from an injury I got several months ago,” Patton said, instantly noting the worried change in Virgil’s expression. “Hold on, it’s alright, I’m alright now, see?” He lifted his shirt to showcase the few tiny cracks that remained. “I’m almost completely healed. Logan even gave me his seal of approval!” He pulled out a little medallion with Logan’s bespectacled brain signet on it. “See?”

Virgil breathed out a visible sigh of relief. He shook a finger at Patton. “Awesome,” he said, his voice cracking a little at the end.

“Alright, so you said you were looking for …” Patton started.

“… this one angsty poem Thomas wrote in high school. I thought I’d uh, spice the ruminating up a little when Thomas heads to bed tonight,” Virgil replied. “No better way to fall asleep than thinking about everything that’s gone wrong or that will go wrong, am I right?”

Patton smiled. “Sure, kiddo, as long as they’re balanced with happier thoughts during the daytime! Let’s see, I think what you’re looking for is over here.” He ran toward his version of the staircase that was piled high with boxes and other larger memorabilia that wouldn’t fit on the bookshelf. He glanced through a few of them, perking up a little when he came to the box on the fourth stair. “I think this is it!” He grabbed the box and ran back to Virgil.

“Keep them as long as you need them,” Patton said with a smile. He handed it over to Virgil, who nearly doubled over from the weight of the things inside. Virgil choked out a thanks and quickly sank out.

“Well, that’s one box temporarily dealt with. Now, about the rest of this marvelous mountain of memories …” Patton, though he would never outrightly admit it, didn’t like moving things around very much. It filled him with dread just thinking about moving something somewhere he would inevitably forget about it. Maybe it would be better to start smaller? He looked around for somewhere less cluttered to start. Finally, his eyes landed on the overflowing box labeled New Memories. “That’ll do for now.” He took the box carefully upstairs to his bedroom and got to work sorting its contents.

In around half an hour, everything was categorized into neat little piles that could be easily transferred to other more fitting storage spaces. Patton began collecting everything from the Friends and Coworkers pile and carried them to his dresser. The top drawer was for everything related to Joan. Admittedly, this one was getting a little bloated from all the fun stuff they and Thomas had ever done together. Still, Patton managed to find space for the newer memories in the crevices that remained. The rest made their way into their respective drawers, packed in tightly with all the rest of them.

Patton closed the drawers, smiled, and put his hands on his hips. “Perfect!” he said. Now all that was left was to take the box back to his version of the living room. He picked the box up and startled when it hissed at him. Something was still in there. He peeked into the box at the thing that had just slid toward him, an upside-down picture frame from the looks of it. Steadying the box with one hand, he reached in and flipped it over.

The last memory he had of Thomas’s now ex-boyfriend stared up at him from the bottom of the box.

His hands trembled a little as he stared at this frighteningly still image. “Nope nope nope, not today,” he said, closing the box and walking as quickly as he could to put it back where it belonged. Despite ridding himself of the visual, this memory was still going to make itself heard in the only way it knew how. Patton clutched at his chest hard and the box crashed to the living room floor. “N-not again …”

He sat down on the stairs a moment to regain control of his breathing. Searing lines thrummed in time with his heartbeat, dulled but not forgotten. This was another reason why he never bothered to clean up: too much of a chance to reopen old wounds. Patton rose with a wince to get that recording of the Rainforest Rap. That song always helped cheer him up. He kept the song on repeat until he felt some semblance of normalcy again.

For the rest of the week, Patton lay awake during the nights, praying that the darkness would somehow take away the memories that hurt him so. It, as many spectral entities do, provided no such reprieve. Certainly not enough to quell the ache settling further into his core as the days passed. Taking liberties in his duties here and there made things far more manageable. Just yesterday, Patton suggested Thomas indulge in a half a pack of Oreos and he listened. The day before, he had come thiiiiiis close to getting an actual bouncy castle! And today, Patton had one little plan he thought everyone would jump for (but not in a bouncy castle).

If everything went according to Patton’s plan, they would spend the next 48 hours rewatching The Office in a blanket fort with Thomas’s closest friends. They could all use a break right about now, what with Roman steamrolling through coming up with new concepts, Logan pulling all-nighters researching for new videos, and Virgil making sure everyone was staying on time with Logan’s schedule. He couldn’t wait to see how everyone else liked this idea! He was already out the door and nearly to the stairs when he heard muffled shouting coming from the living room below.

“—not seriously thinking of going along with this latest plan, are you? I have far too much to plan if we’re to keep this project at its utmost quality!”

Patton stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs.

“I know, Roman, I’m concerned about this, too. We’re woefully behind schedule as it is,” Logan added. “If we don’t do something about this, my carefully constructed calendar will collapse under the weight of his impulse decisions.”

“But how are we even supposed to bring that up to him? He’s been acting weird all week, I know,” Virgil bit, “but you know how Pat takes these things, L.” Patton bit his lip to keep from making noise as the cracks grew once more.

“The best way to do that is to do like you said earlier Virgil, rip it off like a metaphorical Bandaid. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.”

So. Patton had gone overboard these past few days with his contributions.

How many other times had he put the other sides in this exact same situation? They were all supposed to be in this together. Weren’t they …?

There was only one way to fix this. Fixing his cardigan and his expression, Patton plodded heavily down the stairs to announce his arrival. “Hey kiddos! Oh, good, you’re all here together, that’ll save me a few trips back upstairs,” he said cheerily.

“Don’t tell us, Padre, you have another idea?” Roman asked. His smile looked so forced.

“Kinda! So I was just thinking that since we are so behind schedule, a 2 day binge-fest might not be the greatest idea I’ve come up with. So instead of that, how about we work on this next concept together tonight?”

Jaws all around the room dropped. “Wait, what? I thought …” said Virgil, looking to the others.

Roman picked up where Virgil left off, “Patton, I believe that’s the best idea you’ve had all week!” He stepped closer. “How shall we go about it? At the dumb boring regular table here, or at the Round Table in the Imagination to help stimulate all the best thoughts?”

“Hmm, that’s intriguing, Roman. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep track of all our thoughts on paper,” Logan added.

“Hey Logan, I guess you say it’s a …” Patton started.

Logan’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” Virgil snickered.

“… well-Round-ed idea,” said Patton.

Virgil and Roman couldn’t help smiling watching this play out. Logan groaned. “I will ignore that this one time because you made a worthwhile effort to get us back on schedule, but I do hope that you’ll spend a little more time thinking about what words you want to arrange in a sentence. And make them less … pun-filled.”

“I’ll try not to have too much pun, but I can’t make any promises!” Patton said.

Logan said nothing further, opting instead to vacate the premises as quickly as possible. “I’ll uh, go with him and we’ll get everything set up in the Imagination,” said Roman, running after him.

“Well, I guess that just leaves you and me, kiddo! Whaddaya say we make some snacks for everyone? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today!”

Virgil nodded. “As long as I can spit on something meant for Roman,” he said.

“I’ll let you have the cookie batter bowl,” Patton replied.

“Deal.”

Between the two of them, Patton and Virgil were able to make somewhat quick work of a heaping plate of hot cookies and several plates of sandwiches for everyone to enjoy. Sure, they may have gotten more flour and other assorted foodstuffs on them than into the finished products on the counter, but it was the fun they had doing it that mattered. Both of them decided that it would be best to change out of their dirty clothes before carrying everything into the Imagination.

Patton sunk into his version of the kitchen, which was considerably more cluttered than the common area kitchen. He stepped over a few stray memories before making it into the clearer living room. That was when he noticed Deceit sitting on his couch worrying his gloved hands. Softly, Patton called out, “Dee?”

Deceit startled and turned quickly to see Patton. “Um,” he said, clearing his throat and brushing down the front of his cloak, “you certainly didn’t sneak up on me.”

“What brings you back to my neck of the ‘burbs?” asked Patton.

Deceit stood from the couch. “We’re just getting so well acquainted that I thought I’d stop by for tea— and to give a warning. I know they’ve been growing again.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I guess I can’t really hide this from you. But you should know, this time—”

“It’s not their fault, I’m well aware. But doesn’t this make it the best time to tell them? The pressure is off. You don’t even have to tell them in a direct way!” Deceit said, taking Patton’s hands in his own. His eyes were alight with worry. “You just need to tell them.”

“I know I need to, but … it’s so hard to do. I’d be hurting them, I know I would.”

Deceit looked down and sighed. He brought his gaze quickly back up to Patton’s, staring with an intensity that Patton had never seen from him before. “You need to tell them,” he whispered slowly. “I saw something on the horizon. Something bad. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t want that vision to be about you.”

That was a bit startling. Patton knew it wouldn’t get that far, but … could it? “Okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them.” That earned him a split-second smile from Deceit.

“That’ll do, Patton. That’ll do. What in the world is on my gloves?” Deceit said, sinking out.

“Cookie dough!” Patton called after him. “And probably some mayo. Oh, he probably didn’t hear me. Now what was I doing again? Oh yeah, clothes, brainstorming, Imagination!” He quickly ran upstairs to the bathroom to get changed and emerged from his room less than a minute later and grabbed what food Virgil hadn’t. Maybe if he busied himself enough, he would be able to forget Deceit’s visit. He wouldn’t think about the panic behind his crumbling facade, or the thinly veiled pleas he made.

But that would all be a lie. Something had him deeply troubled, and when Deceit was the one giving out a warning in earnest, it bode better to listen. But how to go about it? Patton sighed. “Alright, Patton, let’s just focus on getting to the others right now,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes and thought about the others, and about castles, knights, and everything that made Roman happy.

When he opened them again, he was in the Imagination.

Or rather, he was in a field in the Imagination, right in front of Roman’s towering castle. It was a perfect amalgamation of Gothic architecture and pure Disney magic that made Patton’s nostalgia meter burst through the roof. He ran through the front gates with appropriate gusto and was thrilled to see the others there around the table already, quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Ah, Patton, we were starting to think you forgot how to get here again. Come, let us formally begin this brainstorming bash!” Roman said cheerily.

“That’s the spirit!” Patton squealed, trying to sound as normal as possible. He set down the cookie platter and took a seat in the high-backed chair with his new symbol on it.

“First things first, let’s make sure we’re all on the same page before we begin,” Logan said, summoning papers for all of them. “In order to maximize our output, Roman, Virgil, and I have decided to remove some of the thought filters from the castle for this session. This means that any particular thought, if it’s focused enough, will manifest in here for all of us to review. According to my own independent research, this should boost our productivity by 42% with a .03% margin of error.”

Patton’s eyes widened a little. He really didn’t want to interrupt their work, but this new system would definitely cause problems if he didn’t come clean now. So, Patton gathered every last bit of gumption that he had and shouted, “I have a confession to make!”

The others backed up a little, startled that Patton could be so loud, but quickly recomposed themselves. “Go ahead, Patton,” said Logan, straightening his tie.

Patton thanked him, doing his best to not squirm in his seat. He knew they wouldn’t react well, but maybe saying it now would keep thoughts about it from popping up later. “I uh, wanted to get this out of the way before we get down to business. But um … I think I might be breaking again.”

“Come again?” Virgil asked.

Patton slid the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal several deep fissures. “These things. They’re growing again,” he said. “Started earlier this week. I just didn’t want that popping up without warning and ruining our work. Anyways, um, what ideas are we working with here, Roman?”

“Wait, breaking? Like, breaking breaking? Oh God, Patton, are you dying? You’re dying, aren’t you? Oh God, no! What stops death?! Logan?!” Virgil cried frantically.

Patton quickly said, “Virgil, Virgil, breathe, I’m not dying. In for four seconds, there you go, hold it for seven seconds. You’re doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Out for eight. Good job, keep it up.”

Logan got out a pen and notepad. “Again? And you say they started earlier this week? Do you remember which day it was?” he asked.

“The day I started cleaning up my room. Uh, what day was that again?” Patton said, still doing his best to softly coach Virgil back down to a calmer state.

“Padre … I thought there weren’t going to be any more secrets about this,” said Roman. The hurt look he gave to Patton about killed him where he sat.

“It wasn’t so much a secret as it was an ‘I-got-a-little-busy-and-kept-forgetting’ kind of thing. I never meant to keep it from you, any of you,” Patton replied. A tiny, glowing orb dripped from Patton’s chest. A thought. He pushed it down between his hand and the seat to trap it, knowing that it would unveil his lie. For good measure, he slung a leg over his hand.

“You were cleaning that day…” Logan mused. “I may have some theories that explain this phenomenon, though it is currently up to speculation. Allow me to elaborate. Patton, it seems that stressing yourself beyond your limits could potentially be the cause of this. You have certainly been going out of your way with your work this week. I believe we all recall the … bouncy castle idea. This could be leading to a lack of self-care needed to perform adequately.”

Patton nodded slowly with as real a smile as he could muster. “Yyyyyeah, that could be it,” he said, shoving down another treacherous thought as it popped out. It brought up memories of all the passing comments Logan made about his character.

“Uh, Pops? Whatcha … doin’ over there?” Virgil asked.

Patton stiffened. “Nothing, just, uh … Practicing a new kind of exercise?” Another one flitted out, pointing to being too overbearing with Virgil. “Hey, is that a dragon coming up to the castle?”

Everyone turned to look while Patton conjured a slingshot, flung that icky thought out the other window. and recaptured the one that had come out from beneath his leg.

“No, that’s a tapestry, Padre. It literally couldn’t hurt you if it wanted to,” Roman said. “Not that I would ever let it!”

Patton smiled. “You’re my hero, Roman,” he said.

Roman blushed a little to that. “Aw, Pat,” he gushed.

Another thought came up, a memory of a time Roman had taken him on one of his adventures. He had wanted to tend to a little wounded animal they came across and nearly got them killed because of it. Patton clapped his hand painfully over his heart to keep that one from surfacing. With a whimper and a slight grimace, he replied, “I mean it, Ro.”

Virgil was getting extremely antsy where he sat. “Okay, um … This is weird, right? Like, this just feels wrong.”

“Virgil has a point, you are behaving rather strangely, Patton,” said Logan. “Do you have something you’d like to add?”

With the focus being on what started this, another memory surfaced. The one that had started it again. Patton tried to bite that one as it meandered past. Curse these full hands! He missed by a mile, leaving it to float effortlessly to the center of the table.

“A thought?” Logan said. “Unconventional, but it’s an intriguing choice.”

It began to play. Patton was in his room, sorting through the new memories box. The last few were being tucked away. It skipped to him looking back in the box to see what was left. It showed him, holding the picture. Him, clutching his chest. Him, stumbling to the floor. As if on cue, the cracks thrummed in recognition. Thank goodness he already had a hand over them because it almost took his breath away. The memory evaporated, leaving the others to simply look with jaws slightly agape.

Patton could only look down at the table. These old wounds were reopening in the worst of ways, and now his closest friends would find out the truth. Logan finally broke the silence. “So, that’s how it happened.”

Patton nodded wordlessly.

“This was months ago,” Logan said.

“It was a busy time for me,” Virgil added. “Switching from everything Thomas did wrong to worrying that Thomas will never find love again got to be so exhausting.”

“I admit even I became a bit disheveled by his absence,” Logan said, looking down.

“I nearly ducked out over this. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, Patton,” said Roman.

Patton still couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew there were pent up tears threatening to fall if he did. “It … it was hard … and seeing a reminder of it …” he whispered.

Logan sighed. “I believe your best course of action is clear,” he said. “You simply need to let the past be the past.”

“But … what about all of the good times we had with him? I don’t want to leave them behind,” Patton said softly.

“Patton, these memories are physically hurting you. I can’t understand why you would rather suffer endlessly instead of just letting one person go.”

You’re too sentimental to save yourself from dying.

Patton’s face contorted and a small whine escaped his throat. Those insidious cracks lengthened once more, each one feeling like a knife tracing its way through his skin.

Roman stood abruptly. “Now look what you’ve done, Quantum of Soulless!” Roman cried, motioning to Patton. Logan rose from his seat, trying to get a better look from across the table.

“Roman …” Patton lightly scolded. “Pl-please be nice.”

Roman huffed. “Sorry. What I mean is this situation needs a bit more delicacy than Logan’s robotic demeanor could ever hope to provide.” Roman walked over to Patton and put a hand gently on his arm. Logan was making his way over, too, notepad in hand. “Now Padre, you know how much I came to you when this was all fresh. We did our best to hold each other up, but even now, I still feel lost. I can’t tell you how much I yearn to have our beloved return, or how much I want to call him after all this time.”

Patton sniffled a little, putting his hand over Roman’s and leaning his head against his arm. “I know, I want him back too,” he said.

“I think we all do. But I think it might also be time to start boxing up some of those old memories. We can even help you start!” Roman said. Virgil shook his head. Logan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can help you start.”

“But I don’t want to forget … I wouldn’t even know where, or how, to start. We had so many good memories together that I don’t want to lose,” Patton blubbered.

“I know it’s difficult, but we aren’t children anymore, Padre. I know the relationship ending was for the best and I’ve been striving every day to remain strong. I also know that you wouldn’t be leaving everything behind if you do the adult thing and let the ghosts of the past go.”

You’re too naive to understand what needs to be done.

Patton doubled over, groaning as the cracks split further down his limbs and up his neck. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he could taste the coppery twang of essence. He felt another wary hand on him. “P-Pops?” came Virgil’s wavering voice. “I… Thomas was being too overbearing. That wasn’t your fault!”

YOU were being too overbearing. YOU were what drove him away.

Patton cried out in agony as his skin split down to his fingertips and over his face to the top of his head. Small chips of skin were beginning to fall away with tiny tinks as they hit the floor, displaying the bright blue beneath. He could feel the front of his shirt begin to dampen.

“I don’t get it! We’re trying to help, why isn’t this working?” Virgil cried. “Why are they getting worse?!”

Logan came up to Patton, attempting to lean him back with utmost care. “Perhaps just talking about the subject of his pain is what’s causing them to worsen,” he said. As soon as he looked at the frail fatherly side, his demeanor changed. “Virgil, get a first aid kit. Roman, help me lay him on the table. Now!”

The others, at first too stunned to move, burst into action as quickly as they could. Patton screamed as they repositioned him on the table, hyperventilating from the pain. “Hang in there, Padre, please hang in there!” came Roman’s muffled voice. Logan was reaching for the hem of his shirt. He mouthed something to him. Patton felt something glide across his skin from his navel to his neck. Wait, when did Logan get scissors? And where was his shirt? And why did the others look so horrified? Those questions seemed inconsequential to the truth staring down at Patton, demanding he tell it.

“It w-was my fault,” Patton croaked.

Logan started threading a needle. Virgil was carding his fingers through Patton’s hair anxiously. Roman looked at him with incredulous eyes. “What are you talking about?” asked Roman.

“Th-the breakup,” Patton replied. Warmth was trickling down over his ribcage and soaking his back. “A-and everything e-else.” Logan tried his best to stick the needle through solid skin, but it just chipped further. Patton coughed, a bit of blue making its way past his lips.

“Everything else? Patton, you’re not making sense,” Logan said, trying the same thing again with the same result.

Patton whimpered, “I-I know that I’m always … messing th-things up. I forget s-so much … I kn-know that you think I’m t-too sentimental t-to do my job. Th-that I’m too … naive t-to see the truth right in … front of me. That I’m s-so over … o-overbearing that I drove him away. If it w-weren’t for … all of you t-to rein me in … I-I’d make Thomas into a… w-worthless mass of a man.”

You are worthless.

“C-Compression. Let’s try compression,” Logan said.

“Pat … is this … is this what caused all of this?” Roman asked. His eyes shimmered.

“You can’t seriously think that,” Virgil said, his hands becoming shaky.

Patton cried as Logan pressed firmly in the center of his chest. More fragments broke free and with them, Logan’s hands went straight through into Patton’s chest. Patton nearly passed out. Logan quickly withdrew his hands.

“Ohhhh my God, oh my God, Logan, what did you do?!” shouted Virgil. “What do we do now?!”

Patton coughed violently, essence spluttering from his lips in a steady stream.

Logan could only stand there, frozen in horror, staring at his blue hands.

“Logan?!” Roman cried.

“I … I don’t know …” came Logan’s voice, barely above a whisper. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

“You can’t die on us, Patton, please, we need you!” Virgil sobbed.

Roman grasped Patton’s hand delicately. It began to shatter like porcelain barely held together. Despite the jagged edges, Roman still lifted it to his cheek, holding on like it was the only anchor in a violent sea. “Y-you’ll … all be … alright … without me … Just … p-promise me … y-you won’t … blame yourselves …” Patton gasped.

He couldn’t hold it together when bigger pieces of him began breaking away from the rest of his body. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t hear.

He couldn’t see. But still, his mouth made the words.

“I… l-love… you.”

With a final shuddering breath, he was gone.

---

Janus knew that meddling with what his foresight told him never aided the outcome.

He knew this, but he tried anyway.

It wasn’t that he particularly liked Patton. He found him to be overly saccharine and ridiculously optimistic in the face of surefire doom, not to mention he stood by socks and sandals as a fashion choice. However, things always seemed to run smoother in the Mindscape with the fatherly side around. Someone had to be there to tend to the others and moderate their senseless bickering, he supposed. How would anyone get any sleep otherwise? And Patton wasn’t one to pass judgement when he was caught alone. Perhaps his near-blind acceptance was what endeared Janus to him in the first place.

Whatever the case, he didn’t want whatever was going to happen to go through like it wanted to. He could never determine much from these visions. Just … feelings. Notions. The occasional coherent thought. This most recent one should’ve been par for the course. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was being ripped apart. And there was nothing else around but the pain, searing a fiery blue, and those three intrepid words.

I love you.

A swan song if there ever was one. And now, standing here amongst the shadows outside Roman’s castle, he knew the swan had sung.

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 96 - A Dangerous Acquisition

hey all sorry I've been so slow my motivation has been awful

Zash and Terri catch up after escaping Ragna III and discuss the next ingredient on their list

Terri looked at the holodisc again and shuddered; she still hadn’t been able to watch the thing, she trusted Zash was telling the truth about it but she did want to see quite what they were up against. Apparently it wasn’t like anything Zash had ever seen from the Commander, they hadn’t really had time to discuss it as they’d made their quick escape.

Terri was getting exhausted with the constant running but she understood to even stand a chance with the sith, republic and alliance all against them this was the only way. Still it didn’t make it any less tiring, Terri had never thought it would be this complicated she always thought she’d just do Zash a favour and Lusari and her could leave. She wiped her eyes preemptively, clearly Lusari had thought about it differently, maybe she’d never quite understood Lusi as well as she thought she had. She was definitely a lot braver than Terri to do all that selflessly for another person, but she guessed it made sense after all Lusari had looked after her while they were still at the academy.

Terri sighed there was no point ruminating over it that was all in the past now, she walked back into the living quarters where Zash was drinking some caf. Terri smiled for the first couple of weeks Zash had tried to eat and drink things that she ‘knew she liked’ but over time she’d noticed Zash returning to Lusi’s old palette she guessed they were the same taste buds after all. 

Terri sat down next to her “hey are you doing any better now?” Terri had never seen Zash that shaken it certainly had frightened her

Zash nodded putting down the drink “yeah I’m ok now it was just shocking that’s all, it came rather out of nowhere” Terri nodded she hoped one day they’d both be able to rest but with people’s perceptions of them it was a little difficult, she supposed after Zash had gained the power they seek she may be able to.

Terri looked away “so uh do you have any idea what they were doing there” Zash frowned at her looking confused

She answered “well I assume looking for us I doubt they’re stopping the search even now” Terri nodded she knew at least that

She shook her head “yeah but how’d they find us this time we’d been hiding for a while on a not technologically advanced planet” Zash did seem to consider that with more thought

She stroked her chin “to be honest I don’t know, we didn’t exactly leave a paper trail this time” she sighed “whatever it was we best hope it was just a one time thing facilitated by their new scientist friend” Terri shivered thinking about Malora she was still a very scary reminder of her time in the academy

Zash seemed to pick up on that “you seemed to know her vaguely when we met her do you have much of an idea how she operates” Terri shrugged most the time when she’d seen her she’d avoided her

She shook her head “not really Zash all I know is one day her face was fine and the next it started to become all cracked like you’ve seen” Zash sighed clearly not mad but deep in thought

Zash rubbed her forehead “either way we should keep an eye on her, the Jedi and Kyradia aren’t what I’d call tech smart” Terri nodded she was still confused what the Jedi was doing there but it was all very confusing so who was she to judge

Terri looked at Zash “so what did you manage to learn with the sisters” Zash smiled looking at Terri with clear excitement

She began to explain “basic stuff, unfortunately we didn’t get too far just basic manipulation of Magick, still I did manage to get this” Terri watched as her form shifted into mist and appeared on a different seat “boo” she laughed as Terri jumped back only a little “it’s like a mist form” Terri’s eyes widened as she clapped

She smiled “wow that’s so cool, maybe you could teach me” she really did want to know but Zash’s expression soured

She shook her head “I don’t know yet Terri I’m still a beginner this stuff is dangerous” Terri looked down dissapointed and a little frustrated

Terri sighed “fine I guess you’re right but once you’re not a beginner you gotta teach me ok” Zash gave her a smile but never actually seemed to say yes

Terri decided to change the conversation and picked up the list “what’s next then ‘Snowbark Amber’ what the heck is that” Zash tutted and took the thing with a smile

She opened up a datapad “that’s been the other thing I’ve been working out, Snowbark Amber is fossilised tree sap that used to be native to Dathomir. However the tree it came from died out on Dathomir long ago and as you can imagine the sisters quickly used up the resource.” Terri nodded not understanding everything but at least understanding there was none on Dathomir “you can use other amber but it’s extremely less potent and I’m sure we don’t want that” Terri nodded what with the threat of Ysum betraying them it seemed fair

Terri had a feeling she was leading up to something “so where else can you find it? You said it only died out of Dathomir” Zash smiled clearly pleased she had someone to explain this to

She continued “well it’s become very rare and while present on some planets with Nightsisters, those tribes being a secret has rather impeded that strategy. I also checked with the sisters on Ragna III and there was no Snowbark trees in that climate, so I had to look into other natural occurrences of Snowbark trees and I found they’re still prominent on Ziost” Terri’s eyes widened wait did she know about Ziost?

Terri stammered “um Zash about that uh Ziost is um well it’s dead, the Emperor killed all life on the planet” Zash’s closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh

She took a deep breath “of course it is, well then I guess we’ll have to go with plan C which is not ideal” Terri shivered she was afraid to ask

She tried to stay positive “uh what’s plan C?” Zash shook her head and got out another datapad scrolling through it

She continued explaining “well due to its rarity and distinctive shine it’s rather rare and the feather in any collectors trophies” Terri shivered oh no who had it, Zash clearly read what she was thinking “the only known chunk of Snowbark Amber is well it’s in the Empress’ private collection” Terri’s jaw dropped the empress???? No they couldn’t steal from her

She stammered “as in Acina?? Zash we may be skilled but we are not that skilled” Zash shook her head and tutted

She smiled “don’t be ridiculous Terri we’re not going to take this head on we’re going to steal it from her when she’s busy, we need to come up with a calculated plan and we may need a few extra hands” Terri swallowed hard this seemed needlessly dangerous all for a piece of Amber “set a course for Dromund Kaas and in the meantime we’re going to come up with a plan...

[fancyfanfiction]

Soon It Will Be Spring (Chapter 3)

YAY! I had a major set back in the form of my external hard drive corrupting, but I got the data back and have been working on this chapter! I also now know way too much about the Russian railway system. Fun fact: The name of the Nikolaevsky/Oktyabyrsky station is now the Moskovsky Station.

Cross-posted to AO3 here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242599/chapters/65460604

 Chapter 3

The clocktower of the Nikolaevsky—now Oktyabyrsky—railway station stood stark against the cobalt sky as the pair approached the building, one of the holdouts of imperial style in the new culture of Russia. Train whistles mumbled and overlapping conversations, and the chugging of locomotives enveloped the station and its grounds. Gleb and Katya kept pace with their fellow travelers as they crossed the threshold into the main hall of the station.

Katya took in the sight, allowing herself private revelry in the familiarity of the old train station. Any childhood trip ended there: with a train pulling back into Saint Petersburg and some treat or another from her father to ease the sadness of an adventure ended. Katya could almost hear her father comforting her: the best part about the end of an adventure is now another can begin. Adventure had been his life since the beginning, adventures that Katya had never quite been able to imagine. The Caucasus mountains existed to her only in books and in the stories her father had told of his boyhood. Regret pricked the back of her neck. Katya would never get to see the mountains where her father had been born now.

The odd companions stood staring at the board of arrivals and departures. Moscow would be easy, but Poland: less so. Money and time for forged papers were luxuries they hadn’t been afforded. They approached the ticketing window, and something seemed to click on in Katya’s eyes.

“Hello, comrade. Where are you headed?” asked the man.

“Two for Moscow, please. The earliest departure you have.” Katya had donned a modest Polish accent as she slid the money across the counter, not unintelligible by any means, but unmistakable in its origin.

Upon hearing the accent, the ticket man seemed to change his demeanor. The stench of condescension wafted off of him. “You’ll need to go to platform four and give this to the man on the train when he asks for it” He pronounced each word slowly and loudly as if speaking to a small child, exaggerating each syllable and gesturing as he handed Katya the tickets.

She offered a vacant smile, “Thank you, comrade.”

Of course. She was playing dumb Gleb realized.  

“Platform four, then?” Gleb asked once they had left the counter, shifting his pack from one shoulder to the other. “I’m surprised you didn’t shout at him.”

“Playing into people’s prejudices can have its uses,” Katya said, her disdain for the “stupid Pole” stereotype dripping from each word.

“Where did you learn to do that accent so well, Yekaterina?” Gleb asked, curiosity getting the better of his instinct to leave Katya alone to cool off.

“My mother’s family is Polish. Neither of my grandparents on that side ever fully shook the accent.” Her answer was direct but lacked the iciness Gleb had expected.

They walked in silence to their destination. The light tang of coal, metal, and oil floated in the air, strengthening as the platform grew closer. The train would be departing in less than half an hour. They stood with their fellow passengers, the shared comradery of an imminent journey connecting all those who stood waiting. The moment washed over the pair like water over the banks of the Neva as they watched the train pull into the station.

“We can’t come back.” Katya broke through the silence.

Gleb thought for a moment he saw heartbreak flicker in her eyes – the same look Anya had as she knelt next to him, loaded gun still in his hand, the same blue eyes. Gleb glanced at Katya again, but she had turned away.

A sea of coats, hats, and luggage ebbed and flowed around them as the passengers boarded.  Katya claimed the window seat before Gleb even had a chance to protest. Exhaustion clung to her like sleet, weighing Katya down as she leaned her head against the cool glass. Her eyes fluttered, going in an out of focus as sleep threatened to overtake her.

“Here.” Katya thrust the tickets toward Gleb. “Just hand the conductor both of ours when he comes by.”

Gleb nodded and took the paper slips from Katya; the tips of her fingers brushed his through her fingerless gloves. Whether they were fingerless for dexterity or simply because the tips had become too damaged to bother mending anymore, Gleb couldn’t say.

The train lurched forward in a cloud of steam and smoke as it pulled away from the platform. The gentle rocking as the train picked up speed lulled Katya into a blessedly dreamless sleep, leaving Gleb alone with his thoughts.

He took stock. It would be at least a few hours before they reached Moscow. He knew Katya had some money but had no clue how much; Gleb decided he would only count on his own money. There was no use speculating on things he didn’t know and had no place asking. He knew Katya couldn’t have saved much. Yet Anya – Anastasia, he corrected himself mentally – had made it with those conmen, and street sweepers made only a fraction of what a cleaning woman would make. She had more than made it. She had thrived. Why hadn’t she taken her place publicly? The image of Anya decked out in her regal red gown that played so well against rosy skin haunted him, taunted him, dangled what could have been in front of him, just out of reach. Long life, Gleb, her voice still echoed in his head.

***

 “Now arriving at Oktyabrsky Terminal, Moscow.” The conductor’s voice boomed through the train car. Katya stirred and woke, fixing Gleb with those blue eyes that seemed too familiar after four hours of ruminating on the past.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” He said dryly.

“We’re in Moscow, then?” Katya rubbed her face.

“Unless the conductor is lying.”

Katya responded with a short half laugh. “So, you do have a sense of humor.”

“A bit rusty, but it’s there.” Gleb smiled, the first genuine smile Katya could remember seeing on him.

With their current government, the more paranoid part of Katya didn’t quite trust that the conductor wasn’t lying. She stretched and stood, trying to shake the idea from her mind. A yawn escaped as she shook out the stiffness from sleeping leaning against a train window.

“Warsaw next, then?” Gleb asked, allowing the chatter of the other passengers to cover their conspiracy.

Katya nodded. “Yes…” she trailed off.

Gleb sensed the “but” implied in her answer. “But we don’t have papers.”

Another nod. “I think I have a workaround, but we’ll have to be quick.”

           The pair disembarked with the rest of the passengers and crossed to the departures board. The train station hadn’t changed much, despite its renaming Katya noted. She almost wished she had time to wander around Moscow. It had been so long since she’d visited. Then she remembered. The palaces, the grand parties, all of that would be long gone—had been long gone for years now.

           Gleb looked between the chalk departures board and his father’s old map. “It looks like the closest we can get to Warsaw today will be Minsk.”

           “Alright then. One more leg to the journey won’t throw things off too badly.” Katya began walking, rifling through of her bag.

           Gleb’s gaze drifted from person to person, habitually searching for any danger. His heart jumped as he noticed a man walking quickly in his direction. The man was dressed neutrally, meant to blend in with the crowd in the train station, but he walked with a purpose that set him apart, shoulders square and jaw set. Gleb knew a Chekist guard when he saw one. And one was walking dead towards him and Katya.

           “Yekaterina.” Gleb grabbed her arm, not even waiting for a response. He pulled them both around a corner into a shadowed, empty corridor and pressed her against the wall, hoping the dark color of his coat would camouflage them—if not, he supposed he could use the excuse of sweethearts stealing a kiss away from the crowds.

           “What—” Katya’s question was cut off by Gleb placing his finger to his lips. She was certain she would have a bruise on her upper arm from how hard he had gripped. Scrutinizing his face, she searched for an answer as to why the former Deputy Commissioner had shoved her against a wall in a dark corner of a crowded building. The wool of his coat still held the familiar smell of his—now former—apartment despite their frenzied escape from St. Petersburg. He looked over his shoulder and Katya noticed the dark stubble that had begun to spread along Gleb’s jawline. Seeing the bruise-colored circles beneath his eyes, Katya felt a pang of sympathy. This close she realized Gleb was holding his breath. What ever caused him to try and hide them, she figured, it must not be gone.

           Seconds felt like minutes before Gleb heard the quick steps of the Cheka pass. He stepped back, freeing Katya.

           “The Cheka.” He answered her unfinished question.

           Katya’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ve found us?” Her breathing hitched. Had they really been so close to danger?

           “No.” He shook his head. “But if they’re looking for us, they’ll have our descriptions.”

The two walked back into the main lobby of the station. The travelers and commuters seemed oblivious as to what had just happened.

“Well, we should get to Minsk as soon as possible.” Katya walked up to the window and returned with their tickets. “The train’s already boarding.” She walked right past Gleb, leading him toward their platform.

This train was nicer that the last, Gleb observed. He and Katya found their compartment and took their seats, this time across from each other, rather than side by side. This would be a long trip. Moscow was more than 700 kilometers from Minsk. The train ride alone would take 6 hours, likely more if they needed to stop to refuel.

Gleb looked at Katya. Her face was mirrored in the dark glass as she stared out the window. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“If we’re going to be on this train for a while, perhaps we could get to know each other?” Gleb suggested as nonchalantly as he could. Truthfully, he was a little curious about his companion.

Katya turned from the window toward Gleb. “What do you want to know?”

He searched for a moment before settling on a question. “What was your life like before you worked as a cleaner?”            “My mother left me at the Smolny Convent to become a nun when I was about 14.” Katya replied.

“You were a nun?” Gleb was astonished. In the hours they had now spent together, he’d not once gotten the impression that she was particularly devout.

“No. I was a novice and not a very good one at that.” Katya corrected, amused by his surprise.

“Papa and I sent letters, in secret of course.” She continued, “We weren’t exactly supposed to have contact with our families, but he always encouraged my rule-breaking. I suppose that was part of why my mother sent me to the convent in the first place.” The softness Katya’s features had taken talking about her father faded. “I was there until you Bolsheviks disbanded the convent.” She gave him a pointed look. “And looted it.”

She leaned back against the seat. “I would write and tell my father about how I had screwed up in my novitiate again since we’d last talked. Something stupid normally. Playing a prank on another novitiate. Staying out past curfew and then trying to argue my way out of penitence. He’d say, ‘That’s my Katenka. Full of fire to the bitter end. Just like me.’” A fond and forlorn smile softened Katya’s features again.

“Katenka? That’s not a pet name I’d expect for you.” Gleb fought the amused look on his face.

“Don’t ever call me that.” A hint of menace lurked behind her dismissive tone, almost protective of the memory she’d just shared. Katya scowled at the floor between them as they sat in silence; the conversation was obviously dead.

“I miss my father, too.”  Gleb offered after a few minutes.

Katya looked up.

“He died about 10 years ago.” He continued.

“Mine died about that time, too. I suppose a lot of children lost fathers during the revolution.” Sadness and sympathy for those who had known her tinged Katya’s voice.

“His name was Sergei?” Gleb attempted to keep the conversation going now that it had been resurrected.

She raised an eyebrow as her lips pressed together and quirked to the side.  “No, his name  was Ivan.” An eye roll and a small smile of amused exasperation accompanied her sarcasm.

Gleb’s eyes flicked downward, then back to Katya as he realized the redundancy of asking someone he almost exclusively addressed as “Yekaterina Sergeyevna” her father’s name.

Sometimes he seemed more like a boy than an officer to Katya, a child wearing his father’s boots.

“Mine was Stepan.” Gleb brushed some dirt from his sleeve.

"Really, Gleb Stepanovich?  I never would have guessed." Katya emphasized his patronym.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they had known each other, given they died around the same time?” Gleb waited a second to see if Katya found it an interesting thought as well.

“We live in a country of more than 90,000 people. I think that’s rather unlikely.”

Gleb grimaced at his failed attempt at connection. A yawn caught him off guard.

“You should sleep. It’s a long train ride, like you said, and I got to rest on the last one.” Katya offered. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone suspicious.”

Gleb nodded and leaned back, appreciating the feeling of cushion rather than stone. Adrenaline could only carry a person so far, he figured. Sleep pulled him down into darkness quickly as he closed his eyes.

Katya looked at the sleeping form across from her. The Deputy Commissioner—former Deputy Commissioner—wasn’t unhandsome, not by any stretch of the imagination she decided. He was in fact very handsome when he deigned to smile. Which was seldom. She had only seen a true smile once or twice, not that tight-lipped half-grimace he often made. He, like all the other Bolsheviks Katya had had the pleasure of encountering, seemed to lack a sense of humor almost entirely or at least she had thought until that afternoon. Even so, he at least had more empathy than his comrades. He looked younger when he slept, granted he was young for his rank, but still.

The train’s great heave forward as it began to pull away from the station didn’t rouse Gleb in the slightest. He seemed already lost in dreams. Katya unthinkingly reached out and gently brushed his normally well-kept hair from his forehead. She hated to admit it, and perhaps it was just the shared bonds of running for one’s life, but she was growing fond of the former Bolshevik. She turned to look out the window again. Katya had never been to Minsk, hopefully the added time to the journey would be worth it.

[luna-paradoxz]

Quirkless creator

Summary -  Todoroki Shouto doesn't have a quirk but he wants to help people. U.A helps him realise that dreams and changes are something to be embraced. 

A/N-  Just a story idea that I decided to experiment with. if you liked it please review and I might expand the idea a bit more. ko-fi commissions.

He was born quirk less, something that greatly shocked his father. At first, his father had trained him resiliently assuming he was going to be the one with the perfect quirk that the man had always wanted. Then he had turned 7 and had still not manifested any quirk. The doctor's declaration was cold and straight to point, his toe was bent and he was quirkless. It had hurt him, his father ignored his existence, his siblings never approached him and he only had his mother. For a year though, she miscarried in April and in May she threw boiling water at his face. His right side had a nasty burn and her mother had been removed from his side. Since then he had always been alone and the loneliness had become his only friend.

It didn't matter though, he had gotten used to it. He was used to the bullying he faced in school and he was used to the ghost of a house. It was quite easy to get used to them, years pass and his heart just stops feeling. In the current society, this was the fate of every quirkless. He was still better than most of them as he still got a good education and could probably get a good enough job in the future. The only thing he will never have is a loved one but that is ok, humans can survive even if they are alone.

His harsh reality was his normality and he didn't find any fault in it.

He chose UA for his high school though and his sister had looked very uneasy when she had seen him off for his entrance exam. Since the last year of his junior high, his sister Fuyumi Todoroki had moved into his house and was living with him. She was trying her best to become family with him but things were still messy and awkward, he was still grateful for her effort. That is most anything has ever done for him, his mother had once loved him but he has forgotten her warmth, soon he will forget her voice and one day he will forget her face too. It can't be helped, she probably doesn't even want to see his face again and he won't torture her any more than she already is.

He had chosen the support school of UA as hero course was impossible for him. Support course only had a written test so it technically didn't matter if he doesn't have a quirk. Naturally, they assumed everyone had a quirk though and he doesn't even blink at there shocked faces when they learn he is quirkless. It is the usual thing but he is glad in UA at the least they just ignore his presence and didn't bully him, they still talked a lot behind his back but he ignored it. He has heard all those words a thousand times by now so he doesn't care. It is easier to not care than to care and after all.

It is still bad in UA because UA was UA and it is very shocking for a quirkless of all people to be here. With his fortune, he could have gone in another school quite easily but once in past he had wanted to be a hero just like All might, that dream had crashed quite quickly but a part of it remained. The part that wanted to help people in some way, to be a hero in some way. There were other jobs, they were many other jobs that saved people too but once he had visited UA's culture festival and had gotten chance to make a support device on his own, and a student had tried it.

He had made a simple jet gun for a water quirk and the student behind the stall had complimented him saying he had a talent for it. He had made his decision. They may not be a hero directly but because of them the heroes could work more effectively, save more people and defeat more Villians efficiently. He could be a hero behind the curtains and that was enough for him, for someone like him. He had joined the support course and he had been glad he had done it because he met someone who talked to him as an equal.

Hatsume Mei was an interesting person, she was genius and like a mad genius, she only cared about her creations and her ability to create. For her nothing else mattered, she didn't care he was quirkless as long as he could keep up with her ideas, discuss them with her and create things as par as her, she would talk to him. They were maybe friends, he doesn't know he has never had friends but he spent most of the time in school with her discussing all of their crazy creations and creating things in their teacher's lab. Power-sensei was a bit hard on them, always scolding them for the mess they create in his lab but he never kicked them out and listened to there endless brainstormings.

The school had become an oasis for him with Hatsume and Power-sensei there. They treated him like a normal person and talked to him like you would to anyone else, their topics were not normal but it was enough for him, enough to give provide him peace and strength to get through the three years of his high school. Everyone around them did make up all kinds of rumours like they might be dating but that was not possible. Hatsume saw him as a partner that was equal to her in the theoretical aspect of creations and he saw her as a good partner too who could care less about his status. He didn't harbour romantic feelings towards her or anyone for that matter and he never will probably because truly making friends was already impossible for him, lovers were out of the realm of the possibility. And not to be rude he doesn't think Hatsume will develop romantic feelings for someone that easily, at least not right now. Maybe in future when her dream of being the best creator becomes real, but right now she had only eyes for her creations and not anything else or anyone else. Heck, she didn't even study for the tests that resulted in many times for her being threatened to expulsion even though it has been only two months since they started school. Her genius creation ability was one of the few reasons Power-sensei handled her interesting personality and didn't kick her out of his class or school for that matter.

He doesn't want this scenery to change, this much is enough for him but change is an internal part of life and he learns this when he bumps with a girl with a fluffy ponytail and very honest eyes. He was walking in corridors to the canteen to get some lunch. He was listening to Hatsume as she went on about a new power suit she was developing, he was a bit out of it today. The lessons had been quite content filled and he needs to review them again to understand everything, as he ruminated on one of these topics, about thermodynamics. He didn't notice her walking straight towards him. She had turned to the girls beside her, with a blush of her pale skin as she tried to deny something they were teasing her about. She didn't notice until last minute as they crashed right into each other and both let out a groan as they jumped back. He rubbed his chin and she, her forehead as they blinked at the suddenness. They looked at each other and both immediately bowed and apologized, and then moved on.

He heard her friends whispering as they glanced at his back and he sighed. He stepped on something though and looks down to see a notebook under his foot and immediately picks it up. He turns but its owner is already far too ahead for him to call her out. So he looks at it and reads his name,

'Yayorozu Momo, class 1-A' He heaves a heavy sigh.

He thinks it is just his luck that he bumped into someone from A class of all people. She will probably get embarrassed if he gave it to her in front of everyone so he turns to Hatsmue to ask her to deliver it but the girl has just been waiting for him to right himself again so they can go back to the topic. She ignores him as she starts rambling again and he lets out another sigh. He doesn't talk to anyone else in his class, and telling his teacher was far too embarrassing and knowing Power-sensei he will probably glare at him and ask him to do it himself. So he decides he will wait for her at the entrance since he knows A class finishes quite late and there will be only some people around that time.

He is hoping he can finish it quickly with least exposure as he sits down on one of the benches and pulls out his notebook and starts doing some of his homework. As time passes, the last bell rings loudly and he closes the book as he looks up and starts searching for the black-haired girl he bumped into. The girl is quite noticeable with her tall height and her signature ponytail tied so high. He makes way quickly, 'go in fast and get out fast' was his tactic. He appeared in front of her literally out of nowhere. She almost gasped as she stopped with another girl and they look at him strangely. He ignores it as he thrusts out her notebook and shows it to her. She takes it cautiously as she recognises her book and immediately realizes.

She looks up to him and smiles wide, her eyes softening considerably and it is such a friendly look that he feels safe with her,"Thank you so much for returning this."

He nods as turns away and quickly walks away, not waiting for them to say anything else or make any stupid assumptions. But it lingers in his head as he walks home, her smile and that soft eyes. They looked so friendly towards him, he has hardly seen those kinds of eyes towards him. It was kindness with no motive attach to it and it has stuck in his mind. She feels like a hero and he smiles slightly as he thinks,

'She will make a good hero.'

[flightsoffandom]

When You’re Away

Pairs: Tony Stark x Gender-Neutral Reader

Words: 1704

Summary: After going to visit some friends Tony and you have been apart for a few days. When Steve gives you a call you can’t help but worry.

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral. This One-Shot came from this headcanon of mine.

Dating Tony could defiantly be a challenge at times. The thing is wasn’t dating anyone a challenge in some shape or form. So you saw your relationship with Tony as no different. It was also so worth every second of trouble in your opinion. He is sweet and loves to show you off every chance he can. When he is talking to people he always found a way to bring you up and brag about anything you were doing. No matter how mundane. He also had a problem with spoiling you. Extravagant gifts and trips were the way Tony showed that he cared. You could have done without them but you appreciated the thought that went into it all. Also, you would be lying if now and then you didn’t ask him for something you wanted. Or buy it yourself with one of the many cards he had given you. But you refused to abuse it, that’s not what you were in this relationship for. The first year or so could be rocky at times, but you both made it through. You had to see through the sarcasm and when him being an asshole was just a defense mechanism. After that year though everything did calm down a bit. For a man with commitment issues, he seems to have taken to a committed relationship well. Sure there were still issues, every couple had them. You’ll also admit, contrary to what Tony might say or believe. He wasn’t the only person that messed up in the relationship, you messed up all the time too. It was a ride, to say the least, but one you didn’t plan on stopping.

You couldn’t even remember what the fight was about. ‘Fight’ felt like too big of a word, ‘disagreement’ was maybe a better fit. It was the timing though that made it worse. Just a poorly timed disagreement that happened right before you left to go see some friends. It had already been a few days and whatever the problem was had already slipped your mind. Worrying about Tony though, you had a feeling he would see it as his fault even though that wasn’t the case. Hopping on a self-piloted plane that Tony lets you use, you were ready to meet him back at the house. You had tried a few calls and texts but when he slips into his work the outside world fades away. Taking your seat you already felt a bit nervous but you were more than ready to get back home. A bit into the flight your phone rang. When you picked up the phone. It was none other than Steve Rogers, “Hey I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Steve rarely called you. You knew something was wrong. Automatically worried you quickly asked, “Not at all, Is everything okay? Did something happen?” You held your breath. Your mind playing over all the things that could have accidentally happened to Tony. Steve sighed, “Well…” He pauses, “Its nothing serious.” The panic hasn’t left your brain so you snap at the man on the other side of the phone, “Spit it out, Steve! Please… you’re scaring me.” Steve sounds embarrassed when he replies, “Well I don’t know what happened.” You hear strange voices in the background. Steve continues talking. “But I woke up this morning and everything in the kitchen started talking to me.” You scrunch up your nose and start thinking. You can’t help but facepalm, “Tony came to visit didn’t he... and he starting tinkering with things.” The weird voices in the background continue as Steve pleads with you, “Yes. Can you please come get him? I don’t know if I can handle any more inanimate objects suddenly coming to life.” Even though Steve can’t see you, you nod as you respond, “Of Course, I’ll be right there.” You immediately tell F.R.I.D.A.Y. to have the plane change course and head for the Compound. You settle in for a few more hours of flying time.

As soon as the plane landed you could see Steve already waiting for you. You could see the poor Captain was rubbing the back of his neck through the window. Once it’s safe you sprint down the landing stairs and off the aircraft, over to Steve, “How bad is it?” Steve follows you and makes an uncertain noise, “Well, he has almost finished with the kitchen. So luckily its currently contained.” You walk up to the Compound before opening one of the glass doors. Moving inside you can already hear AC/DC playing loudly. You smile a bit and make your way over to the kitchen. Steve breaks off from you and gives you some space while still staying close enough to observe. Right when you get to the edge of the room a voice coming from somewhere alerts Tony of your presence. Tony looks up and you can see his tired brown eyes light up, “Honey?” He turns the music down and looks around at the tools he has laying about. Tony looks like a mess but you’re relieved to see him safe. You smile and ask, “Everything okay?” He nods, pushing one pile into another as if that will hide the mess, “Yeah. Fine… Uhh... Perfect even.” He coughs hesitantly, “If I knew you were coming I would have met you when you landed.” Tony keeps pushing his mess around trying to camouflage it, “I would have cleaned up.” You start walking towards him. However, as soon as you enter the kitchen, voices erupt from the appliances. You jump as the stove, microwave, fridge, sink and so many other things all greet you in different voices. Standing there wide eyes and startled, Tony grabs a tool. “Their timing is a bit off.” Tony waves a screwdriver at you as he states, “But they are really helping everyone in the Compound.” You turn to see Steve, meeking skirting the edge of the kitchen. Steve shakes his head in silent protest to Tony’s statement. You finish walking over to Tony, gently grabbing his free hand. “This was very…” Understanding why Steve is freaked out. You look around and then continue, “Considerate… of you to make these for the people that live here. Do you have them set so they can turn them off sometimes? Just so it’s not scaring someone in the middle of the night.” Tony nods thoughtfully, “That’s a good idea… I should add that.” You place your hand on the side of his face, turning him to look at you before giving him a kiss. Tony eagerly kisses you back. You pull away and tease him, “Come on what are you waiting for? Show me what all they can do.” Though disappointed when the kiss ended, Tony perks right back up. Tony jumps straight into telling you every single thing he programmed the AI’s to do and to help with. Tony was brilliant and it was fascinating to listen to him, seeing how his brain worked. You could already see his stress melt away as he talked to you. Tony always had the best intentions at heart. Really just wanting to take care of everyone important to him. You couldn’t help but smile the whole time he rambled on. Listening to every last word and making sure to show your genuine interest.

When Tony finally finished going over everything he already looked a lot better. The tired look in his eyes lingers through and you knew he needed some rest. Grabbing Tony’s hand you give him a loving tug, “Let’s go home, we both need some sleep.” Tony is already following your lead as he agrees, “Yes, sleep is good.” You waved at Steve as you passed him. Steve mouthed a ‘thank you’ as you walked outside the Compound. Tony trailed behind you for a few steps but you slow down so you can walk side by side. You turn to look at Tony, “You know every time we argue its not your fault, right? Tony dismissively shakes his head, “I’m a difficult person to live with. I-” You roll your eyes and interrupt him, “Everyone is difficult to live with for one reason or another.” Making it to the plane, you stop. You look him right in the eyes to show how serious you are, “That doesn’t make everything your fault.” Tony rolls his eyes and sarcastically says, “Sure everything’s not my fault… just most things are.” You frown at him, “That’s not true… whatever makes you think that isn’t true.” You try your best to get him to understand, “I’m not going anywhere and I love you, Tony.” You give him a quick kiss to try and drive the point home. Once you break it you make your way onto the plane and get into a seat. Tony follows shortly after you. Tony sits across from you. He faces you as the plane starts to take off. Tony stares at you for a few moments, just taking in your face. He spoke up, “You know how sometimes you don’t realize how comforting something is until it’s not there anymore.” He pauses, thinking and then continuing, “Like the cool side of a pillow... you never truly appreciate it until you need to get away from the hot side...” Tony ruminates and then adds another example, “Or Music... Of course, you enjoy it when its around but when everything goes completely silent then you realize how much the music meant to you and how comforting was.” Tony watched your face, seeing if he had gotten his point across. You smile and give him an uncertain nod, “I believe I understand what your trying to say.” Tony was bad with emotions but you knew what to look for in his actions and his words when he talked. Tony sighs, looking out the window trying to collect himself. “I’m talking about you.” He turns to look into your eyes, “You are comforting to me.” You beam at him. Tony takes your hand ever so gently, “I just want you to know that...” Tony holds your hand like your going to float away before finishing his statement, “I miss you when you’re away.”

[thefreckledone]

Pompeii 52

“Where are you going?”

Sakura turned, refusing to jump as she met Yamato’s gaze. She was hypervigilant and she knew it, flinching at the smallest of sounds. There was a storm swirling within Yamato’s eyes and Sakura resisted the urge to sigh. She did not have the energy for the fight Yamato was bound to pose in response to her plans. “I am going into town.”

“No.”

Sakura crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders as she stared Yamato down. “No? Are you going to forcibly stop me?”

Yamato fidgeted, eyes darting away from her before almost unwillingly being dragged back into her orbit. “That isn’t what I meant Sakura.”

“Yamato, you know I don’t like having decisions made for me,” Sakura said, keeping her voice even. “I know you hate it too.”

“Pompeii isn’t safe,” Yamato replied. “They were burning effigies of you scant weeks ago! What is there preventing them from trying to harm you now?”

“Moving from an effigy to the actual person is a severe escalation,” Sakura said. “Besides, I still have friends in town.” At least, she thought so. Certainly, there were people in the aftermath who outright declared allegiance to the “Sakura camp.” Sakura had no idea what weight these verbal allegiances would hold, but she certainly considered them suspect. “I need to purchase a few things.”

“Why not use online shopping?” Yamato asked. “Or I could go into town and purchase what you need for you?”

Sakura shook her head resolutely. “No Yamato. This is important to me. I need to go into town myself, see the people there, let them see me in return.” Sakura sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “If there is any chance for reconciliation down the road--and I am not saying that there is--then I have to actually be around these people.”

Sakura paused, throat burning with the threat of bile. Even now, the memories of the town, her home, shifting from apprehension to suspicion to fear and finally to hatred towards her were still incredibly vivid. When she dwelt too long on everything that happened, on the scars that were so much deeper than skin, Sakura nearly drowned in the pain. She didn’t want that; she hated the jagged, broken feelings still within her, like puzzle pieces that just did not fit anymore.

“This is something that I need to do for myself,” Sakura said. “If I want to heal and move on--” Sakura’s hands fluttered up to her neck, tracing across the scars gouged out there by Kaguya’s hands. “--I have to return to Pompeii. I have to put those demons to bed myself.”

Yamato reached out ever so gently, taking the hands that clutched at her throat. He unfurled Sakura’s white-knuckled hands, rubbing circles until she loosened her grasp completely. His eyes were sad as his fingers traced the irritated skin of her scars. “I understand,” he said, feeling the column of her throat. “I’m sorry that you are suffering under this burden. May I go with you into town?”

“It is kind of you to offer,” Sakura said, unbothered by the fact that Yamato’s hands were still on her throat. Unlike with Kaguya, this gesture from Yamato was not threatening at all. Sakura trusted him completely; Yamato would never do anything to hurt her. “However, this is something I need to do on my own.”

Yamato’s eyes slid shut, expression pained for a moment. “Of course. I was worried you would say that.”

Sakura laughed, the column of her throat rippling beneath his touch. Yamato couldn’t get enough of the feel, the proof of Sakura’s continued livelihood. “I’ve always been a difficult individual but I am afraid you are stuck with me.”

“You’re the opposite of difficult,” Yamato said frankly. “Stay safe while you are in town. If you need anything while you’re there, text me. I’ll be there.”

Sakura grinned, moving out of Yamato’s grasp as she leaned in and popped a kiss against his cheek. “You’re wonderful. I’ll see you soon!”

Yamato watched her go, contemplative. As she disappeared from view, he raised a hand to his face, touching the spot Sakura kissed. Despite his continued concern over Sakura’s visit to town, Yamato couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face. He turned back to the building and headed inside to sit on the roof, waiting to receive Sakura’s call or see her safely home, whichever came first.

0Despite her fierce defense of her decision to enter town, Sakura still found herself hesitating as she approached. The trees, once her enemy and now a source of comfort to her, began to thin, a universal indicator of civilization.

And yet Sakura couldn’t get the thought of burning effigies, mob mentalities, and scapegoat sacrifices out of her mind. She swallowed around her suddenly dry throat, lifting a hand to her the single scar on her face, across her forehead where the branch she used to stab Kaguya caught her too. It ached sharply and she shook her head against the sudden disorientation that nearly blinded her.

When her vision cleared, Sakura was standing in front of a small shopping strip. She glanced around at the signs, blinking when she realized she recognized Kimimaro’s dentistry.

This was her old office.

Sakura assessed the strip with new eyes, impressed by just how much had changed in the scant months since everything went down. The last time she was here, really here, Sai was injured, Yamato kidnapped, and the clinic in ruins.

Now, the building was erected once more, in cleaner, crisper lines than before. It looked nice aesthetically but something about it was empty.

Maybe it was the fact that it reeked of Senju intervention.

Something in her chest eased and relaxed, something that she had no idea was even out of sorts. 

This was no longer her home.

Certainly, she still had her memories, those rosy, idealized thoughts when she first arrived in Pompeii. She didn’t cling to those exactly, though she found herself ruminating on the way they popped like the flimsy soap bubbles they were.

The memories that Sakura carried near and dear to her heart though were those of the people who occupied her clinic and home. And, looking at the remote, distant storefront that was once the center of her world, Sakura found that she did not feel anything for it. It was nothing but a shallowly pretty thing, with nothing in it now but stale air. 

The parts about it that once mattered to Sakura left with its initial destruction. Her home, her people, were safe elsewhere and Sakura couldn’t keep from smiling.

Once upon a time, the destruction of this place meant the shattering of her world at its very foundations.

Now?

Well, her world continued spinning on.

“Sakura?”

Sakura stiffened, head pounding as she kept still, allowing her eyes to flick to the side. Damn. She should have been paying attention to the corvids that lingered here.

“Uchiha,” Sakura greeted coolly, watching Sasuke approach from the corner of her eye. He seemed unkempt, flustered in a way she had never seen him. “What brings you here?”

He just watched her, almost desperately, eyes flickering between red and gray as he took her in. Sasuke’s hands fluttered like he wanted to reach out and grab her, ensure himself that she wasn’t a mere phantom.

“Well?” Sakura asked, staring him down with a hard look. He had been among the first to cast blame upon her, the vitriol that spewed from his mouth still poison bubbling beneath her skin. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are,” Sasuke said, heat high in his cheeks. 

Sakura just crossed her arms as Sasuke fidgeted.

“I just...I needed to make sure you’re alright,” Sasuke muttered. “Our birds aren’t allowed in your territory.” Sakura wasn’t sure if one of the Uchiha made that rule or if one of her roommates enforced it. “After everything that happened, I had to see.”

“I’m not alright,” Sakura said bluntly, taking no satisfaction in the way he flinched. Truthfully, she was tired and realized that this was the first of many, many conversations she would be having with Pompeii’s residents today. “But I’m getting better.”

The ‘no thanks to you’ lingered between them, almost palpable. 

“Sakura, I wanted to visit, I wanted to…” Sasuke swallowed, unable to swallow his pride enough to apologize even now.

“No,” Sakura said, shaking her head. “You didn’t. Not really. If you really wanted to, you would have. It’s as simple as that.” She rubbed her arm, uncomfortable with his proximity. She couldn’t forget the ugliness in his confrontations with her and Sai. “It isn’t my job to alleviate your guilt; you’ll have to figure that bit out yourself. Now, could you leave me be? I have errands to run.”

Sasuke stepped back and his face twisted for a moment, briefly mirroring that disgust he once directed her way months ago, before falling to shame. Sakura felt a savage pulse through her scars as she realized that Sasuke came here just to assuage his own feelings, undoubtedly hoping for an easy forgiveness.

He wasn’t going to get it.

Not from her. Not right now.

Sakura wasn’t particularly angry anymore, that rage burnt brightly and quickly, collapsing on itself within the first few weeks following her showdown with Kaguya. What remained was an ineffable sadness, lingering and clinging to her and all her memories involving the majority of Pompeii’s sadness.

Sakura didn’t hold a grudge toward any of them; it was too overwhelming and exhausting. But she didn’t trust any of them and that was the crux of the matter.

She couldn’t forgive and she certainly couldn’t forget what happened.

Sasuke cleared his throat, cheeks flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, I will leave you to it, Sakura.”

Sakura nodded and watched as he turned, transformed, and flew away. She looked at the corvids that still lingered in the area, meeting their red, judging eyes. Sakura shrugged at them, taking one last look at her former home before continuing on her journey into town.

0Sakura kept her head high as she balanced her groceries on one arm, the gazes of the citizens around her like a brand. Few dared approach her and she had seen neither hide nor hair of any of the Senju or Uzumaki.

Well, aside from the posters.

Everywhere she walked, Itama Senju’s face was plastered on signs, telling the people of Pompeii that a vote for Itama was a vote for order.

Sakura snorted, shaking her head wryly. It seemed that the Senju’s fall from grace taught them nothing. Sakura thought that maybe, just maybe, their public dressing down at the hands of Tsunade would dissuade the Senju, but she supposed that just was not the way of things. 

Instead, the Senju moved forward with the same old message, just with another face as the leader.

One who seemed malleable, perhaps even a bit simple-minded. Certainly, Sakura had never heard of Itama before this election.

Sakura pressed on toward Kakuzu’s shop, shifting her mind away from politics. It was not her problem. She had lost herself once in the goings on of Pompeii and been scorned for it. Sakura would focus on her group of people and leave the rest of Pompeii to itself. Let the people of Pompeii consume themselves like Ouroboros; they were not her responsibility.

She paused as she caught a wash of pink on one of the posters. Sakura turned her attention to it, blanching as she took it all in. It was a photo of her, candid from the looks of it. Sakura wasn’t entirely sure who took it, but it looked like it was soon after her fight to the death with Kaguya. Her head, ears, and eyes had remnants of rusty blood that lingered from the battle. She was staring off at something in the distance, the line of her mouth hard and stubborn. Sakura thought it might have been taken about fifteen minutes before she passed out.

Unlike Itama’s poster, this one was obviously homemade, with a handwritten slogan that read, “The People’s Candidate: Pompeii’s True Maiden.” Sakura’s hands scrabbled at the poster, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Her vision tunneled, staring into her own bright green eyes, lined in rust and gold ichor. What had she been thinking at that moment?

Probably about how much she wanted a stack of waffles, strawberries, and whipped cream before taking a nap.

And people thought she would make a good political leader?

Sakura clutched the poster, tearing it down from the wall. She couldn’t handle this. Not today. Not on top of everything else she dealt with today.

Sakura turned on her heel, ignoring the sharpened focus of passerby, as she started heading out of town. She would text Kakuzu later and apologize; for now, she just wanted to go home.

Sakura put her back to the posters, swallowing as she realized that there were even more of her with different personalized slogans.

She rubbed at the scars on her neck, letting the rough textures ground her as she walked away. She’d made a little bit of progress today and she needed to be satisfied with that.

0Sakura inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of cooking brussel sprouts and bacon as she stirred the skillet. Her shoulders eased, tension leaving her body as good memories of late nights of cooking before a 3 AM shift fill her mind. Those were stressful times as she struggled through coursework and a crazy work schedule. Yet, they were somehow simpler as she had a good support system around her to keep her from falling apart.

And, when she did fall apart, they were there to catch her.

Sakura frowned, brow furrowing as she reminisced over that support system. She clutched her neck as phantom pain pulsed through her scars.

When was the last time she spoke with Ami or anyone else from New York?

“Sakura?”

Sakura turned, train of thought slipping away as she smiled at Dosu. He skulked closer, looking strangely intimidating. Sakura didn’t mind him though, as she knew that it was just the way he walked.

“Hey Dosu, how are you doing?” Sakura said, beckoning closer.

“I’m well,” Dosu said, voice gravelly and eyes alight with interest. “I spent time today on the roof watching the clouds. I did not know they were capable of so much change. Did you know that clouds sometimes take on shapes of things?”

Sakura stifled a laugh at the eagerness that lined his face. “And what shapes did you see?”

“I saw a rose and a house and a mouse and a book,” Dosu sighed happily. “You know, we saw a lot of the sky when we were staying in that abandoned logging mill. But I never really saw it, you know?”

“Well, you had a lot on your mind,” Sakura said delicately. “It’s hard to appreciate beauty when you’re fighting for survival.”

Dosu hummed in agreement. He peeked around her, hovering there awkwardly for a moment before hooking his chin over her shoulder and resting it there. “What are you cooking?”

“Brussel sprouts and bacon,” Sakura said.

“What are brussel sprouts?”

Sakura speared one of the sprouts, making sure to get bacon on the fork before lifting it to Dosu. He leaned forward, but he didn’t take a bite.

“Dosu?”

“Is it supposed to be green?” Dosu said after a few moments.

“Yes,” Sakura replied, jolting slightly. “Have you-are you not used to vegetables?”

Dosu furrowed his brows. “I don’t know. We weren’t really fed in the laboratory; we were hooked up to feeding tubes when they wanted to give us sustenance.” His lip curled in disgust. “Once we got out of the lab, we ate whatever we could find. It wasn’t the most intuitive process to scavenge for solids. But we tended to rummage in the dumpsters and whatever we could get out of the ground or the river. The green things we ate weren’t supposed to be green.” He shuddered, the movement running through Sakura too. “We learned that quickly that mold is not really fit for human consumption, certainly not in large amounts.”

Sakura lifted her free hand to touch Dosu’s face, leaning against him. “I am so sorry to hear that, Dosu. I know there is nothing that I can do to change the past, but I hope I can help with making better memories in the future.” She moved the fork around, trying to make it appear tempting. “I think you’ll like the brussel sprouts. They shouldn’t make your stomach hurt.”

Dosu took the bite from the fork. Sakura waited with bated breath as he ate, grinning as he hummed in satisfaction.

“It’s delicious,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I glad to hear it,” Sakura said softly. “To making new memories.”

“To making new, better memories,” Dosu said. “May I have a plate please?”

0Sakura stared into her mirror, brushing her hair out of her face. It was getting quite long now, curling below her collarbones. Her eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion and her skin pale with lack of being outdoors. She couldn’t say that she looked good, but she certainly looked better than she did beneath the harsh fluorescents at work.

It had been a tiring week and Sakura was glad for her three day break. And she was planning to start it off with an indulgent bath.

Yamato had built the bathroom in a way that seemed right out of Sakura’s childhood fantasies: tiled mosaics, walk-in showers, enormous clawfoot bathtub, high ceilings, and a fancy hanging chandelier made out of various bits and bobs that her roommates had found. Most were precious stones and minerals, some of which Sakura couldn’t even name. It was absurdly gorgeous, an eclectic dream right out a magazine.

It was a place where Sakura could experience complete relaxation and she drew hot water into the bathtub. She poured eucalyptus and mint bubble bath in, sitting on the edge of the tub as it began to fill.

Sakura felt a zinging sensation travel through her scars and she lifted her hands to them. She stood, staring into the mirror. The scar across her forehead was raised and white, the newly formed skin stretched thin and taut like the covering of a drum. The scars left by Kaguya’s nails, however, were hypertrophic, raised and an angry red, redder still when she turned her head and stretched the skin of her neck. They blazed, demanding the attention of anyone who dared to look at her, dared them to see what she survived.

Though they pulsed with pain, Sakura could not see any difference to them.

Sakura.

Sakura shuddered, glancing around as she cinched her robe tighter. The call of her name seemed similar to the way Kaguya spoke with her telepathically, yet not. The voice was different, fainter.

No one was there.

She frowned, slowly releasing her robe as she stared at herself in the mirror.

Sakura raised a hand to her head, which was beginning to ache. She was just overtired. 

That was all.

It had to be all.

Sakura dropped her robe and climbed into the bath, closing her eyes as she repeated that mantra over and over again.

[allisondraste]

Temperance (29/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:    Nathaniel loses his cool.

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

“Thank you for coming to meet with me again,” Anora said politely as Nathaniel entered her study, and used every ounce of his willpower to hide his annoyance at her unfortunate timing.

“It is my pleasure, your majesty,” he stated, forcing a smile and closing the door behind him.

So close.  He’d been so close to finally saying everything he’d wanted to say to Liss for the past—what was it now? Seventeen years?— to explaining to her why he hadn’t written, to apologizing for having his head up his own arse.  He had no idea how she’d take it all, but that moment in the market, when she’d looked at him as she had the night before he left Highever that last time, gave him hope. It also gave him every reason to resent that he was standing in the queen’s office rather than Liss’ quarters.  

“You need not flatter me, Nathaniel,”Anora answered with a smirk, motioning for him to sit.  He had forgotten that he’d even flattered her.

He sat down in the chair across from her desk and crossed his arms.  “What is it that you need, your majesty?”

Anora bit her lip and exhaled an uncharacteristically shaky breath. “I am certain you are aware of the upheaval the Grey Wardens’ actions in Amaranthine have caused.”

“Better than most, I’m sure.”

“More specifically, the discontent with the current arlessa,” she explained, “There is… concern that she is acting out of her own interests.”

Nathaniel laughed irreverently. “Lucia? With all due respect, your majesty, if setting herself on fire could have saved Amaranthine, she would have done so long before she torched the city.”

“I am familiar enough with the Warden-Commander to know this; however, my council is… unconvinced.  The people of Amaranthine are unconvinced.”

“I figured as much,” he sighed, “Let me guess: They are all very concerned about my presence as well.”

“Hardly, although Eamon insists on playing that card,” she remarked with a bitter laugh, “Arl Bryland has suggested that the arling be returned to your family.”

Nathaniel blinked a few times as if it would help him to hear the words better.  “What? ” He laughed. “I find that incredibly difficult to believe.  My uncle has no love for my family.”

“Perhaps not,” Anora admitted,”And that is not why he made the suggestion.”

“Then why?”

“Despite the fallacy of the claims, there are many in Ferelden who still believe that the Wardens are responsible for the losses at Ostagar.  Even those who don’t are concerned with the growing political power of a formerly exiled Order, one that claims to be without political affiliation.  It is causing a level of unrest with which I am uncomfortable.”

Nathaniel leaned forward.  “I see your point, but… I am a Warden.  Transferring the arling to me would not make a difference.”

“That is why I intend to give it to Delilah,” Anora said with a knowing smile, “What do you think?”

A weight fell from his shoulders and his chest swelled.  It made so much sense. Delilah was brilliant and responsible.  As far as he knew, she managed affairs in Amaranthine to the best of her ability while  father played his games. Not to mention it would put the necessary distance between the Wardens and any sort of political authority. “I think that it is a brilliant idea.”

“It is my hope that her taking the title of Arlessa will settle the voices of dissenters, and I am certain she will be sympathetic to the Warden cause, allowing them—you—to maintain a stronghold at Vigil’s Keep.”

Nathaniel nodded, but remembered his sister’s flight from Ferelden with her merchant husband and the baby she carried, and frowned. It seemed cruel and unfair to ask her to leave the quiet life she now had, a life that was desirable to petty Fereldan politics.  Yet, there were no other viable options. Tom was, for all intents and purposes, deceased, and Nathaniel had gotten himself conscripted into the very order that the nobility mistrusted. Once again, Delilah’s peace and happiness would be sacrificed because he failed to be the big brother she deserved.

“You appear concerned,” Anora remarked matter-of-factly, snapping him from his ruminations.

He laughed, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Delilah is going to hate this.  She was finally happy.”

“I know.  I am sorry.” She paused and sighed.  “Do you think she will still accept, if asked.”

“Without question.” He nodded his head affirmatively.

“Good.  I shall send word to her as soon as I can.”  She flashed a brief smile that held only sympathy for the decision she had to make. “Thank you, Nathaniel.  That will be all.”

“Yes, your majesty,” he answered quickly, standing and bowing his head before exiting the room.  

Just stepping outside the study, hearing the door click behind him as the hallway extended in front of him, his pulse jumped.  Nothing stood in the way of his confession to Liss now, and nothing excused him from it. He had never been more ready for anything in his life, and yet he felt completely unprepared. He knew he should just do it, but convinced himself that it would help him to read his letter he wrote to her one last time, as if he could forget what it said.  

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out the small envelope, removed the parchment, and unfolded it.  His heart sank at the first words on the page. “Dear Tom” was not his letter to Liss. Then where—

“Shit,” he muttered, and shoved the letter back in its envelope.  He turned down the corridor that led to the main hall, rather than continuing to the guest wing.  Taking both envelopes with him had been a horrible decision among a million other horrible decisions that now replayed themselves in his mind.

It had only been an hour or so since Nathaniel stood in the Market District with Liss, and it seemed a different place entirely.  It was much louder, busier, as people pushed past one another, bumping shoulders and grumbling. He wove his way through groups of chattering people, muttering “excuse me’s” and apologies, until he reached the wooden door to the smithy.  It was an odd trade for a former Antivan Crow, but the woman called Bria still seemed to be quite adept at blacksmithing. If earlier events were any indication, she knew Liss as well.

He pushed the door open quickly, a wave of heat smacking into his face, and warming the tip of his chilled nose.  At the forge, Bria stopped her work and looked up at him with an enormous smile filled with mischief.  

“Ah,” she exclaimed, “I knew you would be back.”

“You knew?

“Mhmm.” She walked away from the forge and moved behind the counter, bending down, and popping back up with a familiar envelope held loosely between her fingers. “I do not think this is the letter you want to send to your Thomas.”

Nathaniel’s face grew warm in such a way that he knew it was not from the forge. “You read it?”

“Of course not.” She turned the envelope so that he could see the front, lips turning up into a small smirk. “It is addressed to Lady Elissa. You were quite flustered when she walked in, yes?”

“I suppose I was,” he admitted, unable to hide the undoubtedly ridiculous smile that spread across his face. “That would explain why I gave you the wrong letter.”

He took Liss’ letter from Bria’s hand, tucking it firmly into his coat, and giving her the letter intended for Tom.  She snatched it playfully and eyed him with a perplexed expression, clicking her tongue.

“What,” he asked, frowning at her.

“It seems to me that you should be doing much more than writing her letters,” she said, with a wink, before bending down to place Tom’s letter under the counter.

“Why would you think that?”

Bria chuckled knowingly and raised back up, leaning forward so that her elbows were on the countertop. “You love her.  It is written all over your pretty face.”

“You are perceptive.”

“In my profession, being perceptive is imperative.”

“Blacksmithing?”  Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow up at her and smirked.

“Blacksmithing,” she replied with a nod and another mischievous smile.

There was a brief moment of silence between them and he cleared his throat to speak.  “I should… head back to the castle.”

“You should.” Bria grinned broadly, eyes glimmering with amusement.

He nodded, ignoring the heat that still lingered in his face and the sinking pit in his stomach as he left the shop and made his way to the castle.  

Nathaniel returned to the guest wing, pausing briefly to pull the letter from his coat and read his own words again, a reminder of all that he wanted to say.  It did nothing to ease his anxiety, of course, and he knew there was only one solution. She was just down the hall, in her quarters, and no doubt tired of waiting for him.  It would be as quick as knocking on her door and as painless as swallowing his pride.  

The door to her quarters looked just as the doors to any of the other rooms, just as his own guest room.  There was nothing special about the door, other than who lay beyond it. He laughed at the thought of all the times she’d shown up at his door during their childhood.  How she’d seemingly given no second thought to rapping out a rhythm with her knuckles. If only he were so uninhibited.

Willing his hand to the smooth, wooden surface, he knocked three times.  There was no answer, but the door moved under his touch. It had not even been closed all the way.  He pushed it open hesitantly. “Liss?”

Liss didn’t answer, but he caught a glimpse of her as he peered past the door and into the room.  She lay face down on the bed, a mass of blond curls springing up from the pillow. He entered the room completely and approached her, noticing how her body rose and fell with each slow breath.  Her head was turned to the side, so that her face was visible past a lock or two of hair. Her lips twitched as well as did her hand that lay on the pillow next to her face. The sheets and coverlet were a bundled mess around her, undoubtedly failing at their function of keeping her warm.

Nathaniel bent down and took hold of the covers, straightening them out, and pulling them up to cover Liss’ nearly-bare arms.  As he did so, something on her shoulder caught his eye. In a spot where her hair had conveniently parted , just near the curve of her neck was a long, deep mark, a scar left by a sword or an axe.  No matter how he tried to avoid the image of her wounded, bleeding, stumbling about to escape her own home, he couldn’t. He ached at the thought of how alone she must have felt in that moment, how afraid.  If only he had been there.

Liss roused slightly and rolled beneath the blankets.  Her eyes flickered open, barely, and she looked up at him. “Nate?”  Her voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep.  

“It’s me,” he whispered, reaching out to brush one of her wild curls from her face, “Go back to sleep.  We can talk later.”

She smiled, groggily, eyes fluttering shut as she brought her hand up to cover his. A soft chuckle escaped him and he allowed his hand to linger on her cheek for a moment before pulling away.  If he’d ever been uncertain of his feelings for her, that small exchange would have him convinced. Maker, he was hopeless.  

He turned to exit the room, pulling the door closed as gently as he could so as to not wake her again.   It was only early evening, and a large part of him wanted her to be awake. It was an impatient thought, a selfish one, and he refused to give in to it.  The woman hadn’t slept much at all the night before, and he would not disturb her.

Nathaniel walked back down the hall, passing his own room, and heading toward Lucia’s.  He had not spoken with the Warden-Commander since the night before, and she’d been rather upset.  He worried for her, and thought to check in. It would pass the time and give him a chance to break the news to her about Amaranthine if she did not already know.

When he reached Lucia’s room,  he stopped at the door and knocked.  There were noises of someone fumbling about on the other side, and then the door swung open.  

“Nathaniel,” she said, eyes widening as if startled to see him.

“Busy?”

“No.” She shook her head and opened the door further. “Come in.”

He entered the room and waited for Lucia to close the door and return.  She sat down gently in a sturdy wooden chair by the fireplace, and motioned for him to sit in one of the other available chairs near her. He did so, watching as she fidgeted in her seat uncharacteristically.

“Have you spoken with Queen Anora, yet,” she asked.

“I have.  I had wondered if you knew about her plans for my sister.”

“I do,” she said, blinking  as she gazed into the fire, “To be quite honest, I am relieved.  This is far beyond what I signed up for when I joined the Wardens.”

“And what exactly did you sign up for?”

“Freedom,” Lucia remarked, bringing her sharp eyes to meet his, “I was conscripted after I attempted to escape Kinloch Hold with a friend of mine and his lover.  We were caught, and in his desperation he used blood magic to flee. The Templars wanted to make me Tranquil or execute me for ‘conspiring with a blood mage.’ I would be dead—or worse— if it were not for the Grey Wardens.”

“I had… no idea.”

“I don’t talk about it much.  Those are not my favorite memories,” she explained, “Needless to say, I am more than happy to give up my title to your sister.  From what I know of her, she will be a far better arlessa than I could ever hope to be.”

Nathaniel offered her a smile, and nodded, unable to find any words that felt appropriate for the circumstances.  Lucia appeared to accept the gesture, and turned her eyes back to the dancing flames under the mantle. After several moments of silence passed between them, he brought himself to speak again. “I actually came to see how you are today.  I know that you were rather upset when we spoke last night.”

Lucia heaved a heavy sigh and the hint of a smile curved at the edges of her mouth.  “I’m all right, I suppose.”

“Better than last night?”

“Definitely.” She nodded. “I took some time to think about what you and I discussed.  I gave myself permission to be angry, and then the anger dissipated.”

“Sometimes that is all it takes.”

“I am still hurt, of course. I think I will be hurt for a long time,” she explained, wringing her hands in her lap, “That does nothing to change my feelings for Alistair. We’ve never been perfect, but we’ve survived so much together.  Certainly we can solve this as well.”

“What are Alistair’s feelings on the matter,” Nathaniel asked, hoping his question was not too intrusive.

To his relief, she did not seem offended, and turned to look at him again as she answered.  “He thinks we need to talk more about what happened between us, to process it all. I’d rather not have to.”  She laughed dryly. “He’s probably right, isn’t he?”

Nathaniel laughed in return.  “Unfortunately, I believe he is.”

As their conversation died down, a tense silence stretchedl between them, and he watched as Lucia returned to fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair.  Her brow furrowed deeper and deeper and she trained her eyes so intently on the grey stone floor before them, that he began to wonder if she was attempting to count the bricks.  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it promptly as Lucia looked up at him again.

“I spoke with Elissa,” she stated quickly, as if she could not get the words past her lips fast enough.

He flinched.  ‘You...did?”

“Yes.  I was curious to meet her, to see what she is like.” She paused and eyed him knowingly.  “She is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

Nathaniel froze, unable to utter anything more than an “Um,” past the lump in his throat.  

“It is a fact, Nathaniel,” Lucia said, offering him a smirk before she rose to her feet and began to pace about, “Just as it is a fact that she is intelligent, strong, and compassionate.”

“I certainly think so,” he managed to say, observing her as she chewed on her bottom lip.

“I can see why you care for her,” she admitted, “I can see why Alistair does.”

“Lucia, is there any reason why you’re telling me all of this?”  The words sounded more irritated than he intended them to.

She snapped her head back to look at him, then slowly turned her gaze back to the fire before falling back into the chair where she’d previously been sitting.  She sat in silence for several moments before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and speaking. “She asked to join the Wardens.”

“ What, ” he asked, certain that there was no way he heard her properly.

“I know,” Lucia stated somberly, “I was surprised myself.  She is certainly capable, but it makes no sense to me why someone of her status would want to join us.

“Typical Liss, honestly,” he laughed briefly, “How did she take it when you told her no?”

“I…”

“Please tell me you told her no.” Nathaniel’s heart fell to his stomach at the hesitation.

“I cautioned her against it, but she seems very determined.”  Lucia’s voice trembled as she spoke, and Nathaniel almost felt bad for the anger that bubbled in his chest at her words.  “We only have seven wardens in Ferelden. It would be foolish to refuse a willing recruit.”

“I understand,  I do,” he said as calmly as he could, though his own shaky words betrayed him, “Recruit anyone else in this whole blighted country, but not her.  Please. I am asking you, as your friend, to tell her no.”

Lucia stiffened, straightening her posture before she spoke again, poised as ever. “And I am telling you, as your commanding officer, that I can’t do that.  I am sorry, but —”

“Of course you are, commander ,” he interrupted her with pointed words, “But you will have to forgive me if I don’t accept it.  It certainly does not change my objection to this decision of yours.”

Lucia just watched him intently, expression unchanging. “I do not need your approval.”

“Then why bother telling me,” he asked desperately.

“Because I respect you, and I thought you deserved to know,” she stated, voice more forceful, “I thought you would understand my reasoning.”

“Logic and reason don’t make a decision right,” Nathaniel snapped, “You always argue rationality, and then wear your apologies like they are a suit of armor against the consequences of those decisions.  Tell me, if any of those justifications were truly justifications, if your apologies helped anything, then would you still hate yourself so much?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.  He regretted them even more at the sight of utter betrayal on the young woman’s face.  She was doing her best. She was doing what she thought was right. She had relied on his support, and now he’d turned on her completely.  And why? Because he was angry? Scared? Pathetic.

“You have supported every one of my decisions until now,” she bit back, clearly struggling to keep the tears from her eyes.  

“I have, but that does not mean I will support everything you do unflinchingly,” he argued, “I understand why you would believe recruiting Liss is a good decision.  It is a good decision, objectively, but my feelings aren’t objective. If she fails the Joining, that blood will be on you and your hands alone.”

He clearly intended to burn ever bridge he’d built between he and Lucia to the ground in a matter of minutes.  He was too furious to care, too terrified to think of anyone but himself.

“Nathaniel, I—“

He waved his hand dismissively and stood up.  “You know what? Forget it. I know you won’t change your mind.”

Lucia’s face hardened, settling into an icy, neutral expression.  “Very well.”

There was a heavy, painful silence until Nathaniel spoke again.  “By your leave, Commander.”

She nodded slowly, and he turned abruptly and stomped out the door.  

In the hallway, Alistair approached Lucia’s quarters.  He hummed some Chantry hymn and twirled a rose between his fingers.  He looked up just in time to see Nathaniel storm out. Waving genially, he said, “Oh, hi Nathaniel.”

“Go soak your head,” Nathaniel grumbled as he brushed past Alistair without so much as making eye contact. It was not his best moment.

As he continued on down the hall, he heard the other man whine sarcastically, “But that would mess up my hair.”

Under normal circumstances, Nathaniel would have laughed, replied with a good natured barb, and apologized for being rude.  These were not normal circumstances, and so continued on without so much as a word. He had already said enough.

[mystacoceti]

Until, accustomed to disappointments, you can let yourself rule and be ruled by these strings or emanations that connect everything together, you haven’t fully exorcised the demon of doubt that sets you in motion like a rocking horse that cannot stop rocking. You may have scored a few points there where you first took those few steps (no more than three, in all likelihood) when you first realized the enormity of the choice between two kinds of mutually exclusive universal happiness. And you also realized the error of forever ruminating on and repeating those fatal steps, like a broken movie projector that keeps showing the same strip of film—you realized this when you were already far from that experience which had indeed begun to take on the unearthly weirdness of an old photograph. You cried out in the desert and you collapsed into yourself, indifferent to the progress of the seasons and the planets in their orbits, and you died for the first time. And now that you have been raised from the tomb like Lazarus by obscure miraculous forces you are surprised that the earth isn’t better than the one you left behind, that all things haven’t yet perfected themselves as you believe you have done by dying and being resuscitated to the uncertain glory of this day in early spring. You can’t get over the fact that conversations still sound the same, that clouds of unhappiness still persist in the unseen mesh that draws around everything, uniting it in a firm purpose as it causes each individual thing to bulge more brightly and more darkly at the same time, drawing out the nature of its real being. But that is the wonder of it: that you have returned not to the supernatural glow of heaven but to the ordinary daylight you knew so well before it passed from your view, and which continues to enrich you as it steeps you and your ageless chattels of mind, imagination, timid first love and quiet acceptance of experience in its revitalizing tide. And the miracle is not that you have returned—you always knew you would—but that things have remained the same. The day is not far advanced: it still half-seriously offers with one hand the promise that it pockets with the other, and it is still up to you to seize the occasion, jump into the fray, not be ruled by its cruel if only human whims. The person sitting opposite you who asked you a question is still waiting for the answer; he has not yet found your hesitation unusual, but it is up to you to grasp it with both hands, wrenching it from the web of connectives to rub off the grime that has obscured its brilliance so as to restore it to him, that pause which is the answer you have both been expecting. When it was new everybody could tell this, but years of inactivity and your own inattention have tarnished it beyond recognition. It needs a new voice to tell it, otherwise it will seem just another awkward pause in a conversation largely made up of similar ones, and will never be able to realize its potential as a catalyst, turning you both in on yourself and outward to that crystalline gaze that has been the backing of your days and nights for so long now. For the time being only you know it for what it is, but as you continue to hold on to it others will begin to realize its true nature, until finally it stands as the shortest distance between your aims and those of the beloved, the only human ground that can nurture your hopes and fears into the tree of life that is as big as the universe and entirely fills it up with its positive idea of growth and gaining control. So it is permissible to rest here awhile in this pause you alone discovered: a little repose can do no harm at this stage; meanwhile do not fear that when you next speak the whole scene will come to life again, as though triggered by invisible machines. There is not much for you to do except wait in the anticipation of your inevitable reply.

Inevitable, but so often postponed. Whole eras of history have sprung up in the gaps left by these pauses, dynasties, barbarian invasions and so on until the grass and shards stage, and still the answer is temporarily delayed. During these periods one thought enclosed everything like the blue sky of history: that it really was this one and no other. As long as this is the case everything else can take its course, time can flow into eternity leaving a huge deltalike deposit whose fan broadens and broadens and is my life, the time I am taking; we get up in the morning and blow on some half-dead coals, maybe for the last time; my hair is white and straggly and I hardly recognize my face anymore, yet none of this matters so long as your reply twists it all together, the transparent axle of this particular chapter in history. It seems that the blue of the sky is a little paler each morning, as happens toward the end of each epoch, yet one doesn’t want to move hastily, but to continue at this half-savage, half-pastoral existence, until one day the unmistakable dry but deep accent is heard:

“You waited too long. And now you are going to be rewarded by my attention. Make no mistake: it will probably seem to you as though nothing has changed; nothing will show in the outward details of your life and each night you will creep tired and enraged into bed. Know however that I am listening. From now on the invisible bounty of my concern will be there to keep you company, and as you mature it will unlock more of the same space for you so that eventually all your territory will have become rightfully yours again.”

from “The System”, John Ashbery

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Please, keep me. (Good Omens)

Part 4! This whole practice of writing every day is a lot of fun. I hope I feel the same as the month trickles on.

I will do the links for Part 1, 2 and 3 when I’m at my desktop. I still need a title too!! (found one)

Part 4

The incident of seeking out the little angel should have been a one off affair. 

It wasn’t. 

It became a frequent exercise in emotional torture for Crowley. Now, when he lurked upstairs looking for the angel, he would have to gamble on the appearance of the Keeper at all. Sometimes he would come out at the right time, following members of his duty. Sometimes he might only be a few minutes late. Sometimes he didn’t come at all. Crowley would wait and grind his teeth in anxiety hoping to catch sight of him before he was called away to his own work. The worry that he would miss the milk-coloured curls and furtive glances made him feel a kind of weariness that settled deep into his bones and drained all the enjoyment out of his day. When he did see the little angel his entire being seemed lifted up by it. There was a small part of him that knew it was foolish to hang so much longing onto another being like this, especially in this manner, but he was too far gone on the Keeper and his soft little ‘Oh!’ to be able to turn back now. Come what may, everything that was his was inextricably tied to what was the Keeper’s. 

And he didn’t even know his name. 

After several cycles of missing sight of the angel in the refectorary, a resolution slowly started to form in his mind. At first it seemed ridiculous, but over time as the angel’s appearances to the hall became more and more unreliable, the idea became less ridiculous. 

He could do what he had done that day in the library. Go into those winding hallways and watch the angel from afar. More and more days saw the angel linger behind in the library, clearly to indulge in reading every book he was charged to care for, and Crowley saw no alternative than to move his spying spot to among the quiet shelves. 

The trouble was there was really nowhere to hide. The corridors and hallways were filled to every inch with shelves and books, they curved and branched out in every branch. Including all the way up, high enough that Crowley couldn’t quite see the ceiling in the dim suspended lights of the library. Even if there were a space for him to skulk up in the darkness he was keenly aware that that was altogether far too ridiculous an option to consider. 

Ruling out the literal stalking, what if he was spotted? How would he begin to explain it? The little Keeper wasn’t the only angel in the library and if Crowley intended to follow through his mad plan the way he did, he would be risking running into them as well. 

No, an alternative was crucial. 

He was skulking in his usual spot, arms crossed on the ledge and a stormy expression on his face. The Keeper had not appeared for the fourth day in a row and Crowley was getting impatient. He turned away from the hall, silently grumbling at the entire hall of angels below for not being the correct angel. Instead he stared at the mural of animals, letting his eyes shift sightlessly over the complicated interwoven paintings of plants, tree, flowers and creatures. His thoughts ruminated sluggishly, never straying far from the dull ache in his chest. 

To see without being seen. To watch without causing alarm. To exist in the same space and yet be not as he was. 

He flickered his gaze between the array of beasts staring back out at him. Large and small they filled the shape, horns and tails and hooves. His eyes refocused as he settled down near the paws of the large golden beast with the mane, seeing a tiny little animal with cupped front paws, large eyes and a little tail. He strained to read the words etched in gold next to it. 

Mouse. 

An appealing little creation, it looked quick and intelligent. Crowley considered it, eyes narrowing as an idea slowly surfaced. It was possible for angels to manipulate their shape. This vessel wasn’t one made of skin and bone as the animals were. An angel’s true form was already condensed into this form, the wings committed to a different plane to accommodate the requirements of the Paradise She had made for them. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he had released the boundaries of his current skin to be in his natural form, it was a lot simpler to be in a form that was so tactile and grounded to his environment. In theory he should be able to alter his vessel again, to condense himself down further into a form that could hide in plain sight, sneak through the bookcases and watch his angel without discovery. 

He could become an animal. 

His eyes lingered on the mouse for some time, considering the brown fur, the twitching whiskers. It wasn’t out of the question but something didn’t ring true for him considering the small thing. He stood and began to walk the edges of the upper mezzanine slowly, considering each animal in turn. Some were immediately dismissed - too large or too bulky or unsuited for the narrow spaces. Others were too colourful or had unnecessary additions - what use would a pair of antlers be in a library? 

He considered a creature called a cat for some time. It was agile and slim, with clever eyes and short fur. It would be an excellent form to climb and jump in, its paws perfect for soundless sneaking. Perhaps a touch too big still. 

He eyed a winged animal called a fruitbat for some time before dismissing it. The ability to fly might be novel, but he doubted it would prove that useful when clambering across the tops of books. Plus, this animal seems to spend it’s life upside down and he wished to watch his angel the right way up. 

This pattern repeated for some time before he came to a stop in front of an animal he would not have believed could exist if it weren’t for Her endless imagination. An animal with no legs at all, a long twisting body and tail. Its head was streamlined to join with the body in one fluid shape. It appeared to have an unusual tongue, and eyes that reminded him of the cat from earlier. This animal was an unnecessary colour - a rather bright green, but that seemed to suit its surroundings. He was sure he could change that, maybe go for something that blended with the shadows a bit better. 

Yes, it would do nicely. With some imagination and a little Effort, Crowley would become a snake. 

Resolution is one thing, but action proved to be another. After Crowley had finished with his day of duties he retired to his room immediately. To change his form would mostly take time and concentration, and he knew he couldn’t be disturbed once he started. 

Shedding his robes and loosening his red hair, he sat in the centre of his bed and closed his eyes. He drew his form into his focus, taking time to identify every part of this current form and its placement. He would need to be able to return to it easily, if he was going to be able to switch between them at will. He took care to memorise the ridges and lines that created his face, the line of his jaw and slope of his shoulders. The speckles of paint that had stained his skin over many years against pale skin. The narrow passage of his hips and the calluses on his fingers. Feeling further outside of his skin he was able to feel the joint that held his wings in the incorporeal plane. The knot of bone and cartilage that passed from intangibility into his shoulder blades would be of particular concern when changing, as it was held in the odd position of both existing and not existing at the same time. 

Tracing the shape of what he wished to become into the air in front of him, small fragments of light trailed from his fingertips to sketch out the shape and length of the snake. At first he recreated the one he had seen in the mural, but it became obvious that this snake would be too small for him to condense his essence into without discomfort. He would have to make alterations to the form, whilst still retaining the subtlety of the shape. He still needed to be slim enough to creep. One option was to extend the length of the snake, while thickening the middle to give the body the correct level of strength and muscle required to move himself. 

It occurred to him that there was a lot more engineering to create a physical form than he had initially expected, and that he should be even more in awe of Her divine imagination than he already was. 

It seemed like many hours passed as Crowley twisted and contorted himself, trying to find the correct ratio to pour himself into the framework. 

But finally, somehow, he had done it. He opened his eyes, the golden eyes of a large snake, and began to feel through this new form. Not having arms or legs was certainly an uncomfortable sensation, as he had to lift and move his head with his torso and neck, but his form moved smoothly. He looked at himself, pleased with the recreation of soft glittering scales that moved and writhed as he did. He had thought to adopt the blue of his robes, but instead he had darkened the tone until he had found a pleasing shade of smoky black that would wind into shades seamlessly. Despite himself he had been unable to resist painting the underside of this form with the fiery red of his hair. Maybe it was pride, a form of vanity in something he knew set him apart from his peers. Maybe, should he be discovered, he wanted to worth looking at. 

If he couldn’t be himself, he would be the most beautiful snake. 

Crowley manipulated his muscular body across the room, experimenting with his new form. It was surprisingly pleasurable to slide through the sheets in such a way, surfaces feeling almost luxuriously soft against his scales. He twisted himself up into a coil, resting his head on his tail. He lifted himself up leading with his head, flicking his new forked tongue out in concentration. He found he could extend a very long way just by using the muscles along this body. 

A very clever design. He had picked well. 

He hissed to himself in pleasure. He would be the very best snake. He would creep into the library and he would be able to watch his charge in peace, observing from the shadows and following along sneakily as the Keeper went about his duties. Oh yes, he would be a very good sneak. 

“I am sssnake,” he announced to the room.