#maybe if i reread silver linings that will fix it i think that fic did permanently alter my brain chemistry

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 10)

Main concept: Two love struck idiots get sent back to a pretty UGH time period in their lives (that required me to reread all the books again) and have to hide the fact that they know everything.  

Find the rest of the fic here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore,  @redqueenetwork, @tranquil-dusk (I’m trying to add you but for some reason it wont @… the same problem happens with @thatoddgirl777 and I have no idea how to fix it)

(/Mare/)

I’ve been freed from Protocol for the time being. Cal pulls the same strings as last time, and I am put into Training. It makes my blood sing to know that I am going to be joining him there too. One more place where we can protect each other and plan without anyone knowing. We are a secret, united front that the Silver’s will never see coming.

         It’s been a week since my first meeting with Farley. I almost expected Maven not to show up to join us, but just as he did before, he appeared out of the shadows with the servant Holland. He was just as full of the righteous fire I remembered, smiling at me and promising things he will never give. Swearing fealty to Farley and her cause for the good of everyone. I wish I had the courage to ask him if he had meant those things.

         I’d gone back to my rooms cold and shaken, feeling in all senses of the word numb. Walsh had to practically guide me back to avoid me taking wrong turns and getting lost. In bed, I drown in the memories of the future that I am rapidly stumbling towards, trying to keep my head up as the tides suck me deeper. I toss and turn for hours, kicking the blankets off before pulling them back on when I wake from my hazy doze shivering uncontrollably because of invisible silent stone walls.

         I’d slipped through the secret door in my closet and felt my way through the dark tunnel to Cal’s rooms. It was silent in them, not even the sound of his breathing disturbed the space. Sure enough, his bed was empty and neatly made. He wasn’t even in Summerton. I’d sunk onto the bed before slipping under the blankets and burying myself in his smell.

         I’d woken to warm hands lifting me out of the blankets. Gripping his shirt, I’d whispered sleepily to him as he carried me back to my rooms. His voice was soft as he’d replied with a gentle, “you’re fine. I’ve got you.” I had to enter my room alone though, just to avoid the cameras seeing him.

         Now standing in the training room a week later, I still can’t shake the blanket of cold that envelopes me. Dread pools in my stomach the closer we get to the Ball and the closer I get to those names Maven will deliver. Everything is working perfectly, I have no reason to worry. And yet, a part of me quivers with nerves. Maven is as charming as ever, but something bubbles behind his eyes. Maybe it’s because I know what to look for now and I see it. But I had been just as untrustworthy the first time around. I would have seen it then too.

         Standing off to the side with my arms crossed I watch the young Silvers prepare for a session of tearing each other apart. Inhaling slowly, I take in the scent of the freshly washed matts and the summer breeze from the open windows. It’s been sweltering for the past few days, and sure enough a bead of sweat rolls down between my shoulder blades, tracing the track of my spine.

         On the other side of the training room, Cal catches my eye. He quirks a brow before pushing off the wall he’s leaning against. Strolling across the room, he tucks his hands into the pockets of his training jacket. When we’re standing side by side he rolls his shoulders a few times and says, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there a few nights ago.”

         “You were off being a crown prince.” I say and wave my hand for emphasis, “doing crown prince things.” My lips quirk up a little bit at the edges when his frown deepens. I haven’t teased him much since we got stuck here, I forgot how much fun it is.

         “I won’t lie; I did think someone put a dead body in my bed.”

         “Don’t be dramatic.” I tease him, hiding my smile behind my hand. On the other side of the room, Evangeline holds court around the targets. She hasn’t made any moves like she did in the breakfast room weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have something planned. If I recall, today is dueling day, and this was when she decided to take a piece out of my face.

         “Hard for him not be, he’s so very good at it.” Maven’s voice cuts the air between us like a knife. I spin to face him quickly, throwing up a smile to hide the fear that rushes through me. He tilts his head to the side and smiles as well. “What is he being dramatic about now?”

         Cal clears his throat, and hides his discomfort with a laugh. Setting his hand on Maven’s shoulder and squeezing he says lightly, “something to do with Shadow Legion. It’s been… difficult.”

         If Maven is fooled by our game, I cannot tell. A part of me sends a silent prayer that he didn’t hear anything. But a smarter part of me chastises myself for even falling prey to my fears and searching out Cal. Have I doomed us with my little slip up?

         “So I’ve heard, has Rhambos been giving you trouble again?” Maven grins at Cal in the way only brother’s sharing a private joke can.

         “You have no idea.” Cal’s relief is near invisible, and I have to force my own to be that way as Maven comes to stand next to me. His eyes dart to me and he gives me a small, tentative smile. I return it, wondering exactly what is going through his mind. What I wouldn’t give to be a Whisper just so I can know if we are in the clear.

         He turns his eyes forward as Arven calls Tirana forward to duel. His name comes next, and as he leaves my side, the little bubble of heat I didn’t notice him exuding leaves with him. His shoulders are tense as he steps into the makeshift arena to face the nymph. Next to me, Cal’s hands clench into fists.

         When he comes sulking out, dripping water all over the floor, his eyes are burning. They dart to me and soften for a heartbeat before hardening once more. Mercifully, Cal keeps his mouth shut and turns to watch the next match when Maven steps in between us. The air crackles with heat, and a few of the other Silvers take a step back, making it appear as if they are simply interested in something else.

         “Nothing to say?” Maven murmurs when Cal continues to sit in silence. My eyes dart to them, and my hand slowly closes in a fist at my side.

         “There’s nothing to say.”

         “You always have something to say, forgive me if it’s a surprise when you don’t.” Maven turns those eyes on Cal, and I imagine his stare could turn Cal into a puddle of human parts if he weren’t a burner as well. He’s instigating, something I never saw him do. Or maybe it’s happened before and I never got the chance to see it. Cal makes no move to show me panic, so maybe Maven being this bitter has occurred sometime in the past before I met them. Maybe nothing is wrong and he’s picking a fight because he’s upset about the embarrassment of his loss.

Straightening his shoulders, Cal turns a neutral look onto Maven, sweeping him over with his eyes. “You could have beat her if you had given her a bit more space. You were stronger than her the whole fight.” Cal assures, his eyes dancing to me for a moment. We both know that isn’t what he said last time. But this didn’t occur last time, and without a script Cal struggles.

Maven’s entire body tenses, even as his expression cools. It’s such an odd contradiction that I’m not quite sure what will happen next. Reaching out, I close my hand around his wrist and squeeze. He’s cold as ice, and I shiver involuntarily as my skin makes contact with his. I don’t know why I expected heat.

His flips around to look at my hand, his lips pursed in a tight line. I swallow my grimace and offer him a gentle, knowing smile.

“There will be more fights. More important fights.” I raise my brow, hoping he takes my hint. The anticipation of his reaction practically drives me to dig my nails into his skin. I’m surprised he doesn’t flip around and demand to challenge Cal right here, right now. It would be a short fight, but it would be no less damning.

His shoulders soften though, and his stance shifts to one of embarrassment. “Of course.” He murmurs, his other hand coming to rest on mine. “There always are.”

 Hiding my relief behind a smile, I try to pull my hand away. I can’t believe I thought he would actually go to blows with Cal. He’s smarter than that, and better at playing the long game than I give him credit for in the moment.  

Before I can pull my hand away completely, he grips it tighter and stares me down, daring me to pull away. He puts up the mask then, the one that I loved dearly and searched for during my months with him in Archeon.

 “Even if some battles are already lost.” He whispers as he leans close to me so his words are only for me.

He’s a desperate boy now. I can hear the ache in his voice. What does he know? What does his mother know? Nothing, I’m certain they know nothing. Elara didn’t get anything from me, and she hasn’t gotten anything from Cal. We’ve been careful enough, we’re never together in a way that anyone could question. We haven’t even gone into that moonlit room yet. I haven’t put a knife in Maven’s back yet. Maybe he was more jealous of my escapade to the Stilts than I initially noticed. That’s the only thing he has to work with, and maybe the fact that Cal and I were obviously teasing each other before training just now. He’d never been so outwardly jealous of Cal though. His jealousy was always a quietly simmering pot that never overflowed. He was so much more dangerous because of that.

Pulling away from me when I stay silent, he gives me a rueful smile and turns to face the arena where Elane and Sonya are tearing each other to pieces. I can’t focus though; my mind turns into a tail spin of panic. Have we slipped up? Did I damn us a few nights ago? Are we even off track? What if we are? What has changed?

I am so lost in my own thoughts I almost miss Evangeline demanding our fight. Lifting my eyes to her, I take in her gloating smile. She senses my panic, but has no inclination of the source.

Maven jumps to my defense like a cat would to a mouse. Evangeline doesn’t back down though. I should be grateful for this, at least something is back on track. It’s been a while since I’ve been glad for Evangeline Samos, and even though she is not my friend now, she is the closest thing I’ve seen since training started.

 (/////)

 Sitting in the darkness of my room that night, I watch the moonlight as it passes over the floor. Are the Sentinels watching me on their screens, wondering if I’ve lost my mind? I doubt it. Unless Elara had told them to keep a closer eye on me. I wouldn’t be surprised, when she’d corned me and Maven in the hallway I had felt her creeping in my mind, searching in the mirrored halls I’d barely had enough time to drag up to protect my memories.

Sighing, I let my head fall into my hands as I breathe. Focusing on the hum of the cameras, I follow the source of the electricity along the wires. The purr of the current fills my senses and drowns me. For a moment, I let myself just exist in the peaceful darkness behind my eyelids. Things will only get harder from here. I regret not tuning for Montfort more than anything now. 

A gentle knock on the door drags me out of my meditation. Raising my eyes to the door, I wrap my robe tighter around me as I stand. My steps are near silent as I creep across the room and crack open the door.

Leaning against the frame of the doorway, Cal looks more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. With a shadow creeping along his jaw, he looks more like he did in Montfort. He was on the verge of doom and greatness here, and there too. He wears the years he’s already lived tonight in the bags under his eyes and the weariness of his shoulders. 

When he spots the sliver of my face behind the door, he gives me a tentative smile. “Up for a dance?” He asks quietly as I open the door a little wider. 

Nodding, I let him pull me out of my room and toward a moonlit room where I can at least pretend for a little while that I’m safe even if I’m the furthest from safe that I’ve ever been.

 (////)  

 In the hours leading up to the ball, while I am being painted and primed, the names Maven gave as targets ring through my head. When he had visited me late in the dark to tell me them, I had expected him to give me different names. I’d whisper to Cal that I thought I had messed up, and given us away. He’d tried to assure me that everything would alright. And when we kiss this time, there was a desperation to it. Like Maven, he is terrified to lose me, and he poured that fear into the kiss he gave me. 

Reynold Iral, Ptolemus Samos, Ellyn Macanthos. Belicos Leorlan. Those names chase me and haunt my waking hours. The prospect of them being wrong, and Maven adding more names, or different ones, haunts me even more. 

Belicos with his two young children who will die tonight too, Ptolemus Samos who will live to someday kill my brother but father a beautiful daughter with Wren, Colonel Macanthos with her sly eye that can see right through Elara’s schemes, and Reynold, a man I’m pretty sure is lost somewhere anyway dance behind my eyelids and in the corner of my eyes. I don’t think I will ever be rid of my ghosts. 

I couldn’t breathe when I stood before Mareena and saw her in the mirror. She was lovely and wicked in the light of my room, and I’m sure she’ll look the same way at the ball tonight. The dress is the same riotous mess of gemstones and purple fabric that I hate even more this time around, especially when I have to stand next to Maven and observe him in his beautiful charcoal suit. He is beautiful in it, as beautiful as I remember. It makes my stomach twist every time I look at him.

The pleasantries leave me just as breathless, and I can feel Evangeline’s eyes on me as she glares down the line at the people who are to come. It’s almost a relief when Maven pulls me out onto the balcony, just so that I can inhale fresh air. As we go, I feel the brush of Cal’s hand as he reaches back to catch my skirt. My eyes dart to him in warning, but he’s already hiding the movement behind setting his hand on Evangeline’s back and smiling at Belicos as he steps forward to greet them.

Even as Maven pulls me onto the balcony, my heart is pounding. Seeing Belicos a second time does nothing to ease the ache in my heart. His children, I remember their bodies laid out next to his like they were nothing. Was Maven’s emotion in the moment a scam? Had he felt anything seeing their little bodies. I don’t know what’s real and the closer we get to the moment, the more my fear increases. .

         “You’re giving them a father.” I whisper, the words like poison on my tongue. He’d give anything to topple the Guard, and he did give everything. Even if I hadn’t been enough to completely crush us. At the same time though, he wasn’t the one to truly give those names. Elara told him who to pick and he acted like a good little mouth piece.  He could have chosen not to give that name though. In the moment he could have chosen to spare a father and his children. He’d made that choice. I know he’s braver than he claims, especially where Elara is concerned. Farley was right to call him a coward.

         He lets go of me but doesn’t step away when I speak. He stays close instead, his hands just ghosting over my skin. He looks like a marble statue in the moonlight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Achingly beautiful, a boy on the cusp of manhood and his own demise, an angel teetering over the edge of the abyss. 

He backs me into the wall, his eyes like chips of ice in the pale plane of his face. Slowly he places his hands on either side of my head, trapping me so that I have to listen to him.

         “Reynald is a father, too. The Colonel has children of her own. Ptolemus is now engaged to the Haven girl. They all have people; they all have someone who will mourn them.” The words are forced and cold. A part of him believes those words but the larger part of him, the one Elara has groomed to be king someday knows it must be done. “We can’t pick and choose how to help the cause, Mare. We must do what we can, whatever the cost.”

         My skin feels like it’s alive. I might electrocute him right here, right now, until he backs away from me. I have half a mind to press my hand to his chest and shove him over the balcony. It would take one push, and I know all the weak points to knock someone of balance now. It would be so easy. I could claim it was the Scarlet Guard, that they appeared on the balcony and pushed him.

         His breath is warm on my face as he whispers, “I want this to be done with the least blood shed possible.”

         His hand trembles as he brings it up to brush his fingertips along my cheek, a ghost of a touch, like he can’t bear to let his skin connect with mine. “Tonight will change everything.”

         My heart pounds harder against my ribs as he pulls back enough to give me space. His eyes dance away from me and back to the line of dwindling nobles. The pleasantries are over, it’s time. Even if I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready though.

         The shadows break again and I recognize Cal’s familiar outline as he steps onto the balcony. “You two all right out here?” His expression is hesitant, probably worried that he’s interrupted a moment that I am supposed to be getting information. His eyes linger on me, his expression softening. These next moments will be the hardest. “You ready for this, Mare?”

         Maven jumps on my silence. “She’s ready.”

         Taking my arm in his, he pulls me along. He was never this aggressive with me. At least, not that I remember. Maybe I had been so blinded by my emotions of the night that I hadn’t realized how he was acting. He’s agitated though, and monsters are dangerous like that. 

         Still, Cal’s fingers brush against my wrist, his touch somehow colder than Maven’s. I wish he actually took my hand and held it. When I look over my shoulder at him, his expression is stormy. He’d never been so outwardly nervous about Maven. At least he’s not afraid. We know what comes tonight. I told him what to expect, and he knows what he has to do. I wonder if he will be able to put Farley through the pain of the Gilican shiver’s torture now. I have to rely on him to do just that though.

        Evangeline appears at his side, her jewel encrusted fingers enclosing his arm. She squeezes tightly when she sees my eyes lingering on him. 

     Oh Evangeline. I wish I could help her now. She has her own battle to fight though. 

         Maven’s lips almost brush my ear as he whispers to me, “This is the hard part.”

         Even with all the eyes on me, I don’t blush. He pulls me into the frame but his skin is warmer than I remember. And as we start the dance, his eyes never leave my face. What is he looking for there?

         As we move in the box formation, he raises a brow and his lips curl into a smile. “You’ve been practicing.”

         “A bit, didn’t want to step on your toes.” I reply with my own smile. I put as much true joy as I can behind it. 

           His eyes flash for a moment and he leans a little closer to whisper, “You’re just full of surprises.” He chuckles, and the grin he gives me as he pulls back makes my stomach flutter. There is the boy that had captured my trust and my heart. I turn away at the sight of it, my stomach dropping.

         I spot Cal spin Evangeline, who looks more like a glittering ball of spikes than a human. I’m surprised she doesn’t slice Cal’s hands open when he rests them on the back of the dress. I miss her more casual regalia that she wears in Montfort. I never saw her casual outfits that she wore here, but I imagine she carried that style into Ascendant.

Sensing my gaze, Cal’s eyes meet mine. His fingers close around Evangeline’s waist, and a million memories of him doing the same thing with me come back. I can almost feel his hand sliding around my waist in the tiny living room of our apartment as he hums the song playing on the radio. I can remember laying my head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his humming reverberating in his chest. He can’t carry a tune to save his life, but it is still wonderful.

We spin through two songs until I feel dizzy with anticipation. Just when I think Maven will pull me to the side though, he leans close to me. I almost pull away, but instead force myself to stay close and turn my head slightly to give him a shy smile. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them though.

         “I told you that everything changes tonight.” He breathes against my ear. I nod, confused where this is going. “And I do have to admit that I’ve… kept something from you.”

What? What is he getting at? I pull away, panic flaring through me as I search that face for the truth. He’s too good at hiding it though. I grip his hand tightly, prepared to push as much electricity through his body as I can muster.

His hand burns in my grip instead. My lips curl in pain, but he ignores it and spins me so that my back is to the crowd around us. Forcing me to step into the next dance, he tilts his head forward again to whisper. “I did give Farley four names. But I lied to you about one of them.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice is cold, dangerous too. He senses it, pulling back a fraction. We stop dancing, and his hands drop to his sides. My heart beats so erratically, I worry it might beat right out of my chest.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips falling. “Ptolemus is a good target. Removing him would send the officers into chaos. But there was… a better target, one that would cause more chaos.”

“Who did you give?”

Who did your mother give? I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake it out of him. His lips curl up slowly, a remorseful smile if I ever saw one from him. My blood goes cold at the sight of it.

“Farley agreed with me that you were getting too close, that your attention was becoming divided. She also agreed that if there was ever a time to cut the head off the snake it was now.” He takes my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’ll step up in his place. My father will never recover from the loss, so Farley can do what she pleases. It is a win for all of us.”

Realization burns through my stomach, followed immediately by frozen panic. “What have you done?” I wheeze as I flip around, searching the crowd, desperately trying to find Cal’s silhouette. In the mass of bodies, I can’t find him and my fingers twitch at my sides as I glance up in the rafters. The Sentinels pace, searching the crowd but they are looking in the wrong places. Above them, shadows move too. The Guard is already in position, ready to carry our Farley’s plot. 

“I know that you two have become…friends.” Maven begins, taking my hand and pulling me back around so that I face him. I try to turn my head and search the crowd still, but he grabs my chin and drags my eyes back to his face. “That’s why I asked Farley to take the shot. She’ll give him a quick end. One bullet and a dynasty will end.”

One bullet that won’t miss. One bullet that will tear my future away from me. One bullet that will break me, because Farley never, ever misses.

My blood boils and sparks dance on my fingertips as I glare at him. Cold calm washes over me as the rush of adrenaline leaves. I am in battle mode now; survival is all I can think about when I stare down the man before me.

“Farley removed you from the mission. That’s why I didn’t tell you I gave her his name. She thought you might compromise us.”

We were wrong. I gave something away. Elara never would have dared to target Cal. She needs him to get rid of his father, she needs a scapegoat. But if she looked in my head or his and saw the future, she would have seen that he is more trouble than he’s worth. She would have found out that cutting him from the equation might someday save her and Maven.

If I turn and run after him, I will confirm whatever they believe about us, whatever they have found. But if I sit here, I will lose everything. I can’t go after him; I can’t save him or else I risk Farley and compromising this whole mission.

I am a selfish creature though. I always have been, and I always will be.

Ripping my hand from Maven’s grip I flip around to push my way through the crowd. I have time, there’s still time. I am racing against a clock I can’t see though. It’s like push through mud as I shove my way through the crowd. People gasp and glare at me, but I have eyes only for one person and I can’t find him.

My eyes start to water, and my breathing comes in ragged gasps.

Farley doesn’t miss. And she will make sure she doesn’t miss this time.

Memories of him lying on the sand of Harbor Bay, grey and lifeless threaten to overtake me. I shove them down. He won’t be made into a symbol tonight. I still have time.

There.

He stands with his back to me, speaking quietly with some military personnel or another. I shove through the last of the crowd, my hand extended for him. Elara’s eyes are on me, I can feel them, but I don’t care. I don’t care about keeping things on track. Jon can damn himself to the hells. I won’t lose him.

“Cal!” I scream his name, making him turn. His brows furrow, his expression confused by my panic and fear. I’m five steps away. Then four, hand outstretched as he takes a tiny movement forward as if he might meet me halfway. He never gets the chance.

The lights drop and four guns fire at the same time.

I scream so loud that my own ears ring. The lights around us flare to life on their own by the sheer force of my ability. My vision tunnels, even as someone slams into me from the side, screaming in panic as the lights directly above me explode in a shower of sparks. 

I shove them away from me and sprint to his downed form. The man he’d been speaking to is gone, probably lost in the panic. People are screaming, shouting and pointing to the roof.

I slide the last foot between us on my knees and come to his side. Blood, there’s so much blood. I choke on a sob as I try to find the source of it. His eyes are open though, and his mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

Relief like nothing I’ve ever felt rushes through me, and I choke on his name as I feverishly try to find the source of the blood. It’s staining his uniform and pooling around his shoulder. His hands press to his chest, and I immediately press my hands on top of his. Sticky, burning blood pours through my fingers though.

“Mare.” His voice is ragged as he gasps my name, and I tear my eyes from the wound long enough to meet his eye. His going grey, the black undertones starting to appear under his eyes.

“No, stop trying to talk. You have to keep breathing.” I cry as I press the heels of my palms harder into the wound. More blood pours out and I feel like I’m fighting an uphill battle when I reach down and rip some of my dress off to press it to the wound. “Healer! Someone get a healer!” I scream to the panicked crowd. They’re like spooked animals though. No one notices their crown prince on his back bleeding out.

His hand closes weakly around my wrist and squeezes, trying to get my attention. His eyes are wide, but his expression is anything but fearful. “Don’t—” he begins, but ends up coughing on blood instead.

“No, no, no.” I sob as I push harder and glare at him. “No last words Calore. Not tonight. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to sit and drink coffee and talk with Julian again, and see Clara and my family again. And—and we’re going to see our baby, we’re going to hold him and watch him grow and become a better person than either of us. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine!”

His grip weakens on my wrist even as he smiles. My throat closes and I drop my chin to my chest. It’s a pretty picture I paint, but it fades with every slow beat of his heart. “Help!” I scream uselessly one more time, hoping someone will hear, that someone will come to my aid.

The crowd parts for a moment, and Sara who whipped around at the sound of my scream finds me. She barrels her way to us, and drops to her knees on Cal’s other side.

“Help him, save him.” I sob at her.

Her lips twist at the sight of all the blood, but she immediately pushes my hands away from the wound and replaces my hands with hers. Cal’s head falls back and his eyes close the minute she does. I leap for him, grabbing his face and trying to get him to open his eyes again. His neck falls slack in my grip through and I end up almost shaking him.

“Open your eyes, open your fucking eyes.” I scream at him, tears pouring like rivers down my cheeks. Hands grab me and try to pull me away, but I thrash against them and scream. When I’m flipped around, I meet Julian’s tortured expression.

He pulls me to him, keeping me out of Sara’s way as she works. His eyes never leave his nephew’s face. I wonder if he is seeing his sister in his grey features. Cal looks like a corpse, and my entire body feels like a live wire set to explode at any second.

“Don’t let him die. Please, don’t let him die.” I beg Sara, reaching a hand out to grab Cal’s hand. It’s cold in my grip and I almost vomit when my stomach clenches.

Her eyes dance up to me, and I see the resolve there. Is he lost? I don’t know if I will be able to bear that burden, if I will be able to survive this crushing blow.

She pulls her blood stained hands away and I dive out of Julian’s arms to grab at Cal. For a moment, I think he’s truly gone and a pained sob leaves my chest, sounding more like a scream than a moment of weakness. Underneath my hands though, his chest hitches with a breath, and then begins to rise and fall slowly.

The ballroom is practically empty around us. The royals have fled, the Sentinels have gone after Farley and the others. All that is left is us and the corpses. But there is one less among them.

“Cal,” I whisper to him as I brush his hair off his forehead. His eyes open for a moment only to close in a grimace.

“I wasn’t one of the targets.” He breathes, and I slowly let my forehead fall to rest on his chest. He wasn’t, but he survived. Turning to answer my call had saved his life. He’d changed his positioning, too fast for Farlet to correct her shot before the lights went out. She’d shot blindly, and almost succeeded in killing him.

“This sounds like a conversation for more… private chambers.” Julian’s voice is a dangerous rumble. I glance at him over my shoulder, belatedly realizing that he saw me sob over a prince that is not mine. He heard Cal mention targets, and judging by the fury behind his eyes, he is rapidly putting two and two together.

“Julian,” I reach for him, but he pushes to stand and then steps up to Cal’s other side.

“Sara will finish her work in my rooms. You two will come with us.” He bends down to grab one of Cal’s arms and help him sit up. I almost try to stop him, but he glares down at me. “Help me get him up and moving. We will have to move quickly.”

I crawl over Cal and grab his other arm before helping him to his feet. He stumbles, barely able to take his own weight. I grunt underneath him, and press into his side. Already I can feel the heat returning to his skin, and it sends such a thrum of relief through me that I have to swallow more tears.

 (////)

 Julian’s rooms are dark and after he helps me deposit Cal on one of the couches, he works quickly to shut all the curtains and lock the doors. I search for the cameras, but there are none for me to turn off.

He lights a few candles and brings them to the side table to light Sara’s work space. She shoes me away and takes my place at Cal’s side before tearing his ceremonial suit off. While she healed the artery that was severed, there is still a bullet in his chest. I can just catch one of the edges reflecting in the dim light.

Sara holds out an expectant hand and not even a heartbeat later, Julian sets a small cloth wrapped set of tools in her hands. She sets them in her lap and goes to work as I edge around the back of the couch and take one of Cal’s hands in my own. His pulse is getting stronger with every passing second, and his grip increases as Sara digs the first tool in to get the bullet out.

“Both of you, talk.” Julian’s fury is like nothing I’ve seen before. Even when I came to him for help in freeing Farley and Kilorn, he had still been soft, quiet. This fury is the fury of a man that has seen horrible dark places and is terrified to be forced back into them. 

I glance at Cal who grimaces and grinds his teeth together when Sara starts to tug on the bullet. He won’t be able to make this decision right now.

“You wouldn’t believe us.” I say quietly before looking up at Julian and begging him to understand my hesitation. 

“Try me.” He grinds out past his clenched jaw.

My stomach turns and Cal squeezes my hand. I glance down at him, and he nods slowly. We have been compromised. It’s time.

“You have to… listen the whole time. Don’t waste time with questions.” I urge, and in the low light, Julian’s nod creates dark shadows across his features. He looks older than I’ve ever seen him. Bowing my head, I inhale slowly and then launching into the story, starting with the most dangerous truth.

It takes more time than I want for Sara to finish with Cal, and for me to finish the story. As he gets stronger, Cal interjects, adding bits and pieces that I forget. Julian keeps true to his word and stays quiet, but his expression pulls into a deeper and deeper frown as we go. 

“How could you not trust me with this. If you know what I am to be to you, why would you not seek out my help immediately?” He pushes to his feet and begins pacing the space before us. Sara watches him, her eyes solemn.

“We—I didn’t want to put you in danger.” Cal whispers, pushing to a sitting position. I try to push him back down, but he fights me off.

“I end up in danger anyway.” Julian turns his gaze on Cal, but it’s softened considerably. I relax as he steps forward to look both of us over. “You’re certain Elara knows the truth?”

“Cal wasn’t a target. But Maven made him one tonight and pushed me off the mission. He knew about me and Cal and if he knows about that, then he knows about everything else.” I whisper, and take the rag Sara had brought a few minutes ago. Wiping some of the blood of Cal’s chest, I shake my head. “I gave us away completely tonight by saving you.”

Cal closes a hand over mine and squeezes softly.

“You must have given yourselves away some time before that.” Julian stops his pacing to set his fists on his hips. Glaring at the carpet like it is the sole reason for his worry, he says, “and now you are once again at the mercy of Elara’s mechanisms.”

“Not exactly.” Cal argues, sitting up completely and starting to shrug his uniform jacket on. Julian raises a brow at his words, but waits until Cal gives up with the buttons to let him speak. 

“We know what her ultimate end game is, and there is more than one way to get to the point we want.” Cal glances at me warily. “You and Maven are supposed to meet with Farley when we get to Archeon. You are going to have to warn her, and tell her the truth. All of it.”

I jump to my feet, shock coursing through me. “Have you lost your mind? Julian would understand, but Farley?”

“Farley will understand if you tell her the truth and give her proof.” Cal urges.

Sara and Julian watch our responses bounce back and forth like spectators at some sports match. It’s my turn to pace though, so I start wearing a trench into the floor, grabbing fistfuls of my gown as I do so. “Even if I did manage to get her to believe me, what are we going to do?”

“Elara doesn’t know that I know right?” He reasons with a tilt of his head. I pause my pacing to glance at him. He finishes buttoning up his jacket and nods at whatever plan is forming in his head. “She may think you are the only person that knows the future. That only you are here.”

“What are you talking about? If she’s seen my memories—”

“Then she’s only seen the ones formed before.” Julian jumps on the plan. His eyes dart between the two of us. “You would know if she was in your head Cal. And you are certain she has not looked. She has only seen your memories Mare. As far as she is concerned you are the only person with knowledge of the future.”

“Then why get rid of Cal tonight?” I wave a hand at him for emphasis. My fingers are still shaking, and my body still feels numb from the near death scare.

“You said so yourself. He plays a role in toppling her and Maven. Remove the tumor before it becomes cancer.” Julian offers with a shrug. Setting his hand on my shoulder, he gives me a tired smile. “You may still have a card up your sleeve. Go to… Farley, and get her to believe your story. Make a new plan, one that will put you back on track.”

How am I going to do that? How will I keep Maven in the dark? I’m smart, but he’s always been so much smarter than me, and with the knowledge Elara now has, the game has just become that much harder.

Cal rises on shaky legs, his expression cold. “Speaking of Farley, she might be done in the cells now.”

My blood goes cold and I blink stupidly. “But you didn’t catch her this time. She got away.”

“I didn’t catch her the first time. The Sentinels had already apprehended her by the time I caught up to them.” He nods to Sara and with a slow dip of his head whispers, “thank you, for saving my life.”

She smiles at him, a tiny weak expression but it lights up her face. She takes Julian’s hand and rises from her chair.

It feels good to have the two of them on our side now, playing the game with us. Maybe with them, we can actually win this time around.

[nostalgicatsea]

Five favorite works from the past year

Tagged by @firebrands. Thank you and sorry for the belated reply! I haven’t been on this account as much because I’ve been busy irl/on non-fandom/MTH accounts, trying to get involved with what’s going on and pretty much been passing out on my bed after scrolling through my dash and Twitter feed briefly. I kept forgetting to reply to this, but I didn’t want you think I was ignoring you!

ANYWAY, here’s the challenge:

The rules of this circulating challenge are as follows: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

1. Blood in the Water (998 words, fanmix with liner notes for each song)

Fanmix for "Plunge" by kiyaar, one of the most beautiful and tragic fics in the Steve/Tony fandom. He wonders what’s worse, the fact that Steve actually thought he was better than this or the fact that Steve made him believe it for a bit, there, too. The song order follows the plot, and the playlist covers Steve and Tony’s POV throughout the story, individually and then both of their POV at the same time before ending with Steve's.

My first-ever fanmix for one of my favorite fics! This is one of the very few stories that have made cry, which only happens rarely. I really like the cover art I made for this. You can see it here without going on AO3. I spent so much time looking for the perfect photos and font, and I like the opacity change of the title on the front cover. I wanted to follow the story chronologically, with each song representing a specific part. 

2. Pyriscence (6.9k, @marveltrumpshate fill for @sabrecmc)

In the wake of the Decimation, there's nothing but total destruction, death and chaos that spread like wildfire, uncontained. All Natasha can do is hold fast to her hope in the aftermath—hope that there’s a way out. Hope that Tony will come back to them. To Steve.

This is my favorite fic that I wrote last year and one of my favorites overall. I like that it’s a departure from my other fics as it’s an outsider’s POV (Natasha’s), and I think I did a good job capturing the numbing grief that came in the aftermath of the Decimation as well as Steve and Tony’s relationship. I also liked getting into Natasha’s head, figuring out what her feelings are about Steve and Tony individually and together, her relationships with them, and the way she sees and feels around Rhodey and Pepper. There’s also one parallel that no one has picked up on, and it’s like a nice little secret for myself. If only I could write like this again. :))))

3. Mending Each Other and Calling It Love (2.5k, Fandom Stocking present for @ashes0909)

His hands were busted, the skin raw and torn, when Steve pulled off his gloves. Hitting the heavy bag wasn't his go-to method for chasing calmness or sleep, but Tony had been hellbent on beating his nightmares back, even if he scraped himself bloody while he did it.

I love the quiet intimacy that comes late at night. Both Steve and Tony have let down their walls here. This was a bit self-indulgent because I love it when one character bandages up another character, and I love the image of scraped knuckles. I used to find the idea of writing MCU Tony so daunting, but I think I got him right here. Two of the metaphors I love the most are also in this fic: 1. Steve and Tony’s relationship like an uneven structure, but Tony viewing himself as an engineer who can stabilize it and 2. Steve unleashing his power in the gym, like a myth come to life, coming from my own thoughts of what it would be like to see such a demonstration of strength from a very mortal POV. 

4. Leaving You Forward (3.3k, @lightsonparkave fill) 

It would be easy, staying here like this with Tony. But Steve knew he couldn't—because he had never taken the easy way out and because he loved Tony.

Full disclosure, I reread this recently and got emotional, which rarely happens with my own works because I’ve read them at least 700 times by the time I post due to my editing style. Anyway, I’m proud of this fic even if there are lines that I want to fix because this fic was long abandoned. I remember having to go on so many walks around the neighborhood during the fall when I tried to first write this back in 2014. It makes me reminisce about that time of my life every time I think about it. I was FINALLY able to write it after EG. It came at the right time and makes me think of how much I’ve grown since then. I love how this fic perfectly captures the idea of letting go and moving on despite all the suffering you endured and how Steve and Tony always, always, always push each other to grow, to not be stagnant. I know this made people cry, but I really think this one is so full of hope! 

5. In My Hands and Gone Again (136 words, @lightsonparkave fill)

Memories were like fish, Tony had explained, or the tease of one. A flash of silver, and his hands would plunge down. Sometimes he would catch one; other times, it would dart out of reach. He wouldn’t be sure whether it had been real or just a trick of the light, after.

Lol the summary is almost half as long as the fic itself. I’ve been having trouble writing lately, but I missed it and this was my way of dipping my feet in the pool. The fic came to me almost instantly except I kept trying to make it longer and whined at erde, Jen, magic, and Alanna about it before realizing, with their help, that it was better as it was with maybe a few lines added here and there. I wanted something short and packed a punch, and this was it. It was fun returning to my roots; I used to be incapable of writing more than 1-2k, but then I couldn’t go back to writing fics as short as that. Anyway, this was the first time in a long while that I felt some sort of emotion while writing, and I hope that that can happen as I work on the fics I want and need to work on in the coming months.

Tagging @mizzy2k, @ishipallthings, @pineapplebread, @venusiaries, and anyone else who wants to do this! 

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 2/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary:  Belle's wedding and new husband are both nothing like she expects.

Notes: WOW. The response to that first chapter was absolutely overwhelming. You are all amazing and your comments fuel me so much. Don't expect too many updates on this before I finish some other things like Killing Time, but my plan is to wrap other projects up and poke at this fic as I have time. I am thinking of doing the 31 Days in December again, but focusing solely on this fic. IDK, we'll see. For the Writer's Month prompt #27: celebration.

[AO3] 

Previous: [1]

Belle awoke early, just as the first light was spilling in between the curtains.

She stretched and sat up, surprised that she had slept so soundly the night before what she thought would be the worst day of her life. Lord Gold’s letter had given her hope, and now she was she was determined to go into the ceremony with a more positive outlook. It might all be for naught in the end, but for now, she didn’t want to think about anything except getting off on the right foot with her new husband.

Husband.

The world still felt strange even in her head. Now more than ever she wished her mother was alive. A girl needed her mother in these moments, but instead she would have Astrid and her dear friend Ariel. Perhaps Gold would allow her to bring Astrid along. Such things were not unheard of, and he seemed to want her to be happy, if the tone of his words could be assumed.

Sighing, she climbed out of bed to use the chamber pot and wash her face before Astrid knocked on her door with breakfast.

“Did you sleep well, my Lady?” Astrid asked, closing the door with her hip as she precariously balanced a silver tray with the other.

Belle nodded. “I did, actually, thank you.”

Astrid smiled and set the tray down on the table. There was bread and jams, oats with honey, and a small bowl of fruit. It was far more than Belle thought she’d be able to eat, but at least there was a variety for her to pick at. Her eyes drifted to the book sitting on her trunk, the one she’d tucked Gold’s letter in, and she licked some jam from her lips. She was beginning to feel nervous, and wondered if perhaps rereading it would settle her stomach.

After Astrid left to fetch two more maids to assist with getting her into her wedding gown, Belle hurried over to the book and snatched it up. She pressed it to her chest and went to sit in a chair by the window, letting the morning sun warm her face. Once again, his words felt reassuring and honest, and she was glad that nothing had changed overnight in that regard.

Maybe he was fond of letter writing and she could expect more. Soon, she’d know the sound of his voice to go with it, and she hoped that it would be pleasant to imagine in her mind.

A few hours later, the sinking feeling in Belle’s stomach was back.

She stared down the stone path and exhaled slowly. There hadn’t been time to schedule much for the ceremony itself, but most of the garden was still in bloom and the weather was favorable enough to be outside. The hedges at the front shielded her from view, but allowed her a glimpse of Lord Gold as he stood at the end of the path, just on the edge of the pavilion.

She couldn’t tell much from here, but he was shorter than both the priest and her father. Sir Gaston had been a full head taller than her father, and when he stood next to her she felt like a child. It didn’t seem that it would be as much of a disparity with Gold, and she was grateful even for that small favor.

“Ready?”

Belle turned to see Ariel, and shook her head. “No, but I don’t have much say in the matter do I?”

Ariel gave her a sympathetic look and squeezed her shoulder. “Please don’t be this way, Belle. It - it could be a good match.”

Belle raised her eyebrows at her friend, but said nothing. Gold’s letter might have eased her mind, but her heart was still breaking for the fact that she would never find the kind of love she’d always longed for. Ariel wouldn’t understand that; she and Eric had chosen each other. They were both the youngest children in two families adjacent to the royal house. They had all the privilege and freedom they desired, and had never shouldered the burden of expectation, knowing that the ruin of your family and all those who depended on your lands was laid at your feet.

Belle blew out a breath and squared her shoulders before she stepped into the archway between the hedges. There was some quiet murmuring among the few that were assembled, and then she stepped forward. Gold’s head pivoted towards her, and she held her breath as Ariel assumed her duties as maid of the bride and scattered a handful of rose petals in front of her. The attendees rose to their feet just as her shoe touched the first stone, and her view of Gold was blocked. She found she was actually sad for that, having wanted to see his reaction to seeing her for the first time.

She came to the end of the path, her eyes fixed on the step of the pavilion. There was a tiny gasp next to her and her gaze flicked to the side to see the cuffs of Lord Gold’s coat and his hands crossed in front of him. After a long moment, she drew her head up and turned to take her place, finally letting her eyes meet those of her very soon to be husband.

Lord Gold’s eyes were wide and dark, a deep brown in the center and lighter at the edges like the swirls in a mug of cocoa in the winter. His hair was also brown, but flecked with silver, and long enough to fall over the edges of his high collared coat. It looked soft and just a little disheveled, in an endearing way, like that of a young boy after a day outside. Her eyes darted down, briefly, taking in the blue and gold swirls across his waistcoat, before moving back to his face.

The priest was saying something to the small audience, but Belle hadn’t caught more than two words. Gold’s face was soft and open, with little lines at the edges of his eyes that she could picture creasing when he smiled. His gaze settled on her, his lips parted slightly, and she felt a rather warm and pleasant feeling wash over her. The corner of his mouth twitched and then curved, and she pressed her lips together.

He reached for her hand, and she gave it freely as they both turned to face the priest. His palm and fingertips were just a little rough, giving her the feeling that he had worked with them more than most nobles, but comfortably warm and soft as well. Standing next to him, she was happy to confirm that he wasn’t much taller than she was, even in his boots. She didn’t feel insignificant next to him, not physically anyway. What she had seen of his attire spoke of wealth and station, and her simple, cream colored dress seemed mismatched in comparison.

His hand moved, and she blinked, not knowing where in the proceedings they were. He turned, and a second later she did as well, handing her bouquet to Ariel to hold so she could give him her other hand. Her mind was spinning, and she let her eyes fix themselves to the jeweled pin in the middle of his ascot.

The priest spoke again, and Gold squeezed her hands gently. She met his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. For a second she was confused and then it dawned on her that everyone was waiting for her to speak.

“Sorry,” she whispered, thankful that she had already attended so many weddings that she knew most of the phrases by heart.

The words felt hollower than she would have liked, rote and cold as she spoke words of devotion and love and duty. Gold did the same, and she couldn’t help the small smile she gave him at the sound of his Frontlands brogue. It was a pleasing voice after all, so different from her own and the accents she was used to. The next time she would reread his letter she knew it would be fresh in her mind.

The vows finished, they exchanged rings, and the feeling of the slim gold band sliding onto her finger, his hand holding hers gently, was far less suffocating than she’d thought it would be. She stared at it for a long moment, the simplicity of it better than the gaudy gem encrusted ring that had been selected by Sir Gaston. Her nerves settled further, and she looked up to meet Gold’s eyes again.

His face looked almost pained now, and his lips pressed together as he gave her a brief nod. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but then the priest was declaring them man and wife, Lord and Lady, and giving them the blessing of the King.

“You may kiss your bride.”

Oh.

Belle’s throat went tight. That explained the strange look on Gold’s face, and suddenly she was terrified of what would happen next, of being claimed in such a physical way in front of everyone, leaving them with only one possible impression of what would happen after the celebration to follow. As if he could read her mind, Gold lifted her left hand, drawing it to his mouth, and pressed his lips to her new wedding band with such a delicateness that it stole her breath away.

A shiver went down her spine as he let her hand go, and before she could get her bearings, they were turning to face the assembled. She caught her father’s eyes, and gave him the best smile she could muster, but his face remained sad and impassive. It was as if he’d abruptly realized what had to be traded in order for their family to survive. Gold squeezed her hand and then raised her arm, laying it over his as they stepped forward together, joined forever in the eyes of the new church, the old gods, and the King.

“Are you all right?”

Belle startled and turned to see Lord Gold - her husband - standing the archway of the garden entrance. It was exactly where she had stood at the start of their wedding just a few hours ago.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a small smile.

After the ceremony there had been little time to say anything to each other before there were additional formalities to tended to. Gold had signed the contracts assuming her father’s debts to the King and assuring payment, and then they had been ushered off to as lavish a dinner as her father could manage. It was only five courses, but still respectable, and welcome after her meager breakfast. She’d only managed one piece of toast and some tea then, but her belly was full of roast beef, butter potatoes, and a bit too much chocolate cake. It strained the laces of her dress, and she couldn't wait to get back to her room and change into something more comfortable.

“You’ll forgive me,” he said, moving closer, “if I don’t believe that.”

She frowned and straightened. “Yes, well, my apologies for -” He shook his head, smiling, and she stopped. “What?”

“If you had read my letter, I would have hoped you’d understand that there was no need to apologize. I am well aware of the sacrifice you are making.”

He stopped in front of her, his hands folded over a gold handled cane. She hadn’t seen it during the ceremony, but as soon as he got out of the garden, he’d been handed it by one of the staff. His limp wasn’t very noticeable at the time, but now she could see how heavily he was leaning on the cane, and she wondered about the origins of his injury.

“Are you?” she said, immediately catching herself and pressing her lips together. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

Gold laughed lightly, and she had to hold back a smile. It was an unexpectedly lovely sound, and she noted that she’d been correct about the lines by his eyes. The were crinkled quite flatteringly.

“There is one thing I would make absolutely clear, if I may?” he asked.

She swallowed and nodded, ready for things to change, for something of his true colors to show, for it to have all been a facade. Her hands pressed against her skirt and then curled as he came closer. There was even less space between them now than when they said their vows, and her heart started to pound.

He bent his head and reached for her left hand, taking it in his as he had done earlier. “I would have you always speak your mind.” She looked up, surprised, and he mouth curved. “Especially to me.”

Belle nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Everything I said in my letter was the truth,” he continued. “I will make no demands of you, save one.”

Here it comes, she thought, and her hand tensed in his. He must have noticed because he frowned and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the smooth ring that would adorn her hand for the rest of her life. It was oddly soothing and she relaxed slightly.

His jaw worked, his lips flattening before he swallowed, throat bobbing against the silk at his neck. “I would only ask that when the time comes, you will do what is honorable and just for my son.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her brow ceasing in confusion. His words didn’t make sense to her, and she had so many questions about what time and what he meant by what was honorable and just, but his expression seemed so desperate that all she could do was agree.

“Of - of course,” she said, her voice cracking. The affirmative seemed insufficient for the way in which he was all but begging her to concede, so she added, “I will always do what I feel is honorable and just, by your child, or anyone’s.”

That seemed to placate him enough, and he nodded, letting out a soft, slow breath. “Thank you.” She nodded and he let go of her hand. “Would you be opposed to departing this evening?”

Belle bit her lip. “So soon?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It is several hours to my estate, and I don’t like to leave my son for too long when he has no one else. I would have brought him, but...well, I was just as unsure of what to expect as I imagine you were.”

She smiled at that, and let her head drop for a moment before she looked up at him again. “I don’t know what I imagined, to be honest.” Then she sighed. “But, yes, I understand. We should leave soon.”

Gold turned to go, but she called out to him, her curiosity getting the better of her. “You didn’t kiss me, during the ceremony. Why?”

He turned, pivoting on his cane and letting the tails of his coat flutter out behind him. “I believe I did.”

His expression was teasing, and she could see the slight twitch of his lips, and laughed. “You jest, my Lord, but you know what I meant.”

“Cameron,” he said. “We are married; you should call me by my name.”

Belle swallowed hard. It was something she thought they might grow into, but it also felt right to do so now. “Cameron,” she repeated. Then she tilted her head, giving him a coy look. “You are avoiding the question.”

Gold licked at his bottom lip, his tongue resting there for a brief moment before he spoke. “I made a promise,” he explained, his expression was soft and his free hand flexed at his side as though he wanted to take hers again. “No more than you are willing to give. In all things.”

With that he turned and left, his cane and his boots thumping lightly against the stone walkway that lead back to the house. Belle pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart thump hard against her palm, and shook her head. Her world felt like it had been turned on end, yet she was less afraid today than she had been yesterday.

Perhaps marriage would not be as terrible as she had imagined.

[areyouscarletcold]

Fic Writer’s Year In Review

@sophiainspace​ did a post about this and since I figured I ought to try it out...here we go!

General fic stats for 2018

Word count on AO3: 199,754 words - most of which came from Bound By Silver Tongue. Go figure.

Number of fics on AO3: 27.

Most popular fic (by kudos):

Bound By Silver Tongue - my Ella Enchanted inspired Coldflash au fic. Summary: Sara Lance had touched his nose then, as his mother explained, with a shake of her head. Magic bled from her fingertips, seeping into his veins. “He’s got a pair of lungs on him, doesn’t he?" Len let out another wail in response and she snorted. "My gift will be obedience. Now, stop crying, Leonard.”

And for the first time that night, Len stopped crying.

(In which Leonard is cursed, Lisa has an affinity for shiny things, Barry feels pressured, and Cisco just wants to save Central Kingdom.)

I kind of expected it (since this is my multichap fic and those tend to bring in more kudos, especially for a popular pairing like Coldflash) but it’s really nice to know that people cared enough to kudos for the fic, even if it was only a couple hundred or so. Here’s to hoping that number grows before the end of 2019!

My favourite fic to write:

Hmm this one’s hard. I want to say Bound By Silver Tongue, but since it’s ongoing and there are definitely days when that fic is more frustrating than fun to write.... How about oceans you once crossed (now they disappear) - my Coldwestallen 1940′s fic. 

Summary: "Do you ever think about what will happen after?"

"After?"

"You know... After the war ends? When we go home?"

When. Not if. There was never an if, never a doubt in the other’s mind.

As heart-wrenching as this fic was to write (and read over sometimes), this is one of the few fics I can stand to reread without nitpicking every last word. It’s definitely not everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m really proud of how it turned out, especially since I wrote it as fast as I could before the deadline for Coldwestallen Week. And now that I think of it, I believe this was my first ever Coldwestallen fic so...huh.

Funniest fic:

I’m not sure, to be honest, but I thought my short snippet for the “Food” day of Coldwestallen Week, Small Bites, was pretty funny at the time. 

Summary: “We’ve taken down metahumans and changed time and cheated fate. If Captain Cold can’t handle having a happy birthday, that’s on him. We’re going to at least finish frosting these cupcakes, though, because they smell delicious and I’m starving.”

Fluffiest fic:

I’m really bad at writing solely fluffy fics, oops. Maybe crawl into your atmosphere - my AgentReign fluff & hurt/comfort fic? I really enjoyed writing the kitchen scene with Ruby. 

Summary: Alex figured she deserved to be selfish, just this once. To hell with the consequences when she got to see Samantha Arias smiling down at her like she was sunshine incarnate, her hair haloed around her head in the dim light of the bedroom before she crushed their mouths together.

Saddest fic:

I know I’ve already put it on this list but hey...death and war and PTSD kind of take the cake on this one. So oceans you once crossed (now they disappear) definitely wins.

Most challenging fic to write:

What Tangled Webs We Weave - my VERY late submission to Coldwestallen Week’s “Superhero” prompt that I griped and groaned and nitpicked for months over. As much as I’m happy with how this fic turned out now, it makes me scowl to reread some of these scenes and just remember how many goddamn web phrases I had to write. Thank goodness for all the love and support via the Shipyard Discord server and for @kiddystormi and @sophiainspace for beta-ing this fic and all who encouraged me not to throw in the towel. 

Summary: “Damn radioactive spiders,” Len muttered under his breath.

“Lenny,” Lisa’s lips twitched in a valiant effort not to laugh as he searched the room for his sneakers. “You do realize you can’t blame your terrible flirting on an insect that gave you superpowers, right?”

Or, 5 Times Len Saved His Crush(es) and 1 Time They Kicked Ass to Save Him 

Fic I’m proudest of writing:

I can’t mention oceans you once crossed (now they disappear) AGAIN or Bound By Silver Tongue, so how about Speed Bump - my Coldflash role reversal fic that inspired the series it’s now part of. I may have restarted it about seven times, but I’m proud of how it turned out in the end. It also helps that people commenting mentioned the characterization and the parallels to canon I tried to keep, and nothing makes me happier than comments about good characterization, since that’s one of my biggest worries. <3 

Summary: When it came down to it, Barry seemed to take pride in making his life difficult.

Least popular fic:

Walking in a Winter Wonderland, but this makes sense because it’s a little self-indulgent collection for all of my prompted fics about the Killer Frost!Barry au @agentmarymargaretskitz and I’ve been obsessing over. Not that I don’t love it, of course, but I also have barely written for the au as it is. Probably should get on that.

Honourable mentions:

i believe we’ll (be okay) - my Goldenvibe fix-it set in S3 of Flash that I do wish got more love because I’m bitter about Lisa and the handling of these brothers CW has no problems killing off, okay? Cisco and Lisa deserved better. 

Summary: Cisco hadn't intended on spending the night.

This just went up recently, but my Thundergrace fix-it (because really, do CW writers know nothing about continuity?) To Face Unafraid (The Plans That We Made) is one I’m rather proud of, since I’m hoping to write more of these girls in 2019. 

Summary: Grace, Grace, Grace. Her thoughts always came back to Grace these days.

(Or, how they really get together.)

General writing reflections:

I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump until 2018. Up until I posted that first chapter of Bound By Silver Tongue, I hadn’t truly sat down and written fanfic or anything for myself since 2016. Writing original works didn’t help. Trying to go back and write chapters of fics I already had up didn’t work. It wasn’t until I got inspired and sat down to plan out BBST for the first time in my life that I realized I was genuinely excited to write again. And this past year has granted me the most fics I’ve ever written - including prompts - and that’s just since April! I wrote 17 fics for Ao3 this year, and while I know amount doesn’t matter, writing these fics helped me realize just what was holding me back. I’ve learned to take up betas and even just supportive friends to bounce ideas off of so I can stop fussing over my work, even when it’s not necessary, and while editing my own work isn’t a bad thing, I’m learning to relax and stop worrying about every line. Each time I sit down now, I try and make time to sprint and write things that I enjoy, rather than what people demand - because I love feedback, but seeing Moar please!!! Sequel!!! was what drove me into the ground and to write for fics I didn’t have much interest in in the first place. I’m also trying to leave more comments, since I always forget to and there are so many incredible content creators in these fandoms.

THANK YOU to anyone who’s read my writing this past year!

Writers You Should Read

I only got into the DCTV fandoms within the last half of the year, but the community and joining Discord servers really made it special and helped me get into the groove of writing - and reading all of your amazing works! Special mentions to some of the writers whose work helped me get through 2018:

@agentmarymargaretskitz @bold-sartorial-statement @nixie-deangel@stillnotginger10 @pinkletterday @wonderingtheblue @tobyaudax @barrylen @jewishgarygreen @kleptoandpyro @coldflashwave-baby @hiverforesteevee @sugar-haus@sugary-bowl @robininthelabyrinth @coldflasher @coldtomyflash @pheuthe @sproutwings @plinys @sophiainspace @writerrain @kendrasaunders @crimsondomingo @katyakora @lenleolenny @allofourkingsaredead @sparroet @swashbucklery @drnathanielheywood @ladyofpride @joanthangroff @silas-lehnsherr @itsbrookeks

and many others who I likely forgot to name, but I love each and every one of you. Go read all of these writers’ fantastic fics! And a special recommendation to the Shipyard Discord server, which is full of many incredible and lovely people, all of whom write wonderful fics and were one of the main reasons I got any fic writing done this year. They all deserve the world. <3

Have a happy new year and a great 2019!

[gothamstodd]

Red

1940′s!Bucky Barnes x Reader Colors: Part 2

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary: In which he brings color to your dull world.

Warnings: a little bit of light innuendo, brief blood mention, language, enjoy the fluff while it lasts because shit’s about to go downhill.

Author’s Note- So I posted this yesterday, but I wasn’t happy with the (almost nonexistent) response it got, so I reread the fic to see maybe why it wasn’t getting the desired response and I realized I honestly didn’t like it very much. So I rewrote the whole thing, and I like it way more now, I hope y’all do as well, but at this point I’m not as freaked out about response as I was yesterday (lol I guess I needed validation, but now I’m pretty confident in it all by my lonesome). Lol, sorry for that tangent! I worked really hard on this series so I would love love love to hear what you guys think of it so far!

Masterlist | Ask Box |

Blue | Red | Violet | Black | Gold | White | Green | Epilogue

Rain poured down around you, and you would’ve thought it would turn the whole world to shades of gray and silver. But somehow in the weather, things looked even more colorful. People’s clothes and their vivid umbrellas seemed to glow in the rain like splotches of paint on a canvas. The plants that sat by the doors to shops in their greens, and their yellows, their reds, violets, and blues of various flowers with rain dripping from their petals. Even the whites and blacks of the city around you seemed more dimensional, as if they were hiding their color and it was beginning to slip through the cracks, shine through the weakest points.

It was almost as if the whole world moved in slow motion, as if the people around you were breaking out of a painting. Characters from the hand of an artist slowly learning to move their stiff limbs, to reach into something deeper than the canvas.

You and Bucky ran. Hands interlocked, with grins on both your faces, rainwater splashing onto your ankles. You knew people stared, some of them frowning at your disruption of the natural rhythm of the Brooklyn sidewalk. Others smiling wistfully, remembering some time they saw the same color you did. Hands interlocked with someone else’s, grins on their faces, youth in the glow of their cheeks. That had all disappeared for one reason or another. All that was left the wistful smile, the memory.

Puddles lined the road and spotted the sidewalks, ripples rapidly appeared in them, crashing into and over one another. A river ran down the gutter, a paper boat sailed past and a little boy chased it, managing to beat you and Bucky as he ran, despite his stubby legs.

“Bucky!” You called out through a giggle, pointing ahead at a bakery. He nodded, and you both came to a stop when you reached the building, taking shelter under it’s blue awning. You laced your fingers with Bucky’s, your other hand falling on his left shoulder, where the fabric his shirt was soaked despite all your efforts to avoid getting wet.

Laughter fell over your lips. Bucky couldn’t help thinking that the smile on your face matched the sunshine that lived in your eyes so perfectly. His hands fell on your waist and he pressed a fierce kiss to your lips.

It had taken several dates to the cafe and the library before you finally let Bucky take you dancing… provided he taught you how- and he let you step on his feet a few times. You quickly found you were a terrible dancer, but Bucky didn’t seem to care. You had been walking back to his place when it started to rain, so he started to run and pulled you along with him.

Rain ran off the awning like a sheet around you. “I think I really really like you, Bucky Barnes.” You said, beaming at him.

“I think I really really like you too, Y/N L/N.” You barely let him finish his sentence before you were kissing him again with equal fervor. “You are so fucking pretty.” He breathed once you pulled away, still so close that his breath fanned over your lips.

“James Buchanan Barnes, watch your mouth!” You admonished teasingly, jaw dropping as you leaned away from him.

You let him leave his hands on your waist as he giggled childishly, “You love it.” He said, swaying back and forth as though the song from the club you’d gone to still played around you.

“Maybe.” You smirked, cocking your head. “Hey, do you want to get some cookies or something?” You asked, nodding toward the bakery you stood outside of. “We can eat them when we finally get back to your place?”

“Won’t they get wet?” He asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

“I can shove them in my purse.” You shrugged, “Or in my bra, depending on how many we buy.”

He laughed, “I’ll buy you anything you want, but we might have to save them for later. I have other ideas about what we could do once we get back to my place.”

You rolled your eyes as Bucky looked you up and down with a sly smile on his lips. “Okay, let’s get cookies to save for later then.”  You replied with a quirked eyebrow and lopsided grin.

“I really fucking like you.” Bucky shook his head.

“I really fucking like you too.” You replied shortly, taking his hand again and dragging him through the door.

You came out of the bakery with a stack of cookies that was unfortunately too big to stuff into your bra- which Bucky made a creatively lewd comment about. You laughed anyway, and shoved the bag into your purse. You both ran the rest of the way to his place, hands folded together as he pulled you behind him.

You opened a few different cupboards and doors in Bucky’s kitchen before you found a good place for the package of cookies. He stood behind you the whole time, arms snaking around your waist as he spread kisses over the side of your neck. You placed the treats on a shelf and barely got the chance to turn around before Bucky’s hands were placed firmly on your hips and he was lifting you onto the counter. You yelped in shock, but quickly dissolved into giggles.

“You’re adorable.” He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief, eyes almost glued to your lips, which were tainted bright red with rouge.

You only kissed him in response, twining your fingers into his cropped brown hair.

“Um, Bucky-” You jumped in shock at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, consequentially pulling away from Bucky’s kiss. “Oh. Sorry to interrupt.” The scrawny, blonde, young man who had spoken began to turn back to the hallway he came out of.

“Steve, what’d you do?” Bucky asked with a sigh, turning around to face ‘Steve’, his left hand still absently placed on your thigh.

Bright red blood dripped slowly down Steve’s jaw, his pale face half covered in shaving cream. Bucky smiled back at you quickly before stepping away, his hand falling back to his side.

“You don’t even have to shave.” He said to Steve.

Bucky rummaged through a drawer until he found a ratty white cloth and handed it to Steve, “Put pressure on it.” He told him, before turning back to you.

“This is Steve.” He said, gesturing to the blonde, who now held the cloth against his rapidly bleeding wound. You waved from your spot on the counter, offering a friendly smile.

“Steve, this is Y/N.” Bucky introduced you. A smile played on his lips, but you couldn’t tell what exactly he felt as he said your name.

“The same Y/N you haven’t been able to shut up about for the past couple months?” Steve teased, a grin on his face, half covered by shaving cream, half by the rag he held to his jaw.

“Shut it, punk.” Bucky replied weakly, a soft red blush coming to his cheeks.

“Jerk.”

Read part three here!

@badsongwinchester* @5shadesofcool* @waywardswain ​@chinalois ​ @stevieboyharrington

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