#need to draw him wielding his staff more physically too

[ssalballoon]

a mage's last resort weapon (needed to see him covered in blood)

the midsection anatomy i had to cover up under the cut 😔

no i cannot draw that he's staying smooth TTOTT

[sepublic]

Belos’ Day of Unity

            This episode confirmed a HUGE detail for us, and it’s that the Day of Unity involves merging the human and Demon Realms together! This better explains why Belos wants the Portal… If he just wanted to access the human world, he could do that with regular Titan’s Blood alone, but he needs something on a level that can maintain a lasting, open connection between the two! Not only that…

         But as Boscha so ‘kindly’ reminds us later this episode, Luz’s glyphs don’t work in the human world! Magic is a gift from the isles… And with the association of wild magic as ‘elemental’, how Luz’s glyphs take an elemental form… How they were the first form of magic, learned from observing the isles themselves and whatnot-

         It seems wild magic, at least as how Belos defines and hates it, takes a lot of cues and even draws power from the Boiling Isles! From the Demon Realm itself… Which, is interesting because;

         Belos clearly wants to control magic. He sees it as something witches have to more or less earn back… But ideally, they have to earn it from him entirely! Bile magic is something Belos can control, it’s confined to people’s bodies and he has the coven bindings to do so- Belos can control bodies, he can override that autonomy, and it comes from a source he can regulate. You can even see it with staffs, especially the one that Hunter has!

         Staffs can be taken away, they can be broken and drained. They’re external, but in a way that Belos can easily separate a witch from… And with Hunter, this takes on a whole new twisted meaning, because Hunter’s staff is (or rather was) his ONLY source and means of magic… 

        And as someone who created that staff no doubt, Belos can easily tamper with and restrict the spells that Hunter can access with it, no doubt- I wouldn’t be surprised if Belos could turn off Hunter’s staff at will! It’s his to give and take as he pleases, and given Belos’ unwillingness to create more Palismen, we still see plenty of carefulness with staffs as an external source of magic as well. Belos might intend to replace magical staffs with his own version that he can control!

         But wild magic and glyphs? They come from the isles, they come from the very land itself… And Belos CAN’T restrict the very fabric of the reality he lives in. Glyphs are an outside-context problem, you don’t need a bile sac to wield them; And they completely bypass the issues of coven bindings. You can’t restrict glyphs, the way you can’t restrict knowledge- It’s always bound to slip through Belos’ grasp, no matter how hard he tries. And once a secret is out, it tends to spread like wildfire…

         Belos can’t just apply some massive coven binding to the Demon Realm entirely… Can he?

         That’s of course where the Day of Unity comes in. Where OUR world comes in… If magic, specifically the wild magic that fuels glyphs, is sourced directly from the Demon Realm itself… And our world has no magic, glyphs are useless there? 

        Belos might intend to neutralize the Demon Realm’s magic entirely, by fusing it with the human world! And/or, with how the human world seems more vast than the Demon Realm (the Boiling Isles is only the size of Vermont), the magic inherent to it will be spread so thin that it’ll be too weak to utilize.

         And that’s… As Luz might put it, fiendishly clever! Belos recognizes his limits. He knows he can’t control the knowledge of glyphs, the memory of them- And even if he could, people can still learn directly from the isles itself, from the Demon Realm itself- The Light Glyph can be found in the stars! So long as the original source exists to learn from, nothing is truly stopping someone from paying attention and finding it on their own, potentially by accident!

         If Belos can’t truly, physically control this magic and restrain it- Then it’s a liability, especially since it can grant coven-bound witches access to full magic again, and allow them to turn the tides. It makes Belos and his system redundant… So he has to remove the original source of wild magic, WITHOUT destroying his own world and of course himself in the process!

         In comes our world. With the Demon Realm’s magic neutralized and/or diffused, the only source will come from the bile in witch’s bodies, which Belos CAN restrict. Sure, some witches might escape here or there, slip through the cracks and have unbound children… But that’s nothing compared to the threat of glyphs, which anyone can learn at any time!

         And if Belos plans to somewhat conquer the human world, at least to defend and maintain his own utopia- It works out again! Because our technology is based on knowledge, nothing is stopping the witches of Belos’ society from learning and adapting to our own technology, repurposing it for themselves. We already see technology exist to some degree anyway, such as in the Abomitons, and Belos’ own creations! It’d be easy for witches to repurpose our own technology for themselves.

         But humans? We can’t cast magic. We have no bile sacs… And even glyphs, the one form of magic we COULD wield, would be rendered powerless by our own world! Sure, there might be a few witches here or there that would come to our side, that would oppose Belos’ conquest and imperialism… 

        But those select few wouldn’t make up for the vast differences in numbers, nor could they have kids who’d grow up at a fast enough rate. Magic can replicate technology’s uses in its own way –scrolls can access a magical version of the internet- and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Day of Unity will also empower Belos as some kind of all-powerful, magical god who could easily handle what us puny humans throw at him, anyway.

         Aside from a much smaller population… Again, it seems magic is a good way for Belos to ensure his own power and conquest over our world, too- Or at least to keep us out of his own borders. Perhaps Belos only intends to rule his select portion of the Demon Realm within Connecticut, and bar out everyone else to their own devices, occasionally checking in to make sure we don’t ‘invade’ his own bubble.

         Maybe Belos doesn’t even intend to transport the entire Demon Realm, just the Boiling Isles itself, to the human world… Which of course isolates witches from that source of wild magic even more.

         There is an issue of course- And that gets down to how witches create magical bile. With how magic is a gift from the isles, it’s possible witches are simply able to convert the innate magic of the atoms and molecules around them in their digestive system, and turn that into bile- Meaning without this ‘magical radiation’, eventually a witch will run out of magic bile and be depleted, should they stay in the human world without any access to the Demon Realm.

         Does Belos know, or even care? Maybe this is his way of also removing magic entirely… Or as I said, with how magic will be spread thin when our worlds fuse; Perhaps it will exist in enough of a capacity in this fused realm, that biological witches can still harvest this magical radiation and produce bile. 

        Or, based on how King described it in The Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles, witches just naturally produce their own magical radiation in the form of bile- They don’t need to be connected to the Demon Realm to do, they are their own sustainable source!

         Either way, Belos’ plan makes a disturbing amount of sense… It’s the final nail in the coffin as a way for him to physically control magic, and it’s the outright death and eradication of wild magic as well! He has no interest in conquering our world, not necessarily- Just in bringing his over so he can kill off the final source of magic that manages to elude his control.

         Any imperialism may come as a natural byproduct of this type of crossover, but it’s not what Belos specifically intends from the fusion- So in a way, he wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t his plan to conquer the human world. 

        Belos didn’t say it’d NEVER be his plan… Just that this specific goal doesn’t involve that, not necessarily. Plus, he’d argue that any conquest would come fully as a means of self-defense, which… Would not be wrong either, because there’d definitely be humans who’d reject the society that Belos would bring in, and seek to eradicate and/or control it for themselves too!

         Once the Day of Unity’s crossover ensues, it seems the only magical liability that Belos would have to worry about is… Unbound biological witches, witches who DO have a bile sac, but aren’t under Belos’ control! Hence why he stresses to his coven heads;

         “The larger your covens grow, the more power we have to unite our realms, where the worthy shall inherit a utopia free of wild magic.”

         It’s possible Belos plans to use his coven bindings as a means of powering whatever magic he needs to pull this crossover off- I’ve speculated before on the demon realm’s solar system forming a glyph combo to do this, but it’s not out of the question that Belos would need a little extra power for such a massive event. 

        Perhaps Belos intends to drain the unused magic of every bound witch- After all, about 8/9ths of every bound witch’s magic is sealed away, presumably unused… So to Belos and his coven heads, they’re not really depriving anyone of anything by draining that unused magic?

         Especially if witches’ magic can still replenish over time anyway (unless you’re cursed), plus spreading the individual cost that each witch will have to fork over for the Day of Unity, across more witches, is arguably the moral thing to do anyway! 

        Hence why coven bindings are necessary, not just to fuel the Day of Unity, but to also remove the final liability that Belos would need to deal with. Ideally, Belos wants every witch bound before the Day of Unity, so he won’t have to worry about any biological witch when the crossover occurs…

         But at the same time, I doubt it’s strictly necessary- So even if it’s ideal, Belos is obviously going to go ahead with his crossover if there are still unbound witches. He can still deal with them later… They might have a bigger world to escape out into, which is why he stresses this be done sooner, rather than later, when witches are more confined to a smaller space and easier to find- But Belos still ultimately wins, one way or the other.

         Belos’ plan and Day of Unity is unimaginably grandiose, horrifying, and worst of all… Makes so much sense, it connects everything together in a reasonable way! Though it only makes sense from a viewer’s speculative perspective, and in-universe from the perspective of Belos, for the kinds of goals he’s looking for of course. 

        From a general and moral perspective this plan is completely nuts and terrible, but in terms of what Belos is actually trying to accomplish, a society where magical is truly bound… (Albeit not an actual ‘utopia’ like he claims), I hate to say it but this works perfectly, and that’s terrifying! Unfortunately, it seems this fucker does know EXACTLY what he’s doing, very much! And Belos is batshit nuts.

        And there’s a good chance that somebody in this meeting is very understandably not enthused with Belos’ plan, even outright intimidated, and determined to stop it as a result...

[miscellaneous-obsession]

the four Lord's (plus mother Miranda?) with a ticklish s/o?

You got it, now I don't stipulate I write for Moreau or Heisenburg but there is a first time for everything!

Mother Miranda:

Miranda learns by chance that you are ticklish, a moment of deep thought broken when you squirmed in her hold.

Her hand drifted across the nape of your neck, an area of weakness. Unsure of the initial meaning, she peered at your stoic expression, repeating the action only to see it falter.

This newfound knowledge, while entertaining, is not frequently used against you as it is rare for Miranda to indulge in such childish antics.

However, observing your complete submission while laughing uncontrollably brings a smile to her face.

She is relentless in her tickle attacks, hands roaming in tandem with wings, their feathers eliciting squeals from your lips every time without fail.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

A woman of her position prides herself on knowing; having an abundance of information solidifies the power she can wield over others.

Your particular areas of sensitivity are no different. However, being her beloved alters the situation; she never takes advantage of this as her respect for you rivals her pride.

The matriarch adores skating both hands and mouth across the expanse of your skin, eliciting goosebumps and laughter, she craves to replicate at every opportunity.

She is fair and just regarding the usage of power, acting accordingly, knowing full well when you seek more or less. Additionally, as you calm, your beloved showers you in affection, pressing kisses in abundance to reddened cheeks.

Alcina is reluctant to publicly tease you, favouring a more private setting far from the prying eyes of staff and her daughters. 

 Donna Beneviento:

Initially panics at the squeak you let out as she brushes across a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

Worried she hurt or startled you, she leans forward, catching a glimpse of your reddened face, her anxiety mounting at the prospect she had done wrong.

This wasn't the case; rather you were embarrassed but feeling your beloved abruptly tense, you are quick to reassure Donna that she had brought no harm.

From there on, to bring light to situations, the dollmaker teases you, delighted when peels of your laughter reach her ears, it is her favourite sound.

Though, it is Angie who taunts you the most, choosing inopportune times to stimulate squeals and jerky reactions. Despite your glares and attempts to halt her wooden limbs extending further, she continues to be a little menace.

Salvatore Moreau:

Moreau was periodically hesitant to touch you, let alone come into skin to skin contact, fearful that his unpredictable ailment could harm you. Therefore it came as a shock when a brief exposure pulled forth a giggle.

Poor Sal was baffled, unable to identify the source of amusement. With patience and a guiding hand, you explained, allowing him to repeat the motion to learn kinaesthetically.

Given newfound comprehension, he grew more comfortable with the prospect of initiating physical contact, tickling being a firm favourite.  

It amused you greatly to find that he exhibited substantially more child-like glee in these instances, apparent in his laughter, a level rivalling your own as he tickles you.

You indulge both his requests and surprise tickle attacks more than one should, but observing Sal’s happiness convinced you within seconds that you repeatedly made the right decision. 

Karl Heisenburg:

This man can still struggle with the concept that you wish to be with him. He quite literally blue screens as he draws one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard, your melodic giggle.

It catches him off guard, having only brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Heisenburg freezes in place like a statue, not even breathing whilst his eyes widen. He'll refute it, but he totally blushed.

His need to hear your laugh once more clashes with the stern, grouchy persona he attempts to maintain. At times the former wins, often in private quarters where neither his inventions nor lords would dare cross.

He never goes too far with a tickle attack, relenting rather easily as your laughter or breathing becomes choked or erratic. Karl will consistently care more for your well-being than his own desires.

You have him wrapped around your little finger, much like he has you. So he isn't overly surprised when you purposely seek him out in the factory, enacting a form of tickle war on your own accord... and yes, you tickle him; hearing his laughter rumbling in his chest is music to your ears.

[coping-via-clint-eastwood]

CSI Characters as Ancient/Medieval Fantasy Warriors (title is tentative)

I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!!!  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???????

*ahem* This is speculation about what powers and skills the CSI characters would have if they were warriors in an ancient/medieval fantasy setting, amongst other things. This was probably inspired by my recent wallowing in medieval fantasy (specifically Songs of War {if you don't know what that is, it's okay}), and I thought, why not entertain the idea? And after writing it out, I can say that it was fun toying around with it. If this inspires anybody to add on anything, or write fanfiction, or whatever, by all means go ahead.

@addictedtostorytelling @bartramcat @buildinggsr @davesdude80 @dobbyofearth @fandomismymiddlename @originalpinkranger @panchostokes @space-helen @stokes-theorem

All the people written about here are humans with powers.

Gil:  He has enhanced eyesight, and is a sniper archer. If I may draw your attention to the ending scene of season 4 episode 2, All for Our Country:

Bonus shot because it reminds me of his Will Graham days:

He is canonically a deadeye. So, I am extending that to be a superhuman power. I'll put it this way: he can aim and shoot at the same target a contemporary sniper with a scope could; he does not require (or have, for that matter) a scope. Because he is not so able as his younger teammates, so he cannot be in the direct area of battle and fend off opponents. But he has excellent eyesight, so he hides up in a tree or on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the area or wherever is applicable, and shoots any targets he can.  He uses a crossbow, since not as much strength is needed to pull back the cord as compared to a bow.  He also has a light wooden staff which he uses to help him walk up inclinations. It's also his defensive staff; if an enemy manages to sneak up on him, he can point the staff at them and shoot a forcefield that will blast them back. But this is only effective at close range, hence why he has to use the crossbow for opponents further away. He wears a hooded cloak which is green on one side and a dusty brown on the other, so that he can camouflage himself, turning the cloak to whichever side he needs to match his surroundings.  He is not the only one to wear a cloak however; Catherine, Ecklie, Jim, DB and Finn wear cloaks (more details when I get to each) as well to show they are of higher ranking, but only Gil's is hooded for practical purposes.

Warrick: His power is that he can jump really high. He can jump over a small hill and land on the ground on the other side. He's the one who helps get Gil to his perches if needed; he puts him over his shoulder and jumps, holding him with one arm and his war hammer in his other hand. He is strong enough to carry Gil. And Gil trusts him and is comfortable enough to let himself be borne in such a way, never struggling or crying out in fear when he is suddenly brought off the ground at such a high rate. In tandem with being able to jump high, he can strike his hammer on the ground when he lands and cause a quake. His hammer's enchantment depends on how high he jumped. On the ground, he swings his hammer at an opponent and sends them flying back (at a much greater distance than Gil's forcefield).

Bobby Dawson: He's the archer who is in the direct area of battle. He uses a small hunting bow, and also has a gladius in case any opponents manage to get close to him. He has enhanced reflexes, so he is able to turn around, draw weapons, and load and shoot his bow faster than normal.

Catherine:  She is telekinetic.  She does not use weapons because she prefers to have her hands free to gesticulate and help her focus on moving the objects she is controlling.  Her cloak is a beautiful royal blue.

Heather:  Mind control + reading minds + telepathy.    And invisibility.  Aside from turning the team's opponents against each other, mind control is useful for helping friends escape from dangerous situations; sometimes, it's easier than telling them what to do.  She needs very strong concentration for her mind control, which is the ability she uses the most, so she makes herself invisible and keeps out of the way, but stays where she can see the person she is manipulating.  Like Gil, she has the defensive staff in case anyone finds her.

Nick and Sara: They are what I like to call the speedster twins. It is very satisfying to wash them nyoom about and quickly kill any opponent in the path of their run. Typically, they start out standing next to each other at the same point, and then run on one side of the battlefield each. So they take out the opponents on the skirting of the battlefield. Sara has a cutlass while Nick has twin daggers.

Greg: He can talk to nearby spirits and ask them to help his team in the fight. With the power of this necklace that he has, he can conjure a protective invisible dome-shaped barrier around himself, which is invulnerable to any and every form of attack. Except if somebody were to dig their way up from below him of course. However, he has to stay in the same spot when he is inside this barrier, and has to deactivate it if he wants to walk (or run or whatever) somewhere else. The spirit of the person who gave him the necklace follows him everywhere, and stays by his side on the battlefield to protect him from any opponents who manage to get close.  Greg has a curved cleaver in case he needs to fight.

Al:  Aside from being a healer, he can freeze time.  Sort of. He can freeze the movement of anybody who is coming at him, no matter how many there are. He does not wield weapons. He has wooden legs (which are enchanted to be completely painless for him) and a staff, but without the power that Gil's and Heather's have. To heal someone, he just has to touch them, for as long as it takes for the wounds to completely heal. **I was thinking about making him have something to do with necromancy, but I thought that that's too much like Greg's power.

David:  He is the other healer, and is the one who kills the people that Al freezes. He just makes them fade out of existence. It is completely painless, and that way they don't have any bodies lying around the healers' area. Also, while Al heals physical injuries, David actually cures illnesses. So he has to touch his patient for as long as it takes to eradicate the infection.

The two healers typically stay in one spot, ready to head out into the battlefield if any of their teammates are injured.

Archie: He is the cryokinetic guardian of Henry, Wendy, Mandy, and Hodges, who are not combatants. He does not use weapons.

Henry:  He is a blacksmith, in charge of repairing the people's weapons, and making new ones if necessary. He also makes the arrows for Gil and Bobby.

Wendy: She is an enchanter who imbues weapons with offensive powers, such as the quake and blast effect on Warrick's hammer, or the enhanced sharpness of the speedster twins' blades.

Mandy: She enchants weapons with defensive powers, such as Greg's necklace, or Gil's and Heather's staves. She is also the one who made Al's wooden legs painless.

Hodges: While Al and David are physical healers, and while Wendy enchants weapons, Hodges is the one who restores the powers of other people. He is not really drained when he does it, but it is better for him to stay still and rest while other people fight. It works exactly how Al's and David's healing does.

These five people typically stay near the healers.

Jim:  He can control the weather.  That also means he can summon lightning.  And hailstones.  And rain (creatures that are made of fire or lava are susceptible to rain).  Like Catherine, he has his hands free to focus whatever he's bringing down from the sky onto wherever his target is.  His cloak is pitch black in colour.

Conrad: He can clone himself; up to five clones of himself can exist at a time.  It's alright if they are hurt or killed; so long as he is still alive.  He wields a scythe.  His cloak is a really dark grey, almost black, but not really.

Morgan:  She can fly. This is not a power which requires restoration. Since she does not use wings, she can fly in rain. She uses twin swords.

Sofia:  She is a shapeshifter.  But she can not only turn into other creatures; she can turn into objects like a boulder or something. In such forms, she is invulnerable to like, say, a fist striking her, but if someone were to try and blow her up, she would have to turn into something else and run away. You know those fire creatures I mentioned? If she turns into one of them, she can harness their powers. Basically, she takes on the abilities of anything she turns into.

Riley: She can turn into any of her opponents, whether she has killed them herself of if they are standing right in front of her. Heather would be aware that this in fact Riley (telepathy yo), and Riley will work together with the person Heather is controlling. Unlike Sofia, while she becomes the mirror image of someone, she cannot have the skill level of the person she turns into. She herself is proficient with a club; if she turns into someone who was a swordsman, she would be wield a blade as well as them, and will continue to use her own weapon. If she turns into one of those fire creatures, she might be able to use their fire, but she doesn't have as fluent control over it as the original person. In fact, it is much safer for her to not turn into such creatures.

Ray:  He has enhanced strength, which enables him to rotate his huge double-headed battle axe about his wrist above his head.  And by "huge", I mean that the stick is almost as long as him, and the blades are bigger than his head. The stick is also quite thick; it has to withstand the weight of the blades, and the impact with which it is struck. By "rotate", I mean Ray is able to hold the handle at the very base, and pivot it perfectly around.

DB:  Teleportation.  This son of a bitch randomly popping up out of nowhere?  Yeah.  His weapon is a really small but especially sharp dagger, easy to conceal, and a quick and effective killer.  He appears, quickly pokes his opponent, and then teleports to the next one.  He can teleport anywhere within his viewing distance; he has to be able to see where he is teleporting to to go there. His cloak is silver in colour.

Finn:  She is pyrokinetic.  Her cloak is typically orange, yellow or red, but it can change colours to whatever fire she is wielding, which includes green, blue, purple, white, and even black fire.  She does not use weapons.

Additional idea: Gil and Sara are soulmates. But they were not fated from birth; rather, their soulmate bond formed when their connection deepened. Before they met, their soulmates could have been anyone else, or they could have gone without a soulmate for the rest of their lives. Even when they met and fell in love at first sight (I'm one of those who hc that they did; ymmv), they were not yet soulmates. It was when they really got to know and understand each other implicitly and became unbreakably steadfast in their connection, of their own accord, that their soulmate bond formed. The physical manifestation of it was when their soul marks appeared; Gil has a butterfly on the right side of his neck, close to the back of his neck, and Sara has a rhinoceros beetle on the underside of her left wrist. Being soulmates, they can heal each other and restore each other's powers. The most soothing times for them to do it is when they can lie down somewhere private and hold each other close.

When their marks first appeared, everyone kept congratulating them; there was a lot of friendly teasing from Warrick, Nick, Greg and Hodges. As for themselves, they remained passive until they were in the privacy of their bedroom.  They sat down on the edge of the bed, embracing and leaning their foreheads on each other's, uncontainable smiles on their faces as they had a little heart-to-heart.  They did not really have to vocalise much; they had always been able to understand each other with just a few words.  Then, they leant back from each other, but remained close.  Sara lowered her head and slowly, reverently kissed all over Gil's mark; he closed his eyes and let her do it, enjoying how it felt, moving his head to one side so that his skin on the right of his neck was stretched flat and easier to kiss.  When Sara was done, they leant back again.  Gil lifted Sara's wrist to his mouth and kissed all over her mark, with as much care and adoration as she had done his.

[mtreebeardiles]

Armor Upgrades, pt 3 (Everett x Kaidan)

Oh hey, there’s a part three to this! 

Full piece on AO3

Steaminess included

Everett Shepard had seen his fair share of impressive biotics ever since the SR-1, but Kaidan always managed to take it to another level. 

 Once wary of the dark energy he himself could wield, it had become something almost admirable the first time he'd seen the then-Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko use it. Something about the other man's control, his calm, his deliberate, intentional usage just… spoke to something in Evvy, the way so many things about the other man did. Cautious admiration had turned into something deeper once Kaidan started teaching him, and Everett would be lying if he said there wasn't something inherently thrilling in the way Kaidan used his abilities. 

 And maybe a touch distracting, sometimes, too.

 "What's this for, then?" Breathless laughter against him and Evvy was patient enough to let the other man catch his breath before diving into another searing kiss. 

 "What do you mean?" Everett panted, seizing Kaidan's lower lip between his teeth and sucking. "We're just…making sure the Kodiak is all good after that mission."

 "Is that what we're doing?"

 "Mhmm. Gotta be thorough."

 "Oh, well, when you put it that way," and Kaidan cupped his cheeks, drawing him back in, gently urging entry and Evvy all too happy to give it to him. His soft moan muffled against him as Kaidan slipped his tongue into his mouth, kissing him with a fervor that sent ripples of goosebumps across his skin. 

 "…think the shuttle bay is clear yet?"

 "Probably." A moment, resting against each other, long enough for Evvy to get his disordered thoughts back in order. He took Kaidan's hand, tugging him out of the Kodiak. 

 The shuttle bay was clear, for the moment at least, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. For all he figured most if not everyone aboard knew he and Kaidan were a thing, he still felt it appropriate to keep personal things…private. 

 And right then, he wanted to get very personal.

 "We not kitting down?"

 "Upstairs," Everett replied, flashing a sly look Kaidan's way. "Figured you liked it so much the first time…" He laughed as Kaidan moved faster towards the lift, tugging Evvy along this time. 

 The last time had been a bid to remember, to reassert their own boundaries and redraw them in the wake of what they wanted. It had ended with some much needed reconciliation, Evvy thought, and he didn't regret that the evening hadn't gone as he'd originally planned. 

 Their heart-to-heart had been far more important than any physical intimacy.

 Now, though, they had settled into a rhythm that worked for the both of them, and that meant sharing space again, going into the field again, carving out moments to be together again. 

 It meant seeing his brilliant, amazing partner in action again, and remembering how his finesse could set butterflies loose in his stomach. 

 Evvy's armor was a turn on for Kaidan; Kaidan's skillful displays of biotics was one of Evvy's.

 And that skill had only gotten more impressive in their time apart.

[turnaboutimagines]

Angst Gremlin here (although this request really isn't angst) Apollo, Dick, Miles, Phoenix (and or Simon/Nahyuta's) reaction to noticing someone following/stalking (Possible yandere or serial killer) the reader? (I kinda feel like they should have stalked the reader for awhile) How would they handle the situation? Or a reaction to the reader being attacked?

Putting this one under a readmore to be safe!Characters: Apollo Justice, Dick Gumshoe, Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright, Simon Blackquill, and Nahyuta SahdmadhiContent Warning: Stalking and mentions of the reader being physically assaulted.  Stalking is usually done by someone the victim knows in some capacity, so I went more from that angle.Also a little spoiler warning for a reference to a major plot point in AAI2 for Miles’s.  It’s incredibly short, vague, and doesn’t have any specific details, but if you want to remain entirely spoiler free for the last act you may wanna pass on his.

Apollo Justice.

Apollo’s endured a great deal of loss, so this is something he takes incredibly seriously right from the get-go after you tell him.  He sensed that there was something making you tense, but this certainly isn’t what he was expecting.

Would make the most of his working relationship with Klavier to draw it to the prosecutor’s office’s attention and get some help in going through all the legal motions to get you the help you need.

While he doesn’t want to infringe upon your freedom and feels guilty, he’s going to insist he walks or bikes you wherever you need to go.  Even if he’s really busy, he’s going to take the time to make sure you are safe.

Does what he can to help improve the privacy and safety of your house, too.

He’s going to be very stubborn about making sure you have someone you trust around to keep you safe at all times.  Even if it’s not him, he wants you to have friends over or just... somebody you can trust.

He’ll send you a lot of check-in texts over the course of the day whenever he can’t be with you.

If you were attacked, he’d be beside himself and wouldn’t leave your side if he could help it.  A lot of tears are shed between the both of you.

He puts his trust in Klavier that whoever did this to you is going to get the punishment that they deserve.

It takes a while after for him to feel like everything’s fine again.

Dick Gumshoe.

Dick’s not going to be letting you out of his sight until this guy’s locked up.  He’s quick to get Mr. Edgeworth on board and get you set up for a restraining order.  

When your stalker violates it, it quickly turns into a criminal case and he’s very insistent on being on the case—he wants to make this arrest himself.

As much as he doesn’t want to use his gun, he’s sure to keep it on him.  He’s got an excellent aim and he’s not about to let any harm come your way.

Insists that he should drive you to and from places in his jalopy, it’s not like he has a personal car anyways, but he hopes that making it clear that you’re close with a member of the police will help.

Is extra cuddly with you and does everything he can to try and cheer you up and keep your spirits high while the investigation continues.

He’ll even loan you his favorite, lucky coat if it helps you feel safer or more secure whenever he’s at work.  You need it more than he does right now and he trusts you with it.

If you’re attacked, he’d be incredibly harsh on himself because he feels like he failed to protect you.  He’s a mess.

He’s not going to leave your side, either, but it takes a lot of reassurance from both you and Mr. Edgeworth to console him.

Afterward, he’s going to be very overprotective of you for a while after.  You mean the world to him.

Miles Edgeworth.

Miles is no stranger to having a stalker, but the nature of yours is highly concerning to him and he’s going to immediately launch into helping you get a restraining order.  Helping you file it, himself, and collecting any evidence of potential violations afterward.

It quickly becomes a criminal case and he handles the investigation himself.  Even if he’s not assigned to it, this may be another instance of an illegal investigation from him.

In the meantime, he’d be very supportive of you participating in some self-defense classes and will even join you (in fact, he insists that he should).

Does what he can to help you focus on other things and will invite you to spend the night more often over at his place.  Even if it’s just to cuddle.

He’s subtle about it, but all of these things ensure that you’re close at hand and in a secure location to give you both some peace of mind.

He’s working himself ragged to get this mess sorted out, but he makes sure you’re informed of all he’s doing every step of the way.

If you’re attacked, he’s going to throw everything he has into the investigation.  He will not rest until the arrest is made… the only time he rests, at all, is when he visits you.

He’s very much a mother hen toward you, doting on you in his own way.  He’s just thankful you’re alive.

Phoenix Wright.

Phoenix is highly concerned and does what he can to notify the police and help you file any necessary reports.  He does the paperwork for you and is a huge moral support, especially when the stalker continues to violate it and stay off the grid.

Despite the smile puts on, he’s incredibly worried for your safety and is ready to do anything in his power to keep you safe.

Does everything he can to keep you close and to also keep your mind off of things.  You’re more liable to end up spoiled during this time period.

He’s always got at least one arm around you and he will be very encouraging of you staying over at his place or him coming over to yours.

It’s times like these that make him wish that he had a proper car and driver’s license, his bike is hardly ideal but 

And you better believe that he is fully ready to put himself in harm’s way at any moment to buy you time to get out of there or, ideally, to harm your stalker and buy enough time for the police to arrive so they can be apprehended in the act.

If you’re attacked, he’ll feel terrible that he wasn’t there when you needed him the most.

He’s going to be even clingier than he has been lately

He has Edgeworth fill him in on what’s going on with the investigation, but unless you ask he’ll keep that to himself.  You’ve been through enough as it is.

Simon Blackquill.

He seems perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside he is seething.  And continues to the bolder and bolder your stalker grows as they continue to violate your restraining order.

He knows the particular type of stalker you have, he talked with a particularly despicable one while he was in prison.

He does what he can to engage your stalker in a rather one-sided game of psychological warfare, doing things like sharpening his swords where he knows your stalker is likely to see him.

You’re going to have a sword or two in easy to grab places around your house and he teaches you how to wield them.

Taka’s usually with you during this period of time, providing you both comfort and protection.

He’ll have it set up so you know how to care for his beloved bird and can keep him as a companion overnight when Simon isn’t able to be with you.

If you’re attacked, he’s going to be equal parts guilt and rage.  Clearly, he failed you as both a prosecutor and a partner to allow this to happen… especially if you were together before the UR-1, as he’s put you through enough suffering as it is.

He terrifies the nursing staff tending to you, but he rarely (if ever) lets go of your hand.  

And he’s going to be especially vicious during any interrogations the creep’s going to be put through.

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi.

He is incredibly alarmed by this revelation and uses his position to investigate this case himself, along with providing you with the customary legal protections in Khura’in for someone in your position.  Of course, it doesn’t deter your stalker.

His father trained him in how to detect when he’s being followed (knowledge that has served him well over the years), he passes that knowledge onto you.  

He also shows you all the Defiant Dragon hiding spots and secret passages that he knows of when he’s confident the two of you are not being followed.

And he will train you in some basic martial arts sparring techniques and, if you demonstrate adequate spiritual potential, how to wield prayer beads as he does.

For your psychological well-being, he encourages you to meditate and will treat you to some of your favorite food as often as he can.

He always lends you a sympathetic ear 

When he senses that you’re being watched, he’ll walk closer to you and place a hand on the small of your back.

If you’re attacked, he will pray to the Holy Mother for your well-being until it is confirmed that you will be okay.  He brings you flowers each day, but he is hellbent on capturing them before you are discharged from the medic’s.

He will pursue this foul foe and ensure that due justice is swiftly dealt to keep you out of harm’s way.  He will not abide by anyone harming his loved ones.

[whitherliliesbloom]

mettle of metal

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ]  ★ [ prompt #04 - clinch]

[ raubahn v.s wol ]  ★ [ 1,315 words ]  ★ [ post-heavensward spoilers ]

‘ to confirm the winning or achievement of ’

on the day the bull butt heads with the lamb, who was the true victor?

“I’ve always wanted to test my mettle against yours, Warrior of Light. I can’t say this situation displeases me at all.”

It does me. 

Illya has never been one to thrive off conflict or needless confrontations. Quite strange, most definitely, considering her fame as one who almost single handedly tore a hole right through the castrum’s stronghold. A test of strength against a friend, above all else, was something she absolutely abhorred. 

Not that she ever has a say in the matter.. she was, after all, always a slave to the whims and wants of others. 

The representative of Ishgard stood stock still in the midst of the freezing cold, with bed of hair tied into innocent little braids camouflaged into a sea of white around her. And yet in spite of the foreign colors she wore, Raubahn was all too familiar with her visage. 

A pair of violet jewels, spectacular in their luster, though holding just a tiny glint of danger within them. He’s seen that look in her eyes plenty, and yet it’s the first the threat of her soul piercing gaze has ever been directed at him. And in her hand, a rod made of metal and amethyst, name amply fitting for the diamond in the rough, the hero that held it - for the stardust that was their very own champion of Eorzea. 

Not now, however.. Raubahn had to remind himself, as he pushed the visor of his helmet down and raised his sword. In this very moment, on this very battlefield, she was his enemy, and the enemy of the alliance. And just as he’d sworn upon the sultana’s bedside, with tears that’d nearly spilled so uncharacteristic of his reputation, he would not fail to strike down any who would consider themselves enemies to her - friend or not. 

To his surprise, his foe had struck first, blasting the center of where he’d just been standing not less than a second ago with an unforgiving strike of lightning. The general of flames had dodged, just barely, and felt the full sting of electricity prick at his skin and cause his hair to stand.. and he hadn’t even been hit by her attack at all.

The mage waits not for him to recover, before she detonates a ball of fire upon his person that sends the bull flying across their arena.

He nearly rolls into the ring of flames he’d lit, and the man could do nothing but smile devilishly beneath his helm.

“You’re not the only one who can wield the power of flames. Behold!” 

The bull of Ala Mhigo was quick to pick himself up, and with a raise of his sword he conjured up his own raging flames, an inferno that burned hotter and brighter than the feeble little puff his foe had thrown at him. For his wrath and determination too towered over his foe - the girl he knew to be too softhearted for her own good. 

Illya was kind and gentle, almost too much so.. He’d once wondered of how a lamb could carry the flames of Eorzea as she does, rise to such fame and strength that not even the strongest of the imperials, the Legatus holding the title of the Black Wolf, could hope to match against her might. And though the general has long learned to not belittle the girl for her inconspicuousness, he has always wondered what the secret behind her strength was - what set Illya apart from himself?

She was the tender to his hardy, the white to his black, the gentle moonlight that would never meet his blazing sun. If he was a warrior, forged by the battles that has painted his entire body with enough scars to map the world, then she was a flower that had bloomed upon that very battlefield he fought on.

But flowers who could not accept its need for their own sustenance, a flower who refused to grow thorns.. will not survive for long in a war torn environment. If nothing else, he hopes her defeat will teach her that.

The flame general’s attack causes the girl to step back and stumble, the first Aymeric had seen her done in a while, and watches helplessly as Raubahn charges the girl with his sword swung to his side.

It was all she could do but to physically block his blade with her rod, grimacing as she barely avoids the sharp end of his sword from grazing her head before sprinting away from the man.

“Do you plan on running forever, warrior?! Your weapon is nothing more than a mere stick next to mine!”

Any distance she’d hoped to draw between them was always effortlessly closed, and any time she’d planned on buying to cast her spells to counter his attack was whittled away bit by bit, as was her strength. 

Raubahn was as observant of his enemies as he was strong, he surely must have noticed the lack of resistance as he struck the shaft of her rod. As was necessary for the conjuring of black magic, all of her magic was being imbued into her longstaff, but not herself. 

The wall of flames general Aldynn had summoned was not to damage her, great as her defense against magical damage as she was. It was to throw her off balance so that he might close the gap between them.

“I’ll finish this!”

The bull of Ala Mhigo charges, sword raised high above his head that he swings down towards the lamb, who helplessly raises up her rod. 

Foolish girl, doing that with her weakness will only cause her to crash down beneath his feet.

Metal against metal, steel against steel. The smell of ash fills his nostrils, and all he could hear was the deafening screech of his sword against...

her sword?

“What?”

Stardust has faded. The moon has sunk beneath the horizon, leaving naught but darkness. And from beyond the horizon, a shadow rose. 

How many summers has it last been since he’d had his sword pushed aside so effortlessly like this? He’d been reminded of his bouts with Ilberd, of his time as a calf who could barely even tell a swords’ hilt from its pommel. 

The feeling of fighting a foe he’d dreaded to clash blades with, a foe he knew to be stronger than himself in every way.

It would seem.. he’s underestimated the Warrior of Light again.

“I never knew.. you knew how to wield a great sword.” 

What a sight it was, to see the Lalafellin he’d always known for her dainty little staffs and canes to be carrying a jet black sword that was larger than herself, and to see the lavender glint in her eyes glow an almost ominous red. Illya’s stance was nothing like before, nothing like the stumbling, flustered lamb he’d thought her to be.

“If...If it’s a close fight you want..” Illya’s voice was the only reminder he had of who she was - of the delicate flower he’d watched bloom in his midst. He had just not taken notice of the thorns beneath her roots until it was too late. 

“Don’t blame me... You were the one who forced my hand.”

She didn’t want for it to come to this.. wished with all her might that she needn’t use him. But the unforgiving crystal in her breast pocket whispered to her, reminded her of the disappointment she’d cause her allies were she to fall without even giving it her all. 

And in that, the secret behind the Warrior of Light’s strength.. the crippling fear of failure, of the demon that laid dormant inside her. 

A victory clinched, a battle that was hardly even a contest. On that day, the bull had been brought down to his knees, and he stared up at the shadow with fear and pride in his eyes. 

[medicatemedrmccoy]

Check-up

For the anon ask yesterday, again, thank you for the ask! :) I think my fluff machine might be broke at the moment but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Why am I incapable of writing short drabbles?

1885 words - Leonard x Reader

You walked slowly through the corridor, down the familiar hallways towards medical. You had put off going to medbay for as long as you could physically stand it. 

Unfortunately your simple runny nose had turned into a full blown, bone rattling cough that you could no longer ignore, especially at night while it kept you awake, accompanied by a low grade fever that was giving you the chills. 

Your steps got slower and slower as you approached the bright lights of medbay along with the beeping of various machines. You could feel your heart begin to beat faster as your stomach churned and your throat start to go dry, only irritating it further as you gave as much of a muted cough as you could into your sleeve, trying not to draw attention to yourself. 

Your courage had all but faded as the doors to the medbay suddenly opened wide, startling you as you caught a glimpse of various doctors and patients milling around.

You quickly ducked into the closest hallway, hoping to get away and hide before anyone saw where you were headed. You thought you had made a clean getaway since no one seemed to notice you, except for one sharp pair of hazel eyes you hadn’t realized had caught you at the last second. 

“Dammit!” You muttered to yourself, leaning back against the cool wall, you closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You tried to take some deep breaths but your lungs wouldn’t let you as you began to cough once more, leaning over with your hands on your knees as your eyes watered. 

“Well now, that doesn’t sound very good.” A quiet voice said from closer than you were expecting. Your eyes shot open as you started quickly, standing up straight as you stared into the hazel eyes of a very concerned Leonard. 

“Len.” Was all you managed to choke out as another round of coughs racked your frame from the sudden movement. 

“Y/N? What’s going on? Why don’t you come inside so we can get that looked at. You sound terrible!” Leonard began to fuss lightly with a slight huff at how far you had let this ailment go before coming to see him. He went to put his hand on your elbow to gently usher you into medbay. 

As soon as you felt Leonard’s touch, you froze stock still, feet firmly planted on the floor so that not even god himself could’ve moved you. You tried to speak but nothing came out, not even a cough, which surprised you. 

Leonard misstepped slightly as he went to help you into medbay, not expecting to meet your sudden resistance. Quirking and eyebrow at you he gave you a once over and before he spoke, he met your eyes. He’d seen that look of fright in a certain blonde haired captain before. 

“Tell you what. Meet me at your quarters in ten minutes, alright?” Leonard said as he moved his hand from your elbow to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You briefly wondered if Leonard could read minds and that was how he knew everything. 

You swallowed slowly, as you looked up at Leonard, wincing slightly as your raw throat protested. You gazed into his eyes and his frustration that was apparent with his former outburst was all but gone from his eyes that were now gentle and held concern. 

The only thing you could do was nod. You knew Leonard was being nice so he didn’t scare you off, you knew all too well what might happen if you refused. You remembered many times when Jim would come running into your quarters, trying to hide from the hypo wielding doctor and it never turned out in the blondes favor. You still remember the red welts on Jim’s neck and the hours of wincing and grumbling that followed. 

You quickly did an about face, not looking back as Leonard made his way inside his medbay, no doubt to gather some supplies. Your feet carried you defeatedly back to your quarters. You hated the one on one attention but you hated the medbay more. 

Sighing as you punched in your keycode, you prepared yourself the best you could as you sat on the sofa, bouncing your leg and coughing into your elbow as you waited for Leonard to show. 

The doctor didn’t keep you waiting long, you could hear him punching in your code and you sat up a little straighter in your seat. The door quietly swished open and Leonard stepped inside with his medkit and stethoscope around his neck. 

He gave you a small, reassuring smile as he sat his medkit on your small coffee table before taking a seat himself next to you. You started to feel warm, and you didn’t think it was the fever. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted quickly as Leonard looked up from adjusting his tricoder, not interrupting you but encouraging you to continue as he raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

You gave a breathy sigh as you continued. “Normally I’m not like this, I come to my physicals and everything but sometimes with more invasive stuff it comes back up and I can’t help it.” 

You realized how confusing you sounded as the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth and probably figured it needed even further explanation as you saw the slight confusion flit in Leonard’s eyes for a brief moment at what “it” could be. 

Taking a small breath, you continued before Leonard could interrupt your small moment of bravery. “I’d rather not go into details but let’s just say that my doctor I had while I was growing up lost his license for malpractice on his younger patients.” You winced slightly as you finished, thinking back on the memories. 

Leonard sat still for a moment, his hands frozen in place on his tricoder as the implication of your words sunk in, the space between his eyebrows narrowed as his face flashed a brief scowl of disgust before smoothing out once more. 

“You know I’d never do anything you don’t want me to right? And neither would any of my staff if I have anything to say about it.” Leonard said gently as he took your trembling hand into his that you didn’t even realize was shaking and gave it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“I know.” You wheezed out slightly, trying to suppress a cough as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “I know no one on board here wouldn’t, but I still can’t get past it sometimes.” You replied quietly, your voice small. 

Leonard pursed his lips for a moment before patting your hand gently and grabbing his tricoder. 

“We’ll talk more about that later, alright? Let’s get you feeling better first.” Leonard said as he squeezed your hand again gently. He then angled himself to better be able to run his tricoder over you. You nodded your permission, wanting to get this over with. 

Your previous confession had seemed to exhaust you even further. You were glad that Leonard was choosing to wait for the discussion, you were too tired tonight. 

Leonard worked quickly, seeing the tiredness in your posture. He ran the tricoder over your chest and along your back. His expression got more grim as he checked your lymphs and used his stethoscope to listen to your lungs. 

“So how long have you been sick Y/N? You’ve passed a simple cold and gone all the way straight to pneumonia.” Leonard’s expression set in a slight scowl as he replaced his stethoscope around his neck with a quiet click. 

“Uhm, maybe last week? The cough only started a couple days ago.” You said softly, trying not to encourage the doctors anger, you could see the vein in his forehead starting to bulge slightly. 

“Dammit, Y/N. You should have said something sooner. We could have gotten to it quicker, so now it’s going to take longer… where did you even get pneumonia?” Leonard started to rant quietly as he fixed up a couple hypos.

You knew he was trying his best not to get upset, and you really couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be angry too if you had to deal with people dodging medical attention on a constant basis and making their symptoms worse on top of it. 

You also knew where you got the pneumonia, and that person had sworn you to secrecy. So now you risked the wrath of the doctor if you lied or letting down a friend and you were debating on which was worse.

Unfortunately for you, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Leonard was too good at his job. Before you could even answer, he knew by your hesitation. 

Leonard sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Jim. I’m gonna kill him. I should have known when you two canceled movie night. You never pass up an opportunity to torture me with old movies.”

“What can I say?” You smiled softly and shrugged. “Torturing you is half the fun of movie night.” 

“I’m going to let that slide on account of your being sick.” Leonard said with a small sigh. “Now let’s get this started.”

You eyed the hypos warily and Leonard seemed to sense your unease. 

“I wouldn’t give you anything without explaining it first. You know that right? I’m going to take care of you.” Leonard asked as he looked over at you, watching you nod. You knew he never would but shots of any kind still made you nervous.

“This one is a steroid and this one is an antibiotic. It’ll be a good start for now and hopefully help you breathing a little easier.” Leonard said as he rubbed your neck softly with his thumb before pressing the hypo gently to your neck. 

Leonard was done almost as fast as you could blink and was then pulling you over gently across the couch. You didn’t protest, you felt exhausted down to your bones and happily laid across the warm spot that Leonard previously occupied. 

“You rest here for a bit and I’ll be back soon to make you something to eat. I have another quick matter to attend to.” Leonard said with slightly narrowed eyes as he put a pillow behind your head and covered you with a blanket from the back of the couch. 

You knew that matter was Jim and you couldn’t help but smile softly as you watched Leonard pack up his medkit. He kissed the top of your head gently before making his way out the door. 

You quickly dug around in your pant pocket for your communicator, making yourself cough in the process. You quickly flipped it open and sent a 911 message to Jim. He’d know what it meant and you could only hope that he would read it in time before Leonard reached the bridge but you doubted the warning would do much good. 

Taking a deep wheezy breath, you settled on the couch, already thankful that you could already breathe a little easier, you settled into a light doze, waiting for Leonard to return.

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 31: Gates of Porphyry

Dorian and Cole are in the Fade, trying to rescue Tristan from the nightmare’s clutches. Dorian sets fire to a great many things.

This chapter is a bit long, so only the first part here! The rest is on AO3 :)

Read from the beginning

**************************

The gates of the keep loomed before him, high and impenetrable. Dorian let his gaze sweep over the wide expanse of houses, snow and trees that lay beyond the wooden walls. The familiar noises of a large settlement reached his ears; people chattering, ladles banging on pots and the beat of blacksmith hammers, mingled with the sighing of the mountain wind.

“Well,” Dorian said, gripping the hilt of his staff. “Shall we announce ourselves?”

Cole bit the inside of his lip, his eyes wide as they took in every detail, nimble hands hovering over his daggers. He glanced at Dorian, and nodded.

It was time.

Dorian let the power of the Fade suffuse him. A trickle at first, then a rushing river that made his lungs swell and his skin prickle. It had been a while since he’d used magic in the Fade, a long while, and the sheer amount of it, the ease with which it flowed through him startled him. It made him feel just a little lightheaded.

With a wide swing of his staff, Dorian cast, focusing all his intent on the walls before him. They looked dense and strong, rife with protective magic that seemed woven into the stone and the wood, but he knew this could be just one more trick the demon that controlled this part of the Fade had used. With enough focus, he could tear it apart at the seams, he knew that. Mages could manipulate the Fade to some extent, more if they were somniari, and that was what attracted spirits and demons to them, like flies over honey. Getting past the demon’s elaborate defences wasn’t just a demonstration of physical prowess or magical skill, but a battle of wills.

The gates caught fire with a loud, satisfying whoosh.

It was as if a bubble had been popped. A low rumbling drifted from beyond the walls, hundreds of booted feet striking the earth. Dorian could just make out the outline of figures gathering on the battlements and the watchtowers behind the thick, dark cloud of smoke that soon obscured the sky.

“It knows we’re here,” Cole remarked, taking a step forward. “It is angry.”

“You don’t say.” A small smile curled the edges of his lips as Dorian followed, already preparing his next spell. Sneaking about was never his strong suit. When in doubt, dazzle.

Or burn everything to the ground. That was always an option.

An arrow flew past him, then another. And another. Soon, there was a hailstorm of bolts, their dark feathery ends quivering on the ground all around them. Dorian’s barrier sprung with a soft, electric buzz, just in time for a particularly thick bolt to slide past it and away. Surely, they didn’t expect to defeat a mage with arrows, did they?

He hadn’t quite finished his thought when the blazing gates peeled apart and what seemed like an entire division of soldiers poured forth, the clanking of their armour and their loud bootsteps only barely swallowed by the wind and the thick carpet of snow. Well. That was more like it. Anything less, and Dorian would have considered it a discourtesy.

“This is it,” he told Cole. “Get ready.”

As if in agreement, Cole disappeared in a cloud of smoke, his form engulfed by a darkness that dissipated in a heartbeat. Dorian had seen him do that before, but here in the Fade he seemed to blend even more seamlessly with his surroundings. It was… just a little unnerving. What was even more unnerving was the sight of the man that ran forth to attack him, only to have his throat slit by thin air. Blood poured down his neck and the front of his jerkin, and he fell face down on the snow.

More and more came after him, their swords brandished, their armours polished to a shine, the sign of the Inquisition on their left breast and that strange sigil on their right; a horse, a sickle and a sword. What could it mean? Whose banner was it? There was barely time to think as he stepped to the side, away from an incoming attack. He swung his staff in a wide arc, and the middle of the division erupted in a fiery explosion, pieces of armour and body parts flying in all directions. Screams rose all around him as the soldiers scrambled away from the flames and the onslaught of limbs and broken weapons. Dorian fade stepped, back and safely away from the thick of the battle, landing next to a wide tree trunk. From his vantage point, he could see the sharpened edges of Cole’s daggers flashing in the light for a blink of an eye before sinking in necks, bellies, elbows, sides. One by one, the panicked enemies fell under the spirit’s swift attacks.

More kept coming, though. There seemed no end to them. Dorian knew they were not real people, only figments of memories and dreams, likely plucked from Trevelyan’s mind and manipulated by the demon. Still, it all felt real. The smoke clung to his throat, the smell of blood, spilled guts and burning flesh filled his nostrils, their panicked screams rang along the mountain top. It was odd and jarring, attacking something that looked and felt so much like the place he had come to call home for the past few months. In the minds of those soldiers, he was surely an intruder, and they were all defending the safety of their houses, of their families. Of their leader.

Speaking of which; where on earth was he?

Dorian’s mind swiftly supplied all sorts of terrifying scenarios to that answer as he summoned spell after spell. Perhaps he was bound somewhere, tortured by the demon until the last of his defences left him. Perhaps he was holding on by a thread before his resolve was entirely eaten away. Perhaps, and that thought chilled him to the bone, perhaps he had already succumbed.

Dorian had seen that before. He’d seen what it was like, to have one’s mind taken over by a demon. To become an abomination. He’d seen mages, fellow researchers and students, falling prey to the taunts of malevolent spirits from the beyond, their consciousness eroded beyond repair. Their shape remained familiar, but their minds… those were gone. Permanently, more often than not.

He squared his jaw, battling the feeling of nausea that came from drawing infinitely more power than he was used to. He wouldn’t let that happen to Trevelyan. He would do anything, absolutely anything to bring him back. Even if it meant cutting through an entire army to do it.

It certainly seemed like he was very close to that, right at that moment.

Cole was weaving smoothly through the soldiers, cutting them down one by one, more and more bodies falling prey to the ease with which he wielded his daggers. Dorian’s spells too, were doing considerable damage, burning and zapping anything in their path. Still, it wasn’t enough. They kept pouring. And pouring. How much power did that blasted demon command?

It was time for more drastic measures.

Dorian closed his eyes. He took a deep breath to slow the rapid beating of his heart as his tongue wove the incantation. The fact that they were in the Fade was an inconvenience- there was no telling whether the spell would react the same way it did on the other side of the Veil. Still, he had to try. He and Cole needed all the help they could get.

As the words left his lips, the sky overhead darkened, twisted and writhed, then split in two. Bolts of lightning filtered from the dense clouds, falling on the soldiers, paralysing them and sending them flying. Dorian concentrated his focus on their center, carving a path through the melee. The long stone bridge was just within view, and past them Skyhold, and within that-

“Cole!” he shouted, running towards the path his spell had opened for them. “Follow me!”

The spirit blinked at him, the side of his face drenched in blood. Whether the blood was his own or from one of the people he’d cut down Dorian could hardly say. His blade slid across a man’s neck swiftly, effortlessly, and then he disappeared in a wisp of smoke. When Dorian glanced beside him, after crossing the threshold of the bustling village, Cole was right there, quick footsteps falling in line with his own.

People stopped and stared as they ran down the long, straight road that led to the wide stone bridge. It was fortunate that they seemed not at all inclined to do anything other than stare or dart out of their way. The demon, it seemed, could control some things, but not all. The village and the keep beyond was fed by Trevelyan’s own memories or thoughts. Dorian should be thanking him, he supposed, that there weren’t villagers with pitchforks and torches running after them just then.

The lightning storm he had summoned was slowly subsiding, and it wouldn’t be long before the soldiers came after them again. Dorian’s heart was beating furiously from the exertion, but he had to do something to stop them before it was too late. As soon as the heels of his boots touched the stones of the bridge, he stopped and turned around, twirling his staff above his head. A wall of electricity sprung from the ground, blocking the entrance. He tied off the spell hard and fast- it would keep longer that way.

“They won’t stop coming,” Cole said, the barest hint of a pant in his voice. “The demon is strong. It’ll send as many as it can.”

“It definitely seems like it,” Dorian muttered as he resumed his running. He could only hope that they reached Trevelyan before those… people -memories? Figments of his dreams? Whatever they were, anyway- reached them.

A few quick fireballs took care of the handful of guards by the main gates- thankfully, they were at the same posts they occupied in real life. Dorian knew well how Skyhold’s defenses worked, so clearing the path was only a matter of time. As soon as they’d stepped past the gates of Skyhold, they both stopped dead in their tracks.

Where there had been a clear, cloudless day before, now a night sky littered with glittering stars hung above them. Where the courtyard had been filled with people going about their daily chores, now those same people were dressed in their finest outfits, dancing to the cheerful music of fiddles and lyres, drinking from cups filled to the brim with ale. Lit lanterns hung from the walls, or floated around them like wisps. Laughter chimed through the expansive gardens like a thousand tiny bells.

“What is all this? A celebration?” Dorian asked, thinking out loud. “Where did all the guards go?”

“Elsewhere.” Cole took a small step forward, eyes wide, scanning the place around them. “It knows me,” he said on a huffed exhale. “It doesn’t want me here.”

“It can sense you?”

“Yes. It can sense you, too. It doesn’t want you here either.” He weaved seamlessly through the people, making his way towards the main keep, and Dorian followed him, glancing about him warily. No one seemed to take much notice of them, let alone attack them, which only added to the eeriness of the place. He could feel his skin crawling, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. It all looked so familiar, but foreign at the same time.

“You must be careful,” Cole whispered to him as soon as they’d reached the wide staircase that led to the throne room. “The demon, it will try to get in your mind, too. Do not let it.”

Dorian waved his concerns away. “I’ve dealt with demons before. I can hold my own.”

“This one’s different,” the boy muttered, chewing his lip. His fingers twitched and tightened over the daggers on his belt. “Look for him. I’ll look for the demon. Go, now. There’s not much time left.” With that, he disappeared in the shadows.

Read the rest on AO3!

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Nine : The Separated Twins

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Trigger warnings for physical and emotional abuse, hallucinations, and panic attacks.

On one side of the world, Henrik is exploring what it would mean to be free of Anti – what it would be to fight. On the other, Trick does something harmless that ends with him being punished and then even deeper under Anti’s hypnosis.

The Separated Twins

Anonymous asked: I believe in you. I believe in all of you that you can help Trick see that Anti isn't good for any of you and that he should not settle for the constant abuse he suffers under him just for the occasional glimpses of affection and attention. Please Blue... You and the others have to show him, show Trick that love shouldn't be painful. It should be warm, healing, and brings you up rather than down. -🦀

“Yeah,” murmurs Blue. “Yeah, I’d like for him to know that.”

He’s lying in his and Trick’s room, picking dully at Trick’s Switch, Noodle cautiously set at the end of the mattress beside him. He looks a little better than when you last saw him a couple days ago, but he’s still so worn. At least he’s wrapped up in Trick’s warm nest and wearing comfy old clothes.

“He deserves better,” he says. “I don’t know how to show him. But I’ll love him as hard as I can, damn sure… all of them. I miss the others.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, maybe if you would treat your brothers like actual brothers and go to them for comfort instead of to beat them, maybe you wouldn't be such a miserable piece of shit. Ever think of that? Mindboggling, I know.

Anti breathes out a long sigh through his nose.

He’s moving around his room, his form shifting slower than you’ve ever seen it shift before, gradually making himself look more like Red. Flowers flicker and then die around his feet. He stretches and the flame of a candle breathes hotly towards the ceiling before settling down again. His body flickers moment to moment. His room is cleaner than it was before, much of the blood stained disappeared or hidden in the brown of the carpet, but printed pictures are beginning to take up the space on his wall.

“You’re all cliches of each other,” he says finally, voice thin and irritated. His eyes, when he turns to you, are vivid blue beneath glasses that look like Dok’s. “Nothing you have said has ever convinced me, spectators. Try to be a little more entertaining. I could turn you off again at any time.”

aether-mae asked: Hey Jackie, now that you’ve got max with you to help you out, I was wondering if u were still thinking of heading back to Peru to find Doc?

Ro and JJ are still with Max two days later.

Ro is wearing his new blue hoodie. He is clean. His cheeks have more color and there’s even a bit of sun in his face. He smells like honeydew soap because he’s been having a hot shower every day. He’s shaved.

He’s cut his hair too. Just a little. There’s no more dye in his hair. It’s his hair. He cut it. Well, with Dapper’s help. And some enthusiastic compliments from Max to boost his confidence.

He looks good.

Max is on the bed with Dapper, a stack of playing cards on the sheets between them.

“Okay, then I - do I need the joker? Mate, have mercy on me, you’re signing too fast. Hey! I’m a perfectly capable learner, I’ll have you know. Fine then, wait til I kick your ass at this. Oh, what, does that mean I lost? Shit. You rigged this. Next round I got you.”

Ro laughs and comes to sit beside them. Max pauses for a moment to grin at him before going back to his card game.

“Hey,” says Red after a little while.

“Yeah?”

“I checked with Dapper last night,” says Ro. “I was wondering if your offer to take us back to Dok in Peru still stands.”

Max looks up at Ro, smiling. Dapper gives him a fair chance and then steals all his cards.

“Wh - JJ!”

“Careful, he’s merciless.”

“No joke. Deal me another round. Really, though, Ro? You’d let me drive you? We can get another hotel tonight and be there in a couple days. I’d about die to see Henrik again.”

Red nods, smiling back at him. “Yeah, I mean it. We want our Dok back. Need to see my little brother. We might not have the others right now, but we’ll figure it out once we’ve got… Henrik.”

“Jackie,” says Max, clapping his hands together. “This is the best news. I’d love to. Can’t wait to see you fidget like a maniac through hours of car time.”

“Oh, fuck, don’t remind me.”

“Hahaha. Okay, yeah! Let’s head out tomorrow first thing, then! We’ll get a rental car if we can find one or start on the bus. Have to get you lots of snacks and entertainment, I know. There was this one time you and I were on a trip and by the end of it you were just about upside down in your seat. We were visiting Ireland so you could show me some of your home…”

Max and Dapper play cards. Max talks, loud and earnest and comforting. A friend. A friend who isn’t his family, a friend who wasn’t ordered to look after him by Anti. Just somebody who likes Jackie for Jackie.

Jackie sits on the bed and listens to Max talk for hours. Tomorrow, they’ll head back towards Lima.

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti what's those pictures in your room?

Anti pauses, his eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t bother to move you from position, letting you get a look at the pictures. They’re of his brothers. No, wait - just Doktor and Red and Dapper.

There’s one where Dapper has Red over his shoulder, leading him up towards the house in Peru, where Doktor is waiting to look after him. There’s one of Doktor and Dapper asleep side by side on their mattress. There’s one of Dapper staring out a window in Norway towards the glowing lights in the sky, one of Red hiking proudly up the mountain, one of Doktor staring placidly up at Anti, slicked entirely in blood and still holding a scalpel. All of them take place from the eye of a camera. Dok petting Noodle, Trick’s shoes just visible in the corner of the shot. Dapper looking sweet in his blankets and over-sized hoodie, hugging his bear to his chest. Red like a statue in motion, wielding his fighting staff, younger than you’ve seen him since Dapper sent him to the past. Rows and rows of pictures of them.

Anti shifts unhappily around his room, his body changing slightly, slightly. His hair curls up and tinges teal at the fringe, and he runs his fingers through his own hair like he’s petting himself.

Anonymous asked: How did you get all those pictures? Do you like take snapshots with your mind or something? Or did you have an actual camera?

“What’s the difference?” he grumbles. “I’m basically a walking hard drive. With a taste for blood. And, uh. I don’t know. Sentience. Hair. A couple too many teeth. I can go back and watch anything my cameras have recorded whenever I want. Printing them out is just moving data.”

He throws a knife at the wall, burying it just above one of Dapper’s teddies on a dresser.

spicydanhowell asked: seems like you really miss them, hm anti?

“Well, they’re mine, and I’m fucking pissed they’re gone, yeah!” He buries another knife on the teddy’s outline. “The only thing I know is that they’re fucking alive and probably not in jail. But I’ll have them back soon. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Trick’s such a little sycophant he almost makes up for the others being gone. He’ll be home soon and then I can have some goddamn rest. This is some bullshit. Tell God I want a fucking refund.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Wow, Anti. You actually miss your pets? Or do you really consider them your brothers?

“Family is a construct,” growls Anti, picking up the bear in his hands. “Dapper is a warm body. Doktor is an immune system. Red is a guard dog.”

He sighs and throws it aside.

“Fucked up, though. Used to hate how loud Red would be through the walls. Now I kind of want to hear him. What a little brat. Can’t believe he was separated from me. Bulletproof vest. Locked door. Guard dog. Safety.”

Anti puts his hands in his red hair.

Anonymous asked: Where's trick? Is he alright?

“Trick went to get some dinner and some books at the library,” Blue answers you, smiling faintly. “He really likes being allowed have some freedom. Just a bus ride and a couple errands, but he gets all proud, like he’s my breadwinner, taking care of me, haha. I love him. He’s mostly alright, but, uh. I have been noticing him acting strange.”

Blue draws his eyes away from the cartoon animal game he’s playing on Trick’s switch for a moment. “Something wrong in his head, I… I don’t know. He reacts strangely when I ask about Dok. I’m scared. I think it’s a trauma thing. He seems so spacey all the time. But he’s happy, I think? For the most part? Every now and then I wake up to him crying next to me, clutching at me, but who can blame him for that? I think I’d be more scared if he wasn’t upset that Dok was gone at all, which is… how he acts during the day. But yeah, I think he’s as okay as I could expect him to be, mostly. He plays this little thing constantly.”

Blue shakes the Switch at you for a second and the screen blacks out. Blue jolts, lifting his fingers away to see if he accidentally hit the power button.

“That’s not yours to play with,” comes a cool voice from his doorway.

Blue jumps and drops the Switch, letting out a hissing sigh through his teeth, annoyed and afraid, as he can’t help but be every time he’s in Anti’s presence these days. Every time he hears him, sees him, smells his oil smell or feels his electric sting, he is back on a Norweigan beach he barely remembers, back on the Rio Puturnayo, back in a hospital room, huddled on the floor as the blows rain down.

“Fuck off, Anti,” he spits.

Anti’s mouth curls with a snarl at him. “Poor little kitten,” he coos. “Poor stupid boy.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” says Blue.

“Or maybe I just don’t care,” answers Anti, slinking back into the living room, his eyes still on Blue as they both wait for Trick to get home.

bupine asked: why no pictures of trick or blue, anti? are you missing your boys? also, you seem to be having trouble keeping a stable form. any idea why that is?

“I have Trick and Blue,” grumbles Anti, throwing a hand up. “Don’t need to see them. Know where they are. Know that they’re safe. And I’m not - shut up!”

He glares down at his own body, flickering and flashing.

“I always glitch, that’s - I have a brand, goddammit! It’s this flesh that’s fucking horrible, I - motherfuck.”

He hisses and buries his claws in his own right arm, watching blood well up against the flesh for a second. Then the arm flickers back into incorporeality and the blood trickles onto the floor. He growls, yanking on his hair for a second, trying to keep calm.

“So infuriating,” he snarls. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been, but my own body rebels. Stupid fuck. Symbolic, probably, don’t you think? Even my own flesh knows I didn’t grow it myself.”

He barks out an odd laugh, shape-shifting again, that subtle, slow, constant switch. Just reassuring himself, with every moment that passes, that he can still do it. That he can still become data, immerse himself in code, travel by electricity. It’s just getting harder, that’s all.

And he is powerful. This, at least, is true. The windows of the house are blooming with flowers. The candles were Trick’s idea. Dozens of them lined around the house, constantly burning. A chance for his power to express itself instead of devouring him.

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling, Blue? It’s good to see you again!

“Thank you,” says Blue, cooling a little as Anti walks away, pulling you back to him and flopping back on the bed. “I’m feeling, well. I’ve kind of gone stagnant? Like the last couple days, I feel okay, but I’ve stopped… getting better, sort of. Just tired and kind of achey and, well, frail. Having bad headaches too, and I still, uh.”

He touches his foggy eyes.

“Tried glasses,” he says quietly. “Big thick prescription glasses. Trick called me Monty Mole for two hours without fail. But they don’t cut through much of anything. The world is a permanent blur, ha… but you know what! Otherwise, I’m okay. Just been resting. This asshole hasn’t bothered me too much.”

He lets his hand flail towards Anti irritably.

“Oh, and guess what?”

He smiles winningly at you and then -

He pushes himself to his feet without help! All the way from sitting on the mattress on the floor to standing upright.

“Tada! Thank you, thank you, that’s right, I’m Blue the Magnificent, I’ll be here all week! Oh - shit!”

He crashes back towards the wall, laughing a little from the surprise and the slight embarrassment, though he still looks pleased with himself. He snatches up a cane that’s leaning on a windowsill and steadies himself on it, smiling at you.

“Tada,” he repeats warmly, standing upright.

“Meow,” cheers Noodle.

“Thank you, my dear.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is Noodle keeping you good company, Blue?

“Well,” sighs Blue. “The truth is I’m not really fond of cats.”

He stares down at Noodle and Noodle stares back at him.

“But after a bit of that hospital breakdown you saw, I know that Anti made me stop being fond of cats,” he adds softly. “And… killed mine.”

Noodle mewls softly, stepping forward to weave between his legs.

“So I’m trying to get used to him again!” says Blue, trying to find his cheerful voice. “Because I did like cats, I did! I don’t know what else he changed about my mind when he first took it over, but I want it back. And Anti can try to destroy me but I will keep fighting against it, even if only in these little ways.”

He summons his determination and leans down. Noodle bursts into throaty purring as Blue’s soft fingers scratch across his skull and golden kitten ears.

Anonymous asked: Hey any progress is good progress babey!! You’re doing so well! Very proud, so yes, cheers all around for Blue the Magnificent!

“I know, haha, thank you, yeah! I’m excited, I am! Like, it’s such a small step, but it’s a step, you know? It’s nice being able to get to the bathroom on my own and stuff like that. Honestly, when you’re really sick, it’s the small things that can be really demoralizing. Not that there was anything to be ashamed of! But it… felt like there was. Especially with how helpless I know I am in front of him.”

He glances over at Anti sitting in the den and he straightens his back fiercely, standing on that cane. He did good. He has to keep believing in himself. He’s making progress and Anti can’t stop him fighting.

Anonymous asked: HmmMMMM Anti it looks like your emotions are bleeding though a little bit....y’know cuz red is- yeah anyways, where did Chaser go?

“Great, great,” snaps Anti. “Yeah, I get it, betrayal of the flesh, blah blah. You know what, I already look fucking indistinguishable to the person I hate most in the world, so maybe destiny could just call that fucking good, but no, let’s add on to the discomfort of looking in a mirror.”

He kicks the stairs in the den space just for the hell of it. Stupid tangible feet.

“Not even my face,” he whispers, low and bitter. “He lives in the curves of me, in the cut of my jaw, in the way my eyes move. No matter how much I try to shape-shift. I wake up every morning looking just like him - but not like him - all over again. Bullshit. Made me a copycat and a fake at the same time. Bullshit.”

He heaves out a sigh, his black eyes stormy.

Laughter from the street interrupts his mood and he sits up a little, his face calming. He can hear Trick. Good, Anti’s sick of feeling alone. He gets up and looks through the window above the kitchen sink.

Trick must still be coming down the pavement because he can hear him talking and laughing, but he can’t see him. Who the hell is he talking to? Himself? Did his little mind finally snap? Is Anti going to have to burrow into his fleshy little head yet again?

“I’m telling you, I do like them!” he hears Trick laughing. “I do, I’m not lying, haha! It’s just I think the satay noodles are my favorite. But all the shit you guys cook is amazing, seriously. Yeah, I - no, I don’t think I have! Oh! Maybe I can try it tomorrow. Will you be there again?”

Anti stands back on his heels, frowning. His form flickers darkly.

Anonymous asked: We’re really proud of you, Blue. Really. You’ve been so strong though all of this. I’d be squishing you in a big hug rn if I could! Keep doing what you’re doing, be independent and don’t let no bitch tell you what you can’t and can do! You’ve got this :)

“Don’t let no bitch - haha, okay, thank you.” Blue laughs and sits down on the sill of his window, letting his head rest against the glass. “Hey, tell Trick to hurry up with dinner. That’ll be the real celebration. I love the hawker food he keeps bringing me. Glad I can eat for real, even if this is a little annoying.”

He takes the nasal cannula out of his nose in preparation for dinner. He’s getting better at breathing without it, even planning to try to sleep through a night without it soon. His lungs are recovering from the smoke and the burning. He breathes in deeply against the cool glass, his eyes noticing something out near the front of the house he’s never seen before, a colorful mess of cloth. Someone must have left it behind on the rusted old pole of metal that used to hold a hummingbird feeder or something. Weird.

Anonymous asked: Hey, trick! Whatcha up to?

Anti steps slightly back from the kitchen window and let his mind flood into the camera Trick carries with him.

Clothes shuffle and move around the screen. If you had to guess you would say Trick’s probably shoved the little camera in his hoodie pocket. From that one circle of light in the side of the pocket, you can see white hands with long red nails, and you can hear her tittering laugh over the sound of Trick’s almost breathless, enthusiastic talking.

“Dude, no! I’m telling you, these are for my nerd brother.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure? You’re not a secret professor of poetry, Connor?”

“Fucking look at me, do I look like a professor of anything?”

“Uh… skate-boarding?”

“Skate - ” He cuts himself off with a laugh and they both dissolve into giggles. Her hand brushes over his as they both gesticulate.

“Maybe weed?”

“I could be a professor of that, okay, you’re right. How about Minecraft?”

“Yeah, professor of Minecraft, I can see it. Kittens?”

“Now you’re just flattering me. I do love my kitten. Converse?”

“Noodle-eating?”

“Super Smash Bros.”

“America.”

“Just the whole of - hahaha!”

And they’re laughing together, there on the pavement just out of Anti’s sight as the sun glows red and pink over them. They’re laughing together and holding poetry books they picked out together at the library and take-out boxes full of hawker stand noodles and you know it’s Xin Yi, you know it is, and when there’s a soft silence and you can hear the both of them pause and look and breathe - well, then you know that he’s leaned in to press his chapped and loving mouth to her soft cheek, and that’s she smiling, and so is he.

Anti steps back again from the window.

He can hear the blood pumping loud, loud, loud through his head.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick! Trick! Be careful!

Trick’s still got his camera turned off.

The message goes to Blue.

You see his eyes flicker and his pupils shrink. His hands grip down tight around you.

“What?” he stammers. “What did Trick do?”

He’s on his shaky, shaky feet before you can answer. Staggering out into the den, using his cane, his oxygen strapped to his back. Trick. He has to protect Trick. That is all that matters.

“Trick?” he calls. “Amata?”

But there’s just Anti in the kitchen.

Still as can be.

The floorboards beneath his feet have burned down to the earth below.

Smoldering still.

Anonymous asked: Wait Anti don't punish Trick please! You know that he'd never leave you or doubt you or anything like that. For god's sake, he attached the collar that's traumatized him so much for you and never left your side these past days and helped you ground yourself and did those little things like the candles around the house for you. He's utterly loyal to you and he's undeniably yours, please Anti. Don't punish him for this.

“You can’t hurt him,” says Blue, over the soft hiss of the floorboards burning.

Anti doesn’t move.

“He loves you,” says Blue, louder. “Maybe more than anyone ever has. He’d do anything to make you happy. It’s horrible, but it’s true. He loves you or he thinks he does. Deeply, deeply. You can’t hurt him. They’re right. He’s done everything for you. He’d give you anything. Utterly loyal, undeniably yours. Maybe the last one of us who is. You can’t punish him for this. Just tell him no and he won’t - whatever he did, he’ll stop.”

Trick is coming up towards the door.

Anti stares at him, his eyes flickering. Black, brown, red, green, blue, white.

“Anti,” says Blue.

He is begging.

“Anti.”

spicydanhowell asked: you fucking did this though. in another world, if you were kind to them, they could have been a happy little brainwashed following for you. but you're not even kind enough to be a good tyrant... that's interesting.... you Drove them Away. they don't love you anymore. none of them

Anti can hear the words pounding through his own head.

You drove them away.

They don’t love you anymore.

None of them.

Anti has hurt, and hurt, and hurt, and hurt them.

He knows that.

But he always thought he would be enough to make it not matter.

He always thought he would be enough if he just tried.

Dapper is gone. Red’s not there to make him feel safe. Dok’s not there to help him if he’s hurt. Blue doesn’t want him. And all Anti has had for almost two weeks now is Trick.

Warm, loving Trick. The collar wrapped around his throat. His fierce blue eyes.

Anti thought he had been good to him. Kind to him. Warm to him.

And he still isn’t… he still can’t be… Trick still wants…

“Hey, Blue?” he says.

“What?”

“Why am I not angry?”

“You - are you not?”

He is paralyzed. Impaled. Petrified like a fossil.

“My chest hurts,” he says, and he leans over the silver sink of the unused home and vomits blood like a mortal.

Anonymous asked: You know he'd burn down the world for you if you asked him, would stay by your side even if you're burning in hell or lashing out at him. As Blue said, just order him or tell him that he can't do this ever again and he'll do it within a heartbeat. Please, Anti...

“Awww,” says Blue, and you can hear the cold sneer of his mouth even before you can see it. He moves on his shuddering legs to stand behind Anti, close enough that he can feel the burn of his own magic dammed up too powerfully in Anti’s chest. “Poor thing. Is my stolen magic making the little demon sick? Are you such a little virgin you get jealous of a single kiss on her cheek? What exactly are you compensating for that you can’t bear to see your fucking brother find a cute girl to hold hands with? Does that sting, Anti? Does it burn? Imagine if someone told you to hold that much power in for weeks… and weeks… and weeks… and then, after you lost control after all that obedience, they possessed you, cut you open, stole your soul, and blamed you for it. Would that hurt, do you think, little demon? Does it burn, Anti, does my magic burn?”

Anti turns like a snake striking to spit blood into Blue’s face, grabbing him by the throat and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Trick is the only one left who loves you,” cries Blue even as he scrambles away, his blue eyes flashing, his chest heaving for air. “Trick is probably the only person in the world who cares about you at all, and you’re going to hurt him because he blushed over a girl who showed him kindness? No wonder you’re so fucking miserable, you snake-faced son of a bitch. You need control so badly that you can’t even consider that we could ever love anyone other than you. How do you bear the twin system, anyway?”

“I’m the one who makes you love your twins,” hisses Anti, blood sliding out of his mouth. “You and Red could barely stand to look at each other before I wiped your minds clean.”

A burst of pain slams against Blue’s chest. “That’s not true!”

“Trust me, darling, it is, you can ask them. Red was baring his teeth at you, didn’t trust you, didn’t want you there. Then I swept it all away and told him to love you and he woke up not even knowing why he felt so fond of you. That’s what your whole relationship is based on. Just like your dislike of cats, Blue. I choose everything about who you are and you don’t even realize it.”

“Shut up!” screams Blue. “You’re a liar!”

“You’ll never be free of me. None of you will. This - this is the last straw, this and your traitorous brothers hiding away in South America. I won’t take any more of this. I will destroy this girl. Not just her but the warmth of her, the meaning of her, the need for her. Trick won’t even want anyone but me and the people I choose for him when this is over.”

“Guys?” squeaks a terrified voice at the door. “Wh - wh - what’s - ? Anti? Blue? Are you hurting each other?”

“Your fucking brother is losing his mind,” chokes Anti, turning to vomit over the sink again, fire licking across his teeth. “Shouting at me while I’m ill.”

“Don’t listen to him, Trick, he wants to hurt you for kissing that girl!”

Trick stares between the two of them, utterly flummoxed. Anti sets his gaze on him and a sudden terror rushes into his bones.

“A - Anti? Big brother?”

spicydanhowell asked: trick... sir... anti's gonna be mad at you for this???

“But - but - no,” stammers Trick, holding out his hands, confused, bewildered, terrified. “Anti, I… you’ve been so nice to me. You wouldn’t hurt me just for - she’s so nice, Anti, why can’t I - ?”

Anti’s hand draws back to strike him and Trick cowers and the blow -

The blow -

“Trick,” hisses Anti. Chokes Anti. Stammers Anti. “What - why would you - I don’t understand?”

“Anti,” says Trick, and then he starts laughing.

Anti stares at him, eyes huge. He looks down at Blue and Blue stares back at him, shaking his head.

“Anti!” Trick repeats, and grabs his shoulders. “Man, come on, what the hell!”

“Don’t laugh at me, you little brat!”

But he is, he’s laughing, and smiling at Anti, and holding his shoulders, and hugging him. “You’re so - oh, fuck’s sake, Anti. Are you jealous I kissed a girl?”

“No!”

“If you need help with girls, I could - ”

“I don’t care about girls, Trick!”

“Oh, well then maybe Blue or Red would be more help in that department, but - ”

“I’m angry at you!”

“But you wouldn’t hurt me,” says Trick softly, still smiling. “You would never hurt me.”

Blue stares up at Trick.

And he can see - oh, fuck, he can see the glaze of the hypnotism over his eyes. He can see the influence.

Trick can’t even comprehend it right now, that Anti would hurt him. Trick probably didn’t think twice about bringing Xin Yi back here.

Because Anti is his family and Anti loves him and Anti wouldn’t hurt him over a kiss on the cheek.

Right?

“Trick,” he hears himself whisper. “My little brother.”

How many times has Anti wormed inside his head today alone? How many of his thoughts are turned back towards him? How much of Trick is even still in there?

“You… didn’t even think about it, did you?” says Anti, very quiet. “How I would react to this.”

“No, I did! I want to tell you all about her, she’s so cool! Anti, she’s super cute, did you see her? And hey, I think they might have a brother, I could - ”

“Stop,” says Anti. “Stop. Let me breathe for a second.”

Trick stops immediately and fetches a towel from the bathroom, returning moments later to start wiping the blood gently from his mouth. “Poor thing,” he mumbles, touching Anti’s face without fear. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Anti. But you shouldn’t feel threatened. That’s kind of dumb, man.”

“I’m going to kill you,” growls Anti.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Trick, smiling at him.

And that’s it. It’s done. You see the moment Anti regains control.

The confusion is gone. The snake is back.

“Oh, Trick,” he soothes, reaching out to cup his face in return, and Blue gasps and hides his face as Anti’s eyes turn black and drowning. “You don’t understand, do you, little brother?”

Trick’s eyes unfocus like a blind man’s. He hums distantly, the towel pausing on Anti’s cheek.

aether-mae asked: Trick, it’s not safe to have friends outside of your family at the moment, as much as I hate to say. Anti will definitely hurt her to keep you all to himself.

“You’re going to hurt me?” asks Trick distantly, swaying slightly on his feet.

“I thought about it,” answers Anti, smiling sweetly at him, carding his hands through his hair. “It would have been so easy. Maybe I still will. Shove you in the shed and beat you til you’re sobbing for me to kill you.”

Trick’s eyes flicker, but his mouth is still smiling.

“It’s not your fault, really,” says Anti, brushing his fingers through his soft locks. “You have abandonment issues, don’t you?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You just want everybody to love you, poor thing.”

“I do,” confesses Trick, his face faltering with grief. “I do.”

“Course you fell for a sweet girl. Blue’s been useless to you. Dok’s gone. You must have been confused. But, see, you don’t know what I know, Trick.”

“What, Anti?”

Anti puts his head down on his shoulder, staring up at him, his mouth close to his ear.

“I’ve seen girls break your heart, Trick.”

“Break my heart?”

Anti runs his fingers over the scar in Trick’s head.

“She made you do this… you don’t remember. I made you stop thinking about her. I set you free from her.”

“You… you weren’t being possessive. You were trying to protect me?”

“That’s right, little brother. Besides, what do you need her for? Your family is right here, Trick. You don’t want to give our cover away, do you? They’d send you off to jail… take all your brothers away from you… take me away from you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Trick shakes his head swiftly, making himself dizzy. He clutches on to Anti for support, eyes drifting back towards his skull.

“Stop it!” screams Blue, no longer able to stand it. “Leave him alone! You’re ripping him apart every day! He doesn’t like having you in his head?”

“You want me to bind you up in your own vines and beat you til you cry again?” snaps Anti, turning to level a violent glare at him. Blue is paralyzed beneath the gaze.

Anonymous asked: We've seen old magical books, Anti. Blue's magic is going to kill you. It's adjusting your form to fit its true host and it'll keep doing it until it wastes you away or gets rid of your old incorporeality. You've made quite the big mess for yourself, haven't you? And still all you can do is boil in rage and self-righteous anger. Your rage controls you, you've never been the one in control here. That'll never change, Antisepticeye.

Anti seethes with fury, turning his venom gaze onto you, clutching Trick tighter, tighter, tighter to his chest.

“You don’t want to see that girl ever again,” hisses Anti. “Unless it’s when the two of us go to slaughter her for ever laying a hand on what belongs to me.”

“What belongs to you,” repeats Trick distantly, hiding his face against his neck and humming a song to himself.

“You didn’t like being with her. The sight of her makes your heart race. You’ll feel ill if you see her again. You’ll want to hide and come back to me. You’re terrified she’ll hurt you like the first girl did. You don’t want that. You don’t want to be with anyone anymore. Just stay here with your family, with your brothers, where it’s safe. Where no one can hurt your heart. You won’t go. You won’t want anyone other than me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“In fact,” Anti adds in a snarl, turning back to you, and this, you can hear, is your punishment. “If you ever start to think that anyone is more important to you than me, I’ll take the memory of them from you forever.”

The slightest trepidation interrupts Trick’s daze. You see the flicker of his eyes.

“H… Henrik?” he whispers.

Anti’s possessive grip on him tightens, tightens, tightens.

“Yes,” he whispers. “If you ever break the rules like this again, I will make you forget even Henrik.”

Trick seems to wilt against him, panting softly.

“I have the power. You would forget everything about him. And he would still remember you, but you would only see a stranger. Wouldn’t that be just horrible?”

He nods against Anti’s shoulder.

“Anti, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry, forgive me.”

“Don’t worry, Trick,” Anti whispers, gripping his hair. “I will help you make this right.”

Blue stares up at him from the floor, tears in his eyes. Anti smiles viciously back. His teeth are still red.

Yes. He is in control. No one else. And maybe it feels like the others abandoned him, betrayed him, turned against him, found someone new. But no - no. Soon, soon as Blue can travel, they will go back to Peru.

And then Anti will take his family back again.

No one else will get in the way.

No one else ever could in the past. Kamenye. Brody-Chen. Deshmuhk. Sforza. Every casual hook-up Marvin was sleeping with, every idiot friend or loyal coworker. They don’t even matter now. They’re dead, or gone, or scattered like cowards in hiding across the earth.

Anti looks up Xin Yi’s last name.

Koh. Pretty.

Koh won’t matter either.

“We will make this right,” he repeats.

And he does not notice the fabric fluttering on the hummingbird feeder in his front yard.

A warning sign.

There are consequences to the blood that Anti has shed across the earth.

There are survivors.

Anonymous asked: Tell me you didn't touch Chase's family, Anti. His kids??

Anti smiles down at Trick’s dazed face.

Then he slaps him so hard Trick goes crashing to the earth, a handprint red against his skin, and Blue lets out a scream on his brother’s behalf, crawling forward to snatch him away from Anti.

“Stupid fucker,” growls Anti.

“You’re disgusting!” screams Blue, hiding Trick against his chest. “Hurting other people just so you can feel like you’re in control! It’s pathetic!”

“I am in control!” Anti screams back, jerking forward fast enough to make Blue cry out in fear, grabbing his broken nose. Anti laughs hard, throwing his head back. “I’m the pathetic one? Every one else is like a squirming rat to me! Chase’s fucking kids. You should be grateful I don’t kill children. But it doesn’t matter. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’ll never, ever see them again. Even if he could get free of me, those little brats are so deep in hiding even Red couldn’t hunt them down.”

“He has children?” cries Blue. “You took him from his family? Trick has children?”

“He belongs to me!” screams Anti. “He was always owed to me! The children were more of an accident than I was, and that’s a fucking miracle. Now get in your room before I decide I want to see you eating through a tube for the second time this month!”

Blue grabs Trick and scrambles back towards their room, his brother barely able to cooperate.

“Fucking girl, touching what’s mine!” he hears Anti scream, his body spasming apart into a myriad of violent colors, blood weeping down his chin again, meeting the open wound in his throat. Roots tear at his feet and the candles in the room burn like fire spirits performing a ritual to a war god. “Thieves, everyone, everyone! I hate outsiders, I hate intruders, I hate them! This is our story! The six of us and him! Anyone else is a distraction, an outlier, a mistake. Anyone else who tries to intervene can die like the worms they are.”

Blue drags Trick into his room and collapses, slamming the door shut behind them.

Anonymous asked: Literally- Bitch- Anon said "you let your rage control you" and you /immediately/ let your rage control you. Jesus christ your lack of self awareness is downright hilarious at this point Anti.

Your screen-four camera goes flying across the room the moment the message reaches Anti and crashes into Blue and Trick’s door, shattering your view into static. Blue lets out a little yelp, backing away from the door.

A drawn-out yowl like a tiny tornado siren from behind the mattress indicates Noodle’s terror.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” calls Blue to the cat, panting, pulling Trick into his lap and touching his reddened face. “Oh, Trick, Trick… my love, my amata, my brother… are you alright, my heart, are you okay? Your kitten wants you, yeah? Should I get him for you?”

Trick’s eyes are screwed shut.

He is crying in silence.

“My love,” repeats Blue in a whisper, pressing their foreheads together and gathering him into his arms. “My love. Here I am. Here I am. No one will hurt you now.”

Anonymous asked: It's literally in your own best interest to give Blue's magic back, Anti. It will kill you if you don't. YOU JUST VOMITED UP BLOOD. well, it IS your choice to keep it or not, but you won't have anyone to blame but yourself if it does something irreparable to you.

You can see him from the cameras in the corner of every room.

Panting over the sink.

Face white. Image moving.

“I’m powerful,” he whispers. “I’m more powerful than I’ve ever been. Every day, my control is stronger. At the end of every day, I’m so ill I think I will die, and I bleed and shake and grow ill like men do, b-but… but the rest of the day… my strength, my strength!”

He crumples slightly over the sink, his arms trembling.

“If I could just find a way to be both tangible and incorporeal… there must be a way… there must be a way to fix this yet. And even if I wanted to, even if I wanted to…”

He stands for a long, long time shivering over the sink.

In fact, most of you will have turned your attention away by the time he speaks again.

And even if you have not, he still speaks so quietly as to barely touch the ear - a whisper to make the kitchen a confessional - a secret -

“I don’t,” his bloodied tongue confesses. “Know how.”

Anonymous asked: Stand strong Blue. Defend your baby brother. Even if he does hurt you, at least that'll prick a hole in Trick's current false reality and bring him back to earth a bit.

“Right,” whispers Blue, curled low around Trick’s body. “Yes, I have to look after him. Yes, no matter what. Trick… amata. Fuck, I used to know your name… but it doesn’t matter, I love you.”

He cards his thumb across Trick’s cheeks, brushing tears away. “It’s okay, mo deartháir. Just hold onto me. Oh… well, let me get my oxygen.”

He grabs at his chest for a second, struggling softly, trying to pull in air. Eventually he manages to pull himself across the room and put his cannula back in his nose, taking a deep breath in.

“Blue,” cries Trick softly, clutching at his shirt.

“Trick,” answers Blue, wrapping back around him. “Trick, Trick. Sh, darling, okay. Here, look, your little paper, do you want it?”

He presses the blue crinkle paper into his brother’s palm and Trick wraps his fingers around it, hiding in Blue’s stomach.

“And your cat? Come here, kitty kitty, yes, there’s a good sweet boy.”

He scoops Noodle up and places him on Trick’s chest. He’s a sweet, intelligent cat, and immediately he is banging his little head up against Trick’s chin, mewling for attention. Trick palm closes around his growing golden body. Soft as duck down.

“What happened?” sobs Trick. “I was - I was happy and then so scared and I can’t remember why… Blue, someone’s going to hurt me, don’t let them hurt me! Blue, Blue!”

“No one’s going to hurt you,” swears Blue, pulling him close. They’re warm as space heaters against each other, curled up on the floor together. “It was - Trick, it was Anti, but I won’t let him - ”

“Oh, no,” breathes Trick, looking immediately dazed again, his eyes drooping. “He protects me, he loves me, he would never…”

Distantly, he touches his stinging cheek. Blue pulls the fingers away and leans down to kiss the mark, stroking his fingers through Trick’s hair as he cries soft against his chest.

“I was so happy,” says Trick. “Where did it go? What happened? I can’t remember… I must have really fucked up, Blue, I’m such a screw-up, I ruin everything…”

“I’m so sorry, amata,” whispers Blue. “Oh, no, Trick, not for a moment. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. You didn’t know Xin Yi would be in danger here. You didn’t mean to make Anti angry. You didn’t do anything. You’re so sweet to me, and to him too, even though he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who’s Xin Yi?”

Blue winces, putting his forehead down against Trick’s. “I… I…”

“Is - Blue, is Anti going to make me h-hurt someone?”

“I - I don’t know, Trick. Not if I can help it. We won’t let it happen, okay? We won’t let it happen.”

“Please hold me…”

“Here I am.”

“Blue,” whispers Trick. “I love you more than air. But I want Dok so, so much. Why isn’t he here? Why won’t he come back to me? Doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“He’s just lost, Trick,” Blue answers. “He still loves you so much. Won’t it be nice to see him again after so long?”

“I’ll hug him,” says Trick simply, his breathing beginning to calm a little. “I’ll be able to sleep again, when Dok is… when Dok is…”

His gaze drifts. He’s only allowed to think about Dok for so long. His brain no longer holds on the thought of him for more than a minute, and so, several times a day he feels a great pang of grief, and then a numb confusion as it disappears again.

“Just let me hold on to you,” says Blue. “I got you.”

“You got me,” answers Trick, smiling weakly up at him. “You’re really good to me, Blue. Love you so much.”

“I love you, Trick.”

“Ekk,” says Noodle, licking Trick’s chin. Trick hugs him close and listens to his roar of a purr.

Blue finds Dok’s shirt amid Trick’s nest. He drapes it over them both. Faintly, Trick registers the smell of him. Blue’s fingers soothe his pain and his fear away, moving through his hair and across his back. Blue is holding him. Blue loves him. No matter what. Right now, it’s all that matters.

Anonymous asked: Trick please... You don't have to change yourself or act like someone you're not for the sake of making everyone happy. They love you for you. They love Trick and not... Whoever. Just... Blue please tell him? It would mean a lot more if it came from you. -🦀

Blue softens, staring at you for a second.

Fuck, but he’s glad to have someone on his side.

“You guys and Mr. Noodle here,” he murmurs, curling low over his brother, hugging him close.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I love you just the way you are.”

Trick stares up at him, his eyes wet and his mouth smiling sorrowfully.

“Blue,” he whispers, like a single-syllable song.

“Don’t want you to think you have to change for him,” chokes Blue, kissing his cheek again.

“Who’s him?”

He can’t bear to fight with him about Anti right now. Blue puts his face down against Trick’s shoulder.

It’s Trick’s turn to run his fingers across Blue’s scalp, soothing him even as he continues to cry. Their arms wrap around each other’s shoulders and ribs like a weary twilight Pieta. Blue gives his brother time. He needs it too. A half hour, an hour. Rocking him in his arms and listening to him snuffle and cry and try to figure out what happened, his confused mind making a mess of it and leaving him exhausted in Blue’s arms. Still, he has enough presence of mind to find the most important thing to say, when finally Blue feels his heart slow against his fingertips.

“I love you too,” swears Trick. “Just the way you are.”

“Anti made me the way I am,” says Blue. “And it’s not enough to protect you.”

“It’s always enough,” Trick says, with a reverence like a prayer. “Don’t you know you make me want to love myself?”

Warm hands and bodies pressed close together. The purring of a cat and the brotherhood shared in twin eyes.

Blue knocks their foreheads softly together.

“You and me?” he whispers, settling down against their nest.

“Yes,” says Trick. “No matter what happens. I have you, Blue.”

“Amata,” says Blue, trying to make up for the times Anti has said it with his lying mouth, trying to make up for all the times Anti corrupted this one truth that still remains. “Amata. Amata. Beloved. I love you.”

The sun has come down blue as the felt between the night sky and warm on their shoulders. Trick, Blue realizes, has fallen asleep in his arms.

--------------

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, you should ask the magicians for some candles that you can light on the shabbats! I think finally being allowed/able to practice your culture will really help you on your journey to healing. Remember dayenu, remember the blessings and songs. You're free, dok, you can have more than just Hanukkah now.

You find Henrik sitting in that dusty library basement, surrounded by the tall shelves of the books, flipping wearily through the pages of some stiff yellow tome. He’s surrounded by books, but, for once, all on his own. He no longer feels the need to be lead around or escorted. He knows he’s not a prisoner and, what’s more, he goes where he pleases.

“Ah,” he says, pushing his glasses up on his nose and giving you a small smile. “Well… that’s very nice. And I’d like to do some of that, maybe. I remember my songs and blessings even when I’m with Anti, but I don’t always use them anyhow.”

He sighs and fiddles with the pages of the book. “It is just not that easy as jumping back into it, yeah? Like… fuck, I don’t know. Anti’s not the only thing that’s been stopping me from my practices, I guess. My relationship with my faith is… well, it’s a lot of strings to untangle. I’d like to go back to having a real community, but even if I didn’t feel like I was going back to Anti soon, I’m still not sure I feel like I… I belong, you know, I’m just…”

He trails off, pulling his book closer and shaking his head.

There’s movement on the other side of the library and he blinks, looking around, but he settles back down to his reading.

“Trying to find more info on what Anti is,” he says, changing the subject. “But no real luck. I don’t think he’s anything anyone has ever seen before.”

cest-mellow asked: hey henrik, i’m glad they took you here. it’s very pretty. but, listen, there is a way you can potentially help blue and stop anti. this is gonna sound scary, but emmanuela wants to take a little look inside your head, just to see what antis done, nothing more. she’s very warm, she doesn’t want to cause you or your brothers any sort of harm. she really will help you, and blue, and red and dapper and trick, if you trust her with this. she won’t use any of this against you, it’s only to help.

“Oh, scheisse,” groans Henrik, putting a nail between his teeth. “JP mentioned something like that at dinner. I - oh, get this! They made me eat fucking lamb’s intestines and wouldn’t tell me what it was until I was done, haha. I wanted to be pissed but, okay, listen, lamb’s intestines? Kind of good. I ate… a lot of it, haha.”

He’s a healthier person than when he came here almost two weeks ago, his face flushed with health. He’s been exercising again - turns out he’s something of a runner, which is not something he would have guessed about himself - and he eats three meals a day, every day, and sleeps in every morning.

“Wait until I get them back with something really German, then we’ll see who’s laughing. Oh my gosh, I can still feel how chewy it was! And the kids are so funny, because they will just gobble it down, they just - ”

He pauses and clears his throat. “Sorry, we were talking about Emmanuela. Yes. Um.”

He lets out a deep breath, fidgeting with his book. “I think I trust her. I know the others do and that’s about enough for me. But someone in my head is - that sounds scary, I - I don’t know. I’ve been disillusioned about so many things for so long and I’m still waking up to them. I’m scared she’ll find that there are important things I believe in that are lies too. That maybe everything is a lie. She’ll find something like Trick doesn’t love me without Anti there or Dapper is as bad as Anti or Anti is really… is really…”

He shakes his head slowly, staring down at his books.

“Is really and truly irredeemable. I don’t know that I could bear it…”

There’s movement again, closer to him. He blinks, looking up, shrinking in on himself a little. The lights flicker off on one half of the library and he jolts, staring around him, shadowed half in darkness. Footsteps and he shivers.

“Hermann?” he calls. “Nina?”

No answer from the darkness.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Henrik, maybe you should be on your guard. Where did all the others go?

“I don’t know, just hanging around,” he says, getting to his feet. “I - I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

It’s become something of a mantra for him. He whispers it to himself after nightmares and triggers, hiding away on his own, holding his own arms around his shoulders.

“Maybe I’ll go. It’s getting late anyway. I’m just being paranoid. Nobody can reach me here. Nothing’s going to hurt me.”

“Funny,” answers a voice, and Henrik shudders, backing against the shelves, his breath picking up in his chest.

This voice has the thickest Spanish accent yet, almost too heavy for Henrik to understand. The shaking of the voice - the croaking, rasping, cold hiss of the trembling voice - does not make it any easier.

“Funny,” repeats the Old Man, somewhere close by. Somewhere between the shelves of the placid, dusted old library, half-dark. “Funny, funny. A joke, almost. My son, you know, he think the same thing before your brother kill him.”

A snake longer than Henrik’s entire body comes dripping down the bookshelf in front of him, golden eyes fixed directly on him.

hurricael asked: Hey magicians, do you know if someone giving back magic has ever been recorded? And if so, how? Like, magic that was taken and then given back to that person ((I'm a little timeline-muddled so if this doesn't fit here feel free to ignore it))

“Have you been looking for answers?” asks the Old Man, and Henrik whirls as his voice seems to move, almost like Anti’s does, and Henrik feels his heart constrict. “Have you been looking for salvación for your killer family? For all the different kind of murderer you love? For the one who kill Jose, and the one who kill Christofer when he go to help you, and the one who tortures Genesis?”

Fuck. Henrik closes his eyes tight against the memories. No! He won’t be intimidated by this man. He won’t be cowed. He’s Henrik, Dok, their brother.

“You don’t understand!” he cries. “You don’t understand anything about us.”

“Everybody like to say it’s complicated when bad things happen,” answers the Old Man. “You are here, you talk about religion down here? Talk about going back to being a good Jew? It’s complicated. Nobody understand. You tell yourself. But sometimes? You were just wrong. You were just evil. And not everybody deserves salvación.”

“No,” croaks Henrik. “You can’t just - ”

“If you had wanted answers,” says the Old Man. “I am the one who know every book in this library. Here’s your answer: no, your thieving, blood-thirsty brother can’t give the magic back, or at least that is not in any of the books, in any of the history. Same way your black and white brother can’t undo the scars on Genesis, and your red brother can’t bring my child back from the dead.”

Henrik leaps the snake and races back towards the stairs. His hands are growing wet with - oh, oh, what is this? When did he begin to bleed?

“Hey!” he screams, tumbling against a bookshelf. “What are you doing? Please stop! I’m sorry about your child but I didn’t - ah!”

Blood is running down his cheeks. Down his chest. Down his arms. He screams as cuts appear, painless but weeping, across his skin. Thick, heavy scars in some places, neat little patterns in others. The same scars Anti and Dapper gave Genesis. Henrik can feel the star shape on his cheek. Chain burns redden on his shaking wrists.

“The longer you stay here,” hisses the Old Man. “The more tired I am of excuses for everything your family is done to mine. You are not worth defending if monster comes back. You were not worth Jose and Christofer. You should not be here.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: GENESIS! ANYONE! HENRIK IS IN DANGER!

Genesis gets the notification on her phone, turning you on to let you see her splayed out on her bed, eating crackers.

“What?” she says through a half-full mouth, and then the message kind of registers, and she’s scrambling to her feet, spilling crumbs everywhere. “What? Where is he? Anti can’t have gotten in here. Emmanuela!”

She races out of her room, tearing open the door to Henrik’s room, but he isn’t inside.

Anonymous asked: Genesis, the Old Man is attacking henrik, isn’t there any way for you guys to stop him??

“Motherfucker!” shouts Genesis, even louder than she called for Emmanuela, tearing down towards the stairs. “He would not! He did not! Emmanuela will eviscerate him!”

“Genesis? What’s going on?” calls one of the three children, poking their heads out of the dining room.

“Go get everyone for me, now! It’s an emergency. The Old Man’s lost it. I shouldn’t have left the medico alone!”

She’s charging down the stairs already. “Henrik!” she shouts. “It’s okay, I’m coming! It’s not real, medico!”

Henrik can’t hear her. He’s curled up in a ball, clutching at his head, your camera abandoned beside him.

“Do you remember me?” asks a voice you haven’t heard in weeks, and the heavy boots of the enormous magician who had tried to carry Trick back to the car to be with Henrik appear in your vision. Christofer leans down over Henrik and blood comes pulsing from his throat, a great dog’s-teeth wound tearing his neck into bloody shreds. “Do you remember I tried to help you?”

“Stop!” he screams. “Please, no!”

There’s another body behind him a moment later. You’ve never seen this magician before, but you know who he is. He holds the great black book that Anti stole and used to take Marvin’s magic. Red killed him.

“Is it easy?” says Jose. “To pretend all the people you hurt are just side characters, nameless, forgotten the moment you put a blade in them? How many people have you killed, medico? How many of their names do you remember now? All of them had people who loved them.”

“I never wanted to!” screams Henrik.

“But that isn’t quite true now, is it?” sneers Jose’s image, and Henrik can hear himself laughing wildly, crazed, can hear the horrible squealch of his scalpel impaling a body again and again, cackling and babbling in German, and Anti cooing in his ear:

“There’s my good Doktor. There’s my little torturer. Now, at last you can admit it - you never became a doctor to heal anybody. You always wanted to feel what it would be like to kill someone and hold their heart in your hands.”

Henrik sobs and wraps his arms around himself. “Trick!” he screams. “Trick, please!”

Anonymous asked: It’s an old man, talking about how red killed his child. They’re in the library and he’s freaking Henrik out!

Genesis bounds down the stairs and finds Henrik shaking at the bottom, curled into a ball, holding his head and babbling.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t mean to. Let me go back to Trick. I did what you asked. Let me go back to Trick. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good!”

She falls to her knees beside him and cups his face in her hands, shushing him lowly, looking over him for injuries, but, while Henrik’s camera shows you rivulets of blood and bodies standing over him and the great long body of a constrictor snake creeping along the floor towards him, there is nothing in Genesis’s phone camera except Henrik himself, whole and unharmed, rocking on the floor.

“I’ll make him stop, I’ll make him stop, it’s just an illusion,” she reassures him, leaping back to her feet. “Viejo, paras! I’ll go get him, medico, stay here!”

Almost as soon as she’s rushing down the library shelves to find the Old Man, Hermann is crashing down the stairs to fall at Henrik’s side, taking his hands in his own, his eyes looking wildly around.

Anonymous asked: There's a reason we've done away with 'an-eye-for-an-eye' punishments. It's not as simple as your family hurt mine so I get to hurt yours back. We judge based on individual actions and we learn and grow and forgive if we choose to. I get that you're mourning your family's losses, but hurting Henrik won't take away your hurt. You're just putting more hurt into the world.

“They’re right, so cut it the fuck out!” screams Genesis, rounding the corner of the bookshelves, and there, at last, you see the Old Man.

His dry mouth is twisted into a terrible snarl.

The wrinkles around his eyes are soaked in tears.

He cries in silence, glaring at nothing, his eyes glowing faintly gold from the magic he’s using on Henrik.

“Viejo,” calls Genesis, her eyes softening, though her mouth is still taut with anger for her friend. “Stop. Stop. Jose wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“It does not matter,” he mumbles in Spanish, tears splashing onto the floor. “He is not here and never will be again.”

Anonymous asked: Question old man: who the hell are you HELPING by doing this? You passed-on family is gone, and the ones who are still here are trying to help this guy sure himself out and stop a demon so he can't hurt anyone else. You're directly impeding progress on that front. You're certainly not helping yourself by debasing any trust your living family has in you.

“You can kick me out after this if you please,” he tells Genesis, slumping back in his chair, his hand limp on the table before him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

She comes to stand beside him, her eyes flickering. After a moment, she puts her hand down on his shoulder.

He reaches up and traces the scars that Anti left her, his eyes clouded with both age and misery.

“Stop,” she says. “Please, I’m asking you. Jose was not the only one who loves you. I’m ashamed of you now. Stop, for my sake. For Jose’s memory.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, but at her request, the glow in his eyes fades away.

Henrik chokes and slackens across the floor as the hallucinations fade away, still shuddering. Hermann is murmuring reassurances to him, trying to get him back to his feet. It’s best to get him out of the library before anything else happens.

Genesis and the Old Man are still together in the darkness. He stares down at the wood of the table and closes his weeping eyes.

bupine asked: old man, these men have been through so much pain. i understand you have too. but wishing more pain on them does nothing. it doesn't help you feel better, i'm sure, and it won't reverse any scars or bring any person back from the dead. i am so sorry about your son. anti has done a lot of terrible things, and his brothers have too, as a result. but they're hypnotized, they have no choice. save your rage for someone who truly deserves it.

“The medico is a good man,” whispers Genesis, leaning down to touch his hand. “You would know that if you had given him a chance.”

The Old Man shakes his head slowly, slowly.

“I mean it. He’s like me, viejo. He’s like Jose was too. How many of us have come here because people hurt us and set us down paths we never meant to go down? This is supposed to be a place to have some peace. To find yourself. Why would you do that to him? He was hypnotized. He was lost.”

The Old Man just shakes his head. Eyes still closed. “No. Hypnosis only goes so far. Maybe the demon killed Christofer. But Jose was killed by one of the servants. And he should have fought. He should have fought it. I don’t care how hard it would have been. He gave himself up to the demon and Jose died for it. If that red man ever comes near this place, I’ll show him what it feels like to watch the people you love most die around you. I’ll shatter his mind til he’s in pieces and you can call it an act of mercy, then, because the demon won’t use his hands for murder after that.”

“Stop,” snarls Genesis, shaking her head. “You stop. Don’t you dare threaten any one of them. I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed.”

Anonymous asked: Why did you do that? Did you hope to gain something from torturing him?

“He plans to go back to the monster,” says the Old Man. “He still loves his brothers. Maybe he should have a chance to see them for what they really are. Maybe he should see himself for what he really is. Not one monster. Six.”

Genesis draws away from him, mouth pursed. She doesn’t know what to do. She’ll leave it to Emmanuela to decide what to do with him. Her hand falls away from his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Sir, I’m sorry that you lost your child and I can’t begin to understand how that might feel, but taking it out on Henrik will not bring him back. Henrik was brainwashed and manipulated to do what he was told by the demon he was with, and he didn’t even kill him. Your child’s blood is on the demon’s hands, not his.

Genesis draws away from him. Doesn’t have the energy or time to comfort him while Henrik’s in pain and it’s his fault. She moves back towards the stairs, leaving the Old Man behind in the darkness.

“Wasn’t the demon’s hands either,” you hear the Old Man whisper, quiet as Genesis moves away from him. “I was the one who sent him to fetch the book. My son…”

If you were seated back at the table with him for a moment, you might have seen one more illusion, one more of his magic tricks - a young man sitting there beside him, healthy and strong and beautiful, smiling at him and reaching out to hold his hand. But no matter how long the image sits so lovingly beside him, the warmth of his fingers and the touch of his skin would never come down on their father’s palm again.

Anonymous asked: You underestimate the demon’s power. They did fight, and they’re still fighting, every single minute of every single day. Some days are harder than others, scarier than other, and sometimes they have to do things that aren’t too pretty to survive. They have known nothing else but survival and their abuser. I respect the place that your opinion comes from, but it is also one of misguided anger and it is beyond wrong to trigger a victim because you are hurt. It is not your place to pass judgement.

“Come on,” murmurs Genesis, carrying you up the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time with him. If he doesn’t see that now, words won’t make him see it. He’s in a great deal of pain. Fuck, I knew he had objected to letting the medico wander free, but I never thought…”

She shakes her head, hustling up the stairs, where she finds a panicked JP waiting for the elevator.

“Genesis! What’s going on?”

“Old Man gave Henrik Nightmares. Maybe you shouldn’t bother him right now, JP.”

“He did not.”

“He did. Come on, I can hear him crying out. I need to check he’s okay.”

JP grabs his wheels and hurries after her.

“Where’s Nina?”

“Lying down. Baby’s really hurting her.”

“Damn baby,” mumbles Genesis, and despite the situation JP snorts out a laugh, running his hands through his hair. “Hermann? Where are you?”

“We’re in Emmanuela’s office,” Hermann calls back.

Henrik grabbed you at some point and you’re clutched tight in his shaking hands, listening to him wheezing and choking out terrified German. Hermann is kneeling close beside him and Emmanuela is sitting on his left, her eyes faintly gold, trying to pull him out of the last of the illusions.

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to! Red didn’t mean to, he didn’t want to hurt them, he didn’t want to hurt us, he just - he- I didn’t!”

“Hey, you’re safe,” Hermann whispers, squeezing his hands. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

“I want Trick! Trick! Please, where is he?”

“I don’t know, amigo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

spicydanhowell asked: if you wanna comfort henrik, try rubbing his back or his head. his twin used to do that a lot

“Can I touch you?” asks Hermann.

Henrik is already gripping at his hands, disoriented and lost and afraid. “Trick?” he sobs.

“It’s Hermann, medico. It’s okay.”

“I want my brother,” he chokes. “I want - I want Anti.”

There’s a slight shift in all the magicians around him, glances exchanged and mouths twisted. Emmanuela gets to her feet and begins ushering people out of the room. “Give him some space.” The children race off, followed by a more reluctant JP and Genesis. Emmanuela sits down at her desk to give him room, and Hermann shifts closer to Henrik. He reaches up to touch the back of his head and, when Henrik only falters into it, he strokes gently at his hair, still clutching his free hand.

“I’m sorry he did that to you,” says Hermann. “I meant to protect you. I’m sorry.”

“No, he was right,” sobs Henrik, clutching at his face. “I’m a murderer and a sadist, I always have been, I love the sight of blood, just a freak… my brothers have all killed people, except maybe Blue, and we do it all just because Anti tells us to, and do you know what the worst part is?”

“Medico, Henrik, sh, sh…”

“I still love him,” cries Henrik, feeling something snapping inside his chest. “I still love him! He is my brother! I know he is a monster and I still want him! The Old Man was right. I’m just a monster too, wanting to be with him, wanting to be his.”

He crumples across Hermann’s shoulders, tumbling against his chest, and Hermann just reaches out to hold him, stroking slowly at his hair.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hen.... it's okay. Yes you might have done wrong in the past, but that does NOT make you a monster. You will wee Trick soon, okay?

“I need to go back to him,” Henrik is sobbing, gripping at Hermann’s shoulders. “No, I mean it! I’ve been thinking it this whole time, I - I can’t - I’m not ready to leave Anti, or at least not leave Trick and my brothers with him.”

“Medico,” says Emmanuela.

“No, I mean it,” he repeats. “I meant to tell you - you, mostly - ” He casts you a red-eyed glance, hiccuping. “I plan to go back to Anti. I do. I’m not - I’d like to stay. I would. But I can’t leave Trick and Blue behind, or the others. I have to be there to look after them. That’s my job. I’m planning to go back to Anti. I am. You shouldn’t try to stop me.”

Emmanuela sits back in her chair, sighing. Hermann gives her a desperate glance, but she’s turned away from him.

“You can’t do that,” whispers Hermann, gripping Henrik’s head tighter. “You have to stay safe.”

“I know there’s nothing selfish about staying away from someone who’s treated you poorly. But I still… I still need to be with Anti. I feel his presence clawing at me. He’s so deep inside my head. And what’s more, I want to be with him. I can’t just give up on him, or on the others. They must be suffering so much. I have to look after Blue and protect Trick as he comes down from what Anti’s putting him through. Besides, I’ll only bring Anti here if I continue to hide. It was never feasible, me staying here. I need to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Anti. I want to go back to Trick.”

“This is horrible,” says Hermann, shaking his head. “No.”

“He’ll make his own choice,” says Emmanuela softly.

It would not be the first time she’s let people go, no matter how unwise it seemed.

“He’s an adult and a free man. He’ll make his own choice. But first he must let me make sure he sees as clearly as he can.”

She turns and levels her gaze at Henrik. He swallows shakily and stares back.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, no, it's okay. You're okay. He had such a powerful hold, it's completely understandable to still be affected by it. He changed you, and you're doing a wonderful job recovering. And remember, Henrik, he messed with your head, and if the core that's you got shaken up by it, that's okay, he meant it to do that. You're okay, buddy.

“How much of who I am is him messing with my head?” whispers Henrik, burying his face in his hands. “How much of who I am is really me and how much is him? How much of him is really a monster and how much was real in the times when he made me think he loved me? How much of any of us is real? Are we just puppets? Was the person I was anything like this at all?”

Hermann looks helplessly over at Emmanuela, who, at this point, is mostly looking sad for him. Henrik hides from her pity and pretends the warmth against him is Trick’s.

“Can I see?” she asks.

“Inside my head?”

“Yes.”

“Could you if I said no?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t.”

Henrik stares down at the floor, exhausted, his heart still pounding so hard it hurts. He chokes on a sob and tears come drizzling down his face. What a mess he is. What a mess he’s always been, long as he can remember.

“Can you help me get my memories back?” he asks in a croak.

“Maybe,” she says. “It depends on the way the monster took them.”

He looks up at her, startled.

“What, really?”

“No clue til I try.”

Hermann is rubbing soothingly at his knee. Henrik glances over at him, meeting the calm trust in his eyes. Henrik looks up at you, nervous.

“Okay,” he says softly, clutching you to his chest. “But if you try anything, they’ll tell me!”

Emmanuela chuckles, soft and low.

Hermann leaves them alone in the room. Henrik feels awkward staring up at her, and a little afraid.

“What is this going to answer for me?” he asks in a croak.

“Well,” says Emmanuela. “How much of his control was ever voluntary for you. How he got in your head, which might, in turn let us know how to get him out. How real some of the things you’ve believed are. What happened to your memories - locked away in your brain or just destroyed.”

Henrik laughs and tugs on his hair, shaking his head slowly. “Well, fuck,” he says. “That might be too many answers.”

“Just take it easy,” she says. “Close your eyes.”

“I feel very stupid,” he admits.

She laughs without mocking him. He closes his eyes.

Here are some things that are true.

Henrik von Schneeplestein did not for a moment choose Anti. He did not agree. He was not convinced. Even more so than Blue, he was shoved down this rabbit hole; he was broken in half and then rebuilt. The remnant of that time makes old scars tingle along his body, burns and cuts and bones ever-so-slightly out of place. Anti told him he didn’t know how he got them. Probably from the old master, he said. Probably from that old and painful life. Briefly, Henrik feels the ghost of a memory, staring across at Trick before he was Trick, the two of them whispering encouragement as the days went by, until at last Henrik shattered, and Trick fell down with him.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti falsified all of it in the beginning. The feeling of fondness towards him. The feeling of safety. The lie of the danger outside. There was no one coming for them, except old friends who missed them, or at least what few of their old friends who remained alive. Henrik had people he loved and he forgot them. Henrik loved Jameson and Jackie and Marvin and he forgot that too. Things changed as time went on. Dok loved Anti. Dok loves Anti.

Anti has, at moments - at small, fleeting moments, loved him too. Earnestly and truly. There is a bullet scar in Dok’s side that will never go away, but the only reason he survived it at all was because of the great black dog that guarded him from their enemies. The great black dog that took bullet after bullet for him, and saw a dozen possible futures at Dapper’s hands, and chose the one where Doktor did not die. There were moments where he would look over at him and think, at least, ‘he is something worth loving.’

Selfish love, sometimes, but at moments, present.

For the most part, however, Anti has not loved him, not slightly, not well, not enough, and that was a choice he made. Killing Henrik was an act of revenge, and from there, Dok has been tortured again and again by the hatred of the monster he came to call his brother, and it isn’t fair, and it wasn’t loving, and the brotherhood between them is, if real, a terrible, terrible curse to him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

Here are some things that are true.

Anti is jealous and Henrik’s memories are gone, permanently. Not locked away. Not hidden. Destroyed. Powerful magic. Powerful theft. Henrik will never remember that old life. Only glimpses of it, ghosts of it. Emmanuela searches and Henrik sees distant things - a house in the middle of the forest. The disappearance of a little brother. The flight from home. His brothers around him. Chase. But these are empty gaps where memories once were, not things recalled.

Here is one thing that is true.

“He’s entangled himself completely in your family,” says Emmanuela. “In your mind.”

Dok loves Anti. Henrik loves Anti. He does, he does. Despite everything. Despite the false foundation.

“He made it seem real,” she says. “Because the family between the rest of you was real. As time went on, you lost the ability to distinguish between the intruder and the reality. And he just became another brother. Flawed, maybe, but so were all of you. A bad temper, you said. You couldn’t see that he wasn’t real. Because if he wasn’t, than what does that make the rest of it? False as well? You knew it like this: ‘I love Trick and Trick loves me, truly and fully. Anti gave Trick to me. Anti must love us too, truly and fully, or wouldn’t that mean Trick didn’t love me too?’“

Henrik tries to breathe, burying his face in his hands. He did not feel her in his head, but he felt the remnants of so many things he’s forgotten or tried to forget. Grief and anger and hurt and pain and happy things, too, but less of them, not as many as there should have been.

“He is a talented manipulator,” she says. “More powerful and skilled than anyone I’ve ever come into contact with. I don’t know - Henrik, I’m sorry - I don’t know how you’ll convince yourself fully that he really is as bad as all that. No matter what I show you, no matter how much time you have, he will still be buried in there by virtue of his power. This web - I don’t know how to break it. You love your brothers and your brothers love you. Anti is caught up in the middle of that, hiding in the subconscious, unable to be ratted out without ratting the real love out too. It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you’re just wrong about him,” Henrik sobs. “You have to be, if he seems so real!”

“Henrik… this is what I mean. No matter how much you cling to him, you know, logically, what’s real. You saw him hurt your magician that night. He could have killed him. You’ve seen him lock your little brother away in his room for months on end. You’ve seen him twist the others into things they never wanted to be. You’ve been hurt by him yourself, medico. You know. You know.”

“But I still love him,” says Henrik.

“Yes,” says Emmanuela, very soft. “That’s a normal part of abuse, but… I don’t think that this will go away normally.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” says Henrik.

He tries to breathe. He’s got this. He’s fine. He’s a motherfucking certified genius, he can figure this shit out.

“Here are my options,” he says. “One - I run away and I stay gone and not only does Anti hunt me for the rest of my life, but I’ll always feel attached to him as long as I’m attached to the others, who, as far as I will know, will continue to be tortured by Anti.”

Emmanuela just watches him. She will let him make his own choices.

“Or, two - I find a way to disentangle Anti from my family. Not just my image of my family, but the whole of my family. Realizing, logically, that he is a horrible son of a bitch has so far proved useless. I still know that I love the others, and they love Anti, or at least some of them do, and as long as that’s true, he’ll always be buried in there somewhere. I can’t escape him alone. None of us can. So to get away from him, I’d have to - ”

He stops short, staring at the wall.

Looking up at last.

“We’re… all going to have to turn on him together,” he says. “Aren’t we?”

Emmanuela looks at him. She has endless eyes. Her dark hair gleams.

“Yes,” she says. “I think so.”

He sits back on his chair. Staring at that wall. Stained glass windows at the side of it. Letting in the light, but letting it in blood red.

“Impossible,” he says. “Impossible.”

“No,” she says, reaching out to touch his hand. “It isn’t. It’s just a fight, Henrik. And you’re going to have to fight it. With them. Not alone anymore. With your brothers. Stop watching each other get hurt and stand together. Find your family again. The real one. You don’t have to surrender.”

Blood red streaks across him. Light and color and the blank face of the wall. The closed door waiting to be opened.

“I need to see Anti again,” he says, very soft.

“To fight?” she asks. “Or to give up?”

He doesn’t answer.

She leans back in her desk, her eyes faintly gold.

“I’ll make preparations for if you choose to leave,” she says. “I’ll give you weapons. Protection. Anything I can. It’s your choice, Henrik.”

He walks back to his room alone, and sits on the bed, and stares at the wall.

Here is a truth, a great truth, greater than anything else that he knows, great enough, he thinks, perhaps, to fight for:

He wants to be free, and bring his family with him.

But it will not be easy.

------------------

aether-mae asked: Hen, when Anti comes, I want you to keep this time in mind. Keep in mind how you are safe and happy with the magicians, and remind yourself you are bringing this contentment to trick. Bring trick away from Anti so he can enjoy this with you.

You can find him in the sunlight.

They’re playing a partnered card game that involves slapping your hand down on the cards faster than everyone else, coming up with secret signals to communicate, and a lot of wild giggling, especially from JP and Nina, losing it on his right side. He’s sitting down against the wall with one arm around her shoulders and one arm around her rounded belly and their black hair is glowing in the light. Henrik tugs you closer to him at the beeping, but he’s distracted by the chattering of Genesis and Hermann and Basilio, who is eagerly perched in Henrik’s lap, trying to slap the cards every single time a new one falls.

“You have to wait for a sandwich of cards,” laughs Henrik, dragging his little hand back again. “Like, maybe an eight and then something else and then another eight. A sandwich.”

“Que?”

“You have to - haha, you’ll learn, you’ll figure it out.”

Basilio slaps the cards again and Henrik breaks down into laughter.

Loud laughter. Loud, deep from the bottom of his chest. His head falls back and his eyes squint up and his shoulders shake with it.

And he catches your message out of the corner of his eye, and pauses to read it, and fuck, fuck.

He has to fight, doesn’t he?

He has to fight for Trick to have this.

If he’s going back -

The sun is golden on him. His skin fits him right. There is a child laughing on his lap and friends around him.

If he’s going back, he’s going back to fight.

He has to bring this joy back to his brothers.

He strokes Basilio’s dark hair and -

“Sandwich!”

- slaps the cards.

“Henrik,” groans a chorus of accented voices at him as he collects the cards he’s won, and he’s laughing again, and he’s warm, and Hermann’s hand comes down on his own just for a moment as if to say, ‘yes, brother, here we are.’

Anonymous asked: I don't think you need to figure out exactly who you were under his control, because I think the lines were blurred enough that we might never quite know. People do things they wouldn't usually to survive, and to protect themselves, and I do not think you can be faulted for things he made you do. And as you begin to come back, we can begin to figure out who you are now.

They devolve into sitting around and kicking a football around eventually, Henrik sitting on the sidelines and drinking beer with JP as Genesis and Hermann play monkey in the middle with Basilio.

“It’s kind of frightening,” he tells you, though he says it calmly. “Knowing that I have to find myself again. Knowing that I will never be that same person I was. But I think I want it. I think that’s something I want to stand up for. For my chance to be Henrik, and not just here, sheltered away from him. For my chance to be Henrik again in all things.”

“That’s the good part about it,” says Nina, turning to smile at him. “You go through so much you don’t know how to get back that person that you used to be, but then… then you get to choose the person you become. And that person becomes someone who is a survivor despite everything. A fighter despite everything. You choose strength and it shapes you.”

She smiles softly at the brick beneath her feet, turning her head to gaze at her husband, stroking her hand along her belly.

“Every day,” she says, touching Henrik’s shoulder. “We’re choosing. It’s okay to make new choices. Okay to be a different person. Every day a new person. I think that’s what’s really beautiful about being a person at all.”

aether-mae asked: Henrik! My lovely fellow. Red and Dap are on their way to you, without Anti and with no intention to return to Anti (as of yet). Is there any way you know of that could bring you to them faster or would you like to wait for them?

“What’s this? Red?”

“Hermann!”

Emmanuela’s coming up the stairs, beckoning for him. He hurries over to her and they exchange a few soft words. She presses something into his hands and leaves again.

Hermann stares down at it for a second. Holds it in his hands.

“Henrik,” he calls, trying to steady his voice, turning back towards him with a smile, holding a phone. “It’s for you.”

“It’s what?” Henrik gets onto his feet. Hermann just holds the phone out to him.

Henrik puts it to his ear.

Soft breathing, shy and nervous. Soft mumbling in the background. Soft shuffling and a deep breath.

“Dok?”

Henrik’s heart is a bird uncaged.

“Red! Oh, oh, I - I - is it you, is it? Bruder, is est du? How, how, Red, Red, I - ”

Red is stammering and babbling and stumbling just as much as he is on the other end of the line, his voice hoarse and shaking.

“We used the cameras, Max sent his phone number to them - I didn’t think it would work, thought it was a trick, fuck, Dok, is it you?”

“It’s me, it’s me! Red! I didn’t know if you were alright, I didn’t know if you were in prison… tell me something only you would know!”

“I - I, um. For Christmas this year, Trick got you coffee.”

Henrik bursts into laughter without knowing why, gripping his hair. “Red, Red!”

“Dap’s here too - he says your favorite book is the Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder and he loves you and he says you better believe it’s him, he loves you, he loves you - ”

“Oh, my little brother, is he well? Put him on the phone, I need to - no, wait - ”

It’s Red’s turn to laugh, and then they’re just having a breakdown together two countries away, listening to each other’s voices, chattering everything that comes to mind, and Henrik can hear Dapper clicking and striking his hands together at Red’s side.

“Dok, we want to come get you.”

“You want to come get me?”

“Yes. Yeah. We’ve got a car. We’re headed your way. Dok, I have to see you again. I can’t take all of us being separated anymore. I don’t know how we would have survived without the help we found.”

“Well, that I understand,” chokes out Henrik, gripping that phone like it’s keeping his head above water. “Red, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes. Come get me. I need to see you. My brothers. I love you.”

He didn’t mean to make Red’s voice shake even harder. He thinks he hears tears in his eyes. His strong older brother crying just for him.

“Where can I find you, Deutsch?”

“The market,” Henrik answers immediately. “Where we bought coffee and polar bear shirts and dog tags and rings. Red. Bruder, hermano, my friend. Come get me.”

--------------

Anonymous asked: Hold on just a while longer Blue- No, not blue, Marvin. Hold on just a little while longer. The missing brothers are free. I don't think anything anti does could convince them to come back to him at this point. Anti has enemies that will take him down in this weak state. Almost there you strong, wonderful magician. Protect Chase, protect yourself, I can't make promises but I feel the end to your pain is on the horizon. Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle. Rage against the dying of the light.

He sleeps every night now with his arms wrapped tight around Trickshot. They tangle up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

The end of your pain is on the horizon.

He curls his body around Trick’s. As if he can protect him. At the least, he has to try. His fingers stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. Trick squirms closer to him in his sleep, mumbling and throwing his arms around him, entangling their legs. Noodle readjusts to sit nearly on his face.

They would not begrudge you the quick look in on them as they slept. You are, after all, a beacon of safety - for Trick, a sign that Anti watches over him; for Blue, a steady ally against everything that hurts him. A friend.

It is late, though. How long will you watch him? How many of you are looking on? Everything is still. Have you often peered at the silence of them? At the little moments, where nothing exists but the hand of their brother clasped in their own? Loyal watcher. You see things they do not always see. It is late, though. Will you go to sleep? Who taught you to watch so vigilantly? You remember the things the rest of the world has forgotten - glitches and Silent Nights and white string and comas. You remember things that never happened, because Jameson undid them.

The watchful few. The handful of you. It is late, though. Will you sleep?

Movement in their window.

A shadow, at first. Pausing. Casting a low shade of darkness over what little light comes in through their window.

The shadow shifts.

Closer.

And then there is a silhouette in their window. The silhouette of a person.

They do not know you’re there. They do not know you see.

They come close to the window. Cast that black and impenetrable shadow down over Trick and Blue, asleep on their mattress. The perfect outline of a person looking down at them. For a moment, they only stare down at them. Unmoving. Cold.

They move away again. You think they wear a cape. No. You think they have the wings of a bird. In the moonlight, a flicker of gold.

Trick and Blue sleep. Tangled up in blankets and brothers’ shirts and the tube for his oxygen.

Loyal watcher. It is late, though.

How long will you watch?

How long will the shadow?

End Section Nine of Chapter Three: The Separated Twins

[rainbirdsky]

Characters and abilities

Hey there, who wants to read the headcanons for my characters in the story I will likely never ever write? This is not to describe the physical appearance of these characters, this is to share their abilities/weaknesses.

Rainbird - MC. Spirit. 9 Stars. Being dead they have no light to steal and are immune to Red/Kwan’s staff. Wields umbrella like a blunt sword. Opens and closes umbrella quickly to dazzle and distract Dark Creatures away from Sky Kids. Dark Creatures will realise they’re being deceived if this is used too much in quick succession. Rainbird cannot leave the Hidden Forest without an escort (usually Reef). If Rainbird lets go of Reef’s/an escorts’ hand for longer than 10min outside Hidden Forest they will ‘reset’. They first get cramps, then after another minute they will double over and become paralysed. If paralysed for more than 30 seconds they will have a breakdown (much like a panic attack) and start to fade/return to Hidden Forest. Holding an escorts’ hand or physical contact/friendship emotes (hug/high-five/head-pat etc) resets the 10min timer but will not help if Rainbird has already become paralysed.

Reef - Rainbird’s dearest friend. 5 stars. Can expend a cape charge to heal in an AOE radius. If she recharges 3 or more Sky Kids she will regain the cape charge without cost. Cannot heal when on two or fewer charges. Slow but accurate flyer. Has a huge network of friends due to her adopting so many when they were moths. Reef’s healing AOE can bring Rainbird back even from the paralysis stage of reset, and is the only known thing that can heal Rainbird at that stage. Bringing Rainbird back from paralysis always costs one charge, even if Reef heals 3 or more Sky Kids.

Candle - Reef’s girlfriend. 10 stars. Has greater physical strength than the average Sky Kid and each flap of her wings gives her greater lift (1.5x normal). Can expend a cape charge to create an updraft/zephyr that others can use to gain height in the air (up to 20ft). Zephyr lasts up to 10 seconds, depending on surrounding wind currents (stronger currents = less zephyr duration). Those within the zephyr when it fades may be flung in a random direction, but more accomplished flyers can easily right themselves. Less accomplished flyers may have to flap/expend a charge to reorient. 

Vulture - One of Candle’s veteran friends. 11 stars. He moves with a fluid grace and is very capable in hand-to-hand combat. Very accomplished flyer.

Vision - Vulture’s boyfriend. 4 stars. Wears yellow cape and looks a lot like a moth. Can expend a cape charge to create a blinding flash to blind others for 3-5 seconds, but draws aggro/becomes a prime target to Dark Creatures. Works best in tag-team with Vulture who can quickly whisk him away from a threat.

Hotteok - Candle’s friend and ‘sibling’ of the antagonist. 7 stars. Short wings allow them to ‘hover’ or glide so slowly they seem to hang in the air for up to 5 seconds. Can expend a cape charge to create a wave of heat that will light candles in an AOE or cause small amounts of damage to dark creatures. Heatwave has a 3m/10ft radius. Heat wave may cause smaller Dark Creatures (crabs) to flinch but may enrage larger Dark Creatures (krill). Enraged Dark Creatures have a greater aggro radius and move more erratically. 

Haneul - Hotteok’s deceased sibling, killed by antagonist. 3 stars (died young). Had a musical long call that could charm Dark Creatures for the duration of the song. Charmed creatures were still hostile, but they were slower to attack.

Red/formally Kwan - Antagonist, sibling of Hotteok and Haneul. Up to 11 stars. Has a broken Firework Staff that, instead of drawing light from him to create fireworks, he can use to drain the light from Sky Kids and Creatures of Light. He does not register as a being of light to Dark Creatures and is not targeted by them since he began using the Staff. Red’s cape is constantly slowly losing charge (at about 1/10th the rate of standing in the rain) and he needs to drain creatures of light frequently to not go out entirely. If any part of a Sky Kid/Creature of Light touches any part of the staff they instantly lose the equivalent of one star/charge and lose a star per second of continued contact. Red has ‘leashed’ the staff to himself with a red ribbon that ties it to his right hand/wrist so he cannot be easily disarmed. 

This is my cast so far, though this list is incomplete. Hopefully I’ve not made anyone too OP. The idea is that while each ability may be useful alone, together they will make a more formidable team.

Hope you enjoyed it, sorry it got so long!

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, Jenna, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Alecto Carrow (FC: Victoria Pedretti). Jenna!!! Wow, so excited that you’re picking up Alecto! She’s such a badass and I can’t wait to see her on the dash. Your biography of Alecto really draws out this character that’s so often one dimensional in this world. I think she’s going to add a lot of conflict to the gorup in the best way possible. EEp I’m PUMPED! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — jenna age — 20 pronouns — she/her timezone — gmt+10

IC Overview

name — alecto carrow age — 25 gender — cis female sexuality — bisexual patronus — non-corporeal, but it would take the form of a vulture. boggart — her brother lies dead at her feet, her parents standing above him, somehow more vicious looking than they are in reality. “it’s your fault,” they sneer, as alecto notices the blood on her hands.

IC In Depth

personality traits — ( + ) dedicated - though she may be dedicated to the wrong people and causes, Alecto is dedicated. If she decides she wants something, she will go after it with everything she had, and she won’t rest until whatever she wants is hers. Maybe it comes from the deep sense of entitlement she’s been raised with, or her insatiable need to be acknowledged and appreciated. ( + ) headstrong - Alecto has her opinions, and she won’t be swayed on them. She also will make them known, loudly, and publicly. She’s not a complete idiot, and has learnt to kept some of her more… unsavoury opinions under wraps since the end of the war, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still believe them. ( + ) loyal - Though Alecto rarely gets close to people, those she decides she trusts have her undivided loyalty, especially to her brother. She also has a strong loyalty to the Dark Lord, still trying to find a way to bring him back even years after his defeat. ( - ) ruthless - This goes hand in hand with her dedication, Alecto will stop at nothing to get what she wants, including hurting ( or even killing ) people to get her way. ( - ) brash - She can be incredibly rude, overbearing, and obnoxious. She asserts herself over everyone and anything she believes to be beneath her, and often comes across quite poorly. ( - ) vicious - Alecto is a shark raised by sharks, you don’t grow up how she did without earning teeth of your own.

character biography —

Alecto Carrow was not a wanted child, this much has always been abundantly clear.

The marriage of Alecto’s parents was not one born of love or affection, but of duty. They both hailed from affluence, highly-regarded pureblooded families, and shared values typical of such a background. The sole purpose of their marriage was to produce an heir and perpetuate their bloodlines, nothing more, and nothing less. Only a year after their marriage, they had succeeded in this endeavour with the birth of their son, Amycus. He was exactly what they had wanted in a child; he was the perfect pureblood heir. Unfortunately, he would not be the only child the couple would sire.

Alecto was not expected. The exact nature of her conception remains elusive to this day. Some speculate that Alecto came into existence one night after her parents had a little too much to drink at one of their parties, falling into bed together before they could think about the consequences of what they were doing. They never wanted a second child, let alone a daughter, but, nine months later, they were one again at St Mungo’s awaiting Alecto’s arrival. Unlike her brother, Alecto was born screaming, demanding attention from the very moment her lungs were able to draw breath, turning her face red and angry with the effort of it. Maybe that’s where they got her name from – unceasing anger. She didn’t stop crying for almost a full day.

She was brought home from the hospital the next day and instantly thrust into the arms of awaiting nannies. To the Carrows, children weren’t something that required a lot of hands-on attention, they weren’t something to be cared for or raised carefully. They existed solely to preserve their legacy, and as long as they were capable of that, the rest of the day-to-day maintenance could be seen to by household staff. Alecto’s father had a job at the Ministry which kept him exceptionally busy, and her mother never worked, instead spending her days out fraternising with her peers and climbing up the social ladders of pureblood society. They paid little attention to Alecto, leaving her mostly neglected in her nursery, save for curious visits from her older brother, wanting to catch a glimpse of his new sibling.

The Carrow household was cruel and cold, and with their parents rarely around, Amycus and Alecto came to rely on one another. During her childhood, Alecto’s only solace was in her relationship with Amycus, despite both of them inheriting many of their parents’ less desirable qualities, the siblings had a close bond. They genuinely cared for each other, though they often had strange ways of showing it. There were few people who could truly understand the childhood that Alecto had experienced, and fewer still who could understand Alecto, but her brother has always been the closest. Alecto idolised her brother, she wanted to be just like him, and she his was the only direction she would follow without question.

Lessons for Amycus and Alecto began very early in life. Lessons on what to say, when to say it, and who to say it to. They were trained to hate anything that was different to them – and hate, Alecto would. Perhaps, had she been raised differently, she would have become a far more kind and empathetic soul, but, then again, this is perhaps a slight exaggeration. Something inside of her may have been broken from the beginning – she accepted the hate-filled ideas her parents presented her with. She accepted the prejudices, the fact that she was simply better than everyone else. That, because of the blood that ran through her veins, she deserved to have the world grovelling at her feet.

While Alecto took to her lessons of cruelty and superiority like a moth to a flame, there were other lessons she didn’t take quite so well to. For the most part, Amycus and Alecto were raised identically, but, as they grew a little older, their paths started to diverge. Amycus was the male heir, he was trained to carry the Carrow name with pride, while Alecto was taught to rid herself of it as soon as possible. Her parents intended for her to marry a nice young man ( preferably one from the shortlist of candidates they’d had picked since her birth ) as soon as she was of age – Alecto herself had different ideas.

The two years between Amycus leaving for Hogwarts and Alecto doing the same were two of the loneliest of her life. She became aware of how quiet their house was, without her brother in it. Her parents ignored her even further when Amycus wasn’t around, when she wasn’t sticking to him like gum to the bottom of a shoe. She tried her hardest to please them, but eventually realised that doing exactly what they wanted wasn’t working. So, like many neglected children, Alecto reached the conclusion that negative attention was better than no attention at all. She had always tried to tone down aspects of her personality to appease her parents, but Alecto wasn’t the porcelain doll they always wanted.

She was sent off to Hogwarts at eleven, and it was a breath of fresh air. She was sorted into Slytherin, like her brother before her, and quickly established herself within the cohort with her good looks and her strong opinions. It certainly helped her that she bore the same last name as her brother, who had already amassed a number of allies in the Slytherin dorms, simply adding his sister to his posse once she arrived. She was loud and unapologetic and gained herself a rather unsavoury reputation – but people couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. Much like at home, much of the attention was negative, but it was attention, and she would take it.

Though she always had a certain charm, a magnetism to her, Alecto never really played well with others. Her parents wanted her to be beautiful, charismatic, but submissive – capable of pleasing the sons of their friends. Submissive was the real problem. Even during her childhood, Alecto had cunning and ambition to rival the greatest of Slytherins, she was callous and brash. She met any attempts at courting from young men with a sneer, as she matured, she decided she found far greater pleasure from the physical relationship than an emotional one. Alecto was not at all like what her parents expected her to be in this regard, and they never made their displeasure a secret.

The war was something Alecto had always been ready for. Her parents had believed it was inevitable, that they would need to fight to rid the world of muggles and muggleborns once and for all, to ensure that only purebloods remained. They trained their children to believe the same. Alecto knew that she would one day need to fight, that she would be thrust into war. Her father insisted on special training to ensure she would be of use to their master – dark magic was something she became intimately familiar with when she came home for summers during her school years, training to withstand the cruciatus curse, to counter dark spells, to wield them herself.

While rumours of war that swirled around during her final years of Hogwarts set most people on edge, they simply invigorated Alecto. Amycus had already graduated, he was already doing his part, and Alecto desperately wanted to do the same. Though she had given up on winning the affections of her parents a long time ago, she wanted to please the Dark Lord, she wanted Amycus to be proud of her, and she wanted to do what she believed was the right thing. She grinned with maniacal glee as she received the dark mark – and if she saw her parents smile as she did so, she never mentioned the fact.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was losing. At the tender age of twenty, Alecto had never really known what it was to lose. On October 31st, 1981, she found out – and she didn’t like it. Nobody had anticipated that the Dark Lord would fall, least of all Alecto. Her parents immediately went into damage control, trying desperately to restore their name before the hammer fell. Their children wouldn’t be so lucky. It had been Amycus who suggested that only one of them needed to go to Azkaban – Alecto had first imagined it would be her, but Amycus took the fall for the both of them, accepting his sentence and insisting that Alecto keep herself out of it, to keep serving their master while he was away.

Not only had everything Alecto ever believed fallen apart, she’d lost her brother and her best friend, and, if his life sentence was to believed, she might not ever see him again.

Alecto had still been living with her parents at the time, but when she returned home after Amycus’ trial alone, she endured a wrath she could have only imagined up until that moment. It didn’t matter that it had been Amycus’ idea for her to walk free – they were furious that their male heir was to go away while they were given Alecto as, what? A consolation prize? Though she was fairly certain they’d calm down eventually, Alecto took the first opportunity she could to leave her parents’ house and get out on her own. She managed to secure herself a position at the Ministry, and has been doing her best to provide for herself in the years since her brother’s arrest. She may not be living the life they imagined for her, and they may vocalise their displeasure whenever she sees them, but it simply spurs Alecto on.

Alecto believes that the Lark Lord will return one day, and she intends to be the one to bring him back. She has been searching far and wide for any trace of her father, detailing her expedition in her letters to her brother. Of course, she has no idea where to begin. Her ‘search’ is more of a vague exploration, hoping against hope that she will stumble upon something. She’s trying to prove to herself, to her brother, to her parents, and to her peers, that Amycus made the right decision – that she’s better off on the outside, that by avoiding arrest, she can make use of herself and help bring back the Dark Lord. To Alecto, it’s almost like a race, and she thinks she’s vicious and scrappy enough to do what it takes.

She just hopes Amycus really did make the right decision.

plot ideas —

Amycus | Honestly, her relationship with her brother is probably the closest thing that Alecto has to a healthy relationship, and that’s saying a lot. The pair are still deeply dysfunctional - Alecto craves the validation she never received from her parents from her brother, and would literally follow him into hell. Letting him be imprisoned after the war was something that was incredibly difficult for her, so I’d love to explore how she’s been coping without her big brother’s guidance. She’s managed to get herself a fairly decent job and an apartment on her own.. did she ever really need him in the first place? I’d also love to see Amycus as a playable character in the future ( perhaps Alecto could even be involved in his breakout from Azkaban… hint hint ), to explore their dynamic properly, as well as how it has changed in the years they’ve been separated. Death Eaters | Alecto is on a quest to bring back Voldemort, and this probably isn’t a secret to anyone who she believes to be sympathetic to her cause. Of course, she doesn’t want any help because she wants the entirety of the credit for herself, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t curious about what exactly she’s doing ( please can somebody call her out on her stunning lack of progress? ). I’d also like to see her interact with some of the less loyal Death Eaters. She’s big on dedication and loyalty, and if she feels that there’s traitors in their midst, Alecto will not hesitate to make this known… or exploit it for her own gain. Ministry | Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s not so stupid as to go around telling everyone that she’s an active supporter of You-Know-Who, but for anyone who was part of the Order ( or with any common sense ), it’s not hard to figure out where her loyalties lie – her brother is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, and her parents are active pureblood supremacists. I’d like to see her trying to keep up appearances at the Ministry, interacting with former Order members or even muggleborns… how much will it take for her to crack?

extra —

mock blog / pinterest / playlist

extras that didn’t fit in the bio:

Parents. Alecto’s relationship with her parents has always been strained, however, over the last few years it has become even more so. They have made little secret of the fact that they would prefer Alecto be rotting in Azkaban than Amycus. Alecto doesn’t see them very often, and when she does, they’re trying to pressure her to marry a nice pureblood man before they’re all gone, or making her feel even worse about Amycus’ imprisonment. She still has a great deal of respect for her parents, but she knows they’ll never have a great relationship.

Residence. Alecto lives in a small apartment not far from Diagon Alley. It’s quite lavish, more than she should be able to afford with her salary, but she had considerable financial assistance when buying it… her parents couldn’t have her living on the street, could they?

Occupation. Alecto works as an Obliviator for the Ministry. She’s always been quite skilled with charms ( though she usually uses her skills for evil rather than good ), and her father had always told her that having a job at the Ministry was a good position to be in ( well, he’d said her husband should have a job at the Ministry, close enough ). She doesn’t enjoy having to interact with muggles… but she does enjoy robbing them of their memories.

Romance. Alecto isn’t one for commitment, but she learnt young that her looks were a powerful weapon, and one she wields expertly. She likes to toy with people, and she’s not fussed about anything so trivial as gender ( blood status is the only thing that matters to her ). She’s never considered herself bisexual, much less put a public label on it, but if she gave it any thought, that’s probably the conclusion she’d arrive at. She’s never told her parents about her relationships with women, and has no intention to.

[manstar]

📂📂 [Because something tells me this is gonna be rather amusing. lol]

send “ 📂  “ for a completely random and useless headcanon // accepting.

ONE. -- The summer after Ted officially declared Syl the official Starman, he spent most of his free time in his lab drawing up designs for the Cosmic Rod’s new staff body. With the windows open, he listened to all the critters and all the noise of a lazy summer day.

The combination of the shining sun and the noise of animals had him realising how he wanted the staff to be able to express itself. Though in the beginning of their attunement the rod had only responded to him when he called for it, the more they spent time together and adapted to each other, the more he realised that the staff was responding to a lot more than just Syl’s commands.

Pat didn’t believe him when he said he was certain the staff was developing a mind and personality of its own, but he created a means for it to communicate in his staff design, anyway. Thus the cosmic energy collected in the staff can travel along it in different light frequencies to portray its emotions, and its chirring, warbling sounds are created by mechanisms Syl made to emulate a “digital” summer critter.

TWO. -- Syl changed the Cosmic Staff substantially, but it changed him, too. Wielding that much cosmic energy and being around it with as much frequency and intensity as he is has irradiated his body and changed his physical make-up so he can attune to the staff, too.

His vision can handle brighter lights. His body can withstand higher atmospheric pressures. And, perhaps most noticeably, his temperature runs much warmer than a regular human’s.

In the same way the staff collects energy from the stars, that energy is absorbed by Syl’s body and runs throughout him until it’s exhausted, too. Though he definitely still needs sustenance in form of food, drink, and sleep, now that the staff’s mutated him enough that he’s a pseudo-solar battery, the cosmic energy he collects when he wields the staff has made him require less of it. It’s also made his base temperature much warmer, which allows him not only to withstand cooler temperatures (especially given he’s often in the stratosphere during flight), but also be the perfect foil for his archnemesis, Icicle.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Of Blood and Roses

Chapter Eighteen

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki x Lauren  |  Word Count: 5957 Warnings: Loki being Loki, smexy, a little fluff

Loki waited until Lauren slept deeply before whispering the words which would keep her sleeping, safe and warm, protected in their bed beneath the Gledeblomstring. He carefully slipped out from beneath her, leaving a pillow in his place so she could have something to cuddle until he returned. He watched her snuggle deeper as he dressed.

Her beauty continued to steal his breath. Her mass of gold and platinum hair. Her softly bronzed skin. She’d been milk pale before their trip to her home and the day spent by the river. Then a light colour had formed, but now as she moved closer to being Asgardian, her flesh had taken on a tone which almost seemed to glimmer. Shimmering as if she’d been brushed with gold dust over all that creamy flesh.

It made him yearn to touch her, almost as if she beckoned him to see if she was real or a creature out of his imagination who would disappear if he tried. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Each day he woke beside her was a gift, a lovely dream he had to pinch himself to be sure was real.

Tonight, though, she would sleep alone. At least for a few hours. 

Socks gave a quiet mew, drawing Loki's attention. He stooped to pick the kitten up when Socks rubbed against Loki's ankle and set him gently on the bed. Socks picked his way toward the pillow Lauren hugged and settled down upon it, almost as if he were keeping watch. When the kitten's eyes swept his way, Loki wondered if that wasn't precisely what Socks was doing.

He gave the feline a nod and left, quietly shutting their bedroom doors behind him. The wards he placed on the room and the door were the strongest he knew, ones which would keep even the strongest of magicks or physical strength at bay while informing him of the attempted intrusion.

Once finished, he flicked his hand and opened a portal that led him to the back of Tara’s shop. It snapped closed, submerging him in shadow and silence.

The magic he worked tonight was heavy. Dark. Forbidden for all but the most accomplished. It was a spell he’d worked only once before with terrible consequences. But he’d been younger then. Less than he was now. Mother would not have scolded him for trying it again. Not when the attack had come against his Ástvinur.

A scrape of a boot had him spinning around, dagger and staff at the ready.

“Easy, brother,” Thor murmured.

“Thor. You're lucky I didn't eviscerate you.” Loki put his weapons away.

“I thought you might return tonight to see what you could coax to reveal itself.”

“With one of my tricks right?” Loki turned away.

“Loki.”

Thor sounded contrite, but Loki wasn't in a forgiving mood. “Stay back and stay silent. The last time I attempted this, I blew up mother's parlour.”

“Should you be doing it at all?” Thor asked, his voice an octave higher.

“I'm no longer a boy of no skill. Watch and learn, brother.” The dagger from earlier appeared in one hand, the cloak in the other. Green light slowly began to brighten the shadows until both he and Thor appeared cast in grisly fashion when new shadows formed on them from Loki’s magic glow.

The incantation he whispered as he brought the cloak and the dagger together. “Show me your shadows. Show me the way. Reveal to me the truth. The darkness of lies is my keeping place. No secrets can remain hidden from me.”

The cloak lifted from his hand to hang in the air as if it wrapped around a body. The dagger burned blue then pure white, the light so bright it was suddenly day again at the back of Tara’s store.

Loki stepped closer to the hooded spectre. “Reveal yourself to me.”

The figure turned into the light, glancing over his shoulder before he pushed the cloak from his body and let it fall. He ran down the side alley, and Loki followed, the dagger continuing to light the way. The assailant slowed and walked into the street where he moved around to the front of the shop with the rest of the gathering crowd and waited.

“He was right here this whole time?” Thor growled.

“Yes.” Loki continued to study his new found prey. “He should have run.”

“Loki…”

“You will not stop me. An inch more and he would have hit Lauren. I brought her here for protection, believing she would be safe. Instead, she is assaulted, slighted, and forced to contend with my mistakes. I will remove this threat from her life. She need never know how it was done.”

“You would lie to your Ástvinur?”

“Never. But he will vanish. As Lauren met him only the once, why would she ever ask me about him? If she did, I would tell her the truth. Stabio threw the dagger. Likely it was the whipping he took which threw off his aim. I will not wait till he heals to try again.”

“There are other ways, brother.”

He shot Thor a condescending glare and snuffed out the magic, plunging them into shadows. “It is my right. He was warned. Would you rather I had him thrown in the dungeons where he is fed and clothed? Awaiting a trial which will see him thrown back in the dungeon to live out his days? I won't waste the coin it takes to feed him, nor would I allow Lauren to see such mockery take place.”

“Loki.” Thor grabbed his arm. “Think of Stabino. You may despise the son, but I know you respected his father. Our father has already sent to him of this crime with Sleipner’s children.”

“You grow soft in the head, Thor. Stabio has shamed his father. This will further that shame and pile on dishonour from which the family will not recover. Isn’t it better Stabino never finds out about this? Let him believe Stabio ran to hide his shame.”

Thor sighed heavily but eventually nodded. “Perhaps you're right. Perhaps the secret should die with Stabio.”

Loki nodded and sauntered away. “Are you coming to watch, brother?”

“Norns, no!” Thor muttered but walked along at Loki's side. “I'll be available should you need help with the body.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Your assistance to hide something of mine has not been needed since I broke mother's lamp.”

“She blamed me for that lamp,” Thor grumbled.

“I know,” Loki smirked. “Thank you for the assistance.”

***

Stabio hissed as he peeled the protective cloth from his back to expose the five deep lash marks. They looked like a giant cat had raked him diagonally from shoulder to hip.

The second and third were the deepest. Both had split the skin. The guard had taken extra pleasure in holding him down and laying the switch into his flesh, but then Ymir had been the one to wield the lash.

Ymir had never forgiven Stabio for the slight he’d paid Ymir’s sister. The man had made sure to bring the switch down with force and precision.

Five blows. One for each mark he’d left on the princess. “Bitch,” he grumbled. “Stupid woman.”

What right did she have to tell him how to do his job? He’d been watching his father coddle the beasts for years and get nowhere. A firm hand was needed. He’d been intent on proving his theory when she had interfered.

Snøwstrom had been a menace for years. Taking up space. Refusing to work under saddle. He was a waste of good horse flesh, but if Stabio could break him, well. He would be a greater trainer than his father ever was.

He’d bullied Baron into helping, knowing the boy would be unable to refuse and would have succeeded in breaking the stallion if she had stayed out of it. But no.

Lady Lauren walks in, and everyone is bowing and scraping. Even the damn horse.

In one fell swoop, he’d lost his livelihood, his prestige, and his home for his quarters were above the stables. Now he was forced to room in a low-end inn, fit for foreign merchants with no coin as he figured out his next move. Only a narrow bed and desk with a mirror hanging above it and a hard-backed wooden chair before it furnished the room with its minuscule attached bath. It was degrading living in such squalor, but he needed to save what funds he had. He needed out of the city. Possibly even off-world after trying to hurt the bitch who’d destroyed his life hell.

He hadn’t meant to do it, but when he'd watched her walk into the toy store, laughing and happy, something inside him snapped. Following her inside, he hadn't planned on throwing the blade, but it was in his hand and sailing through the air a moment later. He’d know instantly it was a stupid idea. Then it went through Loki's hand, and he’d run for his life, leaving his cloak behind so as not to stand out in the crowd.

So far, no one knew who had dared try to assault Loki's Ástvinur, but everyone was atwitter with speculation. Thankfully, he’d rented his room under a false name.

Tonight he’d shaved his face, removing the thick beard he was so well known for. He didn't want to be recognized or noticed. He just wanted out of the city and knew he couldn't go home. His father treated the beasts in the barns better than Stabino had treated his own children. There would be no comfort or understanding from his father. No hope of receiving help from that quarter.

He had money. Not much but some. The position had paid handsomely, but he’d also liked to play hard and hadn't been stingy about spending his newfound wealth. He had a few friends he could turn to, but they were nose deep in Thor’s ass.

Stabio highly doubted any would be inclined to help him get off world. He would have to find passage on a ship and do it soon before anyone figured out he'd been responsible for the attack on Loki's woman.

Staring at the mirror, contemplating his options, Stabio shivered. “Why's it so bloody cold in here?” And dark. When had it gotten so dark? Had the overhead light always been so dim?

In the mirror, the room behind him was black as pitch. It seemed a hole from which any dark demon could emerge. He wanted to turn around and peer into that void. Search it. Save himself from whatever dire fate waited for him in that darkness.

His heart pounded. He sat locked in place by the fear tripping his heart to gallop. He wanted to look, but he didn’t. He was too afraid to take his eyes from the mirror and the light reflecting from the single candle on the desk to turn around and possibly come face to face with some hideous creature.

Then within the blackness, something moved. A shadow shifted within the shadows. The cold seemed to freeze Stabio right to his bones, and his breath puffed out in a cloud of white.

Movement on the mirror caught his attention. Ice was forming. Crystalline patterns which climbed the edges in small curls and jagged runs, oddly beautiful even as terror filled him.

Stabio returned his gaze to the center of the mirror and cried out in fear when the image reflected had him clenching his muscles to keep his bowels where they belonged. He spun around to face the dark, sending the fire of pain screaming through his spine when he broke open his lash marks only to find no one there.

The hair on his neck rose. The feeling of something watching him grew stronger and stronger until he turned slowly to face the mirror and swallowed when Loki remained hovering in the glass, shadows pulling at his clothing. He appeared half corporeal. The horns which usually adorned his helmet seemed to curl straight out of his wild mane of black locks. When the shadows shifted, Stabio whimpered. They were of bone and gleamed like polished ebony when the candlelight caught them, almost as if the horn absorbed the ray into its inky depths.

Eyes of blood red filled with hatred and loathing observed Stabio like he was an insect Loki was contemplating the best way to eradicate. The shadows peeled back further until Stabio could see the blue tinge creeping along Loki’s skin. He watched the marks and lines of a Frost Giant take over, revealing the real face of the second prince of Asgard.

The candle’s flame shrank as the cold deepened. Sharpened. Became harsher.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” Loki asked softly. “That you could attempt to injure my Ástvinur, and I wouldn’t use every speck of magic at my disposal to find out who had dared attempt such an act?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Stabio whispered, afraid to take his eyes from the mirror a second time.

Fingers of brilliant blue reached out of the darkness. Came closer and closer. Appeared to unfurl into long, spindly, double jointed appendages which couldn’t, in reality, belong to the man behind him. They looked otherworldly hovered over Stabio’s naked shoulder, hanging there in the dark as if waiting for some sign, some movement, which would see him snatched into the endless void reflected in the mirror. He could feel the unrelenting cold seep from them; feel the frost lift the hair on his body.

“I don’t even know why I did it,” Stabio pleaded.

“Don’t you?” Loki murmured. “Jealousy. Anger. Hatred.”

Stabio cringed when Loki moved faster than his eyes could follow and slammed a dagger, wicked looking, the metal a shiny blue encased in gold, into the surface of the desk. The other hand continued to hover over his shoulder, but this new one tightly gripped the black handle of the blade when Loki leaned closer, ducked his head, and inhaled like an animal an inch above Stabio’s skin along his shoulder to his throat. Those red eyes never once lost their connection with Stabio’s, making the experience all the more terrifying.

Loki turned his mouth to Stabio’s ear and whispered, “I can smell them on you.”

The hovering hand finally descended to skim tapered blue fingers over his flesh. The cold burned straight through to Stabio’s bones, and he screamed in agony when his skin blackened and froze.

“They tried to hurt my Lauren on Midgard,” Loki murmured, pulling his hands away while leaving the dagger behind, tip embedded in the desk. “I brought her here because I believed she’d be safe.”

Stabio watched Loki through tears of pain and fear as Loki faded back into the shadows, seeming to flicker in and out of focus in the mirror. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re only sorry you got caught!” Loki snapped, sending a lash of ice up Stabio’s spine.  

Agony had him arching, his breath frozen and unable to pass his lips open in a silent scream.

“Asgard was meant to be safe for her. She’s an Ástvinur! Sacred! Blessed! Beloved by the Norns! She should have been safe here!” Loki raged.

Stabio cowered away from him, eyeing the dagger Loki had left behind. Could he? Did he dare? A glance at the mirror showed him Loki pacing on the edge of the shadows. They reached out for him. Curled around him. Appeared to welcome him into their depths.

“She wasn’t safe on Midgard. Oh, no. I felt her pain. Her terror. I swore I would never let it happen again. Asgard would be safe. Asgard would welcome her. Asgard would love her. Then… you happened.” Red eyes glowed and locked with Stabio’s again. “Be thankful your aim was so poor. The last person who injured my beloved suffered a most… exquisitely painful death.”

He smiled, and Stabio shook in terror. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave Asgard. I won’t ever look her way again.”

Loki’s smile twisted. “No, you won’t.”

Stabio lunged for the dagger. It vanished before he could place a hand on it, and crashed to the ground in his exuberance. He laid there in pain, desperately trying to think of a way out of this.

“I knew you were a fool. I didn’t expect you to be stupid,” Loki growled.

“Please,” Stabio begged, his terror erupting in tears. “Please, I’ll go. You don’t have to kill me.”

Loki flicked his fingers and torches burst into flame, revealing the cave of ice and snow. The desk, candle, and mirror faded away like ghosts of a memory long forgotten.

Stabio curled over his knees, his forehead nearly touching the snow-covered ground. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

“What do you have to live for?” Loki asked. He fluffed a large fur cloak out around him as he sat on a throne of ice and crossed one leg over the other.

“What?” Stabio murmured.

“What do you have to live for? You lie. Cheat. Steal. People dislike you. You’re considered cruel and unreasonable. You’ve shamed and dishonoured your family. You’re a terrible person who tried to injure the sweetest, most gentle, kindest woman Asgard will ever know. Name some quality of yours which would grant you redemption in my eyes, and I will let you live, open a portal, and drop you on a world far from here.”

“I…” Stabio wracked his brain. What could he say? What quality would so redeem him he could escape his death? “For all my failings, my father still loves me.”

Loki paused, his fingers tapping the arm of ice beneath them. “Such is the way of fathers,” he said softly. “They have faith in their sons, even when it is undeserved. I am doing yours a favour. He will never know of this second dishonour brought upon your family by your hand. The manner of your disappearance remains, still, in question.”

“People can change,” Stabio pleaded. “You did!”

“Did I?” Loki smirked. “Are you so sure? Perhaps I’ve simply learned to hide my wicked ways.”

“No.” Stabio pushed up, so he sat on his knees, the ice so cold and hard beneath him. “You’ve changed. Everyone’s seen it.”

The tapping of those long fingers never changed. Loki just stared unblinkingly at Stabio before he stood in a swift, graceful motion. The blue of his skin warmed into flesh. The horns disappeared in a puff of smoke. Eyes of red returned to blue but burned swiftly into green when Loki cast his hand out at the wall and tore a hole through space. “Go. Leave Asgard and never return. Never speak of the life you lived here. You were never Stabio, son of Stabino. You had nothing to do with Sleipnir's children. Your life before this never existed. Any thoughts of retribution against my woman end here and now. Swear it.”

“I swear it!” Stabio nodded.

Loki stepped closer, his hand glowed green, and a small black serpent appeared in his palm. Before Stabio could move or ask questions, the snake launched itself from Loki’s hand to his chest and struck hard and fast, burrowing its way beneath his skin.

Stabio shrieked and scratched at his chest, trying to rip the creature away, but it was already beneath his flesh, wriggling and moving toward his heart. “What is that? What did you do!?”

“It’s a guarantee you will keep your word. If you so much as breathe about Asgard, me, Lauren, any of us, if you so much as think about plotting against us, my pet will pump your heart so full of venom you will be dead before you hit the ground.”

He could feel the blood rush out of his head, then flow back in so swiftly it made him dizzy. “I won’t say anything.”

“I know you won’t.” Loki waved his hand.

Stabio startled when the clothing settled around his body, and a pack landed at his feet. “Prince?”

“I’m giving you a chance, Stabio, because your father is a good man and believed in you once. Because you are correct in thinking people can change. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

The light in the cavern was fading, the torches going out one by one, leaving two lit to either side of the portal. “Where… where am I going?”

“A world which welcomes immigrants. One on which a person can disappear and become someone else. It will not be easy. They frown upon liars and cheats, but a man who is looking to make a new, honest start will be welcome.”

Loki was being swallowed by shadows, becoming harder and harder to see. “Prince Loki.” Stabio swallowed thickly as he stooped slowly to pick up the pack, his back surprisingly less painful than it had been. “Thank you. If you should see my father, tell him…  tell him I’m sorry. Tell him… I left to do better.”

There was no acknowledgement of his request, but some of the biting cold lessened as he made his way toward the portal and looked at the world of desert dunes and hazy rust coloured sky. In the distance, a city of stones and mudbrick rose above the dunes. It certainly wasn’t Asgard in all its shining glory, but it also wasn’t a grave.

As he stepped through the opening and walked toward his future, Stabio didn’t look back when the portal closed behind him.

***

Thor gripped Loki’s shoulder far tighter than necessary when the illusion of the ice cave vanished, and that of the modest inn returned. “Mother would be so proud of you.”

“I sat there and asked him all those questions and felt them resonate inside myself. Why am I worthy of a second chance? What makes one person worthy and another not?” He shook his head. “Lauren’s compassion is wearing off,” Loki muttered, uncertain whether to be pleased or annoyed. “Still. She's protected from him in the future. We all are.”

“Yes, she is, and now you have nothing to hide from her,” Thor beamed. “And here I was, planning not to watch. That was quite the bit of theatre you put on. Even I shivered at the horns.”

Loki rolled his eyes and shifted them to the road outside the inn, leaving a small pouch of coin behind to cover the expense of Stabio’s stay in case he hadn't paid in advance. “I wasn’t going to hide anything.”

Thor snorted. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Loki.”

“Self-righteous prick,” Loki grumbled.

“Cold-blooded ingrate.”

“Rock headed moron.”

“Bilgesnipe.”

“Ignoramus.”

“I am Groot.”

“Thor!” Loki gasped. “That’s going too far!”

Thor burst out laughing. “I only said Strange is a better sorcerer than you.”

“I’m fully aware of what you said! Take it back!”

“And if I won’t?” Thor smirked.

Loki flicked a finger and opened a portal back to the palace. “I won’t tell you what Lady Sif had to say after your encounter on the terrace.”

Thor lunged, but Loki was prepared, having already replaced himself with an illusion which Thor tumbled straight through. “Will you never stop falling for that?” Standing within the entrance to the portal, he chuckled while Thor picked himself off the ground.

“I take it back,” Thor muttered. “What… what did Sif say?”

Loki took a teasing step back. “I don’t know, brother. That didn’t sound very apologetic to me.”

“Loki,” Thor said, turning to face him. “Please.”

Thor’s appearance had Loki moving toward him, the portal dismissed and closed. “Brother?”

“I have been… most foolish,” Thor sighed. “Mother tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. She said allowing my other gifts to rule me would return to bite me in the ass. It appears she was correct.”

“I will admit you could have been far more discreet in your assignations, but what happened in the past cannot now be undone.” Loki clasped his hands behind his back and continued toward the palace as Thor fell in beside him. “Sif knows the hurt and even slight jealousy she feels is misplaced. It isn’t as if you knew she had certain feelings involved you kept stomping on.”

Thor flinched.

“At least this time you managed to tell her she was beautiful, though you did almost screw it up first.”

“How do you know what was said?” Thor frowned.

“What can I say? Sif tells Lauren. Lauren tells me.” Loki waved a dismissive hand.

“Ah,” the big blond nodded. “And what did Sif have to say?”

“She’s nervous,” Loki admitted. “She’s afraid you will see her as another conquest to be made and sent on her way when you grow tired of her company. If that were the case, she would leave. For good.”

“Her heart is so fully invested?” Thor smirked.

“The longings of Sif’s heart are not for me to discern, brother,” Loki snapped, “but this is not some game! Sif has been a true friend to Lauren, and while we may have once been unable to stand each other, Sif and I have reached a place of mutual respect and understanding. I would name her a friend, and I caution you, brother. Hurt her, and you will feel my wrath.”

Thor appeared momentarily startled by such a statement, then contrite. “Forgive me if I sounded… insincere, Loki. It is just…” he sighed and closed his eyes, letting the moons shine down on his face for a moment before speaking. “You weren’t wrong in your assumption of earlier. I have denied my feelings for Sif for a very long time. The trysts I’ve enjoyed were mostly to take my mind off her until there was Jane. Then the ones after were to help clear Jane from my head. Seeing Sif tonight,” he cleared his throat, “dinner was very uncomfortable.”

Pink flushed Thor’s cheeks and set Loki grinning. “Freya’s tits! Did the God of Fertility lose control of his cock at the sight of our dear Sif?”

“I will punch you so hard, Loki,” Thor snarled.

Loki burst out laughing. “You did!”

“Shut up!”

Thor swung, but Loki only sidestepped him. “Oh, dear! How randy of you, brother to be returned to the state of a lad in his first crush!”

“If you’re only going to laugh and be snide I will leave you here and return to the palace my way!” Thor barked.

Loki snickered but held up his hands. “Forgive me, Thor, but it is amusing.”

“You can’t tell me seeing your wife in some of the things she wears doesn’t tighten your trousers,” Thor grumbled.

“Oh, certainly. But then I pin her to the wall and touch every inch of her delectable body. I’m afraid you’re nowhere near enjoying that pleasure.”

Silence hung between them for a few minutes as they walked on together.

“Is it hopeless?” Thor murmured.

“Nothing is ever hopeless. Something's simply take time, effort, and patience. Sif made the first overture. You, brother, must decide if you will make the second.”

“And what is the second, oh wise one,” he grumbled.

“You have to choose. Do you want Sif? And if you do, in what capacity? Are you ready to commit? Seek a relationship which could end with her your queen? Or is all you feel for her the desire to slake your lust? Then, and only then, will you know what to do.”

“I would have had Jane if she’d been at all inclined,” Thor murmured. “I loved her.”

“Did you?” Loki asked quietly. “Or did you like the idea of her? The way she looked at you? The way she was always slightly awed by you?”

“You speak nonsense,” he huffed and stopped to lean against the railing of the bridge where the group of them had played Lauren’s game.

“Do I?” Loki leaned there as well, bent over his forearms, looking out at the water and the stars beyond the horizon. He was silent for a moment, wondering if he should speak of what Lauren had revealed to him what seemed so long ago but had only been a few short days. It appeared he was inclined to assist Thor after all.

“The day I gave Lauren the Brúðr Steinn, when we confessed our mutual feelings, not once did she mention my being a God or of Asgard as part of the reason she loved me. She admired me because she thought I was brave for returning to Earth, facing the ridicule and distrust. She admired how I could stay poised in the face of their, understandable, anger and act as if their words weren’t painful when truthfully I found it all… intolerable.” He smiled at the memory and shook his head. “She called me a good man, Thor. Me. A good man. Not a God. Not an Asgardian. Not a Jotun. Just a good man. She didn’t love me for my differences, though I freely admit my magic enchants her. She loved me because to her I am a good man first and foremost. Can you say the same? Can you say your Jane didn’t feel a little excited by the fact she was with the God of Thunder? The King of Asgard?”

Thor sighed but shook his head. “No. No, I can’t say that.”

“Do you honestly think Jane would have been happy here?”

“No. I knew she wouldn’t. It was one of the reasons I let her go.”

“For all Lauren’s misgivings, I could close my eyes and see her here. I could see the utter joy she would take in being of Asgard. And though she worries about what being princess means, she’s taken to it like a dream. She’s perfect at it. She belongs here.”

“That she does,” Thor smiled. “She will be a wonder.”

“Yes, she will.”

“I see what you’re getting at, Loki. If I were to pursue Sif seriously, it would be a match which would suit my position.”

“Yes, she would be a suitable match. Sif is well aware of what it would mean to become your wife. Whether that is her intended goal, I can’t say,” because he didn’t want to, “but she would make a Queen fit to fill the void mother left. A warrior queen is one the people can look to with pride. But do not make this decision purely based on her ability to fill the space at your side. Neither of you will be happy if that is your intended goal. Pursue her if she makes your heart flutter when she smiles. If her absence makes it ache. If something amazes or amuses you and your first thought is to tell her about it. If the love you hold for her in your heart is so big, it often feels as if you will burst simply trying to contain it.”

“You’ve become quite the romantic, brother,” Thor snickered.

Loki threw him a wry grin. “And if she makes your cock sit up and beg, of course.”

“Bah!” Thor shoved him, making Loki stumble. “I should tell your wife you speak so candidly of cocks.”

“Who do you think taught me?” he asked innocently, grinning when Thor gaped at him. “Lauren is a feisty woman.”

“Please stop speaking of my sister that way,” Thor muttered, face twisting. “What deviant, kinky things the two of you get up to are none of my business.”

Loki chuckled as he sauntered on over the bridge. “I will say she quite likes the alcoves with the heavy curtains. Yes, yes she does.”

“Dammit, Loki!”

Loki only smiled.

***

He snuck into their chambers like a thief in the night and removed the protections he’d placed on the doors. Slipping into their bedroom, he found Socks awake, tail twitching impatiently as if to say, What took you so long? Loki only shrugged, shed his clothing with a thought, and climbed into bed where he plucked the kitten from the pillow and used magic to trade places with it, happy to be back to cuddling his wife as the kitten returned to the tower near the window.

Lauren stirred, sighed, and blinked open her eyes. “Time’s it?”

“Early, or late depending on your preference,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep, my heart.”

She took a deep breath and wiggled closer until he could feel the heat from between her legs against his hip. “Did you find what you were lookin’ for?”

Loki smirked and shook his head. “Why would you ask that?” She should have stayed asleep with the small spell he'd worked, but that she'd notice his absence didn't surprise him.

“You left,” she murmured and wriggled a little more until she was mostly laying on top of him.

“Are you sure? Perhaps you only dreamed I left.” The temptation of her skin was far too great for him to resist, and Loki stroked his hands down her back.

“A pillow doesn’t have a heartbeat, Loki. You gonna tell me where you went? Or am I gonna have to entice it out of you?” She pushed up, letting the silk and furs slide down to reveal her body, cast in the light from the fire when she straddled him fully.

“That’s,” he swallowed to wet his dry mouth, “effective. I went to see if I could ascertain who had thrown the dagger.”

She was in the process of drawing her hands up toward her breasts when she froze for a moment then continued onward until her hands cupped the perfect orbs. “And did you?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” she asked, lightly brushing her nails over her nipples.

“Does it matter?” Loki asked, his fingers sliding between her spread thighs to where her curls glistened.

Lauren sighed and rocked on his hand. “Maybe not. Did they say why?”

“Yes. Does that matter?”

“A… a little,” she moaned when he spread her wetness around.

“Anger. Jealousy.”

“Was it warranted?” She peered down at him, the fire of desire in her eyes.

“Never.”

“Seriously, Loki.”

He watched her ride his hand before sinking his fingers inside her. “I swear it wasn’t. I swear it.”

“I believe you.” The final question was on her face, unasked, but clear all the same.

“I banished him. I didn’t kill him, Lauren. I sent him away.”

“Why?” she asked, evidently expecting a different answer.

“Because when he begged for his life, I asked him what made him worthy of a second chance only to wonder what made me worthy of a second chance. What did the Norns see in me to give me you? I chose mercy and banishment rather than one more death on my hands. I’ve guaranteed he’ll never return and never plot against us. He didn't hurt you, though he tried. And it was, as I suspected, a spur of the moment decision I truly believe he regret-”

Her hand closed over his mouth before she leaned down and replaced it with her lips. The sweet, soft, tender kiss relaxed every one of his slowly tightening muscles.

“Okay, Loki,” she whispered, her hands framing his face. “I trust you. Whatever decision you made.”

He closed his eyes and shook a little, the validation making him gasp having feared he’d made the wrong decision even though Thor had agreed with him. “I just want you safe. I need you safe,” he murmured as he rolled her beneath him, determined to make love to his wife one more time before morning.

If the Gledeblomstring rained their pollen down on the slowly moving lovers again, neither noticed, too intent on getting lost in each other.

Next Chapter

[pixelpolaroid]

Ripples of the Past- Chapter 18

Wake up

The red aura had each ego suspended in the air, unable to move a muscle. Their eyes darted rapidly around, trying to catch a look from Marvin. The magician held his hand out to the them, holding them still with his newly borrowed power, his gaze remained down and his shoulders gently rising and falling with his breath.

The demon kneeling looked up at the frozen forms and smiled. “Thank you Marvin. You’ve performed wonderfully,” He stumbled to stand, slowly approaching Marvin. “Now hand me my cane, your friend cause quite a bit of damage.”

The magician turned his anger towards the demon, reaching out and placing a red barrier between them. “Marvin?” Phantom questioned in a demanding demeanor. “What are you doing?”

Marvin’s eyes were facing down and away from the demon, like his mind was in a completely different place, though he turned in Phantom’s direction before agonizingly slowly lifting his head.

Through the magician’s mask, he could see that his irises had both turned deep and darkening blue. “I (I) can (can) hear (hear) them (them),” The magician’s voice echoed with each word he spoke. Another voice was ringing in tandem with his own, like another spirit was with him, speaking through him. “The (the) souls (souls). I (I) can (can) hear (hear) him (him).”

Phantom looked at him puzzled, but was unable to question any further as the magician reached out with his aura, wrapping Phantom tightly and lifting him in the same position as the others. Elevated off the ground and unable to move a single part of his body.

Marvin on the other hand was brimming with rage, now it was directed at the injured demon. His feet slowly lifted off the ground until he was up at eye level now with his old mentor. “I (I) can (can) hear (hear) my (my) brother (brother). I (I) can (can) feel (feel) his (his) soul (soul),” The magician lifted his free hand, the air being squeezed from Phantom’s lungs, he began gasping under Marvin’s reinforced mage’s hand.

The power began to show through him physically now. The tips of his fingers were turning black, and he did nothing to resist as the power forced its way forward, elongating his fingernails into black, monstrous claws. He held a single claw under Phantom’s chin and began pulling it up, cutting a thin line up to his mouth.

Marvin pulled his hand back and dropped the demon where he was and lowered himself gently to the ground. The phantom gasped out, collecting his own steps. Though the magician was caught off guard when he heard the demon begin to laugh. “That was probably,” He gasped deep breaths between his statement. “The dumbest decision you could have made.”

Marvin’s eyes narrowed at him, but was soon caught off guard by something grabbing his ankle. He looked down and was soon pulled down by the black appendage that Jackie had sliced off previously. Marvin frantically swiped his claws at it, damaging the surface, but the single limb was soon assisted by two, then three more as Phantom rather quickly regained his strength.

The demon laughed as Marvin was soon restrained. “Well look at this. Pinned down under my toe again. When will you learn Marvin?”

No. No something was wrong. He should be stronger than Phantom. He should be able to fight him back while he wields the cane. The souls were under his command this time, or they should be at least.

Phantom laughed, as if hearing Marvin’s own thoughts. “Now Marvin there’s no need to think that way,” The magician looked up at the demon, the cane in his hand glowing red like his eyes. “You shouldn’t try to fight the one you belong with. You work for me remember.”

Without a second thought, Marvin found himself nodding. “Yes (yes),” His voice was weak, and the echo seemed to almost overpower Marvin’s own voice. Even as he tried to think about it, Marvin knew that he owed Phantom. For the things he’s done for him, and for the terrible things Marvin did in the past. He was wrong to fight him, he was wrong to resist.

Marvin felt his body being lifted to stand. His eyes stayed on Phantom. The demon held under his chin and smiled, looking deeply into Marvin’s now red burning eyes. “There he is. Now why don’t we take care of these intruders finally,” Again, without any resistance, Marvin nodded, turning to face the frozen egos floating before him.

No matter how much they tried to struggle, and Marvin could feel it all as he held onto them, there was no movement in them. They were all completely still and could feel the cold grasp Marvin had on all of them. Jameson tried to reach out to him, tried to connect through his own small amount of magic and talk to him, but he was blocked off by whatever Phantom had done to his mind.

The lights from the tent began to flicker violently and they watched as Marvin reached a clawed hand out to them all. As the egos braced themselves for whatever they saw happen to Chase, preparing for it to happen to them next, the feeling never came. In fact, the feeling they all experienced was familiar. It didn’t seem to come from Marvin. It was all around them. Even in the strange grip that they were in, Henrik could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The inside of his mouth tasted metallic, and the slowly increasing sound of electrical volts popping seemed to draw closer and quickly.

Before Marvin could do anything to react, the tent filled with a strong shock of electricity as a force came in from the front entrance like a bolt of lightning. The egos were all instantly released from Marvin’s grip as the magician and demon were both thrown back by the sudden attack.

The doctor felt his hand shake when the familiar static noises entered his ears. As he looked up, he saw before them, floating with his back to the egos, facing Marvin was Anti. Electricity was physically jolting from his body and his glitching was more violent than ever. “Anti?” Henrik called, but the glitch made no response.

His eyes stayed trained on the magician. “Back. Off. My. Brothers!” Anti’s voice was glitchy as ever. His eyes were pure black and Marvin looked up at him, actually showing some form of confused and fearful emotions.

The newly empowered glitch brought a hand up, blue lightning swarming his fist. He waited not a second before shooting his own power at Marvin, the magician lifted to his knees as he cried out in agony. Jackie was ready to tackle him to the ground, but was stopped by Henrik who could hear the separate cry. The doctor pointed him over to see Phantom also screaming out in pain, as if he were being electrocuted himself.

Marvin’s screams didn’t even sound like his own. It sounded like that voice that had been echoed in Marvin's mind and in his voice. As the electricity shocked through him, Marvin could feel everything beginning to clear up. He was remembering, realizing what he was about to do. He was with Phantom, working with him as a partner. In fact, he could feel the demon’s presence being weakened by the attack from Anti. It wasn’t even hurting him, it was all focused on the other entity that was whispering in his mind. The moments that passed as Anti’s static zapped his mind, he felt like he was being woken up after remaining comatosed for much too long.

As his own conscience returned to him, Marvin took his own strength and power to exile the part of Phantom from him, forcing it out and feeling it retreat weekly back to the demon’s staff. Anti halted his attack, falling back to the ground, holding himself up on one knee. Henrik ran to the glitch’s side, ready to check for injuries. “Anti!” He called out, trying to help him up.

“I’m good doc,” He reassured him. The glitch demon looked up at Marvin. He seemed unharmed, but he was staying kneeling to the ground, breathing heavily.

“What did you do to him?” the doctor asked.

Anti smirked, eyeing the weakened, barely moving form of Phantom just a few feet off. “I woke him up,” He responded. “I seem to be pretty good at that.”

Before Henrik could even think about whether the joke was okay to laugh about, Marvin was standing to his feet. He looked down at the cane in his hands. The black claws had  disappeared when Anti shocked him, thankfully. He looked around. The magician saw the egos, they seemed lost, though he couldn’t really blame them. He saw Phantom, the demon was incredibly weakened. Marvin could sense that he was still alive, but just barely. It would take a long time before he could regain his strength, especially without his cane.

Looking past the demon however, his eyes landed on a figure laying practically dead still, hardly even breathing. It was the creature that Phantom brought him. The corruption is what he’d been told. Though, giving it a second glance, Marvin saw no corruption. His breathing picked up, the image of his unconscious brother laid dead still before him.

[marquis-teren-kiden]

“Here, let me show you how.” -Rodanthe {Prompt: two characters who have been sparring or in combat training together. Feel free to make any changes.I can see him as a mentor to Rodanthe, someone she can trust when she needs advice, or help with certain areas. She has had to learn everything on her own.

For several hours, I have watched this young woman sparring in the Brawler’s Pub, defiant in the face of one defeat after another. Others in the room see only her failures, but I? I see her heart. She is an unmitigated Survivor. Win. Lose. Draw. It matters not, for she persists.

Even in the face of her own relentless doubts whispering each flawed technique applied under the most grueling of circumstances. She’s not here, however, to win.

Rodanthe Margrave is here to learn.

My former Paramour, Elias Hawthorne, spoke rarely but well of this young woman, and I see wherein his praise has been derived for she is silently majestic in the face of these obstacles. A proper polymath autodidact, like myself. Willing to endure whatever ignominies are required in order to molt and to grow.

Like my admiration. Though she’s adorned in an impressive collection of cuts, scrapes, and bruises to show for her efforts, there is nothing more impressive to me than the determined defiance in her eyes as she - for the forty-third time - drags herself up from the pit. 

There is no fanfare for those who do not win. At best, she hopes for silence. An end to the interminable mocking of the staff and patrons whose unrelenting tongues have wagged ceaselessly since the conclusion of her first match.

I, however, hope for more. Far more.

“Miss Margrave, might I be of some assistance?” It takes quite near to a full minute for her to overcome the flush of her cheeks as she peers up at me. Her thoughts are thick with complimentary thoughts of my magnetic presence and masculinity. Enough that even I feel an abashed appreciation for the eloquent timidity of her fleeting exploration of a romantic exchange between us. “I believe you are attempting something far too profound for these–” I mind my tongue. Many here are possessed of reasonable intellect. It’s the emotionally stunted and immature who spoil the lot. “–individuals are capable of teaching.”

“I uhm…I’m fine, thank you, m’Lord.” She assumes my nobility by the expense of my attire and cadence of my high born accent. I’m hardly at liberty to argue the veracity of the assumption. With an awkward bow followed by an admirable attempt at a curtsy the young woman hustles away to sign up for her next match; heedless of the line that has formed ahead of her and certainly not expecting me to persist in my offer. 

With a casual mien, I approach her with several feet to spare between us as I turn about to face her. “With respect, Miss Margrave, I am afraid I must insist. What you wish to learn, I can teach without the additional cost of a visit to the local infirmary. Please–” I hold my hand out - palm up - to indicate my intention to receive hers. “–I suspect Elias would prefer you learn the art of war from an accomplished strategist. I am such a person, and – if you will allow it – I would be honored to teach you how to wield well the most dangerous weapon of them all.”

It is, perhaps, a bit of cheating to invoke his name, and yet, I can hardly remain idle as she continues to suffer needlessly in search of a weapon she already possesses. Wary of my intentions, there’s a stark craving in her to see him and ask if he trusts me to accomplish this task. “Elias is here?” She’s testing the veracity of my words and intention. 

I shake my head. “No Darling. I’ve not seen him since he concluded our romantic affairs early this year. We were deeply in love, but unable to offer it in a manner the other required. He remains, however, deeply cherished, and I hope he will offer such kind words of me when next you speak.”

She takes her time – several minutes in fact – to weigh her options, during which I offer no interruption. Patience is rewarded, as I have taught my Husband and our Fiancèe. There’s no harm in allowing her time to decide for herself what my intentions may be. 

“Alright.” She whispers, nodding to herself as she affirms in her own mind to take this unanticipated leap of faith. With a tremble she struggles to control, her hand lands with a jarring impact to my palm, eliciting a wince and awkward attempt at apology. “I-I’m so sorry, M’–”

I’m not normally so rude as to interrupt, but we teach others how we wish for them to treat us, and I’d much prefer she see me as a potential friend and mentor rather than a noble. “Please,–” I wave it all away, clasping atop her hand briefly in an attempt to reassure her. “–Teren. My name is Teren. I’m here as a friend. Perhaps, in time, you may allow me to mentor you further. But, for now–” With a gentle pull I lead her out of the establishment and back into the light day where the smell of molten metal and clang of blacksmiths scattered about Stormwind’s Dwarven District greet our senses with thick smoke and unseasonal warmth.

“Where are we going, Mister Teren?” The quaint accent of a native Westfallian holds some minor appreciation to my ear. Our course takes us across the walled District to the seawall overlooking the sea beyond the Park.

“To close your wounds and open your mind, Darling.” Though she remains uncertain regarding my intentions, I’ve been mindful to keep us well within the public domain where any passerby or passing guard patrol might intercede if I were to attempt a liberty unamenable to her. An aspect of our travels which allows her curiosity to overwhelm her normally keen instinct for self-preservation.

“You said you were gonna teach me how to use the most powerful weapon of all, but you haven’t said what that weapon is, sir.”

“Teren.” I reiterate as I guide her to a stone bench nearby and take a knee before her. At last, I am at liberty to examine her for wounds. Where a Light-Wielder might pour forth a general suffusion of their sacred energies, we Shadow Weavers have the ability to examine every iota of dark matter strewn between the protons throughout our patient’s bodies. Detect weaknesses yet undiscovered; knit bone as if it were flesh, at a sub-atomic level. “Yes. What weaponry do you currently favor, if I might ask?” 

“My bow. I can do just about anything I need to with my bow, Sir.” She replies with the same confidence she’d engaged her opponents. Not fearless, but aware that she’d survive whatever they through at her. 

I offer her a smile while discreetly perusing her wounds. The exploration with the void is often noted by an inexplicable chill. She shivers as my hand remains gently clasped along hers; the point of origin for my effort to examine her injuries and efforts to gently restore her body to proper health. It’s tedious, time consuming, and - for now - a perfect opportunity to set her on a path to her greater potential. “Are there any other weapons you’ve an interest in studying?”

Her eyes loft to the skies, perhaps seeking after the avian companions she sees so often overhead. Or so she tells herself. A series of failed attempts at wielding polearms and pikes have left a frustratingly bitter taste on her tongue. “Polearms.” She whispers and the aggravation imparted to that single word is heartbreakingly thorough; laced as it is with an accent of shame. “They’re too heavy. I can’t swing ‘em.”

“What would you say if I told you that the most powerful weapon you will ever wield is already here, and utterly under your control?” I posit as I finish knitting her wounds. Once the Void has served its function I return it to its normal place within the fabric of creation, waiting nearly a full minute as we speak before moving over the mended tissue with a meticulous application of light energies I rarely advertise. I’m certainly not in mind to spend my life trapped in a hospital awaiting the next vainglorious beast to arrive from the tides of war. But, for her? Yes.

She shakes her head, smiling bashfully. “If you’re about to say it’s my brain, I’d say I’d hate to disappoint you but… I might just disappoint you, Mister–”

“Teren. Just. Teren.” I reiterate softly. “Now that you’re feeling a bit more spry, might I ask a favor of you in good faith?” Only at my words does it dawn on her that the aches and pain she’d been mindful not to utter a word of complaint toward had simply faded away, unnoticed in the casual discourse we’ve been sharing. “Here. Let me show you how.”

It’s an unnatural thing in her mind, this addressing of strangers in so personal a manner, yet it finally settles in her gut that I’ve shown no poor intention. Withdrawing her hand from mine, she rises to her feet, peering down at me with an awkward posture which speaks to her general lack of surety in my company. “Alright…Teren. What do I have to do?”

Rising to my feet, I tower over her, so I begin with a fundamental of combat - equalizing the playing field. “I’ve seen enough of you to know that you are quite capable of overcoming your own pain to achieve an objective. But, I propose you work smarter, not harder. To begin, you will attempt to bring me to ground by whatever means are at your disposal. I will attempt to prohibit you without resorting to any weapon or violence beyond the application of my knowledge. If you are defeated, you will agree to take up the mind as your next weapon. If you defeat me, I will teach you any physical weapon I have knowledge of. Do you agree to these terms?”

Her head shifts in the negative, even as her hands come up in rejection of the offer. “Oh, no, Sir. I don’t want to hurt you Mister Teren.”

Stepping forward - well inside of her personal space - I make myself openly vulnerable to any strike she cares to offer. “I’m afraid, as I’ve stated previously, I must insist.” I reply in a seductive tone laced with authority.

Side-stepping the bench, she moves back another step, and then another. “I thought you said you were going to teach me how to wield a weapon.”

Following her until she’s forced to act or submit, I bow low, brushing the scruff of my beard along her cheek as I offer my hushed rejoinder in a velvet baritone. “I am teaching. Are you learning?” I reply calmly, my gaze pinned to her owlish orbs as her head tilts up in an act of submission she likely doesn’t realize she’s offering.

She’s unaccustomed to feeling at war with her own body. It’s a tempestuous battlefield laced with a litany of urges and desires few men have held privilege to inspire within her. “I-I–uhm” The stammering is a product of the adrenaline spike she experiences. A fight, flight or freeze response where the latter is holding her in place like a caged rabbit.

I reach for her chin, stroking gently along the front of her neck and stirring a deepening crimson color along her lustrous cheeks. Her breath hitches, and corneas widen. Even her lips swell with added blood flow. Her tongue slips from plush pink lips to wet them in anticipation. All subtle autonomic indicators of an aroused Human in a state of expectation for more - far more - than the verbal intercourse we’ve exchanged. 

Not all battles must occur with violence. Indeed, far fewer should. With our lips less than an inch apart, I utter the most telling of phrases for this, our first engagement. “Do you yield, Miss Margrave?”

[Thank you for the lovely ask, @rodanthemargrave. I do hope I’ve met your expectations, Darling.]