#other parts to change them. its just so stupid to me. the show stinks and the sub is just way better. i watched glitter force when i was

[be-good-to-bugs]

:)

[luminnara]

Omega Depression || Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!fem!reader

Hi! Can I request an alpha!Kiribaku x omega!fem!reader where she is strong on the outside, but sensitive on the inside. Then, some asshole alpha comes and insults her saying that she isn't worthy of having alphas and other super mean stuff that makes her go to omega depression. After that, she confines and isolates herself in her room, not allowing her alphas to enter. Days pass, she misses school for like a week, and her alphas are tired of waiting, so they bust the door and find their omega deep in omega depression and starving herself, and they're super worried and try to help her get out of it, cause she could die if not. The rest can be little angst with a fluffy happy ending!

Yo I live for alpha kiribaku, not gonna lie

Warnings: angst, mental health stuff, depression, eating disorder/starvation stuff, abo

Requests are open!

You were always happy with your alphas. Bakugou and Kirishima were the loves of your life, you were sure of it. The three of you got along well, and there was nothing you enjoyed more than spending time with your boys. You kept up with them easily, never having trouble when it came to handling Katsuki’s temper or Eijiro’s enthusiasm. They loved protecting you, too, not that you ever really seemed to need it; you were tough as nails, as far as everyone was concerned. 

You weren’t, though, not really. 

“What a useless little omega.”

The words kept repeating in your head, over and over.

“Two alphas? Yeah, right. You don’t even deserve one, not with an uppity attitude like that.”

They kept echoing, no matter what you tried to do. 

“What a stupid bitch. They should just leave your sorry ass. You aren’t worthy of anyone, much less alphas.”

You curled in on yourself. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone say that about you? How could a shitty alpha go and ruin your mood, and your day, by saying something so awful?

“I am worthy!” You had argued. “And we’re happy together, so just fuck off.”

“Oh yeah? Then why haven’t they claimed you yet?” His lips had pulled over his teeth in a sick grin. “You know they’re just biding their time, waiting for something better to come along. You’re nothing to them.”

The little spat had been earlier that morning. It was rare that you ever went out alone; usually Eijirou or Katsuki or both of them were stuck to you like glue, but this had been one of those instances when you had absolutely insisted you would be fine. After all, you were just running a couple errands. You weren’t even going very far from campus. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?

Well...this, apparently.

You had rejected the advances of an alpha who had been eyeing you for quite some time. He was annoying and his scent always made you recoil, but you would never, not in a million years, have thought that he could hurt you so deeply.

Why were his words even bothering you so much? You knew your boys liked you. They made sure to constantly cover you in their scents, they happily gave up their shirts for you to tuck into your little bed nest, they held your hands and gave you sweet little kisses...

And yet, he was right. They hadn’t claimed you yet. There were no big bite marks on your neck to show the world that you were taken. Why hadn’t it happened yet? You always thought that maybe they were just nervous, and they wanted to wait for the right time. Maybe they wanted to wait until school was over and they were better established as heroes.

Or maybe they were just playing with you, maybe you were nothing more than their favorite toy for the time being. What if they got tired of you? What if they really were planning on kicking you to the curb? Without a bond mark, nobody would even blink if they cast you aside. It would just be a normal break up, nothing for anybody else to even care about or get involved in.

But your heart was already aching at the thought of it.

You huddled up in your nest, ugly sobs wracking your body as you clutched one of Katsuki’s hoodies to your chest. An undershirt of Eijirou’s was nearby, a few plushies that they had given you tucked in amongst the blankets and pillows. The scents of burnt sugar and cinnamon wafted around you, and as comforting as they usually were, they weren’t helping you now. Nothing was.

You heard your phone vibrate, but you didn’t reach for it. You didn’t care. You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts, absolutely trapped in your head now. You were plagued by those same words as they kept repeating, telling you over and over that you were worthless, useless, nothing.

When you finally managed to glance at your phone, you had missed texts from both your alphas. You replied to them with a couple of half hearted “yeah, I’m fine” -s, then finally slithered out of bed to make sure your door was locked. You didn’t want to face them when they came to bother you.

If they came.

You spent the entire day like that. When you were out of tears to cry, you just grew numb. It was the worst you had ever felt, and while some part of you knew, deep down, that you needed your alphas to come help you, you couldn’t stand the idea of them seeing you like this. How had you managed to grow so afraid? You usually told them everything, but now...now you abhorred the thought.

“Oi!” Katsuki’s rough voice came from the other side of your door, his scent wafting in. “Open up!”

You didn’t answer, curling in on yourself even further instead. 

“Omega!” he called angrily. “Stop ignoring me, dammit!”

“Go away!” you managed to squeeze out, your voice sounding weak and strangled. 

He was silent for a moment, his scent changing. It grew more burnt-smelling as his anger mounted, and as it reached your nose, you felt panic and annoyance spiking in your chest. 

“Omega,” he growled, voice low. You heard the doorknob jiggling as he tried to get in, but you had locked the deadbolt, and unless he unleashed his quirk right there in the dorms, there was no way he was entering your room.

“I said go away!” you yelled. 

On the other side of the door, Katsuki was fuming. The beginning sparks of little explosions were popping around his hands, and if Eijirou wasn’t there to hold his arms down at his sides, there was a good chance he would have done some real damage to the hallway. 

“Katsuki, c’mon.” the larger alpha said. “Let’s just leave her alone for a little.”

“Something’s wrong,” Katsuki pulled back as his partner started trying to drag him away. “She stinks.”

“Yeah, she definitely doesn’t smell happy,” Kirishima paused, frowning. “But...we need to give her the space, if she wants it.”

“Fuck that,” his partner spat. 

“Katsuki....” Eijirou sighed. 

Bakugou’s nostrils flared angrily for a moment, red eyes wild as Kirishima grabbed his arm once again. Someone was trying to drag him away from his omega, from his perfect little mate, and if it had been anyone other than Eijirou, he would have done far worse than simply dig his heels into the floor and growl in protest. Kirishima was right, though; if their omega wanted alone time, they couldn’t just barge in without permission. As much as it hurt both boys, as desperate as they were to get to you and make you feel better, they weren’t total animals. They respected you, and prided themselves on being two big, capable alphas who listened to their omega. 

They returned to their own rooms, expecting to at least hear from you within an hour or two. 

Hours turned to days. 

You texted them a few times, listless, half-assed messages that did little to reassure them. You would send a pathetic I’m fine or a It’s okay here and there, only after they had both blown your phone up for a few hours. It was the only reason they hadn’t tried to tear your door off its hinges; they knew you were alive, at least. But by the third day, Katsuki was beside himself, and even Eijirou was getting upset enough to consider using his quirk to get to you. 

You wished that he would. You didn’t want to face them, but at the same time, the fact that they weren’t tearing the building apart to reach you was making you even sadder. Your sad scent was starting to leech out into the rest of the dorms, and by the end of the fifth day, nobody could stop your alphas. 

“Oy!” Bakugou snarled, his fist thudding against your door. “Open up, omega!”

You didn’t answer, too weak and listless to bother. 

“Babe?” Kirishima asked, his voice strained with the effort of not yelling in panic. 

“We know you’re in there,” Katsuki growled. “Quit avoiding us!”

Still, you didn’t answer. 

Then, you could hear some shuffling, and the door was being torn off its hinges by Kirishima. Bakugou stormed in as soon as the path was clear, his red eyes blazing with anger, his hands balled into fists.

“You’d better show your face right fuckin’ now, or I swear I—“

He fell silent at the sight of you. His eyes widened, his nostrils flaring. Your scent was so strong and so incredibly miserable that a wave of nausea passed through him. He hadn’t expected that it would be so pungent in your room, and as he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, he rushed towards you.

“Baby,” he cooed, vaguely aware of Kirishima behind him, “what the fuck is going on?”

You tried to bury yourself in your nest, trying to burrow away from the world, but a big hand caught you around the middle and pulled you back out. Eijirou manhandled you easily, his eyes wide with concern as he sat on the floor and placed you in his lap.

“You haven’t been eating,” he observed, looking at your tired eyes. “Or sleeping.”

Katsuki was beside himself with worry. He was immediately sitting in front of his boyfriend, caging you in between them as he began looking you over. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

You didn’t want to tell them. Your throat was sore from crying, and you felt stupid for being so upset. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of and buried your face in Kirishima’s broad chest, clinging to his shirt weakly.

“Omega, please,” the big redhead pleaded, leaning his head down to scent you. “Tell us.”

You shook your head.

“We know Somethin’ is wrong, so spit it out!” Katsuki barked.

His voice was harsh, but you felt a warm, gentle hand on your back that could only be his. The familiar touch made you sigh, and after a shuddery breath, the dam finally broke.

“Th-there was an alpha,” you whimpered, voice muffled by Kirishima.

“What the fuck did they do?” Katsuki growled, his voice deep and savage. It sent a chill down your spine and you whined, clinging to Eijirou for dear life.

“Cut it out,” Kirishima snapped, snorting at his boyfriend angrily. “You’re making it worse.”

“I just wanna know what happened!” He grumbled, his hand pressing into your back.

You hiccuped as a little sob wracked your body. “A-an alpha I rejected, h-he told me…he told me that I wasn’t good enough for you.”

The low rumble in Kirishima’s chest was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was threatening and powerful, putting Bakugou’s growl a moment ago to shame. His arms tightened around you, the scent gland on his neck slipping over your hair as he tried to cover up your unhappy omega stink.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Kirishima snarled, uncharacteristically angry.

“Hey.” Bakugou slipped a hand around your waist, prying you away from the other alpha slightly. “Look at me.”

You faced him with teary eyes, and when you tried to shy away, he took your chin in his fingers. 

“We fuckin’ love you. Okay? I don’t say it much. Maybe I should say it more. But it’s true, ‘n no stupid, two-bit, shitty-ass alpha knows anything about the three of us.”

He leaned forward, pushing you back up against Kirishima with his head resting on your shoulder. You finally sighed, surrounded by the scents of your alphas, allowing yourself to relax as the dam broke and your crying started all over again. This time, though, it was freeing, and as your alphas rocked back and forth with you, you felt the dread and the anxiety slowly leaving your stomach. 

“Better?” Eijirou asked after a while. 

“A little.” you said, voice muffled by his tear-stained shirt. 

“Good.” Katsuki said gruffly, pulling you up to stand. “Let’s go get some food in you. Point that shitbag out if you see him...I wanna have a few words.”

[michiigii-writes-mysme]

Today will be a depraved, Unknown kind of day~

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

This is during Ray’s route, so spoiler alert, I guess?

And technically an AU considering I added an element to her room…

July 10th - Ice Cube Cool Down - Mr. Saeran x MC

Mr. Saeran was in a terrible mood. The sweltering heat of the day could irritate the most patient of people, and since his change, Mr. Saeran was anything but patient. Since noon, he had been stomping around the grounds, between angrily pounding at his keyboard and yelling at other believers. When he finally made his way to the specially locked room, none of the other residents of Magenta envied his Toy.

The girl flinched when her door crashed open, but when she saw who it was, she didn’t move from where she was on the bed. She was lying on her side, admiring the wilting flowers on her table and trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach, trying to forget the stifling heat of the windowless room. He hadn’t allowed her breakfast or lunch, and while she hoped he would bring something for dinner, she knew the best she could hope for was stale bread and tepid water.

“Uggh, it stinks in here,” the white-haired hacker growled, passing a hand over his face, “The heat makes the stench even worse…”

He means the opposite. He means the opposite, she thought to herself, her mantra since her darling Ray had drowned in green elixir, He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean it.

Mr. Saeran slammed the door behind him, locking it securely. The girl on the bed slowly sat up, noticing that he was holding a glass of something.

“Are those…ice cubes?” she asked, her voice hoarse as the question made its way past her cracked lips.

“What if they are?” he sneered, stalking across the room to her.

Before she sat up completely, his hand was around her neck, pushing her back down onto the bed.

“You thought I would bring you a treat?” he spat, “Stupid toy! It’s so hot, it must have destroyed what little brain cells you have! What makes you think you deserve ice?”

He hauled the girl by the hair to the centre of the bed, and reaching to the bed posts, Saeran pulled out two lengths of leather that had seen good use since he had made her his plaything.

“Ray, wait-“

She tried to slow him down, grabbing at his wrists, but she was so weak from hunger, he easily swatted her away. Even with one hand holding the cold glass of ice cubes, he made quick work of tying her wrists with the leather, pinning her down to the bed.

“How many times do I need to tell you, Toy? Ray is gone. He’s left you and now you’re mine.”

“What are you going to d-“

Stifling her mouth with his hand, he glared at a spot just behind her ear. He never looked her straight in the eye, she noticed; whenever he accidentally did, he would get even more unstable and abandon her in moments.

And, curse her pathetic heart, she didn’t really want him to go. He might be rough with her, but he never actually hit her. And even if he wasn’t really her Ray, she still wanted him close. There were moments in between the screaming and throwing items around her room, where he would pause, and she would get glimpses of…something. He wasn’t Ray, anymore…but the monster that he became wasn’t really him, either. There was something more in Saeran, and she wanted more than anything to reach out and draw him to the surface. And she couldn’t do that if he left her alone.

Saeran frowned when he saw there was no place to put his glass, then with a cruel grin balanced it right in the centre of her chest, on her breastbone just beside where her curves began. It was cold! Too cold! His hand muffled your gasp, but his lips curled higher when he saw your eyes widen and your legs spasm in shock.

“What, Toy? Doesn’t that feel so much better than the heat?”

Taunting her, he ripped the front of her dress open, buttons flying across her bed, exposing the rest of her body as he tore the dress completely open. He tugged her bra down, releasing her breasts, and cupped one in a greedy, possessive grip. His hands were still cold from the glass; again, she gasped, but they could both hear that the sound wasn’t completely born from pain.

“You filthy girl,” he sneered, squeezing her breast and easing another moan out of her, “I only wanted to chill you, but you’re actually enjoying this?”

She shook her head to deny it, then flinched when a freezing drop of condensation slid down the side of the glass, splashing against her skin.

“Bad girl,” he growled, releasing her mouth and taking an ice cube from the glass, rubbing it against his bottom lip pensively, “You know you should never lie to me.”

She opened her mouth to maybe deny it, or beg for mercy, but as soon as her lips parted, he pushed the ice cube into her mouth. Instinctively, she closed her lips, her teeth clicking around the ice before he could try to take it away. It was life-giving water and she could almost cry at how refreshing it was.

But Saeran hadn’t wanted to show mercy; he had wanted her silenced, and he had succeeded. His hands moved to play with her breasts, her nipples already erect from the cold. One was a little shyer than the other, much to his disapproval. He took another ice cube, the glass ever balanced on her chest, and traced a lazy circle around her areola; she whimpered at the intensity, but his eyes darkened as he watched her nipple perk up.

“You may be a useless fool, Toy, but it is fun to make you squirm,” he muttered, dragging the ice cube over her tip.

She wanted to cry out, but she would risk choking on the cube in her mouth. She wanted to turn away, to ease the sensation even a little, but then the glass might tip. So, she stifled another yelp, her legs twisting this way and that, trying to subdue the heat that was pooling between them.

He finally released her other breast, but to her chagrin she saw him take another ice cube from the glass. He was running it through his fingers, as if trying to figure out what to do with it, while he continued to torture her nipple with swipes of ice. She wanted to shut her eyes, to not watch what he would do to her next, but when she tried it, every touch and every icy drip felt even more sharp and intense. Better to watch and expect the teasing, she decided, turning her agonized gaze back to her captor.

She relaxed a little when Saeran popped the ice cube into his own mouth. He must be hot, too, she knew; maybe now that he had something to drink, he would calm down. Instead, he lowered his body against hers, his mouth coming down to latch around her nipple. She gave a choked cry, fingers clawing at the open air, unable to break free from the leather straps at her wrists. She felt his icy tongue tease her sensitive nub, then suckle while the ice cube played in his mouth. Wet warmth and freezing cold played at both her breasts, exquisite torture that made her head spin. It wasn’t until he pulled back that she realized she had been screaming; the ice cube in her mouth had disappeared without her realizing it.

“Shut up!” he snapped, putting both half-melted ice cubes into his mouth, then shoving your lips against his. A rough, bruising kiss, and when her lips parted, both pieces of ice slipped through; again, she was silenced.

Through a thick, hungry and lust-filled haze, the girl could hear the glass tinkling again, and sharp cold surprised her just above her bellybutton. Saeran moved down her body, sweeping the fresh ice cube left and right across her stomach, distracting her so she never felt him remove her damp panties. It wasn’t until the ice cube was at her mound and he had hooked her thighs over his shoulders that she realized what he was going to do.

“Nnn!!” she tried, legs spasming, but deep down, she wanted him to keep going, and he was very determined to splay her legs open for him to feast.

He rested the ice cube just over her pearl, close enough that she could feel the cold, but not enough that it would hurt her. Even he knew that an ice cube on her clit would be too much for her, especially in the dripping, needy state that she was already in. Her breath quickened in anticipation; she couldn’t see it, but she could feel a drop of melting ice already starting to slide down. Her eyes squeezed tight, feeling tension mounting as the icy water slowly grew bigger and bigger, teasing towards her clit, the sense of almost being touched making her head spin. Whether she wanted it to drip and sting her with its coldness, or whether she wanted to avoid the overwhelming sensation, she wasn’t sure.

Then, just when she should she couldn’t take it anymore, Saeran buried his face into her pussy, sloppy as he spread cool, melted water wherever he could feel wet velvet against his tongue. He didn’t try to be neat, or have any modicum of finesse; he wanted her to feel everything, both painful and pleasurable, and he wanted her to feel it now. With every twist of his tongue, every drop of icy water, even his fingers as they greedily pushed into and writhed in her core, he wanted to tear ecstasy and need and moaning and rapture out of her. Even as he felt her buck and try to break free of him, he devoured her, head shaking back and forth as he hunted for her release.

He wanted her to feel the intensity that he felt when his eyes met hers. He wanted her to cry. He wanted her to gasp. He wanted to hear her beg him for mercy as she screamed his name.

He wanted her shattered and undone and unable to function without him.

So he suckled and nibbled and impaled her on his fingers, never relenting until his goal was achieved.

—————

Hours later, he stood over her, her spent body curled up on the bed. He had pulled the blanket over her bare form, the starlight the only witness to this tiny show of kindness that she would never remember.

It had been such a hot day. But she had refreshed him.

And yet, already he craved more of her.

“…disgusting,” he grumbled, pulling his clothes back on, “Pathetic fool…”

He stalked out of the room, refusing to look back, to examine her sleeping face, to watch her dream and breathe easy.

Refusing to acknowledge that he wished he could stay with her.

—fin—

[technologically-sound]

Change logs

----------

What was WRONG with him.

That stupid, stinking, GOOD FOR NOTHING BEAST.

He thinks- he thinks he can just. Say these things? Like it cant read them? Like its deaf, dumb, blind?

It didn't know when it started floating to this new 'woods' Leshy had created. Dense and thick and green. Live and living. Po3 hated it. It made him burn deep in its core. He didn't know what that was. He hadn't felt it before. It didn't think so, at least. But it was so hard to tell, now, with everything that's happened.

It found their friends, the extras. The cohorts, minions, what have you.

Friends.

Scrap metal.

It didn't matter, Po3 had found them. Everyone else was happy, but, there was no where to put them all. Po3 installed their personalities for a time. Things got to be too much. It couldn't remember much from that time. How long it had been. In and out.

At some point, consciousness became whole again. It was easy, like nothing ever happened. Like it was woken up from a nap, despite not knowing what sleep was like.

Grimora had ventured onto the internet, she was brave and strong like that. Eventually she would bring Magnificus and Leshy along. They discovered programs where they could create digital bodies for their friends. 3D sculpting programs. They all recreated their friends, and took their code from Po3. Leaving it's mind the way it was. The way it always had been.

Everyone had felt it, but Po3 felt it the most. It wasn't even sure 'felt' could be the right word, but its the only one that worked. There was something missing. When they became untethered from the old_data, it removed something from each of them. It took so much away from Po3 that it didn't hardly know what it was anymore. How could that be?

Who was he, before? A bot. A perfect being. Po3.

----------

He shook his head, clearing his cluttered thoughts. Floating through the woods, the sounds of bugs and wildlife filling its audio sensors. Approaching a faraway light, soft orange, slowly coming into view. Leshy's new cabin. Still rustic, but fresh and not yet worn. Homey. Nostalgic.

It burned a hole in Po3's core. It couldn't put it to words. Indescribable.

He slammed the door open, his face flickering and showing disgust.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, huh? You think you can just, just say those things? Like I cant see them too? Are you finally senile, old man? Or are you just that inconsiderate? Here I thought you were a sap." The words just poured out of it, but he was never interrupted or stopped. And only after it stopped speaking did Po3 realize that there had been no response from the other.

Instead, Leshy sat patiently at his wooden table, full of nick-knacks and projects. Waiting patiently for the bot to finish speaking and calm down.

"....If you are done then. I assumed that, if anything, you would not care... Ahem."

"The Scrybe of Beasts cleared his throat, some sort of prickling crawling up his spine."

"Po3.... I understand things have been. Hard... for you, specifically. And I just think that- ah..."

"The... Scrybe of Beasts stopped. Wide.. eyed, at the bot suddenly floating inches from his face."

Po3 did move directly to Leshy, he didn't know when. Sometime when he was speaking, but it didn't recall. Something was, was faulty with its memory? But- no, focus. Its one hand was clasped on Leshy's throat, snug and firm.

"You.... just what the hell do you think you know? Huh? You suddenly an expert on all things Po3? You don't know me, I dont even know me."

"The Scrybe of Beasts... Ahem. Cleared his throat, unsure... of what to say..."

"I... know its been hard. Po3. It has been ages.... since.. before the old_data. It ruined who we were, before everything. We are... now permanently changed, but even more so that we've lost that part of us. There is a void of what we remember being, but can no longer be. And.... for some of us, that void is larger. It must be... immensely large for you. None of us could recognize you...."

Po3 would suck in a breath, if it needed to breathe. But it didn't, and instead it was left with this feeling that could never come to fruition. Instead it tightened its grip on Leshy's neck, cutting off his for a moment. He didn't react, just staring at the screen in front of him as the seconds ticked by without air.

Po3 left.

"The Scrybe's throat was hoarse for days... the skin bruised and tender. Po3 didn't come back."

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

whumptober day 10: crying

slightly more straightforward h/c this time!

summary: set after the ric grayson/joker war arc in nightwing. 

dick’s been missing for two months. jason finds him first, but it’s just the first step in finding how very, very lost dick really is.

warnings: SPOILERS for the aforementioned nightwing arcs. plentiful cursing. moderately graphic descriptions of injuries.

crying

The last time Jason received a family-wide SOS to help them rescue Dick, the guy was a twice-brainwashed mess whose brain was being pulled in opposite directions by the Court of Owls and the fucking Joker, and that was after said brain had been shattered by a fucking sniper’s bullet. (And a period of being left to fend for himself with a broken brain in between, but Jason doesn’t really like to think about that.) This time, he doesn’t know quite what to expect. He can’t imagine things have gotten even worse than the last go-around, but then again, Jason knows from personal experience that there’s no end to the list of ‘things that are worse than dying’.

Besides, the alert came from Babs. And, in quick succession, Tim, Bruce, Duke, and Cass. If nothing else, Jason is curious.

Dick disappeared from Bludhaven about two months ago. The reason the oh-so-precise Bats have the word ‘about’ in that statement is because nobody can really pinpoint the exact date it happened. Donna can recall dropping by his place ten weeks ago. Tim maybe exchanged a few emails or text messages a few weeks ago but didn’t really get alarmed about Dick not responding to his messages until the radio silence stretched for over a month. Bruce had his trackers on (that bastard) but Dick hates them and is known to destroy the ones he finds. And they can’t even really depend on reports of Nightwing sightings in the city because having his brain knocked around and pulled apart like taffy means Dick takes regular holidays from patrols if he’s not feeling particularly steady that day. (Look what being sensible and having a smidgeon of a sense of self-preservation got him.) And the CCTV in his apartment complex was shit, so. 

It’s almost like it was a planned thing, like he was kidnapped, but honestly it’s how things go and how they’ve gone for a very long time: they drift in their own worlds for long periods until an event brings them together, and then it’s back to being scattered across the country again (or sometimes the world, or sometimes the galaxy). Dick is more prone to this than most; he’s probably gone undercover more than any of them, and he’s lived the longest on his own as well. 

Even after the clusterfuck that was the last year and change, it’s nothing new. And if that isn’t the most fucking depressing thing that Jason’s had to think about today, it turns out that not only have the Family figured out where Dick is, but that Jason is the one that’s closest to his location. 

So here he is, shivering, on a particularly icy night on the Gotham docks, scoping out the warehouse where Dick’s supposed to be. It’s not very well-guarded, which either means there’s nothing in there and this is a massive waste of his time, or that it’s a trap and what’s waiting on the other side is a fucking bomb or something even worse. It’s not a great situation to be in either way, and Jason’s got half a mind to have Tim or even Bruce take over--but it’d take too long for them to get there and Jason’s never been fond of the idea of handing over to someone else anything that he could potentially do by himself.

Besides, like he said, he’s curious.

He crouches down at his vantage point overlooking the warehouse and presses the communicator in his ear. “Two guards in front but nothing else; the place is practically abandoned. Infrared picking up three people inside.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, bracing, ready to spring. “I’m about to go in.”

Tim grunts. “I’ll be there in fifteen, give or take a couple.”

“Twenty,” Bruce says. Then: “Hood, you--” An uncharacteristic pause, and Jason can feel the sudden, uneasy chill across the entire comm channel. Bruce clears his throat. “Be careful. Assess the situation first. Don’t engage alone unless it’s an emergency.”

There’s a thanks for stating the obvious on the tip of Jason’s tongue, but something about the gravity of the situation, the mildest quaver in Bruce’s voice (he’s been missing for two months, god, two months) has him say, instead: “Roger that.”

Jason makes quick work of the guards in the front, leaving them in unconscious heaps on the ground before he creeps in. They’d hardly put up a fight, which just makes Jason’s stomach twist in anxious knots. The anxiety is made worse by the complete lack of resistance when he’s actually inside: there are only two huge, cavernous rooms, and one of them has two of the three people that he’d detected. They scatter as soon as they see him and Jason considers chasing, but now his nerves are stretched so taut that he thinks he’s going to vomit if he doesn’t see Dick now--

The night-vision on Jason’s helmet catches a figure sitting, slumped, in the corner of the room. A chain connects a manacle around its ankle to the wall, and another between the same wall and… a collar around its neck. Jason’s blood is already boiling before he steps closer and recognises the figure as Dick. His hair is long and shabby, having grown past his chin, curtaining his face. He’s shirtless but wearing ripped, stained jeans. His hands are cuffed in front of him, the thin metal biting into his wrists enough to leave his hands puffy and slightly purple from the lack of effective circulation. He looks considerably thinner--Jason can just about count the ribs under his skin--and every visible part of his torso is painted in bruises in various stages of healing. And--

--and he’s breathing.

Well, thank fuck. That’s a start.

Jason crouches in front of Dick and presses his comm again. “Found N. Little worse for wear, but alive and safe.”

He ignores the immediate clamour of questions from the others to focus on trying to get Dick awake. He brushes Dick’s hair aside and gently lifts his chin to have a look at his eyes. 

Dick smiles at him. “Hey.”

Jason is beset by an onslaught of emotion that’s part relief, part incredulity and part anger, so much so that he thinks he’s going to fucking burst with the pressure of it. Of course that would be the first thing out of Dick’s mouth--hey--like he’s meeting Jason for cocktails after work instead of being rescued after two months of captivity and torture! Well he can take that hey and shove it right up his fucking--

“Is there anything else here we need to worry about,” Jason says, busying himself with picking the locks on Dick’s manacles so that he doesn’t snap and say something he’ll regret.

Dick shakes his head. He’s got a shaggy beard going and he stinks of sweat and urine and filth, but there’s a sense of… togetherness to him, like he’d always known that Jason was going to show up at this exact minute and that had always been part of his plan. “They scattered as soon as they got word that you guys were coming,” he says, voice thin and raspy. “I guess not enough of them were curious to stick around to find out why so many capes would be coming for me.”

Jason pops the manacles and collar loose and goes to work on the cuffs. “So you weren’t taken as Nightwing.”

Dick sighs, then winces as the motion pulls on the gigantic bruise around his neck. “I wasn’t taken as Dick Grayson, either.”

The cuffs come off with a click. Jason stares at him. “So… what, you were just some poor mug they picked up off the streets to… torture for shits and giggles?”

Dick is silent for a moment. His eyes flick to a point behind Jason and back again. “They knew me as Ric.”

It takes a moment for the name to click in Jason’s brain, but he finally remembers that it was what Dick called himself during his brain-injured year in Bludhaven. “Why would Ric have enemies?” he says, without thinking.

There’s that smile on Dick’s face again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ric did have a life, Jason. And friends. And… enemies.” He begins to move, bare feet shifting against the floor and shifting his weight onto his hands as if he’s trying to figure out a way to stand up, but barely manages an inch of elevation before he runs out of energy, breathing heavily. “Ric--I used to fight. Street fights. Involved a lot more money and people than I remembered, and… apparently a lot of people felt betrayed when I just up and left the city one day. I’ve been fighting matches here almost every day.” A sudden, sharp grin. “I haven’t lost yet.”

Jason--stops. Utterly freezes, hands midway to helping Dick sit upright, because there’s something terribly, terribly wrong here. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape? And how--I mean, in the first place--”

How did you even get caught?

To Jason’s horror, tears start rolling down Dick’s face. His expression doesn’t really change, so Jason’s not sure that Dick’s even aware that he’s crying, but right now Jason is already halfway to being mortified. “I was on my way back from the gym,” Dick says finally, “and I think I--I blacked out. It happens sometimes.” Dick gives a wet laugh. “Talk about bad timing.”

“And--and what, you blacked out for two months?”

At this Dick’s face crumples, and suddenly Jason gets it: this is a man pushed and pushed to the end of his rope and beyond, utterly exhausted, past the point of caring who knows about it or why. “I guess…” Dick swallows. “I didn’t really see the difference. Between--between here and out there.”

Jason wants to scream, shake his shoulders--a shameful part of him even wants to hit Dick--and tell him that of course it was different outside of this stupid, dank warehouse: he has friends and family and a lifetime of experience to support him while he flies free. It’s ridiculous to even compare the two, and Jason is ready to put these words down to the effects of too much pain and too little food.

Except--

(plucked you right out of one life and stuffed you into another, didn’t they? treated you like a puppet without a past and a future, didn’t they? didn’t let you entertain the idea of a different life even for a minute, did they? punished you for straying, reminded you there was just too much at stake, and that those stakes were always, always bigger than you or your health or your happiness or your future--)

“Dick, I--” Jason really doesn’t know what to say. Tim says, “ETA five” in his ear while Bruce says, “Right behind you, Robin” and Jason knows, just knows, that this isn’t how they would want to see Dick, and more importantly, this isn’t how Dick would want them to see him.

He gathers Dick in his arms and presses him to his chest. Dick freezes for a second, surprised, then melts into his embrace. His shoulders shake, hands coming up to weakly grasp at Jason’s jacket. The sobs reach a crescendo quickly, a pathetic keening muffled into Jason’s chest, before tapering away and Dick is still, just… breathing. 

Jason breathes with him.

That’s how Tim and Bruce find them a couple of minutes later. Dick peels away and somehow musters the energy to reassure them. Bruce helps him up and carries him to the car while Jason follows; just as Dick’s lowered into the backseat his hand shoots out, grasping Jason’s arm in a silent plea. 

Jason gets in with him. Neither he nor Bruce say anything through the whole drive at the tears that continue to pour down Dick’s face, but Jason doesn’t let go of his hand for the whole ride.

[finiteuniverse13]

home is people, not a place 2/?

Part 1

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.

She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.

She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.

The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.

(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)

The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.

Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.

All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.

She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.

“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”

She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.

“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”

She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.

“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”

Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.

“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”

Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”

A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.

Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.

“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”

TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”

This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.

Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.

“No murder, and no death.”

This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.

Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”

Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.

“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.

“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.

Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.

+

As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.

“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.

“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.

Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.

“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.

“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please

Sonny freezes. What?

“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.

“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”

For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”

Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.

“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.

And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.

Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.

Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.

“How are you feeling?”

Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”

Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.

“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?

“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.

Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.

Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”

Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”

Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”

It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”

Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.

Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.

+

Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.

Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.

Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.

Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.

Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).

Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.

Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.

The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.

They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.

[evarcana]

Get Your Act Together

Ev changes her plans for the evening and goes to the theatre.

words: ~3,2k

warnings: mentions strangling but it is not what you think it is.

notes: I don’t want to commit to calling it Chapter II but this fic takes place not long after these events, and really is just silly.

“No, seriously, at first I thought it was just people talking but the idiot really never parts with his wine glass,” says Ev and reclines in the chair, exhausted by her own dramatic tone. She throws her head backwards, the dark hair, colour of burned bronze, falling down in soft glistering waves followed by the drapes of her silk jacket, and drags both hands across the face with a sigh, trying to wipe away the apparent annoyance, but the creases between her brows are too stubborn and she decides to hide it instead, burying her face under the shadows of her palms. “Ignorant alcoholic,” she hisses through her fingers.

Ev is sitting in the sun outside of the wine merchant at the narrow cobbled street conveniently tucked away between the hustle and bustle of the Main Square and the glamour of the Heart District. Back in the Prakran capital the street so central would be full of people running errands and the neighbours talking in front of the doors despite the afternoon heat and humidity but here the only signs of life at four o'clock are languid piano exercises played somewhere behind the closed shatters and the faint but energetic drumbeat of the carriage passing in the distance.

“So what happened?” A young woman with eyes which are lighter than the sky sets a jug of rosemary lemonade and a glass on Ev’s table and looks down at her, pressing the tray against the black apron decorated with the embroidered grapevines.

Ev lifts her hands an inch and peeks at the woman from the shadows, her eyes narrowed and gleaming with anger. “He kicked me out,” she states flatly.

“Why?”, the woman in black apron asks somewhat wearly and turns to the shop’s entrance where a small jar of paint and a brush are waiting on the tea towel covering the stone step below the door. The paint on the brush is the same deep burgundy as the woman’s shirt.

Ev considers meeting Anais to be her only luck in Vesuvia. Not only does she run the excellent wine shop which also functions as a small bar but she is living in the flat above it and seems to be permanently bored and ready to entertain Ev with some gossip and tips about the city, which makes her a perfect neighbour for somebody who has just moved to the new place completely alone.

Ev’s nose wrinkles at the sharp smell of paint as she watches Anais dipping her brush in the jar. “I made one of those little dolls which they use for cursing people up North and brought it to the palace,” she says. It had a little braid made from silk and wool threads and Ev painted its face with the thinnest makeup brush she could find in her vanity table. Ev smiles to herself thinking that it was the most crafty thing she has done since she was thirteen but notices Anais staring at her with the expression of the person questioning somebody’s sanity, and quickly raises her hands defensively, palms up. “Listen, I am not proud of that.”

Anais rolls her eyes good-humouredly and for a few minutes they both watch the brush moving rhythmically tracing precise lines on the wooden door frame in silence, before Anais turns to Ev again. “Didn’t it happen on Tuesday too?”

“Kicking out?”, Ev responds without lifting her eyes from the jug of lemonade, “it did”. She is busy poking slices of orange with a rosemary stem.

Anais watches Ev’s face, clearly expecting her to continue. But she does not. The silence between them is interrupted only by clicking of the ice cubes against the glass. Anais tilts her head to the side and says in a careful tone, “But you seem to be more angry today.”

Ev stabs the slice of blood orange she fished out to the liquid’s surface and it splatters the sour juice and bitter oils which make her eyes stink. She blinks a few times and gives the orrange a disapproving frown. “He called the guards,” she says. Her juvenile prank got out of hand. She definitely is not proud.

“What?” Anais’s voice raises in surprise and her paintbrush makes an uneven stroke which she rushes to cover.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I don’t understand. Aren’t you a diplomat? They can’t really - “, she pauses thinking of the right word, “- stop you, can they?”

“No, but I can’t necessarily stop him neither”

Anais goes quiet, weighing Ev’s words in her head, while she paints. “So why do you keep on... talking to him?”, she asks finally and waves her brush in the air, “you don’t have to.”

Ev gives her a pointed look and then drops her eyes down, frowning once again. That is a very good question. Why does she keep on talking to him?

For the last few weeks Ev has stuck to the same routine: she comes to the palace daily, enquires a servant politely about the consul’s schedule for the day, finds Valerius, tosses a pile of paper in front of him, takes a seat opposite him and proceeds to picturing herself strangling him. Bare hands. The skin on his neck gets hot and damp with sweat underneath her fingers, his body is struggling against hers while she presses her knee against his chest holding him in place. She squeezes, and squeezes. Sometimes however she would get lost in her own imagination and her hands would slide up, fingers getting buried in the hair, her thumbs tracing delicate lines behind his earlobes. She doesn't know what happens after that, because she guillotines the thought. Those are moments of weakness and are luckily rare. It would be easier if he was ugly, and stupid. But he is pretty much the opposite. Yet another proof that she had no good luck in Vesuvia. After the weakness comes the inevitable irritation, which Valerius seems to sense like a sniffer dog, and before she knows they are engaged in one of their already signature yelling competitions which the servants undoubtedly gossip about in the corridors and kitchens. Ev would be surprised if the whole Vesuvia is not calling her a madwoman by now. Her only hope being that they think even worse things of their consul.

Hating someone is exhausting. Every interaction makes Ev’s blood boil, and her heart beat heavy and bright. Her mind does strange things and she honestly does not remember the last time she thought about something other than making Valerius do what she wants for longer than an hour. She wastes precious minutes of her life on someone who genuinely despises her.

She wishes he did not despise her though. She wishes that there was more to him than being prickish, judgemental asshole, then perhaps this whole thing could be just about bearable. That is why she keeps on talking to him. But Ev cannot tell Anais that because it is the same as admitting that she has lost and that he has won, so she huffs irritably and says “Because it is my job, why else” instead.

“Good to know that you are both as stubborn as mules.” Anais grew up at her parents’ vineyard in the rural part of Venterre and except the times when she talks about wine all her comparisons are based on farm animals and other attributes of country life.

Ev folds her arms. “I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.” Despite whatever is happening in her imagination in the moments of weakness, the idea of having something in common with Valerius, not only an asshole but the surliest man alive, makes her feel irrationally violent.

Anais only hums something to herself. “Anyway, no more of this talk, what are your plans for tonight?” she asks Ev with the trained cheerfulness of a person chatting to customers daily, “You know we are not opening tonight”, she adds, now sounding more concerned than cheerful.

“Because you are going on your adventure date with Theresa and your brother has not come back yet.” Ev waves her hand, “I remember.” She thinks of all the unopened letters on her desk at home and some notes she managed to scoop in her bag from Valerius’s desk in the palace, the risky act which would probably earn her another look from Anais, and adds, “just working”

“Why don’t you go to the theatre? The Goldgrave is doing their first performance since the plague. I think you should still be able to get the ticket at the door.” Anais wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, still holding the brush. “Actually, the guy who runs the show is Theresa’s neighbour, I will have a word with him. I am sure he will let you in for free if you promise to write a review.”

“Why would he want my review?”

“Oh come on! One of the Prakran dignitaries attends their humble performance, that’s like the most international exposure they have ever had!”

“Fine,” Ev says sceptically.

***

The man at the entrance didn’t lie about all the tickets being sold out, the small theatre is full and buzzes with anticipation. Ev had to endure a small torture of exchanging pleasantries with the overexcited theatre director and at least a dozen of guests, who all seems to know Anais and each other, after she introduced herself. But it all paid off and she is now sitting in the three-seat box closest to the stage, probably the most expensive seats in the whole of the theatre.

Ev eyes an empty seat to the far left. The seat next to her is taken by the old lady wearing simple but tasteful clothes and wrapped in the wooly shawl. She smells of the lily-of-the-valley perfume and apple pie. “Excuse me, are you expecting someone? I think the lights are about to go down”, Ev asks, giving the old lady a soft smile.

“Oh no, darling, I am here to watch my husband perform on stage.” She sounds proud. Ev tries to recall the last time somebody called her darling.

“That is really sweet, he must be thrilled to have you here,” she says, and the kindness in her voice is genuine. Ev finds her new neighbour positively charming, in a way only the older generation can be.

“And what is such a lovely young lady doing in the theatre alone?”

Ev shrugs her shoulders playfully. “I am here to keep you company. You have to tell me when your husband comes on stage,” Ev says, returning the smile.

The old lady covers her mouth and her laugh sounds youthful and bright. She is delighted at their little exchange.

That’s it, most people do like me.

The lights dim and just before the performance is about to begin, the curtain behind Ev’s seat moves letting the beam of light in the box and a dark figure walks in. A man, Ev thinks, who appears to be nicely proportioned. She watches temper and agitation in his movement, as he takes his seat silently. Ev thinks about her peculiar company for tonight, as the boxes are usually reserved by the group of guests. Is he here to watch his loved one too? Could he be from the newspaper?

The old lady nudges Ev’s elbow excitedly.

***

Ev has seen this play before. It is a story of the marriage proposal, full of humorous fights between the groom-to-be and his bride. The sweet old lady’s husband plays the father. He is a tall man with fluffy moustache (although those might be fake, you never know in the theatre) and genuine comedic talent. She wonders whether there is an apple pie waiting for him at home. Even through the dark Ev can see the lady looking lovingly at her husband.

Something makes Ev feel strangely out of place here. She bites the tip of her thumb lightly and replays the events of the day, remembering the old lady’s question from before and Anais asking about her plans. Her mind continues wondering and Ev catches herself thinking about what Valerius is doing tonight. The thought makes her stomach twist. Crying himself to sleep, hopefully.

She leans forwards to take a discreet look to her left, hoping to get a better view of the stranger’s face. He is hidden by shadows but the outline of his profile certainly makes her want to see more - high cheekbones, slightly convex nose and angular jaw, query full lips. He looks familiar.

Ev is now leaning so far forward her elbows are pressed on her knees, squinting and trying to recall where she might have seen this profile. She hears the old lady clearing her throat politely, and retreats, reminded of the theatre etiquette. Maybe it is nothing and he is just her type. She has been so busy recently, making plans only to watch them being discarded, thorn to shreds and thrown away, and so consumed by her anger, she did not really pay attention to the other people around. This feels nice and refreshing.

The curtain closes and the audience stands up to applaud. Ev shoots another look at the stranger. Beautiful posture, gloved hands, oh, mysterious. Maybe it would be nice to have plans with somebody like him. Before she can build up excitement about the lights coming up, the mysterious stranger turns around abruptly and disappears behind the curtain. All Ev sees is the flash of white light before her eyes, as empty and boring as her cold sheets back at home. She gets off her seat and runs after him. Maybe she is a madwoman after all. She does not have any plan, frankly, she doesn't even know why she is doing this, so she decides to go for the most obvious thing - she reaches the man’s shoulder from behind and places her hand as softly as she can considering her rush. “Ah excuse me -”, she says slightly breathy, “have we met before?”

The man turns and the disappointment that Ev experiences the very second she sees his face can only be compared to one of a child who unwraps the present only to find out that it is the older sibling’s jumper, in the child’s least favourite colour, the very same jumper the sibling was wearing the day they broke the child’s toy, most definitely on purpose. Ev is sure that she has seen other men in this city but apparently she is that unlucky.

“You,” says Valerius, baring his teeth. His eyes are slits of hatred, like he is contemplating ripping the skin off her. Ev can relate. She wants to punch him in the face. Ev clenches her jaw thinking about all the insults that he is about to throw her way.

“Consul,” she says in her best theatrical tone.

Valerius glances over his shoulder immediately, eyes wide. He does not respond, frantically scoping the corridor, which is starting to fill in with guests. Ev watches his expression and to her surprise there is no usual arrogance in it. This is unlike him. The moment draws her attention to what the consul is wearing - dark navy fitted coat, with discreet design, his long hair tucked in its high collar, cravat, high boots, gloved hands. Very unlike him. Ev studies him more carefully. There is no wine glass. This is getting disturbing.

“Are you incognito or something?”, she asks, snorting with amusement.

“None of your business”, Valerius spits. He reddens a little straight away and throws more nervous glances to his surroundings.

Oh. Tension. This is awkward, and juicy. Ev’s curiosity is officially piqued. The sight of Valerius’s discomfort is revitalising. She can feel blood pumping through her body and there is sparkle in her eyes. She smirks at him, even though he studiously avoids her gaze. Sensing the tiny hint of vulnerability just at the edges of his expression, she locks her arms around his and with the push of her hip turns them both away from the building crowd of chatting guests. “So you are incognito.” Ev really can't hide her excitement.

Both his eyebrows ratchet up, and Valerius opens his mouth as his eyes go wild, but he does not seem to be able to say a word. This is wonderful. A sensation of pure elation floods Ev. She has been dreaming about this day. She presses her body closer to Valerius and sinks her nails into his arm, like a cat toying with prey. She is thinking about this new power she has got.

Valerius looks down at Ev. “Your face looks… filthy”, he says and tries to shake her off. “Let me go. Now”

“No way. You can try screaming for help if you want.” This is the first time Ev has got the upper hand, and however little, she is not letting this opportunity slip.

“You are insane.” Valerius pulls his arm closer to his body, protectively.

Ev ignores him, right now she is busy thinking. “I know!”

“That you are insane?”

“You are stingy,” Ev says with the look of triumph in her eyes.

“What?!”

“Look, there is only one explanation. You came to the theatre once, they asked you for donations because everybody knows you are filthy rich but you refused, again and again, and now you are hiding. ”

“It is not the case.” Valerius makes another attempt to shake her off, but the sight of the theatre director walking their way through the crowd makes him stop. He turns away.

“So explain yourself then, dear consul”, Ev whispers in his ear, her voice full of venom. The group of guests walks right past them without giving them any attention. They must look like a couple, Ev realises, and eases her grip on his arm.

“No,” Valerius says sternly.

Ev stares at him for a moment, considering her options. “Fine, but you owe me”, she says simply.

“I owe you nothing”, he barks back.

“You know I am going to make a scene, maybe even mention you in the review which I kindly agreed to write for the local newspaper”

Valerius’s mouth twitches once and Ev can almost hear him gritting his teeth. At least, the man knows how the gossip works. “What do you want? How much?” The look he gives Ev is both smug and irritated.

“You are not the only one with the money here”, she makes her voice sound bored. It’s not the first Ev’s negotiation.

“I won’t ask you again, witch.” His voice is rough with anger but he bites it quicker than she expected.

“We can discuss tomorrow. I promise, it is just a small favour.”

Valerius does not say anything. He rubs the bridge of his nose and turns towards the exit, forgetting that Ev is still hanging on his arm.

“So, you like theatre?” she asks curiously as they leave together.

[p1nkwitch]

Just wanted to drop this cause im tired.

Enjoy some lonelyeyes reincarnation au in a coffee shop.

Peter works.

Its not something that particularly bothers him much. His sister laughs and jokes around with him, while moving around serving her orders.

Their cafe is small and cozy but also sort of lonely, they have the oddest shifts imaginable, mostly working the graveyard shift.

Peter cooks the pastries while Judith and Aaron take the orders and serve the food. Clara has her music show on fridays and Lydia works at the art gallery but spends most of her time helping around as well.

The five of them are happy.

Simon was happy to help them pay for the Tundra Cafe. He hums under his breath while Judy sings along, there weren't that many people so they could do it without shame.

He is content.

…

At least he thinks he is. And honestly why shouldn't he? He has a good job, he has a good relationship with all his siblings, his adoptive dad loved them unconditionally.

By all means he should be nothing but happy.

And yet.

He feels… as if something was missing.

It was like an itch that he could not get over with.

It probably started back when he got a crush in one of his college professors that he realized-

That he really was missing something important.

Mister Wright was older than him sure, but he was handsome and Peter wasn't one to care much about age. However, the few times they spoke it was-

It was like there was something not right, it soured him somehow, but perhaps it was for the best, the man was married and he just had a stupid silly crush. It still did not take away the fact that he felt as if there was something off with him too.

He thinks his eyes should be a clearer grey than they were.

The next time he realized something was off was when he met Elias Bouchard.

Again it was embarrassing how quickly he seemed to get a crush on him, he just saw him a few times and his mind got stuck on his face. He was handsome and this time he was around his age. They had a few classes together so despite his anxiety he actually spoke with him.

And it was….

Dull.

He was dull as a wall. It did not lead up to anything else, beyond a few greetings later on, but it stayed on his mind.

Any other attempt at dating or going out turned out badly for him and its not as if he didn't try! It just was never… right.

Clara said that if he kept looking for the perfect person he would die alone and miserable. Lydia hits her and tells him that its ok, sometimes people don't click, he just needs to find someone who gets him.

He tries, but between his social anxiety, personality and perhaps his lack of interest in sex during the best of times, people are more or less put off with him. His sisters and brother are all offended on his behalf but Peter has resigned himself to not think too much about it.

Maybe he is like Lydia and he is better off alone.

That makes all of them look at him with tight faces and he blinks confusedly at them.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just, you have us and dad Peter you're not alone” Judy holds his hand and Aaron nods.

“I- i know, i just meant like relationship wise, maybe i just have to be alone. I know I have all of you. We live in the same building block. I don't think we could be alone if we wanted” That makes them all sort of laugh and the tension breaks.

His siblings talk and joke and he ponders.

He wonders why sometimes they all act weird with him when he speaks about being alone. Why his adoptive dad always made sure to let them know he loved them. Simon was fun and took care of them, but it always felt as if he wasn't saying something.

However he sees his family be happy around him and he ignores that feeling of wrong that always permeates around him. He won't dampen their happiness with his own pessimistic thoughts and paranoia.

So yes, Peter bakes, makes models of ships on his free time, takes pictures a lot-

He found out he enjoyed keeping pictures of things he liked, plus taking odd ones of his siblings. It was just… harmless fun, more often than not he went to the port to take pictures of the ships. He wondered how it would feel to have his own.

Still that's a dream for someone else.

Peter Fairchild is happy with the quaint little life he has.

It stands to reason that his life would be upturned on a Tuesday, Peter has a personal hate towards that day of the week and it makes sense that this happened then.

Aaron was running late, he had to help a friend move out and it took longer than expected, the cafe opened earlier than usual and there were a lot of people. Judith could not take all the orders on her own, and their sisters would not be able to help at least for another hour. So with a sigh and discomfort he goes to take orders.

They work faster like that at least.

Its when he asks about the order of some guy working on his laptop that he gets hit with something familiar.

“One black coffee and a chocolate croissant” The order rings alarm bells on his head so he looks to the face of the owner.

A man with curly auburn hair, red glasses and freckles gives him a practiced strained smile that he sees in more clients, but what actually makes him almost drop the paper he was writing on was the eyes, they were such a cool shade of grey.

He flounders and the man raises an eyebrow impatiently, so he writes quickly and goes back to get order. She gives him a puzzled look since she is usually the one taking them to the customers, but Peter shakes his head and works.

His hands move on autopilot to make the coffee, and even if he says black he puts just the right amount of milk and sugar that his mind provides.

Picking up one of the freshly made croissants and after hesitating a chocolate chip cookie he goes and gives it to the man quietly and without a word. That done and his sweaty palms and his heart going faster he goes to hide in the kitchen, expecting to get yelled at for messing up the order-

But nothing happens.

Judith comes to check on him, but Peter was at that point just cleaning up a little bit and waves her away. Nodding she hesitates and hugs him a little bit before going out. He lets out a breath and sighs.

Lydia and Clara come 10 minutes later and he can stay cooped out in the kitchen in peace. Still he can't help but to be nervous about the customer he gave the coffee and cookie.

Why did he change his order? It was insignificant but it just sounded right. Fretting a little he finishes cleaning the plates. Nothing else comes about and by the time they close the man is gone.

The feeling of loss becomes stronger.

He doesn't see him again for at least another 3 weeks, in fact the only reason he realizes is because Clara says there is a sour red head giving her and Judith the stink eye every time they try to get his order. His lips twitch upwards and he suggests sending Aaron, she rolls her eyes but asks the younger boy to go.

Its not five minutes later that he comes back just as perplexed.

“Is he trying to just get the wifi for free? I'm going to kick him off” Peter dries his hands and quietly prepares the order. Once he is done he sneaks out and delivers it to him, the man gives him a critical look that sends shivers down his spine. Both in disgust and familiarity.

“I didn't order yet”

“... Well you didn't let anyone take your order anyways” His lips purse in thought and he picks up the drink taking a sip. He puts the rest of his things down and goes to turn around to leave, when he asks how did he know how he takes his coffee.

Peter doesn't have a clue.

“You just looked like you needed something less bitter” He sees his mouth fall open slightly and Peter goes while feeling his ears burn, oh god why did he say that?

Once back in the safety of the kitchen, Judy gives him a look but pats his shoulder and goes out.

Ok, ok, he is fine.

The man keeps coming and refuses to let any of his siblings pick out his orders. So Peter is the one in charge to talk with him. Albeit that is an understatement. They merely snark a little, he gives him his order and goes. Whoever is working that day is supposed to charge him, Peter is only obligated to present the food. However the interesting thing is, that just as their cafe opens at weird hours of the day, the man appears there just as well, its kind of eerie how well he seems to know when it's open considering they have the oddest schedules.

Its in fact in one of those times they work at night that he sees him again. Usually he is very put together, but this time he looked… well messy. His hair looked as he had run his hands through it several times, his eyes were red and puffy and he honestly looked miserable.

Peter was completely baffled, the worst part is he wasn't sure what to do, or if he should say something.

The place was almost empty, his sister was keeping watch, so he just stands there and asks what he wanted that night.

He looks up to him and Peter has that feeling that this man should not be looking like this, he should be smug or sure of himself not… whatever this was. He also wanted to pull him towards him and that thought made his cheeks heat up.

“Just- heh, just surprise me i guess. Its been… its been one of those days” He is not sure what he means, but he nods and goes to make him something. Most of the names of the drinks and desserts were Lydia's ideas, the rest of his siblings alongside him were terrible at picking names. He is surprised they even let him pick the one of the cafe, but considering the other options, it was the least weird one.

Still they do have some that they chose for the orders.

Case in point.

The chocolate tower cake lovingly named the panopticon and his special coffee the watcher. It was named like that when it was proven that it had so much caffeine that it made you unable to sleep. He is sure he saw a guy stop blinking for like five minutes after insisting on drinking it, despite the warnings.

So once he grabs it, he takes it to the table and warns him.

“We are not responsible for the repercussions of drinking the watcher” The man looks at him and for the first time since he started to come he sees him smile, soon it turns into laughter. Peter watches while clutching the tray and feeling butterflies in his stomach.

He has a lovely laugh.

“What- what is so funny?”

“You- i- it doesn't matter. I get the name now I suppose. The cake?” The small chocolate tower had several fillings and it was very spongy and full of chocolate.

“Mm the panopticon is the best cake we have, surprised you didn't try it before little man” The slip up comes and he freezes expecting the man to say something or get annoyed, but all he does is sigh and smile more sadly at him.

“Thank you” Its weird and he is unsure what happened but he smiles back awkwardly.

He doesn't come back for 2 weeks.

Its raining when he sees him again.

It was Lydia and him and the place only had two clients sitting around drinking and talking amicably. He doesn't pay attention to the little whistle that lets them know someone entered, Simon thought it would be more fun than a bell.

Still his older sisters comes inside looking-

Frazzled?

Lydia is the most calm out of all of them so he immediately goes to see if she is fine, instead she shakes her head and points inside the cafe.

When he looks he sees the man, but he also realizes he has an awful bruise on his eye and chin as if someone had punched him. His heart sort of seizes and his sister goes out with him.

“Are you-”

“I want another watcher and panopticon” He doesn't let him finish, he is sitting close to the register. The man looks even more tired and wiped out.

“... I will get it?” Lydia elbows him. “Do you- do you want some ice for your face?” He can feel his sister disappointment and need to hit her forehead, but he honestly doesn't know what to say. The man, and he really needs to get a name, nods, so Peter prepares the order and gets some ice wrapped up for him.

“Thank you”

“You are welcome um..-?” He drifts and the man looks at him with one eye squinting due to the swelling.

“Jonah. In Jonah Magnus” He seems to be expecting something, yet Peter just nods.

“Peter Fairchild pleasure to meet you?” Lydia is giving him looks. Jonah seems to deflate, but smiles a little, albeit is tainted by the grimace of pain.

“Now that we have names can i eat?” He scowls but nods and lets him be. Still he checks on him from time to time and everytime he peeks from the kitchen window he sees him staring back at him. Peter blushes and works.

He leaves and he is left with questions.

Lydia acts very oddly and concerned about him and the man, but he waves her off.

Jonah comes back, still with the bruises but he looks more calm.

“I wanted to apologize for the scare, I had an altercation with… a friend. That went poorly as you can see” Peter nods and gives him his cookies.

“So- um.. I was wondering if perhaps as a… you know, treat for being so nice, you would like to go out to eat? Or well i was going to suggest getting some coffee but i think you might already be tired of it by now” It takes him a few seconds to realize he is asking him out. When he does he chokes on air and after thinking it a little he nods.

He sees Jonah smile become more real and realizes he was concerned he would say no. He also sees his cheeks start to slowly become more pink the more he stares. So he looks elsewhere and says they can pick a date later. Jonah nods, grabs the writing pad from his hands brushing their fingers and puts up a number.

“So we can arrange it more easily” Peter nods and laughs nervously while walking away. He feels them tingle pleasantly.

“YOU HAVE A DATE!!”

“With the weirdo Ju, i'm sure Peter can do better than him-”

“Cla don't be mean, plus he said yes so he is interested-!”

“That he is interested doesnt mean its good for him Aaron!”

“Don't be so sour-”

Lydia sits with him and they just watch TV calmly while the others talk in the kitchen making dinner. It was Saturday so they were having it in her apartment.

“Do you think it will make you happy?” The question is too particular, but his sister is always like that so he nods.

“It feels… right, more real than anything i suppose, i know its weird but i just…” He just sometimes feels as if he is sort of existing in some sort of empty space and that everything is his imagination.

Life is good. He has siblings that love him, a dad that cares for all of them instead of their original family that was terrible.

Peter has a job-

Life is perfect.

And yet-

This man is more real than anything else.

Like a splash of color in his grayscale world, he is infuriating with his answers when they have small talks at the cafe, but the banter is familiar, it gives him an ache that doesn't understand.

The same ache he thinks he got when he met James and Elias, only this time its because its right. Jonah is right. He is put out of his musings by a hand on his arm.

“I get it Peter… i really do. As long as you are happy its fine. Just… just know that we love you ok? Don't forget it” He tilts his head and sighs before giving her sister a side hug, the top of her head is a little below his collarbone, so he kisses it and says that he could never.

They meet up to actually have lunch.

Its… its nice.

Jonah is a little bastard and they spend time judging and betting on the people around. He also learns more about him.

He is working mostly in management, which he thinks suits him way too well, he seems bossy enough.

“Rude!” He grins at him and feels…

At ease.

The man likewise seems far more calmer and happy, it makes him oddly happy to see him like that.

They keep going out, sometimes for lunch, sometimes they get coffee somewhere else. But they do and the more he gets to hear him talk, the more he feels as if he had always know him, but just could not remember it. Sometimes Jonah seems that he knows him too and its sort of perplexing. Clara would say he stalked him, but its- there are such small things that its not possible for him to know, even if he had.

Its at their 6 date that he asks him to eat at his place. He looks surprised but nods.

When he opens the door and sees him, he almost stammers a holy fuck, he barely manages to get a hold of himself. Jonah looked-

Handsome, so so handsome. It sort of fried his brain a little bit.

So he lets him and tries to finish cooking to distract himself from saying something stupid or embarassing like-

Marry me.

No, no he is not that stupid.

Still Jonah offers to help and they work in tandem and it is such a familiar feeling he is left breathless.

They move as if they both already were used to having the other in their space, its… nerve wracking. Peter wants to know why.

The dinner is delicious and they end up curling on the couch watching tv, Jonah is using him as a giant pillow and Peter can't complain, the weight on top of him actually makes him feel comforted and also sleepy…

He sees the man yawn and before thinking it better asks if he wants to crash here since its late and they are both tired. Jonah blinks at him and he sees him hesitate, so he assures him he won't take it bad if he says no, it was merely a suggestions and-

He laughs and nods before hiding his face on the crook of his neck. He lets out a breath almost as if punched and feels his cheeks warm up while grinning like an idiot.

Once they change and he offers the man a shirt that hangs a little bit too loosely around his frame they get in bed and Peter sort of… stares, Jonah does the same.

“Hey” His lips twitch.

“Hey yourself” It's not clear which one of them moves first, but the next thing he knows they were kissing. It wasn't rushed or anything merely a press of their lips that sets him aflame inside. God he loves him doesn't he?

He loves-

He-

…

Oh.

Son of a bitch.

He bites his lip lightly making the man complain and then he pulls back.

“You sneaky bastard” He sees him frown and then light up with realization.

“Oh”

“Hello Elias” He frowns.

“Jonah if you don't mind” Peter mulls it over, thinking of James and Elias. It wasn't the body that he wanted.

It was the smug bastard that was piloting it that he loved.

“Jonah” The man shivers “I died” He sees him lock his jaw and close his eyes. How peculiar, he would not have hidden away before or shown… shame for what he can see on his face, he wonders what changed in this life.

Peter sees him swallow.

“You did” Nodding he thinks. He died, there were fear gods, he was a Lukas once upon a time, but now he was a Fairchild even if by adoption.

He grew alone, he grew with his siblings.

He was lonely, he was loved.

Peter sees a small tear escape Jonah along with his body being tightly coiled, as if waiting to sprint out.

The punches make sense now, if someone else remembered...

Letting out a breath and pulling at his hair in thought, Peter closes his eyes too and lets it all go over him. That was a life ago, and now? Now he is here and he was… content, but not happy.

Not until he found him again. Or more like Jonah found him.

Its easy honestly, the answer to what he wants to do with him and this chance.

Peter in his first life had only cared about two things, his god and Elias. One is gone, the other.. changed, but was still the same. The same man he had fallen in love with so many times, and in different ways through the years of their marriages and divorces.

The only one that had some form of hold over his heart.

“Come here my little siren” Jonah’s eyes flash open and he blinks a few more tears away before scrambling to his open arms. Its raining outside and the sound its what they hear beyond their breathing and the beating of their hearst. The lights of the room are dimmed and Peter finally feels right, he pulls the covers up and tangles their bodies together, fitting perfectly together.

Without forsaken he can admit it freely, that he loves this, loves the feeling of Jonah pressed against him, a different body, but also always the same.

He just needs to get used to it again, slowly playing with his hair he speaks.

“You are quite a bastard, but so am i and… as nice as this life is… i think its much better with you in it” Jonah shivers.

“What i'm trying to say is i missed you, even if i didn't remember you before. It was always like there was something amiss. A hole in my perfect little life”

“I-” He smiles tiredly.

“You didn't, i know, but its ok. I know you” Jonah shakes his head.

“I did- i just didn't know it either, i thought it was Barnabas at first, then the others, but… it was you. I missed you Peter, I really did…. Even- even in the apocalypse I still did, I would look into the lonely often. Useless sure, but i did” His plan had worked, but at the same time that was no longer their issue.

“Well I guess we are at an impasse. What do you want to do?”

“... I want- i want to stay, please” He thinks of his apartment, big enough for two.

“You will have to deal with my siblings and Simon, this time we stayed close” He snorts.

“If they don't kick me out, i was… an ass with them” Kissing his forehead Peter laughs.

“You were, but… they are happy for me”

“... then yes i would like to stay”

“Good, Jonah?” He looks up to him again, and Peter sees the eyes are the same, that this time they are right, leaning down he kisses him. They fumble in bed for a long while and when they are both sated and more used to each other's bodies, Peter lets the smaller man hug him from the back to cuddle and finally fall asleep.

“You know one would think you would enjoy the opposite of this-”

“I do, but i missed you, so hush and just sleep” He stays quiet for a little bit.

“Night Peter”

“Night, I love you”

“.... i love you too” He smiles.

In the morning they will make breakfast, Jonah goes to his place and he prepares to work. Once he sees him come in later on during the day he presents to him his order and gets a smile.

They will try to make this life count.

He wonders how long till he moves in with him.

On his way to buy groceries he sees a box with a familiar kitten left to the side of a building and he sighs. Better take his cat to the vet now, food can wait.

His sisters will be ecstatic.

Aaron not so much since he is allergic, but well.

It is his cat.

Life truly is good now.

He got his husband, his cat, family and job.

Humming along with the kitten pawing at his arms softly he feels the most happy as he has ever been.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Greetings From Austin: Part II

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.  

Word Count: 3985

Warnings: a/b/o, bisexuality, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, married life/disagreements, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, surrogacy

*Jensen acting out of character

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: For this part I did some research & delved into a bit of reproductive/genetic testing-please don’t dink me on details, I altered it a bit to fit A/B/O verse.

A/N III:  There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional  A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

Part I

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

One hour later

Jensen sets two sealed cups in the small niche shutting its door and grabs his jacket sliding it on, his inner Alpha purring with satisfaction watching his husband's fumbling fingers working at a button on his shirt, “Need any help babe?”

Jared’s all dilated pupils and glowing cheeks above his thick beard, “I’m good, I'll be out in a few.” Jensen leans in for one more soft, lingering kiss before leaving. Locking the door behind him Jared leans against it, closing his eyes, savoring the last vestiges of his oxytocin high.

He can’t stop recalling that mischievous glint in those luminous green eyes as Jensen slowly licked his plush lips before diving in to kiss him stupid, his long, sinful tongue doing things that’s probably illegal in twenty states, hands with ooh, so thick, talented fingers capable all sorts of magical things.

Shaking himself out of the memory he crossed over to the sink and caught his debauched reflection in the mirror. Shit, he can’t out looking like this.

Turning on the tap cups his hand to catch some of the running water splashing his face to cool off when his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket. Drying his hands and face he pulls it out checking the text. Glancing up he runs a hand over his thick beard, smoothing it down before leaving the room.

Completely preoccupied typing a reply he rounds the corner heading for the doctor's office slamming into a woman knocking her off her feet, the contents of the bag she’s carrying scatter loudly across the floor.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

From her seated position she looks up...and up, his long, long legs clad in low riding jeans barely held up by a loosely buckled leather belt, his shirts rucked-up, a bit of his treasure trail and toned abs flanked by the sharp V of his hip peeking out.

“FuckI’mfuckingsorryFuckdidn’tfuckingsee....”

Jared, embarrassed, keeps apologizing, laced with fuck every other word, squats down gathering scattered items, dropping them back into the bag continuously babbling until she bursts out laughing. “And here I be thinking I said fuck to much,” a subtle lilt in her voice making it sound like she’s saying fook instead.

They move around each other picking up the last of her stuff. Jared reaches for a scarf when the central air catches a few loose strands of her hair, lightly dancing them across his cheek.

He inhales sharply as her piquant scent travels through his system eliciting a rumbling purr deep in his chest, “Fuck..” She breathes out gazing directly into his kaleidoscope eyes, watching mesmerized as they bleed into red with arousal as her eyes flash gold in response.

“I..I..fuck..I’ve gotta go!” She sputters, scrambling to her feet, grabs the bag hurrying away, leaving him holding the scarf.

Lifting the forgotten fabric to his face Jared deeply inhaled her scent, reaching down presses against his cock chubbing up the second time that day. He morosely stares in the direction she fled in once more, a low whine of loss escapes before he tucks the scarf into his back pocket and resumes heading towards the doctor’s office.

Dr. Rodgers, standing just inside in a doorway observing unnoticed, makes a mental note.

***

Jensen watches amused as Jared sits down with a slight wince, a not unpleasant reminder of their recent interlude, teases, “Did I make that much of a mess out of you Jay?”

Jared shrugs with a nonchalant “eh.” Jensen lowers his chin leaning close growling his displeasure at the flippant response, Jared internally shivers knowing he’s gonna pay for it when they get home, much to his delight.

Jensen abruptly stops growling, “You stink like Omega!”

Dr. Rodgers comes in carrying a binder saving Jared from responding, “We’ll get your test results in about two weeks unless we see something that needs further investigation.” He sets down the binder in front of them, opening it to the first page revealing a dossier and picture.

“Now, the next bit is selecting an egg donor. I’m sure you're wondering how we select the donors. I rely on a protein compatibility test, similar to the markers blood test used when matching Alphas and Omegas, narrowing down prospective candidates.

All of our donors are Betas and Omegas. Several of the Betas are willing to be the surrogate too. If you choose to go with an Omega donor we will have the extra step of selecting a Beta surrogate but that’s something to discuss later if needed.

We also take into account your personal preferences when it comes to physical traits, personality, etc. I’ll introduce you to the top three that are the best matches. If for some reason none of them work out, we’ll try the next most compatible candidates.”

Dr. Rodgers clicks his pen, “Let’s get started shall we.”

***

Flipping off the light switch Jensen walks out of the bath to find Jared already asleep. Crossing over to their bed he stopped at his side admiring him.

How had he gotten so lucky to have Jared as his? Over fifteen years since that life changing meeting he was more in love with his mate than ever, the ups and downs in their relationship that could have torn them apart made their marriage stronger.

Jensen took hold of the book Jared had been reading, gently pulling it out of his hand, slid in a bookmark and placed it on the nightstand turning off the lamp.

Easing into his side of the bed he leaned over pressing a soft kiss to Jared’s bare shoulder, who only wore bottoms since he always ran warm. Shifting, Jared buries his face into Jensen's neck, draping a long arm across his chest snuggling close, “Thank you.”

“For what babe?”

“Helping me today,” he could feel Jared’s breath warm against his skin, “I know you're against having more but please don’t decide not to, I want to have pups with you.”

Jensen mentality sighed, he’d be forty-three before they were born and didn’t want to be the old dad. Jared had argued that he'd never be, they knew lots of people were having their families later, look at Reedus, fifty when his daughter came and JDM, he was almost fifty-two when George was born.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll say yes if we find one donor we both agree on,” he felt Jared’s emotions shifting more positive, “but if you like one and me another, I’m not doing it.”

Jared pressed several soft kisses to the side of his neck, “Okay Jen,” he agrees, shifting to lay his head on his shoulder, “we’ll find the one, I can feel it.” he sleepily finishes.

Jensen rests his cheek against the top of Jared's head, not fallen asleep for ages. How was he going to handle Jared’s inevitable disappointment, knowing it will happen since they have always had vastly different tastes in females.

***

Five days later

7:00 A.M.

Jared was up to mile three of his daily workout on the treadmill in his office. He usually ran outside this early in the morning but a surprise thunderstorm altered his plans for the day when his phone rang. He dialed the machine down to walking speed to answer.

“Hello, Mr. Page, this is Sissy from Dr. Rodgers office, I’m sorry to be calling so early. He would like for you to come back in for a follow up about your semen testing.” Jared’s throat tightened, closing off his ability to respond.

He stepped off the machine and sat down on the large leather couch, “Sorry I..what time can I come in?”

“We have an opening at 8:45, will that work?”

“Yes ma’am, I can be there then.”

“Great, we’ll see you in a bit Mr. Page.”

Jared sat back not caring he was getting sweat all over the leather and started his breathing exercise to calm himself, telling his brain to knock it off, surely it wasn’t anything major with how calm Sissy was on the phone.

Ten minutes later he was still anxious but able to handle it. He glanced at his watch and knew he had to get his butt in gear to make the appointment.

Walking into the bedroom he found Jensen softly snoring so he moved as quietly as he could grabbing some clean clothes and headed for the shower. He left a note by the coffee pot saying he had an errand and be back ASAP.

He pulled into the clinics parking lot with five minutes to spare. Tucking his hair into his ever present beanie, Jared slipped on his mask and dashed through the downpour into the clinic.

After being temperature checked, Sissy walked him to the doctor's office. Knocking on the door she opened it and Jared saw the doctor on the phone gesturing for him to come in as he finished his call.

“Hello Mr. Page, thank you for coming in. I wanted to go over a discrepancy the lab found with your test, I'll try not to use too much doctor jargon.” He layed three pages on the table in front of him, a color printout of a sperm DNA strand broke down into segments and the others Jared recognized as chromosome mapping. “These are part of the Alphas sperm DNA sequencing. Normally, this one has a wide band in this segment,” he pointed to a circled area on the right page demonstrating a normal sequence. “This is your sperm's DNA. What I wanted to show you is a variant in the same section,” he circled a column on the left page, “which contains a narrow band instead,” he highlighted one piece of the chain.

“What does it mean?” Jared asked nervously.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t know, I’ve never encountered this variant before. I looked at your previous testing from 2016 and it was also present on that test, not sure why it was overlooked. I’ve consulted with a few colleagues of mine to get their take,” he paused resting his arms on the desk watching Jared’s expression, “Mr. Page, I didn’t ask you to come in to upset you, I prefer to keep my clients in the loop if anything unusual does present with their testing. It’s possibly something that's genetically unique to you and affects nothing. I’d like to run a Tunel test, it’s a sperm chromatin structure analysis, it’ll give us more information to work with.”

Jared fidgeted, desperately wanting to chew on his fingers, “Umm…okay.”

“Good, it's not invasive at all, we just need some more sperm.” Dr. Rodgers says.

~~~

Jensen was stumbling around the kitchen working on his first cup of coffee when Jared walked in carrying a box from his favorite bakery.

“Those aren’t what I think they are?” Jensen asks as Jared sits the box down on the counter. He opens the lid inhaling the scent of decadent cinnamon roll goodness before pulling out one and taking a huge bite moaning pornographically, “Babe, whatever I did to warrant these remind me to do it again,” he says with his mouthful.

Jared chuckles as his mate continues making obscene noises before bending down taken a bit from the other side earning warning snarl.

“You are so not a morning person.” Jared chided sliding the box over to retrieve his own taking it setting down at the island bar pulling a chunk off.

“You wanna share what’s rattling around in that big head of yours?” Jensen inquires. Jared chews slowly before answering. “I got a call from the clinic, something showed up in my test.”

Jensen snapped fully alert, his roll forgotten, and sat down next to him, “Jared, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Jared fiddled with his roll, pulling it apart, “No, not that I’m aware of but they found something off and don’t know what it is. Dr. Rodgers said it’s probably nothing but wanted to run another test to see if he can figure out what it is what if something is wrong and turns out I was the reason Genevieve couldn’t get pregnant I don’t know if I can handle it the possibility of not being able to have pups I’ve wanted them for so long I can’t imagine our lives...”

“Jared,” Jensen sharpness interrupts Jared’s incessant rambling, making him go quiet, “I know you want to go to the worst possible outcome but let’s wait till all the tests are back. If it’s something, we’ll deal, we always do.”

***

August 3rd

“Jen, move your ass, were gonna be late!” Jared bellows from downstairs.

“I’m coming...dammit!” Jensen cursed as he tripped over the boxes left sitting by the bottom step. “You need to get the rest of this shit out of the way, about killed myself again!”

“I’ll stay up tonight moving the rest of this fucking shit if you’ll get a fucking move on!”

The sniping at each other had gotten worse since the house renovations were barely completed before heading back to Vancouver.

Jensen moved his music studio into the newly created space in the basement from the former guest quarters, now relocated to the spacious pool house. The empty upstairs rooms were converted into the eventual nursery/kids rooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them.

“You better start watching your goddamn language cause the last thing we need is for our kids to have a trash mouth like…don’t roll your eyes at me!” Jared threw his arms up in disgust before storming out to the garage getting in Jensen’s truck. They drove to the clinic in silence.

They were flying out tomorrow to quarantine for two weeks before resuming shooting on the eighteenth. Then the clinic called their tests were back and Jared didn’t want to wait till they got back for the results.

After their temperature check they were immediately escorted to the doctor’s office finding him already there. “Mr. Bonham, Mr. Page, pleasure to see you, please have a seat.” They sit next to each other not touching. “Is there something wrong gentleman?”

“Why do you ask?” Jensen barks, “Fuck man, don’t be rude!” Jared bit back earning a glare that makes most sane people back away from Jensen.

“Gentleman, no need to fight. It may surprise you but I actually see a lot of hostility between my clients. I’m sure the added stress of the quarantine while trying to start a family is putting your Alpha instincts more on edge, is it not?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m sorry sir, I was raised better.”

Jared gave an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry too sir, and you're right.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time and understand the situation from your side, my wife and I had trouble conceiving. We ended up having two sets of twins within three years, now that’s stress.”

Jensen blinked, “And I thought mine were a handful.”

Dr. Rodgers laughed, “They are a blessing but honestly, it’s an absolute madhouse at times. So, let’s get back to you two. Mr. Bonham, everything looks good, you are in the top percentile when it comes to mobility and live sperm count for your age group. One of the advantages of being an Alpha, unlike us poor Betas who’s diminish with age.”

“Mr. Page, I also have your results and the Tunel tests which turned out to be something.. unique.”

Jared eyes widened as he paled, his breath hitching, feeling his stomachs spastic tightening making him about vomit. He knew it, he knew something was going to go wrong, his brain didn’t lie to him this time.

Jensen was out of his chair and utilizing his Alpha strength turned Jared’s towards him before kneeling between his legs reaching up to firmly grip the sides of his head forcing him to focus on him opens up his side of their bond he’d shut the other day when they were arguing to gauge how bad this one was.

“Hey Hey, concentrate on me, I need you to breathe with me,” he held Jared’s gaze for several minutes as their breathing cinqued up, feeling him relaxing.

“There you go big guy. It wasn’t that bad, focus on your breathing okay.” Jared nodded embarrassed as Dr. Rodgers sat a bottle of water in front of him, “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

“No, he’s fine, thank you,” Jensen answers, getting up retaking his chair as Jared took a long drink from the bottle, “he’s usually more aware of these attacks but since the damn lock-downs.” Jensen shook his head in disgust, “We're heading back to Vancouver tomorrow to finish our sh..job before his new one starts late October. I guess it’s really hitting us both that it's finally ending.”

“Mr. Ackles, you can say show,” Jared and Jensen stare at him in surprise, “my daughters are fans, I know more about the Winchester brothers than a man my age should.” Dr. Rodgers ruminates, “Mr. Page, are you ready for me to continue?” Jared nodded as Jensen wrapped both of his hands around his free one.

“After I received the results I spoke with a specialist in Alpha genetics. They looked at all your tests and came back with a conclusion I’ve never heard of before.” The doctor laid a printout on the desk, “This is a visual aid to help me in explaining.”

“Chemoattactants are what a female's egg releases to attract the sperm to it. You know how it works from there; sperm meets egg, sperm penetrates egg and viola, fertilization. Alphas sperm has evolved allowing them to inseminate all three sub-genders, whereas male Omegas sperm is sterile since they possess both sets of reproductive organs but only need to utilize one.”

The doctor sets all three of Jared’s tests and the normal example on his desk for them to see, “This chromatin structure you carry Mr. Page,” he points to the highlighted section, “has altered so that the eggs of Alphas and Betas are chemorepellent to your sperm, rejecting fertilization.”

Jared sat still-shocked, blankly staring at the results lying before him, vaguely feeling Jensen reaching across their bond again. “Does this mean he’s...infertile?” He can hear Jensen hesitant inquiry, like he's standing across a vast chasm.

“In conventional terms, yes. This is the reason you were unable to conceive with your previous spouse, being a Beta, and there is still no medical intervention available that would have helped. What’s unique is his sp...”

Jared was numb. His dreams of a little Padackles tearing around their home had literally been salt and burned before his eyes with those test results.

In the recesses of his attention he’s aware of the continuing conversation around him, the longer it goes on, the more his brain is tuning out.

~~~

The first thing he becomes aware of are fingertips caressing his face, softly wiping away wetness damping his cheeks. Slowly blinking the blurry shape in front of him comes into focus.

Jensen is sitting in front of him. More accurately, he’s sitting cross legged in between his own splayed legs on the floor. Jared frowns as his senses are coming back online.

He was sitting on the chair that’s now off to his right so how did he end up with his back against the desk?

“You passed out,” Jensen answers his unspoken question, “and scared the ever-living shit out of me! I thought you were having an aneurysm the way your eyes rolled back into your big head!”

“I..I..don’t know what happened, I was looking at the results, you were asking questions..then nothing.”

“Stress Jared, you are completely stressed out and it's fucking with your illness!” He opens his mouth, “No, I’m not done so be quiet.” Jensen’s voice dropped with his Alpha tone overlaying it,

“Between that final script having you nuts all year, this quarantine fucking up your meds, dealing with your businesses shutdowns, getting Walker started, you had to add pushing for pups, it’s no wonder you couldn’t handle the doctor explanation of...”

“Explanation of what?” Jared lashes back in own Alpha voice, leaning forward into Jensen’s space, his eyes flashing red, “That I’m infertile, sterile, shooting blanks..”

“Shut that fucking mouth for two minutes or I swear I’ll deck you.” Jensen’s normally warm green eyes bleed into a fierce red, becoming hard.

Jared’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. They had gotten into plenty of arguments over the years, gotten in each other’s faces a few times but this was a first. Jensen had never, ever threatened physical harm.

Well, somewhat that time Misha set him off during a panel and he went for him afterwards. Misha stupidly goaded him again before Jensen gave him a shove, ordering him to cool off before he had to do something.

Jensen’s jaw ticked as he mentally counted to ten, “Dr. Rodgers said that you couldn’t impregnate another Alpha or Beta right?”

“Right.”

“The part you zoned out is that your sperm wants to only fertilize an Omega’s eggs.”

Sighing heavily, Jensen crawls over a leg to sit against the desk next to him. Jared pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees processing this information as Jensen reaches over and gently rubs his hand in random patterns over his back.

They had mutually agreed on a Beta donor. Now this threw a wrench in the plans.

“Maybe this is a sign we’re rushing into this again. Let’s take a step back and consider all our options.” Jared’s muscles stiffened under his hand.

“I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping.”

“Wait...what?”

Jared lifted his head, “I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping. I realize this isn’t what you want so don’t worry, I’m not gonna hold you to our agreement.”

Jensen exhaled sharply knowing when Jared spoke in that tone, that was it, end of discussion, mind made up.

Jared gets up, “I’m going to find Dr. Rodgers and see if he's still willing to help me. If you want to leave, go. I’ll get an Uber when I’m done.” He walks out quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck!” Jensen closed his eyes thumping his head back against the desk. He knew he had screwed up and there was only one way to make it right.

***

Jensen asked Jared to let him stay, he was wrong for saying that and he'd be open to one of the Omegas as a possible donor too. Jared wasn’t completely appeased but he was happy Jensen didn’t take the out given him.

The three candidates were smart, attractive, lovely scented Omegas in their twenties that any Alpha looking for a prospective mate would seriously consider, leaving Jensen wanting something else.

“I like aspects of all three Jay, but honestly, I'm not feeling it with any of them.”

“Maybe you’ve reached the stage you’re looking for more substance, less aesthetic.”

“Did you just call me old?” Jensen gaped at his husband.

Before Jared responds, Dr. Rodgers enters, “I see from your expression Mr. Bonham that you haven’t decided on a candidate.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like any of them, there isn’t a..”

“Connection. It’s normal, just because your Alpha doesn’t mean you..desire every Omega you cross paths with. With some it takes time to find the right one.” He looks at his watch.

“We’re at the end of our appointment but I have one more donor I’d like you to meet today. She’s doesn’t exactly fit your personal physical preferences but this omega is...special..and she’s willing to be the surrogate too.”

The doctor opens the door gestures to someone. They stand up to greet her and as she enters they are enveloped by her piquant scent.

“Mr. Page and Mr. Bonham, this is Quinn.”

***

tbc

Part III

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

SPN: @donnatix @lyarr24

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

[chuuyas--boo]

The "Judge" and The Sinner.

Tw: Violence, language, murder, Self harm

(Partially based off of 3 episodes of Angels of Death; Episode 4: A sinner has no right of choice, Episode 5; Don't let me kill you just yet, and Episode 6; Zack is the only one who can kill me. Some torture methods will be skipped over/changed slightly because most human beings can't endure all of the torture Zack and Rachel (Mostly Zack cause he's an idiot) went through without dying.)

The elevator doors opened and Riley slowly walked out onto B3, immediatley noticing the machine guns mounted on the walls, as if the last floor wasn't difficult enough; Running from the sweet but obsessive and insane ginger haired grave-keeper; Eddie.

A single bullet was fired from one of the guns, just barley missing Riley's arm causing her to stumble back, just as more bullets were fired rapidly, getting closer until they stopped, only inches away.

"Great...trying to fill me with bullet holes huh?"

"Hiii~! Terribly sorry I'm late! It took you so long to get here...I nearly dozed off! Still...I'm surprised you weren't killed just now! You sure have incredible intuition dear~"

"What..."

"Y'know something? I had a feeling you'd be a great sinner~! ...I must've needed some excitement cause that woke me right up!" "That's great and all miss...but I don't really care...Could you just let me through...?"

"I supposed I can do that~"

Bright lights shined on Riley and she narrowed her eyes so it wasn't so harsh.

The iron bar door slid open and Riley walked through, and walked down the hallway to a room with locked doors.

"You said you'd let me through..." her voice was calm yet slightly irritated.

"My~ You're so impatient! At least let me finish putting on my makeup!"

Riley let out a huff of annoyance.

"There's a certain procedure each criminal must go through before their punishment is assigned~ If I were you, I'd start getting ready now. In fact I'll even open up a room for you~"

One of the doors unlocked and Riley went in.

(ignore the fact Zack and Rachel are there, it's a room with the mugshot board(?), a camera, and a table with a bin with the name boards)

"Every legitimate criminal has a mugshot, right~? Take a pretty one for me! ...Oh and it's not a proper mugshot without your name board, of course~"

Riley walked over to the table, grabbed her name board out of the bin which said "Riley Morgan" on it, in letters that looked as if they were painted with blood...which wouldn't be surprising if it WAS blood.

"How am I supposed to do this by myself..."

Riley huffed, and moved the camera closer to the wall, hung the name board around her neck and quickly took a picture, narrowing her eyes slightly at the flash.

"There..."

Taking the name board off and tossing it to the side, Riley grabbed the photo and held it up towards the security camera, and the iron bars slid out of the way.

Walking out of the door; into another hallway, but this time with poorly drawn images of what seemed to be torture methods.

"They're illustrations of punishments I designed, for sinners just like you~! I'll give you a choice,...there's more than one way to punish a sinner you see~, So I've got a variety of painful options waiting for you! Of course...if you'd rather spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell...it's always on the table~!"

"What kind of pathetic person would decide to rot forever..."

"Oh~? Too bad...and here I was hoping I'd get to keep you forever! ahahah~!"

Silently Riley walked into one of the rooms, filled with dolls...life size wooden dolls in rows of chairs...with what looked to be an electric chair in the front. "She- She's really trying to fry me to death!"

But suddenly the iron bars slid open.

"Ahaha~! I know you wouldn't survive that kind of punishment! I'd like to see a little sinner like you suffer for longer~ So I ever so kindly let you through!"

Riley hesitated before walking out of that room, into another hallway, with a door that had a warning sign on it. "Doesn't seem like the best of ideas...but it's the only chance I've got"

Opening the door open, Riley imagined sitting in the electric chair and being shocked over and over until she eventually died and shuddered, once inside the door locked behind her. "Great..., as if it wasn't bad enough to be locked in here, it really stinks!" scrunching her nose at the smell, she noticed a corpse in the middle of the room.

Sighing, Riley walked over to one of the blood stained windows, pulled her knife out of her pocket and bashed the handle against the window as hard as possible, but nothing happened, not even the slightest crack.

The TV's in the room turned on, showing Cathy.

"Hiiii~! Did you miss me dear?"

"Like the plague." Riley said flatly.

"Let me give you an explanation of the room you're in right now! And you'd better listen closely if you want to live. I got a little carried away with the design~ It's completely sealed, making it impossible for air to get in or out! The window glass has been reinforced, so you won't be able to break it! And the best part...I'm about to fill it with something veryyy special! If you stay in there long enough, you'll be on your way to a nice, peaceful death. It's poison gas~! Obviously I wouldn't confine you to a place like that with no way out...in fact, here's a gift~ I've mercifully provided a gas mask! As long as you do your best, of the utmost faith you'll escape! Oh, and of course I think it'd be a bit boring if I let you sit in there forever, so I've added a time limit! I knowwww~ I'm sooo thorough! After your time runs out you'll be given another gift! A gas so potent the mask won't do any good against it! That's all for now, have yourself a good time in there, and try not to die, okay~?"

Sighing, Riley glanced at the gas mask in the middle of the floor as the poison gas began to flow into the room, noticing the cracks in the eye lenses "Yeah...that won't be all that helpful..." and then walked over to the corpse on the floor and crouched down.

"There's writing..."

Riley gently shoved the body out of the way and read it

"The one with the ugly foot, the foolish killer who stomped out life with the right foot..."

Pausing as the writing got more difficult to read Riley huffed and then continued.

"It says something like...if you feel guilty get rid of your right foot, if the crime and punishment are equivalent, light will shine in hell."

Riley hesitated before grabbing the right foot, and walked over to the scale and placed it on one side, then grabbed the bag that was placed on the table and set it on the other side of the scale and watched as it balanced out.

The gas started to get to her, and Riley started coughing as it got harder to breath, quickly running over to the gas mask and putting it on, despite the cracks in it, it'd be better than nothing. The gas mask helped a little, but made it harder to see.

"This is stupid! Why the hell bother providing something if it's only going to make it harder you sadistic bitch?!"

Letting out a sigh of frustration Riley looked around hoping something had happened, and noticed the safe in the corner of the room had opened slightly, inside was a wire and a key card. Grabbing both, Riley walked over to where the key card would be inserted and put it in.

The gas stopped slowly and Riley smiled to herself, glad she had figured it out.

"My, my~ What a smart sinner you are~!"

"You're the one that made me come in here in the first place..."

"And you're the sinner who got yourself into this place~! You coulddd chose to rot in a cell~ It's still an option on the table dear~"

"Like I'd decide to do that! I'd rather die immedatley."

"My, my~ someone's eager to be punished for her sins~!" "Not like I can leave this floor till I'm "punished" anyway..."

Cathy laughed as Riley walked out of the room, down a hallway very slowly, the gas still taking its toll. Eventually she sat down against a wall where the cameras wouldn't see her and fell asleep.

Waking up with a jolt, Riley shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts from the nightmare. Getting up and slowly down the hall, into a room with a smashed doll house, half expecting to be required to do something, she sighed and glanced at the TV in the room.

"I'll let you pass through this one~ I didn't know enough about you to mentally torture you so you're lucky!"

"and you said I took a long time to get here, in that time you could've figured out more about me, but why would you want to? I'm just an ugly, pathetic, useless, boring bitch."

"Oh~? I don't think you're boring! You're actually quite an interesting sinner~ You're smart and I like that about you~ You remind me of that gorgeous sinner; Eddie~!" Not knowing if that was a good thing or not, Riley slowly walked down another hallway, separated in two by a wall in the center with barbed wire on the top, stopping at the table. The door up on the ledge opened and Cathy stepped out.

"How nice to finally meet you in person~!" Riley just gave her a cold glare "You gonna let me through or not?" "My! You shouldn't be so rude to a pretty lady like me~! In order to continue, you must inject yourself with those syringes, one contains vitamins and the other contains dangerous drugs!" "Which is which?" "AHAHAHAHA~!! It doesn't matter! I won't tell, besides I forgot~! Once you inject every last drop I'll gladly open up the door for you! You might wanna hurry though...or else someone you love will die~" and with that, Cathy went back the way she came.

"Great...this could kill me, I'll probably die anyway..."

Grabbing both syringes, Riley looked at them; one of them contained green liquid and the other was yellow, but the colors didn't give any hints as to which was the vitamins and which was the drugs, it wouldn't matter since she'd have to inject both. Quickly Riley injected both into her arm, tossed the empty syringes to the side and the door opened.

"Stupid bitch...my heads pounding..." Riley stopped in the dim hallway and leaned against the wall with her hands against her head.

The so called "dangerous drugs" just brought out the voices in her head, telling her to kill someone, or something and they only got more persistent by the second.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Riley's voice had gone shrill, laced with insanity as it echoed through the dark empty hallway.

Continuing to walk down the hall as the voices got more and more persistent until she walked into a large room and the door slammed shut behind her, locking.

"Glad you could finally join your sister and I~! It took long enough..." There was a girl standing in the middle of the room with long dark brown hair and blueish green eyes.

"What does she have to do with this? I want nothing to do with her! She left me and Jack, and Jack died!!"

"Oh~, you don't want revenge~? All those voices in your head telling you to kill her but you just can't? Maybe you aren't as great of a sinner as I thought..." The brunette glanced at Riley "R-Riley don't...please..."

"Oh but why not!? Huh? WHY NOT LEXI!? Why shouldn't I? You left us alone, and Jack died. Why shouldn't I rip your throat out right here right fucking now?! So you can go be pathetic somewhere else? Nahhh~ I'll kill you myself, slowly and painfully and see how you like it!"

Fear shined in Lexi's eyes as Riley stepped closer

"Scared~? You should be!" Cathy laughed as she watched the two

"AHAHAH~!! I've provided you with a gun as well~ Kill her as you'd like!" Riley grabbed the gun and pointed it right at Lexi's head.

"You could've avoided this y'know? But you didn't...and now you'll pay for it!"

"RILEY PLEASE!" "You're gonna beg to live? Pathetic. If you're gonna beg, do it right, you don't look nearly as pathetic as he did." "W-wh-who d-did?" "You don't know? AHAH! Go on~ Tell her~!" Riley shot a cold glance at Cathy, enough to make her shut up, temporarily. "You're clueless...Jack? Yeahhh...I did it. I killed him." "YOU WHAT?"

Lexi attemped to grab the gun out of Riley's hand only to have it pressed to her chest.

"He begged me to, so I did." "You whore-" "Do you WANT me to pull this trigger? The trigger that'll end your pathetic existence?"

"Do as you please...it doesn't matter anymore..." Riley pulled the trigger but nothing happened.

Cathy giggled and then bursted out laughing.

Silently Riley pulled the knife out "You'll die one way or another~" and pointed it at Lexi's throat.

"Please...-"

Without saying anything, Riley took the knife and slid it across her arm, blood gushed down her arm but she seemed unbothered.

Silently Cathy got up, and walked down the stairs to where the siblings are "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE KILLING HER!" "Did I say I wasn't going to..?" The drugs would've worn off at this point, but because Riley was younger and smaller they hadn't yet, without hesitating she flicked the knife back towards Lexi

"RILEY PLEASE! Can't you hold back?" "Hold back!? IF I COULD I WOULDN'T BE HERE!" "Sinners can't control their bloodlust~ Just accept it!" Lexi stepped back only to stumble and fall

"Get up. Now." Lexi didn't get up, so Riley grabbed her arm and jerked her up making her stand up and quickly plunged the knife into her stomach over and over, blood gushed out and covered the floor around them, Cathy laughed as Riley plunged the knife deeper every time until she stopped and Lexi's body fell to the floor, limp and dead.

"My, my~ You ARE a great sinner~ Now you'll get your punishment~!"

Riley just glared at Cathy silently, her eyes seeming cold and dead.

Without warning the 4 guns in the corners of the room began firing, not knowing what to do, Riley ducked hoping they'd stop before they got to her, unfortunately they didn't and one shot her in the leg.

"You'd look great filled with bullet holes~" Collapsing on her knees, Riley glared up at Cathy "So would you" and pointed the gun at her, forgetting nothing had happened when she pulled the trigger last time.

"Go on~ Shoot me~!" "Why are you so eager to be shot?"

"Just do it! Unless....you aren't as great of a sinner as I thought~" Riley pointed it at Cathy's head and pulled the trigger but nothing happened "AHAHAHA~!! Foolish of you to think I'd actually give you a loaded gun!"

Despite the blood gushing from the bullet wound, Riley shakily got up "So...are you gonna kill me or..." "No. A sinner like you is much too interesting to be killed~!"

Riley sat on the floor, watching blood pool around her, and her sisters dead body in silence.

[roro-mo]

Love can wait

Hi all,

i posted this fanfic on fan fiction.net in the New Year and thought I should share this on tumblr for those who are looking for more ZoNa, just like me. You can find this here.

This was one of my first fanfics but I haven’t updated the story in like forever so am looking to go back to writing fanfics. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy the chapter as much as I did. 

You don��t need to read the other chapters as they are not really connected - sort of. We haven’t entered the main plot at all so not connected as of yet. But reading chapter 6 may help you understand some of the things in this chapter. 

Summary: What if Zoro and Nami were childhood friends? How different would their lives be? Lot's of one shots set in an AU where Zoro and Nami are childhood friends. Mugiwara crew will also make an appearance. (It’s one of those close balcony friendship - cringe i know lmao, was young when I started LOL)

Rated: M (just to be safe) 

Disclaimer: One piece is not mine.

Also, Italics are what the characters are thinking. 

Zoro was completing his usual workout, but from home. He groaned, lifting the 15 kg weights for the 96th time. He needed to lift the weights 4 more times and he had to do it soon or Nami was going to barge in, ruining his schedule.

"97...98...99" he counted. He was lifting it for the last time when he smelt her signature fragrance.

"100" he grunted, dropping the weights and closing his eyes in peace. He felt her soft bosom on his back and her arms around him, as she completely pushed her body against him.

A single trail of sweat dropped from his temple to his cheek from the work out. He was too tired to push her away so he stood still, just breathing in and out to stabilise his heartbeat. However, this proved to be difficult as he could only smell her with every breath, and felt her soft small hands on his abs...wait... did he just feel her hands underneath his shirt?

"What the hell witch?" he spat, as his hands automatically stopped hers from outside of his shirt.

Nami was a flirt and loved teasing men, especially Zoro. She loved taking advantage of her beauty and loved getting her way. It was either her way or the highway. She was a greedy witch and she loved every part about it.

"Zoroooo" she said with a tone, a tone Zoro knew too well. It was a tone she used to get her way. A tone that often worked in nosebleed kun, which was not going to work on him.

"Seriously, what are you doing Nami?" he said, turning his head slightly to see what Nami was up to.

"I'm helping you remove your top." She said trying to move her hands, which was useless as Zoro clutched onto them.

"What do you want?"

"To eat." Nami said cheerfully. Today both their parents were out drinking while Nojiko was at university so it was only him and her. But their parents trusted them, hell they even encouraged to utilise their alone time and do something naughty. Nami's stepfather, Genzo, loved Zoro's wisdom and the way he respected elders. He would want nothing but for Zoro to take his no good spoilt daughter as his wife. While Zoro's father loved having Nami around and would be happy if someone, anyone could accept his muscle idiot of a son.

"And what does eating have anything to do with getting naked?" Zoro said with an eyebrow.

She withdrew her hand from underneath his t-shirt, away from his well built abs. Zoro was saddened at the departure of her warmth but was glad at the same time.

She pinched her nose, "well you kinda stink."

"Hurry and go take a shower. We are going to Baratie." she said, folding her arms, knowing Zoro was going to complain about meeting Sanji-kun.

"Baratie?" Zoro said, his voice slightly louder than he intended it to.

"Yes Baratie, Zoro, Baratie" Nami repeated it twice for her words to reach Zoro's head.

"We will be meeting up with Luffy there as well. Have a nice dinner and drink something nice. Well, Luffy won't. But we can." she said, making drinking gestures.

Zoro liked the idea of drinking with Nami. Maybe, they could resume their ongoing bet as well. Their bet of who can withstand drinks longer was still on hold as they either tie or come out drunk at the end of it. But seeing that shit head took the fun out of it.

He turned around, wiping his forehead clean with his left arm, showing off his biceps in the process. Nami's eyes fluttered to his biceps, enjoying the view he presented her.

"Will we see nosebleed kun as well?" he asked.

She made a face, "who is nosebleed kun? Don't make fun of Sanji kun." She said slapping his chest. Just to feel how hard it was and oh, it was hard.

"Just answer the damn question." he said, removing his top in front of her. His whole body seemed to be living as Nami could see each and every muscle in his body ripple against his skin whilst he removed his t-shirt. His nipples whispered hello to her and oh god, his abs. She trailed a single sweat that dropped from his neck, which made its way between his collar bone, past his chest, crossed his abs and disappeared in his belly button

"like what you see?" He said smirking at how fixated she was with his abs.

She quickly looked up to see him smirking at her, with that stupid grin. She was not gonna let him be the only winner.

"Nope, not at all." she said turning, throwing her hair to his face in the process, and moving towards the door. Zoro closed his eyes naturally and as he opened his eyes to shout some vain remarks to Nami, all he saw was her ass and hips moving side to side towards the door. She didn't need to say anything because she knew he was already looking.

"Be ready by 5 and come over as soon as you're ready." She said before leaving the room completely.

"Oh and invite law." she said with a wink.

///////////

Zoro was ready in 10 mins. He put on a simple white top, jeans and a simple black denim jacket. He looked over his balcony to the other side with a frown.

She is definitely still getting ready.

He went over anyways to pressure her into getting ready quicker, only to find her putting on a skirt that didn't fit. Zoro could see the plumps of skin near the waist of the skirt and her ass as she was struggling to put it on. She was wearing a pink lace thong that illuminated the pale skin underneath. His shameful eyes drank the scene in front of him; her buns juggled as she shook her ass to try to fit the skirt. Damn, that is one big ass, he thought. His hands twitched to slap her right cheek but he shook the thoughts away.

"I don't think that fits Nami." He spoke in a low husky voice.

His voice surprised her, causing her to trip over herself and lose her balance, falling face forward. As a result, her ass was high up in the air and Nami put herself on display for him. He choked on his own spit at the scene in front of her. And that thong was not helping, it practically covered nothing with her ass high up for him to see.

With a tint of blush, he turned around to give her privacy.

"What the hell Zoro!" she turned her head from the ground and was relieved when she found him facing the other way.

She got up and got rid of the skirt. The skirt was velvet and in the colour red. It was short enough to show her smooth legs and just long enough to cover the important parts. Although the skirt didn't fit her, she got it on a 80% sale and her first instinct was to buy it. It was a bargain and was the last piece after all! It's a shame it doesn't fit as it would definitely look good on her.

She was dressed casual for today and was wearing a white cami top with lace detailed front. She was going to wear that velvet skirt with it but decided to replace it with high waisted ripped jeans. She felt a bit exposed after Zoro found her in her thong trying to wear a skirt that didn't fit! So she decided to go with something that would cover her legs.

"Just so you know," she said putting one leg through her jeans, "I'm charging you for that." She said putting the other leg in.

"What the hell witch!" he complained.

"How dare you walk in here and try to see me naked. I didn't peg you to be a Sanji, Zoro." She said walking towards her makeup table to brush her hair. Sanji is a term they use as an inner joke to call men who basically, well, act like Sanji-kun.

After what seemed to be an appropriate time to Zoro, he turned around to state his dissatisfaction.

"Well, it's not my fault you're not ready yet. You're the one who told me to hurry and now you're the one who's not ready. How is it my fault that you're still getting dressed after an hour?"

"You tell me to come over and now, you tell me not to come over, make up your damn mind witch." He said with a frown.

"Zorrroooo, I'm a woman. I'm allowed to take time to look my best." She said in a haughty manner.

She stood up, happy with her hair and turned to him.

"This," she said waving at her body, "doesn't happen overnight. It takes me time to look this good."

He just scoffed. Although he wanted to disagree and say she wasn't all the hotshot she thought she was, he didn't want to make her change clothes, which is something she would do if he disagreed.

He went to sit on her bed and complained that she was slow again.

"Did you call Torao-kun?" She asked reapplying her lipstick one final time. She checked her makeup once more before spraying her setting spray.

"Yes woman, yes, I called your ride." He said with a displeased voice.

Zoro met Law as a child in a kendo club. He was 5 and Law was 10. Zoro was always working hard and stayed behind every time to train harder. He muttered about getting stronger and this piqued Trafalgar D. Water Law's interest in the little boy. Law always teased Zoro for being a little boy yet having big "goals", to which Zoro always challenged Law and they somehow ended in a draw everytime. After leaving the kendo club, Zoro was still close with Law and had been together in every stage of each other's life. Nami and Luffy met Law only after an incident that required Luffy to visit the hospital.

Luffy unfortunately amputated his pinky finger from one of his stupid antics. Nami freaked out so much that she almost fainted when she heard the pinky land on her bedroom floor with a tap. Zoro fortunately knew Law who was a medical student. Law was from a family of doctors and his dream was always to follow his father's footsteps. He would spend hours reading on human anatomy and diseases when he was a child. Law was very smart as a child and eventually skipped grades before he entered medical school.

Zoro remembered law immediately and asked him for first aid through the phone. As they both sounded so distressed over the phone, Law asked them to visit his hospital where he was working as a placement. Zoro and Nami rushed Luffy to the hospital while Luffy was wailing and sobbing about his missing finger. Law helped Luffy calm down and proceeded to ask routine questions about the incident before helping to reattach his finger with surgeons (one of them being his dad). Thankfully, it was a success due to the first aid Law provided. Law was so surprised at how Luffy severed his finger, somewhere along the line due to his interests in Luffy's case, he became Torao and Luffy's friend without his approval. All he said was "so how did you cut your finger?" And Luffy hasn't left him alone since then. Nami thinks it's because Luffy was hysteric over his cut pinky and thanked Torao for (in Luffy's term) "saving his life."

Oh but Zoro knew. He's been with Law for a very long time and they grew up together after all. Zoro knew that wasn't the reason why Law still hangs around Luffy and Nami, and sometimes without Zoro. He's seen the stolen glances and the way law looks at Nami. Law wouldn't be wasting his time to drive them to Barati if he didn't fancy her.

A car honk was heard from outside of Nami's window. Zoro didn't miss the small smile that crawled on Nami's face and wore an annoyed look on his own. Nami sprinted out to her balcony and waved at her older friend.

She turned around and said "let's go!"

Zoro followed her with heavy footsteps. But he still followed her, he was compliant every time and he didn't know why.

As they got nearer to the parked car, Law lowered his passenger window and Nami leaned in on the opened window, revealing her cleavage to the driver. Zoro grimaced, acutely aware of what she was doing. Nami smiled and whispered a sweet 'thank you'.

That's when it hit Zoro. This witch knew. She knew Law had a thing for her and was using him like a Sanji.

Law's eyes followed the top that slightly slid down as Nami leaned over and settled at the cleavage that revealed itself to him. Law smiled in response and gestured Nami to get in the car. To save Law's dignity, Zoro shoved Nami aside and got in the front seat.

"Hey, what the hell?" She asked, ticked off at Zoro's actions.

"Sit at the back." he said gesturing behind him to the back seat.

She pouted because now she would have to sit alone at the back but got in anyways as she was hungry.

Baratie was a beautiful and a fancy restaurant owned by Chef Zeff, who Sanji admires and sees as a father figure.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by a well-lit restaurant with full-length windows around the whole restaurant for natural light. At night, the bulbs that hung on the ceiling were lit in different colours - purple, red, yellow, all creating beautiful lighting during the night. The wall was painted an elegant white, which matched well with the light pink velvet carpet on the floor. In the centre of the restaurant, one could find stairs leading down to the kitchen and up for more seating.

The receptionist recognised the distinct hair colours of Sanji's friends and she didn't even have to ask them about their reservation. She welcomed them and took them straight to the table reserved for "Sanji's queen" as was directed by Sanji in the morning.

"Here are the menus."

She didn't recognise the guy with the tattoos but proceeded to ask the other two whether they would like to order the same as usual.

Nami closed her menu and sweetly smiled before nodding her head. Her usual at the Baratie was a medium steak with chips and red wine, while Zoro's was a signature bacon burger with melted cheese and chips. Law read through a couple of pages before ordering a classic carbonara with white wine. She nodded before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

Nami was sitting across Zoro and Law was sitting in between them. Zoro saw Nami looking around and guessed she was looking for Sanji.

"Where's Luffy? I thought we were supposed to meet him here." Zoro asked Nami. Nami finally looked at Zoro, he doesn't know why but it felt like she hasn't looked his way today at all. Frankly speaking, Nami was too embarrassed to look at Zoro after the whole thong incident.

With her cheek on her palm, she responded "You'll see him soon enough! He was supposed to come with us but he said he'll already be here by the time we arrive."

Zoro munched on some garlic bread and asked, "Where's nosebleed Kun?"

"Who's nosebleed kun?" Law asked as he didn't remember anyone who was called that.

"Yes, Zoro, who is nosebleed kun?" Nami asked sarcastically, tilting her head to the side.

As if Sanji heard her, he came running with the drinks while singing "Nammmiiiii-swannnnn!"

"My love, my body has been waiting this whole day for this moment." Sanji said, skilfully twirling towards her, without dropping any of the drinks on his way.

"Ah, Sanji kun!" she said clapping her hands together.

"Here you go mademoiselle, one red wine." He said, kneeling down for her.

"Hey, where's my drink?" Law questioned, but it was completely ignored by Sanji.

"Thank you." Nami said lifting her hand gracefully and touching Sanji's cheek.

"I missed you so much." She cooed.

"I can't wait to eat the food your very hands made." she said touching his hands now.

"Namiii-swannn, I know our love was meant to be. For you, I've cooked only the finest and delicious food."

"Ahhh, but I don't have enough money to pay for the finest meals in your restaurant." She said with an act.

"And it's all free for you Nami-swan." Sanji said holding Nami's hand on his and lifting it lightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled.

"Great thank you, expected nothing less from you, Sanji-kun." She said rubbing his chin before looking at the two pairs of eyes watching her in shock.

"You're going to hell." Zoro stated.

"And you, how can you be so dumb you idiot cook."

"It's not free for you shitheads. You guys have to pay." Sanji said to the boys coming out of his love trance.

"Nami-ya, if you can't pay for it then I will pay for you. You don't need to resort to such...err…" His words died on his lips when she sent an angry look directed at him.

"No, thank you law. You guys owe me money, not the other way around. I don't mind a free meal but I don't want to owe you." She said in a pompous manner.

If this was a cartoon, Zoro's eyes would've literally come out of their sockets.

"How in the world is it any different to what you're doing to nosebleed kun?" Zoro said facepalming.

He could hear the 'ohhh, he's nosebleed kun' on the background as law finally put two and two together.

After handing out the drinks including Law's and Zoro's, Sanji lit his cigarette and looked at the tattooed man before him.

"Who the hell are you and why are you calling Nami-swan without honorifics you shithead?" He said, trying to intimidate law.

"Now now, calm down Sanji-kun. He's a friend." Nami introduced Law to Sanji and vice versa.

"By the way, Sanji-kun, do you know where Luffy is?"

"Oh, you didn't know? He's working with us to pay for his tab because he's a big eater." Sanji said taking another puff.

"Are waiters allowed to smoke here? What a terrible service this restaurant has." Law said as a little bit of jealousy stung him when he saw how close Nami was with this "nosebleed kun".

"Huhhhh, what did you say you tattooed shit head. Don't think I'll be intimidated by the word death tattooed on your dainty little fingers." Sanji said rolling his sleeves.

"Oh boy" Nami shook her head.

"He's a chef, not a waiter and yes, why are you waiting our table you idiot. Go back to the kitchen. I don't want to see your face, shitty cook." Zoro said crossing his arms.

"You asshole, you wanna fight. I'll take both of you on." Sanji said making a commotion on his restaurant, causing many customers to look his way now.

Once the customers started whispering about Nami's table, Patty, the rowdy chef in charge of Sanji, came out stomping his feet.

"What are you doing here Sanji? You should be inside the kitchen. You're making a fuss and disturbing other customers." He practically screamed at Sanji, making things only worse.

"Now come apologise." Patty pulled Sanji and apologised to others by bowing to the customers and forced his neck to bow as well.

As Sanji and Patty were apologising to everyone, a corner table got Nami's attention when both the customers started acting a little strange. Zoro, on the other hand, was watching Nami instead during the commotion and had seen the table that caught Nami's attention. Nami's attention was then taken away from said table by Luffy.

"Oiiii Namiiiiii, everyone, you guys made it." Luffy said cheerfully while waving his arms.

Nami's eyes widen in shock, "Luffy be careful, you're carrying a lot of food, it might all come ….."

Before she could finish the sentence, she heard a loud noise which now caught everyone's attention in the restaurant.

Luffy lost his balance and dropped all the plates of food he was carrying.

"Luffy you bastard, that better not be Nami-swan's food." Sanji said walking towards him.

Patty just screamed, knowing it was the wrong decision to hire Luffy as a chore boy. They were losing more money than making money!

Law was quiet as he watched the scene unfold before him. Sanji was beating Luffy and Patty was beating Sanji while Luffy just cried and said "shumimashe". But if it is one thing Law knows about Luffy, it is that wherever Luffy goes, trouble always seem to follow him.

Nami sighed. Great, yet another perfect day, well night, wasted. She thought.

She moaned as she got up from her seat, she was tired of the same shit happening each time they went out together. Before she could walk away, Zoro's question stopped Nami on her tracks.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"For fresh air and away from these idiots." She said pointing at the two chefs and Luffy who was also beginning to fight back after shouting "I didn't want to work as well." on the top of his lungs.

Oh but Zoro knew. He knew where she was going, he had watched her the whole day after all.

He watched her as she walked past the trio, who were still arguing about the wasted food, and saw the path she was taking. She was planning to go towards the back door, which leads to Baratie's beautiful garden where one could enjoy food and nature together. But the table that caught her eye earlier was on her way as well.

That clever witch.

She walked towards the back door, her waist moving from left to right and then finally stopped when she was next to the table in question. He watched her as she turned her head towards the table, as if someone called her name and saw the smile that creeped on her face. As soon as she looked at the table, the two people visibly jumped and looked towards the window, avoiding Nami's gaze. To their dismay, Nami started walking towards their table.

Zoro chuckled and Law made a mental note never to go anywhere with these psychos. Two were still arguing in front of him, his food all spilled on the floor, and his friend was laughing at the sight like a psycho. Psychos, they're all psychos!

Zoro got up to follow Nami. He started to become extremely curious and wanted to know who Nami found sitting at the table.

"Well, well, well." Nami said hand on her hip.

"Isn't this a beautiful surprise." She said looking at the couple in front of her, their date apparently interrupted.

In front of her sat the student counselor, Nico Robin and Zoro's home room teacher, Cutty Flam, also known as Franky. Franky was hiding behind the menu while Robin nervously laughed.

Zoro's jaw dropped as soon as he caught up to Nami. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here and why are you with herrr!?"

Although Franky was a teacher and should have authority over his students, he often behaved like his students and was seen as a friend rather than a teacher by his pupil. He was always seen hanging around his students and giving life lessons to kids in school.

"So what is this, a first date or perhaps, a proposal?" Nami asked, walking towards the table, trying to work out whether this was a serious relationship.

Robin finally processed all the information and her brain switched on. She picked up her wine slowly and brought it to her lips. She was thinking of numerous ways to play this and was planning her next move. She finally smiled and held Franky's hand that was on the table.

"Yes, we are on a date," She smiled, "aren't you both as well?" She asked softly, her smile provoking Nami further.

Robin knew how gutless Nami was when it came to Zoro. Robin knew Nami could charm the whole world, yet she could not charm Zoro, with whom she's spent all her life with. Zoro was the only man that didn't fall under her spell and it ticked off Nami to her bones. Robin knew that and while Nami waits to make her move, Robin already made hers and was proudly showing off her results to Nami.

Nami frowned, recalling their first meeting. This was Robin's win.*

Nami also reached out to grab Zoro's hands before responding, "Whatever we do is none of your business." Nami did not want to disclose any information and give Robin the satisfaction of knowing whether they were going out or not.

"Let's go Zoro." Nami demanded and walked the other way, back to their table. Zoro didn't have much of a choice as she was still grasping his hand and pulled him towards her.

"Hey, where are you going? I thought you wanted fresh air!" Zoro asked while following Nami.

Nami turned around to face him. She was exhausted; she just got defeated in the battle of wits with Robin and she was hungry! She was hungry and all she wanted to do was eat and drink. She looked at Luffy who was now planning on quitting the job as a chore boy. She wanted to get away, away from all the drama and just eat, something, anything. Just as she was about to suggest going elsewhere for food, as if Zoro read her mind, Zoro asked Nami, "Wanna ditch them and go to a bar for food and drinks?"

Nami has never been happier.

"But what about Law?"

"Screw him, he'll find his way back."

Nami was happy, extremely happy with where she was with Zoro. They are good friends and understand each other well. Sure, they argue from time to time but he (yes, I said he) will always compromise for her and isn't that what a relationship is all about. She has it all and she didn't want to lose what she has with what she could have. She would rather have him near her as a friend than lose him forever. So asking him out can wait just a little longer.

"Okay."

This time, it was his turn to pull her towards the exit of the restaurant. It was going to be just him and her, just the way it should be. And the rest can starve to death, for all Zoro cares.

"Zoro, that's the wrong way!"

"Damn, it!"

/////

* Reference to chapter 6. 

Hope you enjoyed it.

Hope you have a good day/afternoon/evening/night. :) 

[eryiss]

Summary: 'Freed The Dark, God of Death and ruler of the Netherworld. Followed by a reputation as rotten and stinking as the corpses he gives a home; he had been ostracized by gods and angels alike. And as the war between gods got closer, and those he cared for are dragged into the fight, his seclusion begins to twist his mind against him. But as his darkest day approached, he was forced to choose where his morals lie.' - Levy McGarden: A Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods. [Fraxus One Shot]

Event: Fairy Tail Reverse Bang (Hosted by @ftguildevents​)

This was made in partnership with the great @fairiesherefairiesthere​, who made the beautiful artwork that made this fic possible. You should show them and their work a lot of love, and reblog it from here.

You can read it on Fanfiction, Archive of Our Own, or under the cut. Hope you enjoy.

Once Dead, Now Judged

The God of Death. The God of Judgment.

His is a story many people believe that they know, one that has been spoken of many times. In the telling and retelling of this story, many aspects of what made it so important have been lost. The Gods have been diluted into a single trait, and their significance in the tale is often misunderstood or disregarded entirely. The story has been condensed into a point where it can be explained in a single statement.

'The God of Death wanted the war to end, so he ended it.'

Of course this is not the truth of the matter. This mindset disregards both the personal and the political motivations which led to these decisions. It disregards the humanity behind the Gods, the fact that they were people and had flaws and loves, all of which led to that famous moment. The moment where corpses walked upon water, where souls were ready to kill souls. Where a disrespected God had the world at his feet, and chose to save it rather than destroy it as it perhaps deserved.

The moment where Freed Justine, God of both Death and Judgment, shaped the future.

Artists have often tried to capture the moment in their work. Countless renditions of the battlefield have been painted, each depicting the shadow of the death God looming over the fight to put an end to it. These depictions of the moment, while both beautiful and important, often hide away the humanity behind the story. This moment wasn't the God of Death's. It was Freed Justine's.

One such painting that recognises this is called the 'Knight of Judgment'.

Knight Of Judgement. Artist Unknown. Date Unknown.

Though its artist is uncredited, it is clear that they see the story in the same personal light that I do. It shows the moment that shapes our reality, but not from the perspective of the battlefield. From the perspective of the man who made it happen. That is the story that I will be telling you all today.

The untold story of the man behind the God.

Of the human behind the revolution.

Of Freed the Dark, God of Death, and ruler of the Netherworld. Followed by a reputation as rotten and stinking as the corpses he gave sanctuary; he had been ostracized by Gods and angels alike. And as the war between Gods got closer, and those he cared for are dragged into the fight, his seclusion began to twist his mind against him. But as his darkest day approached, he was forced to choose where his morals lie.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

"Bastards!"

Freed's words echoed throughout the chamber as he stormed through it. Darkness covered almost everything, with light filtering in through the stained-glass windows that circled his throne room. His footsteps reverberated through the room as an accompaniment to his anger, the heels of his boots slamming against the black marble flooring.

On his face sneered a scowl, his fists were clenched at his sides, and he made a sharp gesture towards the large wooden doors before him. They opened with speed, slamming into the walls, and cracking slightly, sending a gust of wind towards the God which lifted his hair and the long black robe that hung behind him.

"Sanctimonious ego driven bastards!" He roared into the nothingness of his castle.

How dare they? How dare they!

He shouldn't have expected anything more. He should have gotten used to his treatment at that fucking table. He should have long since forgone any hope of being treated as an equal before them all, because they didn't see him as such. To them he was nothing but a utility, the person who cleaned up the messed that their ridiculous infighting was responsible for. That was the only reason why he had been called to service, and it was the only reason would ever be called to service, because people were going to die, and they needed him accommodate them.

The Netherworld was nothing but their dumping ground. They saw it as justification for allowing their stupidity to interfere with people. A way out of feeling guilt for the people their fancies killed. They delude themselves into thinking the Netherworld was just another part of life for humans, and refused to listen to anything that would break that illusion.

And Freed: he was nothing to them. He was just the person who kept the gates closed, stopping the corpses and the souls from returning to life with the anger of being wronged by the Gods.

"Bastards!" He yelled for a third time.

With a snarl, he slammed his hand on the wall at his side. The impact created an almost soft cracking sound, and a fissure-like tear ripped apart the wall of the corridor he was walking down. Bricks split apart, and windows shattered into shards on the floor.

The sensation of destruction was cathartic, but only slightly.

A moment later, he heard footsteps behind him, running to catch up with him. It was Evergreen, who he had placed outside of his throne room while he communed with the other Gods. Communication was though the mind, leaving his body essentially empty, so it needed to be guarded. Once, a man had made the mistake of attacking him in that state; now, the attacker endured the sensation of acid being secreted directly into his skin as penance.

Freed always made sure someone was on guard now, predominantly because changing someone's genetic makeup in such a way was a tedious process.

Though at that moment, it sounded delightful.

Everyone seemed to understand that Freed was not a man to target. Though, most people didn't have the opinion of him to do so. So long as you didn't break his trust, he would show a level of decency towards you. Most understood that his decency was a kindness, and they wouldn't risk losing it.

He didn't slow his place, and took a small amount of pleasure from the glass cracking under his feet as he walked. Pushing his arm forward, he slammed another set of doors open, the hinges cracking with the strain of such fast movement. By the time he had reached the threshold and walked into lobby of his castle, Evergreen had caught up to him.

"Freed," She said, and he glanced to his side to see Evergreen had sprouted wings and was hovering slightly to increase her speed. The wings had an odd look to them, and Evergreen had once stated they resembled fairy wings. Freed enjoyed her eccentricities, as odd as they were. It made her more human.

Something the bastards at the 'Table of the Gods' would do good to understand.

"They see us as nothing but a way to distance themselves from responsibility," Freed snapped at her, uncaring for the lack of context. He slowed down a little so Evergreen didn't have to fly to keep up with him, though.

Evergreen was a demon, technically. Freed disliked the term, as there was nothing separating his demons with any other God's angels, other than the fact she lived in the Netherworld rather than in the skies. It was another way that the so-called Higher Gods separated themselves from Freed. They were Gods of the world and they had their angels. He was a God of the Netherworld who had his demons. Ridiculous political bullshit.

She was one of the highest-ranking demons in the Netherworld. Freed had placed her in control of the corpses, or fairies as she called them. Her particular magic allowed her to revitalise the bodies of the dead, as their own genetics failed to do so. Rather than having limbs fall off, she kept them healthy and functional. For those who wanted it, she would change what they looked like slightly to the persons ideal form of beauty. Freed never particularly understood why people cared that much for what they looked like, but it seemed to make his subjects happy so he wouldn't intervene.

Evergreen made up one third of the triad named Raijinshuu. Freed and Bickslow completed it.

"What happened exactly?" Evergreen probed, dropping to the floor and letting her wings flitter away.

"What always happens," Freed growled. "They politely informed me that there would be an influx of dead coming and I'm to accept it without argument nor question. And of course they tried to imbue their politics into the situation, claiming certain dead should be treated better than others."

"Ah," Evergreen said in recognition before echoing Freed's own statement. "What always happens."

She placed a hand on the Gods back in a soft touch. Given his situation, Freed didn't have the chance to get close to people on a human level; an issue faced by all Gods no doubt. But his two top demons were what he considered friends, and he had made a great effort to show that he didn't see himself above them. That couldn't work with all demons, of course, as he needed to keep a level of authority over his land. But the two of them were allowed to see him without any of his facades or defences.

Some of the other Gods who knew this looked down on him for this. But he had spoken to more humans than they knew existed, and each of them had stated the importance of connections with other people. They were more knowledgeable than any God about what made life worth living.

That was why Freed wished to be involved in conversations about dead. He knew humans as more than just a premise. They weren't just hypothetically alive. They had thoughts just as much as any God, they were simply more breakable than them. As the thought struck him, another wave of anger creeped over him.

He leant his back against Evergreen's hand. Physical contact with other people grounded him.

"Come on," Evergreen said, apparently noticing Freed's return to rigid posture. "We thought this might happen."

Eventually, after walking through many of the hallways in his home, he was guided towards one of the many sitting rooms. It was his favourite, given its large fireplace, the fact it was at the back of the castle, and the view overlooking the garden. It was the most secluded place in the building, and therefore the most comfortable for him.

When they walked in, Bickslow was waiting for him. The fire was roaring and crackling, the wooden shutters had been closed to keep the light inside, and a china teapot was steaming out of the funnel with three teacups resting beside it.

It was nice to have connections with people. People did kind things for you.

"There's the big scary God of Death," Bickslow said with a taunt in his voice. "Did someone get angry and demolish a corridor again?"

"Do you really think it's wise to antagonise me, Bickslow?" Freed said, the amusement almost unnoticeably seeping into his tone. "I control this realm entirely; I can force you to eat a human heart and drown on the blood, should the mood take me."

"I prefer a liver, really. Less messy," Bickslow said with a cackle.

Freed smiled a little at that, relaxing into the easy-going environment Bickslow always projected. Making up the final part of Raijinshuu – or the tribe of hell – he was of equal power to Evergreen, and equally important to Freed.

Whereas Evergreen looked after the bodies of the deceased, Bickslow looked after the souls. This was an equally important job, as both the soul and the body made life. Just like an uncared-for body would fall apart and crumble without care, the soul would spiral into darkness and insanity, becoming self-destructive and dying out like a star. Bickslow both used his magic and his personality – so he claimed – to keep the souls both sane and content.

The two demons worked together well. They needed to. Death was the process of splitting up a soul from one's body. For an afterlife to begin, the soul and the body needed to be brought back together. Evergreen and Bickslow were responsible for merging them both when possible.

They were quite affective at their work.

The process was often a tedious one, it must be said. Bodies and souls could appear anywhere in the Netherworld, and could often go unfound for centuries. Sometimes a body would be destroyed to the point where Evergreen couldn't save it, sometimes a soul had gone mad before anyone could even find it. Thankfully, this usually only happened to those who were truly evil, perhaps as some form of karmic punishment, but both Evergreen and Bickslow were still respectful in how they dealt with those cases.

Evergreen had created a forest, fertilised with what remained of the corpses. Bickslow had created a spell where the remnants of souls could be merged together, making an entirely new soul. It had happened thousands of times, and Bickslow had crafted only five souls out of these remnants. They had been assigned to little dolls, which followed the man around constantly.

"Since I knew you'd be all icy," Bickslow continued, picking up a teacup and proffering it to Freed. "I thought you'd enjoy this. Masala tea, nice and hot."

Freed took the cup with a word of thanks. He tried to keep the culture of the living at arm's length for most of the time, but he had once drunk tea and found it rather spectacular, and decided he would allow certain parts of humanity into his own life. He was allowed to have a weakness, and a warm drink was a good one to have.

"What happened then?" Evergreen asked, sitting at one of the red sofas opposite the God. "Specifically."

"There's a war coming, so they think," Freed sighed, placing the teacup down. "Apparently they don't intend to be subtle if it does happen, and humans will be killed in thousands. We have been instructed to make plans to accommodate the dead."

"Instructed huh?" Bickslow said with a small grunt.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Apparently the ridiculous feud between Makarov and his idiot son has boiled over. They expect the first casualty within months. And once one person is killed, either man will willingly do anything in return to prove their point."

"And they have to drag the people into it?" Evergreen sighed.

"I doubt that they have to, but they will," Freed mused. "They don't see the people as being alive any more than an ocean, or a mountain. They're just little creatures to them, barely thinking in comparison to a God. Why would the bother with the effort of keeping them alive?"

"They didn't listen to ya when you told them that, huh?" Bickslow asked.

"Ivan's exact words to me were 'Keep your corpse fucker mouth shut,'" Freed shrugged.

"He hasn't gotten any smarter, then, if that's the best insult he could think of," Evergreen muttered, and Freed laughed. It was a clipped, cynical laugh, but better than nothing.

"If he ever ends up down here, I shall need one of your souls to possess that ridiculous suit of armour he insists on wearing," Freed said, looking to Bickslow. "It would be a nice level of irony that the thing he wears to protect him ends up ripping his bowels out and crushes them as he watches. I'd find that pleasant."

"I'll get em trained up ready," Bickslow said with a grin. "But you don't think they can be cooled off. Makarov and Ivan I mean. They've never gotten along, you said, but they've never gone to war."

"Laxus is trying to calm them both down, but I doubt he'll be of any help. He fights with Ivan as much as his grandfather does," Freed lifted the teacup to his lips again, sipping at the spicy liquid and allowing it to warm his cold blood. "And it seems like their millenniums worth of grievances has come to return all at once. Laxus would have to be a saint as well as a God to get them to even consider being diplomatic."

"So we gotta play clean-up because their pissing contest is gonna get violent," Bickslow surmised, and Freed nodded. "And they don't even have the fucking courtesy to talk to you like an equal."

"They consider themselves to be the most important beings in existence. Annoyingly, existence seems to agree," Freed said with a tired expression. "Why would they care about the ants they're crushing? Or the people who try to help them?"

"Should we be expecting Laxus here anytime soon?" Evergreen asked.

"Perhaps, though not in the next few days. Calming them both will be his priority," Freed stood up, placing his tea in its saucer again. "I suppose they're right, though. We need to prepare if half the world is going to be slaughtered."

Bickslow and Evergreen shared a look.

"Tomorrow," Bickslow said firmly. "We start tomorrow."

"There's hardly any reason to prolong-"

"Tomorrow," The demons said in unison, and Evergreen continued talking. "You've not slept in days, if nothing else allow yourself a night's rest."

"A few hours ain't gonna affect anything," Bickslow added. "And we both know that anything you do while pissed off ain't gonna be as good as if you're calm. So take the night off and sleep."

Freed took a moment to think, then sighed and nodded. He returned to the chair like they so clearly wanted and allowed Bickslow to pour him another cup of tea. He brought it to his lips and watched as his friends smiled in contentment of their actions. It was important that he had these people in his life, and he was glad that they were there.

As tedious as they may be.

~~~

Often disregarded in the story of Freed the Dark is the people close to him. His relationships with both his friends and those he ruled were imperative to his overall decision to enter the war. As leader of the Netherworld, he was shaped more by humanity than any other God, and without this influence it is unclear as to whether or not he would have walked into the fight or not.

The closeness he held to those not of his blood was anomalous for a God, and was part of the reason as to why he was disrespected and looked down upon by some of his fellow Gods. They saw him as impure, tainted by the lesser beings of the land.

It is important to state that not every God looked down upon him. He was not the victim of complete ostracization, and certain Gods looked to him as an ally, friend and, in the case of Laxus Dreyar, a lover.

Laxus was the youngest son of the Higher God's, known colloquially as the Dreyar's. The grandfather and patriarch of the family, Makarov, was known to be God of Expansion and Family. He sat at the head of the God's Table, and was seen by all as the ruler of the Gods. Makarov's son Ivan, the God of Persona, and later the God of Tricksters, showed great levels of jealousy towards his father and tried on many occasions to usurp him, both through manipulations and violence.

The family of Gods were all-powerful and volatile.

However, Laxus showed himself to be different. After being manipulated against Makarov, Laxus chose to leave the skies. It is stated that he was unsure where Ivan's manipulations ended, and his own personality began. His exile was so he could become his own man.

It was during this exile he found himself in the Netherworld, walking through the garden of the castle.

Meeting the God of death, they quickly found solace in each other's company. Laxus understood better than most the hardships of being a God, particularly one involved in the politics of others. They could relate to each other on a level nobody else could, and what started as a mutual fondness quickly developed into love.

Their relationship was kept secret from most, with only those closest to the men knowing in the days before the war. Despite the secretive nature of the romance, both men adored each other. It cannot be overstated how important this relationship was in proceeds that ended the war.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

Having loved the man for so long, Freed knew what to look for when Laxus was approaching.

Being the God of both Thunder and Lightning, when Laxus was around there was a certain feeling in the air. The slight presence of static, a partial increase of humidity, and a tiny chill to the air. Freed would compare it to the feeling of standing in a cloud that was just about to bear lightning. Most people either didn't notice the feeling, or saw it as an imposition. Freed rather liked the sensation, it was as if he was being wrapped up in the long fur lined cloak that Laxus wore.

The feeling arrived before the man himself. Laxus' abilities allowed him to become one with the clouds and lightning, and to form a cloud wherever he saw fit. So when he wished to visit Freed, he would summon a cloud into the castle, and bring his consciousness into it, his body following soon after.

In the first few instances of his arrival, the cloud had struck lightning and Laxus had formed out of that. Laxus later revealed it was an unnecessary level of showmanship, and he was showing off.

Freed looked back on that confession with fondness.

When the smoke coming from the fireplace started to pool in the air, followed by the sensation of static, humidity and a chill, Freed knew that his lover would soon be with him. The God placed his wine glass at the table beside him with a soft smile, waiting patiently for the cloud to dissipate and for his lover to be by his side.

"Mr Dreyar," Freed said pleasantly, watching as the cloud burst and left Laxus in its place. "A pleasure to see you again."

Laxus didn't say anything at first, but instead stalked over towards Freed and wrapped his arms around the man tightly. Freed couldn't be sure what had spurred the action on, but hugged his lover back with an equally strong grasp. They stayed like this for a moment, tightly embracing one another as the fire crackled beside them.

"Sorry it took so long to get here," Laxus muttered into Freed's shoulder.

"You needn't be," Freed replied almost automatically. "They're your family, and you have a responsibility to them."

It had been just shy of a week since the meeting of the Gods, and where Freed had yet again been dismissed by the leaders. Laxus had been in attendance at the meeting, of course, and Freed hadn't seen him since he had walked out.

The time since then had been mainly spent preparing the Netherworld for the inevitable influx of dead. His demons had been told to be vigilant for new souls and corpses, as when they would come was unknown. The dead had been told to begin preparing buildings and homes for the newly dead, as Freed would not allow for overpopulation. And everyone had been informed that their ancestors and relatives might die soon, and they would need their families to help them adjust, so to prepare themselves for that. It had all been busywork for Freed, and partly because he wanted to distract himself from his lover's absence.

"I should have come to you sooner," Laxus said, burying his face into the crook of Freed's neck.

"You're here now," Freed whispered. "And that's enough. And anyway, Bickslow and Evergreen have been keeping me sane. As has the work."

"I'll thank 'em later," Laxus mumbled, pressing his lips into Freed's neck in a kiss. "You sure you're okay?"

"I believe I've calmed down," Freed said with a nod.

"Can't believe you stormed out like that," Laxus said, removing himself from Freed's arms. "Don't think either of the bastards ever had someone do anything like that to them before, you should have seen their faces after you left."

"I doubt it'll change anything," Freed shrugged, picking up his wine again.

"You pissed 'em both off, that's something," Laxus said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. "You know when they realise we've been together for centuries, they're gonna think that you're the reason I rebelled against them."

"Finally I'll be credited for something worthwhile," Freed chuckled a little at that.

Freed was unaware of it, but Laxus looked towards him with a hint of sadness in his eyes. He had long since been aware of the disrespect Freed faced from both the Dreyar's and many of the other Gods. He had tried what he could to change that, so far as to defend him both before and after Freed had left the meeting a week prior. But the Gods were stubborn, and set in their prejudices. Laxus just hoped that one day they would change their ways.

"I'm sorry they don't treat you right," Laxus apologised, speaking softly.

"Don't be," Freed instructed, standing up and walking to the window. He was in a study overlooking the Netherworld, and looked out over the dead before him. "I should have gotten over it by now."

"You shouldn't have to," Laxus insisted, standing up.

"Maybe it's for the best," Freed sighed, tapping his fingers against the windowsill. "I'm sure if they paid more attention to me then they'd look upon this world with distain. No doubt they'd have hundreds of issues with how I treat my subjects. With their logic they'd want me to torture the good and kneel before the bad."

"And they'd be wrong," Laxus assured him, wrapping his arms around the man. "You're a good man, Freed, and a damn good God, too."

"There's a certain level of irony in calling me a 'damn' good God," Freed chuckled, turning around in his lover's arms, grinning.

He pressed their lips together, Laxus leaning into the kiss softly. They had not kissed in a month and, even with their seemingly endless lives, that was far too long a time to go without it. Freed adored his Lightning God, the beautiful man who split open the skies with a wave of his hand, and created the most spectacular tapestries of light on the canvas of a cloudy night. He was a poet in actions, even if he refused the claim, and Freed was enamoured with the man and wished to show it with his kiss.

Love was something the humans had taught him. He liked it.

When they pulled apart, they stood in each other's arms with content expressions. Laxus looked spectacular like this, with a soft smile and no falseness on his face. He had once confessed that he truly only felt himself when with Freed. Though the sadness of the statement was not lost on him, Freed was thankful that he and his kingdom could offer the man sanctuary.

"You chose to come here through smoke, rather than your own cloud," Freed eventually spoke, and Laxus looked down on him with a quirk in his eyebrow. "May I assume that was so you could hide how you felt."

Laxus sighed. His ability to control the weather was slightly tethered to his emotions. The more emotional he felt, the stronger the impact of his abilities. If he was emotional, the lighting would be more ferocious, the thunder would echo louder, and the rain would be heavier. It also affected the clouds, and the darker his mood, the darker the clouds. Had he not used the smoke from Freed's fireplace, the cloud he summoned would have been blacker than the nights sky.

"I needed to prioritise you without you worrying," Laxus sighed. "You were upset, I wanted to make you feel better."

"I appreciate that," Freed nodded, bringing his hands up to stroke Laxus' cheeks. "But you need comfort too. So would you like to discuss what's wrong?"

Laxus took a moment, before deflating slightly.

"They're gonna fight, Freed," He whispered, almost not believing his own words. "I couldn't talk 'em down from it. I thought I could; Makarov at least would have listed to reason I thought. But neither of them even looked at me, they didn't care. Gramps said that Ivan would turn the world to darkness if left to his own devices, and Ivan said he should have killed him a millennia ago. There was nothing I could do."

"It wasn't your responsibility to stop them," Freed spoke softly. "Don't you dare start blaming this on yourself."

"They're both getting troops together. And nobody else can stop them because they're scared of 'em, so they're just gonna keep dragging everybody into the fight. I don't even think it's gonna be a fight, it's just gonna be the two of them pissed off and sending people to slaughter."

"It's unfortunate," Freed sighed. "But I'll do good by the dead, if that's any consolation."

"It ain't your job to clean up after them. And it shouldn't be the people's job to fight for them," Laxus argued with a growl. "They should just fucking fight between themselves if they need to. Why do they have to drag people into it?"

Freed didn't have an answer to that, so instead took his lovers hand in his own and held it. The man was shaking, and Freed felt that it wasn't entirely because of anger. He looked at the man's face and his heart almost broke. Laxus was portraying anger, but Freed had looked at enough humans faces to know fear when he saw it. He pressed their foreheads together in a gesture that hopefully calmed the man, before he spoke.

"I won't let them take you if you don't want to fight," He promised softly.

"You can't stop them," Laxus sighed, leaning against Freed. "They'll invade this place and rip apart everything you've done if they want to."

"Perhaps they won't want to."

"He called me a strategic advantage," Laxus sighed. "Ivan, my own father, said having me on his side would be a strategic advantage. I command the sky, so having me fight for them would ensue a victory. And gramps didn't say it, but he knows that it's true. They ain't gonna let me hide away. And I'm not gonna let them bring their fight here because of me."

Freed wanted to argue the point, but couldn't. The fight would take place in the skies. Having someone bring lightning down on any oncoming army would be invaluable. But Laxus didn't need to hear that.

"You can stay with me for as long as you please," Freed promised. "But you're right. You probably will be brought into the fight, so I want you to make me a promise."

"Anything," Laxus nodded.

"Pick the right side," Freed said firmly. "There is cruelty in them both, but we both know who the better leader will be. And so long as you have the choice in who you fight for, you must promise me that you pick the right one."

"I will," Laxus promised, and brought both of Freed's hands to his mouth to kiss, as if sealing the promise.

"How long do you expect we have until the war begins?" Freed asked.

"Months, at most," Laxus sighed. "I don't know when exactly, but everyone seems to know this is gonna be important, and neither side is gonna want to make a mistake early on. So they'll take time to build up their support and make their armies stronger. But they both wanna make the first hit, so they can't be building forever. In a year's time we'll be in deep."

"Perhaps we could do something," Freed offered. "Sabotage them in some way."

"They'll have more defences than we can imagine," Laxus rebutted. "Right now, I just wanna sleep."

"My bed chamber is always open for use for you," Freed assured him, unwrapping himself from his lover's arms. "Take all the time you need."

"Only if you join me," Laxus said, voice firm. "Ever and Bix already told me that you've been working yourself hard, and that you've been delaying sleep when you can get away with it. So if I sleep, then you have to too."

"If you insist," Freed said with a smile. "And I suppose it's appropriate."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, given that we're in the Netherworld, sleeping seems appropriate," He looked to Laxus with a mischievous grin. "Where else is there to rest in peace?"

Laxus barked out a disbelieving laugh. "You've the most fucking morbid sense of humour, it's fucking great."

And, in spite of the situation, both men smiled as they retired to bed.

~~~

I believe that the 'Knight of Judgment' is a unique painting as it shows what was important to Freed in the days of the war.

Located in the lower regions of the painting, you can see both Laxus and the Raijinshuu. They are shown to be sitting at a table, which multiple artists and historians agree signifies how they influenced Freed in his actions. In many ways, this is a representation of Freed's own Table of the Gods, with those he held close holding his council.

The location of them in the painting is also significant. They are placed in his stomach: they are a part of him that he carried with him throughout the darkest days of his life.

It is a great sorrow that he needed to be secluded from them for the war to end.

The affect that the war had on the Netherworld was unique. Although the realm was secluded and the battle never neared the doors to the Netherworld, the impact of the fighting was said to have been felt in different ways. An overall atmosphere of unease is said to have filled the land, and there was an obvious influx of the dead. Both humans and angels were being slayed at an alarming rate.

The horrors of the war were unseen, but not unknown.

It is said that Freed often found himself at the doors of the Netherworld, contemplating seeing the fray first hand. He stopped himself each time, instead putting his focus on the new wave of deaths that came with each day. At this time, he relied on his friends and lover for support. As often told, this reliance could only last for so long.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

"I'm glad that you're here again," Freed said softly.

The God was lying on his large bed, arm in arm with his lover. Draped in velvet sheets, Freed couldn't help the look of fondness that adorned his features, nor did he care to try. It had been months since he had last had Laxus in his arms, and the loss of his lover's presence was starting to take effect. When he had felt the familiar static, humidity, and chill, he had worn a smile that could almost be described as giddy.

He had needed something to make him happy. The war had brought wave after wave of dead, meaning Freed and his demons were worked to the bone in accommodating them. Every day, hundreds of scared people were brought to his door, traumatised from their murder.

Every day, his anger at the fighting Gods increased.

Freed had worked himself harder than he'd ever needed to. Not only did he go about his usual roles as leader, but he also tried to assist his demons. Sometimes he would search the plains of the Netherworld to find lost souls. Sometimes he would work with The Raijinshuu to merge a body with its owner. Sometimes he would go to the city and build homes for the newly deceased. Ivan and Makarov had already taken their lives away, Freed should do whatever he could to keep them safe in his domain.

He and Laxus had spoken often, but not once in person. Laxus had been doing whatever he could to calm the fighting, even in the smallest of ways. He worked mainly with his grandfather, trying to veer him away from more destructive ways of attack. He had been successful for a while, but Ivan's power was growing and apparently it was getting harder for Laxus to keep Makarov's destructive plans at bay.

The longer the war lasted, the harder it was for Laxus to do anything really.

It was why he had come to Freed's castle. They both knew it.

"Sorry it ain't with better news," Laxus sighed, placing a hand on Freed's cheek with adoration in his eyes. "They're not gonna stop until someone wins. And I think they're just gonna get worse."

"So there's no point in trying to mediate anymore," Freed concluded.

"I think I have to join in first hand," Laxus said in a defeated tone, and Freed stroked his cheek with his knuckle. "I'm not doing anything on the side-lines anymore, they're both too focused on the fight to listen anymore. At least if I join in now, I get to choose which side I'm on rather than being dragged into it against my will."

"And, for full clarity, who's side will you be fighting for?" Freed asked, cautiously.

He was almost certain as to who Laxus would side with, but couldn't be sure. Ivan was a master manipulator and had unfortunately groomed Laxus into being his ideal child before Laxus had left him. It was always a lingering worry of Freed's that Laxus might be manipulated again.

He trusted the man, though. He had to.

"Gramps," Laxus said, nodding slightly to affirm his choice. "The way he's fighting is fucking awful, and he's not acting like he used to. But he's definitely the better of two evils right now. If Ivan wins control, everything he wants is so twisted and cruel. And if we can't get them in a room to talk it out, or stop it some other way, then we have to stop him with force. And, like he said, whatever side has me on it has an advantage. Might as well use it for some good, I guess."

"It's not right that they use you as a weapon," Freed sighed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'd rather be a weapon for good, than nothing," Laxus mumbled, but there was a level of defeat in his tone.

Freed hated hearing his lover in such a state. His relationship with his father had always been strained, but Laxus had looked up to his grandfather and loved the man dearly. But the way he spoke of Makarov as of late made Freed think he was a shell of his former self. His defence of his values had made him cruel. Makarov preached love and family more than most Gods, and yet he sent people to die to keep these values. He had become a hypocrite of the worst kind, and it seemed to be hurting Laxus more than he would admit.

Placing a hand on Laxus' cheek, Freed looked at him with a soft expression. Laxus closed his eyes and leant into his hand, and it was clear how much strain the man was putting on himself. Freed let his face turn sad for a moment.

"He's not as he used to be, is he?" He eventually asked, speaking about Makarov.

"He's so focused on winning the fight, he's not paying attention to what he's doing," Laxus admitted. "Sometimes, I worry what he'll be like when the war's over."

"You need to make sure he keeps his humanity then," Freed said as he nuzzled further into his lover's grasp. "If you're going to be fighting with him, then you can at least try and keep him sane and kind."

"I'll do what I can, but I might have lost him already."

Before Freed could try to argue the point, Laxus shifted so he was sitting up in the bed. He made a gesture with his hand, and a dark cloud crackled to life in front of them, with lighting shimmering all over it. Freed recognised it as the same spell they had been using to talk when away from each other. It was essentially a looking glass into another location; Laxus was showing him part of the war, something Freed hadn't yet been privy too.

It was abhorrent.

The fighting was taking place over the ocean, and it looked near cataclysmic. Huge waves were sloshing and forming, higher than any wave should be. They crashed into oncoming soldiers with thoughtless ferocity, and Ivan's fighters looked practically ant-like against the attacks from the sea. They were washed away, most probably drowning. Despite knowing what the world would be like if Ivan's troops won, Freed felt something like sympathy for them.

In the centre of the spyglass stood Juvia, Goddess of the Sea, who was clearly controlling the ocean. Her expression was stern and face without regret. Standing either side of her were Natsu, God of Fire, and Lucy, Goddess of the Stars.

Lucy's eyes glowed and she raised a hand into the air. Suddenly the nights sky was plunged into darkness, as if all of the stars had been extinguished within a moment. Even knowing that behind the darkness was a hellish fighting, it was almost a moment of calm. Just the darkness and the sound of the ocean.

And then there was screaming. Fire spread through the enemy forces, illuminating their pain and nothing else. The removal of light had been a distraction that allowed Natsu to climb aboard the ships of the opposing troops. Some of them jumped over the edge of the boats, and found themselves churned up in a whirlpool of Juvia's creation. It was only when he saw the angels battered against the rocks did Freed realise how close they were to the coast.

How close they were to the humans, who had nothing to do with the fight.

It was sickening to watch, made worse by the fact Freed knew the three Gods responsible. Natsu and Lucy were some of the most optimistic people he had met, and had never judged him. And although he didn't know Juvia well, she had always been kind to him. Everything he watched contrasted with what he knew of these people.

"Gramps orchestrated this," Laxus sighed, flicking his wrist, and removing the spyglass.

"Yes," Freed agreed, voice quiet. "I expect it isn't easy to see."

"I told him not to do it," Laxus said with a growl. "I told him that he shouldn't do it near the coast, that people are gonna die because of it. And not just because they get dragged into the whirlpool, but because it's gonna affect the landscape. Juvia can't make water, so she's getting it from the clouds. It won't rain for months so crops are gonna die. And the fish ain't gonna be where they should be, so who fucking knows when they're gonna eat."

"Don't hold yourself accountable for that," Freed said firmly.

"But when I join the fight, it'll be my fucking fault," Laxus exclaimed with equal parts annoyance and exasperation. "But I can't let that stop me, because if I stay out of the fight then I'll either be complacent in it or I'll be dragged into it and forced to do the same crap against my own will. It's just… it's just shit."

Rather than speaking – there was nothing he could say to make it better – Freed kissed his lover slowly. Laxus moved his lips with Freed's, and it was almost in a desperate way. It was awful to see Laxus with such fear in his soul. Freed wished he could do more.

"Even in this war, you are still your own man, Laxus," Freed said softly, pulling apart. "You have your own mind, your own opinions, and your own morality. If you don't want to change, then you don't have to. Hold onto yourself, that's all you can do."

"What if I can't?" Laxus asked weakly.

"You can," Freed assured him. "You have fought against the influences of your family constantly, and you have become the best of them because of it. It will be difficult from time to time, I'm sure, but I know you Laxus. I know you well enough to be sure you will never change your values for anyone, let alone your father and grandfather."

Laxus took a moment to think, and Freed pressed their foreheads together. It was a silent reminder that he was there for him.

"Thanks," Laxus eventually said. "For being here, and for saying all of that."

"I mean it," Freed reaffirmed, stroking Laxus' cheek again. "You have a stubborn side like no other, it's rather an attractive quality for me."

Laxus laughed slightly, appreciating Freed's attempt at lifting the mood slightly. He pressed their lips together in a soft and chaste kiss, wrapping his arm around Freed's waist and pulling their bodies closer to each other. Laxus often felt more comfortable under the protection of Freed's sheets than he did in his own home. Freed's castle felt so far detached from the reality of what was happening, it was like a safe haven for him. The irony wasn't lost on Laxus.

"I'll talk to Gramps about what I can do to help," Laxus eventually said. "While I still can. And like ya said, maybe if I'm fighting on his side then I can try and keep him kind."

"It's probably for the best," Freed agreed, but the worlds felt like acid.

Of course he didn't want Laxus in the fight, but he knew his personal opinion wasn't needed now. If he could have his way, Laxus would happily reside in his castle for the entirety of the war. But that wasn't possible, and Laxus would make a difference. Freed just had to hope that Laxus' inclusion could shorten the length of the war and stop the deaths.

It was an unlikely hope, but all Freed had.

"Can I stay here before I do it," Laxus asked softly, almost weakly. "I need to be with you."

"For as long as you need," Freed promised.

When they fell asleep, they both felt sick with what was to come.

~~~

Many people begin telling the story of how the war ended long after Laxus had become involved. As Freed and Laxus' relationship is often disregarded and forgotten, many people don't see the significance of Laxus' choice to join the fight and leave the Death God in his realm. Most people just see this as another God being forced to take a side and fight, but it was much more.

Laxus leaving to fight was a further hit to Freed. The added work and general disrespect from other God's had already taken affect, and to have these Gods take his lover from him, and to hurt his lover in the way they did, was something of a breaking point.

In retrospect, this is possibly the moment Freed's descent began.

Of course we can only conclude this with the advantage of history. The story of how Freed the Dark got his title is one often untold, and therefore unexplored. But there is a general consensus that it was due to the seclusion he enforced on himself after those he loved were dragged into the fight. This was the first example of this happening for the God, and is seen as the first real hit the man's sanity took.

The change was gradual, and often his own tendencies were the most self-destructive. In the ensuing days and weeks, Freed's temperament got worse and his actions became more thoughtless. It is said that this wasn't clear to most at the time, but with the benefit of hindsight those close to him could see the affect his lover's absence had on him.

To truly explore how Freed became the man who stopped the war, we must explain his descent into solitude. The next step in that process came on the day he sent away the Raijinshuu, and left his castle empty.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

Humans could be quite antagonising, Freed was finding.

He had always done this. As part of being the lord of the Netherworld, he tried his best to make the realm as pleasant for his subjects as he could. Being in complete control of everything meant he had abilities beyond the regular king, and therefore could be a better server to his kingdom. Because of this, he had always allowed his subjects to talk to him, make requests of him in ways that could improve their afterlife.

Today was one such a day. When the dawn had arisen, a queue of the dead had spiralled around the walls of the castle. The majority of them were recently deceased, and Freed knew the moment he laid eyes on them that they didn't want anything of importance, but rather childish requests that Freed had no interest in granting.

He was in a foul mood before he saw the first person. It did not get better.

The requests were ridiculous. Two ex-lovers had their homes in the same street and spent five minutes arguing that the other should be moved to the far end of the city. An adult man had asked for the water in his home to be turned into wine, and claimed it was because of religious beliefs and denying him would be an affront to his faith; it would be an affront to his alcoholism if anything.

And now he was forced to endure an elderly woman ranting at him, claiming her neighbours had been stealing her food provisions and should be punished for it. Her suggestion was that he and his family be starved for a week and to have his food supplies lessened permanently. It was absurd. He was a God, not a mediator for ridiculous arguments. It was tempting to starve her out of spite.

Still, at least he could let his mind wonder and drown out the obsessive whining of the humans for a little while.

With the hordes of the dead coming to his world because of the war, he hadn't had time to relax. Even when he did have a few moments to himself, his mind usually went to Laxus and whatever he might be doing. That was never for good.

It had been months since they had even spoken to one another. After Laxus decided to join the fight, they had spent a few days together before the blonde had returned to the skies to take his grandfather's side and join the battle. After that, they hadn't so much as seen one another. Freed had no idea what his lover was doing, if he was safe, or if he was in danger. The absence of the man he loved was starting to affect him.

In the past, even on the long stretches where they couldn't see each other in person, they could at least talk. But not this time, and Freed missed him. Now he just had idiot humans to distract him.

The amusement was wearing thin.

Because these ridiculous creatures were not treating him like a God. They were not treating him as something to be feared or looked up to. They were treating him as some odd wish granter who is supposed to care about their damn stupid problems!

"May I interrupt you, ma'am," Freed snapped suddenly, hands gripping the side of the throne.

Apparently the woman was the breaking point for him. She stopped, and looked to him almost affronted.

"Because if I'm completely honest with you ma'am, I couldn't give less of a damn about your problems, ma'am. In fact, ma'am, you're such a tedious person that I'm considering granting your neighbour twice the food than he gets now out of spite of you. So, ma'am, I feel as though it's in your best interest to shut your damned mouth right now before my spite becomes something more sour."

The woman looked at him with a gape. Freed glared at her. Did she not understand that he was a God?

"I allow you my council because I wish to make this place good for you all," Freed continued. He stood up from his throne and started to pace. Those in the room all looked towards him. "I make changes to accommodate you all. And this is what you want from me? To act as a ridiculous mediator for all your petty bullshit."

"Petty?" The woman had the arrogance to actually scoff as if offended.

"Quiet!" He yelled, and the glass in the room cracked at the echoing sound. His jaw clenched and he glared at the woman. "I am a God. I am above you, yet nobody seems to understand that. I am not a fucking serviceman; I am your better!"

Freed's tempered flared, and his eyes pulsated with darkness. From the corner of the room, Bickslow winced a little at the rise in anger. He went to speak but Freed interrupted.

"All of you leave," He roared at the congregated humans in his throne room. "Get out. Now!"

"But we've been waiting since sunset last night," One of the men in the line protested, and Freed turned his glare to him.

"Then you'll learn that next time you should get here earlier, won't you," He spat, acid dripping into his tone and he stalked towards the man. He cowered below Freed, and the God would be lying if he said it wasn't satisfying. When he next spoke, his voice was a calm, threatening tone. "If you have any further objections, I would be delighted to hear them. But be warned of the consequences if I disagree with you."

Bickslow opened the door to the throne room and ushered the humans out before anybody could speak further, shutting the door when it was just him and the God. Freed stormed towards his throne and collapsed onto it, eyes still a shadowy purple glow.

Rather than speaking, the demon simply waited for the God to calm down. Freed was typically a calm man, only reserving his anger for when he had met with other Gods, so to see him acting in such a way as a result of speaking with humans was unusual and concerning. Bickslow knew, when Freed's rage had gotten the best of him, that it was best to allow the man to decompress and let his anger dissipate without interrupting him.

The silence lasted a short while, and was only interrupted when the door to the throne room opened. Bickslow let out a held breath when he saw that it was Evergreen, rather than someone who didn't know Freed and might further his anger. She, too, didn't say anything and waited for Freed to calm, giving him a concerned expression; she must have seen the humans retreating.

"Mindless cretins," Freed eventually said, his voice quieter now. "I am a God, for fucks sake. Does nobody understand that?"

"What actually happened?" Evergreen asked, walking towards Freed and speaking softly.

"The same thing that always happens," Freed growled, though it was aimed more at his lap than at the demon. "I attempt to show an ounce of kindness to people and they see it as weakness. I am their God and they disrespect me, treat me like one of their own. Perhaps the idiots at that intolerable table were correct and I should treat my subjects with cruelty. At least then I wouldn't be forced to endure their mindless whining about their ridiculous problems."

"You know you don't mean that," Bickslow sighed, placing a hand on Freed's shoulder. "She was fucking stupid. You know some people are just up their own asses. There're thousands of people who respect you because you ain't some dictator."

"Perhaps," Freed said, though his voice didn't portray confidence.

"He's right Freed," Evergreen encouraged, sitting on the arm of the throne, and smiling at the God. "Remember what you told Laxus before he left. He has to make sure he doesn't change who he is. You have to do the same thing, keep yourself kind."

Freed didn't say anything, and deflated at the sound of his lover's name. Bickslow and Evergreen shared a look at that.

Though the two of them had known Laxus was important to Freed, they hadn't known just how much the God cared for him until recently. Freed's mood had changed slightly, and he was both more forlorn and had a shorter temper. It was clear that Laxus had been some kind of a light in Freed's life, in some sense, and to have him ripped away from him and into a warzone was harming Freed more than he let on.

The influx of work probably wasn't helping either and the God was facing more stress than he probably ever had before. They did their best to keep him happy, of course, but Freed insisted on keeping himself busy and making more work for himself than needed.

"He'll come back eventually," Bickslow said, in a voice almost soft. He patted the man's shoulder gently.

"He hasn't yet," Freed snapped, looking up with a glare.

"We know he hasn't, Freed," Evergreen sighed, placing a hand on his thigh comfortingly. "But you had to know that it'd take a while for anything to give."

"I suppose," Freed let his gaze fall again.

"You just gotta make sure you're still the man he loves when he comes back," Bickslow grinned. "And that's why you've got the two of us, right? So we can keep you on the straight and narrow for your man. That way, when he comes back covered in scars and even hotter than he was before, the two of you can pick up where you left off and start kissing each other. And you won't have to do it with Ivan Fuckface in charge."

"I suppose not," Freed chuckled, and it was only slightly bitter. "I do understand that what he's doing is important. I just miss him."

"Of course you do," Evergreen smiled. "I don't know what it's like, but the way you smile at him shows how much you care. But you just need to be patient."

Freed agreed with the statement, but didn't say anything. Selfishly he would have rather Laxus not go to the war. He would have offered the man safe haven in his castle and fought off the forces who tried to take him, and he would do so with both tooth and claw. But his demons were right; Laxus needed to fight for the more moral side and Freed couldn't stop him. If Freed were any other God, he too would probably be fighting on Makarov's side at that moment. But he had to look after his people, and doing that meant he had to allow his lover some trust.

"Thank you for putting up with me," Freed eventually spoke again. "I understand that it might get annoying listening to me complain about not being treated well, I'm sorry."

"We agree with you, idiot," Bickslow laughed. "The Gods are dicks to you and some of the new guys down here don't know a good thing when they see it, and they complain about it. You're allowed to rant at us whenever you want."

"Whenever we meet another God's angel and they talk about how they're treated, we realise just how good we get it with you," Evergreen laughed. "And that's quite a claim, because you can be quite annoying when you want to be."

"Oh," Freed raised an eyebrow. He knew Evergreen was baiting him to another, more cheerful topic, and he allowed it to happen. "Give me an example."

"I know," Bickslow grinned, voice loud again to lift the mood. The demons were doing what they always did to get Freed out of a bad mood, wait until he was willing to talk and then be optimistic and loud. "When you saw her looking at the Strauss brother with moony eyes so got him to work in the castle and then you made the climate warmer, so he'd take his shirt off to make Ever implode."

"Yes," Ever muttered. "That was annoying."

Freed chuckled, and his shoulders relaxed, and jaw unclenched. He relaxed in his throne and glanced to the window that had shattered at his shout. He waved a hand towards it and it slowly started to melt back into place.

Just like Laxus' magic was connected to the weather; Freed's was connected to the structure of the Netherworld. He managed to keep his destructive tendencies to the castle, and when he was calm he would fix anything he had broken in his anger. He didn't miss the shared smile of his demons when the window was fixed. They clearly knew that, to an extent, his mental wellbeing was reflected by the structure of his home. Laxus had storm clouds, Freed had crumbling stone.

"The two of you are far too good for me," Freed claimed, cricking his neck.

"You're only saying that because you haven't seen how obedient some of the other angels are," Bickslow chuckled.

Obedience was much less appealing than having friends. Freed wasn't going to say that, though.

"You're fine as you are," Freed assured them.

"That's good. I doubt we'll change anytime soon," Evergreen chuckled, smiling. "But, you do know that if there's anything we can do for you, you just have to ask. We know that this isn't easy for you."

Freed thought for a moment. There was, of course, one thing that he wanted to ask of his demons, but he couldn't. It was a purely selfish request and could endanger their wellbeing. He dismissed the thought almost as it came to him, but apparently his demons had seen the momentary flicker of an idea strike him. They looked at him expectantly, and that didn't stop when he made a passive motion with his hand.

"You needn't do this if you don't want to," Freed began. "In fact it's probably better if you don't. It's a fanciful idea at best."

"Tell us," Evergreen requested.

"Laxus. I need to know that he's alive, and safe," Freed admitted, weakly. "It's killing me not knowing what's happening with him."

"You want us to find him and make sure he ain't injured?" Bickslow concluded, raising an eyebrow towards Freed.

The God nodded, though had no expectations that his demons would indulge his ideas. Bickslow and Evergreen looked to one another and seemed to have a silent conversation between themselves; Freed had often wondered if his demons could actually speak without their voice and they just hadn't told him. After a few seconds of silent communication, they looked back to Freed with a concerning amount of determination in their expressions.

"Will you be okay without us?" Evergreen asked, and her voice was serious.

"You're considering it?" Freed asked. They both nodded, and Freed felt a mixture of sickness and relief. "I-I can merge souls on my own. That's most of your responsibilities as of late."

"We meant if you could look after yourself while we're gone, Freed," Bickslow sighed.

"If I can look after a realm of millions, I can look after myself," Freed spoke with offence shaping his tone. He knew of their reason for asking though.

"We'll leave in the morning," Bickslow stated, and Evergreen nodded.

Freed looked at his demons with shock. He knew they had respect and fondness for him, but hadn't expected this. He was asking his friends to walk into the most vicious battlefield in history, and all because he couldn't bear to not know what was happening with his lover. It was an almost pathetic request and yet they were happy to risk their lives for it.

"Thank you," He whispered, bowing his head to them.

They both smiled, and it made Freed's stomach ache. He loved them both, and they were too good to him, despite their protests. Anyone willing to walk through hell for him was worth more than Freed could give them.

And tomorrow, they would be gone…

He would be alone in his castle.

And he would have to deal with that.

~~~

It is unclear as to how long Freed expected his demons to be gone from The Netherworld, looking for his lover. Many of the records claim it was only meant to be days, but that is heavily contested and criticised. But no matter what the expectations, the time taken to gather any information on Laxus' state was long enough to have a great effect on Freed.

Again, this is something reflected in the 'Knight of Judgement' art piece. The flowers located in both the death Gods eye and heart are reflective of his emotional state.

Art historians claim that the flower located in Freed's eye is reflective of the beauty he saw in the world, and the people. The encroaching purple effect is a show of how, without those he loved to influence his actions, that optimism and beauty he saw in existence was slowly being taken away in his solitude.

The flower in his chest is said to be orange and red as his heart is stained with blood. It acts as a mirror for the more violent side of the man after his loved ones left, something that gets more and more prominent as his seclusion continues.

This can be seen in his interaction with the angel known as Jackal.

Jackal is known to be a cursed angel, a criminal of the war and part of Ivan's Tartaros Nine. He is responsible for some of the most brutal deaths during the war, many of which were humans who he saw collateral damage. He is said to be one of the most sadistically cruel of the angels on Ivan's side, and has often been shown as the man who encouraged Ivan into his most aggressive and twisted attacks.

The death of the angel was seen as a large victory for Makarov's side, and the strike of lightning that sank his ship and led to his drowning is sometimes accredited for a shift in the war. Many people think Jackal's story ends there, but this is untrue.

Jackal's story truly ends in the afterlife, with Freed. And for those with a sensitive disposition, I advise caution into reading the details of this meeting.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

At the back left of Freed's castle was a tower.

Inside the tower was a room that often went unused. A torture chamber of sorts.

Often, those who might have justifiably occupied such a room were never given an afterlife. Luck seemed determined to spawn their souls and bodies in places where they couldn't be found, meaning the truly cruel people usually had their bodies composted and their souls fizzled by insanity before they could even near an afterlife. Fate must determine that death being permanent a larger punishment than anything Freed could have done to them.

That apparently wasn't seen as true with a certain person. Both the body and the soul of Jackal had formed at the foot of Freed's door. It was practically an offering, and Freed understood what he had to do.

An angel's death was similar to a human's, in the Netherworld. Although they were considerably rarer, the process was the same. Death ripped apart the soul and the body, and if they were brought back then they would be indistinguishable from humans. Other than the demons and Freed himself, nobody in the underworld was different from the other. That meant, whereas previously an angel would have a higher tolerance for pain, they were now as breakable and damageable than any human would be.

This was convenient, given what Freed was going to do.

He knew who Jackal was. The murderer of countless, the angel who bathed in the ashes of his victims, the Demigod of destruction. The titles he gained were overly dramatic, but were not exaggerated. Jackal was a murderer, and even the presence of his soul and body had seemingly sent a shiver down the Netherworld.

And he had been given straight to Freed. As a gift almost. The idea that the leader of the Netherworld would punish sinners was something greatly exaggerated, but Freed felt he could conform to the stereotype for now. It might be rather therapeutic.

Fun, even.

A welcome distraction too. After sending his closest demons into the warzone, he had been alone in the castle. The only interactions he'd had were with the people whose souls and bodies he had merged together, and he had dismissed them without a word. Being alone in his castle was something he hadn't experiences in millennia's, and he wasn't dealing with the situation. He was allowing his anger to permeate, with nobody to use as an outlet.

But now he had someone. His anger at how cruel the war had become, and how it affected those he loved, could now be directed at someone who has responsible for it.

Maybe that was why Jackal had been delivered to him where no cruel man had been before. Freed was now a fate worse than death.

The doors to the tower creaked and groaned as they slowly opened, and the light flittering into the room from behind Freed illuminated the dusty chamber dimly. Cobwebs cluttered the room, the stonework lacked the usual polish of the rest of the castle, and the only things that had any level of care attributed to them were the shackles, manacles and chains that were keeping the man contained.

Jackal couldn't move. Metal bands wrapped around his wrists, ankles, biceps, thighs, stomach, neck, and chest. A large metal plate blocked his mouth and, although it couldn't be seen, Freed knew that there was a rusted shaft of metal holding down the man's tongue and resting in his throat.

Freed looked at the man with no sympathy. He knew what he had done.

"Typically, the devil is meant to confront a person with their sins in a situation like this," Freed began, and Jackal looked at him. His expression was hidden by his bounds. "But I expect you lack the morality to feel guilt."

Jackal made a choking, raspy sound. He was laughing.

Freed's didn't show any reaction other than a slight tensing of his posture. He had heard stories about how Jackal worked. His sadistic nature was prevalent in everything he did, and one way he entertained himself was by toying with people. Many of the dead had been forced to beg for mercy by the man, only to have him kill them a moment later. It would be in keeping with his reputation for him to try and antagonise Freed, and he wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

"No," Freed continued. "You much prefer the hands-on approach, I expect."

Clenching his fist, he slammed it forward in a sharp punch to the man's gut. It was a simple enough movement, but the God's strength mixed with the angel's newfound vulnerability forced out a small choking sound. Jackal quickly manipulated it into another throaty laugh, but the pain the action had caused was obvious. Freed looked at him with almost curiosity.

He punched the man three more times, in quick succession, hitting the same part of his stomach each time. His only partially restored body bruised easier than a living person would, and a purple mound spread from where Freed had punched. Jackal was still laughing.

The reaction was interesting to Freed. That was perhaps not what Jackal wanted from it.

"I'm curious to see what your intention is, with the laughter," Freed said, stepping back and looking at the man plainly. "Because even if you succeed in antagonising me, I won't let you out. You'll be here for as long as I want, and I'll hurt you in whatever way I see fit no matter how much you laugh, or how angry you make me."

He just kept laughing.

"Furthermore, if this is some form of manipulation to make me do something I might regret, then I must inform you that my mortality is not as rigid and clear cut as you might think. And with a man such as yourself, regret is unlikely to take effect."

He was still laughing.

And Freed didn't find himself annoyed by it, for the moment. He knew what a manipulator looked like; he had met Ivan after all. All men like that were clearly after a certain reaction and the worst outcome for them was to be denied it. So Freed turned to the side, looked at the large wheel that was attached to the chains containing Jackal, and began to turn it. The shackles tightened around the man, the chains started to stretch him, and the skin bruised beneath the metal.

"I expect you thought yourself above death, so you probably didn't bother to learn the rules of the Netherworld," Freed continued, removing his hands from the crank and looking back to his capture, who was wincing with his eyes. "Your body won't heal, at all. We have people with the ability to heal it, but they work for me, and they will not help you. So anything I do to you, will be a permanent fixture."

Freed absently ran a sharp nail down the man's leg. It split open as if cut by a knife, and Freed noticed the slight widening of the man's eyes.

Good.

"Of course I might heal you eventually. The definition of your muscles, and the lack of any blemishes, shows you keep pride in what you look like," Freed mused aloud, looking him up and down as one might assess their prey. "Ruining it multiple times in multiple ways might be interesting."

Jackal didn't react to that, but Freed had a feeling he would have a comment if he could speak. He thought only for a moment before placing his hand on the large metal gag, pulling it forward and taking the man's head with it. The leather straps flicked open at the pressure, and Freed pulled the rusted iron out of his prisoners' mouth. He didn't miss the raspy cough that Jackal allowed, nor did he miss his dried lips.

He was more affected than he was letting on. Freed almost felt some sympathy.

But he knew what this man had done. The purposeful attacks on the shorelines just to kill humans and hurt them. The joyous laughter he had projected as the skies lit up with death and anguish. The disregard for anything other than his own twisted amusement. This man had lost his chance at sympathy more times than it was possible to count.

"So you're the corpse fucker Ivan's always talkin' about," Jackal rasped.

"He's yet to come up with a more creative insult, it seems," Freed brushed the comment off. "A pity."

Before Jackal could say anything again, he grabbed the man by his neck and lifted him up. The chains fought against it, and strained their grip on Jackal. Freed's claw like nails dug into the man's neck and a slight trail of blood slithered down one of Freed's fingers. Now without the obtrusive gag, Freed could see more how the man was shaking and gritting his teeth to stop some kind of exhalation of pain. Freed's grasp tightened just a little.

"I'm conflicted on how to treat you, Jackal," Freed stated, forcing eye contact with the bound man. "Given this is a form of punishment, it seems only right there to be some kind of irony involved. Perhaps for everyone you've made cry, I should make you cry. For everyone you've left to burn, I burn you. Perhaps I could invite your victims here, use you as a form of entertainment for them. Have them flog you and laugh as you weep, which you will. Although, selfishly, it might be more fun if I were to make you my personal… plaything."

Jackal laughed hoarsely. "Heard that you were a pacifist. This is a surprise."

"Who told you that," Freed chuckled, pushing his claws further into the man's neck. Something popped under the pressure; he didn't know what, but there was more blood now.

"Everyone," Jackal said, and he gargled. Blood was coming from his mouth. "They say you got corrupted by those fucking half-life's you let in here and those little bitch demons. Say that they made ya weak."

"Perhaps they did," Freed mused. "But do you know what else they did?" He leant close to Jackal, grinning. "They left me. And now it's just you and me."

Freed pushed the man forward, as if throwing him to the side, but the chains kept him where he was. Blood slid out of some of the wounds Freed gave him, but he was still laughing weakly. Freed looked at him with intrigue, but didn't say anything. He let the man laugh for a little while before he tired himself out, then he spoke again.

"You see, I've had a lot of time to think as of late," Freed mused, looking at the man as the amusement was settled. "And I've decided, the war doesn't make me sad. It doesn't make me feel bad. It makes me feel angry. Because an imbecilic man and his equally idiotic father decided to take out their anger on the world. Just to destroy it. Not because they need to fight, nor because anything needs to change. Because they're ridiculous little people with so much arrogance that they think they're problems are the world's problems.

"And then there's people like you. The enablers. The puppet masters, perhaps. The people whispering in their ears, telling them they need to act larger. Get angrier and more destructive. To go bigger and stronger because that's what power demands and that's what happens in wars. And all just to feed your evil wank fantasies. You saw an opportunity and you took it, and expected no consequences."

Freed slammed his fist forward and punched the man in his gut again, and Jackal visibly deflated at the action, coughing up blood. The bruise on the man's stomach got larger, and Jackal's laughter was weaker this time.

"Interesting," Jackal commented, voice gravely and quiet now.

"Speak up," Freed demanded with a sharp tone.

"I said it's interesting. Which of the Dreyar's you chose to mention," Jackal cackled, looking up at Freed with a manic grin. Freed's posture tightened at the statement. "You talk about Ivan and the decrepit bastard. But not little Laxus."

"The point being?" Freed demanded, the sound of Laxus' name on the angel's tongue sounding wrong. Evil.

"We all fucking know about what the two of you fuckers do when he's down here," Jackal laughed manically, and Freed tensed. "And daddy Ivan isn't happy. And when he wins he's gonna come down here and get ya. And I've heard what he's gonna do to ya. And you're not gonna like it. And he's gonna make little Laxus watch as he rips open his demonic little secret."

"Don't assume you have the right to say his name."

"What are ya gonna do to stop me," Jackal giggled, allowing himself to go limp in the chains. "Lock me up. Torture me. It ain't working yet. And that'd be ironic – since ya like irony – that you'd be hurting me because little Laxus is away. Because that's why you're acting like this, and not just letting me die. Because you miss him. Ain't that just fucking sweet."

"Don't say his name."

"Or maybe you just miss him shoving his dick in your ass," Jackal cackled again, eyes wide and unhinged as he looked at his torturer. "You'll might have to get used to it. Because if Ivan has his way, there won't be much left of your fuck toy when the war is done."

Freed paused at that, then his gaze sharpened.

"What do you mean?" He asked, voice cutting. "What does he intend to do."

"Oh, I don't think I want to tell you yet," Jackal laughed. "I just heard that Ivan needs a nice little powerhouse for the rest of the fight and has his eyes on little Laxus. But once he's won, he doesn't need him anymore. And he had a lot of plans for traitors, and your Lightning God is the most traitorous little fucker of all. I won't tell you all of what he'll go through. But I think that it will be spectacular, I just wished I could see it."

There was a moment of silence. Then Freed saw red.

Everything that had happened since the war began flashed into his mind. The endless slaughter of innocent people. The forced involvement of his lover. The decisions made to force his friends into the fray. The slow but persistent chipping away at his kindness. The cruelty shown by all who were involved. Everything was twisted and wrong.

And here, before him, was Jackal. An orchestrator of this hellish existence. A manipulator and abuser.

Someone who deserved agony.

He slammed his hand forward again, eyes glowing. Darkness swirled up his arm and manipulated his flesh, replacing his skin with fur and talons and his hand with a claw. He reached out with a snarl, his drumming heartbeat drowning out the sound of Jackal's laughter. His claw dug into the man's chest, ripping open his flesh as if it were nothing. He dug in further, cutting through the flesh, muscle, and bone before finding his target, and he grabbed it.

The man's heart.

He pulled.

Jackal screamed.

Blood dripped from both the wound and the organ, before Jackal slumped. The removed of a heart was a way of killing the undead. It would ensure that the body and soul were split apart again, and couldn't be returned. The rest of the soul's partial existence would be agony. An infinite hell preserved by the last flickers of consciousness.

Freed dropped the organ, letting it fall to the ground. He spun on his heel and allowed the body to slump and bruise in chains, not sparing the angel another glance.

After leaving the room, his boots clicked on the marble as he walked down a corridor. Either side was a stained-glass depiction of both Evergreen and Bickslow, decorations that hadn't been there before. The castle was trying to tell him something, apparently. Either a warning or a judgment on his morality. Freed spared them a glance but stormed through it without much care for his friend's depictions.

At the end of the corridor, he slammed the door shut. The corridor crumbled to nothing behind him, destroying the glass visages of his friends as it did. It was just wreckage in his wake.

~~~

The hand with which Freed removed Jackal's heart was his right. The 'Knight of Judgement' art piece portrays his right hand as being overtaken by thorn like chains, showing the affect the darkness had on him. It acts as judgment for what he did, and when he allowed his cruelty to overtake him and taint his actions.

After that day, Freed was changed. This art piece shows it.

Although it is argued as to whether Freed's actions were justified or not, it is almost unanimous that this was the only time Freed acted solely out of blind rage and anger. This was the only time in the war where he lost himself entirely to his emotions.

Also often disputed is why Freed had destroyed the corridor leading to the torture tower. Some claim he did so because he wished the block his path from the room off so that he could move on from what he had done and not repeat it. Others claim it was a clear objection to the judgment of Bickslow and Evergreen through their stained-glass visages. Either way, the corridor was one room that was never fixed after its destruction.

Despite the fact Freed never acted out of blind anger again, his mind did not heal immediately. The following weeks, he secluded himself in his castle. No demons nor humans were allowed in. The doors were replaced by walls, the windows bricked up, and moat surrounding it filled with melted stones and magma. He had finalised his own prison.

His self-destruction and seclusion continued for a while longer, the precise time is unknown. What is known is that the next time Freed would see any other creature is the return of his demons to the Netherworld, which is often where the story of the end of the war is said to begin.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

There was something wrong in the Netherworld.

It was the first thing that Bickslow and Evergreen noticed when they returned. There was a certain edge to the atmosphere that hadn't been present before. Whereas previously the Netherworld had been welcoming by design – death was jarring enough, why make the new environment hostile to the deceased – now it was darker and sharper almost. It was no longer the bustling city it had once been, but instead was a shell of itself, an endless expanse of buildings.

Two demons glanced at each other with concern. The people who should have populated the streets were nowhere to be seen, the ever-present sound of talking that came with humans had been lost, and the feeling of loneliness was practically palpable.

Their immediate concern was for their God.

As they flew through the streets, they could see the dead were in their homes. Some people were working the farms needed to keep food, but only the bare minimum. The Netherworld was a skeleton of what it once was, and everything the two demons saw were making them more worried for their friend. Freed had done whatever he could to make the place better than this, so to see what had happened in their absence was more than concerning.

"Maybe we should have stayed with him," Bickslow sighed. "At least one of us."

"There's no point in dwelling on that," Evergreen said, looking at the abandoned streets with a frown. "We should just get to him as soon as we can and try and help him."

"Guess we should."

The demons sped up their flight through the city, both wearing expressions of concern as they got nearer and nearer to the castle where their God resided. As the building became more than just a silhouette, they both looked at it with wide eyes.

Whereas previously it had been somewhat welcoming, it now stood both secluded and crumbling. The windows had been replaced by bricks, the moat had been expanded to the point where the castle was on its own island, and the drawbridge was lifted and bolted upright. The brickwork was cracked, and it was clear some of the more vulnerable pieces of stone had fallen to the ground below. Doors were removed and any form of entrance seemed blocked up or destroyed. It was entirely closed off, no doubt with Freed inside.

After flitting around the top of the castle in hopes of finding an entrance, their concern grew. Freed was secluding himself. Completely.

Of course, they couldn't allow this. Freed was a man more emotional than he would openly admit, and clearly the toll of the war was affecting him greatly. Worse, he was a powerful man, and it would be entirely possible that Freed's seclusion could lead to something more destructive. It would only take the wrong thing to happen before Freed's emotions contorted into anger, and he use it against his subjects.

It took a little while, but after flying around the walls of the castle, they managed to find a single unblocked door. It was at the back of the castle, and only allowed access to the private garden. The place where Freed and Laxus had met.

When they entered, they saw the state of disrepair was worse inside. Carpets were muddied, dusty and torn, curtains clumped on the floor having fallen form the walls, paintings were either destroyed or removed, light had been eradicated entirely and shards of brick and stone populated the ground. It was a wreck, and the fact that Freed seemed either unaware of it or simply didn't care sent a surge of fear through the demons.

The castle was a reflection of Freed. If he didn't care about the castle, he didn't care about his own wellbeing.

Guided by the light of Bickslow's glowing souls, they quietly navigated the silent castle. They checked Freed's chambers and the study that he preferred, but saw they were both unoccupied and equally as run down as the rest of the building. They then searched more of the rooms Freed could often be found in, before walking towards the throne room. They had hoped they wouldn't need to go there, that Freed would be elsewhere, but all signs pointed that this was where he was.

Freed was never in the throne room for a good reason. It was normally the source of his anger.

When they pushed open the door, they were greeted with the sight of their God. The room itself was more ruined than any other, with streams of light flitting in through the cracks in the walls, hitting Freed in various places. Every decoration was in tatters, burned away or non-existent. The only thing still in its former glory was the throne itself, and that made Evergreen and Bickslow look on in worry. Freed hated that throne, only used it when needed, and yet now it was the only thing he was bothering to keep immaculate.

Why he was doing that they didn't know, but it wasn't going to be for a good reason.

Freed himself looked different too. His face was emotionless, his right hand replaced with an obviously demonic claw, his clothing ripped and in the same state as the castle, and his right eye was pulsating in a dark purple glow.

"You've returned," He commented, looking at his demons enigmatically.

"What the hell happened here?" Bickslow demanded, looking around in almost disbelief.

"Progress," Freed shrugged, not moving from his throne. "I had something of a realisation. Call is an epiphany if you want to romanticise it."

"Okay," Evergreen said slowly, approaching Freed with something akin to caution. Freed raised an eyebrow at that. "And what did you realise."

"That humans brought this upon themselves," Freed said plainly. "They worship these Gods without care for the consequences. They build up their dammed egos to the point where they believe that their Gods can do no wrong, and the Gods believe them right back. They're complicit in their own destruction. They have a hunger for mistreatment, whether they're aware of it or not, and I have granted them their wish. I expect they're thrilled at what they've got."

"Freed, that ain't-" Bickslow began, but Evergreen put a hand on his arm to stop him. They needed the full story before they could help.

"Why did you let the castle get like this?" She asked.

"I didn't see the point in maintaining it," Freed stated, looking at his demons with almost curiosity. "Nobody but me is going to see it, and I don't particularly care for the frivolities of it all. Why waste the effort in making it look respectable if there's nobody to appreciate it?"

"And the moat?" Bickslow prompted.

"There were complaints about the way I was changing things, and people thought it wise to try and change my mind," Freed sighed, in annoyance most likely. "The moat acts as a deterrent. There's no way to approach me, and those who try will have their bodies boiled. It proved quite effective, after the first few attempts were unsuccessfully made."

"And why remove the windows?"

"Predominantly to further keep out anyone who wished to try their luck in speaking with me," Freed glanced at where a window had once been, then back to his demons. "And partly because the light seeping in was a bother. I can see without it; it was simply a functionality for the human's ease. Unneeded now."

The two demons shared a look. They had perhaps expected a blind rage from their God, but this calm, detached nature was a lot more concerning. It was as if all the emotion had been sapped out of him.

"What made you do this Freed?" Evergreen asked, stepping closer again. Bickslow did the same.

"I told you, I came to a greater understanding of the world," Freed shrugged. "Humans are addicted to pain and turmoil. They bring it upon themselves so it makes their short existences seem worthwhile; they force agony on themselves so that they can feel better when they get rid of it. I have been a crutch to them, and they haven't earned my help, so I have removed it from them. I have also removed their influence from me."

While Evergreen looked at their God with concern, Bickslow's eyes widened and he felt a rush of guilt wash over him. He had seen emotions of all type in humans, both repressed and volatile, and he knew what Freed was doing. He was a man of pride and duty, and he wouldn't allow his true feelings to be known to anyone. But it was plain to see that he was lonely.

Bickslow and Evergreen had left him alone when he was struggling. He was more alone than he had ever been, and he had closed himself off.

Perhaps he thought that emotions were the reason he was hurting so much on his own, and was trying to remove their influence from him. Perhaps he just wasn't thinking straight, and his self-inflicted seclusion from the world had led him to make stupid decisions. But it was very clear what was happening; Freed was angry and lonely and didn't know how to deal with it, so was lashing out at the world.

Walking up to Freed, he was met with an inquisitive eyebrow raise and nothing more. Before Freed could stop him, the demon wrapped his arms tightly around the man, pulling him into a tight hug.

Freed went rigid against Bickslow's chest and for a moment he was unmoving.

"I'm sorry we left you," Bickslow stated softly, and his voice quivered. "And I'm sorry you're having to go through all this shit with nobody to understand how hard it is for you. And I'm sorry that people constantly undermine you. I'm sorry we haven't been here for you and I promise we won't do that to you again. But we are here for you, and we love you."

A sob slipped through Freed's lips.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Bickslow, clinging to him as if he might disappear. Bickslow tightened his own grip, and allowed Freed to press his face into his torso for as long as he needed. He was probably crying, and most likely wouldn't end the hug until he stopped. That was fine, he could deal with that.

Evergreen had walked over and was gently stroking Freed's back, and the two demons shared a sympathetic look. They knew now that one of them should have stayed behind to look after him, they knew that Freed wasn't as in control as he liked to think and should have anticipated he might need help.

But like Evergreen had said earlier, they couldn't focus on that.

Eventually Freed did remove himself from the hug, and the dampness around his eyes told Bickslow that he had indeed cried. They didn't comment on anything as Freed rubbed the back of his left hand against his face, cleaning it slightly and making himself look more presentable. The glowing in his right eye diminished now, but the effect of his time alone was still obvious in both the castle and in his demonic right arm.

"I shouldn't need to rely on you," Freed whispered. "And I'm sorry that I do."

"Everyone needs people, Freed," Evergreen said softly. "And the people who think otherwise are the people who start wars and bring cruelty for no reason. You are not one of those people."

"But what I've done over the last-"

"Anything you've done can be fixed, Freed," Bickslow firmly stated, leaving no room for argument. "You're allowed mistakes, more than anyone. People can forgive you and move on, they're good at that."

Freed thought for a moment, before ducking his head in defeat. Evergreen patted his shoulder while Bickslow ruffled the top of his already messy head. Freed chuckled slightly at the action, though his heart was barely in it. The demons wished that they could do more to help their friend, but he could only heal himself. And, unfortunately, part of that healing process would involve the God's lover, something which Freed would soon find out about.

"We found Laxus," Evergreen said after Freed looked up again. The man's head snapped towards her. "And I'm going to need you to promise to keep calm."

"If he okay?" Freed demanded, regret replaced by a small mixture of fear and anger.

"He's alive," Bickslow said calmly, and the lack of affirmation of anything better made Freed tense. "A couple of weeks ago, he was captured by Ivan's forces. They're using him against Makarov, we're not exactly sure how, but they're managed to draw his lightning out of him against his will."

Freed's eyes went hollow as he thought back to what Jackal had said. If captured, they would use Laxus for as long as needed, before killing him.

"Are they hurting him?"

"Yes," Evergreen sighed, placing a hand on Freed in the hope of calming him. "We're not sure, but we think they're using some kind of torture to get him to use his lightning."

"We couldn't save him on our own, he's heavily guarded," Bickslow confessed, looking at the floor with an angered expression. "We did what we could, but we had to leave. We came here immediately because you needed to know. I'm sorry we couldn't save him."

"What exactly are they doing to him?" Freed said, standing up.

"They've got him in chains, and when we were there they were constantly beating him," Evergreen explained softly, watching as Freed moved. "There's these things, they look like crystals, which looked like they were coming from his back and his chest. Every time he was hit, and a spark of lighting came across him, the crystals picked it up and sent it into a metal structure. We think it's a weapon, a lightning canon of some kind."

"They're beating him," Freed echoed quietly. "They're torturing him."

Many things happened next.

The castle seemed to shift around them, stone cracking against stone, shards of glass and rubble lifting from the air and floating towards the walls, ruined tapestries and curtains reforming and returning to their previous places around the room. Light streamed into the room where the windows now reformed. The room was just as it once had been, in its perfected glory, and both demons felt the rumble of movement through the castle that told them the entire building was the same.

Freed himself changed too. Any signs of him being haggard or exhausted were removed, and replaced with perfection. He stood upright, tall, and proud. He was more regal and God-like in that moment than he had ever been.

Two sharp, curved horns twisted out of his head, parting his hair. His eye glowed bright as he looked back to his demons, an expression of barely restrained fury on his face. Air seemed to twist around him and darken, as if magically inclined to support his rage and passion. He was not just a God, at that moment. He was a warrior.

"I will speak to my people," Freed proclaimed, turning on his heal and started to move through his castle.

"And say what?" Evergreen asked, sprouting wings to keep up with him.

"To announce that we will no longer be passive in this war," Freed stated, motioning to the drawbridge which fell with a dramatic shutter, lava sloshing around it. "They have captured the man I love and are using his gifts to slaughter innocent people. His own father is responsible and will show no guilt nor compassion. This war has been happening for years and has twisted those who have been dragged into it. It is a blight on anyone who has seen it yet was born of the whim of two egotists. But it will continue no more."

"What are you gonna do?" Bickslow questioned as Freed walked out of his castle for the first time in months.

"I will bring hell to them," Freed proclaimed. "And anyone who dares try and stop me will do battle with the devil himself."

~~~

The day the doors to the Netherworld opened was the day the war ended. The day Freed ended it.

It was a momentous occasion, one which will forever be recognised in history. The day that the God of Death saw the war for the first time, and decided that he would end it. The day where the dead fought for the living. The day the leading Gods were shown for what they were; weak and uncaring to those below them.

On that day, Freed became a fighter. The horns he grew symbolised that, both as a reflection of the helmets worn by warriors as well as a clear declaration of his strength. The God was a weapon, something dangerous and to be feared. He had no weaknesses, no vulnerabilities. He was something that could not be destroyed by lesser beings, not could be looked down upon. Freed was often assumed to be an incompetent leader of the Netherworld by other Gods, but in that moment he was more devilish than any God could hope to be.

That day, everything Freed did struck fear into the hearts of Gods.

The day the doors to the Netherworld opened was often feared. In prophecy it claimed to be the day the dead rose to overtake the living, angered by their treatment and mortality. Even Gods were taught to fear the opening of hell.

And when it happened, a shiver went through the world.

And even a God as twisted as Ivan Dreyar felt fear.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

Ivan was a bastard.

Laxus had always thought this, ever since he had realised just how much of his life had been manipulated by his father. The man was a cruel and vindictive person, doing whatever he wanted and hurting anyone he could just to get his own way. The only thing that he had ever thought of was the best way to achieve his own goals, all of which were only designed to increase his power and influence. He had never been a good person.

But now, he was more than just cruel. He was more than just a bastard. He was evil. There was no other term for what he was doing, no other way to describe him.

He had captured Laxus himself. He's set up a diversion, starting a battle on the land and murdering an entire town of humans just for the sake of it. Laxus had taken to the skies to stop the forces, but had apparently left himself open for attack, and Ivan had taken the chance. One of his angels had put Laxus to sleep, and the thunder God had awoken in his father's clutches.

When he had woken up, he was in chains. The room was small and filled with smoke, something of an engine room Laxus guessed. He didn't have time to dwell on that, as when he looked down to see a large, jagged blue crystal had been sewed into his skin. He had panicked instantly, lightning crackling across his skin. It flickered towards the crystal and was absorbed by it, skittering up a large metal column that he was wired up to. It wasn't hard to understand what was happening, this was some way for his father to steal his lighting and use it for whatever he pleased.

Bastard.

Over the next few days, Laxus had been forced to endure a lot. Ivan knew that his lightning was an instinctive thing, and that the easiest way to get it from him was to hurt him. Well, perhaps not the easiest, but Ivan didn't seem to care.

Beatings and threats came thick and fast, the intensity of them depending on how much lightning he needed. For one particularly large fight where the Lighting Dragon – the name he had given the weapon – was needed, Ivan had decided to take a knife to Laxus' face. No doubt a jagged scar would be there when Laxus next saw his reflection.

He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think much about anything that was happening, instead he was just focusing on trying not to show how his father was affecting him.

If nothing else, he would keep his damned dignity.

It was getting harder to do that, though.

Mostly, one of Ivan's angels had been beating Laxus, but Ivan himself sometimes did it. Today was one such day. The old man had rid himself of the metal armour he had constantly been wearing since the start of the war, and was holding something that Laxus had become all too familiar with. A two-pronged weapon that Ivan would have rested against an open flame. It was simple, vicious, and effective. So Ivan either wanted a lot of electricity today, or just wanted to hurt him.

"It really is a shame I have to do this," Ivan commented as he walked forward. "It would have been much easier if you had just followed logic and chosen to fight my side without objection. I wouldn't have had to kill you that way."

Laxus didn't speak. He wouldn't speak.

"Well, perhaps kill isn't the correct term," Ivan continued, gently running the sharp tool against Laxus' torso. "Because if I killed you, you'd go into the arms of that little harlot of yours. Rather, I'll force you into something akin to death."

Gritting his teeth, Laxus glared at his father. He didn't know how the man knew about his relationship with Freed, but it was now one of Ivan's favourite ways to torment him.

"I've a few ways in which I could do that," Ivan mused aloud. "There's burying you alive, of course. Drowning you then resuscitating you only to drown you again. I could do some experimentation on the ways in which a God can replenish their body after grievous injury. Or I could just keep you here and make an example out of you in case anybody had any thoughts about trying to usurp me. The possibilities are endless."

"Fuck yourself," Laxus growled, voice hoarse from lack of water.

"Oh, you're speaking today are you?" Ivan asked almost conversationally, pushing the prong against Laxus' new face scar. "What's got you so chatty?"

"You won't win," Laxus grunted.

"Oh I think that I will," Ivan chuckled, pushing the device further against Laxus' injury. "In fact, I think I'll win rather soon. My father is far too reliant on those angels of his. But I think by the end of the week, they'll be here with you. Think of it as a present, some company for you."

"He'll stop you."

"No. No I don't think he will," Ivan chuckled. "He's struggling already. It's why he hasn't tried to save you yet. Did you know that? There's not even been an attempt. Not even a single angel has been sent for you. Not one."

Laxus growled, and lightning flickered across his skin. The crystals hummed as they absorbed it, and Laxus winced at the fizzing sensation that he was forced to endure. Ivan laughed at the reaction, pushing the hot poker further against his sensitive skin. Laxus grit his teeth and did what he could to force back the shout of pain that was trying to fight its way out of him. His entire body was tensed up, but his father clearly saw the pain Laxus was in. He was almost revelling in it.

The sessions could last days. And with the sadistic glee that the man seemed to be taking in his pain told Laxus that today would be such a session.

He had a plethora of devices that he took delight in using. He had brought them all with him and looked through them, settling on one and raising it up.

Throughout his weeks in his father's clutches, Laxus had done whatever he could to distract himself from his pain. He focused on happier memories; those of his grandfather before he had started his war. His time in the underworld, laughing and relaxing with the Raijinshuu and his lover. It didn't stop Ivan's torture from hurting any more, but at least it was something of a distraction, as well as a comfort.

Even thinking about Freed was calming. Laxus could picture him perfectly. His sharp features, his long silky hair, his strong arms, his beautiful laughter, his ardent passion. Everything about him was perfect, and Laxus missed seeing him so damn much.

They should have spoken after Laxus had left for the war.

He might never see him again.

Shutting his eyes, he tried to let memories of his lover overtake him. The first time they had seen each other, in Freed's garden, where they had spoken about the difficulties of being a God that nobody seemed to talk about. The meals they shared together, where Freed was slowly introducing Laxus to more of the human's culture. Just lying in bed with him, side by side while relishing in the man's beauty. His everything.

He had such an overwhelming presence. When he walked into a room, Laxus could feel him there. Freed had once said that Laxus had an aura to him; something about humidity and a chill. Laxus thought Freed had one too; a level of coolness, like the feeling of running your hand through moss. There was also a smell of damp stone, which was slight and barely noticeable to anyone but Laxus.

It was almost like he could feel it now.

Then, after a moment, he realised he could feel it.

He opened his eyes to see that Ivan had stopped his torment, and was looking around with confusion. Laxus suddenly felt a familiar feeling of comfort overtaking him. The feeling he got whenever he had entered the Netherworld. It was like he was there, with Freed beside him. With his moss like coolness and his stone scent. It was as if the Netherworld was bleeding into the world of the land of the living.

Then, Laxus realised what was happening.

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

"What?" Ivan snapped, glaring at his bound son. "What is this?"

"You can feel it too," Laxus laughed again. "You wanna know what it is, huh? I don't think you'll like the answer."

"Tell me!" Ivan shouted, backhanding Laxus. The blonde kept laughing despite the hit.

"Guess you wouldn't recognise it, since you've not been down there. But that's what I feel like whenever I go down to the underworld," Laxus laughed at the look of panic that flicked onto Ivan's face. "And if we can both feel it all the way out here, I think you can guess what's happening."

"No," Ivan growled.

"The devil's coming out to claim the world," Laxus quoted from one of many prophesies about the Netherworld opening its doors. "I wonder how happy he'll be when he finds out what you've been doing to me."

Laxus continued laughing while Ivan slowly looked towards him, before flicking on his heel and walking out of Laxus' chamber. Laxus allowed his limbs to fall limp in his bounds, closing his eyes and allowing the sensation of Freed to overtake him. Even in the situation, with the residual pain from Ivan's attacks, this was the most comfortable he had felt in months.

Freed was coming. And, at least for Laxus, that meant hope.

~~~

Often, this is where people being telling the story of how the war ends.

The gates to the Netherworld open, the God of Darkness walks out of his domain and lays judgment on those who have caused slaughter. The suffering ends and the war is finished. In the retelling of the God's of Fiore, this is one of the most famous and important moments of history. This is reflected in poems, songs, artwork, and stories told about it.

Again, the 'Knight of Judgement' reflects this.

The dagger laden with an all-seeing eye is a reflection of the strength that he showed in these moments. It is often referred to as the Blade of Judgement. Both the way Freed saw the injustices in the world, and how he punished them. It encapsulates how, in that moment, he was both Judge, Jury and Executioner.

A role which ended the war and gifted him the title 'God of Judgement'.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

The opening of the Netherworld was near apocalyptic.

From the depths of the ocean walked forward an endless army of corpses. They were all unkillable, without fear nor regret, and brandishing weapons that could kill angels and humans alike. Above them floated their souls, warping and swirling through the air as dark purple fire. The fire of a soul cannot touch a living creature, and thus acted further as weapons against the oncoming fight.

Waves sloshed and churned as the water was toyed with, the armada of bodies waling atop the surface. The boats of the already fighting fleets were taken on the whim of the seas, losing all control, and becoming useless. They creaked and moaned in protest, but the sound fell to nothing.

Instead, there was silence.

The shadow of the God of Death loomed over the entire battlefield. His size was monolithic, and he looked down upon the living with an expression of calm, quelling rage. He towered over both men and mountains alike, and the ferocious wind of battle hit him and flung back the endless green hair that seemed to merge with the cloak he wore. It plastered against the surface of the sea, and the Death God slowly walked forward, creating waves of tidal size with each movement.

The waves gained a purple sheen to them, both by the shade of the God and the aura he exuded. The sensation of death and the Netherworld was slowly tainting the land of the living.

In that moment, eclipsed by the sun behind him and looking on the living with a sneer, he was more of a God than he had ever been. And it seemed everyone who saw him wouldn't dare deny the fact, as they looked upon the man with fear.

With every step, the fighting stopped.

The Death God looked at the congregation before him. At Gods and angels and humans fighting a war that should have never happened. How they had been twisted by pointless agendas and how many of them had been turned to savages. How once good people now saw the removal of life as an everyday occurrence, or even pleasure, rather than the travesty that it was.

Life ending should not be seen as a possibility. It should not be seen as something required for the future. It should be seen as something that only nature and time should control. These Gods had removed fate's hand in death, and for that they must be punished.

"Stand before me, Gods," The Death God demanded, voice echoing through the ocean.

He waited a moment. Nobody came, it felt like nobody moved.

Lifting his hand, the Death God allowed swirls of magic to form around him. Runic lettering fluttered through the air, a language of the Gods often thought to be lost or dead, at his control. They shot off in two directions, hunting down the Gods responsible for the war. A moment later they returned to him, this time carrying two men in their grasps, who struggled against them. The bounds were tight around the ruling Gods, and the Death God looked to them with indignation.

The last time he had seen them in person was when he had stormed form their meeting. He had forgotten just how human they looked. How pathetic they looked. But they had caused such destruction and heartbreak, and all for nothing.

They were ants compared to him.

"Look upon your creation," Freed demanded, making a gesture which turned the two men around.

They were forced to look over the battlefield that they had made. A battlefield Freed had no doubt that neither man had stepped onto themselves. They saw the hordes of corpses Freed had at his disposal, the ocean of souls that had been ripped from their bodies because of the whims of the two men, the angels and Gods that would soon be dead as well, the blood that had stained both the hands of the fighters and the water itself.

"Do you deem your actions good?" He asked, voice loud enough for everyone fighting to hear.

"Not damn near enough," Ivan snarled struggling against the runes keeping him in place.

With a quick hand gesture, Ivan was flung forward. He was tiny in comparison to the Death God, and struggled under the intense gaze of the man who controlled him. He sent a defiant glare to the other man, who looked at him without pity nor fear. He showed no emotion at all.

"Repeat yourself," The Death God demanded.

"I said it ain't near enough," Ivan growled, and the runes tightened around him slightly. "This world needs to change, or it'll die, and I'm the man who's going to change it. And no corpse fucking Demi-God is going to stop me."

"Still with the same insult. You're a tiresome man, Ivan Dreyar," The Death God chuckled, but his face showed no humour.

"I will slaughter you like I have anyone who has gotten in my way," Ivan spat, wincing as the runic bounds got tighter still.

"Like you would your own son?" Makarov spoke up, voice gravely and a growl. "You're disgusting."

"You raised a deviant, old man," Ivan growled to his father. "How you can be proud of him is astonishing to me. You should have killed him at birth, for all the good he's done to either of us. I am proud I have done what is required of me, and once this imposition is dealt with I will finish my work and end his disrespect."

With closed eyes, the Death God sent another flurry of runes to find Laxus. It might take longer, Ivan no doubt kept him hidden, but they would find him.

"He is the only good thing you've done," Makarov continued. "And when I found out whatever you've done to him you will be beaten for each scratch you're responsible for; you can be sure of that."

"It's a shame that you will not live to see that opportunity," Ivan retorted.

"Silence!" The Death God yelled. "You are both unimportant, inconsequential in this war from this point on. Neither of you will make an order, demand, or bring further death. You are both to be silent. Unless you wish to fight me, your war is over."

"You couldn't begin to fight me," Ivan spat, looking to the Death God again.

"Yes, I could," The God snarled back, and Ivan flinched at the sudden emotion. "You, Ivan Dreyar, are nothing but a bug that I could crush beneath me. I have an infinite army of souls and corpses, all rotten by your manipulation. They feel rage and anger towards you that is unrivalled, and that fury will drive them to be more vicious and cruel than your most twisted of dreams.

"My soldiers are unkillable, and immovable. They cannot be reasons with nor can they be stopped. And with every life my soldiers take, we recruit another. And endless spiral of people who can and will put an end to your power, Mr Dreyar."

As the Death God spoke, the bounds around both Makarov and Ivan got tighter. The latter seemed to struggle with breathing now.

"I am more a God than you could ever wish to be, and I will do whatever is needed to end your tyranny on this land," The death God growled, lowing his gaze on the man with sadistic calm. "So help me I will bring rule on it myself if that is what's required of me."

And it would be easy, oh so easy to do it.

He could shape the world in his image, remove those who would cause harm and destruction onto it in the same way that Ivan had to him. He would remove the judgement and prejudices that had plagued his own life, and preach better ideals to his subjects. He could be both the king of the Netherworld and the living.

A flutter of runes suddenly appeared before him, and there stood Laxus.

The God was naked, revealing the extent of his injuries. Scars and bruises and cuts and burns populated his skin where previously there had been none. Marks that connoted restraints were still visible around his arms and legs, and his exhaustion told the Death God that Laxus had not slept nor rested since his capture. He looked more vulnerable than he had ever been, and something inside the God of Death's heart broke at the sight.

He couldn't be the ruler of the living.

Because wanting that might twist him into someone who could hurt another in the way Ivan had hurt Laxus.

All he could be was himself.

Freed made a motion with his hand, his body twisting to its normal size as he stepped through the air. He brought Laxus into his arms and grasped him tight, the two Gods holding one another as if their lives depended on it. They buried their faces into the other's neck, not speaking nor sobbing. But they both felt a rush of exhaustion, relief, and joy flood through them as they were brought together again.

Laxus shook in his arms slightly, and Freed made a quiet promise to him that he would do whatever he could to help the God. Laxus nodded into Freed's neck and pressed his lips against it, feeling a sense of safety that he hadn't in months. A sense of home.

"Fucking disgusting," Ivan rasped.

Pulling away, Freed removed his cloak and wrapped it around Laxus, who took in the warmth of the clothing readily. Freed looked towards the two elder Dreyar's with anger on his face again. Ivan had a sneer which he was trying to maintain despite losing his breath, and Makarov was looking at the display between Laxus and Freed with an expression of confusion and disbelief. Freed ignored it as best he could as he walked towards the two bound men.

"Ivan Dreyar," He began, walking to the struggling man first. Ivan stared directly at him in some ridiculous display of ego. "You are made of cruelty and nothing more. Your actions are done without repent nor regret. Your goals are selfish and the way you attempt to realise them are evil. You have shown no guilt nor understanding of what you have done. What do you say to this?"

"Fuck you," Ivan grunted, the bounds getting tighter and tighter.

"Very well," Freed sighed, raising his left hand. "You cannot be changed. You cannot be fixed. You cannot be trusted. Therefore, you will be killed."

"You can't kill a God," Ivan laughed, and Freed shook his head.

"No. You can't kill a God," He took a step forward. "I can."

The runes around the God started to glow, burning into him. They spiralled around him, their lettering blurring into purple bands that tore into his skin. The sound of their humming could only do so much as to mute out his screaming as his flesh was torn open and scolded. The process was soon covered by a blurring purple halo of runes, which died away a moment later and left Ivan's body desecrated, cut apart and scolding. His soul started to rise from his body, but Freed ripped it open with a flick of his wrist, dismissing it entirely. He would get no afterlife, nor did he deserve one.

Freed turned slowly towards Makarov, who was looking on the body of his son with a look more disappointed than grieving. He looked towards Freed and his expression seemed to be one of acceptance. At least he had some morality left.

"Makarov Dreyar," Freed continued. "In this war, you chose to fight for the freedom of the people you govern. But by doing so, you forgot the value of life. It became unimportant, and people just tools for your victory. Furthermore, you dragged other Gods into this fight and infected them with your violent mindset. You were both complicit and responsible for the deaths of many, and you will be punished accordingly."

"I understand," Makarov hung his head.

"Wait," Laxus said, voice slightly hoarse. "You don't need t'–"

"Let me finish," Freed put a gentle hand up to quell his lover, still looking at Makarov. "This world needs a ruler, and you were once a good one. Throughout the war you have been changed from who you once were, and you need to become that man again. You must relearn the value of a human life, and how important kindness and respect are. Furthermore, you must learn that you are not above the humans, rather their servant and protector. Do you agree?"

"I do."

"Then your punishment will be this," Freed continued. "You will walk this land, and see every inch of it. You will see every human that walks upon it. You will see heartbreak and joy and birth and death and understand it as every human does. No living creature will see you, and you will walk alone. You will use this time to reflect on your actions, and how better you will serve these people. Once you have seen every corner of the land, we will meet again, and I will determine if you're ready to rule. In the time before that happens, your grandson will take the place as Leader of the Gods temporarily, and I will act as his advisor."

Makarov nodded with his head bowed. He seemed to understand that this was a kindness. A mercy. Nothing more.

"Before you leave, I'm sure that your grandson will wish to speak with you. Take the opportunity while you still have it."

He released the runes that were holding Makarov in place, and the two Dreyar's walked through the air and towards one another. Freed watched as they pulled each other into their arms and hugged, Makarov whispering what Freed could only assume was an apology. Laxus seemed to have forgiven him, so long as he accepted what Freed was suggesting was the right thing to do. When Makarov assured him that he would come back a better man, Freed felt a sense of relief. He had mainly offered Makarov the chance at redemption for Laxus' sake.

After the two men had said their goodbyes, Freed made a gesture with his hand and the older God was swirled in runes, taken somewhere on the land that hadn't been completely destroyed by the war, so his punishment could begin.

Laxus and Freed walked towards each other, and rested their foreheads together. They stood in silence for a moment, relishing in each other's presence in such a way that they hadn't been able to do for months. To be together again, in one another's arms, was such a strong relief neither had expected, but both needed so damn much. Neither man was willing to let go, and Freed slowly leant up and pressed his lips against Laxus', uncaring of who saw it.

Kissing his lover was euphoria.

Evergreen and Bickslow, who had watched Freed's proclamations from the side-lines, slowly flew towards both men. When they broke their kiss and pulled the other close, both demons were dragged into the embrace with them. Freed felt tears prickle at his eyes because of it.

The three people he loved more than anything were here with him again. At his side.

"I love you all," He whispered into someone's head. "So much."

They stayed in each other's arms for a time, before eventually pulling apart and looking at the battlefield before them. The fighting had stopped – it felt like the world itself had stopped – and everyone was looking at them. Looking at Freed in particular.

He took a step forward from his loved ones, and made the proclamation to everyone involved in the fight.

The war, finally, was over.

~~~

It was in those moments that Freed gained the title of the God of Judgment. Where he looked at the actions of the two Gods and sentenced them for their crimes. He looked into their souls and saw darkness in one, and potential for good in the other. He used this judgment to change the course of history for the better, and for that the world should be thankful.

His judgment did not end there. In the ensuing days he had every major fighter of the war take council with him, from both sides of the fight. He judged them both on their ability to be good and the possibility for reformation. He devised punishments suited for them all.

Thus, he became the God of Judgement. This is reflected in the 'Knight of Judgment' art piece by the reflection of the scales of justice. The two skulls represent the value someone puts on a life, something pivotal for Freed's own judgment.

This is where some might end the story.

However, this is not an appropriate stopping point for the life of Freed Justine. As established, his actions were heavily influenced by those he loved. It is, in my view, important to explore how these relationships evolved and changed after he had ended the war. Thus, the story continues and ends more happier than some historians may tell you.

Levy McGarden; An Examination and Retelling of the Fiorean Gods

~~~

"At last, you're here!"

At Evergreen's exclamation, Freed chuckled. He walked into the garden of his castle, where a small table had been set up on the patio beside the pond. Both of his demons were already sitting there, and most likely had been waiting for a little while for both him and his lover to leave the castle to meet with them.

They did this once a week. They put aside an afternoon to meet up, talk, and share a drink.

Freed had been the one to suggest it. His time alone in the castle had made him realise a lot of things, and one was just how important his loved ones were. His castle was large, and felt larger when he was alone. He had relied on their support more often that he would have previously admitted, and wanted to treat them better than he had in the past. This was his solution.

There were rules for the meetings. No talking about their various duties. They couldn't bring a bad attitude with them. They had to try something new from human culture each time.

The reason both Freed and Laxus were late was, as the God's in charge of a post-war earth, they always had a lot of work to do. Today was no exception; they had spoken to two of Makarov's high-ranking angels about what they had done during the war and what they should do next to become better. It had taken longer than they had expected, but thankfully for no other reason than one of the angel's had arrived late. Laxus and Freed had done their job and walked from the throne room to the garden quickly, side by side.

"Apologies for the lateness," Freed spoke. "Apparently timekeeping isn't something Mr Fullbuster excels at."

"You know the rules. No work talk," Bickslow chastised, though he grinned.

"Yeah Freed," Laxus chuckled into Freed's ear. "You know the rules."

Freed shook his head, half tempted to point out their short walk to the patio had been dominated by Laxus muttering about the angel in question not arriving on time. Instead, he took his seat close to the pond and absent flicked his eyes over the table. It had been Bickslow's job to decide what part of living culture they would be exploring today, and he usually went for something that could be eaten. Today was no different.

Seemingly picking up on Freed curiosity, Bickslow handed him an empty glass and plate. He poured fresh lemonade into the glass from a pitcher, and then cut a slice of chocolate cake and placed it on the plate. Freed quirked an eyebrow at the cake.

"We're meant to try something new, with the intention of expanding our knowledge of their culture," Freed commented. "The last three times you've been in charge, we've had cake."

"Different recipes," Bickslow grinned. "And if you say it doesn't count, then you're disregarding the time and effort put into this recipe in particular. Which is a real dick mood if you ask me."

"You really are intolerable sometimes, aren't you," Freed chuckled, shaking his head.

After that, they fell into the normal routine of these meetings. They talked, joked, teased fun at each other and enjoyed an afternoon without responsibility. It was a welcome break for them all, and each of them were glad when Freed had proposed they do it. Particularly Evergreen and Bickslow, who had been taking on the slack that Freed's occasional absences had left in the Netherworld.

Although there was no setting sun in Freed's realm, it was clear that the evening was turning to night by the gradual quieting of the world outside the castle. People were returning to their homes to sleep, as their bodies demanded.

Returning the netherworld to its old state had been a large undertaking after the war had ended. First, Freed had been forced to merge the souls back together with their bodies after they had been split for his army, which had taken weeks of literal endless work. Then he had to get back to bringing the culture of the Netherworld to its lively state. The first thing he had done was to make a general apology to everyone for his angered and dismissive behaviour as of late. He then made personal apologies to those in particular he had wronged.

He did so reluctantly to the woman who complained about her neighbour stealing her food.

It was slow and somewhat arduous, but it was working. Slowly he was regaining their respect and improving the Netherworld from what it had once been. There were now more decorations lining the streets, as well as more placed to gather and be social. The open-air marketplace and cafés were particularly popular, and had been very helpful in making the Netherworld feel more human. They had been Laxus' idea.

"Okay," Laxus said, stretching his arms as he stood up. "It's getting late, and we all know that if we don't leave soon Bix'll start teasing Ever about the big guy she likes, and I don't wanna pull them apart again. So I think I'm gonna call it a night."

"I do not like him," Evergreen exclaimed.

"And teasing her about him is my favourite part of the evening!" Bickslow whined.

"Well, perhaps we'll allow you to do it when you don't decide to get us a chocolate cake for us to eat again," Freed said with a smirk, and Bickslow pouted at him. "I think I might be done for the night too."

The Death God stood up also, and moved beside Laxus. The Thunder God grinned and wrapped an arm around his lover, giving a curt wave to Freed's demons after they bid the two Gods farewell. Freed also wished them both a pleasant night as a pure white cloud appeared above the perfect garden, a stream of lighting slamming down and hitting them both, absorbing them inside of it and transporting them to Laxus' own home.

A moment later, they walked through to Laxus' bedroom. The entire place was open and airy, modelled after the architecture of the buildings from the Greek islands. It was a pleasant place, and Freed wouldn't deny he enjoyed the view from above the clouds.

Glancing down, Freed's eyes landed on a large map of the earth placed upon a plinth. It was partly coloured black, signifying where Makarov had walked as part of his punishment. He was making his way across the land, slowly but certainly. When he caught him looking at it, Laxus wrapped an arm around Freed's waist from behind.

"How long d'you think it'll take?" The Thunder God asked.

"About a year, at this rate," Freed said, turning in Laxus' arms and resting against his lover. "Do you miss him?"

"A bit, but he's gonna be better for doing it," Laxus shrugged.

"I hope so," Freed smiled, leaning up and placing his lips against Laxus' in a chaste kiss.

Both smiling with expressions bordering on lovesick, they pulled apart, slid out of their outfits, and climbed into the sun-warmed sheets of Laxus' bed. Laxus pulled Freed into his arms softly, pressing their lips together in another soft kiss before they both closed their eyes. Freed shifted closer to him, letting out a quiet yawn and allowed sleep to overtake him.

And, in the arms of his lover, filled with the warm love of his friends, the God of Death and Judgement found rest.

Again, the amazing artwork in this was made by @fairiesherefairiesthere​ and you should reblog it and show them so much love.

[dreamingofscully]

6x12. “One Son” (part 2 of 2) - X-Files Rewatch

“Mulder, this stinks, and not just because I think that woman is a... well, I think you know what I think that woman is.” - Scully “No. Actually, you hide your feelings very well.” - Mulder

I found a few things really strange about this episode, so get ready for a deep dive into speculation in order to explain them! (*grumble* stupid mythology episodes)

Also, I apologize (#sorrynotsorry) for my use of caps-lock/bold on this post. I feel very emotional about a lot of things. That doesn’t make this series of episodes good, though, it just makes me have to WORK.

Long LONG post/analysis.

Decon shower. 😲

This joint decon shower is meant to humiliate Scully, to make her feel vulnerable and out-of-sorts. It kinda works. If I didn’t already hate Diana I’d definitely want to murder her after what she does here. 

Scully can’t see much, but Mulder sees quite a bit. It doesn’t really matter that Mulder is there. She trusts him absolutely. It’s her AUTONOMY about it that gets to her, and her suspicions about Diana’s motives. 

With this episode being on the cusp in a change in their relationship, this whole thing is awkward. If they merely felt like friends towards one another, they could laugh it off, but their intense feelings add an extra layer of vulnerability for the both of them (but especially Scully because she is more exposed than Mulder, and he doesn’t particularly care about nudity). You notice the rest of the episode she’s wearing stuff that has more coverage - a turtleneck when she confronts Mulder about Diana, a high-necked shirt in the office with Kersh. She’s definitely feeling more vulnerable.  😕

When Diana comes in - Scully is PISSED. The whole decon procedure is SUSPICIOUS AS FUCK and Scully knows it. 

If they were really concerned about them having contracted some suspicious organism they’d be in quarantine instead of interacting normally with Diana and the other people in the room. You’d need time to test to make sure Mulder and Scully didn’t have whatever organism that Diana claims Cassandra was infected with. Even if you couldn’t test for it, because it was unknown, you’d ISOLATE Mulder and Scully for at least a few weeks.

The ONLY REASON to do all this bullshit is to separate Cassandra. That Mulder can’t see this, won’t take Scully’s word that something is VERY WRONG, must be incredibly frustrating.

Mulder-before-Scully would have trusted the words of a stranger making these excuses because he was a lot more gullible and willing to trust others who gave him a convenient story.

Current Mulder would be more skeptical, and more importantly, would LISTEN TO SCULLY. EXCEPT ITS DIANA FOWLEY. He trusts her without question because of their history, because he believes she loved him, and that is such a RARE experience for him. He loved her too, at one point, and ACTIVELY works to disbelieve any evidence that contradicts his beliefs. He can’t handle yet ANOTHER person betraying him.

Scully is hurt because she doesn’t know this history, doesn’t know that Mulder feels this way, that he is so blinded by his need to believe that she hasn’t betrayed him - THAT HE DOESN’T TRUST HER.

Scully goes to the Gunmen’s again to find out more info about Fowley. She KNOWS Diana is dirty, but she only has her instincts screaming at her, not any proof. She needs to get it, so Mulder will listen and work with her - because he seems unwilling to trust her otherwise. I think she understands that, despite being hurt by it. (Especially since this mirrors their own investigations on the X-Files. Scully won’t believe Mulder without proof, but at least she listens to him, and has learned to listen to his instincts.)

The stuff Scully finds is suspicious, but not conclusive on its own. With her own instincts about Diana, and everything else she’s seen, it’s enough to bring to Mulder though.

Mulder would find it difficult to believe any evidence pointing towards Diana’s guilt. But this is SCULLY. He is initially resistant, cruel in his dismissal of her claims, but he goes to investigate Diana anyway. He has his back up from the start, stubbornly determined not to believe no matter what Scully shows him.

Scully’s beliefs, her distrust, her instincts ARE NOT ENOUGH and this hurts. Coupled with her concerns that Mulder doesn’t completely trust her anymore (The Beginning), this brings back all of her insecurities. She thought things were getting better between them, that they were starting to get back on track, but this makes her think - Can it ever go back to the way it was?

Mulder is determined to believe that Diana is innocent because the alternative is that maybe she never loved him? His life has been so full of manipulative, distant people, that he wants to hold on to the idea that Diana loved him unconditionally, that there was something to their relationship, that he is CAPABLE of having a relationship. Even though his history with Diana pales in comparison to the feelings he has for Scully, his inability to have a normal relationship with ANYONE would make him doubt his ability to do so in the future.

It is only when Scully threatens to leave that he looks into her suspicions for himself. The only thing more unbearable would be to lose her.

Much like Scully being blinded to the truth, to the paranormal, Mulder is blind when it comes to this person. It stems from them both fearing the implications of that belief. For Scully, it’s about not being able to explain the unknown, of having to face unexplainable things without having the bedrock of her science to conquer her fears about them. For Mulder, it’s about his internal struggle with himself - his fear of losing Scully because he can never be good enough, never give her what she wants because he is incapable of a normal relationship.

Scully points out how convenient it is that DIana showed up right at this moment. Not only is her task to separate Mulder from Scully but to distract him from the work and destroy the X-Files without his interference. All the little things add up to Diana’s duplicity. Mulder has made up his mind about cases on far less evidence. But he is blind when it comes to Diana, and that is WHY she was brought back by CSM, why she is interfering now.

The LGM are disappointed in Mulder. While they don’t have Scully’s instincts about people, they trust her. They can connect the dots with the evidence already uncovered. Something IS strange, and it’s Mulder who seems determined to NOT believe this time, no matter what he’s shown. That Scully and Mulder have a very personal and uncharacteristic fight in front of them would make them uncomfortable and protective of Scully over what they see as a pretty cruel dismissal of her claims by Mulder. (I want to see some LGM post-OS fanfic pls.)

“Because there's nothing to be done. And at some point, you just have to accept that the only way those you love are going to survive is if you give up.” - Mulder

Why would Mulder choose to save himself over the world, over resistance and fighting to save it? Seems like he’s given up, that he is willing to go to the hangar with Diana and Scully. Also, why isn’t he more upset about Diana knowing CSM? He’s still blinded, desperately believing CSM that he was looking for his son. It is so frustrating how he is able to turn a blind eye to all the evidence pointing to her guilt - but perhaps it is just that irrationality about it that makes it all the more believable. Diana is his Achilles Heel, and that is the reason she’s here.

Diana kisses him, but he doesn’t kiss her back. Perhaps he was wondering if he still had feelings for her, or if it was just the memories? Or maybe he thinks he can’t have Scully, so perhaps he is meant to be with Diana? Either way, he knows he doesn’t love her anymore, he can’t pretend, he’s meant to suffer unrequited love, live a lonely existence (see “The Field Where I Died”).

His surrender to the belief that he doesn’t have any choices left seems so out of character here, such a dramatic change from his usual self. I talk more about this issue at the end of this post.

Scully gets Mulder to do the right thing, not just the easy, self-serving one. In this case, it is only because he can’t leave her, he can't save himself if Scully's not there with him. She is his conscience, the agent for good. Mulder is the call to action, but without Scully his decisions have no good purpose or direction.

Badass agents shooting at the train. ❤️ Grabbing her arm to pull her from the tracks.

I assume they discuss things on the way to the train yard and while waiting for Skinner. I don’t think they resolve much, though, since they still seem distant with one another at the end of the episode. They end up going to the hangar and seeing the destruction, despite Scully’s skepticism about the whole story, about not having a choice in the fate of the world. She doesn’t go because she gives up, like Mulder, but because she believes that is where they are taking Cassandra. I think it disturbs Scully to see Mulder surrendering to fate so easily, giving up.

ALSO - think about what Mulder told her how he came about hearing this information. He RAN INTO CSM AT DIANA’S. BUT HE STILL THINKS SHE’S INNOCENT. Scully must be incredibly frustrated at this point. I think her body language in the meeting with Kersh shows that she’s not happy with Mulder.

Scully’s “Sir, I wouldn't bet against him.”

Despite her anger, she’ll always have his back.

Is it assumed Diana and CSM are dead as well (for the moment at least)? Otherwise I’d assume Diana would be at the meeting. Mythology episodes make my head hurt.

***

Here’s a bit of a deep dive. I can understand Mulder’s actions re: Diana fairly well, but I struggled to understand why he so easily gives up after hearing CSM’s story.

CSM’s plan started back at the end of season 5. Mulder and Scully are stronger than ever, and they are closer than ever to the truth. Diana is brought back by CSM to create tension with the end goal of separating Mulder and Scully and causing Mulder to give up. He KNOWS Mulder needs Scully. The plan is fairly successful, and the distance between Mulder and Scully reaches its peak in this episode. All of the evidence stacking up against Diana isn’t enough to cause Mulder to be suspicious of her, which confuses and hurts Scully. Diana counts on the deception and manipulations she's built up with Mulder (now and in their past) to discount anything Scully says against her, to cause Mulder to react negatively to protect his view of her.

The distance and tension in Mulder and Scully’s relationship, as well as separating Mulder from his work, prepares him for the final blow - a story that leaves Mulder feeling hopeless. When Cassandra and CSM tell him their stories about the fate of the world, he is ready to believe in them, to give up and think he has no choice except to follow their direction. He has no rudder, with Scully being out of the picture, no one to tell him that this decision is the WRONG one.

It is Mulder’s distance from Scully (physically and emotionally) that causes him to make all these bad decisions. Scully has always pushed him to do what is right, even if it's difficult. You see this repeated later when CSM messes with Mulder’s brain. She also gives him hope, a belief that TOGETHER they can do anything. When things aren’t great between them, Mulder feels helpless.

After this episode, he's saved, somewhat, by the return of his work and the re-strengthening of his relationship with Scully, but he also seems more apathetic. They go to Florida only because Arthur Dales needs help (“Agua Mala”), Mulder is forced into an X-File in “Monday”, and SCULLY is the one that initiates their first official case (“Arcadia”). His fears about the fate of the world continue, thread their way deep into his mind. His apprehension about what terrible thing is coming because he doesn't deserve to be happy (he has the X-Files back, but does it matter?). 

This lays the groundwork for depression, which I believe Mulder goes through in season 7 after his brain gets tinkered with. I’ll get into more of that later. (Though I do make the implication in my fic “Momentum” if you haven’t read it. I think many people thought that the Mulder I wrote was being an asshole for no good reason, which wasn’t my intention, but perhaps this will give you a different perspective!)

[only-lonely-stars]

The Future is Bright, Chapter 5

[Chapter 1 (Beginning)] // [Chapter 4] // [Chapter 5 - you are here!] // [Chapter 6] // [Chapter 10 (End)] (FFN)

It’s time for our crew to get some answers! Maybe some time to cool off is all they need... but it couldn’t hurt to see how the future’s changed.

Summary: What would happen if Cole had indeed had a reflection in the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master? How would that have changed his life later? What would it have been? This story follows what might have happened if he had seen something, and what it was; who he would have become. What if his future was already decided?... (Rated T for safety. Alternate title: the Cosmic Spoilers AU.)

Chapter 5: Reflection

A couple days later, Cole, Jay, and Nya were on board R.E.X. to the tomb. Lloyd had been vehemently opposed ("No way! I am not about to see another prophecy for my future, you can count me out"), so it was just the three of them. Cole didn't say so, but he preferred it that way, just going with his two closest friends. He knew he could trust them, no matter what he saw. Not that he couldn't trust Lloyd, but this was especially close to home. He didn't want to share it with everyone.

When the three finally reached the maze and had dusted themselves off from the sliding fall, Nya looked around with an excited grin on her face. "Wow… this place is amazing!"

"Yeah, it's really pretty," Cole said with a smile, admiring the faraway ice. "Kinda forgot how nice, honestly."

"How could you forget?! Look at it!"

"I don't know? I just did!" He chuckled. "We came here once, and I had other things to think about."

Jay laughed. "Okay, well, I have to try something now. I've been wanting to for years."

Cole looked over at him. "Yeah? What?"

Jay grinned obnoxiously, before shouting at the top of his lungs. "ECHO!" 

The sound bounced off the ice, echoing through the cave. It faded slowly, almost turning into a sort of ringing, but eventually subsided.

Cole snickered. "Really? You come back here after years and the first thing you do is shout 'echo?'"

"Oh, shut up!" Jay laughed. "Okay, you know what's better?"

"Well–"

"Rhetorical question!" He turned back toward the maze. "NINJA-GO!"

Nya rolled her eyes, smiling. "You are so nutty, Jay."

"You love me, though."

"I do."

Cole grinned at their interaction. "We're almost to where we saw the visions. You ready, Nya?"

"Uh… yes?" She raised an eyebrow, but her demeanor was still cheerful.

Jay rolled his eyes. "That's not really an answer, Nya. Just saying."

"Well, it's kind of an answer," Cole defended.

"No it isn't! I mean, her answer should be an answer, not a question, if you asked a question." He paused. "...Wait, that made no sense."

Nya took his hand, cutting him off. "What did you see in here, Jay?"

Jay nodded. "Okay, it's been a while, but basically I wear an eye patch and look awesome."

Cole grinned at him. "Hold on, Jay. Didn't you say there was something else, too?"

"Whaaat? No."

"Uh-huh. Something about another person?" He winked at Nya.

"I thought you couldn't hear me saying that!" Jay exclaimed.

"Not my fault you talk in your sleep."

Nya laughed. "Sleeptalking, really?"

Jay looked between the two of them and blanched, blinking a few times. "I– you– You listen to me talk in my sleep?!"

Cole couldn't help laughing loudly. "You were talking really loudly, and I was awake drawing! It was only once, anyway."

"Stupid shared dorm room," his best friend grumbled.

"Not like we use it any more. Come on."

Still bickering, the three approached the ice wall. It shone in the light, reflecting the little bit of light there was and casting a glare at the same time. Its ice was the palest blue, with the shadows and illusions of many more walls behind it, all fractures and fractals and fragments that no mind could really come to know.

Cole looked up at its towering heights. Once again, it reminded him of how small he truly was... even the Master of Earth was small in comparison to the rest of the world. In history's opinion, his troubles might seem small. He would seem small.

Still, Cole eventually looked to his companions too, and they all gazed up in their awe.

Nya's voice was low. "FSM…"

"Pretty cool, huh?" Jay nudged her with his elbow.

She grinned at him. "This is amazing! No wonder you guys got lost!"

"Well, it is a maze," Cole noted, trying to shake off his thoughts. "We don't have to go in to see the reflections, just down to get out. It's easy enough."

"Then let's not waste any time!"

The three approached the ice, and Jay grinned as he caught sight of his. "Whaddaya know? I still have the eyepatch."

Nya laughed, speaking under her breath. "That brings up some interesting memories..." Then she looked at herself and smiled, pausing. "...Wow… I look really happy. I'm all dressed up for some reason."

Jay grinned and put an arm around her. "Yeah, you do. Just look at that hair! You're gorgeous."

She giggled. "Jay! Come on!"

"What? It's true! You look amazing in the future!" He kissed her cheek. "Just like your mom– not that I like your mom, but y'know–"

"Jay. I get it." She laughed. "You're so sweet."

Cole rolled his eyes at them and approached the ice, tuning out their lovey-dovey conversation in favor of focusing. He had to know his own future, just once more, to be satisfied. Would it be what he saw before? What was he going to see?

He reached the ice and focused, looking intently, and there it was. Future Cole looked him in the eyes, and was familiar.

The man in the mirror was almost just like him. His hair was only the slightest bit longer that Cole's current hair– he must have grown it out since he last saw the reflection, because the difference was small, but it was identical to last time. His eyes in the future were the same as the present, which now had that orange glint they always seemed to carry. There was the orange scar on his temple, too, and its easy understanding with the Day of the Departed come to pass. Physically, Future Cole was identical to Present Cole.

The clothing, of course that stupid clothing; it was the same as what he'd seen before, too. His reflection wore white robes with blue accents, with a woven pattern reminiscent of clouds and a belt that clasped with his dragon emblem. Future Cole's clothing was a dead ringer– this thing he wore was Shintaran, not Ninjagian. Add half of a yin-yang pin set, pinned to his chest just above his heart, and it was clear to see... nothing had changed.

Cole sighed heavily. "My reflection's the same."

Jay turned, then moved over to look, leaving his own reflection where it sat. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah." He nodded at Jay, and the two came over to look. "Identical. My future hasn't changed." He looked back at Future Cole, who looked at him in equal disappointment and hope. "Most of it's already come true."

Nya hummed. "Guess so, if you mean the scar. Those really are Shintaran robes."

Jay grinned. "So it's just like what you thought!"

Cole sighed again, avoiding their gaze. "...Yeah. It's exactly what I thought." He looked back at the reflection, then paused as he spotted something. "Actually, I take that back. I don't remember a gold and white smudge next to me..."

Nya squinted at it. "I think it's part of it, Cole."

"Well, why would there be a smudge? All of me is right there."

"Maybe it's another person. You said that two people can show up in these sometimes."

"If there was going to be another person, wouldn't it just show her like it did for Jay?" He looked behind himself, but there wasn't anything there. "Maybe it's just dirty."

"Nah, it's got to be a person." Jay scrubbed the ice with his sleeve. "That's got to be intentional, Cole."

"Come on, all this detail and they leave that part out?" He gestured at it. "That's the part I'm stuck on!"

Nya put an arm around his shoulders. "Well, hey. Do you really want to see that part?" He looked at her oddly, and she continued. "You have to figure that part out the slow way. The journey is the best part, and maybe the ice only shows people that you're certain will be in your future."

He sighed. "Well… I guess, you're right, but–"

"No buts!" Jay interjected. "You know where to look, start looking! You have to let go of wanting to control what happens and let it happen!"

"But–"

"No buts!"

Cole groaned, giving Jay a dark look. "Fine! Fine, I'll let it go!"

"Good man!"

"You stink."

Nya rolled her eyes. "Hey. Chin up, Cole. I bet you already kind of know who she is. Take the clues it's giving you and use them. Maybe Vania can help?"

"Yeah!" Jay added. "You can describe it to her, get her help."

Cole paused, thinking about it. "Well… I guess it's not a bad idea. I brought a sketchbook and pencils."

"There you go! We can stay all day while you draw. I've got stuff to try here!"

Nya shook her head, stepping back as Jay began to mill about. "That makes me incredibly nervous."

Cole laughed. "Same here, but I'm not gonna question it." He grabbed the bag he'd brought and dug around, pulling out a sketchbook and some pencils. "I won't take too long."

"You've got time." Nya smiled at him. "Just have fun with it."

"Yeah." He smiled back. "Okay. I guess I'll get started."

Without any more ado, Jay and Nya wandered off into the ice maze together, hand in hand. Cole tuned out the echoing sounds of their voices for the millionth time, instead picking the pencil he'd use to start the base of his sketch. It was light in his hand, and he spun it between his fingers a few times, watching it turn.

When he finally looked up again, he stared at the reflection, trying to make it out. The gold smudge seemed almost more defined, or clear, or something. As he looked at it, he slowly came to understand what it was... gold and white. Someone's golden hair and pale complexion, and white clothes. It hadn't looked like a person before, but that had to be because the person's skin was a very light tone; whoever she was, she was a Shintaran. What a surprise.

He sighed heavily. "Just get started, Cole," he muttered to himself, beginning to sketch. "Get it over with and get out of here, then you can be done with this stupid tomb. You never have to come back here, you never have to think about this again, you can just get the future over with and stop worrying about what's going to happen there and with Vania and with everything."

"What?" Jay called from somewhere indistinct, voice echoing eerily as he responded. "Did you say something, Cole?"

"Nope!" Cole called back, immediately resolving not to talk to himself more. "I didn't say anything!"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure! Don't mind me!" He turned back to his reflection, muttering more quietly. "Just got to start drawing the stupid thing…" He put pencil to paper, consigning himself to sitting there for a while.

Slowly, under his hand, the sketch came together. The light pencil lines slowly darkened, the pose sharpening into something he understood, the frame becoming secure and solid. It was a man, standing tall and broad, and slowly the details filtered in; the robes, the face, the hair. He sighed, letting his pencils shade as his mind wandered. This was him… this was what he was going to become. Was he ready?

Whether he was ready or not, Cole knew he had to face the future sometime. Might as well be with a reference drawing, to keep in a book or put on the wall.

When Cole colored it, Cole made sure to add in the golden smudge person. Hopefully it would help him later.

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 17

"How's that?"

Stewart vibrated as his back and facial panels slid back into place; his metallic body buzzed loudly against the table he was sitting on, and the noise made Petra and Merlin both jump.  Eli started returning various tools and spools of wire to the toolbox she'd borrowed from Selene (a second, different set of borrowed tools - that woman had no shortage of miscellaneous tools, materials, and doodads sitting around) and then waited for Stewart's systems to reboot.

A flurry of images and briefly flashing text projected out in front of the AI's "face" as he came back online then his usual polite, smiling expression was staring them down as he stood up.  "I do not detect anything out of place.  Who would you like me to test this on?"

"Arlo.  He's up top waiting."

Stewart's face blanked for a brief instant before being replaced with a stylized speaker icon.  "Hello Arlo.  Are you able to hear me?" ((Continued below cut))

There was a pause, then sounding out from somewhere near Stewart's shoulder came "I hear you, Stewart.  I'm not hearing any static or interference either - you're nice and clear."

"Good.  Ending transmission."  Stewart's face came back and he gave Eli a nod.  "It would seem you've successfully patched me into your Hi-Def's network."

"Good to hear.  That was easier than expected."  Eli flipped the toolbox closed and turned to Merlin and Petra.  "And thanks for the extra hands."

"Not a problem. It was quite educational to watch someone who is knowledgeable about the inner workings of an AI work," Petra replied with a smile.

Merlin nodded at her.  "Indeed.  When we first obtained Wendy we didn't feel confident to examine her components too closely -- we simply patched in her new power supply and that was it.  Having now seen Stewart's inner parts I feel much more at ease with the thought of potential future repairs."

"Here's to hoping it'll be well in the future before anything gives out," Eli replied.  She glanced to her Hi-Def - it was just past noon.   "I'm going to go check in with Selene, then I have a training session with Arlo and I might also be checking in with Martha this evening.  If you guys need anything I SHOULD, assuming nothing goes wrong, be either at the Civil Corps building, Martha's, or out in the fields near Selene's place."

Petra nodded and took one of the toolboxes from the table.  "We planned on checking on some of the plumbing down here, which shouldn't be more than we can handle."

With a wave over her shoulder Eli left and began to trek to the elevator; Selene was down in Stewart's room, inside Stewart's docking station.  There was a hatch-style door in the floor that supposedly led down to the final sub-level that held Stewart's severs and, since Stewart was unable to release the locks for it, they were having to painstakingly cut their way through the thick steel.

They'd managed to weasel out a bit more information on what Stewart claimed was the absolute, last, bottom floor to this place: it had been a late addition to the facility - added nearly nine months after the rest of the place had been constructed.  It was built by tunneling underwater from the nearby river (a river that she remembered well but it didn't exist anymore) and had been used as a sort of secretive, non-disruptive way to move equipment and people in and out of the facility.  By Stewart's explanation it was quicker and more efficient; it seemed to make perfect sense to the AI but with Eli it didn't sit well with her since he'd seemed to imply that the majority of people working within this facility hadn't even been told it was there.

At the very least, since the river was gone (there's no way the marsh could be THIS deep) and Stewart showed no signs of damage anywhere in his connection to his servers, Eli was fairly confident that it'd be an easy job to get his server banks out of there once they managed to get to them -- no water meant no current flooding and no apparent damage likely meant no previous flooding had happened either.

Though, to think that the river that provided all of Dubei with water was-

 Don't think about it.

It was a bit of a walk to get down to Stewart's room; when she entered through the glass doors she could already smell the metallic tang of burnt metal, and could just barely make out the flicker of flame within the pillar that housed Stewart's docking station.

"How's it going?" she called.  There wasn't an immediate answer but the flicker went out; she reached the pillar and bent to peer around the corner.  "Selene?"

"Yeah, it's going," came the woman's disgruntled response.  The builder was kneeling on the floor with a cutting torch in hand, and there was a pile of what looked like severed bolt heads sitting on the ground next to her knees.  "Stupid dumb door and its stupid dumb lock."

Eli laughed quietly; Selene flipped up the heavy welding facemask she was wearing and shifted to look up at her.

"Just a few more bolts to get out and then I can flip the top half of this hatch back and get inside at the lock," Selene continued.  "I have no idea what you all used to tighten these damn things but they may as well be cemented in place."

"AIs with impact wrenches, probably.  And a lack of lubrication over the centuries is likely why they're basically bonded to the hatch now."

Selene blew out a sigh that quickly turned into a raspberry.  "Pain in my butt.  Anyway, it'll probably be another day before I punch through the top, and then no idea how long it'll take to get the lock to release or cut through it."

Straightening with a nod Eli glanced back toward the door; she thought she'd heard footsteps and would rather not get cornered in a room with the scholars.  "If you need any help let me know."

"Will do - though at the moment there's not much anyone can do to help.  Not enough room in here for too many people and I only have this one torch that's strong enough besides."

"Want me to stand here with a palm leaf and fan you?"

Selene snorted and flashed her a brief smile before flipping her mask back down.  "Talk to me in another hour or two and I might take you up on that. It stinks in here."

"I'll ask Stewart and see if he can up fan speed in this room to get some higher airflow temporarily - see if that helps with the smell any."

"Thanks Eli."

She left the builder woman to her work and made the long trek back to the surface; Arlo was sitting at the (currently extinguished) firepit, with Asher and Mali.  The three of them looked up as she walked over.

"Arlo was telling me you had a busy afternoon but when you have some time I'd like to speak to you about some security methods I think we could try," was Mali's greeting when Eli was close enough.

"Sure thing."  She glanced between the three of them; Adam was likely still asleep since he'd taken the overnight shift.  "Any particular reason or are we just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks?"

"Seeing what sticks," Mali answered.  "Still no sign of our guest - they're either gone or not falling for the plan."

"Or being overly cautious since whoever it is knows at least one of us is armed," Eli said after a pause, gesturing toward her waist.   Currently the gun was holstered at the small of her back but it was clear what she was referring to.

Speaking of guns Selene had recently shown her some blueprints of rifles that her little factory could make -- assuming that Selene could get the needed materials.  It was mostly a metal-and-springs issue, something that Selene assured her could all be gathered in the ruins around Portia.  It was on Eli's To Do list...she might not be able to quick draw a rifle like she could the revolver but her accuracy at long distances would go up dramatically.  

"Wish they'd just get it over with - either make it clear they've left or let us catch them," Asher grumbled.  "Hate feeling like something is watching me."

Eli shrugged.  "It'll sort itself out one way or the other."  She looked to Arlo.  "Ready?" He nodded and got up off the stump he was using as a seat; she turned around and took a few steps then stopped.   "Oh, right-"  She tapped a pair of fingers to her Hi-Def's screen.   "Call user: Stewart."  

The screen highlighted Stewart's name, then a moment later enlarged the text so that his name was all that showed on the screen.  After a few seconds the screen took on a green tint.  "-hey, Stewart?"

"How may I assist you, Eli?"

"Selene's still down in your station and the smell is starting to get to her.  Could you adjust the air circulation for that room only?"

"I can, yes, but instead it may be more efficient to adjust my station's circulation."

"Whichever will help with the metal fumes.  Might even cool that area down some."

"I shall do so then.  Anything else?"

"That's it, thanks."  She palmed over the screen to end the call and put the Hi-Def back on stand by then glanced over her shoulder at Arlo. "Right, ok.  NOW I'm ready."

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

"Hello!"

The cheerful call came from the direction of the door; Xu couldn't actually see the door from where he was bent over organizing a drawer in his desk but he recognized the voice easily enough.

"Good afternoon Lily.  I haven't seen you in awhile."

There was the sound of footsteps approaching and by the time he straightened the girl was standing at his desk smiling politely.

"Oh I know.  I went home for a week to catch up with my mom.  Is Harrison not working today?"

"I'm afraid I sent him on an errand right before you arrived so he'll be gone at least a half hour, if not longer."

Lily nodded, scrunching up her lips and nose for a moment.  "Well!   That's ok.  I'll see him eventually.  I actually wanted to ask YOU something too."

"Oh?"  Xu bent again to quickly push the drawer shut; it wasn't a pressing matter to get the new patient files in alphabetical order right this instant, after all.  "Are you feeling ill?"

"No no, nothing like that," Lily said with a wave of her hand.   "Harrison told me how you had a machine that changed hair color and I was wondering how it worked and how much it'd cost."

"Ah, yes," Xu replied with a chuckle.  He gestured over at the Uplifter and Lily followed the gesture with her eyes.  "That's the machine there and, from what I understand, it interacts on a molecular level to temporarily instruct your body to use an injected dye rather than your naturally made melanin to color your hair.  It also adjusts the melanin already present so that the hair you already have matches the color that will be growing out of your scalp.  It IS, as I said, a temporary measure however and will only last three or four months.  I am uncertain about the long-term effects of this procedure however so I would caution you to think it over."

Lily hummed and rocked back and forth, staring at the machine.  "Has anyone tried it yet?"

"A few people.  So far they've not reported any issues though they would be beyond the time period that the procedure would still be working...at that point I imagine it would be no different than having applied a dye directly to your hair -- your natural hair color would be returning."

"Cool..." she sighed.  She continued to stare the machine down for a moment before looking back to him.  "What colors can it do?  Can it do purple?"

"Well..." he started.  "I believe so.  I know it can handle the full spectrum of what one would consider natural colors.  I would need to find the manual for it to provide a full list of examples."

Lily blinked at him.  "Manual?  Like an instruction book?"

Xu nodded.  "Indeed.  My assistant recently moved into her own practice so we had to separate out our belongings, so to speak.  The manual has been misplaced but I'm certain we'll find it once she's fully unpacked.  I would need it to know what settings to use to get the intended color."

"Ah...  Ok!  I'll just have to wait to see if the book turns up then.  I had another question too -- Harrison said it could...alter faces?"

"Yes," Xu said slowly.  "Based on the information we found with it this machine was originally a gift to a woman who was known to be very beautiful.  The face-altering function seems to have been aimed at allowing her to look young and lovely, no matter how much she aged."

Lily wrinkled her nose.  "That sounds weird.  All that effort to not even look different...  Is it permanent?"

"I can't see how it would ever revert as its a surgical process.   Thus far I've managed to turn it into a medical procedure to help those with facial wounds."

She nodded.  "I think he said something about cleft lips.  THAT sounds way more useful than...the other thing.  How does THAT work, anyway?"

"Well..." Xu said, scratching at the top of his head; he glanced to the Uplifter, wishing more than ever that the manual hadn't gone missing.  "There's terminology in that particular part of the manual that I still don't fully understand but based on my best guess, the machine scans your face, saves a picture of it within itself, and then somehow makes a two-dimensional image into a three-dimensional one and fills in any imperfections or removes any blemishes, then somehow recreates that corrected image from your own flesh and blood.  You do have control over what it will or won't do, mind you, but a lot of it is...how was it worded... "artificial intelligence-guided algorithmic corrections."

He looked back to her and saw the utterly blank look on her face and smiled.  "Believe me, I felt just as you look right now when I read that part."

"I haven't the faintest clue what any of that meant but at least it can still help people," Lily said after a pause.  She then straightened her back and gave him a smile.  "I'll be back later if I don't see Harrison before then -- and DEFINITELY will be back for my purple hair!"

Xu smiled and waved as she bounced toward the door.  "Have a good afternoon, Lily."

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

"-and Carol said your fabric was on back order," Harrison said.   "She's hoping it'll be in next Tuesday with the rest of her missing order."

"At least we're not in any danger of running out of bandages before then," Xu replied.

Harrison waited for Xu to take the last few bottles out of the basket before he returned the basket to its place inside a cabinet.  Most of the supplies Xu had ordered had come through - empty glass bottles for storing liquids, small sealable pots for salves and lotions, tongue depressors, cotton-tipped swab sticks.  He'd also ordered a large roll of plain cotton fabric to cut and fashion into bandages; there was a woman here in town named Carol who tended to order fabrics in bulk so Xu always put in his order with hers to save them both on shipping costs but apparently her entire order had been held up somewhere.

"Did you happen to run into Lily on your way back?"

Harrison spun around to face Xu.  "What?  No, I didn't.  She's back?"

Xu chuckled at him.  "She is.  She came in asking after you, and also after hair color.  I certainly hope Phyllis finds that manual among her things...  I still can't see how it got misplaced, I'm so certain I always return it to same place each time."

"Yeah..." Harrison hummed - he had only half heard Xu; the bulk of his brain was celebrating the fact that Lily had come back like she said she would.   "Did she mention if she'd come back here, later?"

"Yes," Xu laughed.  "Go on - go find her then.  You've already completed today's lesson AND the errand I needed you to take care of so I don't have anything else that was planned for the day."

Harrison stood, unable to keep a grin from his face.  "Thanks, doctor!"

He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door; where would Lily have gone... Maybe the town hall?  She would need to rent another room at the Happy Apartments while she was here.  But maybe she'd already done that...well.  He had to start SOMEWHERE.  He hurried down the hill with his jacket flapping over his arm, scanning around him as he went; she wasn't at town hall, and she wasn't at the Round Table.  Portia wasn't a large place but it would still be pretty easy to miss her if he just ran around like a madman.

He hurried down to the central plaza - it was large and open and if she was there she'd be easy to spot... And it didn't appear she was here either.  Oh well. From the plaza there was a set of stairs that led up to the hill that the clinic and Civil Corps building was perched on; Harrison hated climbing these particular stairs but from here it'd be quicker than walking all the way around to go up the hill near the cemetary.  With a huff he started his jog up, and was puffing and out of breath by the time he reached the top.

But, he did spy a familiar figure approaching the clinic from the other direction.

"Lily!"

She looked up at his shout and then waved happily at him.

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

"He's been reading more now than he ever has..." Martha murmured, glancing toward a door behind her that Eli assumed led to Toby's room.   "It's honestly shocking.  He never was one to take to homework."

Eli smiled and helped herself to another slice of the raisin bread that was on the table between the two of them.  "Well, he's technically doing homework he wants to do now so I guess that's the difference."

Martha smiled and took another piece of bread herself.  "It's such a relief, even if it does mean that he's thrown himself at the...at the adventurer's path."  Her smile faltered a moment and she limply dropped the bread onto the little saucer in front of her.  "I can't bear the thought of losing him like I did his father."

"I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't have a high chance of happening.  I can't promise it never will though," Eli added after a moment.  "He is, however, doing well and actually focusing on the lessons I'm giving him.  I thought all the bookwork would bore him but...well, it's not.  Which I find surprising for someone his age."

Martha nodded; she seemed to force herself to take a bite of the bread and it took ages for her to swallow it.  "-he's been quite the chatterbox about your lessons so I know what he's learning.  I just hope it'll be enough."

"When he becomes an adult it'll be up to him to make all the right choices and keep himself safe," Eli said after a moment.  She offered the woman a sympathetic smile.  "Who knows - you might be raising the next big hero.  I'd say the next Peach but I fu- I freaking hope not because that'd mean the world went to hell again."

That managed to bring a smile back to the woman's face and she seemed much happier when she took her next bite.  From the other side of the door she'd indicated a moment ago there was a loud scraping noise then several thumps before the door was flung open with Toby framed within it with his arms full of papers and books.

"Mom, I nee- hi Eli!"

"Toby, stop yelling in the house," Martha sighed as the boy came hurrying over.  She very narrowly managed to move a plate of butter out of the way before he plopped the books and paper down in a haphazard pile.  "Toby!"

"Sorry mom.  Eli - what's the difference between venomous and poisonous?"

Eli scooted her plate out of harm's way and dusted cinnamon off her fingertips; the papers were full of Toby's messy handwriting but she could read it well enough to see that he was dutifully copying (and even illustrating) notes out of an animal guide she'd managed to buy and give to him.  "Venomous means if IT bites YOU you'll die.  Poisonous means if YOU bite IT you'll die."

Toby snickered.  "That's dumb - I wouldn't just BITE an animal.  But that's the answer?"

"Yep.  Venomous basically means an animal can't poison you unless they bite or sting you first. Poisonous means you have to touch it, eat it, or otherwise inhale or ingest the poison to be poisoned.  A simple rule of thumb is to be watching for stingers, fangs, or bright colors, but THE safest way of dealing with either poison or venom is watch where you're putting your feet or hands and avoid touching any animal or insect as much as possible -- and even if said animal or insect is something you know for a fact isn't harmful you shouldn't be bothering them anyway.  You never know if an animal or insect is capable of spitting something at you either so it's best to just leave them alone."

"Got it..." the boy muttered, shuffling through the rumpled pile of papers.  "So I'm going to have to put poisonous in a pile and venomous in a pile and make sure I got it right because I thought those meant the same thing and they don't..."  After a moment he slapped all the papers back into one pile.  "Oh, mom!  I need more paper!"

"I'll buy more tomorrow," Martha replied.

Toby scooped everything up again and hurried out the door with a few scattered pages fluttering to the floor behind him.  Martha sighed and shook her head, and stood to go collect them.

"Well... Anyway.  When it gets warmer out and he's out of school I'll start the physical stuff," Eli said after a pause.  "If you're still willing, that is."

"No, no, I can't walk back on our agreement or else he'll think he can't trust me if I promise something," Martha said.  "I may not like it but at least I can rest easy that he's not just...just running headlong into things like he usually does."  She took a steadying breath and came back over with the sheets of notes that had been left behind.  

"I'll do my best to make sure he doesn't do something dumb," Eli said.  She stuffed the last bit of the raisin bread on her plate into her mouth and then dug into a pocket.  "-how much for a loaf of this?"

"Oh, uh - I actually don't have any more baked at the moment.  This was the last one."

"That's fine."  Eli dumped a handful of gols on the table and started sorting them into piles of 100s.  "Can I pay now for two loaves and come get them in the morning?"

Martha laughed.  "Absolutely.  Two loaves would 180 gols."

Eli shoved 300 at her.  "I'll donate toward more paper since I'm the reason he's burning through so much."

Martha carefully swept the gols up and slipped them into her apron pocket.  "Thank you, Eli.  I may hem and haw and fret like an old hen but I really do appreciate that you're teaching him how to be safe."

With a chuckle Eli headed toward the door.  "If he actually sticks with the training all the way through he'll know how to survive pretty much anything.  -- oh, right.  I meant to ask - I was going to rope Dr. Xu into this eventually, for some first aid training since mine is...oh, about 300 years out of date.  Are you all right with that?"

"Well, of course.  Why wouldn't I be?"

"I have no idea how squeamish you might be and up until today I didn't know how much he was sharing.  If he's being the chatterbox as you claim and it'll bother you then I need to set some pretty firm boundaries up front."

Martha blinked.  "Oh.  Ah.  That's a good point.  I wouldn't say I'm squeamish but..."  She took a steadying breath.  "I'll manage.  He needs to learn if he's going to be safe."

Eli nodded and put her hand on the doorknob only to jump a bit as someone knocked on the door; Gale was on the other side and he started as she opened the door to find his fist raised mid-knock.

"Oh!  What timing - I apologize for knocking in your face, Eli."

"No worries, I was just about to leave is all."

"Ah, well, I suppose 'what timing' applies a second time.  I came looking for you."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong but time IS of the essence," the man said with a chuckle.  He leaned around to peer in at Martha.  "Sorry to intrude on your home and steal your guest, Martha."

"It's no trouble, Gale."

The man chuckled and hurried out of the way so Eli could step outside.

"So what's so pressing?" Eli asked as she carefully shut the door behind her.

"Let's walk and chat," Gale suggested.  He waited for her to take the few steps needed to reach his side and then they began a leisurely stroll up the street -- Eli assumed this was going to end at the town hall.

"So!  The scholars have decided to take everything they've learned back to Atara next week and spend a few months there sharing with their peers," Gale went on.  "That will be one less thing to juggle schedules with. However: I'm expecting that shortly after their departure the pledged monetary assistance is going to arrive, and at that point we'll begin construction on expanding the clinic.  We've finalized plans with Dr. Xu to expand the building to house both more space to treat patients in, as well as a few spare rooms to use as classrooms."

Eli nodded.  "I'm aware.  I did have a question though."

Gale looked up at her.  "Yes?"

"Moving Stewart out of the facility is a good idea but I don't want the place to be abandoned except for the occasional poking about by scholars.  What are your long term plans for it?"

Gale slowed to a stop, rubbing at his chin.  "...to be frank, I haven't really thought a lot on what to do with it.  I don't think anyone gave much thought either to the other ruins around Portia - we've been scavenging what we can out of them for ages, but those ruins aren't even close to being in the same fantastic shape as the facility is so I can at least confidently say we won't be taking it apart.  Why do you ask?"

Eli blew out a long sigh.  "Well...at the risk of sounding sentimental, I just don't want to see it go unused or be torn apart.   We've been working on plans to transition it to a new, and renewable, power source, Petra and Merlin are checking that all the plumbing is still intact and working... I had thought once that maybe we could turn it into a college where Stewart could teach generations of doctors while treating patients of his own."

"That thought HAD crossed my mind but as it would be inconvenient to move the clinic itself I'll admit I'm uncomfortable with the thought of him traveling between there and the facility.  Not just from a security standpoint either, mind you -- I'm worried that if, in the future, we have a medical emergency that's beyond Dr. Xu's expertise that it would then take too long for Stewart to get back to town."

"Yeah...that's a good point," Eli said after a pause.  "Still.  I'd really love to see the place being used again.  Maybe more housing?"

Gale nodded, and then chuckled after a breath.  "Goodness knows we're going to need that soon. The Happy Apartments can only hold so many, after all, and there's only a handful of empty residences available for buyers.  If anything we could utilize it for short-term available housing, or long-term if someone is genuinely wanting to live there.   We'll definitely have work to do to make it all livable again, and we'll have to look into expanding our transportation along with..."  Gale paused and waved a hand.  "Look at me going off on a tangent, ha!  Come - let's go sit in my office and I'll get to what I I needed to speak to you about."

She nodded and they started walking again. He led the way to the town hall's door and held it open, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him; the office was spacious and a bit chilly, and smelled of paper and old books.  As he closed the door behind them Eli moved over to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of Gale's desk and a moment later Gale shuffled around the desk to lower himself into his own chair.

"Portia's fiscal year will be starting soon and I need to have our budget settled.  I wanted to ask you again if you're interested in becoming one of our Civil Corps members."

Eli leaned back in her chair, taking in a deep breath.  "...I am, but do you think Portia's folks would be all right with that?"

Gale waved a hand at her.  "I think they'll be more than all right with it - by now I'd argue you fit right in and I can't see any problems aside from the usual ones, and as I've said before if there ARE any problems you just let me know and I'll have a talk with the troublemakers.  But, from what I've seen, there's really only one person who would continue to be a problem and I like to think he'd know better than to try anything now."

A half smile twitched across her face then she cleared her throat. "Well...  What would happen with my position in the Research Center?  I don't want to leave them hanging."

Gale laughed.  "Pardon me for assuming but I didn't think for an instant that you would abandon Merlin and Petra, or anyone else for that matter.  Any and all instances of you being consulted on technological matters would be properly paid for, and your position's salary would be converted into a fund to cover such."

She smiled and shook her head; just by virtue of being alive she WAS the world expert on "Old World" tech-

 Don't think about it.

"You don't need to pay me for helping out with anything.  What it sounds like to me is most of my chosen duties won't be changing - I'll just be adding on the Civil Corps bit, right?"

Gale nodded.  "That sounds accurate...do keep in mind that if it seems like you're being buried in tasks you only need to say something -- there's a balance between being helpful and being taken advantage of.  Now...in addition to you becoming a Civil Corps member, I've had one other person requesting to sign on here for a time."

Eli blinked at him.  One other person...was it one of the Pigs?   Could they even do that?  She didn't have any real grasp on how the Flying Pigs's organizational structure worked.  "Really?  Can your budget handle two more town guards?"

Gale nodded again; he shuffled through some of the papers on his desk and pulled out one that was covered top to bottom, margin to margin, with tidy handwriting.  He turned it around toward her and picked up a pen to begin gesturing at underlined areas and numbers -- this must be a part of the budget paperwork, she realized.

"It can.  We've had additional positions budgeted for for years, just with no takers until now.  You can see how things add up here and here.  I intend to have all this printed, dated, signed, and on file for anyone to reference within a week."

With his nod of permission Eli took the handwritten budget plan and looked it over; she was somewhat familiar with budget balancing as she'd always had to sign off on anything coming out of HQ to confirm that all the numbers matched with what she had on hand or had requested for her squad.  So far as she could tell Portia's numbers all lined up nice and neat, and she could even see a few "emergency" funds had been created with the influx of trade that had come to the city over the last few years.

Of course, these numbers were way smaller than she was used to seeing and dealing with...

 Don't think about it.

She handed the paper back.  "Seems in order.  To make it official on the books consider my answer to be "yes."

Gale smiled and returned the paper to a stack on his desk.  "All right!  I'll consider this finalized for now and have the paperwork ready for you and Asher in a few days."

Ah, so it was Asher that wanted in... Well, that was an interesting development.  It at least made more sense than anyone else she could think of.

"Anything else?" she asked then.  "Not that I'm rushing out of here or anything - I just want to be sure everything is in place."

"I think we've got everything covered," Gale replied.  "Oh, yes - being as I already mentioned that this will be available for anyone in Portia to reference..."  He hopped out of his chair and motioned for Eli to follow him over to one of the bookcases.

Now that she was actively looking at them she could see that while a large number of the books seemed to be regular reading material there were several shelves full of leather-bound ledgers that were bursting with papers (and some looked old -- Eli spied more than one spine that was flaking leather and heavily worn at the middle where countless numbers of hands had touched and handled them).  Gale pointed and then, with a sweeping motion, indicated one of the lower shelves of ledgers.

"This shelf here holds what amounts to all of Portia's governing history for the last two decades.  Anyone is welcome to peruse the old records as needed.  All that's asked is you don't take the ledgers out of this office."

"Noted," she said.  "Do you get many takers on that?"

"Yes, actually," Gale chuckled.  "The budgetary highlights are usually printed in our newspaper a month or two after it's all been settled but there's a small handful of people who want to read it before the ink's even dried."

She smiled at him and glanced to the door; there wasn't much else needed here, and not much else she had to add.  Gale noted where she was looking and bustled over to the door to rest a hand on the knob.

"Thank you, Eli, for agreeing to this sudden meeting.  I hope I haven't derailed your evening too much."

"Nah, not at all."  She walked toward him and he opened the door for her.  "Have a good evening, Gale.  Let me know if you need anything else."

"I certainly will.  Good night."

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

"Gale's already told me" was Arlo's greeting when she got out to the facility the next morning.  "I'm excited to welcome you and Asher aboard."

Eli smiled as she knocked a clod of mud off the side of her boot before coming over to sit on a stump next to the firepit.  Adam was up and had eggs and bacon in a pan over the flames; Mali and Asher weren't in sight but she assumed they were both still in the tent.  "Excited to get back into my career field."

Arlo nodded, then studied her in silence for a moment.  "...is it going to be awkward for you, taking orders from someone else?"

She offered him a sly smirk.  "Not really, assuming you don't issue an order I consider stupid."

His face tinged red ever so slightly.  "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Then we're all good.  I spent years taking orders before I reached a rank where I was giving them -- I know how chains of command work and I'll do my best to remember I'm NOT in charge anymore."

Again Arlo nodded; he crossed his arms and shifted to look out over the marsh in the general direction of Portia.  "Right.  Remington is on patrol as we speak, and Sam's patrol starts when his ends.  We'll sort out a time to properly welcome you and Asher to the team and then shift patrol patterns around -- since Asher will be staying here anyway this region will be his, for sure."

Adam flipped a few pieces of bacon and grunted, looking up to them.  "Might not need the patrols if Mali's idea works."

"I know but I'd rather plan for what we can handle if it doesn't," Arlo replied.

Eli looked between the two of them.  "I haven't gotten to talk to Mali about this new idea yet so what am I in for?"

"A bunch of heavy lifting and electrical work," Adam responded before Arlo could answer.  "Assuming we can find a working door that'll fit."

"Even if it doesn't we can probably widen the hallways," Arlo picked up.  

"Hang on, a door?  What kind of door?" Eli interrupted.

Adam jerked a thumb over a shoulder toward the southeast.  "Mali's convinced we can repurpose some doors out of a ruin out that way.  Twice as thick as what's down in the facility now, lockable, and should prove to be a right pain in the ass to get through if you're not supposed to get through 'em."

Thick doors...  "Blast doors?" she asked, though more to herself than to the others.  And if it was to the east -- WOW Industries?  Or from somewhere else around here?   "A standard sized blast door is...I've no idea how we'd get blast doors out of there, much less down into here.   We'd have to remove the elevator car entirely and pray it fits down the shaft."

Adam shrugged.  "All I know is Mali remembered having to get through what she called security doors back when we first found the All Source AI - I'm not sure where she saw 'em and she didn't say when she had the idea.  She checked with your research folks and we seem to think that if we can just get 'em here and installed then we wouldn't need a constant guard up top because no one's getting in through those things if they're shut tight."

"We could still have a guard but move them down into the facility itself..." Eli mused.  "Out of the elements, in a proper apartment.   That would solve the question of what to even do with this place once Stewart's out too."

"A nice perk, if it works."

They turned around in unison to see Mali approaching them from the tent.

"The question is: do you think it's possible?" she went on as she came to stand at Adam's shoulder, gaze fixed on Eli.

"Well... Possibly.  The biggest hurdle is going to be getting it to fit down the elevator shaft - wiring is the easy part."

Mali nodded and shifted around Adam to sit on the far side of the pit from Eli.  "Then after I've eaten you and I can go looking to see if we can make it work."

"Sounds like a plan," Eli said.  After a pause she looked back to Arlo.  "I'll keep the rest of my day open so we can all meet, if that's all right?"

"I'll check in with Remington and Sam and let you know where to meet," Arlo answered with a small nod.  "And Asher, too."

"We've all got our marching orders for the day then," Eli chuckled.   She got up and stretched and, out of habit, scanned their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

In the distance she could see a familiar smudge of blue against the grass -- that was a gaggle of scholars heading back out this way.  She probably should have clarified with Gale on the exact date they'd be heading back home but oh well; depending on how long it took to dismantle and move a set of blast doors they might not be underfoot anymore anyway.

WOW Industries would probably have the doors that Eli was thinking of; she'd never given any thought to what it would take to move one of those things but knew they were strong enough to take heavy fire, literal fire, could seal to contain gas leaks, and also were built to immediately shut if there was ever a fluid leak too.  She had her doubts that the rubber seals would be in workable condition after all this time but so long as the doors hadn't rusted out then they'd still suffice as a security measure.

Granted, there were those doors along the elevator shaft...those were technically still vulnerable access points.  Maybe, just maybe, they could turn the blast doors flat and have them open to let the elevator down, rather than try to seal up the other doors and rely on a single door at the bottom floor.  They'd have to do some digging and run new wire, but...

She turned back around to the others.  "Just had an idea where size isn't going to matter much."

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.37

Shiro arrived mid-afternoon, as Keith drank his forth cup of coffee to settle his nerves. His brother wasn’t great at keeping time, yet Keith wished he could have managed it for a nice change. Lance had been nervy all morning. He’d cleaned through the house, Keith still in bed when Lance came to attack the spare bedroom. His boyfriend casually lifting the bed, balancing it on his shoulder, vacuuming under it and placing the bed down again in a manner of minutes like it was perfectly normally, and he hadn’t been in the bed trying to sleep after tossing and turning all damn night as he wished he had the courage to go crawl into bed with Lance.

Matt and Lance were off to a rough start. Both males had looked each other up and down. Lance calling Matt a “mutt” and Matt calling Lance a “corpse”. Vampires and werewolves occasionally coexisted, but these two seemed natural born enemies. Lance had explained the house rules, Matt had looked bored, even scoffing when Lance asked that he and his girlfriend not have sex all over his house, and if they could wait until everyone was asleep before they did. Keith wasn’t sure this work. He could tell Lance was seething, the wine glass in his hand barely holding together in his kind of boyfriend’s tight grip. Sitting around the kitchen table, Shiro was trying his hardest to defuse the situation before it became one.

Smiling tightly, Shiro hand his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. His brother looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept the whole time he was away. It’d been months since Shiro had looked this bad. Keith wanted to send him to bed, but Shiro was kind of the lynchpin that brought everyone in the group together. If Shiro spoke, then both Lance and Matt would listen. Under the table Keith’s leg was against Lance’s trying to offer silent support as they couldn’t hold hands. Lance would freak if Keith even thought of trying

“Now. I know this is hard for all of us, but I think we should try by reintroducing ourselves. Lance?”

Keith felt it unfair Lance had to go first. Shiro hadn’t even talked to him alone about what had happened while he’d been away. Keith didn’t have anything he could use to make Lance feel better about the current situation. Whatever Shiro said, they’d be finding out together.

“I’m Lance. This is my house. I’ve been dead for the last 36 years. I have a cat called Blue. Pidge and Hunk are my two best human friends”

Lance sounded as if he was standing in front of some anonymous meeting. Detached and nervous. More nervous than detached

“Thanks for that, Lance. Keith?”

Shiro really was insistent they go through the whole charade

“Keith. Shiro’s brother. Apparently recently transferred to Platt. I like coffee”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. His brother was lucky to get that much from him as it was. Yeah. He hasn’t forgotten being transferred with no say. Curtis didn’t need prompting as he explained

“Curtis. I’ve been cursed for about 4 months now. Ex-hunter who now works for VOLTRON out of Platt. Lance’s personal assistant, and medical advisor”

Again, Shiro raised his eyebrow in silent judgment. If his brother liked to be too busy, he was going to miss everything happening

“We’ll talk about that later. Matt?”

Matt sighed, his expressions were so much like Pidge’s that it was easy to tell the two of them were siblings. Other than the height difference and the long scar on Matt’s cheek, Pidge could have easily passed as him

“Matt. Werewolf”

Shiro closed his eyes, Keith nearly able to hear his brother counting to ten before he opened his eyes again

“Look. Neither of you might be happy initially, but we all need to be on the same team here”

Matt huffed, even his attitude was like Pidge’s

“Fine. Matt. Werewolf. I was accidentally by my girlfriend Rieva. Pidge’s older brother. I’ve got all the attributes including the sense of smell. Lance smells like a virgin in heat”

“It’s better than stinking off wet dog that rolled in something dead”

“Hey...”

Shiro pushed his seat back, rising to his feet as he slammed his hands on the table. Whelp. They’d gone and done it now

“Enough. You’re acting like children. This is Lance’s house, so as long as you’re living here, you’ll show him some respect. Lance, Matt and Rieva are you’re guests. I know you’ve been ill, but you need to keep your ego in check. You both need to keep your egos under control. Keith and I will be moving back to Platt Monday week. The both of your are under our care until you’re proven to be a direct threat to human lives. Especially you, Matt. Lance has a long track record of not harming humans. You, on the other hand, injured two of the Blade’s werewolves. I can’t keep you safe if you slip again”

Matt sighed again. Keith wanted to punch him in the face. Sure, there were a huge array of sounds that the word “sigh” covered, but Matt kept using the same one

“I’m sorry. You’re right. We’re both having issues with our egos”

Keith looked to Lance who gave a tiny nod, Lance didn’t want to be standoffish, especially not to the brother of his best friend

“I’m sorry to. My senses have been pretty whack lately. That’s why Curtis is here, he was sent by Coran to make sure I don’t up and die... again”

“Alright. Good. Now, I was thinking maybe we’d all get along better if we all knew how each other turned”

Lance immediately paled, Keith had seen how hard it was for the vampire to explain the incident

“Lance got attacked by two vampires when he was 8”

Matt let out a whistle

“Damn, man. They got you young. Rieva tried to hide she was a werewolf. We met on the same tour in Greece, then again a few days later in Paris. I took it as a sign, she kept trying to push me away, that was 10 months ago. She accidentally bit me 9 months ago... got this scar at the same time”

Rieva nodded. The woman was pretty in her own way. Tanned enough to for her skin to be a deeper shade of brown than Lance’s with long black hair and green eyes

“I never meant to hurt him. I turned at the full moon and escaped for the night. Matt came after me...”

“And I’m glad I did”

Ugh. So they were one of those disgustingly loved up couples.

Across the table Curtis cleared his throat

“I was cursed. I’ve got half a horn, and half a tail. I was supposed to infiltrate a werewolf pack in Prague, but they seemed to already know I was hunter. They were trying to summon the spirit of a berserker using magic, only I’m not a werewolf and the spell went wrong. I wasn’t permitted to stay in Rome, they didn’t take too kindly to me being cursed. Coran offered to take me, so I’ve been working in Platt looking into the curses effects in his laboratory. So far it seems to affect the things I say. Coran feels they summoned part of a lesser demon instead of a beast spirit, and part of its soul has bonded with my quintessence. Lance has been through a lot, and Coran thought we may be able to help each other. His fae magic had no effect on the curse. Of course, without the original spell working backwards has been hard. And it hasn’t been that great, but I’m happy to be alive. Especially now Shiro’s returned”

It was Keith’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his brother. Curtis had no filter and that sounded suspiciously like his brother had been keeping secrets about his love life. Either that, or Curtis simply meant he was happy to see his friend and hadn’t meant it the way he sounded. Just because he’d snagged himself a boyfriend, didn’t mean everyone was suddenly in love and dating. Shiro was still mourning Adam. They’d intended to marry and everything that came with it. It wasn’t fair... what had happened. Since meeting Lance, Keith had kind of felt like maybe he was better place himself, forced to work through feelings because there wasn’t a whole lot things to do in Garrison. Not that he was going to tell Shiro this. His brother had abandoned him and he figured he could milk that for a little longer.

“That’s rough. Most werewolves I’ve met have been all about the muscles and not the sharpest tools in the shed. They really shouldn’t be messing with that stuff. Not that vampires are any better. Who the fuck takes a human as a pet?”

Curtis nodded at Lance’s words, Matt didn’t look terribly pleased but by now he’d probably had his fair of share of scrapes with werewolves. Shiro simply smiled like he’d solved everything with one conversation. He definitely hadn’t.

“How’s Pidge doing?”

The glass in Lance’s hand finally broke. Lance shoving Keith when Keith automatically went to start picking up the pieces

“Idiot. You can’t touch the blood. I am not having you think I’ve turned you again”

Reprimanded by his boyfriend, Keith crossed his arms. Lance was super protective of Pidge, he’d have had months of Pidge upset because Matt wasn’t messaging her back

“I wasn’t thinking”

“That’s obvious. Don’t touch it while I get a cloth”

Matt watched as Lance cleaned up the mess, placing the glass in the sink to rinse the blood off of it

“I asked you how my sister is”

Keith almost felt sorry for Matt. A cranky Lance was a scary thing

“How do you think she is? I know you were staying away to do the right thing by your family, but you really fucking hurt her by not replying. She pretty much worships you, and you weren’t replying. She’s fine physically. Still hunting ghosts and making videos. Still wanting to do dumb things like she’s isn’t a human. Her and Hunk are still as tight as always. Hunk’s got a girlfriend now, Shay. She’s just like him, they’re so sweet together. They’ve got no idea about this world. I’ve never told her and I’ve done my best to make sure she never finds out”

Matt looked upset, hopefully with his actions

“You wouldn’t understand... I wasn’t going to come back...”

Keith groaned mentally, why would Matt go there? Lance understood too well what a bite did to a family

“I wouldn’t understand? Please tell me how I don’t know how being turned can ruin your family? How you’re scared of what you are and you don’t understand? I have no idea at all. We both know if Pidge knew, she’d want the bite. She’d want to be part of this world. Heck, I think she’s so interested in the paranormal because she wants to feel close to you again. Rieva, please don’t think I’m having a go at you. I know accidental turns happen, and how scared you must have been to turn Matt. I’ve put you and Matt in the room Keith and Shiro were using, the guest bathroom is near your room. It’s the downstairs spare room. Shiro, I’ll bunk you Curtis and Keith. I’ll have to find a spare bed, or one of you can sleep in the living room. Normally I don’t have a full house to worry about. My office is off limits. I work as a lawyer so I’d rather keep my clients information confidential. If I have to talk to a client, I’ll try warn you ahead of time. If you want to train, do it out on the back lawn, and don’t kill my garden. Also, Curtis and Keith aren’t allowed near the toaster without supervision... And maybe don’t touch Keith’s coffee, he’d likely to stab you for trying. He revivals Pidge with his need for caffeine. I’m going to double check the bedroom upstairs”

Lance had barely left the kitchen before Keith was pushing his chair back. Shiro cocking his head as he watched

“Where are you going?”

“To check on Lance. He’s obviously upset”

“When did become so perceptive?”

“When you went disappeared for weeks. Pidge is like a sister to Lance. Everything dangerous she wants to do he always checks it out first to make sure doesn’t get hurt. He’s been looking out for her, even when it puts him in danger. He collapsed a mine shaft so Pidge wouldn’t be hurt... Don’t listen to our conversation”

Yeah, Keith wasn’t be fair. He’d basically tattooed “I’m not okay with this situation across his forehead”. Shiro would make him apologise later, but for now he wanted to check on Lance. He’d gone from having Hunk and Pidge staying over to 6 people kind of living with him. Keith was already at his people limit before everyone came back. He’d missed Shiro, but he wasn’t sure he was keen on Matt. He wasn’t about to shoot him, but family was a complicated thing that Lance had had such a hard time with. Heading upstairs he headed straight for Lance’s bedroom, knowing he’d find him there.

*

Knocking gently on Lance’s door, he found Lance sitting on the side of his bed like he liked to do when he was thinking

“I didn’t handle that very well”

Keith sighed as he walked over to the bed, before sitting down next to Lance and taking his hand

“I think I handled that even worse”

“I heard. It’s just... my body is being weird again. I’m not used to the scent of werewolves and it’s making everything all yuck. I’ll get over it, but I shouldn’t have been so short with Matt”

“You were worried about Pidge. You’re allowed to worry about your friends”

Lance dropped his head to rest of Keith’s shoulder

“Still. I made a horrible first impression”

“If Matt is anything like Pidge, you’ll be fine once it settles down a bit”

“I feel like I’m lying to her by not letting her know he’s here and that he’s okay”

“Nah. Think of it like a surprise. Besides, you’re not intentionally hurting her by not telling her right away”

“Still feels like I am. How are you? You must be happy Shiro’s back”

“I’m relieved. I’m still mad at him though. I get why he had to keep quiet until things were organised”

“You two will work things out. You should be downstairs with everyone else...”

“I’m fine here. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. How’s the hand?”

“Healed up. I must have looked so lame breaking the glass”

“You didn’t meant to”

“It still happened. I know Pidge is human and close ties are dangerous but I don’t want to see her hurt”

“I know you don’t. It’s one of the things I like about you”

“It’s not my great arse and award winning personality?”

Lance tried to joke but it sounded flat. Keith didn’t like it. Lance was being too hard on himself for caring

“Those too. So, what are we going to do about bedding? I don’t mind sleeping on the couch”

“If anyone should be sleeping on the couch, it should be me. I knew I didn’t have enough beds, but I don’t know what to do about that”

“I can sleep on the couch. I’ve slept on way worse”

“Mami would have a fit if I made a guest sleep on the couch”

“Then how about we share a bed?”

Keith didn’t mean it to sound as forward as it did. But Lance’s bed would easily fit both of them, and there was only one bed left. Not that he actually minded the couch. There would be plenty of space for him

“I don’t know... wouldn’t that make things awkward with Shiro?”

“Like you said, I need to talk to him anyway”

“I get nightmares...”

“So do I”

“But you’re not a vampire. I could seriously hurt you”

“Or, it could be fine. Why don’t we just try it for the night and think about things tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Maybe. I turned the forth room into my office... maybe I could sleep there?”

“Lance, it’s your house. You shouldn’t be kicked out your own bed for doing a nice thing and giving Rieva and Matt a place to call home”

“I can’t imagine what the two of them went through. I really hope they don’t hate me”

“Like you said, it’s an ego thing. You can’t control that, but if anyone can bring their ego under control, it’s you”

Lance let out a small snort. Keith taking the win

“See, you know I’m right. You’re overthinking things”

“Only because I’m rubbish at hosting people”

“Nah, I’m still here, aren’t I?

“Only because you’re stubborn”

“I’m as stubborn as you are. Seriously though, you’re fine. Things’ll settle down”

“I’m worried about going into heat. I have I idea how to explain that”

“You don’t have to, unless you want to”

“I’m not going to have much choice if I turn into a bat”

“We can talk to Shiro together. Or I can tell him. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”

“You’re the one I’m worried about. I don’t want you and Shiro to end up fighting because of me”

That was so Lance

“Even if we fight, we’re brothers at the end of the day”

“That must be nice. Mami is the glue that keeps my family together. I miss her”

For someone older than him, Lance was sweet for still caring for his mum the way he did. If it wasn’t for the fact they had three new arrivals, Keith would suggest a trip up to Platt

“Why don’t you call her?”

“She’d known something’s up. She’s got enough to worry about”

“She loves you. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. But I get if you don’t want to call her. Can I do anything?”

“You already are. You should go talk to Shiro. I might take a nap and calm down”

Lance took too much on his shoulders. Keith didn’t want to leave him alone when he was feeling down

“I can stay...”

“Nah. I’ll Be okay. You go make up with Shiro. It’ll make me feel better”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks for coming to check on me”

“I’ve got your back”

“I know... if I’m not away in hour or so, come poke me with a stick”

Keith found himself kissing the top of Lance’s head, before replying

“Will do. I’ll find the biggest stick I can”

“Why do I feel like you’re actually going to find a stick now?”

“Because I am. Now let’s get you tucked in. Can’t have you sleeping on top of the covers”

“I’m not a little kid”

“You could be”

“Fight me”

Keith laughed. He deserved that one

“After the old man gets his sleep. I’ll sort things out with Shiro, so stop worrying about it so much”

“I can’t help it. I care about you”

Keith kissed the top of Lance’s head again. Shiro was going to be confused as fuck when he finally explained what was going on between him and Lance. Hopefully his brother would be more distracted by what was happening with his heart that his newly discovered love life

“I care about you too. It’s going to be okay”