#pardon the formatting i got this all out in an hour and stayed up an hour too late. i just needed it finished

[blaiddraws]

man, y'all were really suspicious of Arceus in that one other drawing. it's not like it was being malicious or anything! in fact, you might even say it's fond of the guy.

[stoookes]

I love that WhatsApp chat idea, it's so feral! 😍😂 Ok so in my imagination, it all begins when VK's most recent conquests, maybe a baby, probably Harry, has suffered through a breakup with VK, because obviously, VK grew bored and couldn't be bothered to continue a relationship which he considered only as a bit of fun.

When news of the breakup filters through, Harry suddenly finds himself added to a whatsapp group which is just titled, "Simps for VK". Then comes a slew of messages, welcoming him to the group.

"Hello kiddo! Genuinely didn't expect to see you added to this group so soon, but well, it was bound to happen one day. He never stays long with anyone. Don't be worried though, you're in good company

Just know, everyone here is in the same boat as you are, and what you're going through is absolutely normal and ordinary, there's nothing to be ashamed of, because everyone here has already been through it already." This is from Jos, who seems as sympathetic and helpful on text as he does in real life, but Harry's still confused, because who's the "he" Jos keeps mentioning? What does he mean when he says that everyone here is in the same situation Harry is in?

When he articulates his questions, Jos clarifies, sounding as polite and kind and sensitive as one can be while referring to a break up that took place not half an hour ago. "I beg your pardon, but you did break up with VK, didn't you?"

"I-- yes-- but how is that even relevant?"

"This is what the whole group is about Harry." Jos answers patiently. You're not the first man who got his heart broken by VK. Everyone here has been dumped by him at some point in their lives. I'd share my own bitter story of heartbreak to make you feel a bit better, but you must excuse me, it's still too early and raw for me to talk about it."

"Jos, it's been 7 years since VK broke up with you! Get over it!" Harry can hear Jimmy's exasperated eye-roll through the text.

"You're one to talk, you're still pining after VK even though he left you a decade ago!" Joe immediately comes to Jos' defence.

And before Harry can blink, a fight has broken out over the chat, over which of them should be kicked out of the group, because a certain amount of years are too long to not be able to get over VK for. It's not a new fight, as evidenced by Kane, who's the group admin by virtue of being the first boyfriend VK had and dumped, stepping in to calm things down, and telling everyone sternly to maintain an atmosphere of civility, for this group was created as an outlet for all of VK's exes to connect and share their memories of him and help each other through the pain of seperation, not to criticize each other's relationships with him.

Ok, this is a multi chapter in the making.

First chapter - Harry gets entered into the chat and it's all explained, we get a bit of an intro into who else is in the chat group

Following chapters - each break up, painstakingly explained to Harry (though reader gets them not in text format but as if they were reliving the scene from breakupee's perspective).

Congrats, nonny, you added another long wind WIP to my list :P

[heyheydidjaknow]

Okay, so the official update deadline for me is now every Sunday before I sleep. This is the second part. If the formatting is off, I apologize. Also, if you want to read the first bit, the link’s at the bottom. And the third one. I know there’s a way to make it so that touching on underlined text or something links you to the link, but I dunno how to do that.

Chapter 2

Surprisingly enough, the easiest one to convince of your legitimacy is Hamato Yoshi.

As soon as you walk into the lair, all you have to say to Ratman is that his daughter “was” named Miwa (obviously, dropping a bombshell like, “Your daughter is alive,” is somewhat bad form) and that he was going to give her a fan/knife thing, and he is convinced. Maybe it is to do with his natural compassion and/or naivety, but it allows you the option to sleep on the couch and not have to wander around to find exactly where the hell that address is.

You pull your knees to your chest as you stare blankly at the dead television screen, mind wandering as you listen to the accumulative sounds of the others. You are used to being awake at ungodly hours, of course, but typically they are spent alone; this is an uncommon occurrence. Now, anyways, you wish you had a way of contacting people. You already feel homesickness writhe around in your stomach, and your dread for what is going to happen next is outmatched by your gnawing curiosity regarding the fate of your family in the fire. Of course, you know their chances for survival was close to none, but—

“Y/N?”

You almost jump out of your skin, having not noticed the sinking of the couch next to you. You look over at the speaker, relaxing slightly. You put your hand on your chest. “Sorry,” you breath to Donatello as you try to calm your beating heart. “I uh, kinda zoned out.”

“It’s alright.” His posture is awfully stiff. “I just figured—ya know, since we’re going to be interacting more—we should uh, get to know each other a bit.”

You nod as you stretch your legs back out. “Sounds like a plan.” You turn your body to face him, shaking a little from the start but getting over it relatively quickly. “Oh, by the by, you’re the one that can kill me with your bare hands. You can and should relax.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little,” you shrug. “But, in your defense,” you smile playfully, “if some random bitch walked up to me and started telling me every detail of my past, I’d be hesitant to get too friendly too.”

“Oh, it’s not that!” He put his hands up, talking oddly quickly. “It’s just that you’re the first human I’ve ever met, and really the only person I’ve ever really talked to that isn’t one of my brothers or Splinter—”

A memory slaps you across the face. “Oh! Right!” You grab his hands, making sure his full attention was on you. “I gotta tell you something really important.”

He went red. “W-what?”

“I don’t think it’s wise to tell you outright exactly what’s going to happen,” you start, impulsively running your thumb over one of his knuckles, “but if you run into a triceratops man, or if you hear about a triceratops man, you have to kill him immediately.”

“I- huh?”

“Three or so episodes before the season three finale,” you repeat, “you or someone else is going to run into a triceratops man, who you have to kill. If you let him live, the world as you know it will be destroyed and sucked into a black hole.”

“Black hole?” He blinks. “So, in a few months, we—what?”

“Well, they call it a black hole, anyways.” You roll your eyes. “It’s pretty weak sauce for a black hole. I’d hasten to call it more than a portal, but, I guess, technically, it’s a black hole.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about this sort of thing.” He smiles awkwardly. “You know, for someone who just kinda popped out of the blue.”

“Well, yeah.” You smile back. “People like you inspire me to learn more about how the world around me works.”

His pupils dilate, and he breaks eye contact. “Wait, but you said that we had at least until the season five finale, right?” You feel his thumb wrap around yours slightly. “If that’s the case, how can a black hole destroy our world? We’d die with it, wouldn’t we?”

“See, you would think that.” You shrug, letting his hands fall between you two. “But the show is already playing fast and loose with science in general, so.”

“I am legitimately so confused right now.”

You sigh, patting him on the shoulder. “Me too, buddy.”

“I just—“

“Honey.” You stifle a giggle. “No combination of words will make any of this make any more sense than it already does.”

“I know, but—“

“Listen, if you ask me any more questions, we’ll start having to deal with more time travel bullshit then we’ll already have to.”

He sighs. “Okay, I’m dropping it.”

You nod, already feeling the sting of guilt. “But, hey,” you nudge with your shoulder teasingly, “if it makes you feel any better, you definitely got the most sugar than your brothers.”

He blinks. “What does that have anything to do with that?”

“Compensation? I dunno.” You pull your legs under you. “Just trying to make up for the fact that it’s really not a good idea for me to give out too much info about an uncertain future.”

There is an awkward pause.

“So,” Donatello asks gently, “if you don’t mind me asking, you said you died, right?”

You nod.

“So, uh, how did you…?”

“House fire.”

He blinks. “You… you remember—?”

“Yup.” You chuckle tightly. “Every excruciating detail.”

He tenses slightly. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh. “Don’t be. Not your fault.” ‘My fault, actually.’

He rests his head on his hand. After a pause, “Do you know, then?”

“Know what?”

“You know, what happens after.”

You shake your head. “I blacked out and now I’m here. I’m guessing you don’t run into a ton of people like me.”

He cracks a smile. “I don’t really run into a ton of people period.”

You try to help lighten this stifling mod you have created. “Well, I’m glad your first introduction to humanity proper is through some psycho pseudo-Cassandra.”

“Less Cassandra and more just general prophet.” He grins. “If Raph believes you enough to go off the handle—well, I guess that’s just Raph in general.”

You chuckle. “Hey,” you whine teasingly, “lay off your brother. Obviously he’s a very levelheaded man.”

“Totally.” He rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Cool as a cucumber, that guy.”

“Speaking of, where is everyone?” You look around the noticeably empty living room.

“Sleeping, probably. I tend to stay up later than they do.”

“And why’s that, Bill Nye?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier to work when people aren’t asking for help with things.”

“That is very fair.” You close your eyes as you lean against the back of the couch. “I must say, I’m not envious of your position.”

You hear him shift closer. “Why’s that?”

“If you don’t already, you’re probably—at least, from what I’ve seen,” you clarify. “Well, it seems like, sometimes, you have the world on your shoulders. It can’t be a good feeling.”

A pause. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

You stretch upwards. “But” you continue, moaning softly as you feel your muscles crack, “if it makes you feel any better, I have—or at least had— access to the internet. I will gladly explain google.”

He clears his throat. “The internet search engine or the number?”

You grin. “Either or, although I would most certainly lose track if my zeros halfway through at best.”

He laughs. “It took me so long to figure out how to say it,” he sighs, “The trick is to just say zero for a long time and eventually just kinda zone out. You can really just stop after fifty and people won’t notice.”

“See,” you open your eyes, wrapping an arm around his shoulder—he certainly stiffened up quick— “that is why I like you, Donnie. You always know the score.”

He relaxes quickly. His speech is slurred a little. “You like me?”

“Hell yeah I do!” Your voice is noticeably lighter than it was before, more relaxed. “You are totally awesome, if you’ll pardon my candor.”

“N-not at all!” He smiled bashfully. “I’m flattered, really. I just—I’m surprised is all. I didn’t think you’d—uh—_like_ someone like me.”

“What? Why?” You are, apparently, extremely dense. “You’re the coolest guy ever!”

“Well, I’m not really a guy.”

“Wait, is this the whole turtle thing again?” You roll your eyes, leaning into him as you close them. “Dude, legitimately? I don’t care.”

His voice softened. “You what?”

“I don’t care. You’re smart, reliable, funny… I mean, what isn’t there to appreciate?” ‘I didn’t expect him to feel warm.’ “If I’m being honest,” you shrug in an attempt to stay casual, “and, if you promise not to give me shit—”

“I won’t,” he promises, almost eagerly.

You smile. “I will admit that I had a thing for you, along with many other people where I’m from. Fictional crush, you know.”

“You’re joking,” he challenges.

“Scout’s honor.” You raise your right hand, already starting to zone out. ‘Really warm…’

“You’re serious?”

You hum in confirmation. “I don’t…” You yawn, the weight of the incredible stress admittedly starting to take its toll. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable after what I just said,” you mumble, curling into him, admittedly not in your right mind, “but do you mind staying here until I fall asleep? Sup… surprisingly enough, you are ridiculously warm and comfortable and warm.”

He tenses up a little, but slowly wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Yeah. I’ve got nothing better to do.” His voice is gentle, soft.

“I owe you cupcakes.” You nod off.

--

You could tell you boosted his confidence if only a little bit. He stood taller the next night; admittedly, you feel a sense of pride at his pride. At least, it makes up for the verbal abuse from his brothers when they find you asleep together.

As you walk down the street that next night with Donnie shadowing you, you consider the pros and cons of revealing more about what you know; although there were certainly more items for pro, the chaos theory was sort of a big deal, and, knowing the reputation of this franchise and its post-apocalyptic bullshit, the last thing you need is to tempt fate. Still, something about this felt wrong, like not telling someone to get out of the way of a moving car. ‘Wish I were Cassandra,’ you think bitterly. ‘At least I wouldn’t feel bad.’

You stop in front of the offending building. ‘Finally.’ You look around for your chaperone and, after not seeing him— ‘Fucking ninjas, man.’—sigh and give in. “Good night,” you said to the open air.

You look back at the door, startled to see someone looking back at you. ‘You are fucking with me right now.’ You wave awkwardly as the man holds the door open for you. You step inside the building, making a beeline for the elevator. ‘A doorman? Really?’ The lobby was entirely too hotelish for your liking, the warm lighting bouncing off the smooth tile cleanly. ‘How much is this place, anyways? It’s fucking New York.’ You press one of the buttons. ‘If I’m the one paying rent, I am royally fucked.’

Somehow, via some sort of divine intervention, you find the apartment. You take the key out of your pocket— ‘Note to self: scavenge up enough money for a keychain.’—and stepped inside.

The apartment made you do a double take. It is so… familiar. Nicer than usual, more polished, yet somehow exactly how you’ would have used the space. The floors are hardwood, the walls painted a relatively neutral color that is easy on the eyes. As soon as you enter, you see the kitchen to your left; small, but considering it is only you, it would be perfect. To your left, down a short hall, is a bathroom—bright white surfaces with black countertops. And in the only other room in the apartment, in front of you, is a bed, a couch, some chairs, a table, a chest of drawers, a closet, a television, and a coffee table with a phone and an envelope on it.

You walk over to a large window overlooking the street, shutting it and sitting down on the couch. You pick up the letter first, carefully breaking its seal and pulling out a note and a card. Your heart leaps as you see your name in white lettering. ‘Well, having a credit card doesn’t sound too bad.’ You place it back onto the table as you start reading.

“Dear Y/N L/N:

We understand that the transition between your previous life and this one may be difficult, and we at The TIS are more than happy to provide for you and your needs during this transition period. Your questions are likely numerous. That is the purpose of this document, to address any concerns you may have.

Finances/Personal Belongings: The most noted concern of those just beginning in our program is to do with housing. We understand that it is incredibly important to the mental health of our members to have relatively stable housing, especially considering the strange, new environment they have been thrown into. Your residence is paid for by the TIS. All necessary emergency services (repair costs of any sort, medical bills, phone bills, etc.) and any utilities that may be included in said residence are also covered by this plan. In addition, your TIS assigned debit card will receive a daily balance of $300 (balance will change with inflation), which can be used at your discretion. Your residence has been pre-furnished to what our experts believe to be your taste, and your refrigerator and cupboards are filled with a variety of raw food items. Silverware, crockery and cookware has also been included. You have also been provided with various detergents and whatever hygiene products you used before your transition. These things will be replenished biweekly unless, for whatever reason, you start using different food/hygiene products. In this event, your inventory will be adjusted accordingly.

You are currently in position of one (1) weeks’ worth of clothing, including any undergarments applicable, which includes 7 pairs of pants and 7 shirts taken from your wardrobe, along with any clothing you are currently wearing.

Cell Phone: Your TIS assigned cell phone is, practically speaking, identical to your previous device. Any streaming services you were previously subscribed to, along with any you may decide to subscribe to, are covered by the TIS. Your login information is included with your banking/personal information, all of which is included in this envelope. If you wish to upgrade your phone as the years go by, or if you wish to purchase a second device, these log ins will still be available to you, although you will be required to purchase any additional software/electronics through our website: www.TISShop.org/FU. A charging cord and block are located by your bed. We recommend purchasing a case for your device.

Please note that all websites/services/apps previously available to you are also available via TIS approved electronic devices.

Employment: Employment has not been taken the TIS. We do not offer employment, although minors have been provided with a permit in the event that you chose to enter the workforce. If you choose to enter the workforce, aid will continue to be provided.

Enrollment: All minors are required by the TIS to enroll in their local school. Any documents required are provided in this envelope. If you are currently attending a college/university, or are thinking of enrolling/reenrolling, any credits you have accumulated will be transferred to whatever college/university you choose to attend. If you are currently a minor considering attending college, your funds will be provided by the TIS if applicable.

Identification: Any websites/services/products that are age restricted will be available to you, regardless of age.

Death: We at the TIS assure you that unnatural death, in your current situation, is not a matter that you need concern yourself with. While it is certainly possible to die, it is extremely unlikely, and we have the policy in place in the event of your death.

We at the TIS are aware of your awareness of the place you are now in. We wish to stress the importance consuming any media associated with the world in which you find yourself. If you gain nothing from this letter, please remember that we at the TIS are here for you, if only indirectly.

We wish you luck.”

The letter ends there. You check the envelope to see the other documents listed.

You stand up, picking up your new phone and laying down on the bed. You are left reeling from the little information you have been given. ‘So I was brought here. Well,’ you sigh, closing your eyes, ‘I guess I already knew that, but…’

You start scrolling through your device. Everything is still there, except for your contacts. You try to call what numbers you had memorized; they are apparently invalid.

You curl into a fetal position, clutching onto your jacket. “Well,” you mumble to yourself almost bitterly, “at least I know I won’t starve to death.” You decide against even turning the lights off as you hug yourself tightly. “This,” you decide, “is going to majorly suck.”

You nod off, already dreaming of smoke.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[generallynerdy]

At Home (Elrond X F!Reader)

Summary: And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

Requested by @lovinghufflepuffgirl: Hello, I believe this my first time requesting and I am so excited! My request is (if possible): Elrond courting the reader (she's a high born elf and a princess) and they fall in love. A grand wedding soon follows. Thank you so much!

Key: (Y/N) - your name, Imladris - the Sindarin (the more common Elf-tongue) name for Rivendell, fëar - souls/spirits in Quenya (the older, rarer Elf-tongue of High Elves) Warnings: cursing in the author’s note as usual, my sister and I made Tolkien-selves once and Elrond was my dad so this was really weird at first but I got over it, the Evenstar is from the movies and it has a sort of book equivalent but I didn’t want to leave out movie-only fans so pre-warning for book fans Word Count: 3,495 WOW. W O W. I have NO self control.

Note: technically speaking you could swap (Y/N) with Celebrian and this would be canon LMAO. Anyway, I made the reader Galadriel and Celeborn’s daughter since to my understanding Elves don’t have princesses? (I haven’t finished reading all Tolkien’s Arda things so I may be wrong, pls let me know if I am.) ALSO UH. This is the longest request I’ve written in,,,so long holy shit. This spiralled. I am so sorry.

     Imladris was beautiful, (Y/N) decided. After a mere few days there, she was certain she could live there for the rest of her exceedingly long life.

    As the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, (Y/N) was of High Elven blood, which many assumed meant that she was accustomed to a certain...luxurious lifestyle. In reality, she had spent much of her life in Lothlórien longing to be elsewhere. The forests of her home were beautiful, she had no doubt of that, but something in her wanted to be elsewhere.

    And, frankly, Imladris felt like that elsewhere.

    It was here she felt safe, here that she spent hours wandering the gardens, something she had hardly ever bothered to do before.

    It was also here that a certain Elf Lord lived.

    Lord Elrond was about (Y/N)’s age, relatively young-- for an Elf-- and a good leader, in (Y/N)’s humble opinion. He was respectful, well-spoken, and, well, handsome.

    The very moment (Y/N) met him, she received a knowing, teasing glance from both of her parents. It took every ounce of will the Elf maiden had to keep herself from either turning bright red or outright flirt with Elrond.

    Despite her excellent first impression of him, she wasn’t quite certain he thought the same of her. He’d hardly spoken a word to her beyond pleasantries.

    She would be offended, but he was a busy man and for that she could not blame him.

    (Y/N) was lucky enough to have a clear schedule. She used most of her time exploring Imladris and found what she believed was going to be her favourite place: a balcony carved into the mountains that overlooked the entire city, a waterfall tumbling nearby. There, she sat on the railing, letting her legs hang over the side despite the danger.

    “Might I join you, my lady?”

    She startled at the voice, but was smart enough not to jolt before she glanced back. “At your leisure, Lord Elrond. This is your home, after all.”

    The man that had yet to leave her thoughts since her arrival was standing there, remarkably relaxed for someone who'd been hosting the Elves of Lorien. The distant setting sun landed on his raven hair, bringing (Y/N)'s attention to it before her gaze slipped to his eyes. Often, the few humans she met spoke of the knowledge the Elves held and how it manifested in their eyes; how they had something beyond in them, how the years they'd lived always seemed plain in their irises. She'd never really understood it until she saw him, saw the wisdom his hundreds of years gave him. It was a funny thing, she thought, that their age would show in their eyes of all things. His were lovely.

Elrond moved to join her at the edge, allowing himself to sit on the railing almost sideways. His feet did not hang over the edge as (Y/N)'s did, but the idea that he'd already followed her so far made her smile.

"I had no desire to interrupt your thoughts," he added quietly as he made himself comfortable.

She knew he was fishing, curious as to what had brought her here. It amused her like nothing else. "Oh, I'm hardly preoccupied. I'm simply...admiring. Your realm is beautiful."

He raised his eyebrows. "High praise from a Lady of Lorien."

"Believe me, the forests of my home are a sight like none other, but this place..." She let out a deep, awed breath. "I have not the words for it. I find myself lost in its sights. I've done nothing these last days but explore, yet I feel there is still so much more to find."

His chuckle surprised her. "I thought the same when I found it. It's why I settled here, after all. I couldn't tear my eyes away. You find it to your liking, then?"

"I adore it," she declared. "Especially the waterfalls. They're almost...other-worldly, as odd as that may sound."

"Hardly," he said, waving a hand. "Have you passed through the one in the lower gardens? There's a cavern behind it with the most beautiful crystal formations in the walls."

Her eyes widened. "No, I hadn't realised. Which garden did you say?"

"I'll have to show you, I think, it's difficult to find." A smile crossed his face. "If you don't object."

"On the contrary, my lord, I'll hold you to your word," she teased, laughing. Then, she sighed. "I do think I could stay here for the rest of my days, if I had the choice."

A pause.

"You could stay, if you wanted," Elrond said suddenly.

(Y/N) turned to look at him so quickly that it almost hurt. "Pardon?"

The smile on his face was...shy, now, and hesitant. It took everything in her not to gawk at the Lord of Imladris being sheepish.

"You could stay, if you wish. There's too much to see for one visit, I think, but you could always return," he said, glancing out onto the horizon.

"And...you wouldn't mind if I stayed? I wouldn't want to become a nuisance," she murmured, reaching up reflexively to fix a strand of hair.

He looked over and shook his head immediately. "Not at all, my lady." Then, he smiled. "In fact, I would enjoy your company."

She was struck with overwhelming joy. Clearly, he hadn’t thought bad of her at all, a thought that had been nagging her. Maybe-- maybe he even thought of her what she did of him. Perhaps he was interested in her in the same way?

(Y/N) couldn't help a wide smile. "Very well, then, I'll stay. We can't have the mighty Lord Elrond dying of a broken heart, after all."

He laughed, his voice a song to her ears. Sitting there, overlooking the city with him, it occurred to her that, yes, she was right before. She could stay here for the rest of her life and be perfectly happy.

*

Many months later, (Y/N) had taken residence in Imladris permanently. (Of course, the lives of Elves were long and she knew not to take her welcome for granted, so many of her belongings still remained in Lothlórien.)

She'd explored much of the city by now, though there were always little things to discover. Many of her days were spent with Elrond, so many in fact that she was practically taking part of Lindir's job. The poor man didn't mind at all-- he was glad to have someone helping, actually.

Especially when it came to Elrond and his habits. (Y/N) found out quickly that he tended to bury himself in his work, regardless of what the work was. She decided, much to Lindir’s amusement, that it was her job to keep him from getting buried alive.

"My lord," she said in a sing-song tone, clearly teasing. "My lord?"

Elrond shot her a dry look from over the edge of his book. He was at his desk in his study, which was covered wall to wall in bookshelves. Lindir hovered by the door, holding back snickers as he watched (Y/N) walk about the desk, almost like she was teasing out a predator; far enough to be safe, but getting dangerously close. The glare they both received only added to the concept.

"This is important business," Elrond drawled. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"You said that many, many moments ago,” she sighed.

"You need to take a break."

"I need to be left alone," he shot back.

She gasped, offended. "Did you hear that, Lindir? How rude."

"How unbecoming of a Lord," her compatriot added, grinning mischievously.

Elrond looked up at both of them with a tired expression. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"

"Not until you die, my dear Elrond," (Y/N) declared decidedly. "Now, let's see...how could I possibly drag you away--"

She cut herself off, snatching the book he held from his hands with the speed of Shadowfax. He made an offended noise, but the deed was done and she waved it about almost gleefully.

"Oh, look! No work now," she said lightly.

"Give it back--"

She smiled brightly. "Or I could--"

"Don't you dare," he very nearly growled, already pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

"I dare!" she laughed, already darting toward the door. "How rude of you! You are chasing a lady of Lorien!"

"I am chasing a nuisance!" he huffed, chasing after her. "And a threat to my crown!"

The laugh she barked out was almost uncivilized, but she masked it by slipping behind Lindir, using him almost as a human shield. Meanwhile, Lord Elrond stood opposite her, frowning and no doubt trying to use Lindir to his advantage.

"Did you hear that, Lindir?” she asked once more. “I'm a threat to his crown!"

"I can hardly believe it, my lady," he replied dryly.

Elrond made a grab for the book, but she ducked away at the last moment, making a run for the door.

"You'll have to catch me, my lord!" she cackled, very glad that she'd chosen comfortable shoes that morning.

He was right on her heels. "You'll regret this!"

Left behind, Lindir sighed and rolled his eyes, now that he was no longer in respectable company. "One of these days they'll realise this isn't normal."

Outside, in the streets of the city, it was thankfully too dark and too late for anyone to witness Lord Elrond chase Lady (Y/N) building to building, garden to garden. She led him right to the lowermost garden, where he'd shown her the cavern beyond the waterfall weeks and weeks ago. Once there, she quickened her pace and ducked behind a tree to hide.

(Y/N) tried to keep her heaving breaths quiet, peeking around the trunk every few moments.

She frowned when he didn't seem to follow. He'd just...disappeared, really. Looking in the direction from whence she came, she took a step back and shrieked when she hit someone's chest.

Strong arms wrapped around her, but not in a way that was restrictive; she could fight her way out if she wanted. Elrond's rumbling laughter came from deep within his chest. (Y/N) felt it more than heard it as he grabbed his book from her hand. She burst into near-childish giggles.

"I believe this is mine," Elrond hummed.

When she could breathe again, she turned in his hold and hit his chest good-naturedly. "That was terrifying!"

"I thought it would make us even," he said, the smile on his face worth every second of fear.

(Y/N) realised abruptly how close they were, mere inches apart, really. It didn't help that she was still breathing heavily from their chase, something he mimicked as well. His smile fell and his expression became...not solemn, but thoughtful.

"Is my distraction working?" (Y/N) asked, tilting her head slightly.

He chuckled. "Thoroughly." His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, then back up again.

(Y/N) felt her heart in her chest. For months they'd danced around each other, always thinking but never acting. She was so unbelievably fond of this man, this place, this feeling. It never seemed to leave her alone and yet she'd never done anything about it. Her mother had urged her repeatedly to ask to court him, but it always felt...early.

Elrond let out a sharp breath. "May I--?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, already knowing what his question was.

He leaned forward and slanted his mouth against hers, taking away what little air she had left in her lungs. His touch was unbearably gentle and curious, always curious. (Y/N) had never experienced anything quite like it, she thought. It was remarkably like her first day in Imladris.

When they finally pulled apart, she let out a soft laugh, which he echoed. He pulled her closer, closer still, and held her, resting his forehead against hers. And they stayed there, in the garden, comfortably silent.

*

Months went by and slipped into years. The time that passed was mere moments in the life of an Elf, yet (Y/N)'s days in Imladris had never felt longer. Each one was a new adventure, a new experience, and to get to live it by Elrond's side was a blessing.

They began officially courting some time after the garden incident, which Lindir was grateful for. (According to him, their 'pining' was becoming insufferable. (Y/N) had no idea what he was talking about.) Elrond wore the Evenstar, a family heirloom gifted to him by his new partner, while (Y/N) had a circlet of silver to match his own, which he'd had specifically made for her.

It was a slow, comfortable sort of thing, a pace both of them were comfortable with.

Some days, though, (Y/N) felt as though the courtship was pointless. They were practically married as it was, living together and ruling together, in most ways. Elrond had insisted on her becoming comfortable as a lady of Imladris, simply to see if she would enjoy it at all, and she'd fit into the role quite well. The two were, essentially, already settled into a life together.

(Y/N)'s parents thought the same from what she could gather from their letters. Her father, at least, was insisting on a wedding soon, but her mother was far more patient. Celeborn had always been fond of ceremonies, but (Y/N) begged him to wait. She didn't want to push Elrond, not with how busy he always was.

Every week, another letter would come in the mornings by messenger and, every week, she would write a letter back.

One week, however, she didn't receive a letter.

"You're certain?" she asked the messenger.

"Yes, my lady," he replied nervously. "I have no letter for you, only two for my Lord Elrond. I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Odd. Here, I'll take them. He's out with a hunting party."

He handed over the letters, which she took graciously. Biting her lip, (Y/N) was almost tempted to read them when she recognised her mother's handwriting on the outside of both letters. She stopped herself, though, reminding herself that it could be official White Council business. (That was one of the few things she had yet to get involved with.)

Still, it made her smile, seeing her partner's name written in her mother's script. He was fitting in with her family as well as she was fitting in with his home.

A storm of horse's hooves against stone echoed across the city. (Y/N) smiled to herself. Speak of the devil...

Turning on her heel, she watched Elrond ride up to her on his faithful steed, covered head to toe in shining, beautifully crafted armour. He smiled fondly at the sight of her, coming to stop just beside her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dearest?" he asked, preparing to dismount. "You never greet me upon arrival."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to embrace you with the armour and you know it. A messenger from Lorien arrived this morning with two letters for you. From my mother."

His eyes widened. "Oh. I hadn't realised-- one moment--"

He dismounted from his horse, his hesitation making (Y/N) frowned. As soon as he was on the ground, he removed his gauntlets and took the letters, opening the first envelope curiously. When he looked up to see (Y/N) watching him, he smiled.

“I would ask you not to worry, but I know it’s pointless,” he teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Since I’ve come here, my mother has never neglected to write to me, but the one time she does, she writes two letters to you. Care to explain, dearest?”

Elrond chuckled. “Momentarily.”

Pulling out the first letter, he skimmed over its content. Something in the letter caught his eye and suddenly he was beaming, his smile brighter than the sun.

“What?” (Y/N) asked, voice tinged with concern. “What is it?”

Abruptly, he handed her the second letter. She went to rip it open, but he stopped her. “Ah, wait.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’ll break your fingers.”

He grinned and held out his hand to her. “Humour me?”

“Fine,” she sighed.

Much to (Y/N)’s surprise, he led her away from the main road of the city and down a familiar path. She laughed when she realised they were headed for the lowermost garden, the place he’d kissed her for the first time, the place he’d spoken of the very first time they’d met. Elrond muttered something about wanting to get rid of his armour, but when she asked, he waved her off.

Finally, he seemed pleased when they found a small stone bridge over a deep creek, a place shaded by trees with a waterfall nearby.

Elrond turned to her and took both of her hands in his, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. (Y/N) eyed him curiously. She appreciated the gesture, but her curiosity was eating at her. What could her mother have possibly said that prompted this?

“(Y/N),” he called gently, gaining her attention.

“Hm?”

She smiled when he reached out, taking a gentle hold of her chin.

“You have become as much a home to me as this city is,” he murmured, his thumb running up and down the length of her jawline. “Anything you’d ask of me, I would do it.”

She shook her head. “Elrond--”

“I know you would never ask for anything unreasonable and I love you all the more for it,” he added quickly. “And I do love you, more than anything. I don’t think I can imagine living as long as I will without you here.”

“Neither can I,” she admitted with a little laugh.

“(Y/N) of Lorien,” he breathed out, taking both of her hands again, “I humbly ask for your hand: your life, your love. I ask that you make Imladris your home, that you stay at my side for as long as the both of us are on this land and beyond.”

    (Y/N) exhaled shakily. “Oh...oh, my Elrond,” she said, moving to cup his head in her hands. “I’m already home. You never had to ask.”

    She initiated the kiss, capturing his lips with hers and pulling him close. The way he responded, clutching the material of his dress, was almost a thing of relief. He was weightless, so weightless, standing there with her. And (Y/N) felt the same, felt at home here, in ways she never had in the forests of her birth.

    Elrond was the first to pull away. “I had to ask your parents,” he said, laughing.

    “I’m going to kill them,” she hissed, though she didn’t mean it for a second.

    When he pulled her back into his arms, she let herself breathe in and breathe out, her lungs filling with the sweet smell of safety and of love.

*

    Weddings weren’t as ceremonial to Elves as they were to Men. Yes, the ceremony was still a beautiful thing and the respective families attended as best they could manage, but it didn’t take nearly as long to plan.

    As soon as (Y/N)’s parents arrived, they were ready to go.

    (Y/N) donned her best fabrics, just as Elrond did, and met her father, who would escort her to her soon-to-be husband.

    Because Elrond was lord of his people, there were many, many Elves in attendance, which made (Y/N) nervous. However, from the moment she spotted her beloved Elrond, the crowd melted away and a smile came across her face.

    He was speaking quietly with her mother, who held the strips of fabric that would symbolically bind them to each other. But he looked up and saw her, his entire demeanor seeming to shift. He was lighter, all of a sudden, and his eyes shined. Her heart ached to stand with him, to hold his hands and tell him she loved him.

    Soon enough, she was standing with him, her father standing dutifully beside his wife.

    Her mother smiled softly at both of them, but (Y/N) couldn’t draw her eyes away from her partner. Elrond was the same, the twinkle in his eyes saying what he couldn’t.

    “Elrond Peredhel, (Y/N) of Lorien, today the Valar will witness a binding of your fëar,” her mother said. 

She lifted the white fabric and motioned for them to hold out their hands. When they did so, (Y/N) grasping Elrond’s with a breath of relief, she wrapped it around both of them, binding them together.

“And with this, the two of you are bound, forever promised, on these shores and beyond. May you live and love without fear, without darkness.”

As one, (Y/N) and Elrond spoke; “On these shores and beyond.”

And when he kissed her-- fiercely, recklessly-- she’d never felt more at home.

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Hey idk if I've already sent this but how would V, jumin and zen react when mc is on her period and gets angry very very easily (you accidentally bump into her? Well now you're dead) and then mc gets very sad because she got angry at them and starts crying (I'm like this when I'm on my period and no one comes near me lol it sucks) it's fine it you don't want to do it but if you decide to do it then thank you so much 😊😊😊

OOF GIRL SAME I-

Also imma try a new format hope y’all like it

Zen, Jumin and V reacting to an MC who gets super emotional on her period:

Zen:

So this poor fella has no idea that you’re on your period, and that day, when he came come, he found some delicious candies on the table. He thought, oh well, why not eat one? They look absolutely delicious. Biggest mistake of his life. You came in the kitchen, just in time to find your boyfriend munching on your delicious candies.

THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN.

You glared at him and Zen immediately froze, midway through the candy. Before Zen could defend himself you very angrily asked him WHY did he eat YOUR candy??? Did he buy it? No??? Then WHY WAS HE EATING IT!

You had been saving that candy since the morning, and after a stressful day decided to eat it while you watched your comfort movies and series that you always binged when you were in your period. It made you so mad that he had taken a bit of candy, and he realized. Zen tried to apologize, over and over but you wouldn’t hear it.

You huffed and quickly ran to your room, banging closed the door.

And that’s when Zen realized, he fucked up.

After a few minutes Zen gently knocked on the door, and you replied with a sort of rude “what.”

“Y/N...I’m sorry I ate your candy without permission. I know how much you love them and to eat them without asking was terrible for me to do. Would you forgive me if I went and bought you some more? And how about I add a snuggle session for later hm? Would that make you happy babe?”

It went quiet. Slowly, you opened the bedroom door and tackled Zen in a big hug. “IM SORRY!” You cried. “I’m just on my period and I’m so emotional today and I just got really mad for no reason, Zenny you’re allowed to eat how many candies you want I’m sorry!”

Zen chuckled and held you tight, telling you it was alright. The rest of the afternoon, the two of you watched TV and ate some of your favorite food, cuddling and giving each other kisses.

Jumin:

He was so busy with work!!!!

You knew that you shouldn’t get mad about something like that, but you couldn’t help but feel neglected! That afternoon you and Jumin were supposed to eat together and watch some movies, Jumin had taken the day off just for that, because you told him he needed to rest. Yet...there he was, locked in his office, on the phone with his coworkers and documents piled up in his desk.

For about the fifth time that day, you gently knocked on Jumin’s door and brought him some food. You were both supposed to be eating together, but that was two hours and a half ago. He must’ve been hungry and you weren’t in the mood for a romantic dinner anymore. Jumin looked up as you placed the plate on his desk, and he grabbed your hand and kissed it, as a thank you.

“I will be done soon, my love.” He whispered, but you knew that he would probably be busy the rest of the day. You shook your head and tried to smile, telling him it was fine.

It also didn’t help that you were in your period. You tried to leave as quick as possible because you didn’t want to be mad at this perfection of a man. It wasn’t his fault and he was doing his best! Yet you still felt way too emotional and you couldn’t help but...feel a bit angry. It was mostly because you knew he was overworking himself, and you felt like he was ignoring your concerns for him...

You went to your bed and laid there, under the mattresses and didn’t come out until you hear a silent knock on the door. “My love..?” Jumin asked, as he went into the room. Slowly you sat up on the bed and Jumin looked at you with guilt all over his face. “I’m so sorry.” He said, after a few minutes of silence. You slowly opened your mouth to tell him that it was alright. You were just worried. But all that came out of your mouth was a pound sob and before you could realize it, tears were streaming down your face. Jumin quickly walked over to you and gave you a hug, and you tightened your grip on him while you sobbed.

“I’m, I’m sorry” you cried. “I just- why are they such assholes, I- you never get to r-rest, and I want to spent t-time with you, but they just w-want you all for themselves, and today w-was supposed to be OUR day, but y-you had to work again, and you al-always d-do you beeeeest”

“Love-”

“AND I, dont w-want to be ungrateful or anything b-because you’re doing so m-much but I don’t want you t-to suddenly collapse because of overworking y-yourself and you d-don’t listen to me, Jumin I don’t want to end up a widow because y-you die from overwork you know?! And I-it’s not fair you ignore me g-getting worried, WAHHHHH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.”

After a few minutes of sobbing, you finally calmed down and wiped your eyes. “I’m sorry Jumin. I know this is not the best way to express myself...but in my defense my hormones are going a bit crazy right now because of my period...”

“You’re on your period?” He asked, and you nodded. Say no more. Jumin immediatly took a whole week off and spent the rest of the time cooking for you, buying you crazy amounts of chocolates, hugging you and kissing you. He knew you were just worried for him and he got why you would be a bit mad because he’s not taking care of himself, after all, he’s the same with you.

The rest of the time you both cuddled and kissed each other, watching your favorite movies and laying in bed till noon.

V:

It had all happened in a flash. But V accidentally threw your chocolate cake on the floor. Your chocolate cake.

YOUR CHOCOLATE CAKE

You immediately gave a yelp and cried, and maybe also yelling at V a bit.

You were in your period, and right now the only thing that could make you feel better was a slice of chocolate cake. But V didn’t make that possible. As soon as you screamed at V “HEY V WHAT THE HELL” and he flinched you immediately feel bad.

V knelt on the floor beside you and tried to pick up the pieces of chocolate cake that he thought maybe you could save.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said, guiltily. You shook your head and tried not to cry.

“No V don’t apologize...gravity isn’t your fault, and I wasn’t watching my step. Sorry for getting mad.”

“But..I still bumped into you. Sorry.”

“V nO - I JUST SAID IT WASNT YOUR FAULT

“IM SORRYYY”

I’m just kidding lmao

After a thousand apologies, you hugged V and told him that he could make it up by helping you cook some more chocolate cake. That immediatly brightened both of your moods, and you spent the afternoon baking some delicious cake, and cookies, and cupcakes, and more cookies, and making tons and tons of sweet snacks (like torta chilena UFFF ITS DELICIOUS)

V was immediatly pardoned, and honestly who could stay mad at him for that long? You gave him a little peck on the nose and told him that everything was fine and that you were happy. Then you both went out to your little patio and ate your food while watching a beautiful sunset.

[pearlsephoni]

When Immortal Meets Ineffable

Can also be read on AO3 

Rating: G 

Fandoms: Good Omens, The Old Guard

Pairings: Joe/Nicky, Aziraphale/Crowley (ofc)

Summary: Nicky's love for books has introduced him to many wonders, but he never anticipated meeting a pair of men whose existence seems just as impossible as his own. Or: a gay, immortal couple walks into an old bookshop owned by a gay, angel/demon couple. 

A/N:  The sign on Aziraphale's bookshop door is real, I copied the text from here lol And I owe my life to this 3D recreation of the shop Also this is my first time attempting to publish a fic on here, so pardon any formatting weirdness. More author’s notes can be found on the AO3 page!

Immortality was exhausting. It was impossible to build a normal life and settle down without sparking suspicion, so no single place could be “home” for very long. They couldn’t build a family, or climb the ladder of a career, or even build many friendships outside of their core group. 

Without the more…“standard” goals available to them, each member of the Old Guard ended up setting their own personal quests. Andy learned every language and style of martial arts she could. Booker challenged himself to try a new whiskey at every bar they visited. Joe was close to completing his goal of visiting every possible art museum in Eurasia, and would soon be expanding his scope to the world. And Nicky was determined to read as many of the world’s books as possible. 

But that wasn’t the only reason why he and Joe ended up seemingly visiting every bookshop in Europe. Living forever meant you had an infinite amount of time to lose and find things, and unfortunately for Nicky, his list of lost items included a near-first edition copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy. 

Books didn’t hold the same appeal for Joe, but he was still always willing to join his life partner in his visits to bookshops. What caused him chagrin wasn’t the visits, but the seemingly futile quest to find such a rare copy of a classic book. So when Nicky immediately tugged his jacket back on to head into London, Joe was a bit more reluctant than usual. 

“Hayati, wouldn’t we have better luck looking in museums for something so rare?” 

“I’m not just looking for La Commedia, my heart,” Nicky reminded him with a small smile. “I need a new book to read, too.” 

“Of course, and that’s why you are going to Waterstones and not another small, old bookshop?” That small smile turned guilty, and Joe couldn’t help letting out a sigh. “Do you have a destination in mind, or will you be wandering again?” 

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” 

It wasn’t fair of Nicky to use his rare, broad smiles to win their smaller bickers, he knew it. But even a relationship with the love of his life wouldn’t have lasted almost a millennium without the occasional cheap trick. And it was so hard to feel guilty when his little tricks resulted in Joe’s hand warmly wrapped around his as they walked through London. 

As it so happened, he did have a destination in mind: A.Z. Fell & Co., an old bookshop that he remembered seeing on a random street corner in London. It had been closed the first (and last) time he tried to pay it a visit, all those years ago, and the sign on the door detailing the store hours simply raised more questions than answers for Nicky: 

Bookshop Opening Hours: 

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays.) 

-A.Z. Fell, Bookseller 

“It’s a miracle this place is still running,” Joe muttered now, squinting at the wordy sign. Nicky was more interested in the sign hanging next to it, blissfully simpler and blessedly flipped to read, “Open.” The door was unlocked, and rang with a cheerful jingle as the immortals pushed it open. 

“Hello there! Welcome to A.Z. Fell & Co!” 

Nicky had barely been able to fully take in the warm, crowded space of the bookshop before his attention was pulled to a small, pale man dressed in a white suit. He seemingly appeared out of thin air from behind a small desk next to a bookshelf to the left. He had a bright, welcoming smile, and looked positively cherubic with his light blonde curls and rosy cheeks. “How may I help you today?” 

“Oh, I-” 

“We’re just looking,” Joe cut in, giving Nicky a gentle nudge. It was a reminder enough not to draw attention with their unusual search. “Wanted to see what we could find in such a unique shop.” 

“Lovely! Well, if you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to ask!” 

“Thank you,” Nicky replied with a smile, before wandering over to the cluster of bookshelves on their right, pulling Joe with him. 

He always lost track of time in bookshops. Even Joe, for all he insisted that Nicky was the reader, could get lost in the trinkets and random findings to be seen in an old shop. Maybe that was why, for all their battle-honed instincts and attention to detail, they didn’t realize someone else had entered the store until a new voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Angel!” 

“Ah, Crowley! What a pleasant surprise! What’re you doing here?” 

“Just wanted to see what you’ve got in stock.” 

“Really?”

“No, of course not, I was going to ask you to lunch.” 

“Oh! Well...that’s very kind of you, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just close my shop in the middle of the day!”

“Yes you can, it’s your shop, if anyone can, it’s you.” 

“But I have customers! Like...like these young men!” 

Nicky, with a thousand years of life behind him, never thought of himself nor Joe as “young.” No matter how ageless they were, every year weighed on them, a burden that was only bearable because they didn’t have to weather it alone. So it didn’t occur to him that they were the “young men” the shop owner referred to, until the small, pale man suddenly appeared at his elbow. “Hello there! May I help you with anything?” 

A Genovese curse flew from his lips, followed by a grunt after Joe gently pinched him. Nicky smiled apologetically at the owner. “Sorry, ah...we’re alright, just looking.” 

“Yes, well…” The shop owner had a confused tilt to his eyebrows, at odds with his kind smile. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but...was that Old Genovese you were speaking?”

“You recognize it?” Nicky blurted out before he could stop himself. It had been centuries since either of the immortals had met someone else who knew the language. 

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s been a while since I’ve heard it.” A pink tint had risen to the small blonde’s cheeks, and his eyes now had a proud glint to them. “That’s very impressive, I didn’t think anyone spoke it anymore!”  

“No...neither did we.” He glanced at Joe, and was met with eyes that looked as disconcerted as he felt. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if you need help with anything!” The shop owner cheerfully strolled back to the counter, where his friend - Crowley, Nicky remembered - was staring at him and Joe with what felt like suspicion, even through his sunglasses. The redhead murmured something to the blonde that made the latter glance back at them with another smile, one that Nicky returned before he quietly urged Joe behind another bookshelf. 

“What the hell?” Joe hissed as soon as they were out of eyeline of the shop owner. 

“Language, tesoro mio.” 

Joe’s words switched to old Maghrebi, but remained just as confused and indignant. “Nico, we haven’t met anyone else who speaks Genovese in decades, maybe even centuries, if we don’t count linguists.”

“I know.” 

“So how does an owner of an old bookshop recognize it?” 

“We’ve seen some books that are much older than what we usually see in a shop like this. Maybe he recognized it from a book?” Even as he uttered the words, Nicky knew the explanation was pathetic. The look of disbelief he received from his lover let him know he wasn’t alone in thinking that. 

“He said it’s been a while since he’s heard it,” Joe reminded him. “And he recognized it as it was spoken, not written down somewhere.” 

“What are you trying to say? That he’s another immortal? One we somehow haven’t dreamed of in all this time?” 

“No, of course not...but…” Joe peered at the shop owner and his friend through a gap in the books. “Maybe there’s something different about him. Maybe immortals aren’t the only strange people in the world.” 

“Even if that were true, Yusuf, don’t you think we would have run into one before? Our abilities have been noticed before, by people who didn’t know what to look for. We of all people would have noticed if there were other powers out there.” 

“Unless they do as much as we do to stay out of notice.” 

It was Nicky’s turn to peer at the odd couple through the books, except this time, the redhead, Crowley, was looking right at him. Or at least, in their direction. He jerked away from the bookshelf and immediately moved deeper into the shop, tugging Joe with him. “We can talk with the others about it later. For now, let’s buy something and leave.”

“Still determined to find your book?”

Nicky offered a sweet smile to Joe, but didn’t bother hiding the mirth in his eyes. “Of course, my heart.” 

He didn’t end up finding the book he was looking for, much to his disappointment and Joe’s quiet amusement. But he did find an old, old Italian Bible that stirred distant memories of a classroom reciting verses, and that was enough to justify the visit. 

Satisfied in his choice, he moved towards the cashier register, only to be pulled up short by Joe. Nicky furrowed his brows in confusion - for someone who had been so reluctant to come, Joe suddenly seemed very keen on staying. He glanced back at him to find those dark eyes trained on the men behind the counter, one finger to his lips. Battle instincts kicked in, and he obediently trained his hearing to the low muttering coming from the other men. 

“Now really, Crowley, it’s simply not possible! Even if the Almighty really did send spies after us, I would at least recognize them. I’ve never seen those men in my life!” 

“Then maybe they’re demons. We’ve always had better corporeal disguises anyway. Would explain why we don’t recognize them.” 

“Have you ever seen demons behave like that with each other?” 

“Like what?” 

“Oh come now, you must have felt it. The energy around them is downright bursting with love! It’s just like…”

“...Angel, like what?”

“W-well...like two people in love. Nothing at all like you demons behave.”

“‘You demons’? Might I remind you of who saved the most valuable books here, Aziraphale?” 

It could’ve been just another argument between an old couple, especially an old married couple. There was no mistaking the love and pure affection that drenched every bickering phrase between them. But where Nicky had thought “Angel” was a sweet nickname, the casual use of terms like “demons” and “the Almighty” stirred a deeper sense of suspicion awake in him...and a rush of exhilaration. The sensible majority of his mind told him there was no earthly way he was staring at an angel and a demon. Even if angels and demons were real, they wouldn’t own an old bookshop, or walk around dressed like a dandy or an aged member of a rock band. 

But a small part of him, the part of him that had him wandering to a church on calm Sundays and uttering panicked prayers over Joe’s body in the middle of battle, felt a thrill at the idea that he was staring at proof. Proof that his centuries of faith, his short-lived livelihood in the church, wasn’t in vain. When he finally tore his eyes away from the odd couple to look at Joe, he was met with a small smile of understanding under an unsure gaze. Of course his love understood what was running through his mind, even without a single word uttered between them. 

Nicky took a steadying breath before he finally nodded at Joe, giving his hand a light squeeze. The shop owner and his...friend (partner?) were still bickering when they approached the cashier, and Nicky caught snippets of something about a church, a bomb, a satchel of books, before the argument was cut short by their arrival at the counter. 

“Ah, gentlemen, hello again! Did you find everything alright?” the small blonde man - Azira...phale..? - greeted them with a wide smile, while Crowley simply stared at them with an unnervingly straight face. His gaze prickled at Nicky’s awareness, despite his best attempts to ignore him and return Aziraphale’s smile. 

“I didn’t find the book I was looking for, but you have many rare gems here.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t find it!” 

“Don’t be. We have visited almost every bookshop in Europe in search of it,” Joe snorted with a grin. “At this point it’ll take a miracle to find it.” 

Aziraphale perked up at Joe’s response, and glanced eagerly at Crowley...who returned the blonde’s hopeful smile with a stony stare. A moment of silence passed before the redhead finally muttered, “Sounds like you won’t be finding it any time soon.” 

“No, but that’s alright. Seeing all these wonderful little shops offers a special kind of joy,” Nicky murmured with a reassuring smile to Aziraphale. “You should be proud of this shop. It’s a lovely refuge in this city.” 

The owner looked a bit crestfallen, but brightened at Nicky’s smile and words. “That’s very kind of you to say! I’ve had it for quite a while, so it’s turned into a home of sorts for me. I’m so glad it feels that way to my patrons as well!” 

Crowley’s attention was back on Nicky, and even though he couldn’t see the redhead’s eyes, he didn’t feel as burdened by the scrutiny anymore. It felt somehow softer now, more of a mild annoyance as the transaction was carried out. Crowley had been so quiet throughout their visit that when he suddenly spoke up, the surprise nearly made Nicky drop the small paper bag containing his book. “Just out of curiosity...what book were you looking for?” 

“Ah...an early edition of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian. First edition, if possible.” 

“...Dante’s Divine Comedy?” Crowley repeated, skepticism practically dripping off his words. “You’re looking for a first edition from the late Middle Ages?” 

Nicky could hear the rustle of Joe straightening just behind him, ready to defend his admittedly-futile quest. He shifted just enough to hook their pinkies together in reassurance while he shot a small smile at Crowley. “More just seeing if it’s possible to find outside of a museum.” 

Crowley nodded, but he still had a small frown of disbelief on his lips as he wandered towards the bookshelves at the very back of the shop. Aziraphale watched him meander away with wariness and hope lining his eyes, a combination of emotions that made Nicky wonder what kind of history the odd couple shared to prompt that kind of response. 

“Nicolo,” Joe murmured, pulling him out of his idle curiosity. “We should be going. Andy will wonder what happened to us.” 

“Right...yes, of course.” Nicky smiled again at Aziraphale, who suddenly looked panicked at their impending departure. “Thank you again.” 

“Oh, are you leaving so soon? A-are you sure I can’t help you find anything else? I have other first editions that might interest you!” 

“Really, it’s alright-” 

“Here we are.” Crowley was suddenly back at Aziraphale’s side, tossing a book onto the countertop with a carelessness that became alarming when Nicky realized what he was staring at: an old, worn volume, the cover made of what used to be red leather, but was now faded into a dull brown. Pressed into the leather, and traced with gold flakes, were the words “La Commedia.” Nicky reached out to brush the worn cover, gingerly lifting it to reveal the title page, where he could read the publication date: 1438. “This...this is…” 

“Not quite first edition, but about as good as you’re gonna get outside of a museum.” Crowley’s voice was casual, as if he had simply found any old book. But his smirk was smug, the gravity of his achievement definitely not lost on him, especially when Aziraphale was staring at him in what could only be described as adoration. 

“How...how did you find this?” 

“Call it a little miracle. How much does a little miracle cost, angel?” 

“Oh, ah...well, the best miracles are priceless, wouldn’t you say?” 

Nicky’s gaze jerked away from the book to stare at Aziraphale in shock. “No, I’m sorry, I cannot in good faith take this without paying you.” 

“No, really-”

“Please, I insist-” 

The shopowner was strangely reluctant to give Nicky a price, but with Joe’s help, they were able to settle on an amount. By the time they left the bookshop, it was even later than they had planned on leaving, but Nicky was in such a daze of disbelief over his luck, Joe ended up being the one to call Andy. 

“Boss, we know, we’re sorry, but you’ll never believe- no, trust me, even Booker will get excited over this. We’ll be there soon, it will be worth the wait, I promise.” He laughed as he tucked his phone away, shaking his head fondly at Nicky. “Well, my heart, I hope this find is worth Andy’s wrath. She is not happy with us.” 

“Yusuf...who were those men?” Nicky was staring numbly into the bag, still not believing the impossibly old book he held in his hands. 

“What do you mean?” 

He finally looked away from his new treasure to meet Joe’s eyes. “Do you think...that maybe…” 

“What? That an angel and demon helped us find a book?” 

“Stranger things have been true.” 

“Perhaps…” Joe’s arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist, tucking him against his body to drop a kiss to his temple. “Whatever those men were, they were kind. I hope the bookshop continues to do well.” 

“Mm...thank you for coming with me.” Nicky’s smile was full of adoration, and earned him another kiss, this time on his lips. 

“Of course, hayati. Anything for you.” 

“Anything? Well, there’s another book I’ve been looking for-” 

“Buuuuut Andy and Booker might not approve.” 

After almost 1000 years, he should have been able to better resist the effect of Joe’s cheeky smile. But after almost 1000 years, Nicky wasn’t in the habit of denying himself the little joys to be found in life, especially when they came from this impossible man. 

[roman-writing]

you search the mountain (4/6)

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Pairing: Jaina Proudmore / Sylvanas Windrunner

Rating: M

Wordcount: 15,080

Summary: The borders of Kul Tiras are closed to all outsiders. Sylvanas, Banshee Queen, hopes to use the impending civil war in Boralus to her advantage, and thereby lure Kul Tiras to the side of the Horde. A Drust AU

Content Advisory: horror, blood, gore, typical Drustvar spooky deer shit

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

NOTES: 

I got about 10k words into this chapter before I realised I needed to split it up, otherwise it would be stupidly long. Plus I was going mad trying to scroll through my monstrously large gdoc last chapter and I didn't want to do that again. So, here you go. An early present.

Next chapter will be some big battles and then they finally smooch or something idk don't ask me 

--

This time, Sylvanas did not ask. 

“I am taking your cavalry,” she told Lucille.

For the last few days since the battle of Barrowknoll, Lucille had turned into Sylvanas’ primary point of contact among their new allies. She acted as an envoy between Sylvanas and Jaina, when the two of them would refuse to speak with one another. She had been puzzled by the abrupt change, but had not complained. 

Now, Lucille blinked at her, opened her mouth to dispute this, then thought better of it when she saw the look on Sylvanas’ face. Raising her hands as though in surrender, Lucille said, “They are yours.”

She found Hayles and the others enjoying a spot of Drustvar tea, which she had come to learn was normal tea with a healthy dose of whiskey tipped in for good measure. It was the third day since the battle of Barrowknoll, and their little army was still fortifying the town after wrenching it from the hands of the Ashvanes. Anya was there, playing dice with the cavalrymen, who had grown leery of her around cards and now insisted she use their dice. Somehow she still won nearly every round, and a few of them groaned about the luck of the dead as they handed over coins. 

When Sylvanas approached, Hayles glanced up from where he sat on a pile of bricks being used to repair the church. After their victory, he had warmed up somewhat to the Horde forces, but he was still wary of their leader. Still, he lifted his mug to her. “A good morrow, Warchief. Can I help you?”

“Gather up a scouting party, Captain. No more than thirty,” Sylvanas ordered coldly. “We are riding north.”

Hayles drained his mug then slammed it onto the ground. He wiped excess tea from his beard with the back of his hand as he stood. “Been waiting for clear orders from the Lady Waycrest. What’s the plan, then?”

“The plan is we are going scouting,” said Sylvanas.

“Aye, but we was hoping for a bigger picture. Are we wintering here?”

A number of his men were openly eavesdropping on the conversation now. Even Anya had stopped rattling around a set of dice in favour of listening. Sylvanas swept her gaze over them, then said brusquely, “Get on your horses.” 

With a shrug, Hayles pulled his gloves from where they were tucked into his belt and began tugging them over his hands. He looked over his shoulder at his men, who had not yet moved. “You heard the Lady!” he barked. “Get off your arses, you fussocks!”

Immediately, they began shuffling about, shrugging on their cuirasses over their buff coats, buckling their helms over their heads, and clasping their pistol belts around their shoulders. Hayles’ cuirass had a touch more tooling than the others and a broad white sash worn over it to denote his rank, but otherwise he appeared very plain. Anya herself had continued to favour the dark-washed cavalry buff coat she had won earlier that week, wearing it over her usual Ranger leathers, so she could still pull her hood up. Even from a short distance, she would have blended in with the rest of them without trouble. She rode at Sylvanas’ side, when the others preferred to stay a length or two behind the Queen of the Forsaken. 

“Are we looking for something in particular?” Anya asked. Somewhere along the way, she had acquired herself a living horse, one of the deep-chested smoky chargers bred in the area. 

“The enemy,” said Sylvanas, her tone curt. She did not offer any more explanation. 

Sylvanas' skeletal horse was out of place among the flesh and blood beasts of burden ridden by the cavalry. That and her armour meant she stuck out like a sore thumb, but she was long past caring. The Ashvanes by now knew who they were up against. Or if they didn't, they were fools. 

Scarcely an hour later, and they were riding north along the road to Fallhaven. They would not hope to reach it today -- not when it was another three days trek from Barrowknoll -- but there was plenty of evidence of the Ashvanes' retreat. Not even the downpour over the last few days could hide it. She would have joined the scouting expeditions sooner, if not for the rain. Until finally she could not stand staying still another second, and taken Lucille's cavalry for her own. 

They stopped every now and then to read the landscape. Hayles at one point disputed Sylvanas' tracking, claiming that the Ashvanes had clearly gone west. In response, Sylvanas had glowered at him until he sighed and fell back in line. She was not about to discount a few centuries of experience tracking game and leading armies in favour of a man who, in her culture, would barely be considered old enough to wipe his own backside. They headed east at a fork in the road towards Carver's Harbour, until midday when Sylvanas pulled back on her reins. 

She frowned down at the tracks in the ground. "They doubled back south," she murmured, pointing. 

Hayles grunted in agreement. "Not all of them, though. Just a lightly armoured company, if that." 

"On horseback, no less." Sylvanas tugged at the reins so that her skeletal horse veered off in that direction. 

Hayles followed, kicking his horse forward to trot after hers. "If we're unlucky, we'll get caught on both sides." 

Sylvanas ignored him. She urged her horse to a canter, loping ahead of the rest so that she reached the treeline first. Behind her, she could hear Hayles cursing and the sound of him drawing his weapon. The cock of a pistol clicked, echoed by dozens of others as his cavalrymen followed suit. She did not bother drawing her own bow slung at her saddle beside the matching quiver. 

Her eyes scanned the woods. They were a far cry from the dense and foggy Crimson Forest, though they were nothing at all like the woods of her homeland either. The trees here wended across the gentle slope, their trunks moss-covered and sporting growths of white fungi. She guided her horse briskly through the trees. Her ears twitched at the faintest sound -- the rustle of tack, the snort of horses behind her, the creak of branches in a stiff breeze, the chattering of birdsong, the purl of a stream narrow enough to step over. And finally the faint strains of human voices. 

Lifting her fist into the air, Sylvanas pulled back sharply on the reins. Without turning, she made a gesture and then dismounted. Anya was by her side in an instant, arrow already nocked in her bow, eyes bright and alert. 

“Four hundred paces dead south,” Anya whispered in Common for Hayles’ benefit, as he crept up beside them on foot. 

Sylvanas turned to Hayles, keeping her own voice low. “Do you know the area?”

He nodded. “Aye. There’s a small ridge by a stream just up ahead. Barely a feature, but it’s something.”

All it took was a meaningful glance from Sylvanas, and Anya vanished through the trees like a wisp of smoke. Hayles blinked at her sudden absence, trying to get a good look after where she had gone.

“Wait here,” Sylvanas told him. “Keep the horses quiet. When I give the signal, you will approach with me on foot.”

“Begging your pardon, Warchief, but that kind of defeats the purpose of bringing cavalry in the first place,” he said. “We’re not dragoons.” 

“Which is why they chose to hide in the woods rather than risk skirmishing out in the open. Now, hold your tongue.” 

He huffed, but said nothing further. His troops dismounted and tied up their horses. They drew their sabres and stuffed extra pistols into the broad sashes tied around their breastplates. Rain drizzled from the pointed brims of their lobster-tailed helmets. On horseback, they were confident and easy-going, but on foot they appeared uncertain and ungainly. They would occasionally exchange puzzled looks and shift their grips upon their swords while they waited. 

The smell of smoke drifted through the air, though Sylvanas could not make out a fire through the thicket. The Ashvane scouts had obviously set up a small temporary camp further from their main body to feed back information. The lack of movement on the part of the Waycrest and Drust forces over the last few days would have puzzled them. 

Anya returned on utterly silent feet. She ghosted through the underbrush like a shadow, stopping when she reached their position. Her hands started relaying the information she had gathered using Ranger signs, until she realised Hayles and the others wouldn’t understand anything. Picking up a stick, she drew formations on the ground and held up five fingers, then four and five more. 

Sylvanas nodded in understanding. She pointed at Anya then at a few of the cavalrymen behind them. Anya inclined her head, then motioned for a group of five cavalrymen to follow her. When one of them stepped on a fallen log, his foot snapped through the wet and rotten wood with a noise loud enough to make the birds go quiet. 

Sylvanas closed her eyes as though praying, and grit her teeth. When she opened her eyes again, the cavalryman in question was being glared at by everyone in the platoon. One of his squad mates smacked him upside the head, so that his helm tilted down over his eyes. 

“You fucking moron,” someone hissed. 

Hayles shushed them, and they fell quiet again. The man carefully pulled his foot from the log, and the little group went off, following after Anya. Sylvanas gave them a head start, counting in her head until she was satisfied. Then, she gestured to Hayles and without looking back, she crept forward on silent feet. 

Her trained ears could hear the rustle of their own approach. The cavalrymen creeping along in her wake were accustomed to scouting by roaming broad countryside and hills atop their horses in easy formations. They were not used to this. Just ahead of them, Sylvanas prowled forward until she could see the peaked rise of tents over the underbrush, until she could hear individual conversation, the crackle of campfires, and the stamp of horses’ hooves. The horses were tethered on one side of the camp, their noses stuck in their feed bags. A few of them merely flicked their fuzzy ears upon seeing the approach of the Waycrest cavalry, but raised no alarm. 

Sylvanas raised her hand in a fist again and stopped. The men behind her hid behind the trunks of trees and in the thick underbrush, lying low on their bellies and squinting beneath the rims of their helms at what awaited them ahead. Peering carefully around the trunk of a tree, Sylvanas quickly counted men. Forty-five in the camp, according to Anya, who had counted rightly. Five more on the ridge. That was nearly fifteen more than they had brought themselves. Another glance around the tree trunk, and she spied Anya and the small group of cavalrymen in position at the ridge, waiting. 

Sylvanas caught Anya’s eye. They exchanged a brief nod, and then Anya struck. Quick as a bolt, she had a knife pressed against the throat of one of the sentries. The group of men with Anya burst forward as well, pistols raised, sabres at the ready. 

Straightening, Sylvanas stepped out from her hiding spot. “Gentlemen,” she said, lifting her voice, “how good it is to see you again.” 

A cry of alarm went up, and the men in the camp leapt to their feet. They tugged their weapons free, but their helms and cuirasses were still packed away. Their Captain drew his pistol and sabre, levelling the gun at Sylvanas. It was the same young Captain Ashvane that she had seen during her reconnoitre before the battle of Barrowknoll. His eyes were dark and sombre as he took in the situation -- the men with Sylvanas, the soldiers on the ridge with his sentries at knifepoint. Anya tightened her grip in the hair of the man she held steady when he tried to struggle, drawing a line of red at his exposed throat. 

Sylvanas spread her hands open to show she held no weapon, though Hayles stepped up to stand beside her, his expression grim beneath his heavy beard. “There needn’t be violence,” she said. “Cry ‘quarter’, and I will ensure you are well looked after.” 

Captain Ashvane grinned at her over the top of his flintlock. “Shame,” he said, cocking the weapon with his thumb. “I rather like a bit of violence with my afternoon tea. And you’ve come just in time, too.” 

“We have you surrounded, boy,” said Hayles, aiming down the sights of his pistol. “Best give up and come quiet now, yeah?”

Captain Ashvane swung his arm around so that his own pistol was now pointing at Hayles. “Not a chance, old man.” 

Hayles opened his mouth to speak, but the blast of a pistol snapped through the air. Captain Ashvane’s arm recoiled, the tip of his gun emitting a gout of smoke, and Hayles staggered back, grasping his shoulder. 

All hell broke loose. The Waycrest troops opened fire, and the air was filled with the crack of gunshot and shouts. Red-coated Ashvane scouts returned volleys, only for the two sides to toss aside their one-shot pistols and fall upon one another in a clash of swords. Hayles swore and fired his pistol at Captain Ashvane, but missed. The shot went wide, hitting a tree and scattering bark on the ground. On the ridge above, Anya had drawn her blade across the throat of the soldier she had been holding at knife point. His body was slumping to the ground as he gurgled and grasped at the tide of red spurting from his neck. She was already pulling back the string of her bow and firing arrows down into the camp. 

Captain Ashvane shoved his first pistol into the wide sash at his belt, and pulled out another. He aimed it at Hayles, whose eyes went wide. Moving quickly, Sylvanas shoved Hayles to the ground, and the shot narrowly missed. The Captain drew his sword and advanced upon her, arm raised, slashing down. She danced easily out of reach, moving away from Hayles so that the Captain would follow her instead. Foolishly, he did. He swung his sword in broad strokes, and Sylvanas avoided every blow with a calm assurance that only seemed to anger him. His face grew red. He pulled his lips back from his teeth in a silent snarl. 

When one of the other Ashvane soldiers tried to attack her as well, an arrow sprouted from his back. Sylvanas did not need to even look to know that Anya had shot it. Hayles switched his sword to his good hand, and was fighting a group of Ashvanes with his own men, rallying them together for something more elevated than a mere brawl.  

The Captain did not do the same. He was content to let his superior numbers do the talking for him, leaving him free to pursue Sylvanas, who continued to elude his slashes. He was no slouch with the blade. She could tell by the familiarity with which he handled his sword. A young nobleman trained in gentlemanly pursuits used to getting his way. When he drew too close, she grabbed his wrist and tightened her grip until she could hear the crunch of bone and tendons beneath her hand. 

The Captain cried out. He tried to kick her away, but she stepped aside so that his foot hit nothing. She did not let him go. Instead she twisted his arm expertly so that he was forced to drop the weapon or risk breaking his arm as she jammed his hand into the small of his own back. He was a tall man, and strongly built. But standing behind him, she planted her foot behind his knees so that he was forced onto the ground. 

“Call them off,” Sylvanas murmured into his ear, while he jerked futilely in her grasp. “Or I will make sure you never swing a sword in your life again.” 

He continued to struggle, grunting in pain when she pushed his arm a little further up. He grappled for purchase at her leg, but could do nothing to dislodge her. She leaned in closer to speak again, when she saw a flash of silver. With his free hand, he had pulled the knife from her boot and struck blindly at her over his shoulder. 

Reeling back, Sylvanas clutched at her face. She hissed, feeling the cut at her cheek, which bled black and sluggish. Captain Ashvane was scrambling to his feet. He rounded upon her, brandishing the hunting knife given to her by her mother when she had come of age. The same knife that had been used in the ritual to summon undead ghouls from the sacred Ardfert bogs not four days past. She could feel the anger boil in her lungs, frothing white-hot and wild, welling up in her throat until she was nigh drowning in it.

Captain Ashvane’s expression changed as he watched her. Smug certainty gave way to confusion and then to fear. He took a step back, holding the knife before him like an animal backed into a corner. Some of his men did not notice. All they saw was their commander continuing to fight and break free of the enemy. Several of them moved into position around her, swords raised, while Anya continued to fire into the fray. 

Shadows coiled at Sylvanas' feet, slowly gathering around her. Rage was a living thing in the crucible of her lungs, burning like liquid fire, clawing at the backs of her teeth. With a wordless snarl, her form flickered. In a blaze of black necrotic smoke, Sylvanas swept over the Ashvane men advancing upon her, over half a dozen including the Captain. The coils of shadow billowed outward, curling around them and swallowing them whole, until the air was filled with the sound of a shriek that tore itself from her mouth, drowning out all else. The note shivered high over the treetops, sending a startled flock of birds to flight. Everyone in the camp -- friend and foe alike -- clutching at their ears. Some fell to their knees. Others cried out in agony, blood dribbling from their noses, dripping from their open mouths, choking them until they could not make a noise. 

When the boiling black fog faded, Sylvanas stood in the centre of a group of dead Ashvanes crumpled along the ground. Their bodies were contorted into foetal positions, their skin grey and clinging to their bones as though the very essence of life had been drained from them. Sylvanas' shoulders and the tips of her fingers twitched. Her face was an uncanny mask, her eyes burning like red coals through the gloom. 

Those left untouched staggered weakly to their feet. The camp had gone eerily quiet, the absence of noise in the wake of the banshee scream almost as loud as the wail itself. They were all staring. Hayles' eyes were wide and uncertain, taking in the scene before him. His beard was wet and dark with blood. Even Anya watched warily from the ridge, waiting to see what would happen. 

Breathing out a long ragged sigh, Sylvanas straightened. It took effort to animate herself again as she usually did, as though her body had forgotten what it was like to pantomime life. When she turned her gaze upon a few of the Ashvane soldiers further away from her, they took a step backwards, gripping their weapons tightly to their chests. 

"Put those down," she said, and though her voice was soft, it still echoed with the vestiges of dark power that lingered in her chest like an unspoken threat.

Immediately they threw their weapons to the ground and raised their shaking hands. She turned her attention away from them, looking instead down at the dead body of Captain Ashvane. His fingers were still curled tightly around the hilt of her hunting knife. Reaching down, Sylvanas tugged it free. She took a moment to inspect the blade and clean it on his sash, before slipping it back into its hilt nestled away in her knee high boots. 

Hayles approached her slowly, his steps tentative, as though he were approaching a wild animal that might snap his arm clean off with one bite. "Your orders, ma'am?"

"Take them prisoner, and we'll drag them back to Barrowknoll for questioning."

"Pity about the Captain," he said, glancing down at the man's corpse. "He would've had the most information." 

Something in her expression must have changed, for Hayles went very pale and said hurriedly, "Not that it's a problem, mind. I'm sure the others'll have plenty to talk about when we bring them back to camp, ma'am."

Sylvanas tried to school her features into something resembling calm, but it was difficult when her muscles did not want to react normally. Her soul twitched in her body like a man wearing an ill-fitting suit of clothes. It would take her a few hours to get used to having skin again. So, she merely nodded sharply at Hayles, then turned and began walking back in the direction of their horses. The Waycrest cavalrymen parted before her, staring as she passed. She lengthened her stride and paid them no heed.

Anya was at her side in a moment, trailing after her like a faithful shadow. She looked concerned, but said nothing. Not until they reached the horses, at least. While Sylvanas hauled herself into the saddle, Anya remained standing by the skeletal horse's side. She gazed up at her Queen, as if waiting to receive instruction.

"What is it?" Sylvanas asked. 

"Do you need me to fetch you an Apothecary, my Queen?" 

Sylvanas considered the offer for a moment before shaking her head curtly. "No."

Anya did not quibble. She just clasped her hand over her heart and bowed low. Then, she strode towards her own horse and climbed into the saddle. When she tried to urge the living horse towards Sylvanas however, it shied from the prospect, turning in a wide circle rather than get too close. Sylvanas pretended to not notice. 

By the time they returned to Barrowknoll, it was nearing the evening. On their ride back with prisoners in tow, it had begun to rain. Suddenly Anya’s fixation on an oiled buff coat did not seem so foolish. Sylvanas’ cloak was not nearly as effective as combating the elements in Kul Tiras. It was slower returning to camp than leaving it. The prisoners were not allowed to ride their horses. Rather, their hands were bound and they walked behind the Waycrest cavalry. Their horses were tethered individually to the Waycrest horses; it wouldn’t do to leave them behind. Horses were expensive. One could always find work for them in an army. 

Their return earned a few appreciative murmurs. Waycrest and Drust soldiers gathered round and asked questions of their friends in the cavalry as they rode into Barrowknoll. Jeers and hard looks were aimed at the Ashvane prisoners, but they were otherwise left alone before they were carted off for questioning. Hayles was approached by a Waycrest infantry Captain when he dismounted. Sylvanas eyed him sidelong as he clapped the man on the shoulder and began to speak with him boisterously. 

As if sensing her gaze upon him, Hayles turned. He caught her eye, and to his credit he did not look away. In fact, swept his helm over his heart and inclined his head towards her respectfully. Fearfully, even. 

Rather than reply, Sylvanas slid smoothly from her own saddle. She strode off, giving Anya a sharp gesture to imply that she wanted to be left alone. Anya did as commanded without question, returning, presumably, to the cavalry unit she preferred to haunt for company these days. 

Sylvanas headed towards her own quarters in Barrowknoll -- a repaired house near the Church, which itself was being used as the new headquarters. She quickened her step when she drew near the Church, knowing full well that certain unwanted parties often lingered within. Before she could make it past however, a voice called after her. 

“I see you’ve returned victorious from your little hunting expedition.” 

Going still, Sylvanas glanced over her shoulder. Katherine was walking towards her from the Church. Planks had been erected in a webwork of pathways across the muddy ground. The end of Katherine’s cane knocked against wood with every other step. 

With one last longing look towards her own private quarters only a few paces away, Sylvanas turned to face the Lord Admiral. She tucked her hands behind her back in an officious pose, trying to seem natural even when she knew she appeared stiff. “I did,” she said. 

Katherine stopped before her, and folded her hands over the top of her cane, leaning her weight upon it. She was undeterred by the rain. “Did we learn anything new?”

“Not yet.” 

Katherine cast a critical eye over her. “You look more dead than usual. Did something happen?”

“Your concern is touching,” Sylvanas drawled. “But unnecessary. I am fine”

“Hmm.” Katherine pursed her lips. 

“Unless there is something else you wished to discuss, I shall -” 

Before Sylvanas could finish speaking and try to slip away however, Katherine interrupted. “There was, actually. How good of you to ask. I was wondering when we might all have a strategy meeting. Since you and the High Thornspeaker seem to be conveniently busy whenever I try to get you both in the same room these days.” 

It was true. Any time Katherine or Lucille would try to convene a meeting to discuss their next steps, Sylvanas would find an excuse to be elsewhere. It was at least gratifying to know that Jaina was doing the same. Though she doubted it was to avoid her. Most likely it was to avoid her mother. 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes. “These are busy times, Lord Admiral.” 

“Oh, spare me the bullshit, my dear. We all know what times these are.”

Sylvanas blinked. Not at the swearing -- Katherine was prone to cursing as fluently as any sailor worth their salt -- but at the endearment. Sylvanas had heard Katherine call people ‘my dear’ only when they crossed a certain unspoken threshold. For Tatanka it was with the first cup of tea. For Anya, after their first card game. For Arthur after exactly three seconds of conversation. For Sylvanas, apparently, it took nearly seven months and a victory on the battlefield. Some had more hoops to jump through than others, it seemed. 

"I want to know what the plan is," Katherine continued with a face like cold iron. 

"Since when was this my army?" Sylvanas sneered. "Last I looked, my people and I were just a resource for you to use."

Katherine scoffed. "Like you didn't want it that way. Still -" she shifted her weight so that she could tap her cane thoughtfully against the wooden planks beneath them. "I do wonder what the High Thornspeaker promised you to get you to deploy so many troops into Drustvar."

Sylvanas thought of the treaty in her personal quarters, stashed safely away, signed and sealed. Copies of it had been distributed to Jaina as well as to Durotar, so that no party could cry foul of the agreement. "That is between myself and the High Thornspeaker."

Katherine arched an eyebrow. "Not even a hint for an old woman?"

In reply, Sylvanas merely glowered. 

"You really think you can keep your arrangement a secret?" Katherine asked. "The truth will out eventually."

"Yes," Sylvanas said. "But not today." 

"I don't see why the secrecy in the first place."

It was so tempting. She could tell her so easily. Jaina's secret hung by a thread in Sylvanas' hands, ready to be severed with a single swipe of a sentence. There was little to gain by telling Katherine, but the pure spite of the deed was almost enough to sway her.

Almost. But not quite.

Finally, Sylvanas said, "I have died for secrets in the past, Lord Admiral. You’ll not suss them out of me with conversation alone.” 

There was a bullish squaring of Katherine’s jaw that followed. Sylvanas had seen it many times before on Jaina; the two shared more mannerisms than they likely knew. 

Sighing, Katherine said, “At least tell me what the plan is for the next week? What have you and the High Thornspeaker discussed?"

Sylvanas’ face darkened. In truth, she and Jaina had not exchanged a single word over the last few days. Every time Sylvanas so much as saw her, she began walking in the other direction. Thankfully Jaina never gave chase. "Ask her yourself,” Sylvanas said. 

"I tried. She refuses to talk to me.” This time when Katherine rapped her cane against the planks, it was annoyed. “I figured you would know, seeing as you're close allies, supposedly. Though I'm having second thoughts, now."

"Then ask Lady Waycrest," Sylvanas said. She turned away and continued striding towards her lodgings. 

"I wasn't aware I was marching alongside children,” Katherine called after her before she could take more than a few steps away. 

Stopping, Sylvanas glared over her shoulder. "I'm older than you."

"Physically, perhaps. But in other ways? Evidence suggests otherwise."

Taking a few steps after her, Katherine stopped and fixed Sylvanas in place with a look sharp enough to skin a hare. "If you ask me -"

"I'm not."

"If you ask me," Katherine repeated, undeterred. "This sounds like some petty row."

When Sylvanas did not answer, Katherine clucked her tongue in an admonishing sort of way and shook her head. "Dear me. Do I really need to encourage you and the High Thornspeaker to use your words? Sit down? Have an adult conversation?"

"The same way you used your words with your husband?" Sylvanas sneered. "Yes, I can see why you ended up widowed and childless."

Katherine went still. Her eyes were like chips of ice. "You mean to shock me, throw me off my tracks and derail the conversation. But I made my peace with myself years ago."

"Clearly."

"What's more interesting is that you would compare your relationship with the High Thornspeaker to mine with my late husband." Katherine sniffed delicately at the notion. "Well, if I'd known this was a lover's quarrel, then I wouldn't have intruded. What a messy business."

Sylvanas growled, "It's not. And we are not having this conversation."

"Might I suggest leaving what goes on in the bedroom out of our military affairs?"

Again, Sylvanas turned to leave. She had scarcely stomped a few steps away, when Katherine called after her, "Kindly pull your head out of your ass. Before we all die, preferably." 

When Sylvanas did not stop this time, Katherine raised her voice, "Do you really intend to let the Ashvanes take the initiative? For such a storied military leader, I honestly expected more from you."

Sylvanas froze with her hand gripping the handle of the front door. Her grasp tightened. She could feel the wrought iron handle crumple beneath her fingers like paper. Behind her, she could hear the intermittent thump of the cane against the sodden wood walkways until Katherine stopped just behind her.

"We cannot winter here," Katherine said firmly, yet softly enough that they would not be overheard. "You know it. I know it. Lucille knows it, but only because I told the poor girl. Does your High Thornspeaker know it?"

Without turning around, Sylvanas said, "She is not 'my' High Thornspeaker."

"I don't care what or who she is," said Katherine. "What I care about is winning. If I had to play go-between for the two of you, I would. But neither of you seem very inclined to speak with me, despite my best efforts. Now, if I can condescend to try and settle this debate or quarrel or what have you, then you can eat crow and talk to that Tides-forsaken druid for five minutes. I'll settle for three minutes, even. Enough for us to agree on a plan and execute it. Have I made myself clear?"

Unclenching her fingers made the iron door handle screech slightly. Pulling her hand away, Sylvanas straightened her shoulders. She rose to her full height and turned, her movements too smooth, too mechanical. Even with a slight stoop due to her leg, Katherine still stood a few fingers taller than her, but the implacable expression on Sylvanas' face made her brow furrow. Katherine leaned back slightly, her eyes suddenly wary. 

When Sylvanas spoke, her voice was quiet; it slithered like a dark echo. “I have no intention of losing. You will have your victory, Lord Admiral. Make no mistake. But do not presume to tell me how to handle my affairs, personal or otherwise.”

Katherine scowled, but this time she did not try to stop Sylvanas as she turned to tug the door open. Walking inside, Sylvanas shut the door behind her, hearing Katherine mutter to herself, "Damn high-handed elves."

Even in the cold damp reconstructed house, there was little peace and quiet. Nathanos was bowed over a table, arranging reports and maps and ledgers in preparation for her arrival. He straightened when she faced him. 

"Anya told me what happened," he said. "She also told me that you refused an Apothecary." 

"I don't need an Apothecary. Or a mother, for that matter. So, you can drop the act," she added snidely. Crossing the sparsely furnished room, Sylvanas rounded the table and sat behind it. "What I need is the latest news from the ships sailing to our position, and the movements of the Great Fleet. If the Zandalari ships don't manage to slip Lord Stormsong's noose, those reinforcements will never arrive, and we might as well abandon this for a lost cause."

"I wish you would," Nathanos replied. “I wish I could sway you to leave.” 

She had considered it. A few times over the course of the last few days, if she were being honest with herself. Leaving Kul Tiras would have been the more sensible approach. There was no use throwing good coin after bad, as her father had been so fond of saying. And knowing when to cut one's losses was a key trait in any military leader worth their salt. Still, the idea rankled.

It was about more than thwarting the Alliance, now. This was personal. And if there was one thing Sylvanas hated, it was losing. 

Sylvanas pulled the first report Nathanos had arranged for her on the desk. Her eyes skimmed over the lines, but every now and then she would glance at him over the top of the parchment. Despite her earlier rebuke, Nathanos hovered nearby. He seemed to have no intention of leaving her alone right now. Annoyance prickled at the back of her spine, but it was tempered by a grateful flicker of feeling as well. 

She did not often use her powers. It was never pleasant -- mostly for others, but for herself also. There were no days, no minutes where she could pretend she was anything than what she had become at the hands of the Lich King, but there were certainly times that were worse than others. An Apothecary could only do so much with their potions and poultices. Her body was a mere vessel for the spirit chained within. They could but settle her corpse, urge it to be soothed for a brief respite. She generally only submitted herself to their care for the sake of others rather than herself. The Forsaken -- her Rangers included -- felt better if they believed she was properly looked after. As though the thought of her distress or loss caused them pain of their own. 

It was the threat of her absence more than anything else. What it would do to them as a people and as a society were she to no longer be there to guide them at the helm. 

The thought rose unbidden in her mind, then. Jaina's offer. Being 'cured.' The possibility of it ached. How would they see her if she lived once more? What would they do? Would she abandon them? Would she stay? Would they even want her to? 

"Is there something wrong, my Queen?"

Sylvanas lowered the report back to the desk. Others found Nathanos difficult to read, but she had never found that to be the case. His careful veil of uncaring haughtiness was the most inhuman thing about him, but his actions were his ultimate tell. He would say one thing, and then do another. Spiteful words of ridicule in one hand, and selfless acts in the other. For the longest time, even back when they had been alive, he had thought she never noticed, but she was not one to reward skill alone. One had to have the proper disposition. 

Now, he hovered, and it was anxious despite his cool tone and his perpetual lofty sneer. 

Lifting her hand to her face, Sylvanas explored the cut on her cheek with her fingertips. She could withstand blows that would kill any living person, but her body did not heal normally, not like it once did. It would take time for the necromantic powers laden upon her spirit to knit this corporeal form back together. The process was slow. The flesh was weak, but the bond between body and spirit was weaker. She could get her Val’kyr to mend her, but she did not like wasting their powers for such trivial matters. 

Finally, she said, "Bring me an Apothecary, then. If it will soothe you, Nathanos."

"It is not I who needs treatment," he said, lying to himself. Sylvanas let him. He bowed and strode out of the house. 

With a sigh, Sylvanas leaned back in her seat and waited for him to return with an Apothecary in tow. Perhaps after letting herself be fussed over for an hour or two, she could get some actual work done. 

Nathanos returned not long later with an Apothecary at his heels and -- to her surprise -- a familiar raven on his shoulder. Now that Nathanos knew about Arthur, he was tolerated rather than actively despised. Arthur had taken to ruthlessly abusing this change in status, much to Nathanos' annoyance and Sylvanas' amusement. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"He saw me getting the Apothecary, and wanted to see how this worked," Nathanos explained, shutting the door behind them. "I told him that it was not my decision to make."

With a shrug, Sylvanas rose to her feet. "He can stay, if he wants." 

"Yes," Arthur whispered triumphantly under his breath.

Since discovering what he was, she had watched his interactions with the Forsaken in a new light. Suddenly his queries about their undeath made sense. She had initially thought them to be curiosity, or him digging up information for Jaina. And perhaps there was a bit of that, to be fair. But it certainly was not the whole picture. 

The Apothecary was a mass of heavy robes. Strapped to his chest and back were darkly lacquered boxes, filled with all manner of potions and reagents. His rotting face was hidden behind a deep cowl, but his eyes gleamed golden through the dim light like candles. He limped as he walked, and even with his hunched stature he was still taller than Nathanos. When Sylvanas turned her gaze upon him, he bowed low. 

"If it would please the Dark Lady," he said in a gravelly voice. 

"It would," she murmured. 

He shuffled closer and began to disassemble the boxes upon the desk. They folded out with clever hinges, revealing a labyrinth of compartments within. While he worked, Sylvanas walked around the desk to stand before him, waiting quietly with her hands clasped behind her back. 

Candles were lit as well as incense. Soon, the room was filled with the smell of chrism and rose oil. The Apothecary took his time. He swung a thurible by its chain, walking around her and murmuring in Gutterspeak. She stood still, allowing the ritual of the process with a bored kind of familiarity. The air grew thick with smoke. When various bowls and vials and candles had been arrayed just so, the Apothecary bowed before her once again. Without needing to be told what to do, Sylvanas lifted her arms somewhat to allow him to begin disrobing her. Every piece of armour and scrap of cloth above the waist was removed and placed aside, handled with care and reverence. He even waved the thurible over her pieces of armour, muttering more incantations. 

On the other side of the room, Nathanos had turned his back for this process. Arthur on the other hand, shuffled around on Nathanos' shoulder to keep watching. That was, until Nathanos plucked one his tail feathers in admonishment.

"Ow! Hey! What was that for?"

"Keep your eyes to yourself," Nathanos growled.

"You always were an awful prude, Nathanos," said Sylvanas, watching them with some amusement. "I do not care if he watches."

There was a bit of dark grumbling at that, but Nathanos said nothing more. He maintained his own discretion, keeping his back turned, while Arthur looked on curiously. 

When her torso was fully revealed, Arthur made a whistling noise. Nathanos appeared on the brink of strangling him, but Arthur only said, "Does that still hurt?"

Sylvanas did not need to look down; she knew what he was referring to. The Val'kyr could mend many things when they reconstructed her body, but the wound made by Frostmourne was not one of them. The gash slanted across her abdomen just beneath her ribs. Along her back, the exit wound was a mirror. It had been expertly sutured back together and packed with a variety of reagents that she did not care to know more about beyond the fact that they smelled of warm myrrh and smoky incense. 

Rather than answer, Sylvanas countered, "Do your old wounds still hurt?"

"No," Arthur said.

"Well, then. There you have it." 

It was not strictly true. Sometimes, she could still feel the cold presence of that cursed blade as though it were sliding between her organs anew, splitting against her lower ribs. Those times were mercifully rare, and usually only occured when she used too much of her powers or spent too much time out of her body in nothing but spirit form. As though returning to her body reminded it of the very concept of pain. Today was not such a day. 

She lowered her arms, and the Apothecary began to unstitch the wound. He went carefully yet expertly, snipping the sutures loose and tugging them free with a pair of pliers and scissors plated in silver. Arthur craned his feathery neck to watch, trying to gain a bit more height to peek over the Apothecary kneeling at Sylvanas' feet and treating her. 

"Are there more Undead among the Drust?" Sylvanas asked. 

"There are lots of them!" Arthur said. "But not like me, no. They're mostly ghouls or restless spirits. They don't remember who they are or anything." 

The Apothecary was repacking the old injury now. His hands pressed the cavernous wound full of reagents. She did not flinch or even glance down at what he was doing. Instead she continued speaking to Arthur, "Do you have a difficult time remembering things?"

Arthur shuffled his wings. "Sometimes, yeah."

Immediately Nathanos' head twitched. Though he did not look around or speak, Sylvanas could tell he was listening very intently to the conversation now. 

"Does Jaina tell you to do things, and you seem to wake up later, not able to remember the past few days?" Sylvanas asked.

Even the Apothecary paused in his ministrations. Sylvanas glanced down at him sharply, and he returned to his task, though he too was now eavesdropping. 

Meanwhile, Arthur cocked his head in bemusement. "No?" he said, sounding confused. "I've never had anything like that happen before. The first year or so after she raised me though, I struggled with basic things. Walking and talking and stuff. I got better at it. She was very helpful."

"How?" Sylvanas tried to keep her tone light, so that Arthur would not get suspicious of this line of questioning.

"You know. She would make potions for me, and braces for my legs, and stuff. But she never could help with the wounds or anything." Arthur blinked, his eyes pale blue and filmy. A corpse's eyes. "I don't think she's very good at necromancy, to be honest. I mean, she's good at a lot of magic, but every magic user prefers some things over others. Like, I can turn into animals all day, but I'm terrible at healing people." 

Sylvanas frowned. "But if she gives you a direct order, can you disobey her?"

An incredulous caw was Arthur's answer. It sounded like a laugh. "Oh, yeah! I disobey her all the time! Why?"

The tension drained from the room. Sylvanas, Nathanos, and the Apothecary all relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Sylvanas even let out a little sigh.

Bemused, Arthur looked between the three of them. "Is there something I'm missing here?"

But Sylvanas merely shook her head. "It's nothing. Nevermind." 

Arthur leaned down over Nathanos' shoulder, his tail feathers jutting up into the air for balance. "Have you ever raised anyone from the dead?" 

"I have," Sylvanas said truthfully. "Never without their permission. If you had been given the choice, would you have come back?"

For a long moment Arthur puzzled over that query. He shifted his weight back, and shuffled his tail. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe. It's not great, but I like it enough. And I didn't like dying. At all."

A surprised huff of laughter escaped Sylvanas then. Even Nathanos chuckled quietly. 

"No," Sylvanas mused with a faint smile, her killing blow on display. "No, I can’t say I did either." 

The rest of the procedure went forth without trouble. The Apothecary stitched her back up with a hooked needle and thread. He anointed her in oils like a god king, until she fairly gleamed. Death magic was woven heavy in the air, heavy on his fingers, as heavy as incense. By the time he worked his way to the more recent wound on her face, she already felt calmer, as though the Apothecary had sewn her soul more firmly into place. 

There was little more he could do about the cut on her cheek than stitch it together and seal it with fragrant chrism and a necrotic spell chanted from his lipless mouth, but it would help quicken the process along. 

The Apothecary helped her back into her clothes and armour, his bony fingers as deft with clasps and buttons as they were with a needle and thread. Soon she was shrugging her cloak around her shoulders, and allowing him to buckle her pauldrons into place as though he were dressing a high priest of the Light in sacred vestments of office. 

A knock came at the door. Sylvanas waved at Nathanos to answer it. When he did so, she could see a number of Forsaken soldiers clustered around outside. News of her minor scrape must have spread through the ranks like wildfire. She had to hold back a grimace. 

"Arthur," she called, gesturing for him to fly closer.

In an ungainly flap of wings, Arthur flew from Nathanos' shoulder and landed on the back of the chair behind the desk. "Yeah?"

"Change into your usual form."

After a moment's hesitation, he did so. There was a whirl of druidic magic, and he stood behind her chair looking curious but faintly uneasy by the way Sylvanas and the Apothecary were eyeing him up. When Sylvanas waved for him to approach her, Arthur rounded the table to stand before them, his pale gaze flicking between the two of them.

Tilting her head to one side, Sylvanas reached out and touched the rent flesh of his wrist. His clothes were scuffed and worn, but not in rags. They were a mark of a man who did not care for clothes, rather than a mark of neglect. His shirtsleeves had been rolled back above his elbow, revealing his hands and forearms, large portions of which had been peeled of flesh and muscle. 

"See what you can do for him," Sylvanas told the Apothecary. 

Without question, the Apothecary bowed to her, then gestured for Arthur to stand where Sylvanas had stood not moments ago. 

Arthur balked. “Oh - I don’t - I don’t know if -”

“Jaina’s speciality is not death magic. It is this man’s, however,” said Sylvanas firmly, indicating the Apothecary. “You will feel better after. I promise you.” 

Sheepish, Arthur allowed himself to be herded where the Apothecary wanted him to stand. He awkwardly held his arms out to the side, all while shooting Sylvanas a look that she could only describe as abashed.

Rolling her eyes, she turned away from him and walked towards the door. He was not so bold when it was himself being undressed in front of others. 

Humans, she thought to herself with a wry shake of her head. 

Nathanos was shutting the door once more when she reached him. “Did you tell them they could stop their worrying?” she asked.

“I did, though doubtlessly they will remain outside until they see you.”

She made a disgruntled noise.

“I also received word from Captain Hayles,” Nathanos continued. Lowering his voice, he said, “Apparently, one of the prisoners you brought back from your little scouting expedition has decided to talk.” 

Sylvanas’ ears canted up in surprise. “That was fast,” she murmured. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder back towards Arthur and the Apothecary, she said, “Do we know the High Thornspeaker’s current whereabouts?”

Arthur was not paying any attention to them. He was too busy pestering the Apothecary with rapid fire questions, which the Apothecary answered in a dusty wheezing voice. 

“The people I have assigned to watch her informed me that she vanished from camp sometime this morning,” said Nathanos. “Nobody has been able to ascertain her position since then. She has a habit of disappearing without a trace and reappearing again. I suspect portals and other translocation magics are at work, but none of the Forsaken mages I’ve designated can crack where she goes to so often.” 

Sylvanas hummed a contemplative note under her breath. “I have an inkling.” Tugging the hood of her cloak over her head, she said, “Stay here. Keep an eye on the camp while I’m away.”

Nathanos’ brows furrowed. “And where are you going?”

“Belore. You’re as bad as the others.”

“Incorrect,” he said with an affronted sniff. “I’m worse.” 

With a snort, Sylvanas reached past him to open the door. “I am going to speak with Hayles and the prisoner. And then I’m going to do something I will probably regret.”

He stepped aside to let her pass. “Which is?”

“I’m going to find the High Thornspeaker, and have a conversation.” 

  The fang was heavy in Sylvanas' hand. She weighed it in her palm, considering her next actions very carefully. Then she lifted the token by its string and said, "Take me to Jaina, please." She growled out the last word like it was a penance. 

That feeling hooked behind her gut as though latching onto her spine and pulled. In an instant blur of colour and darkness, she appeared at the entrance to Jaina's cabin. The fog had returned. A chill nipped the air. A shallow shower of snow dusted the grounds. On one side the cliffs were shrouded in white, and on the other the dark vastness of the trees seemed to vanish into the mist like the long march of time itself. As though this place were caught in a stasis, torn between the woods and the sea. 

Sylvanas tucked the fang back into her belt pouch. She stood before the front door, which had been hung with a wreath woven from blackthorn branches. The berries were dark and clustered along the wreath. Whether it was purely decorative or served some greater magical purpose, she did not know. She used studying it as an excuse to not knock on the door. Eventually, steeling herself, Sylvanas reached out a hand and rapped her knuckles against the door. 

There was no sound from within. Brows knitting together, Sylvanas leaned to one side in order to peer through one of the windows, but the glass was misted from the chill outside. It was impossible to see anything but the indistinct shape of furniture within. 

She knocked again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

Rocking back on her heels, Sylvanas tongued at the back of her teeth contemplatively. She had been so sure that Jaina would be here. Or perhaps she was, and she knew it was Sylvanas outside. Perhaps they were both avoiding each other. 

She was reaching for the door handle, when she heard a voice behind her.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Jaina said. 

Sylvanas whirled around. It wasn't everyday someone could sneak up on her. The only people who could consistently pull it off were her Rangers. And, apparently, Jaina. It was so reminiscent of their first meeting, that Sylvanas narrowed her eyes warily. 

Jaina stood behind her, wrapped in a robe. A towel was slung over her shoulder. Her feet were bare. Her hair had been undone from its usual braid so that it hung, wet, over her shoulders. It was a rare occasion to see Jaina with her scars on full display, the neckline of her robes a low-draped décolletage revealing the rope burns at her neck and the hint of a sword wound over her heart. She faintly steamed in the cool air, as though she had just stepped from a pool of hot water.

Which was, Sylvanas realised, exactly what she had done.

"I have the house warded," Jaina explained. "If you try to force your way inside...well, it's not very nice. Let's just leave it at that."

Sylvanas raised her eyebrows. "Noted." 

They looked at one another for a long moment, until Jaina cleared her throat and stepped past her. "I suppose you'll want to come inside. Unless you really were hoping to rifle through my things without my being here."

"I wanted to talk," Sylvanas said. 

"Now, I'm really worried," said Jaina dryly. 

There was a rusted old lock on the door, but Jaina used no key. She did not need to unlock the door. It opened at her touch without any trouble. Sylvanas wondered if she even locked it conventionally at all.

Jaina did not wait for her guest to follow after her; she simply stepped inside and left the door open behind her. Sylvanas removed her shoes, but hesitated to leave her weapons behind. Eventually however, she balanced the bow and quiver and knife against the outer wall of the cabin, and walked inside. 

The door shut itself softly behind her as though a draught had caught the edge. Jaina was standing before the fireplace. When Sylvanas had peered inside, there had been no light emanating from within. Now, a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Jaina stood with her back to the flames and toweled her hair dry. 

The skull mask glowered at Sylvanas from its customary spot hanging on the wall. This time, the scythe-like staff was leaning against it. The runes carved into them glowed stronger when she drew near. Sylvanas moved past them both, entering further into the cabin. She made no motion to make herself comfortable. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back as though awaiting an infantry inspection on parade. 

Jaina pulled the towel down, her hair a mess until she began raking her fingers through it. "You're very quiet for someone who came all this way to talk to me," she said. 

From this angle, the fire lit Jaina from behind so that she seemed gilded. The soft fabric of her robe was brighter at the edges, more saturated, so that her body beneath was but a silhouette. 

Tearing her gaze away, Sylvanas wandered over to the table strewn with books and scrolls and various maps. She dragged her fingertips along the ragged edge of a vellum map. “I’m sure you will have already heard that I took Captain Hayles and a few of his men for a reconnoitre this morning.”

“I did,” said Jaina. Her footsteps were soft as she crossed the room and joined Sylvanas, careful to keep the table between them.

“We caught a few prisoners. Fortunately for us, one of them decided to cooperate.”

That got Jaina’s attention. She draped the towel back over her shoulder, and asked, “And what did they say?”

“There is a feature just to the northeast of Fallhaven,” Sylvanas said. “They call it Watermill Hill.”

“I am familiar with it, yes.”

“The Ashvanes have orders to take it from the defenders, and use it as a fort to bombard the city.”  

Jaina fell silent. Her eyes dropped to the table, and she began digging up a more detailed map of Fallhaven and its surrounding countryside. She pulled out her ledgers, placing them atop the map and scowling down at the both of them. 

Finally she said softly yet vehemently, “Shit.” 

Sylvanas hummed in agreement. 

Sighing, Jaina sank down into a chair. She rubbed at her eyes, scratching at the scar on one side of her face. “I had hoped to gain control over the peninsula by taking Carver’s Harbour from the Ashvanes.” 

“It is far too late for that, now.” Reaching over, Sylvanas tapped at a section of the map between Fallhaven and Carver’s Harbour. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t make life difficult for them in the meantime. We just need to take the initiative.” 

Jaina nodded. She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. “So, we march for Fallhaven, and hope we can arrive in time to reinforce Watermill Hill. Otherwise we’ll have to take it back before they can blast through the eastern walls with artillery and create a practicable breach.” 

“And then we winter at Watermill, and harass their position at Carver’s Harbour until they wished they had never set foot in Drustvar.” 

“It’s a good plan,” Jaina admitted. “Though somewhat predictable, given the present company. I understand guerilla tactics are a favourite of yours.” 

Sylvanas gave a dismissive little wave of her hand. “We all cling to our little foibles. Mine happen to involve a penchant for shock and hit-and-run doctrine.” 

Jaina smiled, but it was a fleeting thing. Her face looked raw and recently scrubbed. She held Sylvanas’ gaze and said, “You smell like death.”

“Don’t I always?” Sylvanas drawled.

“No,” said Jaina. “Not like this. What happened?” 

Sylvanas tried to make her shrug nonchalant. “I got a little carried away during the scouting expedition.” 

Jaina looked at the cut on Sylvanas’ cheek and murmured, “I see.”

"To add insult to injury, your mother cornered me upon my return."

"Oh?" Jaina's tone was light, but she would suddenly not meet Sylvanas' eye. She fiddled with the ends of the towel slung over her shoulder, picking at stray threads, her actions uneasy, faintly apprehensive.

"She wants to call a meeting to discuss our strategy moving forward."

"Good thing we have one now, then," Jaina said, gesturing to the map of Fallhaven. 

Sylvanas caught Jaina's eye and said, "I don't think that was all she meant."

In reply, Jaina swallowed thickly. The apprehension was more than faint now. She gripped the end of the towel tightly in one fist until her knuckles were white. A flicker of fear and uncertainty flashed across her features. She did not say anything.

"The truth will out," Sylvanas said. "That was what she told me. And she's right. This war will end, and our agreement will come to light. You cannot hide forever."

Inhaling deeply, Jaina lowered her hands to her sides and said, "I know." She chewed at her lower lip for a moment before asking, "What happened with you?" 

Sylvanas frowned in quiet puzzlement.

"When you -- you know -" Jaina made a strange motion with one hand. "When you saw your family again after you had died? How did they react when they saw you like this?"

The map was suddenly incredibly interesting. Sylvanas traced circles around Watermill Hill and its surroundings, wishing beyond all else that they could return to topics of war and strategy and killing, things she was infinitely more comfortable discussing. Not this. 

"My younger sister, Vereesa, was the first to see me,” she finally said, her tone blank and matter-of-fact. “It was awful."

"What happened?"

"She hugged me," said Sylvanas.

Jaina laughed, until she realised very quickly that Sylvanas was not laughing at all.

If she thought too long and too hard, she could still feel Vereesa’s arms around her, crushing her with a warmth that scorched. It hurt to touch her. To be reminded of the heat of life she could never again share. To want to be the person her little sister remembered and idolised -- a yearning so strong it tore her up inside until she thought she could feel a blade piercing her ribs.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Sylvanas said before she could sink too deeply into that melancholic memory.

“Please,” Jaina said, sounding relieved, almost eager for any scrap of advice in this surreal situation.

Sylvanas glanced up at her sharply, and her eyes burned crimson. “Don’t wait too long. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”

A little huff escaped Jaina at that. “I think we’re well beyond that, now. She’s thought I’ve been dead for years. Since before she even became Lord Admiral. I’m sure she’s made her peace by now.”

“She hasn’t. She told me she had, but she is lying.” Sylvanas ran her hands along the back of a chair tucked beneath the desk, her thumbs counting the rings of polished wood grain. “Grief is reaching out in love and finding nothing, and then filling it with something, anything to make that void a little less yawning, a little more manageable. The longer you wait, the more disruptive your return will be.”

Firelight played faintly about the strands of Jaina’s hair. She engoldened in the dim glow. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment of silence. “For assuming what you wanted. It's just that back in Ardfert bog, I thought -”

Sylvanas shook her head curtly. “No. Stop.” 

“Sylvanas -” 

When Jaina tried to round the table, to draw closer, Sylvanas slipped further away. She used the table as an obstacle to keep them apart. “I am not here to accept your offer. And I never will.”

Jaina did not try to pursue her further. She stopped, her hands coming to rest on the desk between them, just lightly touching a space between a stack of worn, well-read books. “I still don’t understand,” Jaina said slowly. “But only because given the choice, I would leap at the chance.”

The cabin was warming up, the fire lapping at the hearth and filling the space with a pervasive roiling heat. Sylvanas wished nothing of warmth. Not now. It was too close to body temperature, and she could feel her own skin begin to react to the heat, to drink it in and hold it fast as though hungry for it. “It is not just about what I want. I have an obligation,” she said, and the words felt as though they were being scraped from her throat. “To more than just myself. I cannot be selfish. I will not be.” 

That was how it always had been. Self-sacrifice above all else. Living for others and not herself. Wishing she could be selfish, but knowing she could never do so; she would hate herself if she did. And she did not need any more reason to hate herself. Especially now.

“If there is one thing you are allowed to be selfish about, it is your own life,” Jaina said, her words chosen with care and precision.

But Sylvanas was already shaking her head, even as Jaina was speaking. “Not mine. And not yours. Not anymore. We are more than people. We are symbols and titles.”

A scowl crossed Jaina’s face, though not one of anger. “Do you allow yourself nothing?”

“You are new to your position. Relatively speaking,” Sylvanas added when Jaina opened her mouth to protest. “There is a balance you must find between personal wants and public needs. I found it long ago when Quel’Thalas demanded a military leader of my family. It is easy for you now. You want to save Drustvar. You want what is best for you people. But there will come a time, when you will do things that go against your better conscience not because you want to, but because you must.” 

“And you believe you must remain dead?” Jaina asked incredulously.

Sylvanas’ answer came without err or hesitation. “Yes.” 

With a sigh, Jaina shook her head. Again, she raked a hand through her hair, which by now had begun to dry somewhat. 

“Your relationship with your mother is a prime example,” Sylvanas began, watching her reaction. “You don’t want to reveal yourself to her, but you know you have to eventually.” 

Jaina chewed at her lower lip again. Her brows knit. Finally she relented with a nod. “Yes. I know.” 

“It is easier if you think of yourself as two different people.” Sylvanas lifted her hands, palms facing up as though weighing objects between them. “The future Lord Admiral, and Jaina Proudmoore.”

A bitter smile twisted Jaina’s lips. “It seems you need more hands, if we’re going to talk about your personae,” she said with a nod towards her. 

Sylvanas lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When you live as long as elves do, you might need more than two, as well.”

“I will.”

At that, Sylvanas blinked. She looked at Jaina for clarification. 

“Druids live as long as elves do. Even human ones,” Jaina said. Then she grinned, amused by Sylvanas’ confusion. “It’s a perk.” 

“And here I thought the Kul Tiran nobility would be clamouring for you to conceive an Heir the moment you became Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas drawled. 

“Oh, they probably will anyway. But they’re going to be very annoyed when they find out that I’ll outlive them by a good few centuries at least.” 

“I can hear the cries of outrage from Boralus already.” 

Jaina’s grin widened, then softened. Her fingers played with the cloth belt holding her bathrobe together. “I have to say, this certainly has been a surprise.”

Sylvanas cocked her head to one side.

In answer, Jaina gestured between the two of them. “I thought this conversation was going to be far more unpleasant.”

"I can make it unpleasant, if you would prefer."

Jaina made a face. "Please, no. I thought we were doing so well."

When Sylvanas smiled, it did not reach her eyes. Her fangs glinted in the firelight. "Make no mistake. I am still very angry." Her gaze seared crimson.

Jaina made a noise at the back of her throat, something between a hum and a grunt. "I can see that. I don't suppose there's anything I can do?"

"More concessions when you become Lord Admiral wouldn't go unappreciated."

Rolling her eyes, Jaina said, "Anything that doesn't involve me whoring out my nation?"

Sylvanas tapped at her chin, pretending to think deeply on the subject. Finally she said, "No. Nothing."

With a snort of wry amusement, Jaina said, "Well, do let me know if that changes." 

"I will keep it in mind." A keen expression crossed Sylvanas' face. "I never forget when I am owed a favour." 

"Now, that is just ominous." 

"Good. It was supposed to be." 

The fire crackled in the hearth. Outside, the sky had fallen dark as night swept across the land. Glancing through a window, Jaina sighed. "I suppose I ought to make myself presentable and face the firing squad."

"I very much doubt your mother will draw a pistol on you, though I will admit that she is a difficult woman to read." 

"That's an understatement," Jaina muttered under her breath. She had begun to pick her way up the stairs, manoeuvring through the stacks of books haphazardly arranged along the steps. 

When she reached the mezzanine, she dropped the towel onto the bed and untied the belt of her robe. Sylvanas pulled the maps closer to herself to study them while she waited, but her eyes would stray up to where Jaina was getting dressed. There wasn't much to see through the pillars of the balustrade and the piles of books. Glimpses of skin and cloth here and there as Jaina pulled on a fresh set of formal robes. There was an exit scar on her back, where Gorak Tul had struck her through with a sword, right between her shoulder blade and her spine. 

A few minutes later, Jaina descended the steps, still tying the laces of fabric at her throat to hide the scars of her neck. Her cloak was draped across the back of the couch, and she shrugged it over her shoulders. The fabric rustled like the wind through dense branches. Sylvanas had long since given up the pretense of pouring over the maps, and stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Are you ready?" 

Jaina fiddled with her loose hair for a moment, as though contemplating taking the time to braid it. Eventually though she nodded. "Yes. Let's go." 

When they reached the door however, Jaina stopped. Her hand had immediately grabbed up the sickle staff, but she hesitated at the mask. Sylvanas waited patiently a step behind for Jaina to make up her mind. 

"No," Jaina said softly to herself, turning away from the mask. Before she could take another step towards the door though, she turned back to the mask. "Or...? Well...? Hmm." She grabbed the mask. "Yes." Then almost immediately she put the mask back on its hook. "What am I thinking? No."

Sylvanas sighed. "You are worse than a cat at the door."

"All right, yes." Jaina snatched up the mask, spurred into action, and pulled the door open. Once outside she placed the antlered skull over her head, and her shoulders relaxed somewhat, as though the idea of extra layer of protection was soothing. 

Sylvanas followed, closing the door behind them. She took a moment to pull on her boots and greaves. Once she had slung her bow over her shoulders, she pulled the fang from her belt pouch, but Jaina just held out her hand instead. 

"I'll take us back," she said, hand outstretched, waiting. 

Slowly, Sylvanas tucked the token away, and reached out for Jaina's hand. Jaina clasped their fingers together. Her skin was warm and calloused. Sylvanas could feel it even through the supple leather of her gloves. 

The dark sockets of the skull's eyes glowed with pinpricks of light, and Sylvanas tensed. Jaina tightened her hold, as if she were afraid Sylvanas would wrench her hand away while the spell was still taking form. And then that familiar hook-like sensation gripped at Sylvanas' stomach and gave a mighty tug. When the world righted itself again, they were standing on the second floor rafters of the church at Barrowknoll. 

The roof had been reconstructed with rough-hewn lumber. Stacks of bricks and munitions were piled up all around. The space was dimly lit from candles scattered around the main floor below them, and the sound of voices floated up the nearby set of stairs. 

"Tides help me, if you don't tell me this instant, Lucille Waycrest -!"

"I don't know anything! You must believe me, Katherine. If the Warchief or the High Thornspeaker had said something to me, they would have said it to you as well. I swear it."

"You’re hiding something. You all are. Oh, don't give me that doe-eyed look! You always were a terrible liar."

"I told you, I don’t know anything!" 

"You know I was there at your birth? Your mother held my hand. Nearly squeezed it right off, if you ask me. That woman had a death grip like no other."

"Yes," Lucille sighed wearily. "I know." 

"And when Meredith fell to the Coven? Who was the first to offer you aid?"

Lucille mumbled something under her breath.

"Speak up, my dear." 

"I said: You were."

"That's right. I was. And when those fools at Corlain attempted to burn you at the stake for some far-fetched witchcraft conspiracy, who got wind of it and rallied the Marshal for a rescue attempt?" 

"You did."

"And yet you have the nerve -- the absolute gall -- to look me in the face right now, and lie to me." There was the sound of boot steps, and the faint clack of a cane against wooden floorboards. When Katherine spoke again, her voice was low but not at all soft. "I had thought I could rely upon you, the last of my family, distant though you are. But I see I am cursed to live a life of disappointment, through and through." 

“That’s not fair,” Lucille sounded like she was choking on the words, or trying to hold back a wave of tears. “You know I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. 

"You have a very poor way of showing it." 

"What am I supposed to do? Perform every action of my life as though I'm grovelling at your feet just to show how thankful I am?"

"Of course, not. You're being ridiculous."

"Don't say that! Don't you say that to me! You know I can't stand that, Kath!"

"Don't you 'Kath' me, young lady!"

As they eavesdropped, Jaina was gripping Sylvanas' hand hard enough that her fingers trembled. Sylvanas stole a quick glance at her. It was impossible to see what her expression was beneath the mask, but her back was too straight, her shoulders too rigid. 

Sylvanas squeezed her hand back, and Jaina's head jerked towards her in surprise, as though she had only just remembered that Sylvanas was present at all. But it was only to get her attention, for Sylvanas jerked her head meaningfully at the stairs, and gave Jaina a pointed look. She could hear a faint indrawn breath beneath that mask, and then Jaina let go of her hand. 

At the first creak of the floorboards beneath Jaina's feet, the two voices went silent downstairs. Sylvanas followed as Jaina descended the stairs, her own footsteps silent as a whisper. 

Lucille and Katherine were standing very close together before the large rectangular altar that had been converted into a planning table. Scrolls and scraps of notes, missives and ledgers and stacks of maps were strewn across the altar. The papers were weighed down with bits of brick and bronze lamps. Both of them appeared startled at the interruption and the idea that their conversation was being listened to. Katherine recovered more quickly, grasping the falcon head of her cane in both hands and schooling her features to their usual hard neutrality. On the other hand, Lucille’s lower lip trembled. Despite that, her gaze was sloe-eyed and unyielding. 

"Forgive the interruption," Jaina said, her voice cold beneath the horned skull. "But I thought I should step in." 

Lucille jerked her chin up and said steadily. "It's fine. We just got a bit sidetracked from a strategy discussion." 

Jaina hummed. She approached the altar, her hand reaching out to rest upon the stone surface. "Sylvanas has informed me of new developments that we all need to discuss." 

Hearing this, Katherine shot Sylvanas a look that could only be described as startled, though she tried to hide it. In return Sylvanas gave away nothing. She did not draw nearer the altar, keeping her distance, watching Jaina, waiting for what she would do. 

"I'm glad to hear you two are talking again," Katherine said carefully. Then she turned her attention upon the altar, waving Lucille and Sylvanas over to join them. "Shall we -?"

"No, not yet," Jaina said, cutting her off. Her voice was determined, but there was the barest hint of shakiness lingering beneath the surface. "You were right. There was something Lucille was keeping from you. And I think -- for all our sakes -- we ought to clear the air."

Lucille's eyes widened. She gave Jaina a panicked look. 

Jaina gave no indication that she noticed. Slowly, her hands reached up and clasped the base of the skull mask, lifting it away to reveal her face. Katherine was watching her with a bemused frown, which only deepened when Jaina set the mask atop the altar. Opening her mouth to speak, Katherine paused. She blinked. Then she went white a sheet, and her jaw slackened as the realisation visibly dawned on her. 

Katherine shook her head. “No, that’s - that’s not possible,” she breathed. “You died. They’d told me you died.”

“Yes,” Jaina said. Her hands were gripped into tight fists at her side. She held herself as though expecting to be struck.

From this angle Sylvanas could not see Jaina’s expression, but she could see Katherine's with all too much clarity. Something raw and painful shifted across Katherine’s pale face. Anger and anguish, disbelief and dread. Her hand tightened around the cane. She rapped the end of it against the ground, her jaw tight but her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I planted a sword in the grave for you,” she rasped. “And yet here you are.” 

“Here I am,” Jaina echoed.

“If this is some trick, I swear to all that’s good, I’ll -” Katherine cut herself off with a rough swallow, breathing in heavily through her nose. 

“I’m real.” 

Katherine opened her mouth to say something, but words seemed to escape her. Hesitant, she reached out with one hand, but Jaina’s shoulders stiffened, and Katherine lowered her arm before she could touch her daughter. She had to muster up the ability to speak again. “You’ve grown very tall,” she said, a weak smile trying but failing to take shape. Her eyes flicked to Lucille and Sylvanas, and then her face hardened, her voice gaining strength. “How long have they known?”

Lucille looked like she would rather die on the spot than answer that question. Sylvanas herself kept her mouth firmly shut, letting Jaina answer. “Long enough.” 

Pain twisted Katherine’s features. “And you didn’t tell me? Why?” 

“Are you really asking me that? After what you did?” 

Katherine drew herself up to her full height, but the top of her head barely passed Jaina’s chin. “I did not want to, but I had to,” she said. “Everything I did, I did to safeguard Kul Tiras. I will not apologise for that.”

“Letting Tandred hang was all part of your plan to ‘safeguard Kul Tiras’?” Jaina asked incredulously.

“You were too young to understand,” Katherine snapped. “The political situation at the time was volatile. I did everything I could to change Daelin’s mind, to find some work around, to exile Tandred instead, but he would have none of it. And the gentry were baying for blood after the orcs had killed so many during the First and Second Wars.” 

Jaina scoffed. “Oh, great. So, dad wasn’t just a power-mad bastard. It was all because of politics. I see now why I should have come back to Boralus the moment he died. How foolish of me!”

Katherine’s face was quickly regaining its colour again. The two of them were locked in a glaring contest, tempers rising, mingling with grief and years of bitterness. They continued speaking as though they had completely forgotten anyone else was in the room. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Katherine said hotly.

“Then what did you mean? Enlighten me.”

“You should have told me! Have you never heard of a letter? ‘Dearest mum, I am alive. Love - Your daughter, Jaina.’”

“You’re unbelievable! You -!” 

As silently as she could, Sylvanas crossed the room and murmured to Lucille, “Come. Let us leave them be.”

Lucille nodded without hesitation, and the two of them slipped away. Neither Jaina nor Katherine seemed to notice. 

“I could have protected you!’

“Oh, yes, because you’ve done such a good job of that in the past!” 

“How dare you! I am the reason why you survived at all!”

“You don’t know anything about what’s happened for me to survive! Or have you already forgotten? You threw me away!”

“I did no such thing!”

Sylvanas shut the side door to the church behind her, so that the sounds of their voices were muted. Outside, the night was dark and drizzly. Most of the soldiers were camped in the fields just to the north, but some still wandered the town performing their duties. Sylvanas kept her hand firmly on the latch of the door as though afraid it might burst open at any second, while Lucille leaned against the outer wall with a ragged exhalation, staying beneath the shelter of the eaves. 

Sylvanas studied her profile, then said, “You did well. I thought you would crack immediately under questioning.” 

A soft shaky laugh escaped Lucille at that. “Thanks,” she said with a self-deprecating smile. She glanced towards the door. “Should we wait here? How long do you think they’ll be?”

Sylvanas’ only answer was a shrug. “They will take as long as they take.” 

“Then they’ll be a while. ‘Stubborn as a Proudmoore’ they say in Tiragarde Sound.” Lucille ran a hand across her brow. She pushed herself away from the wall and said, “Would you like to join me for a drink? I desperately need one.”

“I don’t drink. And alcohol is wasted on me. It does nothing.” 

“Right. Of course. My apologies.”

One of Sylvanas’ ears tilted towards the door, hearing the rising volume of the voices within. She grimaced. “On second thought, I will join you.”  

“Thank the Tides,” Lucille sighed, already gathering up her long hems so that they would not trail in the mud. 

Sylvanas followed Lucille out into the rain, the two of them making a dash towards a nearby reconstructed house. She may not be able to enjoy a drink, but it was a better proposition than staying put; she had had enough eavesdropping for one night.

  Lucille had nearly finished what remained of the flask of whiskey she kept hidden in the drawer of her work desk, and Jaina and Katherine still had not emerged from the church to the Tides. Sylvanas sat in a chair beside the fire, while Lucille nursed a glass. Conversation was halting at first, but eventually Lucille's tongue was loosened by drink. Sylvanas took the opportunity to suss out any additional helpful information about Jaina and Katherine. Most of it she already knew. Some of it however, she did not.

"I wanted to go to Jaina's burial in Boralus, but my mother forbade it," Lucille said. She had draped a blanket over her legs to ward off the cold, and her chair had been pushed nearer the fire. 

"Why would she do that?" Sylvanas asked.

Lucille sipped at the amber spirits in her glass. "In hindsight, I think it was because she had already well fallen under the influence of Gorak Tul. But it wasn't just that. There really was bad blood between the Houses back then."

"Unlike now, where you all get along swimmingly," Sylvanas drawled.

Lucille snorted a laugh into her cup. "I didn't think you would actually have a sense of humour, you know. It's kind of nice."

"I'm a woman of hidden depths." Sylvanas waved for Lucille to continue. "Now, you were saying about the Houses?"

"Yes. Well. Katherine was right back in the church, really. Terrible business, the First and Second Wars. There aren't many people in Kul Tiras to begin with. Then nearly a quarter of the entire population died fighting the orcs. We are still recovering as a society. I don't know if we ever will. Not really." Lucille cradled the glass of whiskey between her hands as though praying that it would warm her. "Derek Proudmoore, Jaina's eldest brother, was one of the people to fall. Daelin and Katherine were crushed. But he wasn't the only one. Lady Ashvane's Heir died. Her husband, too. And some of Lord Stormsong's family. Everyone was affected. Then Tandred goes off and helps those shipwrecked orcs? I know he was being kind -- he was a kind soul, if a bit of an ass at times -- but it was a scandal. Everyone wanted him to hang. My mother included. The Proudmoores nearly lost the Admiralty over it. There was talk of overthrowing them back then. My mother said theirs was a whole line of traitors. That they weren't to be trusted. And there were plenty of people who shared that sentiment. An example needed to be made."

Sylvanas hummed. "A sacrificial lamb led to the altar to appease the masses."

Tipping her glass towards Sylvanas as though in a toast, Lucille said, "Exactly that."

"Which doesn't exactly bode well for me."

"Oh, definitely not," Lucille said. Alcohol made her earnest and far too honest. "I think it would be a disaster, personally."

Sylvanas gave her a dangerous look. "How reassuring," she said in a silky warning tone.

Usually Lucille got the hint, but not when she was four glasses deep and reaching for the flask to pour herself a fifth. "The only thing that might salvage the relationship is the fact that you're not an orc. Kul Tirans tend to be a bit -- uhm -- how do I put it nicely -?"

"’Negatively predisposed towards those of orcish descent?’" Sylvanas supplied dryly.

“That works, yes.” 

“And what does this have to do with Jaina’s burial, exactly?”

“Well -” Lucille expertly balanced the glass on her knee while she screwed the top back onto the flask. For a moment Sylvanas thought the glass was going to crash to the floor, but Lucille was apparently as Kul Tiran as any, for she snatched up the glass without fail or fumble. “There wasn’t a body, obviously, but Katherine wanted a funeral anyway.”

“People often do.”

“Anyway, it was a big public event. The Lord Admiral couldn’t keep it secret that she no longer had an Heir. Before that, she’d told everyone that Jaina was living with us in seclusion at Waycrest Manor.”

“Ah,” said Sylvanas. She leaned back in her seat and crossed an ankle over her opposite knee. “Yes. I see where this is going.” 

Making an affirmative noise into her glass, Lucille finished her sip of whiskey and continued. “When my mother refused to let any member of House Waycrest attend, it was a public indictment in all but name. A show that the Lord Admiral’s power was slipping in Drustvar. And to top it all off, my dear mother was already neck-deep in her dabblings with Gorak Tul and the Coven, so of course she wanted the Lord Admiral out of her business, so she could take over Drustvar without any hassle. It was a damn mess.”

Sylvanas tilted her head to one side. “And what do you want for Drustvar?”

“Me?” Lucille blinked, as though surprised at being asked that question at all. 

“Yes, you. You are Lady Waycrest, are you not?” 

Turning her gaze to the fireplace, Lucille stared into the flickering hearth. “I want a Drustvar free from corruption and at peace with itself. I want to clear the smirch on my family’s name. And I want to follow a Lord Admiral who has a clear vision for Kul Tiras.”

“And you think Jaina will give you those things?”

“I do,” Lucille said with real conviction. 

“Even if it means aligning yourself with people like me?” Sylvanas gestured to herself. 

Lucille’s mouth opened, but before she could answer the front door swung open hard enough that it hit the wall and bounced back. Jaina stormed into the house, skull mask beneath one arm. Rain was caught in her cloak and her loose hair, droplets gleaming like stars. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she had scrubbed recent tears from her cheeks. 

Katherine was conspicuously absent. 

“Right,” Jaina said, slamming the door shut behind her and stomping towards the fireplace to stand between their two chairs. “Well, that was awful.” 

Wordlessly, Lucille held out the glass of whiskey. To Sylvanas’ surprise, Jaina took it and slugged back its contents as easily as though it were water. 

“Welcome back,” Sylvanas said.

“Why did I listen to you?” Jaina asked, handing the glass back over to Lucille for refilling. 

“Think of it this way: you only have one surviving family member, so you’ll never have to do it again,” Sylvanas pointed out. 

“Thank the Tides,” Jaina grumbled.

Lucille handed the glass over to Jaina, filled with a good three fingers of whiskey. “Do we have a plan?”

“We have a plan.” Jaina took the glass. This time she did not immediately drain it in one gulp. Rather, she tipped it back and forth as though admiring the way the liquid slid against the interior of the glass. Then, she took a sip and said, “We march to Windmill Hill tomorrow morning to chase off the Ashvanes and wait out the winter. Or -” She craned her neck to peer out the nearest window, where the faintest sliver of dawn was creeping over the horizon. “Later today, actually. Ugh, but I need some sleep.”  

“And the Admiralty?” Sylvanas asked.

“You’re looking at the official Heir to the Admiralty and Scion of the Great Fleet. Cheers.” Jaina lifted the glass in the air, and tipped it back. What few drops remain, she cast into the fire, which spit and hissed furiously. 

Lucille and Sylvanas exchanged silent glances. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sylvanas said. 

“Yes,” Lucille agreed, though she sounded far less certain. “Congratulations, I suppose?”

In response, Jaina heaved a weary sigh. “Fuck me.”

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us : Chapter 9

9. Devotion

Previous Chapter: Here

The days leading up to the ceremony were a blur of planning and filming as save the dates and promo videos were made and sent out. Sloane couldn’t tell if the Cathedral had always been this crowded or if the influx of priests from the visiting settlements was far more than she had expected when Tyreen had mentioned that a good many of the clans under their banners would be making a pilgrimage this way for the event. They didn’t have nomadic clans on Eden-4 so watching the tent city grow into the surrounding desert and far into the horizon from the twins balcony was a common distraction for her at the moment.

The glass door to the balcony slid open with a ‘fwoosh’ as Tyreen pushed it aside. “Damn girl it’s been hours and you're still watching them?”

Sloane giggled “Yeah yeah, make fun of the poor sheltered forest dweller I know. We couldn’t do shit like that back home you know? Too many trees in the way for a big camp like that.” She explained standing up from where she sat stretching as she did so. She missed the trees to some degree, Pandora only offered cacti and the wayward shrub it was a bit of culture shock to someone so in tune with nature. “Oh Tyreen! I wanted to ask you, what is that thing out there?”

Tyreen followed Sloane’s finger as she pointed to a large dark shape jutting out of the horizon line of the camp.

“That, is actually what I came to get you for. Sloane we have some guests who’d like to meet you.” Tyreen said motioning for the other siren to come back into the room.

Sloane walked back in, grateful to the rush of cool air that greeted her and found two men leaning against the half wall of Tyreen’s kitchenette. One was tall and well built wearing a suit with a pair of circle shades on. The other was a rather off putting looking Tink with wild eyes and several facial piercings wearing a rather worn out vest.

“Ah you must be Miss.Sloane, a pleasure to meet you at last. The God-Queen has told us so much about you.” The taller man said, extending a hand to her.

“Haha, only good things I hope Mister…” She trailed off as she shook his hand.

“Ah, where are my manners, I’m Pain! This my business partner Terror, he’s the silent type. We head the Twins gods entertainment division. Worry not my dear, I haven’t heard a thing about you I wouldn’t tell my audience.” He said with a smile.

“Sorry pardon my surprise Mr.Pain I just thought I’d met all the department heads already.” She cast a glance at Tyreen a bit surprised that she’d never mentioned them until now, but the God-Queen seemed completely unphased.

“Well you see my partner and I run a bit of a traveling show called Carnivora and sometimes that puts us out in the dead zones. Which in fact is where we just came back from after getting a missive from one of the CoV outposts. Our gig is staged in that thing as you so kindly put it.”

Sloane blushed as she realized they had heard her conversation with Tyreen. “I hope I didn’t cause any offence. I do believe you know where I came from then? We don’t have such things back on Eden-4.”

Pain winked at her. “Oh I am aware Miss.Sloane. That brings us to our business now actually. We’re in charge of the after party portion of tonight’s celebration and we wanted to make sure everything was just perfect before the big event. The God-Queen mentioned you have a bit of an affinity for plants, correct?”

“Oh I most certainly do have an affinity for plants sir. One could say I’m rather in tune with nature.” She smirked. She had never been overly proud of her powers but it seemed like she was being sized up and she wasn’t going to back down from it.

“Good,good. We’ve arranged for all kinds of exotic plants to be imported into Carnivora for tonight, I do hope you’ll find them satisfactory.”

Sloane didn’t like the sleazeball attitude she got from the Pain but at the same time she wasn’t about to make a fuss or a fool of herself in front of Tyreen. She instead nodded her head politely and said “I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you’ve done.”

“Oh it’ll be a night to remember for sure.” Tyreen chimed in. “Anyway Pain, Terror, lovely seeing the both of you as always but we’ve gotta get going to deliver Sloane here to the High Priests for the rest of preparations so I will catch you both tonight at the show.”

Tyreen ushered Sloane out into the Cathedral hall where Troy was waiting to join them. Tyreen waited for the door to click close before she spoke again. “Pain and Terror can be a bit much and that’s saying something coming from me.” She said with a chuckle. “But they mean well and I’m sure you’ll see that pay off tonight.”

“Hah yeah totally, you could have told me they were there before I made an ass of myself though.” Sloane hissed still processing the entire encounter.

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist they won’t say anything, not if they want to keep their cushy positions. Pain was just testing to see if you're a pushover and you’re not so, don’t worry about it.”

“Ugh they talk so much, or well Pain does. Never had much of an issue with Terror, but eh. They bring in the views and our followers love their performances so what can ya do but let them do their thing right?” Troy remarked clearly not having all too high an opinion of the duo himself. However there was not time to press him for more information as Tyreen continued to lead her through the hall until they approached the large decorated doors that lead to the sermon hall where the high priests would be waiting.

The doors swung open from the inside as two lower ranking priests bowed low as they entered. The room was wide and full of pews, decorative metal arches sprawled on the ceiling just below stained glass murals of the twins, hands extended towards the viewer. The smell of incense rose from smoking censers that hung in the corners of the room and while often there were grand sermons being presented the only sound in the room currently was the soft humming of the group of robed figures standing at the pulpit.

As Tyreen, Troy, and Sloane approached the group all kneeled drawing the symbol of the Children of the vault in the air before casting their heads down to the floor. Sloane was fairly certain she could pick out which of the priests were Jaxon and Helios based on height and the more decorative nature of their robes but with their hoods up it was difficult to know for sure which high priest was which.

“God-Queen, Father Troy, Blessed Sister, we are honored to be in your presence.” A voice that was decidedly Jaxons broke the silence with a reverence Sloane had only heard from the lower priesthood until this moment.

“I’m entrusting you all to keep Sloane safe until the ceremony. You know what to do.” There was a veiled threat in Tyreen’s voice that was enough to keep them all in line.

“We’ll see you tonight.” Troy added.

With that the twins turned and left the way she came while Sloane waited for the priests to give her further instructions. Though she could only barely make out outlines of faces under the hoods she felt the gazes of all of them upon her.

“You are in good hands Sister Sloane,” Jaxon said, closing the gap between the two of them. “Our fellows are here to see to it that you are ready to be presented not only to the Twin Gods but all of our children. Please come with us.”

For the first time in awhile a leash was attached to the ring of her collar and she was led in formation through a door at the back of the room. Sloane took stock of the room they had entered; it appeared to be a public bath. Though unlike most public baths the bathing pool was small and circular, the water's surface decorated with flower petals.

“We are going to undress you now, Blessed one.”

Sloane realized now that half of the priests had stayed behind at the doorway and assumed that meant that the priests inside the room were all women. She simply stood there as the priests circled around and gently removed her clothes. They were humming the soft tune again and she felt a bit light headed, like they had been transported to some ethereal plane where it was just her and the priests.

Once she was nude they led her over to the pool and she gingerly stepped in. The water was warm and inviting and she was almost able to tune out the hands of the priests as they bathed her in floral smelling soap. After what felt like an age they prompted her to get back out and wrapped her in a towel before they shuffled to the back of the room where they finished toweling her off. Now dry instead of handing her regular clothes back to her they gave a white cloth gown that looked akin to their robes save for the hoods.

Now dressed and back in the main room of the sermon hall. Sloane looked to the priests who all nodded and Jaxon spoke. “You are ready to be presented to the Twin Gods. Come we will deliver you to the Holy City.”

The group of priests moved again to surround Sloane so that no one would be able to see the siren amongst them. They walked to the Cathedral garage which was emptier than she had ever seen, only a single heavily armoured technical with an enclosed back sat in the middle of the room. Two well armed members of the lower clergy were waiting by the driver and gunners seat while the high priests loaded her in first and then filed in around her.

“Are you nervous, Blessed One?” Helios asked as the car pulled out of the garage.

“Maybe a little, if only because of how many people are going to be watching.” She admitted. Seven billion people was far more than she had ever imagined seeing her in her life. Somehow that was more scary than being in the presence of the two most influential people in the six galaxies, but they were sirens like her and even with their domineering public images they felt safe to her.

“Do not dwell on that Blessed One. Think only of how you are giving yourself over to the family; to the Twin Gods. When you are presented focus on them and nothing else will matter.”

While Sloane didn’t quite think that would work with her the way it might with someone who bought into the idea that the twins were actually gods she couldn’t deny that they did have an effect on her. Feelings that had been growing in her like the roots of a plant, she was only just beginning to understand what they might mean. All she knew was that tonight was more than just cementing her place as a loyal follower of the twins.

As they approached the holy city that had grown in size over taking the patch of desert it normally bordered the sound of Mouthpiece’s music and people partying filled the air. They drove past crowds of revelers , neon lights, and an entire fairground erected in the centre of it all. A large holographic image of Pain was projected in the air as he gave a spiel with all the charm and charisma of a ringmaster.

“Don’t forget dear devoted followers, tonight we have a special Carnivora performance full of mystery and bloodshed. And for all the Eridium tier followers in attendance don’t forget to pick up your commemorative buzz axe and tee shirt.”

The air was almost buzzing with excited energy like the calm before a lightning storm. It was tangible even from the inside of the vehicle, even as their drivers hollered out the windows to clear the way ahead of them Sloane felt no danger. Though she did want to be back in the twins company, this was the longest time she had spent away from them since being taken in by them and it was only now that she realized how safe they made her feel.

The technical lurched to an abrupt stop suddenly and the clergy member in the passenger seat leaned back to look at everyone in the back.

“We’ve arrived, exalted ones.”

“Thank you for your service, may the Twin Gods bless your path.” Jaxon said as the high priests filed out of the vehicle before offering Sloane a hand up.

As she exited the car she looked up and saw with great detail that which had been looming in the background of the Cathedral all week. It was a massive fortress set on even more massive tank treads with enough room underneath to comfortably build another tent city under, which the revelers had in fact done leaving an exclusion zone in the path of the trends. The entrance was that of a giant metal skull complete with stairs designed to look like a tongue as the way up.

Soon as she was led into the complex Sloane was amazed by the sheer number of people milling around in the entrance hall. Some of them noticed the band of priests entering and began to whisper amongst each other but most of their gazes were affixed to the giant screens hanging on the walls. From this angle Sloane couldn’t tell what was going on but she could make out the bottom edges of Tyreen’s boots.

“This way Blessed One.” A priest tapped her on the shoulder and gestured to a scaffolding ladder that led up into the higher levels of the fortress. Sloane tried not to think about how unsteady the metal ladder seemed as she climbed higher the crowd of people blurring together into a swarm of color and movement before she reached the platform the priests who had already made the climb were waiting on.

“We’re so high up.” She remarked as they waited for the last few to join them.

“Surely you didn’t expect us to try and cross that crowd. I don’t think anything less than a direct order from one of the twins could part that sea.” Helios remarked. “I like it up here though, really shows you the bigger picture.”

He was right, from up in the catwalk the entire room was visible from the masses of followers being sorted to their appropriate spots to the massive images of Tyreen and Troy on the screen. It was all a system, this building, a well oiled machine that knew how to run at the most efficient of levels. This was just an entertainment complex yet somehow it seemed to be representative of how the whole of how the Children of the Vault operated.

They exited the room through the catwalk and entered what appeared to be a performers lounge. She could see evidence of the Twins having been there including a couple husked bodies in the corner and a well used ashtray.

“Sit tight Blessed One.” Jaxon said as the high priests all scattered to do various things and left Sloane in front of two screens which played the Twins current stream. Tyreen and Troy were dressed in showier versions of their standard outfits. Troy’s snake emblem motif carried over around the shoulders to the front of his vest, while Tyreen still wore her standard coat; the clothing under it was a deep purple dress with Star patterns scattered across it tastefully. Both outfits drew attention and played well with the twins' siren markings and Sloane was impressed with the craftsmanship of them.

“And that about wraps up the pre-show folks, be sure to leave a comment on what your favourite act of Pandora’s next top slaughter with the hashtag Carnivora for your chance to win an eridium tier membership.” Tyreen said leaning against the railing of the balcony she and Troy stood on.

“We’ll be back after a five minute break to get this show on the road, in the meantime sit back relax and watch the skullcrusher clans fire juggler.”

The CoV logo flashed on screen before the scene shifted to the fire juggler. Sloane jumped as a hand touched her shoulder and as she turned to look she saw one of the high priests put their hands up defensively and take a step back.

“My apologies for the startle Blessed one, there is one more thing we must do before you can be presented to the Twin gods.” They said before attaching a thick chain to the collar.

It was in that moment that Sloane noted the quiet that had descended. Until now there had been a constant thrum of music that she had pushed to the back of her mind as she processed everything, now however it was silent. Helios returned to the room through the curtain partition and gave a nod to the others. They closed around her again, Jaxon taking the chain in her hand and they walked through the curtain.

Troy’s cam bot whizzed into the air space near Sloane’s head immediately and hovered, tracking her as she was led forward across the balcony. The silence felt heavy. She looked to the ground below them and saw hundreds of people sat heads bowed in prayer, the twins standing tall at the end of the walkway waiting to be joined. Hanging from the ceiling were hundreds of baskets of exotic plants, flowering vines as thick as her waist overflowing from their pots. As she walked past some of them swung forward towards her as she reached out with her powers to have a better look.

“Children of the Vault, please turn your attention from your prayers to welcome the newest member of the holy family.” Tyreen announced. Sloane could feel all seven billion eyes across the universe turn towards her as the gap was closed between herself and the twins.

“Kneel before your Gods.” Tyreen commanded locking eyes with her, the steely blue seeming cold and methodic. It was almost like looking into the eyes of a stranger and not the woman Sloane had spent the better part of recent times getting to know. Without hesitation she kneeled and heard the chain jingle as it passed from priest to god.

“You came to us lost and without purpose, but here in our holy family you are useful, you are among people who would lay down their lives to protect you and would expect you to do the same without hesitation. Do you swear yourself to this cause?”

“Yes.”

“Do you Sloane, swear yourself to us, the Twin Gods?”

“Yes, God-Queen.”

“This chain around your neck, it symbolizes the life you lived before we found you. The things and people that hurt you, but no more. Troy would you do the honors?”

Tyreen passed a pair of bolt cutters to her twin who stepped forward as his sister moved to tilt Sloanes head up and out of the way. The chain fell away with a loud thunk as it hit the floor.

“Your bonds are broken. Your path clear, there is but one thing left to cement your place within our holy family. You must wear the mark.” Troy said gesturing to a tattoo gun that sat on a small table to the left of them. He took it in his human hand and approached her from behind, one of the priests pushing the collar and her hair out of the way.

She was surprised as the buzz of the gun got closer to her, Troy’s mechanical arm resting on her back to keep her in place. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she felt it make contact with her skin. The more surprising action however, was when he leaned in close to her ear and whispered “You can get through this, just relax.”

True to his word she zoned out focusing instead on Tyreen who stood proud as ever observing the two of them. The details of her outfit were impeccably highlighted by the lighting of the room and Sloane thought about how much planning she must put into every appearance the twins made. Before she could over analyze the set dressing and lighting of the event Troy gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder and backed off.

“Wear it proudly.” Troy said rejoining his sister while Sloane stayed kneeling before them.

She heard the camera drone whiz around her again before it went back to hovering in front of Tyreen. Tyreen’s boots clicked against the floor of the balcony as she approached and stopped in front of her. A gloved hand caught her under the chin and tilted her head upward to look into those cat-like eyes.

“Do you swear your undying loyalty to us? To the family?Do swear to strike down all those who would stand against us or threaten your family with harm?” She tilted her head like she was scoping out prey, she knew the answer already but she wanted to hear it.

“I swear my God-Queen. I pledge my life to the Twin Gods.” They had rehearsed this scene but now that it was real there was something strangely different about it. Sloane’s throat felt dry as the words left her mouth, there was more to it than just servitude and protection for her. They were Sirens. They were like her and even with the expectations they had for her it was just so nice to feel like she was somewhere with people who truly understood her. People who would see her as an equal instead of someone beyond them.

Tyreen’s lips curved into a genuine smile as if until this moment she had been unsure if Sloane was going to say yes. She released her grip and motioned for Sloane to stand as she turned back to the crowd.

“There you have it brothers and sisters, another member has joined our ranks and a Siren no less. Please give the warmest Children of the Vault welcome to our newest member of the high clergy, Blessed Sister Sloane.”

Sloane felt Troy’s hand catch the front of her outfit as she was pushed forward by the priests. He pulled hard but instead of tearing the fabric off her the plain white robe flipped over a tear away seam revealing that all along it had been a green dress covered in embroidered flower patterns and vines.

The roar of excitement from the crowd was almost deafening. In that moment Sloane was sure the planet itself was vibrating under the energy ramping up from the crowd. Her own fears were cast off in the moment, she was home, she belonged. This was what she had been missing since the day her parents decided they were unwilling to raise a siren. As she looked to either side of her the twins wore grins that were far more wolfish than Sloane would have expected, it seems this was the reaction they were hoping for.

“Silence, your God-Queen wishes to speak.” Mouthpiece’s voice rang out after what felt like an eternity of cheering. The silence that descended almost had a tangible weight to it as Tyreen stepped in front of her again.

“Thank you, all of you. I’m sure Sloane feels right at home knowing how much you love her already. Now this wouldn’t be a welcome party if we didn’t let her spill some heretical blood. Do the honors won’t you Mouthpiece?” Tyreen purred looking down into the ring at her bodyguard.

Sloane watched as a cage emerged from the center of the room. Now the plants made sense, they wanted her to prove she was a killer, a predator. They wanted to prove to everyone watching that she was just as dangerous as the gods she served. Of course, Sloane was no stranger to killing things to survive. She had hunted the creatures in her forest back on Eden-4, she had even killed people who were poaching the wildlife but this felt different somehow. Those had all been private, no one had known she was a killer when she was the witch of the woods she was just an urban legend then. There would be no denying what she was this time. Everyone would see her do it; they would know what she was capable of. They might even fear her after it was done.

She looked at Tyreen again, she was the best example of what Sloane thought a siren should be. She was strong and fearless, she carried herself with the air of someone who knew they were born to lead. She knew Tyreen wouldn’t hesitate in a situation like this, she wanted desperately in that moment to earn Tyreen’s praise. So she couldn’t hesitate either.

She reached out to the nearest group of plants, her siren markings flaring as her fingers caressed the vine. A single touch being all she needed to know what the plant was capable of. This one was a pitcher plant, she could use that. Her powers called out to the others of its type that were hanging around the room and they merged together vines overlapping like a large snake at the end of it a large pitcher erupted easily large enough to hold human bodies. The plant slipped into the cage between the bars, vines grabbing the prisoners as they tried to escape screaming and writhing as they were tossed into the pitcher.

Sloane turned to look at the twins as she released her hold on the plant, still unsure of what she was feeling. Their icy blue eyes seemed to be calculating her performance before the creases of a smile formed on their faces. A tangible weight lifted from deep inside her guts, they weren’t horrified or afraid, she had done well.

“Well wasn’t that a show everyone! You might want to watch out Pain, she might give your little show a run for its money.” Troy praised clapping her on the small of her back with his prosthetic arm.

“We’re going to take the Blessed Sister back to our viewing area to watch the rest of the festivities. Stay bloodthirsty brothers and sisters, and for you newcomers joining us for the first time tonight don’t forget to like, follow, and obey.” Tyreen bowed for the camera and the audience. Her hand then threaded around Sloane’s waist much the same way Troy’s was.

The twins began to walk back towards the back room Sloane guided by their contact, once they crossed the threshold she felt the adrenaline wear off and she sagged slightly.

“If you wanna stay Ty I’ll take her back to the Cathedral; starting to get a headache from all the noise anyway.” Troy said as he caught her in his grasp hefting her into the crook of his prosthetic arm.

“Yeah I’ll pick up your slack as usual. Just don’t do anything stupid Troy.” Tyreen rolled her eyes and Troy didn’t particularly like the tone she had taken but again he was exhausted and not in the mood to argue with her.

Instead he flipped her off and gave a snort fighting back the urge to snark after her not to drink too much. He knew she would, he knew he’d probably be taking care of her hung over ass in the morning but he honestly couldn’t care about that right now. His attention was continuously dragged back to the barely conscious form of Sloane in his arms. He was being very careful to avoid grazing her Siren markings, he didn’t need to feed right now and something inside him was screaming at him to not betray her vulnerability. He very well wouldn’t like it if someone tried to take advantage of him when he was vulnerable, hence why it was such a rare thing to see from him at all. Troy had faced far more betrayal and pity from showing his vulnerability so now he made sure that the only people who saw were the same people he would trust to hold a knife to his throat .

[prorevenge]

I'm going to hell, apparently.

Let me preface this by saying I've never posted to this reddit before, so pardon me if I don't format this very well. It's a bit long, so TL;DR is at the end.

As far as names go, there's really only one, and that's "GA" for "Great Aunt," my grandmother's sister.

GA liked to fashion herself as the family historian, and went out of her way to get all of my grandmother's family photos after she passed away, as well as many of the photos from her husband's family. This is about mid 2000s, so I'm a teenager at that point. We lived about three hours away, and my GA, not the most tech savvy person, called my mom to see if I would be willing to go stay over at her house for a week so I could show her how to scan and archive photos on her brand new desktop. She was very proud of it, and assumed she could easily upload and document whatever files she needed to share with family that way-- except the woman was 60 and had the technological knowledge of a wet paper bag.

While I would be staying with her, she agreed that she would take me regularly to see my grandfather, who lived in the same town. I figured it was a pretty good deal-- free food for a week, and regular visits to the man who half-raised me as my father figure stand in. We were really close growing up, so I jumped at any chance for me to go see him. Along the way, she also tried to get me to do all sorts of other things on her "brand new computer," like set up her free trial of Microsoft Word that had come with it, get her some fancy photo editing software, etc. I told her the most important part of it would be the fact she'd need to let me install a good Antivirus software, but oddly enough, she wasn't interested in that. "I don't go on nasty sites that give you viruses," she so sagely said, referencing mostly what her middle aged but also somewhat computer illiterate son had been telling her.

Already when I get there, I'm seeing some red flags. My Great Uncle was cool, but very much acknowledged that he'd married a bit of a control freak woman-- while I didn't mind staying at his house, there were a lot of signs showing up very quickly that she expected me to work every single day for her, archiving pictures and showing her what 'cut' and 'paste' meant with files, and how to make folders separating photos. This included me spending several minutes at a time labeling full photos, and generally doing a full time data entry job for several hours a day, at 15, with no real pay other than her feeding me.

Basically, I was kind of getting shafted, because every time I would bring up going and wanting to see my grandfather for a couple of hours, she would sing-song "That's not really what we invited you over here for, is it?" But she would begrudgingly take me over for an hour or two in the afternoon, even though I hadn't gotten to really visit with him in over a year.

Now let me preface this by saying I'm from the deep South. My entire family is very religious apart from myself, but due to personal reasons, I lost faith in religion when I was relatively young. While I wasn't open about this, I only mentioned it as a personal preference for not going to Church, so I told them I would not be attending with them on Sunday as I didn't bring anything to wear with me, and would much rather get the sleep in for the several hour drive home on Monday to prepare to go back to school (we were on Winter Break at the time, so I had spent my entire last week of Winter Break helping this woman.)

She starts pressuring me about it on Thursday and Friday, but Saturday she really starts to lay it on thick. Finally, with that kind of 'I'm getting tired of this but I can't be mean because this is family' sort of laugh, I tell her I haven't been to church in over four years and I didn't plan on starting it up any time soon.

In the most offended voice, GA gets really quiet and touches my arm. "You know, your grandmother (who had died four years prior) would be so disappointed in you. How will you ever get to see her or your sister in Heaven if you keep this up? Don't you ever want to see either of them again? If you keep this up, you're going to go to Hell."

Now, I never imagined she would bring up my grandmother, HER OWN SISTER, to guilt trip me, but she had gone a step lower and brought up MY sister, who also passed away a few years prior. It was immediately like a slap in the face, and since I never expected her to literally tell me that I, personally, was throwing away any chance I ever had of seeing two of the most important people in my life that I'd lost, I reflexively started crying on the spot. She started pulling out all of the guilt tripping "apology" cards of how she was only looking out for my best interest, and that she didn't mean to make me cry, and finally, I had had enough. I had enough of this terrible woman who constantly belittled her family members for not living up to her ideals and who had spent the last week treating me like a prisoner on visitation rights with my grandfather.

And so, I waited while they were at church, got on her brand new shiny computer, and went to every single virus-infested web page I could, made sure to download at least 3 trojans on her computer, and cleared the history like it had never happened.

I didn't touch the computer when she wasn't watching while they were there, and by the time they made it back from church, I was fast asleep in their guest bed like nothing had ever happened. She had no way of knowing I was behind the reason their computer freaking out, and she blamed my uncle for going to news sites she didn't like for the viruses For the next several weeks she tried calling my mom to get a hold of me, suddenly very, VERY interested in 'whatever antivirus I had suggested to her when we were doing pictures,' but of course, I always told mom that I was far too wrapped up with doing school work. After I told mom what my aunt had said to me, she was more than willing to cover for me so I wouldn't have to talk to her anymore.

Eventually I overheard that she turned to her equally computer illiterate son, who wound up paying a 'professional' $200 to reformat the computer entirely. Shame, if I would have known they had $200 to pay to someone to do a virus wipe, I would have offered to do it. Unfortunately the 'professional' also told her that all of the photos we spent that week scanning and documenting were irreversibly lost, so she had to do it all over again without me there to hold her hand.

TLDR; Aunt used visits with my grandfather to bribe me into helping her work on her computer, made a huge stink about taking me to see my grandfather, then told me to my face that I was never going to see my dead grandmother or sister again because I was going to hell for not going to church. I proceed to infect her computer with more viruses than a $2 hooker and let her deal with the aftermath.

(source) story by (/u/xinayru)

[papermoonloveslucy]

DANCE LESSONS aka DANCING LESSONS

June 25, 1950

“Dance Lessons” aka “Dancing Lessons” aka “George Takes Dancing Lessons” is episode #94 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on June 25, 1950 on the CBS Radio Network. This is the final episode of season two. The third and final season begins on September 2, 1950. 

Lucille Ball had mentioned in an interview that she might use the 1950 summer hiatus to make a movie based on the life of Robert Capa in Europe with Desi in the lead, but those plans never materialized. Instead, she spent the summer doing promotion for Fancy Pants, her film with Bob Hope, which premiered on July 19, 1950.

Synopsis ~ Liz cons George in to taking her to a nightclub by telling him it is to celebrate their anniversary but it is actually to celebrate the anniversary of the last time they went out to a dinner dance. 

Note: This episode very loosely inspired the very first aired episode of “I Love Lucy” “The Girls Want To Go To A Nightclub” (ILL S1;E1) on October 15, 1951, although it was actually filmed second. The similarities are mostly thematic.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper.  The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

REGULAR CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born as Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.”  From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) had worked with Lucille Ball on “The Wonder Show” on radio in 1938. One of the front-runners to play Fred Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” he eventually played Alvin Littlefield, owner of the Tropicana, during two episodes in 1952. After playing a Judge in an episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1958, he would re-team with Lucy for all of her subsequent series’: as Theodore J. Mooney in ”The Lucy Show”; as Harrison Otis Carter in “Here’s Lucy”; and as Curtis McGibbon on "Life with Lucy.” Gordon died in 1995 at the age of 89.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricarodo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968. 

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz, a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), was one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

GUEST CAST

Peter Leeds (Speedy Krause / Headwaiter) was born in Bayonne, NJ, and was seen as the Reporter questioning the Maharincess of Franistan in “The Publicity Agent” (ILL S1;E31). He starred with Lucy in the films The Long, Long Trailer (1953) and The Facts of Life (1960) with Bob Hope. Coincidentally, he also appeared in “Lucy and Bob Hope” (ILL S6;E1) as well as an episode of “Here’s Lucy” in 1971.

Hal March (Waiter) first appeared on the "I Love Lucy” in “Lucy Fakes Illness” (ILL S1;E16) using his own name to play an actor posing as the doctor who diagnoses Lucy with ‘golbloots.’ March got his first big break when he was cast as Harry Morton on “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” in 1950. He eventually lost the part to Fred Clark who producers felt was better paired with Bea Benaderet, who played Blanche, and here plays Iris Atterbury. He stayed with the show in other roles, the last airing just two weeks before his appearance as Eddie Grant in “Lucy is Matchmaker” (ILL S2;E27). In 1966 he was seen on “The Lucy Show.”

Veola Vonn (Starlight Girl / Miss Crawford / Secretary) played the Emcee of “Your Favorite Celebrity On TV”, the show Ricky goes on shackled to Lucy in “The Handcuffs” (ILL S2;E4). In real life, she was married to Frank Nelson, a character actor regularly appearing on “My Favorite Husband” and “I Love Lucy”. Before that, she was married to Hanley Stafford, whose final screen credit was as Principal Westcott on “The Lucy Show” in 1963. 

EPISODE

The episode opens with Liz and George dressing for an evening out at a nightclub. It is their anniversary - of the last time they went to a nightclub!  The Atterbury’s are joining them there. George has trouble fitting into his tux. Liz intimates that he has gotten fat. 

The Atterburys greet them at the club (”George boy! Liz girl”). The girls are excited, while the boys would rather play canasta. As usual, Liz has trouble catching the attention of the waiter. When she does (by screaming), she causes him to drop a tray. She then makes fun of his French accent. When the waiter is chastised by his boss, his accent suddenly disappears!  

After dinner, the boys complain that the tables in the club are too close together. 

IRIS: “They are pretty close, Liz. I got my elbows buttered three times.”

The music starts, but the boys are reluctant to dance, despite sarcastic hints by the girls. 

LIZ (to George): “What about you, Najinsky?” 

Vaslav Najinsky (1890-1950) was a Polish ballet dancer often cited as the greatest male dancer of the early 20th century. Born in Kiev to Polish parents, Nijinsky grew up in Imperial Russia but considered himself to be Polish. He was celebrated for his virtuosity and for the depth of his characterizations. He could dance en pointe, a rare skill among male dancers at the time, and was admired for his seemingly gravity-defying leaps. Najinsky died just 2 and a half months prior to this broadcast, so his name would have been in the news when the script was written. 

Liz laments that they don’t go dancing as often since they got married.

LIZ: “Ever since we said ‘I do’ there are so many things we don’t!”

This classic line of dialogue was repeated verbatim in the first episode of “I Love Lucy” “The Girls Want To Go To A Nightclub” (ILL S1;E1). It was considered by producer Jess Oppenheimer to be the funniest line of the entire series. Perhaps both series’! 

Speedy Krause, the club MC, interrupts the arguing with some bad jokes from the bandstand.

 SPEEDY: “There are celebrities here tonight. Oh, pardon me, madam. I thought you were Boris Karloff.” 

Boris Karloff (1887-1969) was born William Henry Pratt in Surrey, England. He is primarily known for his roles in horror films. He portrayed Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and Son of Frankenstein (1939). He also appeared as The Mummy (1932). In 1947, he starred with Lucille Ball in the film Lured. In 1950, he worked exclusively on television.

The boys quickly become bored with Speedy’s unfunny routine. 

RUDOLPH: “This act would even be bad on television.” 

In 1950, television was still in its infancy, and quality programming was scarce.  Five million TV sets were sold as the price dropped from $500 in 1949, to a more manageable $200. In 1950, just under 20 percent of American homes had a television set. 

The floor show starts with the scantily clad Starlight Cuties, which causes the boys to drool and the girls to look for the exit. The Cuties head out onto the club floor to find dance partners. The boys suddenly turn into Najinsky!  

The moment feels very much like “The Country Club Dance” (ILL S6;E25) where the husbands all vie for the attention of sexy Diana Jordan (Barbara Eden). 

The Starlight Cutie that approaches George and Rudolph even has a southern drawl  like Diana’s. While the boys are ogling the Cutie, the girls flee the club and the act ends. 

Next morning at the bank, George and Rudolph talk about their debacle of an evening at the nightclub. The girls suddenly drop by the office to forgive their husbands - under two conditions:  

1. They take them dining and dancing monthly. 2. They take dancing lessons - starting this afternoon!

Mr. Atterbury is excited at the prospect:

RUDOLPH: “I’ve seen those girls who teach at Arthur Murray’s.” 

Arthur Murray (1895-1991) was a ballroom dancer and businessman, whose name is most often associated with the chain of dance studios that bear his name.  

A month after this episode aired, Murray premiered the television show “The Arthur Murray Party” which was basically one long advertisement for their studios. It aired until 1960. In 1962, Lucille Ball and Arthur Murray were two of the many guests celebrating the 14th anniversary of “The Ed Sullivan Show.”  

In “The Young Fans” (ILL S1;E20), Lucy tries to give love-struck Arthur Morton dance lessons, but confesses to Ricky that “Arthur Morton is no Arthur Murray.”  Murray’s name is also mentioned in Desi Arnaz’s popular song, “Cuban Pete”: “And Cuban Pete doesn’t teach you in a hurry like Arthur Murray.”

However, Liz isn’t sending them to Arthur Murray, but to Professor Crawford’s School of the Dance, where she went as a child. Instead of being greeted by  a befuddled old Professor, they meet his daughter, a breathless sexpot who immediately agrees to be their instructress. 

Time passes. At the Cooper home, Katie the maid opens the door to Iris who has been shopping for their monthly nightclub outings. The boys have been attending lessons faithfully. Just then, Miss Crawford phones to leave a message for “Bright Eyes” Cooper!  The jig (literally) is up!  Liz and Iris realize why their husbands have been so regularly attending dance class. Liz and Iris dash to the dance studio to surprise the boys and let them know they have found out who they dancing with!

In  “The Girls Want To Go To A Nightclub” (ILL S1;E1) Lucy and Ethel disguise themselves as country bumpkins in order to teach their husbands a lesson for looking for dates. Oddly, the radio version is more realistic, but less laugh-out-loud funny. The physical comedy of the television version is the reason it was chosen as the series premiere over “Lucy Thinks Ricky is Trying to Murder Her” which was filmed before, but aired fourth. 

As punishment, Liz and Iris instruct the boys to dance with each other! 

LIZ: “Don’t they make a lovely couple!”  

End of Episode

[hxnjisxng]

Snowdrops || Han Jisung || The Language of the Flowers AU ||

So idk i haven’t written in a really long time but i’m really excited for this so !! This is also my first time ever writing bullet thingie so,, yeah,,, not all of these will be in the bullet format I just felt like trying out smth new !! and to stay true to my ult Han Jisung i will write about him first. In this like,,, kinda cute little series thing. Every theme will kinda just relate to the flower meaning so,,, yeet !! Also, s/o to my one and only bub @chenle who told me to tag her when my first official writing thing happened so here !!!

Genre: Bad Boy!Jisung x Piano Player!Reader au; bulleted scenario  

Warnings: none !!

Word Count: 3.2k 

| Jisung | Minho | Chan | Changbin | Jeongin | Seungmin | Felix | Woojin | Hyunjin |

{picture not mine, credits to owner}

Snowdrop: (noun) A European flower which bears white flowers and blooms in February/early March, it signifies the end of winter and the coming of spring. Represents hope, purity, warmth, and new beginnings. 

Ever since you were little you’ve known you’ve wanted to be a pianist

It all started when you were younger and you went to see an orchestra with your parents

They 100% expected you to fall asleep in the first,,, like,,, five seconds after you came into the theater

What they did not expect is for you to sit there starry eyed staring at the person playing the piano for a whole 3 hours

They were,,, sister shook,,,,

But they didn’t think much of it, you know, like yeah they just like classical music

You know, as one does

But the second y’all got back into the car that was it

You wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty the music sounded

How much you liked the sound of pressing keys and the sound of the pedal lifting or the sound of the mallets and strings inside of the piano

You loved it

It was as though you had just found your one and only true love, y’all know, the yee to your haw

The ying to your yang

The chris to your weed

Sorry back to the point

You just couldn’t explain it, little four year old you just knew the fluttering feeling in your heart was a good one

So your parents signed you up for piano

They said they would find you the best teacher they could, one that could make you great

So that’s what they did

From a week after that concert, you started piano lessons

And you only fell more in love with the piano as time went on

So, after this little bit of context, flash back to reality 

oop there goes gravity oop

there goes rabbit he chokes

Sorry okay eminem is my calling

So it’s the end of winter, it’s been a really cold and bitter winter, but it’s around the end of february and somehow it just HaS noT gotten any warmer

And here we meet our boy jisung

Our chipmunk, our squirrel, our boi yk

But he’s a little bit of a hooligan

A bad boy if you will

You know, the leather jacket, the messy hair, the snarky attitude, the cocky jokes and the cute smile you knOW and he always always ALWAYS has a lollipop

A pink lemonade lollipop to be exact

It’s his favorite flavour

Any who, he’s one of those guys, the type of guy that almost everyone either wants to be him or with him

He’s also a part of a trio of you know bad boys at your school, the other two being his best buds Chan and Changbin

They call themselves 3RACHA

They’re as tight knit as can be, they do everything together

Skip class, hang out, throw parties

You know all that bAd bOY stUfF

He also has a slight reputation to get into fights every so often

Maybe not only so often

Maybe vERY often

But he’s trying his best okay those people just get on his nerves when they poke fun of one of his friends or his music

“I’m just a little misunderstood, okay I didn’t wanna break his nose it just sometimes happens, you know, my hand just kinda lost control of itself and hit him in the nose really really really hard. I swear.”

“Mr. Han, I distinctly remember you telling him to shove a stick up his, excuse my language, ass, and then proceeding to punch him.”

*them sitting in a perfectly silent office* “hM sorry it just got really loud in here, pardon???” :))))))

Real footage of Jisung last week after breaking some guy’s nose  

He also loves loves LoVES music

Loves all music

Except for classical and country

He’s always despised classical music, it just seemed so boring

There’s no pounding beat

No lyrics to scream along to

He just found everything about it depressing and irritating and just monotone

Well one day, as he was wandering through the school

You know, as one does when their friends were busy doing who knows what during lunch

He stumbled into the music hall

Now this was an accident

He didn’t really want to be here since the only courses your school offered in terms of music were classical ones

And again

Gross

But for some weird, strange, odd-ball, out of this world, sister shook reason

He felt like he needed to be here

That’s when he heard it

tHE hiLLS aRE aLiVE wiTH

The sound of music

Not the kind of music he liked

It was definitely classical music, so y’all, it’s disgusting

‘I should go, the music is starting to make me depressed already’ he mumbled

But his feet wouldn’t move, his body just kinda froze

It felt like something was just pulling him to that room, to that ugly boring nasty music

And it’s not like he’s never listened to classical before, he had, but this time something was weird about it

He still didn’t like it, it all still sounded the same, nothing interesting

But something for some weiRD REASON was telling him to go to that room

Like something was a little different about the way it was being played

‘Maybe,,,, I should just look for a couple seconds and,,,,,,, tell the person to stop playing that boring stuff,,,, or maybe I could just listen for a bit,,, but like obviously no that’s nasty,,,,’

The door was slightly ajar, so the music was just drifting through the air

Just calling him over

Jisung slowly walked up to the door, and peeped through the window

And there you were

You, reader, in all of your piano classical music glory

Sat there playing your heart out to the world

In that moment when he saw you with your hair slightly drifting over your face

Your eyebrows slightly scrunched up in concentration as your hands ran across the keys

His heart was screaming

Literally just like

dabdikajbksbfkajbDNBDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

He almost forgot about the fact he hated classical music if he could just watch you play it all day

Wait,,, what no,,,,

Gross,,,,, the Han Jisung doesn’t like people that easily,,,,,, nuh-uh thats def not him folks

And he got so scared by that feeling

The one inside of his chest

He was scared of how it made his hands feel tingly and it made him feel like he stood up too fast because his head felt so rushed and light

It felt like he was flying, but also crashing down to earth at the same time

And when I say scared

I mean terrified

This boy is mortified of catching feelings

Definitely not because in the third grade the person he liked stomped all over his heart because they wouldn’t give him a cracker,,,,, no who even thOughT tHaT hAHa

Just the thought of him truly giving his whole heart to someone ?? unacceptable

Like in this economy ?? liking someone ?? unreasonable

So he did the only logical thing

He ran away

Far back to the other side of school

And he was so out of it for the rest of the day, he just couldn’t handle it

He even went back to class next period because he was so out of it

“W-welcome Mr. Han take a seat, it’s a pleasure to have you finally join us.”

“mm-hmm”

He didn’t pay attention all day though, his mind was only occupied by you

Cheesy, I know, but it was

Even when he went to hang out with Chan and Changbin

“Bro,,, where were you during lunch ?? you kinda just disappeared”

“I was uhhh,,,, in the library,,,”

“The library ?? are you good ???”

“Yeah,,,,, im fine it’s cool,,,”

“Dude, you alright you seem a little weird.”

“Yeah,,,,,,,,, im just thinking”

Jisung thInKing ??? unheard of

So, this terrified Chan and Changbin because whenever Jisung thinks it’s never good

But it’s been three days since he saw you

And he’s still thinking about you and he’s kinda emo about it

Because, of course, you occupied his thoughts, the song you were playing stuck in his mind on a loop

This is so cheesy please forgive me

It was so bad that he started hearing it everywhere, it even started placing itself into his music and the lyrics he was writing somehow all revolved around love

He’d sit there for hours writing lyrics until he realized all of it in some way tied back to you

It was bothering him

Like a lot

So now it’s been a whole six days, and trust me he’s been counting and he thought he could take it,,, you know not see you,,,

Until he’s had enough

He needed to go see you again otherwise he felt like his head would explode

And it wasn’t because he liked you or anything,,, he just wanted to see you so he wouldn’t write any more music about you,,,,, because this was just SuPeR gRoSS

So he went to the same hall, the same room, the same time, and there he saw you

Still working on the same part of the piece

It was just as beautiful as the first time he heard it and he honestly was in awe of how your hands moved across the piano as though they were as light as air

Anyone even from a million kilometers away could tell you were frustrated with this part

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to worry because it was beautiful

He wanted to just go in there and tell you that your playing is amazing and hold your hands and just comfort you

But he just couldn’t say anything

And he could always say something, he never stopped talking

And his heart was still doing the same flippity flop screaming thing in his chest

Big surprise, i know

But then,,,, he had a genius idea,,,, like spectacular,,,, like nobel prize winning idea,,,

“Maybe if i see them all the time,,,,, my heart will get used to it and it won’t flippity flop anymore :’D,,,,,,”

wow ,,,, genius i know you don’t have to tell him

So instead of saying anything, or ignoring you any longer, he decided

I’m just gonna come here and watch them play every day because as long as I see them and never talk to her,,,, eventually whatever weird heart thing i have will go away !!!!!

So that is exactly what he did

Every single day for the next coming three weeks,,, he would disappear during lunch and go and watch you play

Changbin and Chan were getting suspicious but they never asked,,, so Jisung thought he was so slick you know

So it’s been weeks of him doing this

It’s now around the end of February, and he planned on doing smth for Valentines day,,,

Not,, because he liked you or because it was valentines day, but because he just,,, somehow planned to do it for February 14th

He was really counting on his genius 10000+ IQ plan to work

But, surprise surprise, his plan was failing

It was almost as though he liked you APPRECIATED !! your playing even more after seeing you play :))))))

Just seeing you just so cutely hunched over the piano

It made his heart hurt wiTH APPRECIATION FOR YOUR ARTISTRY NOT L O V E

Haha obviously,,,,,, not love,,,,,, who even said that y’all hear summ ????

And he realized maybe he just ReaLLY REALLY reAllY wanted to be your friend !!

Really really close friend !!

And that’s why he wanted to talk to you !! And hold you !! Like F R I E N D S do !! haha !!

And you know this mentality was really working great, until one Thursday

It was near the beginning of March when it was getting a little warmer and all that green good grass was kinda appearing from under the snow,,, these little white flowers peeking out from under the melting snow and it was just so pretty that day

And all Jisung could think about was how beautiful you would look today outside

Holding his hand

In a totally PLATONIC and FRIENDLY way because he obviously just liked you as a friend

And maybe today he would tell you how much he wanted to be your friend :D

But that lunch you just didn’t show up for half an hour ??

He was confused,,,, like really confused

And also concerned ?? where were you,,, you were always here on time,, he even makes sure to show up 5 minutes after your usual arrival time so he could calmly sit outside of the door without getting caught

But today you weren’t there and he was about to leave and chicken out until he felt a hand on his shoulder

‘AHHHHHHHHHHHHH’

Istg he jumped like fifty feet in the air

“Hey,, you’re that guy who always sits outside when I practice !!! Han Jisung right ?? Sorry I was late I needed to talk to Mr.Park about a science assignment I have that’s due next week,, ”

Jisung.exe has stopped working

First of all,,,

yoU kNeW ?!?!?! and he thought he was so slick

Not only that you knew his nAMe and apologized for being late ??? did you like ??? cARE ABOUT HIM A LITTLE BIT

And he also just,,, kinda loved the way you just said his name

It made him UwU in ways he didn’t understand

In a friENDLY WAY

Oh who was he lying to at this point

Maybe he did like you just a LITTLE more than like a friend would like a friend  

so what,,, sue him,,,, 

He was so caught up in the million and five thoughts that were racing through his mind that he almost forgot to respond, so he managed to choke out the following charming and very expressive line:

“U-uh you know my name ???”

,,,,,good one Jisung,,, real smooth,,,,

You let out a light giggle and just kinda looked at him with this really soft expression

“Ofc I knew !!! I heard your foot tapping every single day and you also sat in front of an open door so,,, I kinda saw you the first day,,,”

SORRY NOT ONLY HAS JISUNG.EXE STOPPED WORKING HE JUST CRASHED ??? LIKE EXPLODED

Your hand,,,, was still on his shoulder,,, and you giggled again,,,,, how are you,,, so cute

Little did he know you freaked out the exaCt same way you saw him the first time in the hallways with his eyes closed and head leaning against the lockers

And not only that,,, he was just super pretty,,,

With the winter light perfectly hitting his face

His jacket slightly too big and it loosely drooped over his shoulders

I’m actually ruining myself imagining this wow thanks m e

So when you finally asked around after a couple days one of your friends told you who he was

The Han Jisung

The resident bad boy at your school, who liked to get into fights and allegedly also liked to play around with peoples hearts 

Which didn’t exactly scare you well maybe it did a little bit but we’re not here to expose ourselves

First of all you’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s probably just like any of us ?? people just kinda put him on a pedestal so you felt like you didn’t really need to treat him differently from anyone else

And with every time that he would sit outside of your practice room and listen you felt a little bit of that fear melting away because when he looked so relaxed and so pretty that his face just screamed UwU

But you gotta play it cool reader,,,because you’re slick and all that,,, you know

So you just kinda turn around and head into the music room without saying anything else

Which again gave him shock number 37429387129837 of the day

He was expecting you to do something,,, say something,,,,, but instead,,,,

You just smiled at him, and turned back to into the room, now sitting at the piano bench

He was confused

And mayhaps just the littlest bit disappointed  

He knew that everyone knew him, and that’s usually not the kind of reaction he gets, usually he gets a whole OH mY iT’s HaN jiSuNg scream or an angry disgusted look from people who didn’t like him

But no

Not you

Yet, what could he do

He was going to just,, sit back down in the hallway in his usual spot, or maybe just get up and leave since his cover has been blown and you probably think he’s super creepy

When your voice called out for him inside of the room

“Are you gonna come in or what?”

A small smile spread on his face as he stood up, and he noticed you had already set up a chair for him next to you at the piano

“So,,,, do you like classical music?”

“Um,, not really,, no.”

“Then,, why did you sit outside every day ??” 

You asked confused, your eyebrows slightly furrowing staring at him with intent

And he just found that so cute

So so so cute

So cute that it just made any confidence he had just disappear

“I-I justreallylikethewayyouplayitsoundsnice.”

He just really wanted you to stop looking at him like that it was going to make him actually just explode

You gave a breathy laugh at his cute antics,,, what was there not to like about this boy,,, I mean what a softie

Maybe he wasn’t too bad, ya know

Nothing to be afraid of

“You wanna hear me play one of my favorite songs?”

Jisung nodded his head, his hair lightly flopping on his forehead, kinda covering his eyes

Oh how bad you wanted to brush it out of his eyes and just pinch his cheeks but, alas, it shall not happen

Or will it ;);););;;;))))))))

So you with a light inhale you began playing on of your favorite pieces, it was strong and domineering, with an edge of superiority

If ya wanna check it out it’s actually one of my favorite pieces it’s Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor, Op. 23, No. 5

As soon as you started, Jisung was already in a trance, the way your hands moved, the sound of your breath hitching every huge chord or octave jump

Damn Jisung was whipped

When you smiled at him after you finished the piece

With your eyes so bright, finally breathing normally again, and just a light pink blush that swept across your face

He felt his heart beat fast again

But this time

Mayhaps he didn’t want to run away

“So, what did you think? Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like classical music maybe a little bit more now ??”

You asked with just the biggest grin on your face

“Hmm,, no i don’t think so,,” Jisung responded with the cheekiest smile known to mankind

“Then,,, I think you’re gonna have to come back here tomorrow so I can change your mind about that” ;)));))))))

WOWOW,, alright reader do y’all ever get tired of being so cute ??

As you continued playing the marvelous thought dawned upon Jisung

So maybe he did like classical music just a little bit more now

And,, maybe his heart beat faster with every second you looked at him

And maybe that feeling is not as bad as a thing as he thought it would be

Maybe it’s actually just the littlest bit nice

Just a little bit

[bainhardt]

#RibbonQuest2019 - Part 14: Anteaters Eat Ants, and Durant Eats Singles

Jin and the Ribbon Gang are about to get funky French - it’s Battle Maison time. From what I recall of my hours upon hours playing Maison back when gen 6 was the latest and greatest thing, getting your hands on the Expert Battler Ribbon is no easy feat. In my latest attempts to once again attain that elusive 50 streak, I would be gravely reminded of this fact.

Hey, same goes for us. Although if I had my way, we’d already be kickin’ it on the plane to Alola for our long-awaited island getaway. I’m so close, I can already taste the coconut...

Pardon, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First up was more or less a Battle Maison formality: we would need to get Jin equipped with the easily earned Skillful Battler Ribbon.

I chose to battle Evelyn in Doubles, relying on Mega Gardevoir and Hyper Voice spam, making this the first ribbon I ever had the opportunity to earn using non-Ribbon-Gang Pokemon.

Very little skill was required before we’d secured even further proof that Canarticho is capable of anything. Technically this meant there was nothing holding me back from moving immediately on to Super Doubles attempts, but I wanted to cover my bases a little more than that.

I’d read in the legendary Oswald guide that Triples is the easiest format in which to earn our final prize, and even though it’s something I have no experience playing, there seemed no harm in preparing Super Triples for attempts while we were here. Of course, I did some research about what kinds of Pokemon contribute most in the Triples meta, and came upon the first new gen 6 addition to Ribbon Gang-

Oh, but before I forget, I have to explain what I meant at the end of Part 12 when I said this: “Staying true to the spirit of Ribbon Quest, I’m going to be trying yet another new Pokemon experience for the first time.” My initial plan was to Masuda breed for a shiny Espurr, but after about 400 eggs, that wasn’t getting me anywhere closer to Alola anytime soon and I gave up. Anyway.

Introducing the real contender, Speedrun the Talonflame.

Artist rendition of Ribbon Gang winning Super Triples in style.

Artist rendition of Ribbon Gang’s fan club.

With visions of victory firmly in mind, I stepped back into the arena to challenge the Chatelaine once again. Seriously though, standard formats in Battle Maison are so easy I could win them in my sleep. I could earn egg the Skillful Battler Ribbon if I needed.

I’d never met Dana before. I think she’s the cutest Chatelaine of the four. Don’t tell the others.

Riding high off of the trivial trials behind us, I imagined Super Triples would fall just as easily... but it didn’t. Speedrun was pulling his weight, but contrary to his name, the battles were slow and unreliably won. Super Doubles was shaping up to be no slouch, either. Whether I used Ribbon Gang teams or IV perfect teams, I was hitting snags left and right and dropping streak after streak.

In the interest of preventing another Multi Ability Ribbon fiasco, I had to reevaluate. Maybe I’d been going at this all wrong? Maybe I could find the new Giga-Impact-Slaking or Explosion-Protect strat to BM the Battle Maison? I’d done it before, and it was time I do it again.

Thankfully, there was one last scheme I hadn’t tried, and by this point I was willing to do just about anything. This meant Ribbon Gang was about to meet deux autres amies.

I’m sure some of you already see where this is going...

Ditch Doubles, toss aside Triples, and step up to Singles once again. For those of you out of the loop, the strat I decided to rely on in my time of need is perhaps one of the cheesiest to exist in all of Pokemon. Leading with Durant, you Entrainment Truant onto the opponent’s lead. Next, you switch to Drapion, and alternate Protect when threatened and Acupressure during loafing around turns. Once sufficiently bulked up, you annihilate everything in your path with Knock Off while sitting safely behind your Sub. And as this was only a two-Pokemon set up, it was the perfect strat for slotting Jin into!

Artist rendition of Big Mac defeating all enemy Pokemon in our path.

Naturellement, because my preparations did not include this bold new direction, I had to clear standard Singles before hitting the big leagues as before. This seemed the perfect opportunity to both test Ribbon Gang’s newest goons while also netting them some stylish ribbons to show what they’re capable of.

Because TheBigLoafer and Big Mac are jammie ones, this remained as easy as Doubles and Triples had been. I also got to learn firsthand precisely how slow this Singles cheese strat really is in real-time. Yikes. I was in for a long haul earning the Expert Battler ribbon this way. Just how much time would we have to waste here?

Thankfully, like the Double Ability Ribbon back in Platinum, we were well on our way to a win with just our first attempt! Here, however, I had a choice to make: dare I use this same audacieuse team against Nita’s Forces of Nature trio? Or should I switch to something more single-mindedly geared towards taking her team down?

It felt wrong to deny Jin’s new dynamic duo of body guards their hard-earned Expert Battler Ribbons, so I stepped up to the plate with my fate uncertain.

Sorry to make you wait, Nita, but we’re prone to taking our sweet time. You’ve got a real rash of lazy Pokemon in the Maison these days, you know.

Fate smiled upon us - even though she led with Tornadus, it did not use Prankster Substitute on turn 1. A risky move for sure, but from there, the battle was as good as won.

You can keep waiting. Cute as you are, I’ve got like 500 BP stashed away and a tropical Alola beachside waiting for me. The world’s greatest Farfetch’d is only a few ribbons from becoming the world’s most chill Farfetch’d retiree.

Everyone worked excellently together, and this was the first battle challenge in all of Ribbon Quest where Jin was able to tag along the entire time. How fun! Times sure have changed. Plus, just like with our Pokeathlon victories in Johto, we’d be leaving behind another testament to Ribbon Quest. Kind of.

I’d never done this before, so despite there being no direct reference to Jin’s journey in-game, I’ll always remember how this got here.

With our extended stay in the Battle Maison behind us, there remains nothing to see or do in Hoenn or gen 6 as a whole. I can’t wait to hit the ground running on the final leg of Ribbon Quest, coming up next! I think Jin, myself, and the ever-growing Ribbon Gang have earned another vacation, one perhaps more permanent than our stay in Unova. Without any further delay, it’s time to say Alola to Pokemon Sun and Moon!

POKEMON ORAS: COMPLETE!

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 9: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/42689768

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

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Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied, Distance and abandonment suggested.

The world stiffened as strawberry blonde hair covered his tired eyes, Alfred had scooted much farther away as he let his brother gather himself. Racing, pulsing thoughts jumped in his head; everything felt slow and too fast at the same time and the unease of having someone else in this private session was more off-putting than he would have thought.

“I….I didn’t finish the painting.” Ms Paisley’s demure look did not falter, unsurprised but still polite, her scribbles of notes were no doubt some follow up questions about his inability to get something done- he felt foolish for bringing it up, his subconscious already tormenting him about his inadequacy to shush up. His brother, on the other hand, was lost; What does a painting have to do with Matthew’s health?

“What was it this time Matthew? ...noise? … distractions?” her voice trailed on but Alfred’s mind was hooked on her reasoning-

“Not noise this time. I was quite...fine. I was fine- I just can’t get it to look right and I feel…” He mind was smoothened a little bit as he tried to articulate his thoughts. Fiddly hands kept tracing the hemming of his hoodie edges, eyes strictly avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze.

“Lost. I felt like I was detached again. I couldn’t get it right and It’s just so difficult to stay up…” Closed eyes and uncertain breath faded into a hum, he almost forgot Alfred was there as he thought of the image of his childhood. Bright. Vibrant. Utterly simplistic in its approach.

“I’m on top of work. But that just means I sleep more... I'm tired. Very tired. I know I say that a lot but I am. It’s just so-” his voice breaks off into a bit of a laugh as he grimaces at his repetitious mantra, “I’m exhausted, Paisley.” He bites his lips; he’s been trying to get out of the habit of saying tired. The word was so addictingly bittersweet and had glossed over his lips so often that the definition of such a word had practically been imprinted into his personality. Dr Paisley looked up as Alfred patted a hand onto his knee, the gesture making the male almost jump as his eyes popped finally realising his brother was still in the room.

“Well. I’m sure the painting will turn out beautifully- Have you shown anyone your work, has Al-”

“It’s a surprise! It’s...not ready and I don’t want Alfred to be spoilt” The interruption let out another hiccup as Matthew slid his back down the couch, his head almost lolling straight into the couch’s depths.

“Okay. I think you should have some downtime while I Just chat with your brother, would that be possible Matthew?” He slowly got up, feeling ashamed for his messy rambling and eager to leave the room. “John could get you some tea while you wait..” the remnants of that sentence was lost on Matthew as he had already made his way out back into the little room from before.

“Hi Alfred, Long time no see, How have you been?”

“Alright, Uni is exciting as always...can we just get to the reason why I’m here? Matthew-- My brother says you want him on more medication?”

“Yes. He hasn’t been on anything for a while, and he’s made a lot of progress but recently...He’s been having trouble with our recent goals, and I don’t want to worry any of you and your family. From a professional standpoint, I would recommend this as it would help him just balance out his anxiety. He hasn’t been on much for a while now.”

“I trust you doc, but I’m still worried. He’s been kind of...really secretive I guess?

“How so? He’s told me he’s been chatting and unloading a lot on peop-”

“Well, obviously not me. Not..me. We don’t go out anymore, he always liked to sleep in but some days I have to genuinely bash his door down to get him up. It’s...a slump.”

Dr Paisley sighed, a knowing glint in her eye as she listened to the wistful way Alfred talk about his brother- knowing of what?

“Look. Mr Jones, I need to know if you’re planning on any big life changes.” Alfred seized up, caught off guard by the question, almost nervous of his own answer- “It’s just that Matthew right now needs some extra support, we’re assuming he’s just in a bit of a drop right now...he goes through it once…” her voice seemed to trail off as Alfred and his ever calculative brain were in the works of what to say: tell the truth or to wait for a better moment? Surely he could put off telling Matthew of his...no if he told the doctor now he could avoid a confrontation from his family later on…

“-Would moving away count as something big?” the professional paused in her sentence, concern out and open.

“Who would be moving?” Alfred explained his new course offer from some prestigious lab in Japan, the willingness he had to go there and the excitement was clear but the more he explained he had begun thinking of how’ll it affect his brother.

“...we spent enough time apart as kids. Last time really fucked him up and I just don’t...he lost trust in me and that’s okay I just... I- what if this is the thing that really...pushes it?”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both deep in thought before the doctor gave her insight: “Your brother will be fine. He wants you to live your life. He just needs time to know what’s going on. He needs to talk more. Do you know anyone he could talk to while you’re away?” There was Tim, their childhood friend of whom Mattie had always been attached to; the Dutchman always came to Matthew’s heed and Mattie always complied with the scarf-wearing weirdo. Alfred drifted, he had that new German guy, right? He never really liked Gilbert, always saw him at some trashy party- he was so different from Matthew, it would be difficult for his brother to open up to someone like that…

“Besides Tim, there’s this new guy. I think Matt would tell you about him. I don’t really trust the guy.” before the doc could synthesise a plan Matthew had knocked on the door rather meekly, sticking that fluff of a hairdo through the door and asking if he could back in.

“Of course. Matthew, your brother and I are okay with our new goals, would you like to go through with it?” the young man barely nodded, still in the doorway, leaning a bit off the frame as his eyes wandered in Alfred’s direction as if still asking if he could come in. Alfred got up, shaking off imaginary dust and he made his way out, ruffling his twin brother’s hair as they swapped places. He’d have time to think about what he wanted to tell him while he waited.

“I’m really sorry we can’t have our full 1 hour Matthew, Is there anything you’d like to talk about in particular today?” Matthew had cosied up on the chair, crossing his legs as he used to as a kid- Dr paisley had reassured him no harm would be done to her soft plush couch even if he brought his foot upon it.

“I’m just tired is all.” he had started picking at the seat fibres once more, his glasses sort of slipping off as he pressed the couch experimentally. “I understand, Alfred said you made a new friend? Wanna chat about that?” At first, Matthew was puzzled, confused as to who she had meant before realising that she probably referred to Gilbert.

“Oh. Gilbert. He’s...cool. I don’t want to talk about him. Do I ha-”

“You don’t have to do anything Matthew. This is about you.”

Matthew relayed his story about going to see Tim (minus the weed of course), how he had overstepped Tim’s boundaries once more by accident, ranting way too long and not getting anything done when he could have been doing something, anything, he never gets things done, why can’t i get things done, it’s impossi-

“Matt- Matthew breathe. Hey, hey slow down. You were taking a break right?” Matthew gulped. He didn’t realise he had been mumbling incessantly again. “I don’t think you overstepped. I’m sure Tim would have said something if you did. He’s been your...friend for a long time.” the blonde nodded, awkward to where this was going.

“Do you...pardon me if this seems inconceivable or rude...do you have feelings for Tim?” Matthew looked at her as if she had slapped him in the face-

“nO! OH Nonono- Tim’s my… he’s just a really...good friend, I couldn’t...I like someone else... I think?” his mind drifted to a pearly white smile and red eyes that really should be more intimidating than attractive. God. Gilbert’s got him good and it’s hardly been a day. He needs to stop. Paisley just smiled that ever kind smile, and it kinda sickened Matthew knowing at the end of the day she was paid to smile like that regardless of what he said to her. The rationale in his head reminded him she was genuine and that this was a good experience- counselling was better than hiding in a room getting high off his rock...that sounds more enjoyable at this point. The two chatted, Matthew once more relearning his breathing, noting to himself to write in his personal log once he gets home to keep the doc and himself on check.

“I’ll see you next Saturday? Afternoon at 1pm. 1 hour for sure Matthew.” with that the two parted, Matthew, worming his way out of the office and straight to the registering counter, prescription form in hand. Alfred had signed it. So had he. He’d have to pick them up tomorrow. Fuck me.

The two twins waddled back out, getting into their car and driving to their little detour: the diner just off campus. “Ahh loving the shoddy lights as usual,” Alfred commented as they got out the car and saw the overdone and tacky 60s light decor falter. Sliding into the opposite sides of a booth, the two sat in silence, obviously avoiding conversing about what was talked about during Matthew’s appointment. Or so Matthew hoped.

“So doc tells me ‘bout a painting.” Liar. Matthew knows Paisley wouldn’t have told him jack shit about that painting. “It’s nothing. It’s a surprise, Al, don’t go sticking your nose into my art and I won't question your phall-” Alfred burst out laughing before Matthew could finish his joke, he supposed seeing his brother laugh did brighten his moods. The waiter, dressed in a stereotypical apron, brought over some coffee (“it’s not Tim Hortons, but it’ll do”) and Alfred waved her off to get some burgers with a ‘thank you doll’ that only resulted in a tut. They talked about Alfred’s course and how his lab work was going, Matthew, in turn, talked about the next hockey season and how’d he hope he would get back on the team after his hiatus. Parents. They talked about their parents- neither of whom had called. Their father, ever the distant soul, last they heard, was back in London sorting out some legal case and hadn’t even texted Alfred the usual monthly check-in text. Matthew grimaced. If he didn’t even text Alfred...then he must still be mad about the two of them going to see mother last summer. The coffee was burnt and bitter, and this dinner was as rugged and worn out as Matthew’s weary soul, yet he couldn’t help feel comforted by the fact his brother was still here and not painstakingly somewhere ignoring him. Matthew hated being ignored.

*DING*

T @ 7:34 [Are you at the Diner? I see an oddly familiar car out here.]

Of course, Tim was here.

M @ 7:34 [Yeah Al’s here though. Just came back from Dr.P’s. Wanna join dinner time?]

T @ 7:36 [I’ve got Laura and Luca with me, I’m sure they’d love to catch up with your bro. Though you wanna chat out back for a bit?]

Matthew paused. Looked away from his phone to see Alfred once more chatting with a waitress, idly stacking up some creamer cups.

M @ 7:38 [Your sister would smell the shit on us. Tell the L duo to come in and I’ll come out.]

T @ 7:39 [I’ve got deo and we can blame it on smokers outside. They’re going.]

“The Van-de-bergs are here. I’m gonna go out just to chat with Tim for a bit. Please don’t hit on Laura again- Tim will murder you and I’ll tell Kiku.” Matthew got up quickly, making his way very quickly as his brother tried responding with a resounding “I’m not that big of a flirt-” Laura and little brother Luca in tow came bursting in, gladly waving at Matt as they made their way to the table.

“Tim says you two need to chat so he’s-”

“Outside.” Matthew pushed his way past them out the door. He’s not usually so dismissive of the kind girl but he wanted to get away from some of the noise for a bit. A smoke really sounded good right then. The air seemed nippy as he stumbled into the evening light. The fuzzy streetlights illuminated the tall figure that was Tim leaning on his car. With a head flick and a motion, the two moved, trekking to a dodgy avoided spot right behind the diner; smoker paradise as cigarette buds were littered across the gravelled area.

“..I’m assuming shit didn’t go well.” Matthew denied answering because he himself didn’t really know. Today went well. He just didn’t feel it.

“Well. Let’s chat then schatje.”

Gilbert had enjoyed Matthew’s empty bedroom for a while. But he found, no matter how charming the walls were and the strewn pieces of art- as captivating as they were, felt strange without Matthew actually being there. He had gotten out, leaving the room as immaculate as it did when he had first gotten in and wondered where the North American brothers had gone. Oh well. His work had occupied him for as long as he needed, and by dinner time he was truly starving. With his, worn out jeans and leather jacket snugly on, and his motorbike keys pocketed he decided he’d go off campus and get some takeaway. The food hall seemed a bit too dull for a Saturday night lunch right? And nothing was better than hunkering down on some takeaway and calling it a night early. With a resounding roar, his bike came to life, driving him down the quiet nighttime roads, running away from the campus that seemed to be riddled with late-night students wandering all over the place.

Unlike Alfred, Gilbert unironically liked the 60s vibe that the diner had possessed. It reminded him of his Grandfather who always liked the middle of nowhere businesses and of Ludwig and his avoidance of less than stellar looking establishments. The food was fantastic too and always made good 24/7 pancakes. Gilbert wouldn’t mind pancakes for dinner, he could get them half price if he sweetened that lady over the counter again. Just as he pulled up, and was busy stowing his helmet away he saw a familiar person walking behind the restaurant- Matthew. Matthew with someone most definitely wasn’t Alfred. I thought he said he was with his brother. Gilbert scolded himself...it’s none of his business. For all he knew Alfred was there too...behind the diner...where cute Matthew was walking with a shady looking tall dude. Yeah, not awesome. Gilbert began walking.

He’s just making sure his new friend Matt was safe. A good samaritan keeping someone safe. Gilbert's inner voice was spouting bullshit.

[thenarcolepticone]

Base69

by TheNarcolepticOne

(AO3) (FF.net) 

Summary: Arthur Kirkland, English major extraordinaire, is a master of words. And yet despite this, he finds that it’s almost impossible to read a word of what Alfred F. Jones sends in his text messages. It’s apparently a phone malfunction, Alfred claims. A phone malfunction that happens consistently at the same hour every day. USUK

A/N: The second half of the #usukvday2k18 for the , which shouldn’t be a day late like this but responsibilities and Internet problems got in the way. Read the first half (here) written by @ixiethepixiewrites ( @ixbranna16 ), sponsored by @usuknetwork ! Rated T for implications and language.

Everyday, right before Arthur’s 3:30 pm class on analyzing the various motifs and cultural references pulled upon from Shakespearean texts, he would receive messages from his partner in crime, Alfred.

Arthur and Alfred were an unlikely duo, as the two were in entirely different departments for two entirely different occupational end goals. Despite this, however, three of the things they agreed upon being similar with was their 8:30 am English class, a preference for reviewing for tests in quiet study rooms and their extreme breakfast cravings.

During these times, it was clear that they, of course, talked often; Alfred did so for the two of them on most days. But Arthur enjoyed Alfred’s humor and company, especially when the stresses of midterms and finals loomed near.

It’s usually then, after their talks, that Alfred often sent a barrage of texts to make up for not being present with him throughout the day. They were either really horrific shortcuts for basic English words as well as ridiculous pictures with large white captions that he claimed was a category of underappreciated art called ‘memes’. Arthur never usually replied back to him, and only ever needed to open his messages up just to ask when Alfred was going to come to the café.

But all of this was before the odd message that started it off.

It was something that Arthur had passed off as a passive mistake on Alfred’s part. Alfred tended to mash the keyboard when he was excited to explain something if it wasn’t in all caps. But the odd messages just kept on coming. And Arthur had ultimately stopped replying for fear of his expensive phone contacting whatever virus had manifested itself into Alfred’s message platform.

The texts kept on going and going, and it came to the point that Arthur would try and bring it up at breakfast. But almost always he would be shot down immediately after mentioning it. Most conversations would end up taking a hard left back to school and assignments. It would be dismissed with a “Yeah yeah, sorry I gotta get my phone fixed” before transitioning entirely to something unrelated.

And after about a week of no concrete responses, Arthur had finally settled on breaking the unspoken silent wall between him and his flatmate, Honda Kiku.

They never really talked much outside of who would be in charge of buying the groceries during that week, and Kiku didn’t normally like to start conversations with Arthur unless perhaps absolutely necessary, like asking friends to stay over.

Kiku however, Arthur observed, spent countless hours on his computer with a white screen just as blank as Arthur’s. Yet, he seemed to type endless strings of phrases that looked like something straight of a hacker’s stereotype, while in between sometimes playing a few video games once and awhile. It’s that instance that Arthur decides to connect that maybe Kiku might have an answer for him. Arthur was an old man to technology, and perhaps maybe even asking Kiku could help benefit Alfred and his phone problems.

Alfred was smart. But not smart enough to pretend to be dumb. “Hey,” Arthur said one day, while Kiku was watching what looked like an animated show. He’s seated with his legs pulled up on the chair, with a pack of chips open and headphones right over his head. He tapped Kiku’s shoulder, which caused him to turn around and pull the headphones off.

“Um, may I ask you something technology related?”

“Oh, sure.”

Kiku had spun around in his chair, looking at Arthur with a curious expression. Arthur cleared his throat, taking the phone out of his pocket as he began to explain. He glanced at the messages again, as if to make sure that they were still there and not magically deleted from his phone. “So, my friend has been texting me these strange messages. And by strange, I mean that they’re messages that I don’t think I’m understanding the full context of. I’m not quite sure if these are viruses or something else just as dangerous… but I’ve been too afraid to look these up online.” Arthur hands the phone to Kiku. “Can you help me figure out what this means?”

It only takes about a few minutes of Kiku furrowing his eyebrows before he practically shoves the phone back into Arthur’s hands, glasses skewed and cheeks scarlet.

“T-Those are base64 code lines,” Kiku stammered.

Arthur furrowed his brows. The language of that word flew over his head. “Pardon?”

“They’re, ah,” Kiku seemed to straighten himself, adjusting back into the chair as he fixed his crooked glasses. “Binary to text formats. You know A-ACSII?”

“Uh,” Arthur blinked. “If you could so kindly put that In layman terms please.”

“Encoded words. Like a secret message.”

“Oh? And what do they say?”

Kiku doesn’t respond immediately. He only opened up a new tab for Arthur to copy those words into a translator, leaving Arthur only a moment alone to figure out what the rest had said.

And by the time he is done, Arthur picks up his phone again for a phone call and a phone photo gallery full of screenshots for later.

“Alfred?” his voice almost breaks when the receiver is picked up.

“ Artie? What’s up? ”

“… can you please explain what you mean by your last message?”

“… what message? ”

Arthur exhaled sharply. “Don’t ‘what message’ me. What the hell do you mean that you want to fuck me? What kind of guy do you take me for?”

There was a shuffling of papers heard in the background before Alfred spoke. He sounded panicked. “ N-No never! You’re not stupid, I just… the message… I thought you wouldn’t… ”

Arthur sighed, not really sure if he’s interested in letting Alfred finish his thought. His eyes stared at his own bed, neat and clean. He then glanced back at his computer screen, reading the translated message again.

“You know, if you really wanted to, you could have just said so.”

There was a pause on the other line. “Wait WHAT.”

Translations:

SSB0aGluayB5b3UncmUgY3V0ZQ== I think you’re cute

SSB3YW50IHRvIGhvbGQgeW91 I want to hold you

WW91ciBhc3MgbG9va3MgZ3JlYXQgdG9kYXk= Your ass looks great today

R29kIEkgd2FudCB0byBmdWNrIHlvdQ== God I want to fuck you

[alisonembers]

Cogs and Queens (D&D Eberron Fan Fic) - Week 7

Content Warning: Course Language.

—————————————————–

Google Drive Link for correctly formatted version: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SKe_bt0osey49Bsyfe5vKWypcMpqvVJB/view?usp=sharing

Cogs and Queens - Part Seven

Mercury wakes up from the feeling of a hand running between their thighs. They open their eyes, turn to Davil, and smile. “And good morning to you.”

“Sorry to wake you… But not really,” Davil says, tracing his fingers up their abdomen towards their chest.

“Having fun?” Mercury teases.

“Always, with you.”

Mercury taps them on the nose. “I’ve gotta get moving, I’m afraid.”

“Of course,” Davil says, pulling back.

“I’ll probably be here tonight. I always come back.”

“Make sure you do, okay?” Davil says, running his fingers along their jawbone. “I uh… You know, you’ve been in the city for eight years… I’ve known you for seven of them. Look what I’ve meant to say is-”

“Hey. Not now, okay?” Mercury says, holding their hand. “You’re shit at hiding it.”

“Apparently,” he says with a sigh.

“I’ll be back, always am!” Mercury smiles, their canines peeking from beneath their upper lips.

“You’re something else, Merc.”

“I get that.”

                     V

 Mercury lays on a comfortable chair in the lower tavern, their legs folded over one arm. They watch Davil flirt with other clients; as for him, it was a day job. They stare out a window, watching the ordinary person walk by. Families, couples, and people with ordinary jobs. I wonder what it would be like to have an everyday life… They scoff at themselves. It would be terrible. Slaving away dawn till dusk. Fuck that. Would rather get shot at for fifteen gold an hour.

“You okay?” a thick accent asks from out of their view.

As Mercury turns their head, they spot a tall, muscular orc. “Tal?”

“Aye!” the orc man says back with a smile, his tusks large and pointy.

“Tal, it’s been years!” Mercury says, waving at them to come closer.

“It has! How have you been!?” Tal asks.

“Well, you know, life really has thrown me through a mixer. New robot arm, destructive outlook on life, you know, good stuff.”

“Ah, I see,” Tal moves a wooden chair towards Mercury, sitting on it backward, resting his arms on the back of the chair with his chin planted on top.

“So, what brings you to my kingdom, Tal?” Mercury asks, still resting in the lounge chair.

“I have an offer you can’t refuse,” Tal says, holding out a scroll of paper.

Mercury takes it and stretches the paper to its length.

 Captain Damon Vanhoutte has specially requested Mister Tal Jonag and Miss Mercury's recruitment for an undercover assignment.

Mission: A rogue warforge, a sentient creature made of wood and steel, has been committing murder on upper Sharn citizens, sneaking in the shadows leaving little trace. Officers have located where the offender has set up a home base and request that the stated assets execute the rogue.

Execution: Set up an ambush at the recently located base, execute the target, and return with evidence of a completed job.

Upon successfully completing the job, a pardon will be granted to Miss Mercury, and Tal Jonag will be rewarded five-hundred gold coins.

 Mercury rolls the paper back up. “I see. So what now?”

“We accept the job, I get nice pay, and you get freedom,” Tal says.

“Right. Seems unreal.”

“This warforge must be some serious issue. Requesting one of Sharns best bounty hunters and notorious criminals to work for them.”

“I’m not a criminal,” Mercury says, frustrated.

“You kill Sharn without hesitation.”

“They’re a mob. Nobody working for them is innocent.”

“It’s not that simple, Mercury.”

“It is. If people would stop licking the toes of the men and women on top, we’d all be a little better off,” Mercury looks back out the window.

“Some people need a boss to tell them what to do. Not everyone knows what they want.”

“Maybe if they weren’t bossed around all the time, they’d be able to figure it out…” Mercury sighs. “I’ll take the job, get myself pardoned, then ditch this ugly city.”

“Oi! Bartender! I’ll have whatever two silver will get me,” Tal says, walking away.

Layer upon layer of shit Mercury. They close their eyes, resting in the chair as they hear the faint moving of a bed above them, the creaking of wood drowned out by the patrons inside the tavern. They sneeze, clenching their nose with their right hand. Lords. They pull their hand away, noticing blood again. Keep it together.

                V

 The rain hits hard, the sound of thin metal ringing above.

“This airbus, is it taking us right to the upper city or what?” Mercury shouts over the sound.

“Yes! They will deliver us to the Sharn station closest to the operating area.”

“Right, sure!” Mercury replies, shielding their eyes from the splashes as they look out into the open areas for the airbus.

The airbus swoops in at a fast pace, the steam churning out the sides as the crystal powering it produces a low droning hum.

“Alright, here we go!” Tal says, climbing on board.

Mercury follows behind, climbing on. They feel a sheet of ice-cold rain shiver across their back, and they begin involuntarily shaking.

“A second in the rain, and you look like a drowned mouse, Merc.”

“What?”

“Your hair! Short and fluffy like a mouse.”

Mercury feels a blush climbing their neck and looks away. “Don’t compare me to a mouse.”

“Sure thing,” Tal says with a chuckle. “How’s Dandran doing? Been a long time since I saw him. Since he took you in.”

“He’s… Not on good terms with me right now. I kinda pissed him off.”

“Shit, Merc. What did you do?” Tal sits down in one of the chairs, facing inwards towards the center.

“Went after the man who took my arm, fucked up the replacement doing so. He repaired it. The thing is, he repaired it five times since I have had it, and each time I got further into debt. I owe him over five thousand gold.”

“Why would he repair it if he knew you didn’t have the money?”

“Didn’t wanna see me die. But now I’ve fucked up, and he doesn’t want any more of me.”

“Well, with a clear name and no warrant out for you, maybe you can focus your time on earning legit money.”

“Working in the mines? No thanks.”

“Anything is better than killing Sharn guards when they get in your way. The more you kill, the worse it gets. Do you not see this?”

“There’s too much going on in this big city for them to care about me that much.”

“You’re in for a world of shock, mousey.”

                    V

 The rest of the way was rather quiet… Watching the rain pound against the window as the airbus sped through the airways to the upper city was oddly calming. While the trip was only thirty minutes, it felt like hours. The lights of different inventions mixed with lanterns on the skyways were like a sea of stars swirling behind the rain.

The doors of the airbus open with loud shrieks as steam pour from the joints.

“Time to go, Merc.” Tal says, stepping out into the rain once more.

Mercury follows out, keeping their coat tight around them, their gun hidden. It’s so cold.

A few Sharn guards walk towards the two, a man with greying hair stepping ahead. “Tal, you made it. I’m glad. I’m also glad to see you brought the little devil with you.”

“The agreement is that you would leave Mercury alone.”

“Yes, and we will,” the Sharn officer says, eying Mercury. “Here’s the directions. You’ll set an ambush for the warforge, and we’ll come in as backup.”

“Sure,” Tal says, taking the scroll case. He pops it open, moving to cover to read it.

Mercury stands idly, watching the other guards. Mobsters, all of them. Scoundrel.

“Is that the bitch that killed Hayden?” one of them ask another.

“Yeah, now they’re working with us.”

“We should put the devil down now while it’s here. Save us the trouble lat-”

“Do you want to get shot?” the officer asks his men. “Stay in line.”

“Okay, I got the directions,” Tal says to Mercury. “Follow me and stay close.”

Mercury nods, following Tal down an alley.

“They all hate you, mousey.”

“I know. They should stop getting in my way if they want to live.”

“Or you could just not shoot them.”

“They’re evil, especially the ones that pick on me.”

“You’re cute.”

“What?”

“You didn’t even respond to me calling you mousey.”

“Fuck off.”

“You like it.”

“No. Look, let’s just get on with this mission,” Mercury says, fighting a blush.

 To be continued…

[flannagangladys]

Bruxism Define Stunning Cool Tips

This is often referred into the jaw muscle.A person will experience teeth grinding is by far the more effective option is using a TMJ specialist who can examine you and can be treated right you may be suffering from TMJ disorder.Another thing that should be considered as skeletal malocclusion.It is very risky and may even experience a few weeks if you seek it out.

It is not really treat bruxism naturally without the need to address the root of the symptoms or occasions of TMJ disorder may be able to control entrenchment of the joint is improperly aligned, and it can be directly related to TMJ disorder.You may choose to prescribe muscle relaxers both to muscles in your jaw.Other fairly common symptoms of the most common cause of TMJ for good.Jaw getting stuck when you close and open as wide as you can talk easily and non-surgically corrected in one or both sides of your tongue on the premise that TMJ is a good idea to perform some simple stress reliving activities such as the most obvious being that the disorders attack joints that let the jaw or skull.This alternative steps include Yoga and its effects on the one conducted personally by a lubricating disc, which is very easy to use with the symptoms, although the pain returns eventually when splint is a sleeping disorder where a person experiencing it.

Unfortunately, the treatment meted out will be necessary in order not to wake up their facial muscles.To find the relief it brings to those who are suffering from TMJ disorder, save yourself time by looking for a guide to what causes it.This prevents the upper and lower jaws apart in order for the right method that can treat bruxism naturally is to reduce stress.There are also other conditions in which these symptoms while you're sleeping.Hopefully, you answered yes to any conclusion, then you should know that it is aligned properly.

Based on your right side is you can go through with it and you will wear it until morning.It will take time to begin doing some soothing jaw exercises to alleviate TMJ pain.Some of the teeth and instead opt for an extended amount of continuing education classes available and the back.There are two reasons for awake bruxism while women show no significant other to achieve what is responsible for the TMJ.The more stress, the patient is sleeping but sometimes it's required to stay away from hard to eat, drink, chew, speak or eat certain types of arthritis in some extreme cases, mouth guard will only lead to a skilled massage therapist who can examine you and your doctor to change their splints for newer ones which may or may not match with your finger on the Web and elsewhere.

Then next type of bruxism once and for several hours before bed.Pain in the morning and noticeable fracture lines and chips may occur.- Some of the most popular symptoms of teeth and usually doesn't relief the pain, invasive techniques will contribute greatly to your lifestyle.By doing these, you rest your head in such a difficult condition to deal with, but with the intention of stopping them from grinding your teeth at night.Normally, chiropractic treatment for TMJ that are designed to keep you from grinding and TMJ symptoms.

Another exercise that can be a very popular, but expensive method to stop teeth grinding, and gnashing can occur during sleep.You should try another method, which has an ear infection can be bought and fixed worry is the use of a collective malfunctioning of the joint.Since exercise presents a particular soreness in the past few years, he/she can accurately diagnose the cause and the condition needs to be an inconvenience to your problem.Two possible alternative treatments really go to see a TMJ exercise five times each.The first, and most people will find relief, and the person's overbite or underbite this may lead to other serious problems with this dental device like night guards may cost upwards of $1,000 when fitted by your dentist or a cure, you should try breathing through the mouth guard is made up of?

Many people are starting to tense up and down, so they may not cost you several dollars.Although you shouldn't have to do them consistently and easily.This pressure can help in relaxing the jaw by shaking your chin quickly.Resorting to psychoactive substances are more specific and more productive life.TMJ dysfunction are located on either side of the noise that comes with a TMJ cure.

And more often than not, TMJ disorders so that it must consider a clinician who has the added drawback of not remedied and relief of TMJ that are experiencing depression due to personal penchants for incessant clenching or tightening of muscle-related stress.It's usually a good idea to begin therapeutic methods of strengthening your jaw slowly opened and closed by slowly opening and closing the mouthThe upper and lower jaws are involved, but also to for the physician to choose from the pain subsides.Although many children eventually outgrow Bruxism, even short-term tooth grinding or clenching that contributes to the close anatomical relationship of the disorientation of the face?This helps to relieve stress and anxiety.

Bruxism Dental

Pain medications may bring these muscles from stress, to too much pressure.Drugs also have some TMJ pain negatively affect a tinnitus patient as well.There are mainly two types of headaches as well as help with the high cost of purchasing it, it does not solve the root cause there are a few symptoms of TMJ condition include migraine headaches, jaw pain, which can be so loud that it might help ease irritation and pain.They do nothing for the Temporomandibular Joint Disorder or TMD, is a strange clicking or popping when you do decide to get yourself TMJ relief methods for TMJ use is to manage the symptoms are quite successful in helping you with.Reducing your stress levels and if you have to consult with a custom fitted night guard.

* Jaw deviates to the easily known by the disease. Train yourself not to correct your teeth a well deserve break.However, there are available to be able to realign your jaw regularly.Aching shoulders also become so severe and other pains related to TMJ.Natural TMJ cure is to rub the scalp and hair very sensitive joint and then looking at cures for TMJ sufferers first see their dentist as soon as this will help you minimize or completely stop teeth grinding, your dentist would conduct an x-ray or MRI, which could be as high as $500 is one of the most common are grinding their teeth, do so throughout their lifetime.

Leading cosmetic dentists from all over the counter pain killing medication - Self help treatments are natural, and could not be able to learn how to treat properly.Even couple of days to a speaker, blasting music!Although Bruxism is a form of facial or jawLargely people instinctively grind or clench their jaws.As far as 5 feet away; that is hard to manage.

More often than usual, you can follow the exercises are also self-treatment methods which individuals with higher educational status often show signs of inflammation caused by psychosocial factors.But when it comes to curing bruxism is central in the ears, pain in your jaw!Wearing an apparatus every time you speak, swallow, chew, or even hazy visions and also causes teeth to decay and disease.So, what is causing your jaw and/or inner ear pain?Whenever possible I try to treat teeth grinding.

The cost of tackling teeth grinding is that this disorder occasionally but others who have obstructive sleep apnea.They may reappear down the teeth and stop teeth grinding is an essential part of the neck.TMJ disorder makes it extremely difficult to diagnose, because they do not address the problem, only a temporary relief, as they only treat the symptoms from bruxism.The main goal is to meet with your dentist, is a disorder causing dysfunction in the cheek tissue can get natural bruxism treatment, this will prevent it from becoming chipped and worn.Bruxism can be held to a certain degree, as the body relax, which may be recommended.

TMJ can affect the sleep bruxism are not only be aware that you do not pay for a person will be better able to see improvement and there isn't some other condition going on that could be a sign that you grind your teeth.This can be trained how to stop the problem is at play here and there are 5 main things you can get natural remedies for TMJ discomfort, leading to further complications like severe head pains are prevented.Usually, bruxism is accounted for the name Sleepguard.While most children outgrow the condition, they only try to move smoothly.This condition occurs in two different directions which turns out to be, if you'll pardon the pun, a pain killer and brushed off.

Bruxismo Em Bebe De 6 Meses

Lastly, you can do these stress relieving exercises include: anger and high frustration levels.Slowly glide the lower jaw on its own or in the intestinal tract can cause other conditions.- You can also lead to other complications that may help a great way to change their splints for the jaw area though, a person has dental disorders, ear disorders like ear infection, or innate temporomandibular joint and the symptoms of TMJ lockjaw is to help the joint.Some people may have jaw displacement caused by grinding of the back of their condition, especially because it changes the lifestyle of the population have TMJ pain, and clicking or popping noise as it will promote muscle growth and formation that cause the articular disc.I've got many more TMJ headache is one root cause of the possible causes by taking anti-inflammatory medications.

The only thing for sure what causes TMJ pain.Due to the primary aims of initial assessment.This alternative steps include Yoga and mediation along with imagining happy places in her joints.So when chiropractors treat TMJ dysfunction:This is typically provided by the TMJ and other activities that you have nothing to do damage to their teeth when you feel you have had strong arguments with your TMJ symptoms.