#she probably still has them on a computer somewhere but we lost touch years ago

[nctsjiho]

Always Together

warnings: the slightest bit of angst and some lore (this isn’t a warning really, but I’m not ready to change the layout for my writings so here ya go)

era: end of March 2021

❀ Taeyong makes sure that JiHo knows NCT is always there for her

There was a silent knock on the door before it opened with a creak. Taeyong opened the door to the youngest’s dorm room noticing how her back was turned to him. Headphones resting on her head, one of the speakers somewhat moved back so it wasn’t fully covering her right ear. This made him believe the girl had indeed heard him walk in, yet decided not to acknowledge him.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong started carefully. “Playing a game.” Her answer was short and her focus stayed on her computer. The leader tried not to sigh and approached the girl a bit more. “Is it fun?” This time he only got a hum as response.

Kneeling down on the floor and resting his elbows on the desk, Taeyong took his place next to JiHo who had still decided not to look at him. He stared at her, hoping that maybe - just maybe - whatever façade JiHo was putting up would break. When that didn’t happen Taeyong sighed and stood up again. “You’re constantly gone and whenever you get back to the dorm you’re just behind your computer playing games. I know times are a bit tough right now but the least you could do is say hello to us and eat with us whenever you’re home. We’re all worried sick over you.” Somewhere during his scolding, Taeyong noticed how the clicking of the mouse and keyboard had stopped. JiHo let out a breath finally looking up at Taeyong, but she still didn’t say anything yet. “JiHo, I only know what the manager has told us about the situation and I’m not asking for any more information, I’m just asking for you to talk to us and hang out with us like usual. We barely see each other even when we live together and visit the same building everyday.”

There was something in JiHo’s eyes. Something Taeyong wasn’t really familiar with, but it didn’t look like a good thing. For some reason the young girl seemed so helpless and lost, but there was nothing Taeyong could do as one of their managers had told them not to meddle with the situation.

JiHo pushed herself up from her desk chair and walked over to her bed where she sat crossed legged on top of it. Taeyong followed her and sat on the edge of the bed facing her. “JiHo-” “I know and I’m sorry, but oppa…” She wasn’t looking at him rather just staring off to somewhere in her room, but her eyes were completely unfocused. ”It’s not that easy. I hear you guys laughing together in the other room and hanging out, but the thought of joining you guys just doesn’t feel right. I do want to hang out, but there’s just too much on my mind that I can’t get rid of no matter what. I feel like it would be unfair to you guys if I’d join, because I can’t be like I usually am. I would just ruin the mood.” She explained. It evoked this heart-wrenching feeling in the boy’s chest and he was at a loss for words.

Both of the NCT members sat in silence as they thought of what to say next. The silence felt so suffocating that Taeyong didn’t even want to breath too loudly as that might be too distracting. He knew JiHo was having a hard time with what was going on right now, even if he only knew a minimal amount of information.

Just about a week or two earlier one of NCT’s managers had come up to the members who were in the practise room at the time. He had explained to the boys that there were some problems with JiHo’s contract not only with the contract she signed to be in NCT, but also for her being in SM in general. It wasn’t a surprise that it caught the boys completely of guard and got them worried sick about JiHo. Luckily the manager had told them that it wasn’t because the higher-ups in SM wanted to get rid of the female member. It was almost shocking, since after how NCT 2020′s promotions went some were almost sure SM had something against JiHo. Rather than it being an SM thing they found out it was one of their previous managers - the manager in question had been fired since the truth came out - that had communicated misinformation about JiHo to the higher-ups and sadly, even though it wasn’t JiHo’s fault, she now had to suffer the consequences.

The whole explanation was kind of vague and made the boys more confused. They were nevertheless instructed not to ask any further questions and not to ask JiHo about it either. More so, they weren’t allowed to talk about JiHo on any social media, live streams, group and or personal schedules.

This had sparked more questions than the manager was able to answer, but Taeyong still vividly remembered Johnny’s question. “If we’re not allowed to talk about her, wouldn’t fans get more worried? You’re telling us JiHo’s going to be fine, so if she is, why aren’t we allowed to talk about her?” The manager had lowered his head and sighed in a defeated manner. “I’m sorry boys, I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know too much about it either. I-” “Wait. Is it possible that JiHo isn’t going to be fine?” Jungwoo asked with a worried tone, his voice almost a whisper. The leader knew what the question implied, JiHo possibly having to leave NCT and probably SM as well, but that wasn’t something he wanted himself or any of the other members to think about.

Taeyong noticed how their manager’s expression dropped for a second before he composed himself, trying to come up with a good answer. The leader was first however, trying to keep the boys’ hopes high. “Let’s not think like that okay?” He patted Jungwoo on the back a few times and sent a hopeful smile towards his fellow members. “JiHo is going through a hard time right now, we should be there and support her and we can’t do that while being sad right? So let’s stay positive.” The members all agreed, though hesitantly.

JiHo noticed how the older boy had completely spaced out which made her frown. “Taeyong oppa.” His head snapped to look at the girl. “I’ll be okay. Let’s just wait until this is all over.” She said. The light touch of JiHo’s fingers on the back of his hand sent a shiver through Taeyong’s spine. “It’ll be over soon. Right?” Her voice barely, over a whisper, made his heart feel heavy.

He wished he knew how much longer JiHo had to attend these meetings, sometimes a handful a day, until the situation was cleared up. He whished he knew what was going on during those meetings which had her leaving the meeting rooms looking completely drained. He whished that she would open up and tell her how she felt, but it was possible she wasn’t allowed to talk about that to them either. There was this thin line between the secrecy of the situation and JiHo’s toxic habit of keeping all her feelings and hardships to herself. The line was so thin and blurred that it became a grey area, which didn’t allow him to bring it up.

Taeyong switched his hand with JiHo’s which made it so he was gripping hers, he noticed how her hands were slightly trembling. The trembling was something Johnny had noticed during her debut stage 3 years ago. The tall boy had told Taeyong, Yuta, Doyoung and Taeil about it after noticing it happening more often when she was either extremely nervous or stressed. They always found it hard to tell how JiHo was actually feeling since she could hide it so well in her face and eyes, but the trembling hands were a dead give away that something was up. That’s how they notice something’s wrong, occasionally even before JiHo does herself.

Giving her hand a little squeeze he made eye contact with the girl. He nodded as a response to her previous question before speaking up. “Whatever happens we’ll always be NCT, we’ll always be together. Don’t forget that.” He whispered and noticed as JiHo blinked away a tear which then rolled down her right cheek.

Taeyong reached out with his free hand, his thumb wiping away the tear and the trail it had left behind on her face. His hand then reached up to her hair which he pushed behind her ear. “We need you more than you think we do.” He smiled which JiHo tried to mimic, but her lips ended up pressing together in a thin line trying her best to keep herself together. “You don’t oppa.” “No we do, who else will keep Dream in check huh? Who else will keep us from being complete idiots without that smart brain of yours? Who else will keep Yuta from exposing us for something embarrassing?” A flood of moments pertaining to those examples came to JiHo’s mind which had her laughing a little.

“Who’s going to comfort Doyoung when we are all teasing him? Or who’s going to fly over to China just to support a WayV member who’s having personal schedules? Who-” “Okay! I get it.” JiHo giggled trying to stop Taeyong from continuing. Seeing JiHo laugh made the leader feel a sense of pride and happiness. “Fine, but the point is that we really do need you. And whatever is happening behind the scenes, whenever it comes to it we’re all ready to fight for you, but you need to be ready to fight for yourself as well.” JiHo’s smile disappeared but she gave the boy a firm nod as a promise that she was ready to do everything she needed to do when worst comes to worst. They exchanged a look which spoke more than a thousand words before Taeyong stood up and excused himself from JiHo’s room.

[cryinginthebackseat]

you’ve got more poison than sugar - part i

AO3    part ii

Fandom: Call Of Duty 

Pairing: Russell Adler x Bell

Words: 4.009

Summary: Russell Adler should have known better that it wouldn’t take an entire nation or continent to bring him to his knees.

Warnings: just swearings, sexual tension, blood, mentions of past abuse and brainwashing. adler being that manipulative asswipe like usual. 

Author’s note: i don't know what i'm doing. one moment, i was watching the walkthrough of the new call of duty game, found myself curious, acutely curious by that guy with the scars and shades on- a younger, shadier (no pun intended) Robert Redford in Spy Game and oh my... fast forward to 2 weeks later, here we are.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A house somewhere on foreign soil,

Where ageless lovers call,

Is this your goal, your final needs,

Where dogs and vultures eat,

Committed still I turn to go.

I put my trust in you.

A Means To An End - Joy Division (1980)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's mystifying how little she talks. Or when she does, it's always in fragments. Like a crossword puzzle in your local newspaper, but several letters are missing. He initially thought maybe MK-Ultra fucked her head or worse, if it hasn't worked at all, but the more he watches her, the more he realizes it's just the way she is. And it's ironic because he named her Bell. He expected her to chime like a goddamn goldfinch yet here they are. 

But he won't be fazed. Russell Adler is a man who's stopped at nothing in getting what he wanted before, he sure as hell won't stop now for a close-mouthed science project.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“We've got a job to do, Bell."

It intrigues him, every time, the way the words trigger something deep within her psyche, the way her eyes change, her body stands a little straighter, like a machine ready to function at his disposal. It reminds Adler of one of those cartoons he watched when he was a kid about wizards and magic words, except there are no musical dance numbers playing in the background or a talking cricket perching on his shoulder. This is his power over her, over the USSR, over Perseus. That monstrous filth. It really does take a beast to tame another. 

Although he surmises calling Bell one would be superfluous. 

She barely looks like one, but Adler knows too well than to underestimate her. Just because Bell hasn’t shown her set of claws, that doesn’t mean she’s harmless, delicate, like a miniature China Doll in his breast pocket.

Bell never offered him her reply before, but now, now, she nods, head almost bows, obedient pretty thing, and says:

“Yes, Adler.”

So it goes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It takes West Berlin for Adler to realize she’s left-handed. 

She wears her watch on her right hand, smokes with that same said hand only when she’s writing or moving her pieces for an impromptu late-night game of chess against Lazar. And she always wears her gloves all the time- leather, black, lined with silk and pretty, small buttons on the cuffs, covering those striking red nails underneath. Whether it is for the theatrics or an old habit of hers, he can't really tell.

He doesn’t know why he begins to take notice of these mundane details about Bell, but rationalizes because he’s never been in the same room with this version of her, post-brainwash Bell, for more than 10 minutes. And for all intents and purposes, there’s still a lot of question marks surrounding her character; who is she? Where did she come from? What is her connection to Perseus? 

Are they in a possession of a walking, breathing bomb about to destroy them all or the West’s only salvation?

He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Adler hears Bell from his table, typing busy on the computer- barely blinking- all soaked up in that caffeine-infused energy at 1 am. She's always like that, he learns, when it comes to working, always with that steel determination, pulling out all the stops as long as it gets the job done- that Soviet discipline at it's finest.

Reminds him a little of himself when he's young.

Adler walks up to her. 

“You done for the night?” A shake of her head is her only response. He sighs. “You should go home, Bell.” 

“You go. I’ll lock up behind you,” Bell replies, low and monotone; that youthful stubborn.

If she was any other person, he would probably commend her for such fierce willpower, but she is Bell, the walking conundrum, his ace in the hole. Call him paranoid, but the idea of her having the safehouse for herself does nothing but raises every alarm in his head.

“No, we’re going home,” he says instead, tone brooking no argument and she frowns at the screen, her fingers stop moving then looks up at him with those goddamn empty eyes. "Come on, it's late anyway."

She doesn't say anything. Adler wishes he could read her mind- or crack that lovely skull on the back of her head, dissect her brain, learn its secrets and answers. 

Adler has his gun with him. It wouldn’t take long. A quick, true shot to the heart to keep the brain intact. He’d have Hudson contact one of his people inside BND and he'd deliver the brain himself if he has to. They could do it. He heard they’ve been studying inmates' brains for decades now, anyway. 

Before he has a chance to entertain the idea further, though, Bell nods once and rises up from her seat. 

Bell walks past him. Her scent, like honeysuckle on ice, hits him like an uppercut in the face. Adler inhales, as if against his will. 

He thinks he could get drunk on it.

“Hop in. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he says once they’re outside, regretting the decision the moment the words left his lips, but he knows he can’t just leave her on her own at this late hour.

The irony isn’t lost on him, though, considering he just thought about unspooling her brain a few minutes ago.

Bell complies without a protest. Getting inside the passenger seat, wordless still, fingers toying with the radio. An angry, krautrock music comes blaring all over his car. Adler winces, but at least the riot is loud enough to muffle the one's brewing in his head. 

"How's your memory these days?" 

Bell shrugs. "Nihil novi sub sole." There's nothing new under the sun.

Good, he muses. The least she knows about herself the better.

Though that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet.

"Listen, from now on, I want you to keep me informed if there's any new progress about your memory or if you've developed any new symptoms. I want to know everything." He steals a sidelong glance at her, making sure she is listening (she always does, but Adler needs an excuse)

(An excuse for what?)

"Alright, Bell?"

"Of course," replies the woman in question.

"Good." Adler shifts his attention back to the road. "Good." Taking a long drag, he considers trying to appeal to her sentimental side. It's not something you'd improvise last minute- at least not with someone you brainwashed to believe you are her mentor/confidant for the past decade, but he's itching to know where he stands with her.

"You know, I'm just tryin' to look out for you, kid."

Her lips twitch but the rest of her visage remains impassive and faraway, more like a flick knife than a woman. The correlation is uncanny.

That's when she inches closer. The space between them bridged. He freezes. Hyper-aware of just how dangerous this is, but can’t bring himself to pull back, to look the other way. Not when her hand reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, eyes still glued to his, and curls her lips around the filter. One heavy pull, and then she rolls down the window and tosses it out on the side of the road.

"Thought I'd reciprocate the sentiment."

And with that, she leans back in her seat before Adler could even process what has just transpired.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Welcome back to the land of the living, kid,” Adler greeted her, about a month ago. 

Park had insisted that he had to be there for her when she woke up (naturally, Adler had balked at the idea, but at the English woman’s fact-of-the-matter explanation, also because it had somewhat dawned on him last minute the logic behind her machinations- “both of you are supposed to have known each other for years now. If she doesn't see you by her side, she’s going to wonder why”- thus, here he was)

“How are you feeling?” 

Bell blinked owlishly and stared at the older man with those bottomless, cat-like eyes that had haunted him since January.

Her gaze eventually softened as recognition flickered across her face.

“Like someone just hit me in the chest with a bulldozer,” she said hoarsely. “Where are we?”

“St. Dismas’ hospital, Pittsburgh.” Adler got up and fetched her a glass of water from the table. “Although not a bulldozer, but bullets did. That, and you hit your head really hard on your way down. Thought we’d lost you there, Bell.”

Bell drank in silence. She’s still watching him, thinking. This was the first time he realized that he couldn’t exactly read her expression and somehow that threw him off.

“What happened?” she asked, one hand mid-air, like she was deciding which to touch first, hesitating and abandoned the idea. 

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Adler pretended to look remotely distressed about it. “The doctors warned me about this. It must have been because of the fall- heck, I could even still hear that sickening crunch from here.” He dragged his chair closer towards her bed.

“We were in Amsterdam. Remember Fohler?” she shook her head again. “Well, we’d been tracking this son of a bitch for months, but we were chasing him in Amsterdam. He was running away and climbed up some scaffolding. You were about to go up after him,” he recited the fabricated story he, Park and Hudson had crafted. “He shot you and you fell and hit your head against the pavement.”

Bell looked away first, silent. Her hand gingerly touched the back of her head and winced, albeit only slightly. 

Adler was almost impressed, if not, disarmed by how calm and composed her reaction was to all of this. But then again, after having had witnessed first-hand how the woman barely flinched under any kind of interrogation technique they threw at her- a personality built for wrestling tigers- he really shouldn’t be surprised. 

“Bell, what is the last thing you remember?”

Bell frowned. “Not much. I remember ‘Nam, but-”

“Vietnam? Kid, that was thirteen years ago.” Adler watched the way her throat bopped, like she was swallowing her own blood and the color drained from her face, just like the first time he’d seen her, and proceeded to drop the bomb:

“Bell, the year is 1981.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Bell dear, would you mind taking a look at this?" 

Park's voice sails from across the room. She says it like it's a compound word: Bell-dear. Like the two words belong together. Bell-dear. 2 syllables, 1 word, 9 characters and that just might be the weirdest thing he hears this year and he heard many things.

"Bell dear?" Adler asks much later, his gravel-and-smoke voice reduced to a whisper, when she delivers a document to his table.

Park shrugs as if that explains everything. "What? I like her." 

He's tempted to say you really can't put a term of endearment and someone you brainwashed into submission in the same sentence, but what else is new?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wind up in a bar. It’s called Die Stube and the place’s brimmed with artists and all sorts of leather-clad, Bowie-esque dramatic, chromatic blue eyelids young people chattering over a dirty cloud of smoke.

The two of them colonize a lone booth in the back. It’s dark and the quietest. She orders a beer and he, a scotch and they drink in silence. There are moments where her head would twist to the side, as subtle as a needle and survey the phantasmagorical scene before them, like studying something from a petri dish. 

While he’s watching her.

Only to tear his gaze away to the nearest object he can find.

It lands on his watch.

"It’s almost ten. Hudson's contact should be here soon," he announces, if anything to distract himself. She nods mutely in reply, as always, and runs a finger around the rim of her glass.

"The place ain't much of your scene?" 

She shrugs, like it's self-evident. "I didn't know this was a scene, though."

"Well, that’s West Berlin for you. A worry-free playground for the hedonists, hipsters and proto-electro NDW enthusiasts with drugs on tap," Adler says, sipping his drink in practiced nonchalance. "Always makes my head spin."

"I guess I remember it differently," Bell replies, tinged with something akin to begrudging. 

That warrants his full attention. "What do you remember?”

Bell shrugs again and lights a cigarette instead, menthol, one of those long, skinny cigarettes they only market for women; biding her time, making him wait. She lets the smoke flares from her nostrils so her eyes are veiled.

"It’s hard to explain, but I suppose it’s grittier?” she gesticulates, searching for the right word like she’s skim reading the entire Oxford dictionary in her head. “Bizarrely, infinitely grittier and dimmer? Like being in an underground tunnel and there's not much to see."

Interesting. Maybe she’s recalling one of her ops for Perseus or her mind is confusing her with the world on the other side of the wall.

“Maybe you’re remembering one of our clandestine ops here. It was a few years after Vietnam,” Adler supplies, passing over the tale like bait.

She falls for it, hook, line and sinker.

“Ah, I guess that also explains my fluency in German.”

“I taught you that.” It’s only logical, he decides, that she learned from him. She’s supposed to be his protégé after all. 

An elegant brow quirk. "You did?"

"Yeah, though you were already fluent in Latin, Russian, Vietnamese and Portuguese when we first met anyway. You have quite a natural ear, kid.”

She gives him a look. He really can’t categorize it, but it makes it a whole lot harder to fight against her stare.

 “What else did you teach me?” 

If they were anyone else, the lines could have a potential to entice, to seduce, that winsome, catty-eyelashes coquette, but they aren't anyone else and Bell does not voice it like that. Yet the implication behind the question stirs something in the pit of Adler’s stomach anyway, that tight knot of confusion as it is buried with something else and he finds himself, once again, uncharacteristically speechless.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

That particular question of her stays, even hours later, unbidden. Interspersed with her scent and face. 

His emotions are a minefield whenever she’s near now. It evokes that newfound rush of terror within him, like walking on a tightrope or being thrown into the pit to face hundreds of hungry lions, bare hands. It makes Adler questions his every decision, and he can’t have that in his line of work. 

Adler lights his sixth cigarette, contemplating everything, nothing. Anything to distract him from her. It's 4 am and he’s exhausted, but his mind won’t stop whirring. This isn’t like him at all- like he's lost somewhere in a Dali-style labyrinth that is his head and he wonders if this is a byproduct of his fear or fascination or confusion for the young woman.

He fears it is all of them.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(They're only 10 minutes away from East Berlin when he senses it, something akin to burning on his peripheral vision, pulling him like weight.

Bell is staring at him from across the seat.

He cocks his head slightly to the side.

Adler catches the quick, telling quirk of her lips, like she's about to smile but lights a cigarette instead.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Did you hear that?”

Krauss has just crossed the wall and their soles are slippery from the rain. She's panting. Her breath is white like a fog. Adler muses it must be from the running, until his iris trails down to where her hand is clutching his jacket sleeve, the leather creasing like a modulation signal.

“What is it?” Adler asks, hushed. There are no Stasis here, but even one can't be too careful.

“The TV.” She’s gaping at the broken TV next to them. Adler looks at the said object, frowning, then back to her. “Y-you didn’t hear it?”

"Heard what? Bell, the thing's dead."

Bell withdraws from him. Stepping back until her back meets the walls, her eyes seeing and unseeing, like a lens finding focus in the dark, then she closes them, as if trying to regulate her breathing. Adler has never seen her scared shitless of anything before. The sight confuses as it intrigues him. 

"Bell, what's going on?" Adler steps closer, but he dares not to touch her. 

She shakes her head, dismissive. In just a span of seconds, Bell dons that mask she likes to wear again; deadpan and frustratingly distant. A spike of annoyance drives through him. Just when he thinks he can get through her, there she goes again, retreating behind her palisades.

"Nothing." Bell turns away abruptly and she’s walking again."Let's just go. The others are waiting for us."

He doesn't pry about whatever she heard on the TV- Adler knows better than to beat a dead horse, thank you very much- not even after they save her from Volkov's clutches, after she bashes his head against the steel door and reeks his blood all the way home, it seems superficial at the time.

Until two days later.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The day starts, as it mostly does for the team, with a briefing. 

Fifteen minutes in and something like a gasp pulls his attention to her. 

That’s when he notices it; her hands are shaking, coffee spilling out of the mug over her hand. A shatter follows. Her mug smashes to smithereens at her feet. She’s swaying, near collapse, like a house of cards about to fall, a hand on her nose.

Adler catches her before she tumbles to the floor.

“Bell!” His arm around her waist tightens, trying to keep her steady. Lazar rushes to their side in a flash and helps him move her to a nearby chair. 

"Jesus Christ," he curses, more to himself than to her as he watches blood, a bead of angry red, trickling down her nose. "Sims, get me a washcloth from the bathroom."

He kneels before her once Sims returns with a damp cloth. Nicotine-stained gloved fingers tentatively grasp her chin, holding her still. 

“Kid, you alright?” Adler asks, worry bleeds into his voice without him realizing it. He firmly presses the cloth under her nose, his other thumb touches the pulse at her throat- it's almost sickly affectionate. “Bell, talk to me."

Bell looks at him, discombobulated, like he's a figment of her imagination, then blinks. Again and again until she heaves a deep breath.

"I-" she hisses. One hand flies up to her head. "Fuck. My head.”

Adler’s eyes immediately search for Park’s. A knowing look passes over her face and he knows without saying that she's thinking the same thing, like they're attached to the same brain-wire:

MK-Ultra.

There’s a fraction of pause, then Lazar asks, "Should we give her something?” 

Before Park can voice her answer, Bell beats her to it. "I already took an anticonvulsant this morning. It should have helped.”

“Wait, this has happened before?” Adler asks.

Bell looks away, a hesitating look shadowing her face. He fears the worst.

“Bell…” he tries again, a slight warning to his tone.

She sighs loudly, as if mentally preparing herself before walking into a storm. 

“Yes. Two days ago."

His mind instantly refers to East Berlin, the TV. Trying to connect the dots in his head. It seems far fetched, but now he wonders if she saw something that triggers this. Although he's never read about this on other subjects before, the correlation is just impossible to ignore.

Fuck. He heaves a breath, willing himself to calm down, to think. They can't afford complications at times like these. Not when there's so much at stake right now.

Adler snaps his attention back to Bell when she tries to scramble awkwardly to her feet, swatting his hand away. The hand on her neck immediately reaches for her waist again and pushes her back down onto the chair. His grip's tight enough to leave marks on her skin, but he doesn't care.

"Bell, for fuck's sake, stay still or so help me," he says, exasperated, not letting go of her waist. 

"I feel better now." Stubborn little shit.

He is tempted to scream at her face and grab both of her shoulders and shake. “The hell you’re not. Stop fighting it. You’ll only make things worse.”

Her face sours, if only for a millisecond before it morphs into guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Adler watches her for a long moment. It’s only now that he realizes that he’s still holding her waist and the cloth on her face. 

He backs away from her like he’s been burnt. 

“You should have told me. I thought I made it clear the other night to keep me informed regarding this,” he scolds. 

“I’m sorry,” she utters again and she looks so pliable like this, a blank canvas perfumed with obedience and lethal mind. It makes him almost feel sorry for what he has in plan for her once the shit show is over.

“Look, just go back to the hotel and take a day off.” Her mouth cracks open. He raises a silencing hand. “That’s an order, Bell.” But she merely scowls, looking more like jagged ice than a person. Hudson may have just met his match, after all.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“That’s not how it looks to me.”

“It is. It’s my body and I know what I’m feeling, and I’m telling you, I. Feel. Fine.”

His jaw clenches. “Are you disobeying a direct order, agent?”

Bell doesn’t answer, but her whole face remains challenging and hard. Undeterred.

Adler holds his breath. He feels the whole room collectively does the same. It’s like staring down the barrel of a gun and there’s an awful sort of danger to be found in that. 

Just when he thinks an imaginary bullet would dig itself into his skin, however, Bell utters, “Of course not.”

And so the woman resumes to her normal, docile self at a drop of a hat. Even when Park steps in and whisks her out of her seat, drives her back to her hotel with Lazar on shotgun. 

It doesn’t assuage his worry, though. He’s still restless throughout the day, like a roaring ocean inside a bell jar. She’s never done this before, openly rebels against him. Now, the situation is just bad. Not casually bad or almost-got-shot bad, this is the-entire-Europe-could-turn-into-a-nuclear-wasteland bad, an-armageddon-waiting-to-happen bad. 

What if this is the beginning of her old self trying to scratch her way out of the surface? Adler’s blood goes cold at the thought. He is going to have to keep a close eye on this development.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

West Berlin - 1 am, local time.

“How is she?”

“Stable. I’ve administered another dose of Propranolol before I left the hotel. She should be fit as a fiddle in the morning.”

“Tell me, what do you think happened to her?”

“My theory? Traumatic brain injury. A cumulative product of torture, trauma-based mind control and chronic stress. I've read reports about cases like these before in MI6. None of them is still alive to recount the tale, unfortunately."

Adler grips the phone. 

“How long do you think we have?”

“Theoretically, 2-3 weeks tops.”

“But?”

He hears Park sighs on the other line. “But then again, none of the subjects I’ve encountered before were like her. So, I suppose it’s still a little too premature to determine at this point."

Adler kneads his temple, feeling the start of that familiar Bell-induced headache forms in his head. Can things just be fucking simple for once? 

“We don’t have that much time anyway, Park. And if Hudson gets a wind of this, he’ll want her gone by morning. I can’t let that happen. Not…” he pauses. “Not when we are this close.”

"What are we going to do about her, then?" 

Adler sighs.

"Raise the dosages of her drugs,” he says. “And keep an extra eye on her. I think we may be heading into uncharted waters now.”

Tagging: @mvalentine cause you said to tag you with everything i write so  👁👄👁

[anothertimdrakestan]

How DARE You Go And Die On Me???  - Jason Todd x Reader Soulmate AU -

Words: 2.1k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Jason Todd x reader soulmate AU pleasssse where when you touch them with skin for the first time there’s sparkly lights that only you and your soulmate see or something and you feel really warm and your soulmate glows or something? Thank you ❤️”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I love this request. So much. I hope y’all enjoy this one because I really got to live out my famous science nerd dream. Thank you for the amazing request! I secretly love soulmate AU’s hehehe so please send more! Y’all are so creative with them too :)))

Soulmates were a sore subject for you. At a young age you glowed bright red, and it was the most crushing moment of your life. Soulmate glows only occurred when you touched your soulmate for the first time or when they died. Knowing this meant you would never meet your person was hard, but you hoped maybe you’d be one of the lucky ones who got a new soulmate, seeing as you were so young. But years later nothing had happened even though you stayed hopeful. Unlike so many who go off the rails once they realize there’s no one for them, you dedicated your life to researching soulmates, and it was incredibly fulfilling. As a high school intern working under a group of molecular biochemists, world renowned computer scientists, and psychiatrists you were worked towards creating a drug that made you glow in your soulmate color, it would make finding soulmates much easier and from there you could maybe make a sensor and go international with your research. Who wouldn’t want a drug that finds the person you’re meant to be with?

You’d been tracking soulmates to see if there’s any tell before they find out they are soulmates besides the glowing. It was painful to watch thousands find their life long partner but part of you hoped that by finishing this research you would be able to figure out if your soulmate was really gone, or get filthy rich trying. As just a teenager you planned on working for the company for the rest of your life, staying involved as you pursue your degree then returning, this project was growing up with you. 

As far as you knew, soulmates were drawn together. That was the only explanation as to why so many people in your tests were soulmates. There was something almost magnetic about finding your other half, and you were convinced it was chartable. There was a scientific explanation for everything. 

Finally the drug was ready, after months of blind trials and high highs and low lows it was time for the first wave of real life test runs. Grouping a couple thousand eager participants together, your team split into groups. Taking each participant into a room you gave them the drug and filled the color they glowed, and if anyone matched you’d bring them together. Of course all the interns on your team wanted to try too. 

Stepping up you couldn’t hold in excitement. Since you were only newly a teenager you hoped your soulmate color would be cool. You’d seen some amazing colors and meetings all throughout the day. It couldn’t get more exciting.

Stepping up, you took the drug and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

But you didn’t glow. “Hey uh Y/N you did say you glowed when you were little right? Sorry to break it to yah kid but yours is gone, we’ve got a couple hundred more tests why don’t yah go home?” a voice came over the intercom, and your heart sunk. Sure some people didn’t glow either, and they all had flashed at some point. Your hope was clearly misplaced. And with a broken soul, quite literally, you went home.

Years later you’d kept with the team. The drug was almost ready to be released officially, and the public was beyond excited. You were 25 now, a huge public face for the soulmate finder, you’d stuck with the program and it had made you practically famous. Doing PR you’d brought the drug on talk shows, finding strangers their soulmate on live TV, you made special appearances to celebrities to find and log their soulmate color. Everyone that took your test had their specific color logged in a huge database, so when you tested if your perfect color matched somewhere your soulmate would get alerted. It was perfection.

Tonight you were going on television to do another round of soulmate finding with a late night host. Nothing new.

“And please welcome, Cupid Herself, Y/N!” The crowd was always full wherever you went, everyone wanted a chance at love as soon as possible. “Now I’m very sorry to disappoint the crowd but we’re bringing out some celebrities who’ve requested a chance at love... I bring you THE WAYNES!” You were a little shocked, you probably should’ve read the brief but no difference, you had enough for about ten people. Standing up you shook Bruce Wayne’s hand, moving onto the chair at the side while Bruce and three of his children walked in. “Hello! Mr. Grayson, Todd, and Ms. Brown right?” the host greeted the three and shook Bruce’s hand, no need for his introduction. 

“These three couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. As you know Mr. Drake-Wayne has found his soulmate and now husband so we couldn’t bring him! And my son Damian was erm- busy.” You saw Jason Todd snort, slightly taken aback by his actions on live television. “Can I just say, I am super excited to be here! It’s a huge honor Ms. Y/L/N this is too cool!” Stephanie got up, giving you a quick hug, you smiled, happy that she was so kind. 

“Well lets get this show on the road! I’m sure millions want to know if any of the Wayne’s are their soulmate!” the host waggled an eyebrow as the crowd cooed. This was basically a chance at the lottery, a Wayne was a ticket to riches for life. Taking the lead you gave your pitch about the drug, taking consent before grabbing a serving for four. Walking up you handed a glass to each boy, finishing with Bruce, but he refused. “Oh no, I don’t want to know” he said softly. The crowd booed, and in a bit of a panic the host said “well then how about the lovely Y/N takes a drink? We all want to know if the creator has a soulmate!” you politely told him and the crowd you’d tried before, but there was no light, explaining how you lost is when you were younger. As you saw the crowd looking upset you decided it was better than nothing.

“How about I try it guys! Maybe something’s changed - find out live here on Late Night!” you pitched into the camera and the host nodded, cutting to an ad-break.

“Does this shit actually work?” Jason turned to you, swirling the liquid around cautiously. “Yes! We’ve been error free for five years!” you said proudly, this was your life's work after all. “And we’re back! How ‘bout we get this show on the road! Grayson you first?” 

With a shrug Dick threw the little up back, and in a few seconds a cerulean blue glowed around him. The crowd oohed and ahhed as Dick smiled. “Any matches?” He looked to you. Glancing over at your guy who had snapped the exact color he shook his head. “Not yet! Dick Grayson-Wayne’s soulmate is still out there!” the crowd rumbled in excitement, everyone wanted a test now.

“Ms. Brown! Care to drink?” Stephanie drank eagerly, and quickly shone a deep royal purple and the crowd cheered. “No match!” you let everyone know and there was another cheer.

“Mr. Todd, you next?” Jason didn’t waste a moment, drinking the liquid he shone the brightest red you’d seen in a while. For a moment it reminded you of your red all those years ago. Looking over it was another no, and the crowd was almost losing it, many girls in the audience begged for a drink to see if they were his lover. 

“And lastly Ms. Y/N! Ready to see the creator try her own drug?!” You corrected him, taking a moment to shout out all the amazing scientists, interns, and volunteers you’d worked with over the years. The crowd cut you off, chanting “DRINK DRINK DRINK” urging you to throw the cup back, the liquid tasted way better than the last time you’d tried it in the trial run. You help out your hand to show the lack of coloration and the audience sighed. Smiling sweetly you began to talk about the drop date.

“Thank you all so much! I’m so excited to release this with my team in just a month. I’d like to once again thank my tea-” you heard a shriek “OH MY GOD THAT’S JASON’S COLOR!!!” and the audience lost it. Confused you saw Jason’s jaw drop, and you looked at your hands that now radiated the same deep red from all those years ago. 

“UM WE’LL BE RIGHT BACK!” the host shouted over the chaos. You immediately got up, rushing to the color scanner. “Holy shit Y/N it’s really Jason’s color.” he confirmed your suspicions and without thinking you sprinted back up to the sofa. Connecting your hand to Jason’s cheek the two of you began glowing the same color. Locking eyes with Jason, you couldn’t help but start crying. The aura radiated between the two of you and Jason pulled you into his chest. 

The camera came on after the 20 second impromptu break. And what they saw made the news that night. “JASON TODD FOUND SOULMATE LIVE ON LATE NIGHT” “CAMERAS TURN ON AND JASON IS HOLDING HIS GIRL - TOO CUTE! CLICK FOR PICS” “JASON TODD CUFFED! SEE THE PICS HERE!” In just the few seconds before they could cut the cameras, millions of viewers saw Jason holding you, the bright red shining around the two of you while you clung to him. And the pictures were everywhere. Pulling you off stage you couldn’t wrap your mind around what had just happened. 

“My- my soulmate died years ago. When I was a kid I took the drug and didn’t shine! This doesn’t make any sense!” you looked up a Jason and practically saw a lightbulb go off. “Well um, were you around 13 when your soulmate died? [ you nodded ] And you were about 14-15 when you tried the drug? [ again he was right ] Okay well long story I died and came back to life. And you must’ve tested when I was still gone” he finished and you almost passed out. “YOU DIED?” you screeched. And he clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shh princess that’s valuable knowledge for family and soulmates only” it was slowly starting to register that you were in fact his soulmate. “Soulmates” you whispered, leaning in to hug him again. “Soulmates.” he confirmed. 

“God I have never seen Jaybird this sappy in my life, you might be magical” Dick came up to you, shaking your hand and pulling you in for a hug. “You got a good soulmate Jay. By the way, can I have a couple servings early I’ve got a bet with Timbers that Damian’s soulmate is Jon and I need some soulmate help for myself?” you rolled your eyes and Jason tugged you back to his side. “Back off Grayson she doesn’t even know you!” 

“A little protective already Jay? Poor Y/N get used to this sweetheart” Dick winked at you and you felt Jason tighten his grip around your waist. Dick backed off and Stephanie bounded up to you. “Oh my god Tim’s gonna die he’d totally wanna be here! Plus I bet Bruce is gonna have to do all sorts of interviews now hahaha. How are you doing girl? This is a lot! Welcome to the Waynes!” she said, pulling you in for another tight hug, and the seriousness of finding your soulmate hit you. “Oh my god I’m gonna have to do so much press. How did I not think of this. What are the odds oh no this is gonna be a shitstorm fuck fuck fuck” Jason interrupted you by squeezing your hand. “Uh I really hate press too, I mean Bruce owes me patrol for like a week for just tonight but, if you like, need me for something I can go... does that help?” he looked lost, but it was clear that he wanted to help, and it was adorable. 

“I would like that. And it’s late. I’m exhausted. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow somewhere private? We’re gonna get stalked so maybe you can come over to my place?” you realized you just had to take it step by step, and finding a soulmate was the best first step ever. “Yeah, that seems easier.” Jason sighed, and the two of you exchanged numbers.

“By the way, what does patrol mean? And does the color red mean anything to you cuz it doesn’t to me and usually the color means something but it could not?” You saw Jason’s eyes widen.

“Erm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. It’s another one of those ‘family and soulmates only’ facts. If that’s okay?” you nodded, just happy to have a soulmate.

“Of course Jason, but just know I’m gonna give you a hard time for going and dying on me. Idiot” you stuck your tongue out as he winked.

“Only to make a perfect love story for you princess” and you groaned, but he wasn’t wrong. This one truly one for the books. 

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Fangirl, Interrupted - Becca’s Saturday

Summary: Have you ever felt like you’re too far up your fandoms that you’re not really living your real life? Well, that. But more.

Word Count: 1,817

Pairings: Dean x reader, Sherlock x reader

Warnings: You’re not gonna like it. Sudden fandom changes, bit of smut which is not really smutty, lazy writing, suicidal attempt, usage of drugs and alcohol, OOC scenes. 

Original A/N: Because of who I am, I like to exaggerate everything. With that being said, let me tell you that this is how I felt for many years, with multiple fandoms. I have lived a tortous life, therefore I was always seeking to live somewhere else. Almost all of my childhood and teenage years were an on-going loop between my fake life inside my fandoms and my real life. I barely remember anything now outside that make-pretend life I created for myself.  Now I am living my life, in a way that I can no longer hide inside that fake life. Call it what you want. Anxiety is coming back to me, fyi, and I tried to hide there but I just can’t. This is my way of expressing it. The Girl, Interrupted theme is because I watched it yesterday after performing Lisa’s monologue at my acting class - a way of giving therapy to myself through art. Anyway, I hope you don’t read this fic. I didn’t like it at all, but I feel the need, nonetheless, to share it somewhere. To have evidence that I went through that. Probably, someone out there has too. Idk.

New A/N: I wrote this MONTHS ago, long before I got diagnosed, and I got scared of posting it because it could be too depressing. But I hate leaving drafts all alone so here goes nothing.

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness…

“Put her in restraints!” A woman yelled. “Withdraw blood… Give her five milligrams of Valium, IV”

“Turn her head so she doesn’t aspirate,” another woman advised. I felt my head being turned by a pair of terribly warm hands.

I was attacked. I had been attacked.

“You should check my hand. There’s no bones in it anymore…”

“What were you thinking?” The first woman asked.

“I was trying to save the world…” I replied, “Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later.”

Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay in one place.

“Hey,” I opened my eyes at the familiar voice. The image at first was blurry, but I could recognize the colors of their flannel shirts. My back was killing me, and my arms felt numb. “(Y/N) are you okay?”

“Yo, sweetheart! Wake up!” A rough voice called out. I could see his red flannel.

Red flannel. Dean was wearing a red flannel, and Sam had the green one. That could only mean one thing…

I looked down at my own clothes, I was wearing a brown flannel.

I smiled childishly, and my vision finally cleared. Both men were staring at me, worried. “I’m home,” is all I could say.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, Sam smiled back at me.

“Yes, you are,” he said, “you’re home with us. Where else would you be?”

“At a hospital or some shit,” I replied.

“We don’t do no hospitals, sweetheart,” Dean reminded me from afar.

“Did we get him? The djinn?” I inquired, with wide eyes.

“Yup,” Sam nodded.

Dean appeared back again, handing me a cold beer. It was closed. Sam took my hand and guided it to my forehead, so I could press the bottle to my forehead. I was probably wounded there too.

“We Jafar-ed the shit out of him,” Dean snorted. Sam inhaled profoundly, as an attempt to not slap his brother. “I Jas-min that we almost didn’t make it…” Dean continued, “but enough Abu me,” he giggled, “how was your daydream, sweetheart? Where’d Iago?”

“Please, stop,” Sam begged. Dean tried to argue but Sam was already looking back at me. “But do tell us where did you go?”

“I…”

“Where did you go?”

“(Y/N)” a strong light blinded me for a second. I suddenly felt something in my eyes, pulling them open. “(Y/N), we’re calling you!” The voice chanted. “Hello, Earth requires Ms (Y/N)...”

“Wha-what?” I stuttered, pulling away from the light.

The scenery had changed. I was no longer at a motel room with awful wallpaper, but instead at a very nice living room, though the wallpaper was still awful.

“Are you okay?” The man that had been calling my name asked. He kneeled in front of me.

“Are you real?” I tilted my head to the side, and he smiled tenderly.

“As real as your nose,” he said and booped my nose. His touch was soft and warm.

“What happened?”

“You fainted,” another voice answered. I looked back, only to see the familiar figure of Sherlock sitting on his desk, typing furiously on his computer. “I told you not to get too close to the evidence, but did you listen? No, why?” He gazed back, “Because ‘oh Sherlock, don’t be so stern, it’s just a flower bouquet!’ but I was right, as usual.”

“Let her breath,” Watson commanded. “We both smelled it too and nothing bad happened.”

“Yes, but so did the police officers… All male, I must remind you” Sherlock snapped. “The flowers were sent to a woman who, where is she now? Oh, yes, DEAD!”

“I don’t get it,” I interfered.

“I suspect the flowers are poisoned with some sort of chemical that only affects women, by reacting to their production of hormones.” Sherlock informed me.

“Right… And what does that have to do with your intoxication?” The female voice asked again.

I suddenly snapped back to the hospital. I was laying in a hospital bed, with lots of tubles connected to me. There was a woman in white, sitting by my side with a notepad on her lap.

“Well, obviously I’ve been affected… It’s the flowers, you see…” I spoke.

“Flowers? What flowers?” The nurse, she was a nurse, asked again.

“The poisoned flowers!”

“Do you see them now?” She inquired.

“Of course not!”

“No?”

The djinn stood behind her. “Say no,” he said with an ominous voice.

“No,” I obeyed.

The nurse looked behind her and the djinn disappeared instantly. “Are you seeing anything out of the ordinary at the moment?”

“No, why would I? I’m not crazy,”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were…” Dean sighed. He was sitting by my side, in bed, and was connecting his phone to the charger. “I am a little crazy too, you know?”

“Oh, yeah?” I trembled.

“Yeah,” he muttered and finally let go off his phone. He turned to look at me for a second before cuddling me. I was the small spoon, he was shirtless. “I’m crazy about you.”

“Smooth,” I replied sheepishly. I could feel the ghost of his arms around me… Ghost, because I couldn’t really feel him. He was hot, yet cold as if air was blowing over my skin.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked.

“I am.”

I wasn’t. I’m not okay.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered and pecked my shoulder. Again, I felt it but not quite.

“Dean?”

“Huh?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see what would happen after I said what I wnated to say.

“I feel like I’m still inside the djinn’s daydream,” I confessed.

Dean sat up and fixed a lose strand of hair that was falling over my eyes.

“You’re not inside a djinn’s daydream…” He said, calmly.

“How can you tell?” I asked, still not opening my eyes.

“Because djinns don’t exist, that’s why,” he said.

I finally opened my eyes. Black locks and blue eyes were all I could see for a moment.

“Djinns are mythological, and that is all…” Sherlock continued. I could hear his voice turning from Dean’s to his own. “I understand that maybe the toxins from the flowers could affect your perception of life, but there is nothing to fear. The effects will pass and you’ll be good as new.”

“I don’t feel good as new.”

“Clearly,” he grunted.

Noticing my state, he decided to go a little further from his usual behaviour. He pressed his head to my arm… I was still laying on my side, as if I was still being the small spoon.

“I will be here, by your side, as long as you let me.”

My heart fluttered, but not in love but rather in pain.

“I can’t control that.”

“The pills are having a positive effect on her now, we can get her to be conscious for a bit longer than before…” I heard a voice coming from the hall.

“What is that?” I asked. Sherlock tilted his head.

“What?” He furrowed, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, I do.”

I got up from bed and opened the door. At the other side of it was a hospital hall rather than Sherlock’s. All white, with blinding white lights. The nurse was talking to what I assumed was a doctor.

I felt like I would faint again.

Sherlock got up as well and dragged me back to the bed, closing the door behind us.

“You know what could help?” He smirked. “I know… Because I know you.”

He got me back in bed, facing up to the ceiling. I was about to talk, when I felt him pulling down my pijama shorts. A sigh left my lips, as I felt his tongue rubbing my clit in circles. I closed my eyes, filled with pleasure, and tried to keep it quiet so neither Mrs Hudson nor Watson could hear us.

“Come here,” I begged after a while.

I opened my eyes and saw Dean crawling up to my face. His tattoo was covered in sweat and his hair was ruffled.

“You thought I would just leave it there, sweetheart?” He flirted and, without a warning, he thrust inside me. “You feel good today… Tight, and so wet for me…”

I moaned, getting lost in his green eyes. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t.

I didn’t even feel his weight over me.

I blinked.

TARDIS.

I blinked again.

Dean was looking at me, dumbfounded as he made love to me.

I shook my head and closed my eyes again, letting my body fall back into the pillows as I succumbed to the pleasure he… they were giving me. I called both of their names in between whispers until I climaxed.

I sighed and opened my eyes.

I was in my room. Darkness surrounded me. I was alone, and my fingers were still between my legs.

I wiped them quickly with the bed sheets and took my phone to googled Dean Winchester’s name, only to find out that he was not being looked at by the US government, but rather a fictional character. Not only that, but I saw pictures of him in the most intimate moments… Moments I could recall from living them with him.

I clicked on one of his pictures.

Jensen Ackles… Married.

I clicked on Sam’s.

Married.

I clicked on Castiel’s.

Married.

They were all married. Click by click I undercovered the lie I was living in.

“But what about Sher?” I thought to myself.

I googled him. Fictional character, based on the books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

There he was, my Sherlock, next to others who had also played him.

“I thought I was in a hospital,” I whispered.

“Maybe it’s just your unconscious mind asking to be treated by a professional.” Castiel’s voice spoke.

“Maybe it’s because that is where you’re going,” Sam gestured to the side of my bed. A bottle of vodka laid there empty, next to empty sets of aspirins.

“Is there an end to this?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Jim Moriarty spoke from the darkness. “But aren’t you having fun?”

“What if I die?” I insisted.

“You won’t,” Sherlock said, “you still got enough energy to call an ambulance for yourself.”

“Please do,” Watson begged softly.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.

“I need an ambulance…”

“We’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.” Dean smiled with a glimpse of sadness.

“I love you, guys.”

Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought you were moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy… Maybe it was loneliness… Or maybe I was just a fangirl… Interrupted.

No tags for this one.

[magalidragon]

4 or 10 please!!!

Okay so I was going to do #10 in the when the sun sets in the east universe and I still will BUT then I got hit with feels and did #4 “hey I’m here now” in my silent shadow universe which hasn’t been posted yet. It’s angsty and sad but hopeful too. Don’t hate me! 🙈 (For those that didn’t see it, the moodboard and teaser for this fic is on my tumblr somewhere. Jon is deaf and has a wolf sanctuary, Dany is the veternarian)

#10. “Hey, I’m here now” — set in the as of now unpublished silent shadow universe

The world was closing in on him.

It was a constant sensation in his life, one he had grown used to since he was six-years old. Since that terrible day when he'd been playing with Robb, like nothing was wrong, and then he woke up in a hospital, with tubes and wires, his head exploding in pain, and...silence. Just nothing, nothing but vibrations when it was loud enough, nothing but humming when the frequency was just right.

He spent twenty years in his world, a world he'd created for himself, and part of that world entailed Ghost. Ghost was his counterpart, his equal, his shadow, and his heart and his soul. His entire world was courtesy of Ghost. Ghost let him know when someone was there, he saved him from stepping off the sidewalk without hearing the car coming around the corner...he was his ears, his eyes, and his entire life. Without Ghost he didn't know where he'd be.

Arya tried to get him to calm down, but it was no use. He dug his fingers into his scalp, tearing at his curls, yanking them free from the messy bun on the back of his head, and whimpered, like how he imagined his wolf felt. No, not imagine, he knew. His cousin held his wrists, her lips moving, gray eyes just like his wide and focused on him, and his brain processed what she was saying, but he didn't hear it. They were just words.

She let go of his hands, signing furiously, like he didn't know what she was already saying. It didn't matter. “Where is she!?" he shouted, knowing in his heightened state what he said was probably unintelligible. He caught sight of the huge Suburban rolling up and raced towards it, panicked, not even waiting for the tires to squeal to a stop before he threw open the door and grabbed her hand, yanking her out of the cab.

Silver hair flew around her face, her cheeks flushed, and she was dressed haphazardly. Arya had called her about thirty minutes ago. It took almost that long just to get from the front gate to the location in the depths of the sanctuary. He'd be impressed with her speed, if it weren't such dire circumstances. She was speaking to Arya, running with him, her bag slamming against her hip. He felt the pounding of his heart in his ears, the rush of his blood. Each foot on the ground anchored him to the present, the vibrations moving from his soles into his actual soul.

They broke through the trees, to the clearing, where his heart lay on the ground, white fur damp and stained red. They always said that his eyes were bloody, but no one really knew, he supposed, what the real color of blood happened to be. It was crimson, so dark it was almost black, pumping from the gashes and wounds in his side. Ghost's eyes were red like rubies, like the glow of a sunset, not the hideous hue of the liquid leaving his body as fast as his body could generate it.

His beautiful red eyes were closed, breathing labored, fighting with all the strength left in hi.m Jon didn't know what he would do if he lost him. He knelt to his companion's side, looking over at Daenerys as she began to work, pulling on gloves and instantly triaging. A finger darted out, guiding his chin up and he stared at her, watching her lips form the words clearly while her hand moved in unison.

"Hey, I'm here now."

He nodded quickly, knowing that if anything would save his wolf, it would be her. He didn't sign his response; he didn't need to, just mouthed the words, not a whisper from him. "Thank you."

In their language, the strange mix of sign, lip-reading, and gentle touches they'd perfected over the months together, he helped her stabilize him, get him onto the stretcher Arya and Gendry brought out, and into the back of the Suburban. He felt the vibrations from the siren in his head, wondering if it was even legal for her to have one when she wasn't a police officer, but he didn't care. He'd deal with it if they were stopped. it was Winterfell, everyone knew everyone. They understood what this meant.

At the hospital he fell back, while she and her assistants ran in to work on him. Arya came up to him, tried to get him to come wash his hands, change out of his bloody shirt, but he didn't move. He replayed it all in his head, how they had even gotten to this point. The tracks in the snow, the worry he felt as one of his beloved wolves had already been injured-- Lady was a gentle creature, she was too used to humans and other creatures, no doubt she thought the animal was friendly.

A fully grown male grizzly bear early awakening from hibernation, hungry and still exhausted, confused, a single wolf would not be able to survive against it, but Lady had gotten away with a gash on her muzzle, her beautiful white and gray fur marred forever with the scars she would have. He went out with Ghost, to track the animal, to try to find it and figure its location, intent on calling the game wardens and having them come to relocate the animal somewhere else. Not in his sanctuary, for instance.

And Ghost saved him.

"She's a good doctor, Jon. He'll be fine."

He signed the words, too tired to speak them. "He saved me."

Arya clutched him, her tears wet on his cheek. She tapped the words into his hand, signing them even when he wasn't looking, but he knew. "He did what he was meant to do."

Ghost saved him from a bear, but he saved him from despair and loneliness, and he gave him a voice when he had none to give.

He did what he could, pushing it from his mind, and hours passed. Hours where he wondered if his heart would stop beating, if his breath would just suddenly cease, and he would die with his wolf. What am I going to do? he wondered.

"Jon."

The light touch on his shoulder jerked his head up, seeing her sign his name, her lips forming the words, and he knew. He lunged for her, tears hot on his cheeks, wracking sobs escaping his body, shaking him to his core. She clutched him, burying her face into his neck, kissing the pulse there. He pushed by her and ran into the room, and almost collapsed atop the white form lying on the bed, stark white bandages around his body, a tube helping him breathe, but the line on the computer monitor beside him beeping.

Jon might not have been able to hear it, but he knew what those lines meant, and he verified them with his ear pressed to Ghost's chest, the steady thud lulling him into a trance.

Thud-thum. Thud-thum. Thud-thum.

He turned his face from his wolf's soft fur, kissing at his muzzle and crying, Dany behind him holding his shoulders steady as his body, exhausted and overwhelmed, just gave out, relieved. He didn't know how long he knelt there, or when someone moved him, but soon he was in his house with Dany, both of them frantic, adrenaline and need raging through them.

They tore at each other's clothes, falling into each other, consumed with desperation to just feel alive. He knew the psychology of it, the reasons why when faced with death and chaos and possible loss, the human mind and body finally synced up with the single focus of wanting to fuck, to take and give to another person's body and mind, to remind itself there is still life, there is still feeling and love and passion, even when faced with ones own mortality. We aren't dead yet, was all it repeated.

He collapsed beside her, his face buried in her chest, inhaling the slightly floral scent from her shampoo, the lavender of her body lotion, and the sweat and lingering antiseptic and coppery blood from the surgery room. His fingers sought hers, clenching, embracing over her heart.

Jon might not be able to hear her voice-- one of the only things in his life he truly missed, truly wished he could go back in time and tell the little boy not to climb that tree, not to go dancing along the edge of the castle wall, and not to slip and fall trying to beat Robb in a race. He could not hear her voice, but he could feel it, in the beating of her heart, in the steady thrum of her pulse, and the way her lips moved at his ear, the breath tickling. Her fingers sought out his, clenched tight, and she moved her hand in front of them, heads resting together on the same pillow.

“I’m here now”

He smiled, a rare sight only she got to see. He touched her lips, as she formed the words again, reassuring him, and he understood. He mouthed the words back: "I know." He then slipped his hand between them, covering her heart, and moved his fingers into the sign, the one she knew, that everyone in the world seemed to know, but for him was the hardest one of all. The only one he never used, in some ways never felt he would ever have need to use, but when Daenerys came into his life, it was the only one he felt he truly understood.

I love you.

[singledarkshade]

Deadly Puzzle

Part Three

(Part One and Part Two can be found here)

Eve stood at the door watching her little sister in her new bedroom. Gideon had only opened one box and was currently sitting on her new bed, huddled in the corner with Gilbert’s teddy bear clutched to her. She hadn’t let it go since Eve had picked her up.

It had been the worst week Eve had ever had to endure, from the moment she’d answered the phone to be told her mother, stepfather and stepbrother were all dead meaning she was now all that her stepsister had left.

She’d not been able to spend much time with Gideon and Gilbert since she had started with the FBI. Now she had to be a parent to her ten-year-old sister who didn’t know her and already hated her for moving them to a different country.

But Central City was where Eve’s job was, and she needed it more than ever to support the devastated little girl in the bedroom. One who had already proven herself smarter than most people in most rooms.

Eve had no idea how to connect with Gideon or help her through this, but she had no choice.

“Gideon,” Kendra said softly, “There’s more in this box.”

Shaking herself Gideon turned back to the others in the room and gently placed the bear on the desk. As she did, the tag caught her eye.

“This isn’t Gilbert’s bear,” she breathed before turning back to the box, stretching up so she could lean in and pulled out a smaller box containing three fake gravestones.

The others crowded round, and Harrison read, “Mommy Rider, Daddy Rider, Big Brother Rider. There’s something beneath them,” he lifted the three fake tombstones out their box to see the paper below and read, “When everything is lost, when all is gone, sometimes all you want is to go home but a stop is made on the way, even if only for one day.”

“What does that mean?” Kendra mused.

Gideon fumbled to get her phone, “Evie,” she quickly dialled her older sister, “Eve, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eve told her, “Why? What happened?”

She sighed, “Yang left me a present. I’ll send you a picture.”

Quickly snapping the bear, the tombstones and the note, Gideon sent it to her sister and waited while Eve looked at it.

“I doubt home means me,” Eve came back on, “It’ll be where you feel safest.”

“That’s Rip’s place or the office,” Gideon told her.

Eve replied, “This is aimed at you, and although you spend more time at Rip’s apartment than your own, the office is in your name.”

“Are you sure it’s the office?” Harrison asked her.

Gideon frowned in thought before shaking her head, “When all is lost…” she whispered before murmuring, “All is lost.” Her head came up and she demanded, “Evie, when we first came to Central City the house wasn’t ready, where did we stay?”

“The Star Hotel on sixth,” Eve told her.

“That’s where the next clue is,” Gideon said, “We’re heading there now.”

Before she could hang up, Eve called, “I’ll meet you there.”

Gideon put her phone away and, with Harrison, Kendra and Cisco, headed to the car. The Star Hotel wasn’t that far from the station and as they walked into the reception area the old-fashioned phone on the wall began to ring.

 Gideon stalled as the phone rang.

“Answer it,” Kendra told her.

Gideon frowned, listening to the ringing.

“Rider,” Harrison snarled, “Answer the damn phone.”

Shaking her head, Gideon replied, “It only started to ring once we were here. He's watching us right now from somewhere.”

Harrison snapped, “Answer the phone, Gideon,” as it continued to ring, he snarled, “If that girl dies, you're an accessory to murder.”

Walking to the phone, Gideon lifted the receiver and hung up instantly.

Eve stared at her, “I hope to God you know what you're doing.”

Gideon turned in a circle and spotted an open door that she knew had been closed a few moments ago. Charging towards the office she found a tablet showing the reception of the hotel where they had been moments before.

“He’s been watching us,” Gideon cried, “All this time, he watched us.”

Kendra caught Gideon’s shoulder, “Don't touch anything.”

Harrison scanned the room, “Let's get CSI down here to dust for prints.”

“There's no need,” Cisco noted, “I'm sure he touched things. He probably touched everything, but you're not going to find any prints. He's too good for that.”

“What is this sick, twisted admiration you have for this whack job?” Harrison demanded of the younger man.

Cisco shrugged before asking, “Now do you get how good he is? He’s just warming up.”

Kendra frowned as she looked around the room, gasping when she saw a picture sitting on the desk, “Oh, my God,” she pulled out a glove from her pocket and picked it up by the edge of the frame turning it to show the others.

“The waitress,” Gideon breathed, horrified to see the scared woman tied to a chair.

Her phone beeped and she pulled it out hoping it was Rip, frowning when it was from an unknown number. She handed it Cisco to read not wanting to see what the psycho had written to her.

“It's a message from Yang,” Cisco said softly, “He says, you are a naughty, naughty girl. He's giving us another chance. She's still alive.”

Kendra nodded, “Okay, let's go back to the station, wait for instructions.”

Gideon shook her head, “No.”

Eve frowned, “Gideon?”

“I’m going back to the office,” she said.

Kendra stared at her stunned, “What do you mean?”

Gideon shrugged, “I'm nobody's puppet, okay? I'm done. I'm done playing his little game. I solved his puzzles. I chased my tail and had him dredge up my past. I'm finished.”

Cisco said urgently, “No one's ever gotten this far. That's why he's still playing. It's a sign of respect.”

“No,” Gideon yelled, “It isn’t, Cisco. He’s too good, he’s better than me and we never had a chance. He's going to kill that girl either way.”

Kendra shook her head as Gideon started out the door, “Maybe, maybe not, Gideon but I know you don't just give up.”

Gideon turned back, “Tell you what, Kendra, the next time a serial killer calls you out, personally, you can pick up your pompoms and rally the troops and never say die. I'm out.”

“Damn you, Rider,” Harrison yelled after her, “We don’t need you. We’ll do this ourselves.”

Without looking back Gideon marched out the building with Eve following on behind her.

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

 Rip and Miranda ran from the car park into the hospital reception finding they were not the only parents there.

“We’re here for Jonas Hunter,” Miranda said to the receptionist.

The woman nodded and quickly checked her computer, “Dr Snow will be out to speak to you in a few moments.”

Seeing Miranda was about to yell at the woman, Rip caught her arm and moved her to the side, catching her face in his hands.

“Take a breath,” he told her, “She can’t tell us anything.”

Miranda whispered, “I want my boy.”

“I know,” Rip said, “But I’ve learned working with the CCPD that there are procedures they have to follow.”

Sighing Miranda nodded and held onto him when Rip wrapped his arm around her.

“Mr and Mrs Hunter?” a woman said as she walked over to them a few moments later.

Normally Miranda would have corrected her but right now her worry for Jonas overtook everything, “Yes.”

“I’m Dr Snow,” she introduced herself, “And you two have an amazing son. I’ll take you through to him.”

“He’s okay?” Rip demanded.

Dr Snow smiled, “He has a few bumps and bruises but other than that he’s fine. From what I’ve been told he kept all the other kids calm after the crash.”

Rip and Miranda shared a proud smile.

“Mummy,” the familiar voice called as they entered the room, “Daddy.”

“Baby,” Miranda ran over to the bed and hugged her son tightly, “Oh, I was so worried.”

Jonas submitted to the hug for a few minutes before he began to squirm.

“Miranda,” Rip said softly, “Can I hug my son?”

Miranda released the boy finally and Rip gave Jonas a quick hug before checking the large bruise on his cheek.

“The doctor told us that you kept everyone calm,” Rip said, while Miranda fussed over their son.

Jonas shrugged, “Just like you would.”

Pride filled Rip and he pressed a kiss to the top of Jonas’ head, “I am going to check with the doctor when we can take you home.”

As he headed to talk to Dr Snow, Rip pulled out his phone and sent Gideon a message letting her know Jonas was alright.

 Jonas was sleeping by the time they reached the house. Rip eased the little boy out of the back seat of the car and carried him to his bedroom. Together they changed Jonas into his pyjamas, managing not to wake him before sliding him under the covers. Miranda gently tucked him in, smoothing his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. She stepped back and allowed Rip to kiss his son before they tiptoed out the room.

The moment they left the room, Miranda headed to the couch and sat down tears filling her eyes.

“It’s okay,” Rip soothed, sitting at her side, wrapping his arm around her, “He’s safe and the doctor said he wasn’t hurt other than a few bruises.”

Miranda nodded, trying to stop her tears, “I know but I thought I was going to lose him. Rip, I have never been that scared in my life.”

“I know,” Rip hugged her closer for a moment before turning her to look at him, gently wiping the few tears sliding along her cheeks, “I was terrified too but he’s okay and safe in his room.” He rested his forehead against hers, gently stroking her cheek to comfort her, “Jonas is fine, and he looked after everyone else.”

Miranda closed her eyes as she leaned against him, sliding her arms around him, and resting her head against his shoulder. Turning to look at him, Rip wasn’t sure who made the move but suddenly their lips touched in a kiss. Instantly Rip was transported back over ten years and pulled her closer. Parting Rip stared into Miranda’s eyes as she stared at him, but before they could say anything his phone began to buzz.

“It’s Detective Wells,” Rip grimaced, answering the phone he listened worry filling him. When the other man finished, Rip glanced at Miranda who nodded before saying, “I’ll be right there.”

Miranda touched his arm as he hung up, “We’ll be fine. Go and help Gideon.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She hugged him tightly, “We’re fine. We’ll see you tomorrow for dinner with your mother.”

Rip nodded and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her mouth before he grabbed his jacket and headed to his car.

Jonas was safe, he now had to make sure Gideon was.

[fsketchart]

A Second Chance - Part 2

Summary : Wasn't sure how I really felt about this chapter, but I'm gonna wing it. This chapter includes three different perspectives of the story unraveling, all of them take place at different times at once. I really appreciate the kudos and comments from last time, they made my day! I hope you enjoy!

Notes : Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I apologize if this chapter is short, but I look forward to writing the next chapter.

Inspired by @ozmav

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

“Please this is Marc from Paris, France. We desperately need your help, two super villains named Hawkmoth and Mayura, and combine, they’ve made a huge army that has been destroying Paris. Please you have to believe us, our home is being destroyed, and once they have Paris, we have no doubt they, along with the newest villains will be targeting you next, and with an army on their side…Our heroes are growing more and more tired as the days continue, we are part of a small rebellion group against the villains,” Marc said, in a hushed voice. Aurore and Max fidgeted beside him, before speaking up.

“We know you have a lot to do, but please. We only have three heroes, all of which are about 16 years old, and we have some american villains as well. They call themselves the Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and I think another is named Two-Face? We are living in constant fear, and the heroes have been fighting non-stop since the war began. Please, we are begging you!” Aurore cried. Marc furiously shushed her and soon they heard the rattling of a bush. Marc mouthed the words, “Send help,” towards the camera before shutting it off. Max swiftly opened up his laptop and began typing furiously, trying to bypass Lady Wi-Fi’s control. As soon as he did, he hit send and sent it to the Justice League HC. Aurore picked up her umbrella as Marc gripped his spare pair of keys. They nodded, and began to approach the bush.

Suddenly, a figure raced in front of them, with red hair swishing back and forth quickly. Before them, stood a man in a black and white suite with a black mask. On his chest, three primary colors were imprinted as a black beret topped his hair.

Marc’s eyes widen as he realized which Akuma this was, nearly dropping his keys. Aurore on the other hand, just tightened her grip on her umbrella. Marc’s hand was shaking as he stepped in front of Aurore.

“Evillustrator.”

-------┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘-------

By the end of the video, Clark was beyond tired and annoyed. Another call came in from Paris, France requesting back up from imaginary villains. A physco named the Bubbler, Princess Fragrance? A weirdo named Mr.Pidgeon? How gullible do these kids think they are? There has been no documentation of these villains in Paris, France, and no heroes have ever been documented either. Only a couple strange reports from people claiming Paris was dangerous were found, but these reports abruptly stopped as of late. The Justice League has more important things to do than to investigate absurd claims made by teenagers, especially with names like Gigantitan. Really, a little toddler wanting a lollipop, terrifying right? Clark sighed as he closed the video file.

Suddenly, a dark figure hit the glass with a loud thud, and a tiny groan was heard.

“Dude, Bruce, all you have to do is just use the door. That was bulletproof glass for a reason...Just use the door like a normal person, God…” Clark said, hand hitting his forehead. Footsteps were heard and soon the door opened, revealing a tall man holding a keycard. His mask was messed up and tilted, as one ear fell flat. “Uh, your mask is a little, no not there, no like on the left, yeah that’s it. Yeah just tilt it a little...yeah you’re all good. Now, what is it you’re here for?”

“Recently the crimes have been dwindling, there has been no sign of the Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and several other criminals,” he said, throwing a file of papers on the desk. “We have no idea what they’re planning or where they went. I’ve called in some of the other Justice League members, Diana should be arriving later today.”

“Have you tried searching outside of Gotham? They could just be out of town getting supplies…” Clark said, while flipping through the files, reading their last sightings.

“What could possibly be out of town that Gotham doesn’t already have? Whatever they could need, they certainly wouldn’t need to be inactive for months,” Bruce countered. “Have we received any reports that seem unusual?”

“Other than the usual false reports from Paris? Nothing much…” Clark muttered.

“There have been reports from Paris, France? Show them to me,” Bruce stated.

“Look, we’ve received these reports months ago, and we’ve looked into it. All damage to the Eiffel tower being destroyed, or the city of Paris flooding have all been proven false. The tower is 100% in tact and there has never been reported damage or reconstruction records ever documented. Not to mention, the only bit of evidence we have of the damage taking place is from a newbie’s blog called the Ladyblog, and even that is full of rubbish. I’ve already made sure everything is 100% true and none of it seems to-” Clark started, but was abruptly cut off.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Show me the footage. Any lead is better than none,” Bruce stated, already making his way to the computer.

-------┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘-------

“Tikki this was a ridiculous idea! Why did I agree to this?” Marinette spoke, pulling her hair and ruining her pigtails.

“Marinette, you need to calm down, I’m sure we could find somewhere to spend the night…” Tikki tried to reason.

“Where would we spend the night? I don't have the money for a hotel, and I don’t have any relatives to stay with in Gotham. Besides, we can’t just sleep outside, what will happen to the miraculous box? I need to keep it safe!” Marinette cried, pacing back and forth behind a McDonalds. “How will I even meet the heroes of Gotham? What am I supposed to do, just rob a bank and hope they will come?”

“Gotham has one of the highest crime rates in America, I’m sure they will show up eventually, Marinette. Besides, doesn’t your father have any relatives you could stay with?” Tikki offered, while perched on Marinette’s shoulder.

“I think he had an older distant cousin he grew up with, but he left the family a long time ago and we haven’t spoken since he came to visit when I was a little girl. I don’t think he would still remember me…” Marinette trailed off.

“Why do you think that, Marinette? You’re father has always been adamant about visiting family and spending time with each other!” Tikki proclaimed proudly.

“My papa never really stated why we lost touch with him, only that it was dangerous for us to keep in contact with him, and then refused to speak of him again…”

“Marinette...I think it’s worth a try. What have you got to lose? We need somewhere to stay,” Tikki stated quietly.

“I suppose there really isn’t an option. Last time I heard of him, he was serving as a Butler for a Family. Tikki, do you have enough energy to transform?”

“I should have enough to travel, but I won’t be able to give you enough energy to fight in the suit.”

“That’s alright, the Wayne Manor should be nearby. I’ve only seen a few photos from Papa’s photo album but I should be able to recognize it. Tikki, spots on!”

-------┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘-------

It took two hours to track down the house, but eventually Marinette saw the towers of the Wayne Manor, and landed quickly on her feet inside the gates. She slowly walked up to the door, clutching the miracle box to her chest for dear life, and knocked on the door. A tall man with a mustache bowed deeply, wearing a black suit and black gloves.

“You’re back early, Master Bru-” the man said, before freezing on the spot. “Sabine?” Marinette’s eyes watered as she shook her head.

“Marinette,” the girl said, fidgeting with her feet. He stood there, unmoving.

“Is Tom here, with you?” Marinette’s tears ran down her face, face turning red and her body began shaking. Dropping the box, she collided with him and began rapidly shaking her head while sobbing into his suit. He rubbed her back, before turning his attention to the box. He froze, recognizing the box.

“Come inside,” he said, picking up the box swiftly and pushing her inside, and quickly shut the door.

He guided her towards the living room and sat the box down onto the table. Once he calmed her down, he began asking questions.

“What are you doing here in Gotham? Especially without your parents, do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be in Gotham, without supervision?”

“In Paris...” Marinette trailed off, unsure of how to start, “In Paris, there have been villains that have been attacking Paris, creating armies of super villains, bringing American villains in, and taking controlling civilians.” Marinette continued on, explaining the situation of Paris to him in detail, identities and all. Eventually, Tikki came out from behind Marinette with tired fell asleep on her shoulder out of exhaustion. Marinette continued on.

“We need somewhere to stay until we get into contact with Gotham’s heroes. I am so sorry to be an inconvenience to you and I know you’re probably extremely busy, but...Tikki and I were hoping we could stay with you. We don’t have money to rent a hotel room and we need to keep the miracle box safe. I understand if-” but Alfred cut her off.

“You are free to stay here as my guest, it’s about time I repay Tom for what he’s done for me all those years ago. You may stay here for as long as you need. You are family, and you will be safe here.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: In Custody

A chilly fog descended from the steep mountains surrounding the Tibetan village and obscured their view until they looked like little more than dim giant shadows in the distance.

My husband and our two friends -- Lu Mingfei and Uesugi Erii -- met for the final time in the open courtyard of the temple that had played host to us.

“The spoofing of the tracking signal was successful. As far as Cassell College knows, all of you sunk somewhere in the South China Sea.” Erii wrote on her tablet computer.

Mingfei put his one remaining arm around Erii and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. He’d adjusted surprisingly well to his disability, as far as I could tell. But Mingfei always took heavy emotional blows and buried their after effects deep in his heart. That humble nervousness was the only emotion he tended to show so it was hard to tell when something truly rattled him. 

Usually, the first sign that he was losing his grip was his drinking habit. But there wasn’t a beer can in sight. Perhaps he was waiting for me to leave.

Zihang had reprogrammed the tracker that had once been in his tooth to transmit to his phone on command. No more steady pings that might be picked up or predictable. He then made a small incision in the thick scar tissue striping my back and inserted the tracker, stitching the wound himself.

That was our final preparation. The mission was to begin.

Ru’Yi was strapped to my back fast asleep, full of milk from the morning. Her head rested on the back of my neck and she was drooling, soaking through my shirt.

“Don’t worry about anything.” Zihang stroked my cheek and we stared into each other’s eyes for a moment.

I had my mission assignment: Infiltrate the Gattusos by turning myself in and get in touch with Caesar. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that or where I would end up. I thought of them taking Ru’Yi from me and my heart quaked. I took a deep breath.

They thought Mingfei and Zihang were dead. So their guard would be down. Now was the time to strike back at them for killing Susie, for killing Crow. For making my life a living hell.

“I’ll see you soon.” I said, backing away. “Teleporting to Paris.”

I closed my eyes and focused my mind on the gilded hotel I’d stayed in one spring over two years ago.

In a moment, I was enveloped in darkness and cold. I couldn’t feel my heartbeat or hear my own breath. But the emotions sparked by the adrenaline told me that there was no going back.

Nepal was several hours ahead, so I reappeared in the predawn hours in Paris.  The empty streets were well lit however and with the ubiquitous cameras around the French city, EVA would no doubt track me down within minutes.

I settled Ru’Yi in my arms and sat down on a bench under the leaves of a street oak. I took a shaking breath, feeling my nerves. I tried to sing softly.

“The trees they grow high and the leaves they do grow green...” My voice was wispy and trembling. “Many is the time my true love I’ve seen. Many an hour I’ve watch her all alone...”

A shadow moved on the corner of the street. They were fast. A man in a trench coat stood, not approaching, just watching us. I rocked her back and forth, as much to comfort myself as her. 

“She’s young but she’s daily growing...” I glanced down the other side of the street. One by one, the street lamps began to go out.

I felt a chill go down my spine. The French branch was one of the oldest and largest branches in the Secret Society of Dragonslayers. This place was crawling with agents. There was probably a sniper on the roof aiming at us right now.

I didn’t move, making it clear that I wasn’t going to run away. At least the night was warm. The time ticked by and more agents appeared to block off any hope of escape. Without the street lamps around, the darkness closed in on Ru’Yi and I, like we were in an open air cave.

A dark colored car drove up, without headlights. Two men, also in black coats stepped out. One stayed behind, the other approached me.

My throat closed and I looked away, instinctively turning my back to shield Ru’Yi. I listened to his footsteps come closer and then felt the bench shift and creak as he sat next to us.

“I’m... turning myself in.” I said quietly.

“I know.”

My eyes flew open at the familiarity of the voice!  I turned and looked into the face of Lancelot. He was nothing like I remembered. The easy going young man looked like he’d aged a decade. His skin was pale and dark circles ringed his eyes. He looked down at the sleeping Ru’Yi, his face a mask of numbness.

I didn’t know what to say. Susie was my friend. She and Zihang and Lancelot were close. How is he the one who’s here to arrest me?

“Lancelot... I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his blond hair slipping over his shoulder. Then, he lifted one hand and removed the commlink over his ear, shutting it off. “Thank you,” he said. “But I don’t blame you.”

We sat in silence a few seconds longer. My mind went back to that horrible day, when Susie, having fought and lost to Chu Zihang and I, in the end, took a bullet for him. Her body bobbed out to sea with the rest of the debris from the sinking ship.

Lancelot sighed, wringing his hands. “I want you to tell me one thing. Who was that guy?”

I looked from Ru’Yi to Lancelot. He raised his eyes to meet mine.

“I told her not to fight him. I knew he was very strong and ... Dragon Kings tend to surround themselves with powerful people. When I saw how he used Royal Fire... I told her to run. But she was drawn to him. I could tell. She turned off her comm and I watched what he did to her.”

“I wanted to kill him.” His jaw tightened with anger and he hung his head. “When she... told me not to give the order to shoot though... I was confused but... I trusted her. Something in her eyes. She was happy.”

“Then... why did the sniper fire?” I asked softly, confused.

“I canceled the sniper order. But I was overruled.” A shadow seemed to come over him. “The voice the sniper heard was not mine... but ... Agent Shinnosuke.”

I gasped. The man who killed Crow. The man who likely attacked and left Anjou in a coma... was responsible for Susie’s death as well!

“He is the one ... who has given me orders to arrest you and take you back to Italy to face the Gattusos.” His eyes watched me. I was sure I was visibly trembling now. “Before I do... I just want to know. Who was it? Who did Susie give her life for?”

I chewed my lip. Anything I said now had a high chance of tipping Fujiwara Shinnosuke that Zihang and Mingfei were still alive. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

He suddenly grabbed my shoulders, his face pressed close to mine. I whimpered in fear. “Tell me!” He hissed. “Ever since, I can’t get his face out of my head! I feel like I should know him. Susie knew him! Please! Carli! Please tell me!”

Tears tracked their way down my cheek. “You’re right. She did know him. But like you, she didn’t recognize him. Not at first. If I told you, then... maybe you could reason it away... like she did.” I forced my eyes to look at him, at the torment in his face. “But if you remember on your own? There will be no doubt in your mind.”

“This might be the last time we talk.” He whispered. “I... I really don’t blame you. I don’t know who to believe any more. Susie she...” His voice caught.

“Do you trust her?”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

I swallowed hard. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t do that without jeopardizing everything. “Then... ... stay alive.”

I held my hand out to him to take.

“But... you’re Susie’s friend.” His voice cracked. This had to be torture for him and for Shinnosuke to send him of all people to arrest me -- this had to be a calculated move on his part.

“Just do it.” I stared at him, willing him to listen. “I can’t escape now anyway.”

Lancelot took my hand and put his commlink back in his ear and stood up.

We walked together to the car and he let me get in first in the back seat. He took the passenger side. He put his hand to his ear. “Returning to the airport.”

[blarfkey]

Zevran/Ellana Assasin Game AU Rated E

I wrote this like over a year ago and was going to post it to AO3 when Dear Fen’harel is over. But in the meantime, I figured I slap it up here since my other smut seemed popular!

"Want to come in?" Ellana asks at the door. "You know, wait in a safe harbor till you figure out a plan for Sera."

"The idea has merit," he says. "I think I shall take you up on it."

Ellana unlocks the back door and Zevran follows her inside. She tosses the keys in the bowl on the coffee table. 

"Where is Josephine?" Zevran asks. 

"She and Krem have class until four and then they sometimes catch dinner together," she says. "You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure." He fishes out a black flash drive from his pocket. "I have The Last King."

"Isn't that still in theaters?" she asks. 

The smile he flashes her would be patronizing on another person."Oh Ellana. A man of my talents is not restricted by --"

"The law?"

"Arbitrary distribution," he says instead.

"It's not some shaky cam bullshit from Rivain is it?"she asks. 

"I'm offended that you would think I would settle for anything but the best."

"I guess we'll see," she says. 

She slips off her backpack and pulls out her laptop, placing it on the coffee table. Zevran makes himself comfortable on the couch as she turns on her computer and logs in. 

"I assume you know where to go from here," she says.

Zevran takes her laptop in hand, sticking in his flash drive and dancing his fingers over the keys until the movie pops up on screen. Ellana settles in next to him. They curl up easily together, Ellana's arm draped around his waist, her head nestled against his chest.. Zevran wraps an arm around her shoulders, fingertips brushing against the bare skin of her arm. 

She will let the movie play for a little while before making an excuse for the bathroom. Then she'll sneak into her room and fish that godsdamn knife from her jeans.

"If we went to my apartment we could have watched this on the TV," Zevran grumbles a little.

"If we went to your apartment we would have to pass through fifteen different booby traps just to get to the living room," says Ellana. 

He tweaks the tip of her ear. "You're not wrong, I hate to say. At least you had the sense to get a laptop with a wide screen."

"Hush. I thought you wanted to watch this movie."

"I merely want to pass the time. There are other . . .options for doing so, if you desire." He slides a fingertip slowly down her jawline, so light it could be waved off as accidental though she knows better than to assume that.

She rolls her eyes, but thoughts of kissing him flash through her mind. Ellana never quite forgot that night in the Hanged Man when Zevran kissed the breath out of her.

"Watch the movie," she says with fond exasperation.

"As my lady commands."

About twenty minutes in, Ellana shifts a bit and then sits up.

"Bathroom break," she says. "You don't have to pause it."

"But you're missing the most politically charged point of the movie," he protests.

"Yeah. I know. This is on purpose," she says. "Just make sure to pause if there's a fight scene."

She slips off the couch and heads down the hallway. Once out of sight, she quickens her pace and ducks into her room. There are about three pairs of jeans in her laundry basket and she grabs all of them, bunching the fabric around the pockets, desperately searching. She's got maybe a minute before Zevran gets suspicious and if she doesn't get the jump on him, she won't have a chance in hell. 

Finally her fingers feel the lump of plastic and she fishes it out of the pocket. Merciful Fucking Creators --

She doesn't register the soft sound of footsteps, barely audible on the carpet, until Zevran's hand closes around the wrist that holds the knife. 

"Oh Ellana." He whispers against her temple. She can feel the heat of him against her back. "You have much to learn in the art of subterfuge. You didn't even flush the toilet or shut the bathroom door."

Her heart thuds in her chest. Well. There goes having any kind of advantage. Zevran may be sneaky and he's probably fast, but she doubts that he's stronger than her. He does nothing but sit on his ass all day, flirting and hacking. 

She jabs her elbow into his chest, knocking him back enough to slip from his grip and dash for the door. Maybe she can still salvage this if she gets out of the apartment and hides somewhere until Zevran gives up looking for her and she can ambush him again. Hell, it worked on Krem.

But Zevran's arms wrap around her middle and haul her against his chest. She could slam her head back against his and break his nose, to slam her heel against his toes, but this isn't a real fight and she doesn't want to hurt him. 

But she has no compunctions of reaching behind her to tickle his sides. He jerks back, hands shoving her way in reflex.  Before she can turn around and put the knife to his throat, he grabs her arms and twists them behind her back. With speed and a surprising amount of force, he pushes her against the wall, blocking any movement with the press of his body.

Ellana's nerves alight in a way that has nothing to do with the fight and everything to do with his breath panting against her ear, the warmth of his body behind her, the fact that she can't break his grip no matter how much she struggles. 

"Ellana, carina, you should stop moving like that," he breathes against her, "or you are going to start feeling some unintended consequences."

Something swoops low in her gut at the thought. She twists even more than before, and savors the groan that Zevran makes in response. 

There is no breaking out of his hold, so Ellana has to play dirty.

"Zevran, you're hurting me," she gasps. 

Immediately he lets go and steps back. Ellana whirls around, brings the knife up --

Zevran grabs her wrist and slams it against the wall. It takes her willpower not to drop the knife to the floor. Before she can think about shoving him off, he crowds against her, the "unintended consequences" pressing against her thigh. Her other hand fists into his shirt, but she can't decide whether to shove him away or pull him closer. This close, all she can see is the amber of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the dark frame of his lashes.

The world goes still.

Her heart slams in her chest.

"Oh? What is this?" Zevran murmurs. His lips are so close she can almost feel them form the words. "Do you like this, Ellana?"

He takes his other hand and lays it flat, just below her collarbone, pressing her further against the wall. 

Heat floods her cheeks, her whole body throbbing. And she looks down, unable to hold his knowing gaze, only to catch her eyes on his lips. 

"Do you like the illusion that you have lost control," she watches those lips whisper. "That you are at my complete and utter mercy?"

She swallows thickly, her breath coming uneven and jerky.

"No," she says, the barest whisper.

Zevran rubs the tip of his nose against hers. "I think you're lying."

Despite their compromising position, despite the unmistakable proof of his desire digging into her thigh, Zevran remains a gentleman. His lips do not touch her, his hands do not wander away from her wrists. He initiates nothing and waits for her lead.

It's infuriating. 

Ellana leans forward that half inch of distance between them and kisses him. 

Zevran responds immediately with a sharp intake of breath, his fingers clenching around her wrist. Once granted permission, he kisses her with an unbridled fervor she can barely keep up with. The hand on her chest moves to cradle her face, fingertip skating down the edge of one ear in a way that makes her gasps in his mouth. Her free hand creeps up to the back of his neck and tugs at his hair. Another low groan sounds against her lips.

The dulled edge of her plastic knife digs into her palm from the force of her clenching it, but Ellana barely notices. She is suddenly on fire. Her blood roars in her ears, her heart feels like it will burst from her chest, and she knows, with great certainty, that her sanity is slipping away each time he sucks on her bottom lip.

"Te deseo," Zevran whispers, dragging his lips away from hers and nipping up her jawline. Ellana arcs her back at the touch of his lips on the shell of her ear. "Todo sobre ti me enciende."

She has no clue what that means but it sounds delicious against her ear. Maybe she will ask him later when her rational thought returns. Zevran sucks at the column of her neck and the moan that escapes her is almost humiliating. She wants -- she doesn't know what she wants but fenedhis she wants it badly.

"Bed," she gasps, tugging at his shirt.

His breath hitches by her ear. "Yes."

He releases his grip on her wrist and spins her around, walking her backwards with his hands digging into her waist as he nibbles down the side of her neck. She lets the knife drop silently to the floor.

Fuck it. Whatever. She'll get him some other time. Right now their stupid game is farthest thing from her mind.

When her knees reach the edge of the bed, Zevran pushes her onto the mattress hard enough to send her bouncing, and then climbs on top of her. He slides one leg in between her own, pressing against her center and Ellana gasps at the shock of it. Zevran's mouth descends upon her, kissing her like he is trying to drink every sound she makes. Her hips buck at a desperate attempt to chase that feeling again and he shoves her back down by the hip.

Desire flares up in her chest. She drags her hands down to his belt and tries to pull him down, mold him to her. 

He takes both her hands in his and shoves them above her head before diving into another kiss. His knee presses into her groin, sending that spark through her blood and she tries to thrust back against it but it's not enough.

Merciful fucking creators she is going to combust.

Zevran breaks the kiss and licks down the column of her throat.

"What do you want, Ellana?" he whispers, her name like a lush obscenity.

"I don't -- I don't know," she whines. 

"Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes."

He nips at her collarbone through her shirt.

"Where?"

"Anywhere," she gasps. "Everywhere. I don't care."

He transfers one of her wrists to his other hand, keeping both her hands held firmly above her head. With a feather light touch he takes his free hand and trails a path down her throat, past her clavicle, to ghost over breast. 

"Here?"

"Yes."

He cups her breast in his hand, his thumb pressing right over her nipple and Ellana's hips come unmoored from the bed. 

"You keep thrashing around and I will find something to tie you down with," he warns.

The thought of that ignites something in her. 

"Oh, you like the sound of that, don't you? Why am I not surprised?" 

His hand continues its journey, dancing down her ribs and over her stomach. His fingers skate over the button of her jeans, tickling down to her inner thigh before dragging his thumb heavily down the seam of her jeans, right where she needs it the most, and not even the thickness of her clothing can hide the sensation of it. An embarrassing, keening noise erupts from her mouth as she arcs against his touch.

"Can I touch you here?"

"Please," she whispers. "Please. Zevran, I'm dying. Quit asking and just fucking do something."

He chuckles against her throat. "As my lady commands."

His fingers dive for the button of her jeans and flips it open with a twist of his wrist. The zipper is dragged down with it and then his fingers are slipping inside of her --

 Ellana screams.

"Yes, that's what you wanted, wasn't it?" he whispers, pressing a kiss against her ear. "My god, you are wet. Poor Ellana, how you have suffered this day from my calloused teasing."

His fingers slide in and out of her, a sensation indescribably delicious, satisfying an ache she didn't know she had. His thumb presses circles against her clit -- her chest tightens, it almost hurts --

"Breathe, mi amor. Remember to breathe."

She lets out a sharp, gasping breath and sucks in another. Her body is growing hot, something tight winding up in her like a bow string. Zevran nips at the shell of her ear.

"I am going to let go for a moment and you are not to move your hands, understand?"

What? She can't even think straight enough to answer.

His fingers suddenly go still, teasing at her entrance and the sudden loss of it makes her whine.

"You didn't answer me."

Her fingers spasm in her comforter, the ache soaring into psychotic, obsessive need.

"Yes," she hisses. "Yes, you sick bastard."

"That's my good girl." He kisses her brow, his fingers sliding back into her, and she releases a breath she forgot she was holding.

With expert efficiency, Zevran releases her wrists and slips behind her, unclipping her bra. Then he drags his fingers across her rib cage and pinches her nipple.

She almost shouts at the pleasure-pain that zaps straight to the center of her.  But it's nothing compared to the feeling of his mouth there, lightly trapping the bud between his teeth and sucking and holy hell--

"F-fuck,"she gasps. "What are you doing to me?"

She can feel his chuckle vibrate against her ribs. 

"I'm making you sing," he says, his lips drifting back towards hers. His fingers pick up where his teeth left off. "You are so close, my sweet Ellana. I can feel it. Won't you sing for me?"

It takes only a few more strokes before Ellana is keening, back arching, fingers digging into the sheets, all while Zevran whispers something in Antivan that she couldn't even begin to process. The feeling of her orgasm tears through her nerves like a bolt of lightning.

She's made herself come before but it has never, not ever, felt like this. Chest heaving, face panting against the sheets, it takes several moments to collect herself.

When she opens her eyes, Zevran is straddling her, licking his fingers, the other hand holding a plastic knife with her name on it delicately at her throat. 

Her brain short circuits at the sight of him licking her cum that it takes a moment to process the knife.

"Are you -- are you fucking serious?" she stammers. "How? How?"

"I got Sera this morning." He smirks around the tip of his ring finger. "You taste delicious, by the way."

Her stomach drops, the realization of what happened a bucket of ice on the warm pleasure of earlier.

"So you were lying this whole fucking time?" She shoves him and Zevran rolls easily off of her. 

"And you were not?" he asks, eyebrows raised. "Using your hospitality as a ruse to catch me off-guard, kissing me to put me in a vulnerable state?"

"Hey, I dropped my knife! A long time ago, I might add."

"Yes, I know," he says smugly. "I'm very good at what I do. Did you really think you could out-tempt me?"

Ellana bites her lip. She hadn't been trying to distract him, then. In that moment she had just wanted him badly enough to throw her cultivated caution to the wind and just go for something she has only ever daydreamed about. How easily he went along, the fervor with which he kissed her, she thought he felt the same way.

But it was a game to him. A trick. The thought that touching her was something to tolerate while he manipulated her for his own advantage -- 

She unclenches her fists and takes a deep slow breath, blinking the sudden hotness in her eyes. How naive he would think of her if he knew how much this bothered her! To Zevran, sex is like a handshake or a high five. It has no meaning for him.

Zevran nudges her shoulder with his and grins. "Don't be embarrassed, Ellana. The way you responded -- how long has it been since someone touched you?"

Ellana swallows, unable to tell him the truth.

 "Ellana?" His grin fades and he goes very still.

She can't bring herself to look at him. 

 "You've never been touched by another person, have you? You're a virgin?"

She slowly shakes her head and dares to steal a glance at his reaction.

Zevran looks horrified and now she feels like she wants to combust for an entirely different reason. 

"It's not that big a deal, okay?" she says, scooting off the bed and heading for the door. "You used it to beat me, it was all fun and games, whatever. Let's just go back to the movie and we can pretend this whole thing never happ --"

His hand catches her arm and pulls her back to face him. It’s a hold she could easily break and for a second she considers it. But one look at his face, at the soft intensity of his eyes, keeps her still.

"I'm sorry, Ellana. I didn't know."

She swallows, wanting desperately for this whole afternoon to be over. "It's alright. I'm not -- upset. Like I said, its not a big deal, okay? It's not like we actually had -- had sex."

Her mouth trips over the words like the pathetic blushing virgin she is. 

"You are upset and therefore it is a big deal." he says with a little exasperation. "And by some people's definition of sex, we absolutely had it. However you want to categorize what is sex and what isn't, it's not insignificant what you allowed me to do with you. I would have never intentionally trivialized it for the sake of a game. Ellana, I am sorry."

The fact that he regrets it stings even worse than his nonchalance.

"It's okay," she says, throat tight. "I'm not mad, I'm just a little embarrassed I guess. Just thought you were  -- into it like I was instead of just pretending to win the game." 

The moment the admission slips out, she wants to hit herself and the mortification ends her babbling. "Which is stupid, I know, because I'm sure that was like nothing to you and --"

"You think I don't want you."

His tone surprises her. It's flat --  almost angry. It doesn't match at all the tender way he cradles the side of her face, his thumb swiping at wetness hiding in the corner of her eye.

"You think that night at the Hanged Man hasn't haunted me for the last year." His eyes search her, study her. "You think I wouldn't drop everything to have you any way you would let me, any time you wanted me to.You have no idea how much I've dearly wanted to touch you."

The implications of that send her mind reeling.

"You're not fucking with me?" she demands.

A ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. "Not yet. But I've kept it to myself because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If you never want to touch me again, I will find joy in just your company. But never doubt the hold you have over me, Ellana Lavellan. It's not something that happens to me often."

There is a riot happening in her chest, a response to this knowledge that shocks her. Something more than fondness that has sat in the shadows of her heart and unacknowledged. It's definitely something she needs to think about later. 

For now all she can do is take his hand, lead him into the living room, and curl back up with him on the couch. Zevran allows her silence, happy to run his hand up and down her back as they resume the movie.

[drsteggy]

For the fanfic writer ask thing: 2, 13, 27, 34! Happy Friday!

Happy Friday @st0rmyskies ! Thank you for the asks!!

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

I have a pretty high stress and occasionally emotionally charged job that was spiking into my red zones prior to March 2020 when the screws got tightened, and my job got busier, and everyone got more stressed and all the escape things I did had to stop. I could not go to cons and dressing in cosplay at home feels weird to me. There were no model horse shows, and while the hobby has adapted to photo shows, I have only been able to participate as a judge and again, the social aspect is gone. I could not see my friends and work really became my entire world. I have always told myself that could never happen.

So I threw myself into a thing I’d written just to dump an idea that then became 9,000 words and pantsed it into 88,000 words and wow it was a ride at times but it did get me through some shit when I was angry and sad all at once, and there wasn’t a way to physically burn the crap via competition. I like that the particular sandbox I’m in is very flexible with canon (or not) and seems to welcome remixing and retooling.

I thought I’d be one and done but I managed to make friends as I wrote and it was fun bouncing silly ideas off each other, and experimenting with things to just play with them and I find that I really enjoy this new way to play. I don’t know if I have another novel length thing in me but I do have a couple irons in the fire and I did my first fic exchange and I’ve applied to a couple zines (I’m hoping to hear from the first of these today squeeee!) so I hope that going forward, once the world allows me to cosplay at cons, and pack up a carload of plastic horses and drive 12 hours to meet up with other people with carloads of plastic horses again, I’ll still play with it.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

The X Files! The show started the same year I started grad school and I was hooked immediately. I also got online the same year. One day, a fellow fan/classmate told me about a Usenet group where people wrote stories about the X Files and Star Trek!!!! It took several years, but I did write one story and I remember getting it beta read and I don’t think it ever got posted because I also thought it never was finished and then lost as I moved computers.

Then like 3 weeks ago I was digging through my hard drive for something and I found it! And it was done! So I posted it on New Year’s Day, and I am so freaking happy I have it back. Hooray for digital hoarding.

27. What’s the nicest comment you ever received?

It’s hard to pick just one, because I've had a lot that touched me, but this stands out to me. I joined a small discord server that focused on my fandom and posted a link to my then in progress longfic. I wanted people to read it but I was getting frustrated that no one seemed interested-I do a relatively small fandom and everyone wanted to read Marvel and Harry Potter.

I woke up in the morning and someone on the discord said something like “oh hey I’m reading this and no regrets” and then I opened my email and this person had binged the entire thing I had at that point and commented on every chapter. I was terrified because I had been crossposting to fanfiction dot net and already had some kinda mean anonymous people who I could not interact with. These comments though were gentle and encouraging and picked out things I’d written and praised them and I went from being completely terrified to realizing I’d probably found my people.

I do like it when people tell me they thought Old!Link would be boring or weird but they tried it anyway and ended up loving it.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of

This is the end of chapter 14 of the long fic. I like it because it’s a point where Link is starting to clumsily grapple with the trauma of his life, though it’s not going well for him. He is making decisions that don’t serve him well, and make him more upset. He is angry at his lot and starting to lash out at people who want to support and help him, and idk it was delicious to write this.

Plus I am also happy with how my version of the Arbiter’s Grounds came out because I have not played that bit of Twilight Princess yet.

“Hylia, have you tired of sending children in your stead? Are you sending an old man in your name now?”

The voice has a smokey texture to it he didn’t hear in his dreams. He swivels his head, looking for the source. He has done this before, and he knows what is next. He wrenches the sword out of the skull, and slides to the floor.

He is ready.

“Who do you think you are? Do you really think you are worthy of that tunic you wear?”

He snarls “You can decide after we dance. Let’s go.”

There’s a throaty laugh in response. Link stands his ground, relaxing his hips and knees in preparation to fight. He rolls his right wrist, giving the Master Sword a showy flip. The blade is glowing and he can feel a low thrum through his arm. He hears the faint sound of glass breaking somewhere.

“Not today, old man. Not today.”

“But soon.”

And like that, the presence is gone, and it’s just him and a giant pile of dead bone. He thinks there’s a flash of light on the corner of his vision and when he turns to it, there’s a wooden box that he is sure was not there before. Inside that; the red, heart shaped crystal and an enormous topaz. He scoops them up, pausing as the red crystal restores him. Using the hook shot once more to get out of the pit, he then heads out into the desert night; back to Gerudo.

It’s cold; and the sky is a deep, dark blue, filled with pinpoints of light. He pauses once to look up and name the constellations. The Wind Fish. Aquamentus. Creatures from stories. He catches himself wondering if she is looking up at the night sky and naming the same stars. He pushes on. None of this seems fair, suddenly.

He is back at the gates at dawn. The guards eye him, wondering how much trouble he is going to be. He feels like a toxic combination of tired and frustrated and angry. He feels like he might be trouble.

He barks at them. “Tell the queen of Hyrule her hero is at the gates for her.”

[nikoalaa]

usually this is something i’d post on a side blog with no tags or followers (just to get out of my head), but i think this time i want the possibility of someone helping. idk how long this will be but i’ll put it under a read more when i’m on my computer.

i’ve been struggling more lately. idk if it’s just the pandemic and quarantine and everything getting to me, but this has all been happening before too, just maybe not as often. i’m more anxious, i’m more depressed, i want to shut myself away from friends and not leave my house much unless it’s a quick trip somewhere by myself. i’m so tired all the time. i’m just so, so exhausted. and since i’m home a lot with nothing to do, i’ll sleep. my schedule is so messed up. i sleep basically 5am-2pm and then sometimes still take a nap. like today i slept 5 or 6 am- 2, woke up and had something small to eat, sat at my computer and then slept again 6:30pm-9pm. i jokingly call this my “unemployed schedule” with my parents, but i think they just think i’m lazy.

and speaking of them, i think a lot of my problems i have with myself would be nonexistent if i just had good parents. my crooked teeth wouldn’t be an issue if my dad didn’t hate doctors and was scared of the dentist, therefore never making appointments for me or my brother, resulting in us both not having good teeth. my weight and unhealthy relationship to food wouldn’t be an issue if my mom would have just made me eat a god damn vegetable when i was a kid instead of just giving me chicken nuggets so i would stop whining. and when i was chubbier then other kids, instead of herself trying to fix my diet by actually cooking healthy food and making me eat it, she made me see a doctor and go to group sessions of other kids in similar situations (that i was very uncomfortable going to, to the point of me crying, but she forced me to go anyway). which none of that helped anyway, it just made me self conscious about eating so i now hate food and when i do eat in public, i feel gross and that people are staring at me. and now my body has tricked itself that if i’m out in public, i can only eat very little or else i get sick and throw up. and my mental illness could be in check if my parents just put in any effort. they’ve been aware of my depression since i was in 3rd grade (which my mom would phrase as “you don’t seem as happy anymore”) and i recall having anxiety since kindergarten. i get that we didn’t have a lot of money when i was growing up, so maybe they just made me see the guidance counselor every friday for two school years. which is fine, that’s what they could do and it was at least something idk. but after that it’s like they stopped caring. i went on to public school after that and i hated it. i constantly would go to the nurses office in 5th grade and pretend being sick so my mom could pick me up or some how get me home. that should have been a red flag. or whenever my dad asked me how my day was and i never said “good”, another red flag. i was so depressed for the rest of my time in public school, and they didn’t do anything. sure i would join clubs or play sports to try to make myself happy and have fun, but it wasn’t ever enough. high school was even worse. i was angry all the time. just that angry emo kid sat in the back of the class. and eventually i lost almost all my friends. i started cutting, but i kept it hidden until i got changed after gym class one day. someone i was kinda friends with spotted the cuts on my upper arm. they gave me a knowing look and asked what happened. i said my dog scratched me. but it was way too many cuts and too dark to be dog scratches. but they didn’t ask again and i was grateful because i didn’t want help at the time. rest of school went on, the cutting stopped (or at least stopped being as frequent. relapses now and again), had panic attacks before and during school (that i always seemed like a burden for having when my mom had to deal with it), then i had a manipulative friend/ex gf i’m not even going to get into rn. long section short, my parents knew i was struggling. they would mention it off handedly. “you didn��t seem as happy” “we saw their was something going on” stuff like that. but they did nothing to help me. never asked questions, never talked to me, never asked if i needed help or someone else to talk to.

after highschool the panic attacks weren’t as frequent, but the depression was there. and they knew it. because even now and then i would bring it up, especially when i was having a breakdown. i would tell them i need help, i need a therapist and i need medication. she said (because it was always my mom i would go to) that she would see what she could do. then nothing happened. another time, full break down, and i fully told her i am suffering and i need help. she made me feel like such a burden and an inconvenience. she said she had no idea how to get me a therapist. no idea where to start. so i told her, mainly yelled, to ask this one lady we know (someone who had actually done more for my mental health than my own mother) for advice because i know her two kids go to therapy and stuff. she said she would try but she never did. few weeks ago, i have the biggest panic attack i’ve had in a while. full hyperventilating, almost going to throw up, all because there was a bug in my room trapped under a bowl. that is not healthy. i’m sobbing and gasping for air as my dad is trying to get the fast bug off the floor but not lose it, and once it’s gone i’m in bed sobbing and heaving and my whole body is twitching uncontrollably. she thinks she’s hot shit because she did that “5 things you can touch” bull shit once i was starting to calm. nothing again after that. what they did, they bought a hand vacuum so i could catch bugs myself. i guess so i won’t have to bother them at 4 in the morning and again freaking the fuck out. all in all, if they got me therapy as a teen and i had meds, i probably would be much much much better off. i won’t even go into the trans stuff rn. i think they think it went away because they ignored it and i don’t talk about it with them. even tho in the rest of the world away from family, i go by my chosen name and my friend calls me “he”. but it’s been almost 4 years, if not already 5 years, since i came out to them. they said they looked up therapy and stuff but again, nothing ever happened. i joke with my parents and say they’re lucky i don’t steal my dogs prozac and they laugh. i know it’s exactly the one used for people because it’s the same exact one my ex took. these days i’m starting to see things out of the corner of my eye, but nothing is there. i tell my mom i think i have adhd or something because i’ve read symptoms and it would make sense. and i also don’t remember a time where my head wouldn’t just be quiet. even now. it never is. but she says i was tested and they didn’t say i had adhd. when i was 7... and it’s misdiagnosed in afab people... and especially since i was anxious as a child.. and nervous around the lady who tested me. when. i. was. 7. shit develops later in life. but she won’t believe me because she says she’s trained to see the signs for her work. but then she’ll bring up how my uncle, grandma, and dad, are like the poster kids for adhd. and she just won’t believe me.

i’m really struggling with just everything. and i feel guilty that i’m even struggling and “feeling bad”. i’m a white kid from the philly suburbs. everything could be much much worse for me. but then again, i know thinking like this isn’t good for me. just because it could be worse, doesn’t mean it still can’t be a hell of a lot better too. i just want to be okay. i want to be healthy and happy. i’ve never really gotten to experience it all. my happiness seems fake and it fades away. my idea of health is “going to the gym and the right amount of anorexia.” i know that’s not healthy but that’s just the only way i know. my mom doesn’t seem to care anyway. i tell her that when i am working or i was in school, i would only have like one meal a day. she didn’t say a thing. i just want to be happy. i don’t want to die. i really don’t. i hate being alive but like, i’m already here. i’m not going to take myself out. but it’s just so hard to exist a lot of the time. idk how i’ve done it this long. and i can tell it’s gonna get bad again because i tried to cut myself a few nights ago. the knife wasn’t sharp enough to really make a mark but i had no energy to keep trying. i really need help but idk what to do anymore.

[risingfire17-the-weeb-trash]

The Ones Who Walk Away- Chapter 5- Memory Meets Reality

Yoosung has a lot of questions about Luciel and how he’s related to the strange boy from his past, but neither Luciel nor Rika will give him any answers! Will he find some if he goes back to the cathedral where it all started?

               He told me his name and then left.

                 But he told me his name.

                 Rika and Jihyun came home shortly after Luciel left, which didn’t give me much time to process everything that had just happened. Not sure what to make of the whole situation, I decided not to bring it up. I couldn’t figure out why, but I didn’t yet feel comfortable telling Rika anything that had happened with Luciel. Not until I’d had a chance to sort things out.

                 And of course, on the way home, she asked me, “Did everything go all right with the computer repair guy?”

                 “Yeah, I gave him the envelope like you said.”

                 “How did he seem to you?” I had really hoped she would leave it at making sure he got his payment. Besides, why did she care about anything else? Well, she did know him. He had said that. But how did she know such a strange boy?

                 “Lu-“ I stopped short of saying his name. Why was I struck with a sudden dread of saying his name?

                 The way he whispered it to me like he didn’t dare let anyone else hear.

                 “I’m sorry I can’t tell you my name. It really is a secret.” The words he had so desperately spoken four years ago.

                 And could I not even trust Rika?

                 “That boy does not exist.” She had said that back then.

                 “L-look, I was kind of busy with my homework. I’m sorry I didn’t pay closer attention.”

                 Rika paused, scanning me, and I hung my head in what I hoped she thought was shame at my carelessness. After a moment, she sighed with a smile.

                 “English?”

                 “Yeah.”

                 “That always was your worst subject. Did it go okay?”

                 “Yeah, I think I’m getting better!”

                 “That’s great, Yoosung!” We drove in silence for a while. When we pulled in front of my house, Rika stopped me from exiting the car. “Yoosung.” Her voice sounded hesitant.

                 “Yeah?”

                 “You’ll be seeing more of him from now on. Be careful around him.” Be careful? What did she mean? Was Luciel dangerous? If he was, then why would he be in Rika’s house?

                 “The computer guy? Why?”

                 She gave me a bright smile that had always reassured me, but somehow fell short of that now. “That boy’s lead a troubled life, but he has so much potential. So I’ve been helping him. He’s a little rough around the edges. Please don’t hold it against him; he’s trying so hard. But be careful, okay?”

                 “Oh, okay!” Was that all? She thought I would be afraid of him because he was a little awkward? Okay, maybe I was a bit, but I also wanted to give him a chance. Especially if he was someone Rika was trying to help! I left her car almost completely assured of the situation, until I remembered, once again, her words from four years ago:

                 “That boy does not exist.”

                 Well, she hadn’t known him back then. He said he hadn’t gone to her church until two years ago. But why had she been so insistent? The way she’d said those words, it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than me that he didn’t exist. Or like she was trying to hide his existence?

                 No. Rika wouldn’t lie to me. She was just afraid for my health, convinced I had imaginary friends at my age. That was the first time she’d doubted me, and it had hurt so much. Looking back, that’s also when I lost the one person I could tell everything to. And somewhere in the midst of my pain and effort to never be rejected by her again, I started to believe that red-haired boy really was some sort of dream. Everything about that encounter had certainly been fantastical enough.

                 But then that boy had reappeared in my life and made me question everything all over again. I was thoroughly convinced Luciel was the boy I had ditched Sunday school with all those years ago, though he insisted we’d never met before now. Or maybe he just didn’t want to tell me. He was just as secretive now as he was back then. And I was too afraid of Rika’s reaction to ask her of the connection between her computer guy and the boy she’d insisted was in my head.

                 Rika said he’d had a troubled life. I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it did explain some things that didn’t add up about him back then. Like the tattered clothes. The unkempt hair. The way he roamed the city with no adult like it was the most natural thing in the world. And the way he seemed like he was hiding from someone. Maybe a lot of someones.

                 But who did he have to be hiding from to fear telling anyone his name? The police? Was he a criminal? No, Rika would never let a criminal in her house, no matter how much she wanted to help them. Besides, he was around my age. How could a 10-year-old be a criminal?

                 Besides, for all his confidence that had so enraptured me when I was 10, behind it he seemed…afraid. It had flashed across his face a few times back then, but I had not recognized it at the time. When I tried to stop him from leaving the church. When I tried to stop him from leaving me behind. When he had sent me inside that store. And four years later, he still had a spark of that fear. When I recognized him. And when I asked about his past. There was a moment, before he turned the entire thing into a joke, where he looked into my eyes, absolutely terrified. In that moment, I probably would have done anything to ease his fear.

                 I’d never been so overcome with a desire to pull someone close before. But at that time, that’s exactly what I had wanted: to keep him so close to me that whatever he was afraid of couldn’t possibly touch him. What would have happened next if I had? Would his chest against mine feel warm? Would he rest his head on my shoulder? Let me run my fingers through his soft curls? Would he look at me with trust in his bright eyes? Would he pull me even closer and…

                 No. I would not let that scene keep playing in my head past that point. He’s a guy; I should not be thinking like that! Even though something about it felt…familiar. Like my mind was trying to replay a forgotten memory just beyond my reach. Or more likely that my stressed and lonely mind was seeking escape in anything it could find, no matter how messed up!

                 I think it was safe to say I had developed an unhealthy fixation on Luciel. During the time I should have been thinking of nothing but my studies for the entrance exams, thoughts of him kept invading my mind. I kept asking myself the same questions about him again and again when I should be focusing on review questions.  And those weird daydreams didn’t stop. Great; if I failed my entrance exams, not only would I live in the shame of having fallen short of my family’s expectations, but it would all be because I was thinking like a hom- no; I couldn’t even think the word!

                But somehow, I did get into the high school I had aimed for. With exams finally over, I could let out the breath I had been holding and relax for the rest of middle school. At least, I could put my test stress to rest. That did nothing to solve my problem of obsessively thinking of a certain redhead. And I highly doubted the month-long break before high school would, either.

                 Especially when Rika asked me to volunteer at a church event. The event seemed simple enough. It was a door-to-door drive to sell tickets to a fundraising event. Annoying, lots of rejection in store, but simple. What wasn’t simple, however, was that I spent the entire week leading up to the event wondering if Luciel would be there. He had told me he went to her church, after all.

                  And what made it even less simple was that he was there. And he was nothing like what I expected. Given his secrecy and unconventional behavior, I figured he would be a something of a recluse. However, he was…dazzling. He spoke to everyone with a smile that lit up the whole cathedral. He joked, he shook hands, he clapped backs, he moved in a confident manner that charmed everyone around him. And there were a lot of people around him; he seemed quite popular around here. And those who weren’t talking to him were talking about him.

                 “Oh my, Luciel is looking so handsome today! Don’t you think, Hana?”

                 “Yeah! I wish I could be his partner for the donation drive!”

                “Now, now, you know it would be improper for a boy and girl to pair up! Indecent things could happen!”

                “Oh I would certainly hope so!”

               “Goodness, calm down! I’ll have to go to confession just for hearing this!”

                “As if you aren’t thinking the same thing, Yoonah!”

                 Pfft. I may not have been here in a long time, but I remembered Hana and Yoonah. They pretended to be so pious, but they were bullies and gossips of the worst caliber. I bet Luciel would see right through their pathetic show. Not that I cared.

                Because I was quite angry with Luciel. Because he was a liar. He had told me his name was a secret, but everyone here knew it. Of course they did. People didn’t make secrets of their names. It was just a stupid joke. But I fell for it. I let myself believe that I was special to him in some way. Just for knowing his name. Man, how stupid could I get? I had wasted months thinking about this guy who saw me as nothing more than the butt of a sick joke! All his jokes were sick! He was sick! I wanted nothing to do with him ever again!

                “Yoosung!” Crap. I tried to pretend I hadn’t heard him, but he ran to catch up to me, throwing a jovial arm around me and giving me that self-assured grin that had already taken up way too much of my headspace. I tried not to think about that, or about how radiant his eyes looked, or how you could really tell how in shape he was in his well-fitted white button-up shirt and black slacks.

                “Long time no see, Yoosung!”

               “Yeah, well, I had entrance exams to study for.”

               “Ah! I heard you got into the best school around! Rika’s been telling everyone for weeks!” At the mention of my cousin, I was even more pissed off. Was this guy playing Rika the way he had played me?

               “Funny she’d tell you. She never tells me anything about you.” I didn’t even bother keeping the vitriol out of my voice.

               “Um, is everything okay?” His convincing look of concern made me even angrier.

               “Why don’t you tell me? I spent all this time worried if you were okay, thinking you were in some kind of trouble so bad you couldn’t even tell people your name! But clearly that’s not true!” I waved my hands at him and then at the rest of the church in an attempt to convey my incoherent anger.

                He seemed to get it though. And for once his calm demeanor dropped; his brow furrowed, and his gaze fell to the floor. “You…were worried for me?”

                I laughed harshly. He wasn’t going to get me back under his thumb with just a wrinkled face. “Stupid, right? Stupid Yoosung fell for your stupid joke and almost actually cared for you. What a waste, right?” I started to walk off. I needed some time to cool down before the tears came. It was a most annoying habit of mine; I cried when I was angry. I couldn’t stand it because it was so unmanly, but once the tears came on, there was no stopping them. I certainly wasn’t about to let Luciel see me cry.

                 Except he did. Because he didn’t let me escape. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back around. My face flew up to look up at his in shock. And he looked into my eyes, right as my tears started to fall. Now my anger was overshadowed by a feeling of being exposed. Was I ashamed? Was I afraid? I didn’t know how to feel, and I found myself searching his face for answers.

                His mouth opened. It quivered some, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out what. He stared at me with wide eyes that looked…sad? Remorseful? Yes, that was it. But under that, there was fear in those eyes. It was that fearful look of his that haunted me, that look that made me want to uncover every last secret of his so I could protect him from them.

                He finally spoke, his soft whisper unlike anything I had seen from him today. Or, well, ever. “Yoosung. Be my partner today.”

               Was this another joke? It had to be. Everything that came out of this guy’s mouth was just some sick joke. Right? Or was there something underneath all the jokes? Gah, why was I still thinking like this?! He would just make a fool of me again! I would regret getting more involved with him; I knew I would!

                 “Okay.”

[nerdgirllife]

Intertwined Dimensions Chapter 2- Kunoichi Training

The evening had started normal enough the night before back at the Mutanimals lair. Y'gythgba was sparring with Slash to start her day off. Slash was cornering her as she tried out some backflips that Karai had been teaching her, but fell down. Y: Rokka. I still can not get these backflips right. Slash: It takes practice Mona, just give it some time. Karai and Shinigami were visiting the Mutanimals before heading out to Japan. As she finished her sparring both of the girls looked at Y'gythgba. Slash: What are you two up to? Karai: Nothing. Come on space girl we have something for you. Shinigami and Karai walked with her back to her room. Y: What do you mean? Shinigmai: Leonardo spilled the beans to Karai about your Kunoichi training. Y: Spilled the beans? Karai: Yeah, he told me that he was your new sensei. Don't be mad at him, he was just excited that you were his first student and let it out in conversation with me. Shini and I are just super excited, April too. We kinda worked together to get you something. Kunoichi training is special. Shinigami: We brainstormed to see what we could get you, to let you know that you can count on us to help you. April couldn't be here because of her job, but feels the same way. Y: Thank you. I appreciate your kind thoughts. It is a bit harder than I thought. Y'gythgba had thought nothing of training as a Kunoichi, except that as a warrior it made sense to learn how to fight in many different ways. Especially in this new world where she was expected to remain hidden and out of sight. Shinigami would not hear of Y'gythgba not accepting their gift, which was a custom made black ninja outfit for her. All three Kunoichi's had worked on her outfit, even putting the Hamato family crest very discreetly on the back of the outfit. Shinigami and Karai waited for Mona to come out so they could see their handiwork. As she walked out Y'gythgba looked to Shinigami. Y: Shinigami...do you not think this is a little too much? Shinigami was smiling impishly at Karai as she thumbed up the new ninja look. Karai: Nope, it looks good on you. You should be happy I talked her out of putting make-up on you. Y'gythgba pulled on the mask nervously as it covered her face. Y: I'm only interested in, how does Raphael put it 'kicking butt'. Karai: Well yeah, I agree with the hothead, who isn't. But this way you can blend in with the shadows.  I mean might as well be stylish while you are kicking butt. Remember a kunoichi has to use the art of surprise and misdirection.  Shinigami adjusted Y'gythgba's face mask and hood. Shinigami: And I know a certain red masked turtle that will probably be super misdirected when he sees our gift. Y'gythgba blushed slightly. Shini: Now you are ready to go kick butt. Let us know what Raphael says or doesn't say. Y: I will, Rokka Rokka. Thank you.

The alien female went down the sewer, making sure to crawl on the wall toward the turtles' lair whenever there was water, still unwilling to get her feet wet in the sewer water. As she arrived she was greeted by Michaelangelo. Mikey: Oh, hey Mona! Cool outfit, very vintage ninja. Y: Thank you, Michaelangelo. She looked around to see where her love was. Mikey (with food in his mouth): Raph's in the dojo with Leo already. Mikey popped some more pizza puffs in his mouth. Y: Thank you. She nodded and moved towards the dojo. Mikey looked at her outfit and felt déjà vu but dismissed it as he proceeded to watch another Crognard episode.

As she stepped into the dojo she saw Raphael and Leonardo sparring. Y'gythgba silently observed them as she stood next to the beautiful tree that reminded her of Salamandria. All training arenas always evoked warm feelings in her no matter the location.  As long as she could remember her place had been in the training arena. Y'gythgba remembered looking up at G'throkka as a child and trying to place a blow on him with her training sword. Training had always focused her, helped her block out her emotions. How many years had it taken to even get a hit in and the look of utter surprise on his face when she had finally accomplished it. The brothers hadn't even heard her come in, but as Raph blocked an attack he noticed her and fell backwards as he lost his balance. Y: Hello. Raphael. Leonardo. Raphael always melted when she said his name. How was it that she could always do that. Leo: Hey, mona. Nice outfit. Leonardo shook his head as looked at Raph's face, it was almost comical seeing his brother go through a range of emotions; was that awe, love, admiration, and then lust followed by embarrassment for thinking of that? Raph: Mona....you're here. Wow. Just...where did you? You look...ravishing (clearing his throat) I mean...you look beautiful. Raphael blushed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Y'gythgba smiled and blushed as she watched Raphael compose himself.  Y: Thank you, Raphael. April, Shinigami and Karai thought you would enjoy this gift they gave me to help in my Kunoichi training. Raphael nodded as if he was in a dream like state. Leonardo cleared his throat. Leo: How'd I get stuck with the two lovebirds. Remind me to thank the girls later. Uhh...I feel like the ultimate 3rd wheel. That statement got Raph out of his stupor and he pushed Leo down as they play fought. Y'gythgba smiled as she watched them resume their match. The more time she spent with these honorable warrior brothers, the more it reminded her of what she had lost so long ago. Though she pushed those memories away and focused on her current training at hand.

It was time for her training session as he observed Leonardo turning off the lights in the dojo and lighting  a few candles. Leo: Alright Mona, try to attack me. Remember the lesson here is to blend in with the shadows and remain unseen. Y'gythgba pulled out the sword Raphael had picked out for her a while back, it wasn't quite her old sword. Yet then again Bishop had made it clear that she couldn't keep any of her Salamandrian tech, except for her universal translator. If that was the price she had to pay to stay on Earth with Raphael, then so be it. Leo: Not too bad Mona, you are really picking up the ninjitsu training pretty quickly, even with our different weapons. Master Splinter would be impressed. Y: Thank you. rokka rokka. Y'gythgba jumped out of the way and into the shadows. R: That's pretty good. I see the new outifit is helping you too. Raphael's eyes had not left her and Y'gythgba blushed in the darkness, grateful for her mask. As she ambushed Leonardo she got thrown by a sliding kick off her feet. Rapahel knew Leonardo would pull that move, he was ready for it and caught her before she fell down. Y: (embarrassed at her blunder) Thank you Raphael. She touched his face gently as they looked into each others eyes. Leonardo got up and cleared his throat. Raph smiled with a mischievous idea gleaming in his as held Mona. Raph: Maybe you can find your own dojo Leo. Leonardo threw his hands up in the air. Leo: (Exasperated sigh) Fine. I guess training time is over. Same time next week Mona. (quietly as he walked towards the door) Not that you two are listening  to me right now. Just as Leonardo was about to leave the dojo there was a loud boom and a bright light that knocked them all to the floor. Michaelangelo and Donatello ran into the dojo after hearing their thuds. Donnie: Is everyone okay? My computers didn't register any seismic activity. Raph looked towards Mona as they seemed to be being pulled away, just then Renet appeared from the light. Mikey:Renet! She smiled at him as she held on to the time scepter. Renet: Michaelangelo! Renet observed them all grabbing on to something. Renet: Oh, Sorry turtle warriors and oh! The Salamandrian warrior is here now too, too cold. Leo: Renet, what is going on? Renet: Oh right. (fumbling slightly with the sceptor) Time seems to want you all somewhere. I'll find you all and bring you back. I have to go get a head start, I'll find you don't worry. Just like that she was gone. Donnie: Just great! They all screamed as they were being pulled into the time portal Y: Who was that? Leonardo stabbed his sword into the floor to hold on. (straining) Donnie: That was Renet, a time apprentice. Mikey: It'll be fine guys. Renet said she would come back for us. Let's just enjoy the fact that we are going on a time travelling adventure. As they fell into the portal Raphael reached for Mona's hand R: Mona! (straining to hold onto her) But as they tried to grab on to each other they seemed to fall into a darkness away from each other. Y: Raphael!!

________________________________

Here’s chapter 2. I know I said next week but I couldn’t wait after working on it so decided to publish. Hope you all enjoy it. Just a note too, no leorai for this, here they are just good friends

[purplesurveys]

754

Does anyone know your bank pin number other than you? Who? I don’t even have one of those yet.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend who was depressed? I'm not sure. I know she's told me before about being diagnosed with depression, but I’ve forgotten if it’s mild or severe, or if she has the whole thing or is just showing symptoms of it. She only mentioned it in passing so I figured it wasn’t something she wanted to touch on further.

Would you be able to climb out your bedroom window to sneak out? Probably but I’d have to be really careful to not end up shattering my legs or any other part of my body haha, but knowing me I’d probably land badly. I live on the second floor but the house isn’t that high, so I think I could give it a shot.

What would you do if you found out the last person you called was pregnant/got someone pregnant? I’d be very confused because she’s very gay and also because she’s only been staying at home since March.

Can you taste the difference between brand name food and store brand food? I wouldn’t be able to relate since store brand’s not really a thing here. Only SM makes their own stuff but they’re purposely cheaper because they’re meant to be of lower quality to begin with. Other than that, we don’t really have a choice but buy brand name.

Would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? Which one more? Just the tampons, probably. I never need condoms so I have no reason to feel awkward buying them, and in fact I’ve volunteered to buy them for Angela whenever she feels shy haha; I definitely have no reason to be embarrassed buying pads because periods are a thing. I will likely feel most awkward getting tampons since I don’t know any one person who uses them where I live and it’ll most likely be seen as an unusual purchase since they’re quite uncommon.

If a stranger went in your room, would they be able to tell what gender you are from just looking at it? Probably. I have a poster of Nam Joo Hyuk, several Audrey Hepburn memorabilia, and a lot of pink stuff so it very much looks like a stereotypical girly room. I do think it’s kinda balanced out by the amount of WWE merch I own, but yeah otherwise my other stuff screams girly.

Are your parents gullible? When it comes to home stuff my mom is basically a witch; she can immediately tell if my dog peed somewhere, if I lost something, or if a dining chair isn’t positioned right. But when it comes to fake news on Facebook she will occasionally flock to them hahaha I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to remind her that phones DO NOT emit radiation from 12AM to 5AM and that it’s only a ploy to get people to sleep early lmfao. My dad is pretty intelligent and won’t be easily fooled about anything.

Do you still own a VCR? I know my parents owned one but I don’t know if they still brought it here when we moved 12 years ago or if they already threw it out.

About how much money have you spent on food in the past two weeks? :( Zero pesos. The only thing I’ve spent on this entire quarantine was a bottle of soju I asked my dad to buy and I paid him after.

If you were in a car accident would the last person you kissed care? Yes.

If you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go? UPTC since they have like ten shoe stores there.

How much was the last pair of shoes you bought? I haven’t had a new pair in like a year now, but the last one we bought cost arounddddd ₱4200, if I remember correctly.

What color is the computer/laptop you’re on? Did you buy it yourself? Gray. No, it was a gift from my parents.

Do you have a second home? I guess I count my childhood home my second home. My grandma and cousins remain in that house, so we visit from time to time and when we’re there I’ve noticed that I still retain the same tendencies and habits from when I still lived there.

Would you be surprised if you saw the last person you texted smoking? I’ll use the last person I chatted in this context since I haven’t texted in a hot minute, and that person would be Andrew. I’d be quite concerned since they’ve told me they’ve quit smoking, so there must be something extremely stressful going on for them to start smoking. I’d check up on them immediately.

Does the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer repulse you? I do super hate the smell of beer even though I have no other choice but to drink it sometimes; I still find the smell of cigarettes disgusting although my contempt for them has lessened over the last few years seeing as a lot of people I know are smokers so I’ve been around that smell a lot, and also because I’ve started too. I’ve never been around weed and I don’t know how it smells.

Was the last person you kissed younger or older than you? Younger by a month.

Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? Not really? What I get most frequently is people thinking I was grumpy at first, but tbh I am pretty grumpy so they aren’t far off from the truth. With me it’s usually a what you see is what you get thing whether someone’s meeting me for the first or the 78th time.

Have you ever purchased Girl Scout cookies? Nope, not a thing here. I’ve always found the variety of cookies so fascinating though and I’ve always wanted to try the Thin Mints and Samoas since they’re what I hear about the most :(

Do you like waffles? They’re okay, though I only ever eat waffles with fried chicken and never just by themselves. I prefer pancakes.

Do you watch birthing videos on a day-to-day basis? Nah man wtf? I have no reason to be doing that lmao.

Do you find piercings/tattoos attractive? I don’t find either attractive. I get curious when I see tattoo because I wonder what the story behind it is and what it means to the person who has it, that’s all. As for piercings, I don’t really like them < Pretty much. Like I don’t go looking around for tattoos on a person to find them attractive; I just like hearing the histories behind them. Same with piercings, I don’t need them to be attracted to someone.

Would you talk to someone you don’t know on the internet? Only on social media that I’m already familiar with and comfortable in, like on this Tumblr, or Twitter, sometimes Facebook. I wouldn’t go to like Quora to ask something or join forums or even post anything on Reddit.

How often do you drink Monster? Never. Energy drinks scare me lol.

Have you ever made totally pointless videos with your friends? I’ve made those for myself, but not with friends. I remember filming a house tour with my flip phone’s video camera back when I was like, 8 hahaha I was ahead of our time for sure.

Do you like to buy those Warped Tour compilations? I don’t even know those existed. I just knew of Warped Tour and that all the cool bands of the time would play there, but that’s it. I’m clueless about everything else that goes on in there.

Do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth? You mean just a restaurant? Inside, for sure. I would never agree to eating outside and am always willing to wait a few extra minutes. I hate having to contend with passersby while I eat my food as I feel that it ruins the experience as well as the time I have with the person/s I’m eating with.

Do you own a nightgown? No but I had duster dresses that I’d wear to bed as a kid, if that counts lol.

Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box? Probably not. My mom wouldn’t allow us to play with those and she’d immediately view them as trash that needs to be thrown out.

Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom? No. I usually used the sheets as a cape or robe, then I’d pretend to be a queen.

Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? My paternal grandparents do. My maternal grandfather used to regularly use a phone before he passed. My maternal grandmother refuses to learn :(

Have you ever had sex or something like it? Hahahaha ‘something like it.’ Yeah, I’ve had sex.

Have you ever read a George Orwell book? I tried reading 1984 when I was like 13 but didn’t understand it from the get-go. I haven’t continued it since but honestly I’m very open to revisiting it one of these days.

Have you ever worn fishnets? I don’t remember ever doing so. I feel like it’d be so uncomfortable; I hate wearing stockings as it is.

How many piercings and tattoos do you have? I only have my ears pierced and no tattoos < Sameeee.

Is someone in your family affected by Asperger’s? Nope.

In a hotel do you always nose through all the drawers and cupboards? Hahahahaha yeah, just out of curiosity. I’ve never seen anything interesting, but I keep trying.

Would you rather go out to eat or be eaten out? Be eaten out right now. I’ve had too much abstinence from sexual activity for my own liking lol < Ok it’s 1 in the afternoon but SAME lol

Do you always wear your seat belt? Honestly, no and it’s a shitty habit that I need to correct ASAP. I never notice that I’m not wearing them until it’s one of my parents riding with me and they scold me for driving out of the village without a seatbelt. I do put it on when I enter bigger cities with more police patrolling the area like Ortigas and Makati, or when I drive out of town, but usually it stays off.

Have you ever liked someone much older than you? No. I’ve had a crush on a teacher, but I obviously didn’t legit like him haha.

Have you ever been in a play? Just the annual school plays we do that all students are required to be a part of. I forgot to mention this in a recent survey but I was in an acting club in Grade 1 and I played Cinderella’s prince in our culminating play, heheh.

Do you have any secrets that nobody knows about? Sure.

Is there ice cream in your freezer? Yeah. My parents love ice cream so we always have an ample supply of their favorite flavors. Sometimes we’ll also have a tub of cookies and cream since it’s our (the kids’) favorite flavor.

Have you ever started to laugh but played it off as a cough successfully? For sure. I always laugh at inappropriate moments so I do fake coughs a lot.

Have you ever liked the lyrics of a band but hated the music? I suppose so. Hate is a strong word and I’d rather not use it, but while the music my girlfriend listens to wouldn’t be what I’d tune into on a regular basis, the lyrics are admittedly very well-written and intelligent and reflective, and I don’t mind it when she shares her favorite songs with me :)

Does your bathroom have a window? Yes but they’re high up on the wall.

Do you go somewhere to get your eyebrows done? No, I’m really scared of threading :( Everyone always gets out of the salon with their eyebrow area all red and tingling and it’s enough to scare me off of threading forever lmao. I’m not very conscious about how my own eyebrows look, so I just let them grow out.

When you were younger did you read the A Series Of Unfortunate Events books? I’ve only seen snippets of the movie.

Who was the last band you saw live? Paramore. I miss them already.

Do you believe prayer really works? I’m not gonna invalidate the fact that it works for a lot of people. But it’s just not my cup of tea, and I honestly don’t know how to feel whenever someone says they pray for me since I don’t believe in it anyway. Of course I thank them, but on the inside I’m always a little puzzled.

Are you a fan of the band Gym Class Heroes? Never been. I know Stereo Hearts and that was always a fun song to sing, but it’s not my favorite either.

Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? I don’t really have either, but I’d go with frosted flakes I guess?

Have you been on a date in the park? I would love to have one of these if we actually had parks. How nice would it be to take a long stroll, have a picnic, and just sit on a bench talking for hours?

Ever dated someone you were best friends with first? Yes. At first I didn’t want to risk it since we were reeeeeally close, but I don’t regret asking her out.

Are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family? Thankfully no. Although my grandpa and his sister did pass from heart attacks and I’m starting to be scared that it might develop to be a pattern for some of us. But other than that, both sides of the family are relatively healthy.

Do you have asthma? No. But Gab does and I get really worried once her breathing becomes labored at night. I keep telling her to get a new nebulizer after her old one broke, but I dunno what’s become of that request of mine.

Are tongue piercings slutty? No, and it’s not like being slutty is a bad thing lol.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? No one in real life but I do still have a crush on CM Punk who’s turning 42 this year hahah. I don’t think that crush is ever gonna go away.

Last person to take off your pants, besides you? Gab.

Do you remember those cool highlighters that smelled like popcorn? I knew about markers and ballpens, but not highlighters.

Might you enjoy hanging out in the woods for day or two? No thanks. I’d rather have somewhere to go home to or rest at by the end of the day, and if I was gonna do this I prefer to be with someone who knows a thing or two about surviving in the woods.

Have you ever written something on a bathroom stall? Nope. The worst thing I’ve done was write on one of the desks in grade school.

Least favorite alcoholic drink? Out of the ones I tried, I didn’t like whisky at all. Too bitter for me < Twins. I hated the ever living shit out of Jim Beam and Jack Daniels when I tried them.

Have you ever kissed someone named Paul or Luke? I haven’t. I have a cousin named Luke that I used to babysit and I kissed him a lot when he was a baby, if that counts lol.

How did you meet the last male you texted? I met them at the Marcos heroes’ burial protests. I have no idea how I started talking to them, but I think it was because they were wearing a Nexus shirt and I told them I like it, and we started talking from there.

Have you ever had an embarrassing email address? Yup. I wasn’t allowed to make an email address when I was young so I had to sneak around and make a fake Yahoo username so my parents would never find me. I don’t remember what it was anymore but it was for sure embarrassing so I’m just grateful my brain threw that memory out.

Do you put shampoo in your left or right hand? OMG this survey is so long. I put it on my left hand.

Do you have a bull ring through your nose? Nope, no piercings.

Do you and your dad get along? Better than my mom and I.

Can you see your purse right now? Nah, it’s in my room upstairs.

Are you wearing any perfume? What kind? I am not. I haven’t had a reason to in a while.

Are there products in your hair? Just shampoo and conditioner.

When you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy? No. Whaaaat, those exist? I just blow my nose or just live through the stuffiness.

Do you actually like sneezing? I love it, it’s such an underrated sensation lmao. It feels better when you’ve actually been needing to sneeze for a while and it finally comes through.

Have you taken a shower yet today? Nope, I usually take them at night.

Do you have one best friend who is always there for you? I have two.

Do you wear skirts a lot? Not really, I don’t like skirts because I feel exposed wearing them. I prefer shorts.

Do you wear sweatpants a lot? Nope.

How many pairs of jeans do you think you have? I can remember five pairs right now, but I have many other kinds of bottoms in my closet like culottes and leggings.

Do you like hoodies? They’re okay. I find them more comfortable if they belong to someone else, hah.

Big ones or the form fitting kind? Form-fitting if I’m buying for myself; big ones if I’m borrowing from Gabie.

Do you wear polo shirts a lot? I never wear them. My mom made me wear them often as a kid and it made me feel like a boy, so I’ve kinda had a predisposition to be wary of them as I got older since I was teased frequently enough about being a tomboy as a kid as it is.

Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? I think we probably did.

Are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets? I have one big regret and the rest of my ‘regrets’ are small and are stuff like “I regret not picking up food on my way home because I’m now hungry.” The way I’ve always thought is that I did the things I did before because I chose to do them and I was happy to do them, and I’ve honestly felt barely any regret even though things didn’t turn out the best. There’ve been mistakes but I’ve just chosen to learn from them instead of regretting them at the same time. Do you love your computer? Love it.

Do you drink coffee? Yeah. I’ve been doing it a lot this quarantine but I think it’s been giving me headaches, so I stopped for now.

Do you basically like all of your clothes? No. There are some at the bottom of the pile that I’m no longer crazy about anymore.

Do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself? My mom. She tends to know what looks best on me, and she also pays for the clothes hahaha.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Lady of the Lake

Pairing: Ginger Ale/Elizabeth x Merlin/Hamish

Warnings: None

A/N:  I’m back and this time continuing the world I started with some Ginger Ale/Merlin.  This series starts a year before the modern-day events of California and will run concurrent with that timeline by Part 6.  However, you can read this one just fine without having read California, although you should because apparently people around here liked it?  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale [please message me to be added or subtracted if you were just here for some Jack Daniels goodness!  I don’t want people being tagged in something they don’t want]

[PART 1] [PART 2]  [PART 3]

Part 1

 M'eudail

A Year Ago

Ginger Ale sat back in her chair while closing her eyes and rolling her neck, making a weak attempt to work out the kinks that were ruining her concentration.  She glanced at the date on the calendar and realized it was her seventh working day in a row, and the long hours were taking their toll.  For the last year, Ginger and her staff had been working to support the ever-growing caseload of the Statesman while lending their knowledge and labs to rebuild Kingsman after their destruction.

Few of the recruits coming through training wanted to work in tech, so the workload fell on her small staff and as many admins as she could beg, borrow, and steal.  Sometimes Ginger found herself conscripting Shirley Temple’s small research team and sometimes even Shirley herself to help track active agents and even build or repair weapons.

Champagne agreed the load was getting to be too much, but the focus on recruitment had been new agents for Kingsman and so here she was on her seventh workday and she could feel it.  Shirley keep talking about taking some time off, just the two of them.  Shirley hadn’t really left HQ in the last four years, so it was a big deal for her to making some noise about going on vacation.  Maybe she’s not wrong, thought Ginger.

Nothing on her plate was changing and Chai, her second-in-command, could handle the workload with no problem.  And Champ would gladly let them have their time off; he claimed to never play favorites, but if you just so happened to ask him, he might just so happen to tell you that Ginger and Shirley were right up there in staff he trusted implicitly.  He recruited both women and along with two agents, Whiskey and Tequila, they had made a formidable team for nearly a decade.

But, the support program with Kingsman meant they needed everyone available and until they were at a reasonable capacity, Statesman needed Ginger to stay put.  It was only fair given that Merlin, her Kingsman counterpart, was working just as much as her with virtually no staff at all.  No, no vacation for you, Miss Ginger, she chastised herself.  She had responsibilities to Statesman and to Merlin.

As she sat there lost in thought, Shirley walked up behind her and placed her hands on Ginger’s shoulders.  She could feel the stress like a rock under her fingertips and she frowned at the sensation. Her best friend was working entirely too hard.  She rubbed a little, trying to make it better.

“Ging, why are you still here? You need to take some time away from this computer, your neck and shoulders feel like a solid block of concrete.  Let’s do a girl’s night tonight, you need it.” Ginger tensed up again, but this time with guilt.

“That sounds amazing, Shirl.  But I got to finish these blueprints and get them off to Merlin so he can build the prototype.  I promised him I get them to him in the next few hours.”  Shirley rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath when Ginger stopped speaking.

“Like hell you can’t.”  She leaned over and punched a few buttons on the computer screen and before Ginger could react, Merlin’s face appeared in the video call.  She noted he looked just as worn and tired as she felt and wondered if she looked that way to him.  Without so much as a hello, Shirley started to talk.

“Merlin, will you please tell Ginger that she can have a girls’ night tonight and that the blueprints for whatever do-hickey you’re working on can wait a day or so?  Besides, you look absolutely terrible and I’m going to say that you need to go home and get some sleep, too.”

“Ever the charmer, Shirley.” Merlin’s laugh was weak, and he hung his head. “You’re right, we’re pushing ourselves too hard, it’s not the end of the world anymore.  We both need to relax for a night, m’eudail.  Go have fun with Shirley and I’ll go home and sleep.”

Shirley and Merlin continued to chat a few more minutes, but Ginger didn’t hear anything.  Instead, she blushed and lowered her eyes.  M’eudail he called her, my dear.  He has never called her that in front of someone before and she hoped that Shirley didn’t catch on.  Not that she was embarrassed for Shirley to know about her and Merlin, but Ginger just wanted something that was hers and hers alone.  

---***---

The touch of his hand on her lower back sent sparks across her skin and she drew in a small breath.  She wasn’t sure why she was reacting to him this way.  They were colleagues, two sides of the same coin.  But his eyes were kind and he had a big heart.  And then there was his smile and that brogue and . . .

“Ginger, this way.”  He nodded at her, his hazel eyes sparkling at her from behind his glasses.  She nodded and walked down the hallway to the door, his hand never leaving her back.  And for each step that his hand remained, another spark was added until it felt like her spine was shivering.  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  He didn’t seem effected at all.

But exterior appearances, especially from a trained agent, are deceiving and internally Merlin was clawing at some sort of stoicism to hide the desire he had for his American counterpart.  When they first chatted face to face some months ago in Louisville, he found himself staring at her mouth, wondering if it was as a soft as it looked and what it looked like when she sighed in pleasure.  He forced himself to pay attention to her words, but it was hard and so was he.

And now?  Here she was in his domain, walking the halls he always walked, about to sit in the chairs he sat in.  How could he keep up this facade when all he wanted to do was push her against the wall they just passed and let his hands feel her skin beneath his fingertips.  Hamish, you idiot, stop this thinking, he told himself.

Now if only he would listen.

---***---

Shirley ended the call with a cheery good-bye and spun Ginger around her chair.  They looked at each other and Ginger realized that for once it wasn’t her giving the Stare of Care, as they called it.  It was a hard look that came from a source of love.  Instead, it was her friend, who loved her as a sister, throwing the Stare at her.  A curt nod followed, and Shirley turned her head towards the only other specialist in the lab at the moment.

“Kefir, Ginger is leaving for the rest of the day and if she sneaks back in here, I want you to call me so I can come get her.”  He smiled and nodded at the two women.  “And you let Chai know when she comes on duty in an hour.  This woman is gonna get some damn sleep for once.”

The latter part of her comment came out as a mutter and at that Ginger began to laugh.  There was a point in time when it had been Ginger in that motherly place, working to support her friend through a tough time.  I guess the tables are turned now, she thought.  But she would be lying to herself if she wasn’t touched that she had people like Shirley that loved and cared for her so much.

But Shirley was right, and Ginger wasn’t going to feel guilty about relaxing a bit, even if it was only a Tuesday.  Even Merlin told her to go home.  She bounced up from her desk and moved to shut her station down for the night. It’ll all be here tomorrow when she came in – there isn’t an imposing deadline and Kingsman wasn’t going to be rebuilt overnight.

Shirley looped her arm through Ginger’s and they ambled down the hallway to the bank of elevators.  Both women live in on-site apartments, which made the commute to work all the easier. As they entered the elevator, Shirley spoke up.

“My place?”

“Whiskey’s not home?”

“Naw, he’s out somewhere in New Mexico on an assignment with Brandy.”

“How’s that going?  It’s been a while since Brandy was in the field.  I’m surprised Champ sent her along on the case.”

“She needed the break, if she spent another month training the new recruits, I’m sure she would have snapped.  You know she installed a punching bag in her office, right?”

“No!  Is it that bad?”

“Probably not, but you know Brandy, she’s overly dramatic when she’s stressed.”

The two women continued gossiping about their co-workers and friends before the elevator dropped them off on the eighth floor.  Shirley took her keys out and unlocked her apartment door, pulling Ginger in behind her, as if she didn’t trust the woman to just run back to the office. But Ginger had no plans to leave.

The homey feeling of Jack and Shirley’s apartment immediately enveloped Ginger and it seemed she dropped thirty pounds of stress just walking through the door.  Shirl pushed Ginger towards the soft leather couch while she went and dug around for some drinks and food, knowing full well that Ginger probably hadn’t eaten in hours.

In no time, Shirley had whipped up a meal worthy of girl’s night while Ginger cued up their favorite films to watch.  She hemmed and hawed between Practical Magic and The American President for a bit before choosing the former.  She felt in this moment she needed a little magical fluff in her life and, with Merlin in her thoughts, a little magical love, too.

When Shirley came into the living room, everything was ready, and the two friends snuggled deep under the blankets and just vegged out.  Through out the night, they oscillated between chatter and quiet before they both fell asleep to the sounds of Robin Tunney kicking Fairuza Balk’s ass.

In the wee hours of the morning, Jack came home and after hanging up his hat, he saw the two women lightly snoring on the couch.  He smiled at the picture before walking over.  He dropped a kiss on each head before heading to the bedroom to change and slip into bed himself.   Just another night in the Daniels homestead.