#so she lets go of the harsh horrific version she created in her head and salutes ruby to say i'll see you again someday

[rubyneo]

So question bout your latest masterpiece, is Ruby under the control of Neo since I can see Ruby's eye is pink or is that just a clone

clone. i just think what if you found companionship in the facsimile of the person you hate the most because the idea of seeing the face of the person you failed makes you sick to your stomach? what if there was no roman clone but just a ruby who is everything neo THINKS of ruby, who's cold and callous and cruel and mean and neo can beat the fuck out of her and she comes back like a loyal dog every time and fights back and hurts neo back just as bad.

"what is this about?! roman torchwick?! you want me to apologize?! well that's too bad!" ruby yells and her own voice answers "no."

like a more fucked up version of the herbalist's test. "i can't wait to watch you break," not-ruby says with a chilling smile, holding neo aloft. ruby's broken, twisted mirror spitting all the vile things neo thinks of her and ruby secretly thinks of herself. she blames her for penny dying, for not being able to save pyrrha, for ironwood's descent into madness.

[mellow-em]

Bedlam (Sam Drake)

PROLOGUE: ALL GONE 

The life she had built in only a year had disintegrated, and she was set on her stubborn mindset of finding her purpose away from Jackson. 

I DO NOT OWN ANY TLOU OR UNCHARTED CHARACTERS! ALL RIGHTS GO TO NAUGHTY DOG!

(This is a tlou x uncharted crossover. It’s set in tlou universe, but its a fic between an oc of mine, and Sam! I’m not sure how this is gonna turn out so please bear with me)

Chapter 1

_________________________________

Jackson, Wyoming

______________________

His face was illegible beyond compare, signifying my speculations were true. My recollection of the previous year had felt feverish now, as if I couldn’t graze my fingers on the memories we held between each of us.

“You’re fucking lying.”

Denial.

He lowers his head, only showing the textured black hair, that glistened with flecks of grey and white. His shameful stature made my fists clench beside me. If I didn’t know any better, I would collide them with his face; a face that held floods of imperfections already.

The pitiful man that stood before me couldn’t even relay a word out into the open. He remained mute, and shook his head at the ground.

I hadn’t realised my breath was held at my throat, creating a hoarse sensation that began choking me. I was drowning in the searing atmosphere around the both of us, as it was anything but tranquil.

Regardless of my state of pure vexation though, I took it upon myself to suck in a breath of dry air, only to release it in a huff. I mirror his actions as well, bowing my head to take in the details of my shoes.

We had found these a few months back, along with some for Ellie. Her harsh aura had been flipped as soon as I presented her with the idea that we would have matching pairs of sneakers. It was the smallest of gestures, but it was done at a time of hope.

This version of hope so happened to be revived ten times greater than before, when we finally reached our goal given to us a year prior. But now, I finally realize that it was false hope.

With my reclaimed memories flooding back, a final statement replayed in my mind: If the fate of Ellie and I had looked like this before, I would have turned my back on the journey immediately.

“After everything we’ve done,” I felt the salt-tasting droplets of tears fall from my eyes, and down my reddened cheeks as I looked up at the selfish bastard I thought I knew, “after everything Ellie’s gone through, she-” I quickly lowered my head again, suffocating from my own words.

I sat myself down on the steps of his home. It had become habitual for me to reside at his place ever since we made it back to Jackson. Sitting on his porch, with a plate of food in our laps as we talked endlessly began to give me a form of peace after our horrific adventures across the country.

Now, it felt like I was stuck in a sustained deception of what I thought was a simmering hush from reality.  

With my head in my hands I let out a soft stifle of a cry, as I sat there in complete disbelief.

Then my heartbeat fastened, and my rapid movements from my anxieties stopped as I realised something.

“Ellie doesn’t know… does she?” my voice was delicate, but it still  held every sparing trace of anger sternly.

The silence continued to speak the answers for him, giving my hunch an even bigger victory. I truly didn’t want to believe this.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” I groaned in agony as I stumble off the steps, feeling the sheer pain overwhelming me.

I clutched my chest as I felt it ring itself out, creating a boulder of tension within my entire body. I stood in the middle of his lawn, hyperventilating from the truth bearing its sharp daggers deep into my frame. The world around me was spiraling out of control, causing my balance to falter slightly.

This resulted in him rushing to my aid, but we damn well knew I didn’t want it. As soon as his hand grazed my arm, I swatted it away harshly, and twisted my body to face his worrisome one.

The developing resentment I had for him was far from dwindled, staying true within my eyes as I bored my stare into his. As I looked into his hazel ones, I could see each memory through them; the good and bad.

Floods pricked at my waterline again as I stared him down. Keeping myself contained from lashing out was becoming harder with each passing minute.

That was when one final memory was displayed through his dilated pupils.

The words replayed within my head.

“Swear to the both of us that everything you said about the fireflies is true.”

“I swear.”

Actuality set in again as I felt his hands gently caress my shoulders. The touch created fumes of heat that set themselves off completely, and my exasperation manipulated my system. I hadn’t realized I had my hands clenched in tight fists again until one finally met his face. Maybe I didn’t know any better.

He stumbled back slightly, his hand jerking its way to hold his pained cheek. He now had a wave of anger across his features, with his hardened attitude spiraling as much as mine.

Only my excuse wasn’t as far fetched as his must have been.

I tried to keep a firm stance, even with the overwhelming feeling of unconsciousness threatening the adrenaline and I. 

I still kept my fists clenched at my sides, with my knuckles fading into a white color,“You’re fucking selfish, and I hope you fucking know that.”

He mimicked my demeanor, as he stepped over to me. The closer he got, his frame began to tower over me. Though if his plan was to intimidate, he should know by now that it doesn’t work on me anymore.

“I did what I needed, to save you both.” His venomous, southern tone reverberated down to me, while his words contradicted it.

“Save us? “I laughed sarcastically, with a malicious hue coating me. I began to pace back and forth in front of him as I spoke, “Is that what were calling mass murder of the innocent these days? I suppose that goes for lying and manipulation too?”

“Kate-”

“Joel.”

His name drenched my mouth in poison.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, from what seemed to be frustration, while I wiped my tear-stained face aggressively.

He brings his hand to his face once more, stroking his unkempt beard while looking away. I held my gaze on him however, draining every last second I needed to be around him for.

An uneasy feeling began to settle within the pit of my stomach; I knew exactly what it was about.

I couldn’t bear to stay here any longer. This truth made the relationship I had with him, and life in Jackson unsalvageable. There was something pulling on my arm, however.

It was the thought of abandoning Ellie, knowing damn well I couldn’t do such a thing to her without letting her know. It would haunt me.

But, I wasn’t going to sit here while people were perishing by the second. I wasn't going to pretend life could feel normal again, regardless of my urge to live in such a fantasy. It may be something I wanted, but not something I needed. 

I knew for a fact that Ellie would feel the same if she knew the truth, but for once, I wanted the kid to live in this unrealistic version of tranquility; she needed to try an experience of what her teenage years could be like, even if it’s fucked up to extremes.

It wasn’t long before my contemplative thoughts were put to rest as Joel’s voice rang in my ear. I sigh, transferring my focus onto him. I knew what needed to be done.

“Kate, listen I-”

“Ellie,” I gulp down the saliva building up in my mouth, “I need you to take care of her.”

His face was glistening with confusion now.

“And tell Tommy and Maria I said thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Kate what the hell are you on abo-”

“I’m leaving,” I direct my eyes to the mountains beyond the borders of Jackson, crossing my arms in front of me, “I should be gone long before sunrise, so.”

I glance at Joel without moving my head, and see his face noticeably falling as the words fell from my lips. Silence tore a hole within us for a short time, only for Joel to be the first to speak.

“Do I need to remind you what is out there?”

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, Joel, I can take care of myself just fine.”

I begin to walk past him fixing my attention to gathering my shit, and getting the hell out of here. Though, Joel’s hand firmly grabs at my wrist, halting my attentiveness to the steps of the house ahead of me.

I yank my arm back to its rightful place at my side, shooting him a final look.

“Goodbye, Miller. Don’t come looking for me.”

I then walk myself into the house, deserting the former smuggler out in his front yard.

____________________

The life within the town had lessened to the hidden infestations of crickets that were scattered throughout,  and the sounds of my converse crunching the textured, dirt paths of Jackson.

There was a slight alteration to the electrical systems around here, leaving the barbed wire on one section of the fence to loose its function; along with sneaking past guards, it was the perfect getaway without getting noticed. 

Before even reaching a few yards towards the fence, I remember something.  I still had one last thing I needed to do before returning to the life away from here.

I exhale a large puff of air in frustration, and turn back towards the direction I had come from. I reach into my jacket pocket, just to be sure I had what I needed.

My hands held a letter, along with a worn out, yet surprising functional cassette. As I ventured down the roads, the written prompts from the letter replay.

Ellie,

I wanted to give you a proper goodbye, but it just wasn’t possible.

I’m sure you’ll be wondering where I have run off to, and why I won’t be in bed when you go to rudely wake me up by jumping on me.

I’m leaving Jackson. I have some personal things that have been eating at me, and I need to sort them out myself.  I told Joel to watch over you, and make sure you live as much as possible.

I’m not just talking about breathing. I need you to live your life up in Jackson as much as you can.

You deserve more happiness than anyone on this earth, Els.

And speaking of, I know you loved the song I sang to you at the bonfire the first night we were here. I found this a long time ago even before I met you and Joel. Consider it a very early birthday gift from me.

I love you kiddo.

-Kit

I felt something wet trickling down my face, only for me to abruptly swipe them off my scar-stained complexion.

I soon made it back to square one, making sure I remained quiet so both Ellie and Joel continued to sleep. If it were other situations, I wouldn’t mind too much. But I couldn’t face either of them any longer, as cowardice as it is.

I twist the doorknob to Ellie’s place, begging for it to be unlocked. Luck was my side, with the handle gently twisting with my hand.

With a few swift motions, I sneak myself in, silently closing the door with delicacy so Ellie wouldn’t wake up.

Her room was just coming together from it’s appearance; her worn furniture had been disarray across the wooden floors, along with several new articles of clothing scattered throughout the room. 

My eyes wandered to the posters plastered across the walls, that I assume were freshly hung up. It was beginning to look like the small garage was home to Ellie, making my anxieties for her adjustments here less of an issue than before. 

My attention finally directed itself to her frail stature, cuddled in a bed much larger than her. If it was possible, she could get lost in a bed like that due to her small frame.

She had a quilted blanket lazily draped over her, and a wide range of pillows supporting her head. She had been facing away from me, but I knew she was sleeping with her mouth open, as I could here the loud sounds of her breathing.

I smiled, wishing I was able to stifle a laugh without releasing her from her slumber. She had always been one to leave her mouth hanging open as she slept. The result was constant bantering between me poking fun, and her becoming defensive. 

Our relationship had developed so well over time, and it had begun to feel like she was my daughter. My other half. 

My smile immediately dropped as I dragged myself back into reality, and the reason why I was even here in the first place. I needed to do this, for myself and for her. I shook my head from its thoughts, and started for the direction of Ellie. 

I made sure to walk to her bedside table as quietly as my frantic self could, hoping I didn’t disrupt her sound sleep. With each step closer to her, I held my breath, hesitant to even do this at this point. 

As soon as I make it to her, I took in the features grazed upon her round head; her large cheeks sat with a shade of pink coating them, along with her freckles overriding her paler skin. Her eyes were closed gently, with her brows flatlined.

She was so peaceful when she slept. 

I took out the letter and cassette from my pockets, gracefully placing them both on the table without a trace of a blare. 

I held my fingertips on the letter, as if I were glued to the rustic piece of paper. I was hesitating again, so it was time for a push. 

I released my hand from it, and turned to Ellie. Before I could even think, I leaned towards her, and kissed her temple weakly, and backed away. 

As I had done before I went to the door with as little sound following me as possible, and twisted the knob of the entryway. 

The door was open now, blowing the soft, night winds onto my face as if it were patches of silk. 

As a final goodbye, I mentally threw a farewell into the open, as I gazed at my surrogate daughter one final time. Before I could shed a singular tear, I rushed out of there as fast as I could, releasing the tension-building breath I had forgot to unleash before. 

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled, with my voice becoming fragile as I spoke two final words in Jackson. 

It was time to walk away. 

As I venture back towards the fence as stealthily as I could, another set of Joel’s wise words skipped on a countless loop in my thoughts.

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

I needed to search for my own answers, whatever they were.

This was, and still is something to fight for. 

I’m sorry.

[dadoroki]

Girl, That’s Not Me

Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

Warnings: fluff, spoilers for chapter 270, spoilers for Heroes Rising, angst

Description: Meeting you during a lookout wasn’t something Shigaraki planned on doing.

I couldn’t think of a title so I just used my fav line from Drama by Drake and Roy Woods lmao.

From the edge of the steep cliff, a lone Shigaraki looked down menacingly at the winged hero beneath him. His attention on Hawks, however, would soon be cut short.

Blocks away from the horrific disaster was a beautiful woman elegantly seated on a bench, feeding the group of white doves below her. The way her soft hair and white silky dress flowed through the wind in sync was almost unreal. The whole scene was unreal.

Somehow, amid the cataclysm of fire and flames was the sight of a goddess. The burnt buildings, flashing ambulances, and audible firetrucks were the background and you were the main focal point that Shigaraki couldn’t help but admire.

Your bag of breadcrumbs was now empty and you watched as the doves flapped their wings away into the sky. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of your current surroundings. It was just that you chose to ignore it. Your eyes roamed around the area until it was set on Shigaraki who shamefully looked away. He walked into a black mist, fully disappearing and you couldn’t help but wonder who he was or why he was staring at you.

It had been long hours since Shigaraki last saw you and his mind was merely focused on the thought of you. Something about you was just so intriguing that he couldn’t help but want to relive the moment. But he had no time for distractions. His present goal was to confront Nine.

Shigaraki was teleported to an open field, the dark black mist that once surrounded him now reducing into air. He approached the weakened man, latching all five fingers onto his face and watching him disappear into dust. Shigaraki backed away, ready to get sent back to his next location until he saw someone. Even though he could only see the back of the figure, he knew your body too well to know it was you.

You sat on the meadow with your legs bent to the side, a finger raised to hold a white dove as many more surround you. He took careful steps towards you, stopping a few meters away. The distance didn’t secure his cover, as you were already aware of his company. You let the dove fly away, watching it leave with the rest of the pack. “So, we meet again.”

“Are you following me?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.”

You pushed yourself up and faced him, slowly walking a few steps closer. You took him in, as he did the same with you. Shigaraki thought he was hallucinating. The way your soft eyes glimmered at him, the way your hair and long exquisite dress danced through the wind, and the way the pink flower pedal’s streamed behind you was surreal. It was like a fantasy he was living in. A cliché romantic scene from a movie almost.

The smile on your face made Shigaraki’s heart tug and you raised a hand at him. He wasn’t exactly sure what you were trying to imply but he slowly made his way to you, placing four fingers on yours. You glanced down at his unsteady hand then back to him. “You can trust me.” After a moment of hesitation, he rested his last finger onto yours and to his surprise, your body was not affected in any way. You gave him a chance and he let you in.

Shigaraki was never alone after that. Wherever he went, he’d always be accompanied by you. You never left his side. It would get in the way of his work, as you’d try to prevent him from causing any severe harm or damage to others. He would still carry on with his daily routines, only minimalizing a bit of his full potential.

After forming the Paranormal Liberation Front, Doctor Ujiko promised Shigaraki that he could grow even stronger through a complex surgery. You were told that the process would last up to four months and would be indescribably painful. But the end results could potentially make Shigaraki even stronger than All For One. This was exactly what he wanted but for you, you disagreed with the idea completely. It could cause him immense pain and you couldn’t go through with that. But he could and he did. There was no talking him out of it and you were forced to give up.

Every single day, from morning to night, you’d watch over Shigaraki, locked in his glass container and hooked to a series of tubes and wires. You rested your palm on the cold glass from the opposite side of Shigaraki, wishing to take all his pain away. His eyes and body rested softly within the waters. You’ve never seen him look so at peace and it made you slightly happy. The scene made you trace away from the chaos outside of the location. Away from the disruption between Present Mic, Kyudai, and X-less a few meters behind you.

Inside Shigaraki’s mind, he was surrounded by several large hands and pieces of buildings. The sound of a little girl’s voice caught his attention and he later realized it was his sister. She told him that she was on his side and apologized for the past. More of his memories started to resurface, a larger version of his mother worried about his eyes and a larger version of his father yelling furiously at him.

Out of nowhere, a shadowy version of All For One appeared before him, telling him to come with him. As he goes to walk, his family reappears, stopping him and grabbing him in the same areas that he had placed their hands on originally. He ignored their pleads, letting them disappear into nothing. Another interruption stopped him from inching closer to All For One but this time, it was in the hands of someone he truly cared for.

He came to a cease, feeling your arms wrapped around his torso and your head resting on his bare back. You pulled yourself closer to him and tightly squeezed your eyes shut. “Please don’t go.”

“But I have to.”

Your grip slowly loosened, desperately trying to find a way to gain him back. “This isn’t you, Tomura.”

“But it is.”

Another failed attempt and his tone started to grow less without care and more monotonous. “You thought about what life would’ve been like with a loving family. If you left everything behind and we lived happily together. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, but you’re not real.”

You slowly released him, backing away from his body. He refused to look at you as your body slowly started to crumble. “You’re just a pure imagination created in my mind.”

You wanted to scream at him. To tell him he was wrong. But he was right and telling you the truth. Would you have guessed that the most villainous person could be the most loneliest? You were just there because he needed to feel comfort and to feel loved. Everything he couldn’t get growing up. It started to make sense to you. You knew nothing of your past. Everyone had ignored you, not because they hated you, but because they couldn’t see you. You weren’t real.

From the beginning, he convinced himself that you were alive, wanting to believe that it couldn’t just be a coincidence. But as time went on, he gradually had to accept the harsh reality. All good things come to an end.

“Goodbye, (Y/n).”

Tears fall from your face as you slip into oblivion. Before disappearing, your crumbling face watched the man who you thought loved you walk over to the darkness, embracing the path of villainy.

[avengers-nextgen]

The Rise Of The Lost XV

They fell one by one like dominos. Slowly they were dragged through the streets to the center of town where the enemy had regrouped. The tech industries could wait, for now they would have a fun spectacle: it was time to murder America’s lovely little heroes.

Tony walked with his chin raised indignantly despite Piper who lay unconscious in his arms. Her reactor core flickered off and on much to Steve’s worry. He was one of the few in better shape. His eyes scanned the metal colored soldiers for any familiar face of his friends or family. He spotted James sitting beside Vision with a black eye, split lip, and bruised knuckles.

There was Wanda trying to stop the bleeding of a violent cut to Scout’s arm. Orion lay on his back eyes staring at the sky taking labored breaths. Nathaniel and Clint leaned into one another looking exhausted and beaten. Natasha was attempting to stop the bleeding from Thalia’s stab wound.

Bianca looked to be in pain but was relatively okay, as was Enzo, and Fox, and Bucky, and Thor.

Alex was limping about trying to support Siyanda who suffered from a broken leg.

“I can help!” Enzo insisted making his was to Thalia’s side. “I learned how to do this on accident when I was little. It was one of the only spells I was allowed to do.”

Natasha stepped aside and Enzo placed his pale hands over the wound. The flesh knit itself carefully back together and the bleeding slowly stopped but the enemy caught on.

The end of a gun bashed painfully into the back of Enzo’s head and the boy curled up onto his side with a cry of pain.

“Line them up!” Came a gruff order. Swarms of soldiers stepped forward to carelessly jerk everyone about and into position. “Make it quick! We have work to finish.”

Alex did her best to resist but she was running out of stamina as were James and Scout. It was Nathaniel who told them to spare the energy and they reluctantly obeyed.

Once lined up, the army gathered behind them in an organized line.

Two gun wielding metal armored soldiers paced back and forth expectantly.

“Who first?” One of them asked.

“The blonde one.”

Thalia was booted over onto her side. The gun was poised to fire when a violent blast sent the soldier flying, and green flames dissolved from the air revealing a very familiar figure.

“Oops. Did I ruin the party?” Sage smirked evilly and before anyone had a chance to react she disappeared again.

“YES!” Enzo cheered ecstatically.

Sage appeared behind the other executioner and with a quick twist snapped their neck. By now the enemy snapped from their daze and gun fire erupted in volleys.

Enzo broke free from his captor where he planted a swift and harsh kick to their balls. “Fucker.”

“Language!” Alex yelled smugly drawing the attention of another soldier only to bash them in the face with her shield. “Gets them every time.”

Tony struggled back to his feet looking for a way to get Piper to safety. The girl he’d been told was his enemy, Sage, appeared before him, and he was ready to attack in an instant. “Be quick.”

Before Tony could say anything Sage multiplied into twelve different versions of herself creating a protected zone for Tony to take off.

Slowly and unnoticeably Sage began to corral the enemy backwards. Alex launched Bianca off of her shield and the girl slammed hard into a nearby threat.

“Shield!” Alex and Steve both called at the same time. James and Natasha responded. James snatched Alex’s shield out of the air and deflected a sword just as Natasha caught Steve’s and played a killer game of frisbee.

“Give them the old razzle dazzle!” Clint beamed. Nathaniel laughed wildly and the two archers mirrored each others’ movements. If Clint rolled right and fired Nathaniel rolled left. They were deadly.

— — —

But as time passed stamina continued to ware. The heroes’ attacks slowed opening them up for retaliation that could very well be deadly. The fight needed to end quickly should the enemy be stopped.

At last, with the help of Scout, the last metal tin can of a fighter crossed the imaginary line.

Sage reacted in seconds. Two barriers exploded upwards from the ground. One kept all of the enemy soldiers at bay, and the other held the heroes back.

“What the-?” Fox hesitantly punched at the barrier. It held firm.

The enemy opened a massive round of bullet fire that took nearly all of Sage’s strength to keep the shield up.

“What’re you doing?” Enzo yelled.

“Saving you.” Sage grunted. Sweat started to form on her brow and her arms shook with exertion.

“We can take them!” Enzo insisted.

“Look around, kid! You’ve got no chance. You’ve expended your resources!”

Enzo obeyed his sister’s words. He saw that she was right. Everyone was either injured or exhausted. “Then what do we do?”

Sage closed her eyes trying to concentrate lest the barriers fail and all hope be lost. Enzo began to realize what her plan was. A sense of dread settled over him.

The barrier would slowly fail as Sage pressed the attack, it would crumble and she would be exposed, but it was the only shot anyone had anymore.

Sage had been told ages ago that there was a place she was never supposed to go with her powers. It was too dangerous to others as well as herself. If there was a time to break that rule- it was now.

Enzo covered his eyes as purple exploded forwards in a large fiery blast. Squinting against the light Enzo saw something horrific and amazing. The blast was similar to a nuclear explosion. Sporadic gunfire erupted as the green barrier began to fail.

“Sage!” Enzo yelled watching a bullet slam into her thigh. She didn’t flinch, didn’t care, and didn’t bother looking back at him.

The magic within the Vibranium suits began to smolder before exploding. Cries of pain from the enemy filled the air as they were seared alive.

A second shot rang out and slammed violently into Sage’s shoulder. Enzo cried out at the sight of blood and slammed his shoulder into the protective barrier. Sage’s arm went limp at her side and she staggered trying to maintain her balance.

“What’s happening?” Scout breathed. Sage’s form flickered slightly as lines began to appear across her skin.

“Dad said that someone’s magic is tethered to their life span. If she’s using everything she’s got she’s draining her life force!” Enzo panicked. His chest began to heave and he was near hyperventilating.

“You mean she’s killing herself?” Thalia frowned. Enzo nodded vigorously and Thalia-though tired- began to hack at the barrier with her swords. They bounced harmlessly off.

A third shot to the calf sent Sage down onto a knee. This time Enzo saw her cry out in pain and he could hardly keep his own tears at bay.

Alex joined Thalia’s attack against the force field and smashed her shield frantically into its surface. “Come on, come on, break!”

Nathaniel joined the effort pummeling the force field with his fists before Orion drew his blade and coordinated his attacks with Thalia.

Slowly the enemy began to disappear-as if every single one of their atoms had dissolved.

Things seemed hopeful until the barrier surrounding the enemy fell apart. Enzo saw tears on his sister’s face, saw her shudder in pain, could feel the conflict at hand, and knew she was more human than anyone had given her credit for.

She could still run, but running left Enzo to die and she was not going to be like her father and leave him. There were people who didn’t deserve her protection and part of her wanted them to feel the pain of the enemy’s weapons, but there were those who did not deserve to die. She would not be like Thor and play God. Sage would not dictate who got to live, not in this moment, not when everyone was fighting the same enemy.

But there was hate: hate that she was defending the man who killed her mother, hate that she was defending James who had turned against her, hate that she was defending Fox who nearly killed Bianca, and it ached deeper than any grief.

But there was love too: it was love that made her protect Thalia who had only ever wanted to know her cousin, love that made her protect Enzo who had no choice in who his father was, love that made her protect Alex who was a naive girl that only wanted the best for everyone, and love that made her protect Bianca who was the first friend Sage ever had.

A fourth gunshot struck Sage in the stomach. The howl that escaped young Enzo’s chest was heartbreaking. Scout tried to keep him at bay, tried to help with the emotional pain, but there was little he could do. Scout could only absorb so much of it and there was too much for him to bare.

Thalia paused in her attack to watch her cousin drop to all fours clutching desperately at the brutal stomach wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “Stay down. Please, stay down.”

Sage didn’t hear her cousin’s soft pleas from so far away. She clawed her way back to her knees and prepared to stand again.

The enemy was dwindling rapidly, and even in her dying state Sage managed to maintain enough strength to keep up her attack. Only a dozen still lingered.

Just as she reached her feet once more the forth bullet turned into a fifth and then a sixth. Sage didn’t get up again.

The barrier fell and though Enzo wanted to dash free Scout kept hold of him. Enzo was only a teenager and he’d expended his powers already. Scout wouldn’t let him suffer as his sister had if he had anything to say about it.

Lightning tore through the sky in violent forks to eliminate the stragglers leaving behind only husks of armor.

“Dad.” Scout called, “get back to HQ. Send a medical jet! Hurry!”

Vision nodded in acknowledgment before launching off at an incredible speed. At last, Enzo grew too tired to fight anymore and simply dropped to his knees. Scout didn’t let go knowing the boy needed something to ground him lest his powers go off the rails.

— — —

“Dad help,” Thalia pleaded looking up at her father. She didn’t know what to do. There was too much blood, her cousin’s skin looked nearly translucent, and the veins beneath seemed black and corroded, “there has to be something you can do. She’s dying!”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Thor swallowed hard.

“What?” Thalia looked at him in disbelief and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of all those years ago,” Thor shook his head in dismay,” she’s too powerful.“

“Father please.” Thalia cried. She couldn’t believe it. It felt like her heart was being torn in two. “You told me family was more important than anything else! How is this different?”

“She is dangerous!” Thor’s voice raised in power and authority causing clouds above to swirl in anticipation.

“You son of a bitch.” The Thunder god had no time to react before a patriotic shield cracked against this jaw sending him stumbling backwards. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Alex.” James warned.

“Shut up.” James clamped his mouth shut in surprise at his sister’s tone. “You may be the god of thunder, but you’re a horrible father and uncle!”

“How dare you-“

“I’m not finished!” Alex stepped up so she was nose to nose with him. “Sage just saved your daughter’s life. Not only that, but it’s not Sage’s or Enzo’s fault that their father is Loki! And it’s not Thalia’s fault that her father is you! None of us have a choice in who our parents are. We don’t have a choice in what our powers are or how strong we are. You don’t get to dictate who you think is dangerous or not, or who is worthy enough to live. You don’t get to play God!”

“I am a god!” Thor bellowed.

“Anyone can be a god, but it takes a real man to be a father! Not a boy who can play with lightning!” Alex matched his volume, and the two glared angrily at one another until Steve picked Alex up and slung her over his shoulder. “Dad-“

“I know kiddo,” Steve sighed, “I know. Now’s not the time. People are hurt. It’s okay, I know you want to help.”

As Steve made sure Alex didn’t cause anymore trouble, Thalia withered under her father’s gaze. She could barely look at him, and made a point of boarding the medical jet when it arrived despite his protests. Thalia wasn’t going to abandon her cousin in the face of death even if it meant her father was angry. She would deal with the consequences later.

[jimlingss]

Brass & Strings [8]

Episode 7 - Episode 8 - Episode 8.5 OR Episode 9 Words: 4.8k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed. 

Cr.

Miss. Song is a person who’s had many career changes, from being a ballerina to a musician and now into a teacher. She’s the type of professor that college boys thirst after and girls admire. The lady exudes a sexy pureness, a mix between cute and sensual, that even you cannot rival with. Each movement she makes is with grace and her smile is always gentle, making it hard for others to decline her. “Jennie, Rose and Jihoon. Could I speak to you for a moment?”

The concertmistress immediately carries her belongings to the front podium, joined with the flutist and viola player. “Is there something wrong, miss?”

She smiles. “Well, I was wondering if you three were interested in attending a business party in the next two weeks and play as a quartet. It’s a charity event, created by a close friend of mine and they’re looking for some performers for the evening. Of course, you’ll be compensated for it.”

The three of them exchange a variety of looks from surprise to joy. “W-we’d love to!” Rose almost bounces up and her grin spreads into her cheeks.

You scoff, picking up the pace with shoving your belongings into your bag. “Are you okay?” Namjoon tips his head to the side, observing your scowl. He’s standing by your desk, waiting for you to finish. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m dandy.”

It was always the same.

String and woodwind players receive opportunities most frequently. They’re fought for and provided numerous scholarships, recognized in the industry. It does cause the section to become more competitive but it was still better than the treatment brass and percussionists receive. The entire backbone of the orchestra is often disregarded.

The pretty instruments are the flutes, the violins, the piano. Those are the things children want to play and adults want to listen to. No one cares about french horns or the timpani, god forbid the tuba.

“Oh, you too, Y/N!”

“What?”

Miss. Song waves you over and you’re paralyzed, mid step out of the door. “I did say a quartet after all.”

Namjoon smiles and nudges you forward. You go stumbling towards the group.

Your expectations have shattered right in front of your eyes.

“You did hear, right? Would you be interested in participating in this event? I understand if there are other responsibilities you have to meet. I won’t hold it against you if you refuse.”

“I-”

“But a tuba?!” Rose whips her head back to the professor. “That-...that’s not even supposed to be in a quartet!”

Jennie frowns and shakes her head. “Rose.”

Miss. Song simply giggles behind her hand and her cheeks naturally flush. “In a proper string quartet, there isn’t supposed to be a flutist either.” The flute player promptly quiets down and focuses on the floor in embarrassment. The music professor looks over to you. “I’d love it if you could join us. These three need a bass instrument. I know violin, viola, flute and tuba is a very unconventional combination but I’d think it would be very interesting, wouldn’t it?”

Jihoon stares at you, the male waiting for an answer with the teacher. Rose doesn’t make eye contact and Jennie tries to smile in politeness. You turn your head slightly to the only other person in the room, Namjoon, who is waiting by the door.

The harpist is staring at his phone, scratching his head innocently. When he realizes you’re gazing at him, his irises flicker upwards and the corners of his lips upturn, dimples creasing into each side of his cheek. He stiffly waves his hand and then blinks, motioning to the people behind you who are waiting.

You inhale a huge breath, trying to fight down the excitement. “Yes.”

“Good.” Miss. Song scrunches her shoulders in a chipper manner. “Try to get along ladies. Jihoon, you too. The performance will be in two weeks.”

//

“It’s happening!” Your arms are in the air and you scream towards the sky, up to the azure shade that is not covered with one single wispy cloud. “I’m so fucking happy!”

Namjoon would usually tell you to quiet down, that you’re drawing too much attention but this time, he allows for a moment of glory, not caring about how you’re leaning close to him.

“Congratulations.”

“I thought this day would never come...for tuba to see the light of day…” It’s a tad bit dramatic but it’s been a long time since you’ve felt this adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You knew beauty was fleeting. After a few years, the suitors and dates you have will disappear, no longer chasing after you but someone younger with more energy. The money and shopping is only temporary satisfaction, an escape from your real problems. It was music that would last, your instrument that would stick by you, the passion that you would always have.

But for countless nights, you asked yourself if anyone would even want you. If anyone would want your instrument. Would they even desire to hear you play a note?

“I’m so happy, I could kiss you, Namjoon!”

He scrunches up his nose, looking away from your cheesy grin. “Good luck.” He feels genuinely thrilled. There was always something about the way you loved music, talked about it and how your eyes glittered that made his own chest squeeze. You weren’t just a conceited part-time sugar baby with shopaholic tendencies. There’s so much more.

Namjoon feels privileged to see this side of you.

“I wish I could be with you.” He confesses and then backtracks when the implication of his words hits him. “I mean...play with you, like in the quartet.”

“Maybe someday.” You wistfully breathe out. “A duet?”

The boy pushes up his glasses and nods, hoping for such a day to arrive.

//

Unfortunately, things don’t go as smoothly as you imagined them to be.

“I’m not playing with her. No. I can’t.”

“Pft. Then I’m not playing with you either.”

Jennie sighs in exasperation, standing between you and Rose. “Come on, guys! We have to work together! Let’s just put aside the past and build the path towards the future-”

“How could you even say that?!” Rose sobs out, holding her flute away from you. “She’s the one who scratched me all up, remember? I was assaulted!”

You roll your eyes, preparing to put your brass instrument back in your case. “You’re the one who started that fight. Who are you to talk about assault?! Don’t you dare make up lies!”

“You’re the-”

“I fucking-”

Jihoon who’s holding the neck of his viola slowly steps away, considering the prospects of bolting out the door and never returning. Jennie looks back and forth throughout the argument and she tries her best to resolve the issue but it escalates and she screams- “STOP IT!”

“This is a professional setting! We are working towards becoming professionals and there is an event coming up really soon. We haven’t even practiced for a full minute yet. Please, stop being childish. If you two won’t work together then you both should leave and stop disrupting!”

There’s a full minute of silence.

Jennie exhales, having used all her courage to interfere.

After an exchange of looks…

“I’m not leaving.” “Neither am I.”

The concertmistress props her violin to her shoulder and chin, holding up her bow. “Good.”

Practice doesn’t go by too horrifically. Ten pieces are chosen, some that are relatively easy and others that you’ve played together in the orchestra before, merely rearranged for four instruments. The flute and violin intermingle with the main melody while the viola dances in the background, adding a deeper layer. But your music professor was right. Without the tuba, it wouldn’t be balanced. There would be no one there as the backbone, to support the rhythm and let the vibrations boom across the walls and against the floor, to truly let the music sing.

“That was great.” Jennie compliments and you would have to notably agree. It’s an unusual combination but one that works. “But I think we could fix up this part. Y/N, you should play that in a higher octave, maybe with an accent?”

“I disagree.” The others look at you with raised eyebrows, a baffled expression for immediately rejecting the idea. “I think we should keep it and just try it in molto vivace.”

“O-okay.”

Rose pipes up, “I think that’s a bad idea. You should just listen to-”

“Let’s just give it a try.” Jennie interjects before another argument can occur. “Very lively and faster….”

Everyone picks up their instruments, correcting their posture. Rose lifts the flute to her lips and shoots you a glare while you ignore her, focused on the black and white score. Jihoon and Jennie place theirs on the juncture of their shoulder and chin, lifting up the bow.

Claude Debussy’s String Quartet in G Minor rearranged version begins again.

The violin strings are pulled in harsh but powerful motions, tuba booming next to the fluttering flute that spirals notes through the air. It grows intense with each rise of crescendo, each sharp breath inhaled to support the melody, fingers dancing across keys and fingerboards until-

Snap.

Everyone freezes.

The music dies out, the note that was supposed to be played isn’t and you crane your neck around. Jihoon’s eyes double, Rose gasps and Jennie has become pale. “Your violin!”

“This was all your fault!” Rose screams at you, whipping her head back to Jennie. “Are you okay?! Is your hand hurt?!”

“I-I’m fine.”

“How is this my fault?” You put down your tuba, shuffling your music sheets. “It’s just your E string that snapped. Doesn’t it happen all the time? If your hand isn’t hurt then there’s nothing wrong.”

The flutist screeches horrifically in your ear, making you wince. “How could you be so heartless?!”

It’s exhausting. As much as you wanted to showcase your playing, grab onto the opportunity, the people that you’re working with makes you feel like you’ve never left high school.

You glance back at the violinist that you despise and she is still staring at her precious instrument. Jihoon gulps and Rose is confused on what to do. You exhale a long breath, concluding that your fellow classmates are idiots and useless.

Why do you have to do everything around here? Goddamn.

“Fine.” You can already imagine what Kim Namjoon would say and do in a situation like this.

“What are you doing?” Jennie sniffs as you tug her upwards.

“We can’t practice if your string’s broken. I know a place where we can get it fixed...for free.”

//

Jennie has done nothing wrong to you. It’s fairly irrational of you to hate her so much but there’s something in the way she presents herself towards the world, like a perfect angel who has no flaws. She is never angry, never displays sadness or heartache, an ounce of jealousy or envy. The violinist is a robot who only smiles. She’s practically the Mary Sue in the flesh.

It rubs you the wrong way. She’s kind, generous but not genuine.

“Thank you for helping me, Y/N. I really appreciate it.” She carries her case in both hands, humming with the corners of her mouth lifted. You don’t respond, pushing your Gucci sunglasses closer to the bridge of your nose. “I’ve been playing since I was ten years old, which is a decade now. Any string snapping has only happened a few times, so, I was really startled.”

You brush her off coldly, “cool.”

“How long have you been playing for?”

“Long.”

“Oh.” Jennie nods her head and her modest skirt swishes with every stride. “You’re very good, Y/N. I admire your abilities and technique. Was there any reasons as to why you chose tuba?”

“No.”

“I see. I think tuba’s a really nice instrument, a pleasant brass sound. It looks heavy though. Is it?”

“Yes.”

There’s a minute of quietness, where the bustle of the streets and cars driving past screech louder than the concertmistress’ mumbles. You thank Heaven and Earth that she’s stopped trying to make conversations and her yapping mouth has shut tight. Every second of being in her presence is torture in itself. But then-

“If it’s not too rude, Y/N...Can I ask where are we going?”

You don’t answer her, turning the sharp corner before you’re abruptly pulling open the glass door. “Get in.”

She ducks her head. “Thank you.”

With the built up rage, you unleash it on the desk bell, spamming down the muscle in your finger as rapidly as physically possible. The obnoxiously silvery sound hurts your ears but you ignore the pain. “Will you shut up already?!”

Yoongi growls out at you, swiping at the counter and stealing the bell away. “I’m standing right here! God, Y/N! What is wrong with you?!”

“If you were faster at customer service then maybe I wouldn’t have to press the bell.”

“Are you fucking serious? What do you even want from me?! I’m not here to give you any cash and you’re a disturbance to my workplace.” His frown doesn’t deter you and when he leans in close, you don’t flinch away. “The boss will fire me because of you.”

You scoff, crossing your arms with indignation. “I’m here today as a customer, dumbass.”

“What?”

The pretty girl in the frilly skirt that pools past her knees and coral smock top is revealed when you step aside. Her brunette hair, tucked behind her hair, shines in the light and she politely smiles. “Hello.”

“Uh….” Your cousin blinks for a mere moment before he clears his voice, lowering it from the yelling pitch to a deep timbre. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

Jennie sets the case in front of him. “My string accidentally snapped. I was wondering if you could repair it for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” He takes it and opens it up. “I’ll see what I can do. It probably won’t take long.” As she begins to pull out her wallet, Yoongi stops her. “It’s on the house.”

The violinist blinks twice. “Are you sure?”

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, “should take less than ten minutes... I don’t see why not.”

“T-thank you.”

The two of them stare at each other. You only realize that no one’s moving after browsing the valve oil on the shelf for a minute. “Are you going to get going or what, Yoongi?!”

//

The weeks of practicing pass by quickly. In between your classes and the fun outings, you’re honing your skills and rehearsing the parts. The four of you work decently together if Rose isn’t shooting you glares and Jennie doesn’t piss you off. Your professor also passes by a few times, expressing her excitement and enthusiasm for the upcoming event.

“What are you doing here?”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and he melts into a sheepish smile. “Oh, I was just working on some stuff..composition homework...your science project...are you done?”

“Yeah..” You slowly hitch your thumb to the door. “I was about to head back.”

The harpist throws his backpack around his shoulders and he nods. “We should go together then.”

In the chilly night, the taller man walks in time with you, matching footsteps. You tilt your head up to him, staring at his profile. “Hey, Namjoon.”

“Yes?”

“It’s really late out. Didn’t your classes end hours ago?”

He coughs. “Yes.”

You hum, lolling your head to one side as your brain begins to crank. “If you were doing homework, then why did you go into the practice room? And what were you doing standing out in the hall?”

The college boy scratches the back of his neck and his cheeks bloom in a hue of rose but you suspect it’s from the frigid air nipping at his skin. “T-the library is too crowded. I thought it would be better for me to concentrate somewhere quieter. I was about to leave too when you left...so yeah.”

“Oh.”

“How’s practice? Is it going well?” He asks you in curiosity, “are you ready to perform?”

“It’s going okay. I think we’re ready. It’s not as horribly as I thought it would be.” At the same time as he answers ‘that’s good’, a strong gust of wind smacks your figure. Your grip accidentally loosens and the binder of sheet music drops to the concrete. “Dammit.”

You reach down to grab it and Namjoon does too, making you both bonk heads. He lets out an ‘ow’ and you hiss at him, capturing the object again. The only reason you don’t yell at him to watch where he’s going is because he’s Kim Namjoon. If it were anyone else, you’d lash out.

“Here.” He clutches onto your other hand that’s curled around the handle of your tuba music case. “Let me carry it for you.”

“It’s fine! I can carry it myself-”

The words die in your throat when you realize how serious he is, without the usual smile or bright eyes. He stares at you in complete earnestness - expressionless - and you’re baffled he could make such a transformation. You blink twice to make sure you’re looking at the same clumsy and innocent college boy. “Let me help you. Rely on me.”

There’s a bit of silence before you give in. “It’s really heavy.”

The corner of his lip tugs into a smirk. “I can handle it.” He takes the case and suddenly the immense weight is lifted away. The soreness in your shoulder is alleviated, the aches in your arm is soothed. Namjoon smiles and he fakes a gasp, lighting up the mood again. “Woah! It is really heavy. Twenty pounds, right?”

You scoff, feeling thankful that he’s back to the person you know - silly and awkward, pure and naive. “You want me to take it again?” Your arms curl around your binder.

“No. It’s fine.”

“Pft. At this rate, people will think I’m making you carry my things around like a slave.”

The harpist shrugs and he lightly but purposely bumps into you. “They can think whatever they want. I don’t care.”

For a second, your heart flutters.

And you put a hand to your chest, shocked that your soul’s able to be moved. For one, you thought your heart had been turned into concrete. You’re also amazed that it’s Namjoon. It’s not a wealthy, lonely woman who would whisk you away on rendezvous, or the hundreds of attractive people on your contact list that you know who would drop to their knees for you.

Nope. Out of everyone, it’s Kim Namjoon, resident nerd and harp player.

“You’re such a sweet and nice boy, Nams.” You throw your arm over his shoulder, leaning on the man and standing on the tips of your toes to accommodate for the height difference. Your finger casually pinches his cheek. “I could eat you right up! Your future girlfriend is going to be so lucky!”

He giggles and shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“I’m so clumsy, if I don’t break their belongings, I’d probably accidentally break him or her.”

“Nah.” You ruffle his head of messy locks. “They’ll look past it and see your kindness. Either they’ll be lucky or they’ll use you. But fear not! I’m here. L/N Y/N will be here to protect you from any witches, foxes or douchebags!”

Namjoon grins. “Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”

“Yes.”

The university grounds are connected to a popular hangout avenue, rather convenient for college students to find study spaces and places to eat. At this time of night, however, all of the stores are closing and there are only a few lingering people around.

You stifle a yawn behind your hand and he notices. “If you want, you can stay at my place tonight. Uh- but o-only if you want of course. I won’t force you!”

“I know you won’t.” You laugh into the cold air. “But won’t your back hurt? That couch of yours isn’t comfortable.”

“I’ll be okay.”

You smirk at him, eyes going half-lidded. “We could share the bed, you know. Get a little close and...personal? What do you say, Nams? Up to play some games with me?”

Namjoon nearly combusts right then and there at your suggestive tone. His entire face becomes a tomato shade and he’s flustered, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Uhh….”

“I’m joking! Calm down.” A huge smile appears as you smack him, stopping in your steps at the bus stop. “I’ll just catch the bus. It’s coming in a minute anyways and it’ll take me right back.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Are you my father?” You put your hands on your hips, grabbing your case back from him. “You really think I’ll be kidnapped or something? If I punch them once, they’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Namjoon smiles and he begins to back away. “Call me if something happens?”

You wave at him, chest feeling warm. “Alright.”

//

There’s something not right.

Jimin knows it. It’s under his nose as well, like an itch he can’t scratch. He doesn’t know what it is but he knows there’s something there. These days, he feels like a father, waiting for his teenage son at home with crossed arms, knowing the other man is up to no good.

“What time is it, young man?” Jimin pouts, feet apart with his shoulders. “Where have you been going these days? You don’t even call home or text me?”

Namjoon downcasts his head, quickly slipping off his shoes. Jimin keeps going on his rampage, “you just bailed out on our movie night! I got popcorn too! Now guess who had to eat three bags of popped popcorn?! Me! I feel like butter is leaking out of my pores!”

“Sorry-”

The man’s eyes widen and he drops his arms. “Did you have a date? No..that can’t be it. Are you sick?”

“W-Why?”

Jimin points right at him. “Your face is really red.”

“Uh…” Namjoon begins retreating down the hall. “Nothing happened!”

The door slams a second later.

Jimin groans, truly feeling like a parent. Except, the last time he checked, he didn’t birth out such a big son.

//

The black dress hugs against your curves, modest and business professional, excluding the slit on the side that adds a bit more character. Rose and Jennie stand beside you, Jihoon next to the concertmistress as all of you look out. It’s a charity event with middle aged individuals conversing, hands holding onto champagne glasses. The children giggle, playing hide and seek as a group behind the room’s magnificent white columns.

Surprisingly enough, of all the affluent people around, you don’t recognize any of them. If you did, you’d have to ignore them anyways. No one of status ever wants to be known for having a younger entourage on the side as a stress reliever.

The evening has settled in with all the guests present. “Are you ready?”

You glance over at Jennie who’s holding her violin, wearing her own white gown. Jihoon in a bulky suit, borrowed from his father and Rose is in a teacup dress that’s a darker shade of grey.

“Ready.”

All four of you take your seats, turning the page to the first score of the night. The violin and viola are propped on their shoulders, flute held up high into the air and you put your lips against your brass instrument, kissing the music notes as it leaves the bell. A joyous emotion is conveyed through the melody, the whistle of the violin, the sonorous sound of the viola, the graceful humming of the silver flute and the hearty buzz of your own brass tuba bleeds together.

Some people whirl around with smiles, listening while sipping on their drinks. Other couples begin to dance and children marvel at the golden and silver keys, joining in steps with their parents. The strings, resounding woodwind and the low timbre of your own instrument intertwine together for harmonious melodies to bouncing jingles.

It goes even better than practice. You become focused on the quartet, your partners and the audience is forgotten in the background. The little trance you’re in is interrupted by the standing ovation and Miss. Song’s humongous grin. But as you look up amongst the crowd, you swear you find a broad back and dark strands of hair poking up...a dimple marring their cheeks.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. What?” You peel your irises away to Rose and she coughs awkwardly.

“I was just saying how..you’re not so bad, Y/N. A lot more bearable when you aren’t trying to be a bitch.”

“Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes. “You’re still just as bad.”

The flutist’s jaw drops and you laugh. Jennie tries to appease her friend and Jihoon giggles to himself. The quartet has a few photos that are snapped from the photographer and after another hour of playing, each of you head off on your own, networking or nibbling on some refreshments at the table.

You try to find the dimpled stranger again but the person has disappeared in front of your eyes.

//

It’s cold and the lampposts barely light up the sidewalk. You wonder if you’re going crazy, rejecting an offer to be driven back with the others, leaving your instrument with theirs to be shipped to the school. You don’t even know where you’re going or what bus to take but-

“I knew it!”

He visibly jumps from your voice and cranes his neck around. “Y/N?” Namjoon laughs nervously, “what a coincidence.”

The pair of you both are fully aware this was no coincidence. Especially since the venue is essentially in the middle of nowhere and in complete isolation.

The muscle in your cheek jerks when you try to repress your grin. You saunter up to him with arms behind your back, a slight skip in your stride before you gleam up at him. “What are you doing here then?”

“Nothing. I was...taking a walk! Yes, taking a walk!”

“You walked...an hour away from campus?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a bad liar, Nams. Did you come to see me?” You put your hand over your chest, gasping dramatically. “How did you even sneak into the event? Wasn’t there only exclusive invitations? Did you climb over the fence?”

“I-....”

The last bus of the night pulls up at the stop and the harpist doesn’t waste a chance to get on, making you scan your pass and follow right behind him. He plops down to the second last seat at the back and you slide beside him. There are two other people around, each with earbuds in, listening to their music and not paying any attention.

Namjoon doesn’t speak a single word, obviously embarrassed with the way he tugs on his stiff suit and forcing his eyes not to wander to the slit in your dress that reveals more thigh than he’s ever witnessed before in real life. He attempts to focus on the sceneries out the window but it’s pitch dark. He can’t see anything for shit.

You scoff when you realize Namjoon won’t say anything and you shift closer.

The harpist shifts away. You lean closer to him. He moves again.

“Will you stop that?!” You bark out before roughly taking his arm, lolling your head onto his shoulder. You use his shoulder as a pillow to rest on. Your eyes flutter shut and the frown slowly fades away. “Stay still.”

Namjoon’s irises flicker to your drowsy face and he relaxes his limbs, allowing you to lean on him. “It’s comfortable.” You murmur past the seams of your lips, exhaustion washing over you. Rehearsal, playing for three hours and socializing with other professionals has left you drained.

The harpist inclines back into the seat, letting the nervousness and tension leave his body. He stares down at your open hand in your lap, the palm that faces upwards. His own fingers twitch, as if an instinct overtakes him to twine his fingers through yours. But he resists.

“No one’s ever really come to a performance...just to see me.”

It’s softly spoken to the point that Namjoon would miss it had you not been beside his ear. It’s been three stops and five blocks since you’ve last spoken. He thought you were asleep already.

“I wished my parents would but when I saw you….Namjoon, it made me happy.”

He gently brushes away a hair that’s tickling your nose. His pupils center around the pink petals of your plush lips and he swallows hard. “How is it possible that you can make me feel so happy?”

It’s a mindless ramble, one where you don’t even realize you’re saying. It feels like you’re balancing between the dreamworld and reality, letting your tongue tumble. Except, it’s not a dream.

Namjoon hears all of it.

“What are you doing to me?”

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

Chapter 9

Too late Solas detected the fire runes on the ground. In vain, he pulled hard on the reins, but the runes exploded directly under him. Terrified and wounded his horse fled into the woods to the far right. It was crippled, being hit by fire for the second time. Solas held on with all his strength, his side was burning terribly and a pulsing pain shot into his body. Deep into the woods the horse gave out, severely wounded it suddenly sank through its legs. With force, Solas was thrown out of the saddle. Hitting the snow-covered ground hard he yelled out in pain. For a moment he lay still, dazed by the harsh landing. The horse behind him whined loudly in fear and suffering as it struggled to get on its feet again.

Solas tried to get up but collapsed immediately again, groaning loudly. He clutched his side, it felt warm and wet. This wasn't good. Grinding his teeth, he rolled onto his back. Leaning on his pack, he managed to sit up. Despite the cold, sweat pearled on his forehead from the effort. Carefully he peeled back his coat to have a look at the wound. He muttered old elven curses from what he saw. His coat had burned through, charcoaled tatters of leather and fabric hung onto his skin. Countless black shards and chunks of debris had pierced his flesh above his hip. It was a bloody mess of open wounds and burned flesh. Blood had already soaked down to his leggings. With difficulty, he turned a little so he could reach into his pack. His ribs on the other side stung, and he had trouble breathing. “Great broken ribs.” he muttered while feeling blindly in his pack until he could feel cloth. Pulling it out it was one of his shirts. Not bothering to search further he folded it. His hands were shaking as he grabbed one of the bigger shards sticking out of the wound and pulled. He hissed out in pain while blood oozed out from under it. Without thinking he summoned a little of his healing power to stop the flow of blood. He was shocked when his magic fizzled into nothingness. Uttering more dark curses at his broken connection with the Fade he lay exhausted back down against his pack. Taking a deep, painful breath he tried the spell again but failed, his head was pounding from the effort. With the exertions of the day he was mentally too exhausted, his body too wounded to tap into his powers. He lay still for a while resting and weighing his options. . The last rumblings of the avalanche brought him back to reality. He couldn't stay here any longer, he needed help. Grabbing some elfroot from a pouch, he pressed it against the wound, before binding his spare shirt tightly around his waist. He hoped it would hold. With the pain numbed by the herbs, he managed to stand up with difficulty. The world started spinning when he got up. Using his staff for support, he managed to stay on his feet. A soft whining claimed his attention. His horse lay on its flank a couple of feet further. It had terrible burns on its legs and body, it was dying. Slowly Solas got closer. With big eyes the horse stared at him, the steam of ragged breaths escaped its nostrils. Solas knelt by its head. “I am sorry.” he whispered before cutting through its artery with his knife. Giving it a quick death. Warm blood gushed over Solas' feet as he painfully got up again. He needed to find the others, he needed to find Eirlana. Using his staff as a cane, he slowly started to walk leaving bloody footprints behind in the snow. .

Hours later Solas staggered through the snow, clutching his side. The snowstorm had arrived with all its fury. If it weren't for the dark shapes of trees and the markers of the Eastroad he passed, he wouldn't know if he moved at all. His mind was numb, his body tired and hurting, but he kept walking in a slow monotone pace. He scanned the ground and surroundings continuously for any sign of Eirlana or the others. If they had followed their original plan, they had to leave the road at some point to go further up the mountains. He paused when his feet stumbled in the deep snow, he was growing weaker by the hour. He didn't dare to stop and rest fearing he wouldn't find the strength to get up again.

Finally, he spotted what he was looking for, an indentation in the snow. Some time ago a group of people stood here. Vaguely he could make out a fading trail leaving the road leading in the direction of the mountains. Solas hesitated, the tracks were faded by the wind and snow, but it looked like they were made by far more people than their small group. With the storm and heavy snowfall, he couldn't see the mountains or any other markers to orientate himself. Not having many other options he followed the trail leading up the slope. Wondering if he was following the right tracks he ploughed through the freshly fallen snow. Suddenly he spotted a tiny faint light hovering next to the trail. Hanging a few feet in the air was a small light orb almost depleted of its magical energy. “Lethallan.” he whispered in a hoarse voice. Now he knew he was on the right path. . Solas staggered up the slope. It became more and more difficult to move his feet, his strength was slowly failing. The fierce wind blew right into his face, tugging hard at his clothes. The snow blinded him and was disorienting. He struggled forward, all that he could feel was the cold and pain. His limbs felt sluggish and numb. How many hours had he already walked? Or had it been mere minutes? He couldn't remember, just that he was tired, so very tired. Feeling dizzy he stumbled and fell into the snow. “I need to get up. I can't stay here.” Solas said to no one but the wind. With intense pain, he managed to sit up against a tree. He leant his head back against it. How had it come to this? In the past, he would have healed himself without any trouble. Now he couldn't even manage to warm himself. Time seemed to stop as he watched the storm rage around him. How had this happened? The base at Haven destroyed. That creature disappeared again with his orb. He had no illusions that it had escaped the avalanche and survived. The Anchor was missing, either it lay buried under the snow with the Herald, or the creature had stolen it. It was a great mistake to let his orb fall into its hands. Somehow the creature was able to manipulate the orb, all was it only slightly. It had unlocked a fraction of its power. He still could feel its sickly corrupting power probing, pushing, mixing with his pure energy. Why had the creature succeeded where he failed? Why had nothing gone as planned? Everything he had tried to accomplish resulted in a disaster and the consequences of his failures were carried by the world. A world created through his own actions, filled with lies, cruelty and injustice. Greed, power and suppression ruled once more over the weak. Nobody cared enough to fight for what was right. Nobody cared for the truth, for the history. It lay forgotten, rotting away. Forgotten were his sacrifices. All that he had done for the sake of the People was cursed and twisted beyond recognition. Solas struggled to keep his eyes open, he felt tired, so very tired. Just for a little while, he needed to rest. Just for a little while. Slowly he slumped over, his eyes closed, the snow piling up around him. . A familiar place started to appear. Solas recognised the Fade version of the realm he had created so long ago. He had spent millennia asleep here. In dreams, he had watched into the chaos of a changing world that he had left behind. Saw the world of the People crumbling into nothingness. Trees rustled and elegant light curtains billowed in the non-existing wind. The Fade could mimic many things but not everything. He felt the sun of an everlasting summer shine on his skin without warmth. Big curving stonework arches gave view to the lush green terraces and gardens with their still ponds, meandering pathways and hidden alcoves. Great statues of wolves stood proud watch, surrounded by seas of flowers and blooming plants. Turning around his eyes drifted through the room. It was furnished comfortably with the finest woodwork his People had to offer. Against the wall were several bookcases filled with his prized collections. Walking further his fingers traced the beautiful carvings of his bed. There in the waking world, he had awoken to a strange, unfamiliar world, a world that didn't belong to the People any longer. A world not remembering him. Where nobody seemed to care about the truth. Only lies and falsehoods had survived the fabrics of time. His mind felt heavy and dull, it became harder to concentrate. He was tired and empty. Sleep was calling to him, he lay down and closed his eyes. A small warning entered his mind. Sleeping here was a bad idea, but he had no longer the strength to fight it. Peaceful he drifted away forgetting all the things weighing on his mind. . The storm raged on. Eirlana was struggling through the horrific weather. She felt drained, her feet and legs numb, her skin raw and lips cracked from the cold. She had walked hours down the mountain again. Once she had stopped briefly to bind patches of fur cut from her cloak around her frozen feet. To protect them from the biting cold. Dawn had long come and gone, but the sun stayed hidden behind the dark storm clouds. Eirlana slowed down, her foggy breath blown away by the wind. She hadn't found any sign of Solas. Worried sick she extended her senses again, hoping to find something, anything. There it was. Finally, she found him, it was very faint, but she could sense him. She hurried further down the slope towards him, almost falling into the deep snow. Her heart sank as she saw him. Lifeless he lay slumped over against a tree. Half-buried under the snow. “SOLAS!” Eirlana ran towards him. The thick snow slowing down every step she took. She fell to her knees beside him. “Solas!” Her hands brushed the snow off his face and head. She grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Solas! Wake up.” Solas head slumped to the side as she shook him. He looked sickly pale. She touched his face again. He felt cold, he never gets cold. Panicked she pulled him out of the snow to check him. She noticed his burned and shredded coat. Carefully she removed his pack and lay him down. With shaking hands, she opened his coat. His crude bandage had soaked through, his clothes burned and dark with old blood. Her vision became blurry as tears filled her eyes. Frustrated she brushed them away, this was not the time to cry. She concentrated, and her magic flooded him. His side was severely burned and punctured by a lot of shards, there were bruises, broken ribs, it didn't look good. He had suffered severe blood loss from the wound, but luckily the bleeding had stopped on its own. His heart was beating slowly and his breaths shallow, but both were steady. Desperate Eirlana looked around, she didn't see anything that would offer any shelter. She needed to get him somewhere out of the wind, out of the freezing storm to clean his wounds and heal him. “Don't worry. I will get you out of here.” Eirlana said more to herself than to Solas. She was worried to reopen his wounds, but staying here was not an option. What scared her the most was that he felt so faint, his intense energy and presence were always around him even when he slept. Now it felt thin, almost non-existent. . Determined Eirlana shouldered his pack and bound his staff to her back. She grabbed him under his arms and attempted to drag him. It was impossible, the snow hindered every move she made. Her body was too drained and tired at this point to carry him. She fell backwards into the snow as her hands slipped from him. “Think!” Eirlana yelled in frustration. A strong gust of wind tugged at her cloak. Her cloak... she could use it. Hanging onto a thick branch of a tree she managed to break it off. With care, she rolled Solas into her cloak. Using his foot wrappings, she bound the branch and their staves under him. At the end of them, she tied her sash. Carefully she put the sash around her shoulders and lifted the staves with her hands. Her first steps were hesitant until she was sure the construction would hold. Dragging the makeshift stretcher, she made her way to edges of the fissure. Hoping she would find something where she could seek shelter. Dragging the stretcher through the snow was hard. The wind felt like piercing blades without the cloak. A few times she fell when the snow gave way, and she sank to her knees into it. Eirlana got up every time, biting through the bitter cold. She had to get him out of here. Desperation took hold of her when after a while she didn't find anything. When she sank into the snow again, she yelled out in defeat. Tired she turned towards Solas, tears running down her face. He was still unconscious, his face looked pale. She had to try again, she couldn't let him die here. Picking herself up again, she spotted something buried in the snow. Leaving Solas, she went to pick it up. It was a wooden plank. She looked around and saw more of them lying around and stairs. Stairs were built against the mountain leading to an opening. Eirlana hurried back to Solas and hoisted him to the opening. Finally, she had found shelter. . Eirlana collapsed at the entrance. The opening looked like an abandoned mineshaft. Ice blocked the way further in. It didn't matter, she was out of the storm at last. She quickly untied Solas. It was difficult with the wrappings being wet and her fingers frozen. Summoning a light, she carefully unwrapped his makeshift bandage. She hissed as she saw the horrible wound. Dried blood, flakes of burned fabric and black shards punctured his skin. She needed to get those out and clean the wound. “Luckily you brought your pack.” she told him. Opening it, she looked for his bandage supplies and his blanket. To her surprise, she found her comb. Why was it in his pack? For a few seconds, she stared at Solas, her comb in her hand, before pulling out the things she needed. With a little water that wasn't frozen she soaked the burned edges of his shirt, so she could carefully peel it off him. His ribcage was spotted with several dark bruises. He must have been struck by something and cracked his ribs. She brushed his forehead and cheeks gently with the palm of her hand. “Maybe it is a good thing you are unconscious. This will hurt.” She had to be careful, he would start bleeding again if she removed the debris. She had to do some creative healing to prevent him from bleeding out. With a deep sigh, Eirlana drank the last of the mana potion before she set to work. The cave lit up around her after she summoned more lights. Judging from the wound, he was hit by the dragon's fire that had exploded all around them. That he had managed to come this far with such an injury was a miracle. Not having pincers she began to remove the debris and sharp shards with her fingers as best as she could. It was a complicated process. Her fingers were frozen and being cut by the sharp edges of the shards. The severity of the wound became clearer as she discovered how deep the debris went. To her relief, the injury didn't start bleeding as much as she had anticipated, but the lack of blood also made her nervous. “You are lucky to be alive.” she sighed. Rechecking Solas' pulse to make sure he wasn't slipping further away. “Don't worry. You will be all right.” Somehow talking to him calmed her down. She didn't realise how used she had become to be around people. In the past, she was always relieved when she was alone. Being alone meant no one could hurt her. Now she missed the constant chatter of the people around her. . “Too bad, I can't make fire.” Eirlana joked as she started to shiver more from the cold. “You have to try to teach me again when you wake up.” It was strange. Solas had been in the storm for hours, but she couldn't find any signs of frostbite. It was remarkable even for an elf, who were better at withstanding barren temperatures. They don't freeze as fast as humans do. But after all these hours laying in the snow, he should have some damage. Her own feet, hands and ears were frozen, yet his looked normal. He even felt relatively warm to the touch. Cold for him, but much warmer than she expected. Finally, Eirlana had removed as much debris as she could from the wound. There were still pieces lodged in his body, but she needed pincers and hooks to remove them. That meant she somehow had to get him to the camp. Her magic spread through his body as she healed his ribs, burns and parts of the wound that were clean. After dressing the wound anew, she dropped exhausted against the walls of the tunnel. Outside the storm still raged on, until it was over they couldn't go back. Aside from the storm, he had to be conscious to make it back. . Solas lay silent, covered with his blanket. Why was he still unconscious? Eirlana got up again to check on him. His vitals hadn't changed, his heartbeat and breathing still shallow but steady. They hadn't changed at all. It worried her with all she had done they should have gotten stronger. He had no fever, what was very unusual. Nor had he moved or flinched since she had found him. His energy still felt very faint. This wasn't a normal state of unconsciousness. “Solas, where have you gone to?” she palmed his cheek. Her safest guess was that his mind had retreated to the Fade, but this felt different. Generally, you entered the Fade by a ritual, meditating or sleeping. Getting back was a simple matter of waking up. There was the possibility he was trapped by a spirit, but she found that very unlikely. Whatever it was she needed for him to return. It was too dangerous for her to enter the Fade and look for him. Exhausted as she was, there was no telling if she could wake up again in these temperatures. Especially with the flow of time being undetermined in the Fade. She had no idea how long it would take to find Solas. What could she do? It was impossible for her to drag him back to the others even when she waited for the storm to die down. Of course, she could wait for the scouts Cullen had promised to send out, but if Solas really was trapped in the Fade, she couldn't risk waiting that long. An idea came to her mind. She had never tried it before, but it was worth a shot. With care, she sat Solas up against the wall. Sitting next to him she spread the cloaks and blanket around them both. Sharing the little warmth they had. His head rested on her shoulder as she leant his body against hers. Holding him close she softly lay her hand on his forehead. If she couldn't go into the Fade herself maybe her magic could reach him instead. To give him a push to break free. Closing her eyes, she let her energy flow into him, concentrating on the faint connection he had with the Fade. Hoping it would reach far enough for him to notice her. . Solas lay peaceful in his sanctuary. He felt at ease, the problems of the waking world forgotten. Why did he ever leave here? It was hard to remember. Here was where he belonged. The world didn't need him. They had long forgotten his sacrifices, his failure to protect. No one cared anymore. The long sleep called to him, to dream, to forget. To leave all the troubles behind. “So....” In the Fade, Solas stirred. “Sola...” A faint sound drifted through the non-existing wind beside the soft rustling of the leaves. “Solas.” Someone was calling him. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. “Solas.” A whisper, it sounded faint, far away. Ignoring it Solas closed his eyes again. “Solas.” His eyes shot open. Who dared to call him? Who dared to disturb him in his sanctuary? The voice was somehow familiar. Slowly he sat up. The hazy fog clearing from his mind. “Solas.” “I know that voice.” The Fade was losing its shape around him. . With great effort, Solas opened his eyes. Cold and pain flooded his senses, immediately he closed his eyes again. He felt terribly weak, his body protesting with every breath he took. “Solas.” Eirlana was calling him. Her voice like a whisper, calling him softly. It sounded close, so very close. Slowly he regained his consciousness. What had happened? He became aware he was lying in her arms, bundled up in a blanket. “Eirlana.” His voice came out strained, raspy and almost inaudible. Eirlana froze for a moment. In disbelieve, she stared at his face. Tears welled up in her eyes. “You are awake!” Relief spread through her. A tear fell on Solas face before she hugged him tightly. He could feel her body tremble. Solas was stunned, his memories of what had happened were hazy. “Don't worry. It will be all right. I will get you out of here.” She let go of him. “How are you feeling?” Confused Solas looked around. They were in a cave of some sort. Outside the storm was still raging. Slowly his memories returned. How did he get here? Why was she alone? How did she find him? In his confusion he tried to get up, pain shot through him. With a groan, he collapsed back against her body. “Lay still. You are terribly injured. I healed what I could, but there are still shards embedded in your wound. I am sorry, I couldn't get them all out.” She took the water bottle, it had melted a little further now they were out of the wind. “Here drink.” Solas drank, the water refreshing his sore throat. Eirlana's hands began to shake. “I am sorry I should have been faster. If I had found you sooner I...” Grief and guilt swept through her, averting his eyes she looked down. Solas raised his hand, ignoring his protesting muscles. His hand cupped her face, gently stroking her cheek. Eirlana closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. The fog cleared more from Solas mind. She had searched for him and found him. . Suddenly there was a disturbance in the air, they heard a rift open further into the tunnel. A shriek of a despair demon pierced through the air. In a swift motion, Eirlana freed herself from Solas. Taking her staff, she erected a barrier around them. Solas could only watch as she placed herself protectively in front of him. Her eyes focused on the icy wall between them and the demons behind it, ready to defend them. Solas stared at her in disbelief. Why was she defending him? He who had failed her, failed the People. The negative thoughts that had clouded his mind were pushed aside. His pride and purpose flooded him. This wasn't right. It was his task to defend, to protect. He was the defender of the People. He had fought countless battles to free them, to keep them safe. He couldn't sit by and do nothing. With great discomfort he struggled to his feet, his body stiff and mostly unresponsive. He managed to get hold of his staff, using it for support he stood ready to help her. There was a flash, and a shock wave crumbled the ice blocking the path. Further along, the tunnel was Ryan, his marked hand raised towards a rip in the Veil he had just created. It swallowed the demons, sucking them back into the Fade. With another flash, it closed again. Ryan looked dumbfounded as he spotted them. Limping towards them. “What are you doing here?” . Ryan was wounded after his encounter with Corypheus and the dragon. He told them he escaped the avalanche by falling into an old mineshaft. Eirlana patched him up as good as she could given the circumstances. She set his dislocated shoulder and mended a minor fracture. In the meanwhile, Solas studied the Anchor that flared angrily. With his magic gone, he couldn't suppress it. “It appears whatever magic lingers in your hand has unified itself more with your body. You should have more control over the mark now.” Solas was both worried and relieved. Ryan appeared to have gained more control over the Anchor. Which was an impressive feat on itself. Ryan could use it to stabilise the Veil more, repairing the rifts that had formed all over the land. On the other hand, it could also be dangerous. What if Ryan would discover what the Anchor really could do? Solas suppressed a grin. Not that it was very likely, though Ryan appeared to be a capable leader, he was still a narrow-minded human warrior. What he knew about magic and the Fade wouldn't fill a cup. No Ryan couldn't discover its true purpose, besides he wouldn't be able to control it. His mind was not the right shape. The Anchor was specially created by Solas himself, no one else but himself could unlock its real potential. . Ryan peeked out into the storm. Eirlana slumped against the wall, resting her head on her knees. Exhaustion was getting a hold of her. How long was she already awake? It looked darker outside than before. The day grew to an end for the second time. Solas limped to her side, but before he could comfort her, Ryan began to speak. “Cursed winds, there is no telling where the others are. How are we ever gonna find them in this weather?” “They are further up the pass. There is a fissure that leads into a sheltered valley. Cullen has arranged temporary shelter for the villagers with the tents they managed to bring. It's a walk of a few hours.” Eirlana voice sounded muffled and weary as she spoke against her knees. Solas eyes widened. How did she know who had made it? How did she know about the valley? She couldn't have known unless she had already been there. Why was she out here now alone?

In shock, he started to speak in elven. “Asahn ea'se tor amahn sasha?”

“Ar'vegara withal sul se.” She answered him fluently.

Ryan looked at them annoyed. “Don't start talking gibberish. There is no telling how long this storm will last. We have to go and reach this camp. Are you able to show the way or not?”

Weary Eirlana stood up. “Yes, I can.”

Solas grabbed her arm. “Lethallan, you are tired. She needs to rest Herald.”

“I am sorry we can't afford to wait. I need to reach the others as quickly as possible.” Ryan made his way out of the tunnel.

“Lethallin.” Eirlana squeezed Solas hand. “We can't let him go out there alone.” Fastening her cloak tightly she led them both into the biting winds up the mountain.

.

Eirlana helped Solas balance himself through the snow. They both used their staffs for support. Ryan walked a little in front of them. Confident the wind would blow out any sound for Ryan to hear Eirlana started to talk. “Solas, that orb? It is Elvhen, is it not? I have seen them in old murals.”

It may have been her imagination, but she thought Solas froze for a second as she mentioned the orb. She wasn't sure what to make of the orb, having only seen a glimpse of it. But even from afar it had an enormous energy. Out-shadowing the corrupted influence of that Elder One, as Dorian had called him. She had never felt something so powerful in her life. Somehow it was connected to the mark and the Veil, they had the same energy. She had seen carvings and faint paintings of such orbs in old elven ruins. Mostly seen as objects of great reverence.

Solas considered his answer for a moment. “You are correct the orb is of my People.” his voice sounded strained from the struggle against the storm and the pain he was in. “It is called a foci. It is said that they once channelled the power from the elven gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of the pantheon. They echo from a dead empire, from what remains in ruins and faint visions of memory.”

Eirlana was silent for a moment. My People? Was it an error? She knew he, unlike most elves, didn't consider himself Dalish or City Elf. It was understandable, his demeanour, opinions and knowledge had no common ground with most people whatever their race. In part, she felt the same. Maybe he identified himself with them having witnessed so much of their history in the Fade.

Solas stumbled, hissing out in pain. Involuntary he leant heavy on Eirlana, who managed to keep them on their feet. Concern wiped away her string of thoughts.

“Wait a moment.”

He waited as she took a small container from one of her pockets. Taking a few small pellets from it.

“Here slowly chew on them, it will help with the pain.”

Solas didn't expect to taste the sweetness of crystallised honey with the light bitterness of elfroot.

“It's sweet.” he said surprised.

She grinned. “I made them for the children and other people who are troublesome at taking bitter medicine.”

He chuckled, she was well aware that he had a sweet tooth.

Slowly they started moving again. “So this Elder One,”Eirlana continued. “has claimed possession of this foci.”

“So it seems. However, he came to it. It is of Elvhen origin, and with it, he now threatens us and the heart of human faith.”

Eirlana was silent for a while. “We have to get it back.”

His eyes studied her. He had the strong impression she was not talking about the Inquisition. “I agree.”

.

All three continued the ascent through the storm. Eirlana correcting their path occasionally. Their pace grew slower as the hours passed. The deep snows hindering every step they made. The brutal winds draining their body heat and obscuring their vision. Every cold breath they took felt like a thousand needles in their lungs. Even Ryan who was a strong warrior struggled.

Eirlana kept pace with Solas. Helping him every time he faltered, despite her fatigue and shivering from the cold. Solas magic still eluded him as he struggled to keep his own body warm. He was in awe of her strength. Her will alone had drawn him back from the Fade. She was only a wisp the first time he laid eyes on her, a frightened little thing. He had taken pity on her back then. Not in his wildest dreams, he would have thought that one day she would save him. That she would risk her brief mortal existence for him.

.

Night had fallen as the ascent grew steeper. Eirlana's pace slowed down further and further. Solas became more worried as she started to stumble. He tried to lessen her load by walking by himself, but his limbs protested heavily. The ascent too much for his injured body. Even Ryan had grown exhausted and struggled forward. Luckily the storm finally had died down. Now only small snowflakes fell from the sky.

Eirlana stumbled again feeling dizzy, almost taking Solas with her. Solas' mind raced with concern thinking of anything to help her. “Lethallan, you promised me you will get me out of here.”

Her laugh sounded forced and weary. “Did I say that? I should mind my words more carefully in the future.”

“Considering one's words is often wise. But I recall these vividly.”

Panting she responded in a weak voice. “Don't tell Varric.”

Now Solas had to laugh. “He would make up an interesting version of it.”

“Eirlana, Solas. I see lights up ahead. We are almost there.” Ryan called.

Solas looked relieved up. In the distance, an opening was visible between the mountains. A faint glow of fires shone beyond it. He took another step forward when Eirlana sank to the ground beside him.

“Eirlana!” He dropped to his knees beside her, frantically trying to lift her from the icy snow.

“I am sorry” she whispered before she closed her eyes and her body went limp.

“Lethallan! Eirlana!” Solas held her body as best he could.

Ryan turned around as he heard Solas scream. He almost fell as he hurried back down to them. Removing his cloak, he draped it around them both. “I try to get help. Stay with her.” Shivering Ryan went up the pass again.

Solas brushed her face, alarmed how cold it felt he clutched her tighter against his body. Wrapping Ryan's cloak around her, he started to rub her body, hoping it would warm her a little. Closing his eye he tightly pressed his head against hers. “Wake up. Please, Eirlana. Wake up.” he whispered in her ear.

“Asahn ea'se tor amahn sasha?” - What are you doing out here alone?

“Ar'vegara ithal sul se.” - I came back looking for you.

[andseperand]

thoughts

ive been sitting on this post for the better part of a year. i tried to read through it and make edits, but im going to have to post this as is. maybe ill be able to edit it someday. anyway, this is completely composed of spoilers.

tl;dr: i mostly wrote bitterness about “kung food,” “origins part 1,″ and “reflekta.”

these are my thoughts on what ive watched of the first season of miraculous ladybug (i have watched most of every episode except the last three).

i may be confused or misinformed on some points. some of this is not as serious as other parts, and the writing style is disjointed because i didnt write it all in one go. any links are formatted within brackets (as in [text]).

ordered by the order i initially watched (parts of) the episodes in and indicated by villain name somehow (english, korean, french, french translation, etc.).

stormy weather/climatika

why did alya just toss manon like that? she couldve hurt something just being thrown around with her tiny little bones and joints that lack any significant cushioning. not to mention that her neck is completely unsupported. safety, much?

the bubbler/le bulleur

so the record is fully functional but also survived getting smacked off a building on its edge? wow.

copycat/l’imposteur/the imposter

i get that alya is supposed to be that “go-getter” friend who pushes marinette to be brave, but honestly, if she had waited another minute for marinette to be more ready for making a phone call, this wouldve been less of a mess. yeah, i get the “pushing boundaries to build confidence,” but honestly we could have waited for marinette to stop stalking adrien, too.

i gotta say: marinette is truly fearless. my phone is so suspicious. i would not have the confidence to deliberately touch it with my face and risk contact with who knows what has been on it.

the “moral” or whatever of this episode is kind of unclear? steal someones phone and run into issues with security but then also somehow break into it and get what you want anyway? no, thats not okay. its not that funny that marinette legitimately stole someones phone, and she doesnt even get seriously reprimanded for this.

timebreaker/chronogirl

one of the most pressing questions i have for this episode is why no one thought of using pockets or a bag or something to hold this important watch. hand perspiration is pretty bad for a lot of older and newer mechanical objects alike. why is this clearly-important item treated any different? ive considered both the “tikki is in the bag” (doesnt mean it has to be marinettes bag) and the “girl pockets” (marinette designed her own clothes, though) possibilities, and im still stumped.

mister/monsieur/mr./m. pigeon

how did chloe know what the colors were or even what the embroidery pattern looked like from a pencil sketch? it looked like chicken scratch.

lady wifi

im not sure that “dont violate other peoples privacy” was very well stated, seeing as alya was landed with an unfairly harsh punishment due to corrupt politicians. and how did that get resolved, anyway? was she still suspended? was there even supposed to be a moral in this mess?

the pharaoh/le pharaon

the villain is a pharaoh, continuing the ages-long trend of pretending ancient egyptian culture is just ~so interesting~ and that its portrayal isnt exploitative at all. i cant really say much about this, but i dont like those special ancient egypt episodes of anything.

rogercop

a mess

im pretty sure that this was to save animation budget or something, but why was marinette picking up those croissants off the floor and arranging them so nicely as if it really mattered what she did with them besides cleaning up the spill? i guess ill let it slide if shes trained that way as an advertising thing (though advertising doesnt get a free pass by default just because its strange).

the evillustrator/evil artist/le dessinateur

off topic, but could that tablet also erase or create living beings?

dark cupid/le dislocoeur/heartbreaker

this was still technically a kiss without consent? doesnt really feel all that romantic and whatnot. i cant really get behind this as shipping material.

horrificator

side note: i really liked how chloes english voice actor delivered the lines mockingly announcing mylenes “award” in the beginning.

im not a fan of the “you must kiss as part of acting” plot point. it always gives off those peer pressure vibes from other people and opportunistic vibes from main characters who want to actually kiss the other person.

darkblade/le chevalier noir/the black knight

sabrina is honestly super lucky that marinette made her box have a hole big enough for super tiny animated character wrists or else she wouldve been in a world of more pain.

alya had a platform? im so confused about how this election worked. did they do ballots or some sort of “heads down” in-class vote thing?

the/le mime

seeing as people dont lose their memories of being attacked by the villains, i really dont see how tearing down the eiffel tower (even in an animated show where people are not in the structure at the time) is the best way to minimize traumatic experiences. i get that it was supposed to be a “wow” moment for the plot and just visual effects but not the appeal.

kung food

the second i ever laid my eyes on this name i knew it would be bad, i just didnt know how bad because there were just so many ways it couldve gone with that phrase and i didnt know what to expect until i actually watched the episode. more on this in a bit.

there was literally no point to having the famous chef be related to marinette other than contrived circumstances to get adrien into this episode. im using this as a launching off point for talk of other stuff.

why didnt marinettes parents do anything about a relative coming to their house? this really baffles me because they have their daughter meet an effective stranger with no help.

why didnt marinettes parents tell her what languages the relative spoke? honestly, it kind of seems like they just didnt even care if this would cause her extreme anxiety or anything. you would really think they would have at least discussed this as a family because it was made pretty clear that his visit was actually expected. i thought way higher of their characters until it seemed that they pulled this crap move.

i know it was supposed to be all cute and a bonding moment when adrien came over to translate, but it was even more of a disaster. why did they take a car literally around the corner to get to the hotel? why didnt the chef go directly to the hotel if it was so close? was that adriens car? who was in charge of organizing this event and making sure the contestants didnt end up in the wrong place? how in the world did the chef even get to the bakery? because of the close proximity of the hotel to the bakery, it doesnt make sense that he would go to the bakery instead from an airport or something? unless he was supposed to meet his relatives? which, in this case, was not facilitated at all? so many questions are raised.

i dont speak nor understand mandarin, but im pretty sure adriens wasnt good enough for him to actually be complimented for it. then again, its nothing new to see white people getting complimented for deigning to learn a ~foreign language~ while i get interrogated about my lack of “authenticity” for not speaking “my native tongue,” so i guess the writers were just being realistic.

he bowed...funny story, at least one time i went to a restaurant with other visibly asian people and the apparently-white waiter kept making this weird head bobbing motion every time they left the table and what im saying here is that i know adrien has presumably been learning about culture stuff, but i also know firsthand that creators really love to shove bowing into media whenever asian people show up. (that waiter did give us extra mints, so i guess that was nice.)

sarcasm alert: i love when ~asian~ people have ~asian~ accents. its not like this is a tired gimmick that i dont need to see literally everywhere i turn (oh, wait! according to the english version, it is! hooray for me! this is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me ever! im not being sarcastic at all! or overly sarcastic to the point where im sarcastically putting in that everything ive written in this paragraph is sarcastic because im just so mad! or maybe it definitely is! it probably is all sarcasm!) [bonus sarcasm here]

the chefs english/default dub language fluency was either inconsistent or this was just a straight-up rude portrayal of a nonnative speaker of a language, because adrien didnt seem to wait five seconds (for the chef to even consider the question about what he was cooking) before talking to the chef (and naturally, being a polite person, the chef listened to what adrien was saying), and i feel like it was only for the sake of adrien being ~useful~ because right after that, he talks to the chef in english/whatever language? dont think i didnt notice that his english speaking got “better” after becoming a villain. you know, if they hadnt faked the accent in the first place, they wouldnt have had to hastily cover for the fact that their voice actor couldnt even execute it well.

im sure adrien and marinette tag-teaming to argue with chloe and her racist comments was supposed to be this whole “wow look at that team” deal, but it felt like adrien was shoehorned into this mess sloppily. woohoo for the white boy defending marinette because she cant do it herself or something! i do appreciate when white people help stand up for me, but in this context, it feels off.

i have such a big problem with the “pep talk” adrien gives marinette when she thinks the chef doesnt like her. first thing, white boy explaining things about a person of color to a person of color, and the two people are actually literally related? i think the bouquet misunderstanding was really bizarre, and when did adrien have time to gain all this extensive exposition? the interview when they first arrived was short, and i dont think that both adrien and the chef would be so rude as to exclude marinette from their conversation in the car on the way over. this just comes off as a way to have adrien ~encouraging~ marinette, and its not a very good one.

this supposedly super prestigious competition literally has no security to make sure no one is mucking around behind the scenes, let alone ensure that the contestants arent up to any funny business. because why not. and no cameras around either, because cooking-based television programs never show any cooking, just the tasting and subsequent subjugation by a villain (this is a sarcastic sentence). even if this is supposed to be a featured dish and thus one they dont want to showcase the recipe behind, they could still have those little soundbites interspersed with candid panorama shots (can you tell i have no idea what any of these words mean?). im just going to have to chalk this one up to animation budget and move on.

i know this was just a sort of (intendedly funny) visual thing, but i highly doubt that the objects chloe put in the soup could just go unnoticed, especially since i presume a chef would thoroughly stir (and taste) their cooking, and the soup didnt appear to have properties of decomposing things touching it. otherwise that tasting session would probably have turned out a little messier (i am completely kidding here).

why is the chef being upset about being sabotaged made into a ~cultural~ thing? why is a white boy telling marinette about her ~own~ culture? sheesh, its like you cant just be upset because your shot at a world title was ruined on live television and you have confirmation that you were deliberately sabotaged. yes, chloe did it because shes petty and racist, but the results of her actions could upset anyone! its not just because the chef is chinese! what is the point of saying that? its a pointless throwaway comment! why dont you just find some other way to get the chef alone so he can be become a villain that isnt a) nonsensical and b) making sweeping generalizations about people? (granted, i cant speak to the validity of anything said about cultures, but i sure can comment on why saying such things about them isnt okay regardless).

“kung food” oh my god. this is such a piece of crap name. it is racist. you can literally try to argue against this until youve gone far beyond oxygen deprivation and in a grave but itll still be racist by the time youre done. aside from the pharaoh, there arent a bunch of ~ethnic~ names (not that it would be okay for that to be the case anyway) running around, and yet we get one with this specific villain whose ethnic and national origin is talked to death? okay.

and ive seen this pointed out, but the villain appearance seems to have a kind of anime-inspired design, which is honestly a good laugh because who was just talking about not conflating china and japan again? weeaboos and sinaboos are often in the same boat.

okay, not related, but adrien just had to taste a suspicious substance off the floor. why. there are so many ways to figure out what a substance is before putting it in your mouth. or you could just not do that at all. before this point, they did not appear to suspect a food-related villain, so this couldve ended badly.

another side note: i dont know how that receipt retained its integrity long enough for ladybug to wrap the villain up after dipping it in the soup. do the magical items just have super special properties like extra toughness that allows them to defy the reality of paper receipts? i wonder how many of the things ive talked about in this post have been me marveling at the sturdiness of lucky charm items.

of course this turns into an ~accountability~ lesson for marinette. and chloe doesnt get reprimanded? yeah, she got booted off a panel she didnt even want to be on and no one actually clearly articulated to her that the things she said were absolutely unacceptable? then again, this is a “diversity episode,” so i dont know why my standards are so high.

wow, marinette really needed to have adrien encourage her before going to take a picture with her great-uncle? im going to be generous and allow that she wanted to make sure he would be okay with her ditching him for her much cooler great-uncle because she didnt want him to feel bad about how not-cool he is in comparison. there, you see what i mean about making up story elements? (though im really not much of a writer, oops.)

im so over people making fun of how others dress as a joke. before i realized that i am autistic and reflected back on my life, i didnt realize that i gravitate toward clothing i find comfortable rather than fashionable, and ive always gotten negative comments, ill-intended or otherwise. so i really didnt appreciate marinettes jab at chloe, even if it was to defend herself. it was just unnecessary.

i want to talk about the whole ~chinese representation~ thing in this show. yeah, i know marinette is one of the very few chinese and mixed main characters out there (and there are barely any that are both), but im going to be super honest about this: i dont think shes all that great. i am a big fan of her and this show, but that doesnt make it infallible. the fact that adrien of all people is telling her about her own culture is a huge failing in itself. i dont know everything about my own cultures, but its not cool to have a literal outsider being shown to be the expert on someones culture and be the one to guide them through that. theres barely any portrayal of sino stuff in the show as is, and i hate the way this is only shown as a kind of special episode topic. i would be way more fine with this if this wasnt basically the sole instance of discussion of marinettes heritage. and no, the fact that her mother wears stereotypical clothing doesnt count. at all.

okay, this has been a huge issue for me before and after this point, but it was in this episode that it was made abundantly clear just what we are dealing with. i know that it is completely possible, genetically speaking, for a mixed chinese and white person to have blue eyes. its also completely possible for a chinese person to have gray eyes even without being mixed (i say this because i dont know if her mother is monoracial). however, if you only have two confirmed recurring characters of chinese descent, and their eye colors are ~special~ colors...well, thats kind of iffy there. why is it that the minor chinese character has stereotypical eyes? theyre basically just expanded pupils for all intents and purposes, which is not the problem, because its possible to have irises that are so dark as to make figuring out whether they have a distinguishable brown tint to them really hard. anyway, i suppose i dont want to talk about things ahead in the season, but why is it that the background asian characters get the stereotypical eyes but the main characters who are asian get the special eye colors? (that was a rhetorical question. i know exactly why.)

im pretty that at some point in the creation of this villain name, someone patted themself on the back for being so ~clever~ like “haha kung food geddit? its like kung fu but with food because im actually not that creative and more racist than i would like to openly admit.” okay, i know im being a bit harsh. but its really annoying when one of the few things people “know” about sino people is that kung fu exists. and honestly, i kind of suspected this, but ive seen other people say that the villain more resembles a villain from anime, so...thats kind of disrespectful there...

the/le gamer

i really disliked marinettes combo move names. they all had ~asian~ words like lotus, jade, oriental, etc.

animan

i find the sniffing scene to be kind of creepy. personal space much?

the city has really high quality buses. i cant believe the bus didnt end up backfiring on their plan because if i know anything about buses its that the ones ive seen are probably way older and more decrepit than me.

antibug

how do the earrings work in this setting? as far as i can tell, it would make sense for chloe to have pierced ears and a pair of ladybug imitation earrings that she could put it, but how is it possible that ladybug was able to just pull the earrings off? because that could be a really, really messy situation if they are actually piercings with backings and everything, but is there an explanation for this? magnets, clips, anything?

the puppeteer/le marionnettiste

can that glowing bright red effect that comes from her yo-yo and the power cord being swung around just for the viewers, or can it actually be seen in-universe? or is that a null point because both items are generated by ladybugs magic?

reflekta

this show really didnt need any “haha look a ~guy~ in a dress” jokes. and honestly, this was ill handled (though arguably, its very existence was ill handled). first of all, im not the best judge of this kind of thing, but to me, ladybug felt out of character while mocking chat noir? honestly, marinette doesnt strike me as the type of person to find that kind of situation funny in the first place, so the premise doesnt really hold up in my opinion. i know marinette can make mistakes, but youd really think she would be more open to not thinking this way because she knows what its like to be bullied for other things. moving on... [though, to reiterate]

the way this was not addressed? at all? yeah, ladybug apologized for that one comment at the beginning of their conversation, but then she continued to make jokes at chat noirs expense, and it just wasnt as funny as it was probably intended to be?

i know the whole thing about ambiguous chronology, but there is no reason ladybug wouldnt take chat noirs opinion into account when planning for things anyway. it felt like that part was written specifically so he could “prove” his worth to the rest of the episode and ensure that, yes, he is still allowed to be in it after being turned into a reflekta lookalike, and the whole thing smacks of trying to write out of a corner...that was written into in the first place. if it hadnt gone the route it did with the mocking of appearances, i dont think it would have had to be as convoluted as it ended up being.

i personally dont care for high heels, but i dont get the kind of “fashion cracks” that were being made about them. like yes, high heels can be hard to move in? yeah, it isnt fun being turned into the appearance of someone who isnt you against your will? i just dont understand this gag.

guitar villain

did ladybug really honestly just full-on spray someone in the face with the contents of an aerosol can? im aware that the point was that the hair was in front of his face, but what if some had gotten into guitar villains eyes? dang, what if someone tries to emulate this in real life? ouch.

digital/numeric

kind of done with the spotlight on stalking behavior this show has.

marinette still shows no fear of suspicious screens. she continues to use parts of her face to touch one multiple times, never mind that she literally flings her yoyo all over the place.

stoneheart/coeur de pierre i

did marinette have pierced ears in the first place? shes not shown taking any earrings out, and we dont get that clear a view of her earlobes anyway. that might be deliberate for modeling budget and all.

master fu has brown eyes. so thats like four ~chinese~ characters that are in this show, and the main character and her mother have the special eye colors, and the minor character who is somewhat important to the plotline has non-black eyes, and the minor one-episode character has the black eyes. what a shining example of diversity (no).

anyway this is a good point to say that some things are just not for you. there are things that you just cant be a part of no matter how much you want to be because it just doesnt work that way. and the mess that is the miraculous “mythology” is definitely an example of this. i myself have very little knowledge of anything sino, but i sure as heck can spot that this...”history” thing is so off.

at this point i should probably mention i really dislike master fu as a character in general. just as a single point, apparently hes based off the teacher character in karate kid? i saw somewhere that the creator said he basically made marinette mixed because he was dating an asian person when he was thinking about the show and that marinette is basically his idea of their mixed kid? and back to the eye color thing (again), ive even seen someone with green eyes and blue hair suggest to him that they could be the child of marinette and adrien, and he said theyre like his grandchild? (im not really inclined to try to dig up an iron-clad, indisputably genuine source for this right now, but if youre honestly searching for completely serious, well-researched information in a really good quality post, this is not the post you are looking for.) i have no idea where i was even going with this paragraph.

stoneheart/coeur de pierre ii

why is marinette so invested in her crush on adrien? this couldve been a sweet crush, but no, she has to make it so creepy? leading up to this episode, i really didnt know what to expect because i really thought there would be some sort of explanation for just how extreme the lengths marinette goes to are, but from what i can tell, shes just being super invasive? the ambiguous timeline doesnt really help with this, nor does the fact that the origins episodes were aired at the end of the season. whatever characterization was supposed to be inferred from this feels choppy and unnecessary.

simon says/jackady/jacques a dit

i dont really blame her, but ladybug totally could have reduced the level of adrien distractedness going on here. shes previously shown signs of compartmentalizing ladybug and even having to face the fact that it isnt worth using up her power over adrien, but gosh golly, what gives?

princess/princesse fragrance

ive seen criticisms of how ladybug was written to be overly competent in this episode, which i think is fair since it keeps happening, and its so late in the season by this point that its gotten tired.

volpina

i try not to be too judgmental, but frankly, adrien is not that great of a prize.

anyway, from what i can tell about this episode, i think that there was too much on marinettes flaws, which i really think is a bit much to have in the last chronological episode of a season. its already been established that she makes mistakes with her decisions, but i just thought her unequal prioritization of adrien was too much. it just seemed contrived to squeeze in scenes that the creators wanted to animate regardless of overall context in the show, which is really unfortunate because of how the show becomes a little less chronologically ambiguous at this point.