#sorry but this made me notice knives awful toes on the floor

[typhoonstrikes]

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

[jengajives]

Lots of feelings about how my fave siblings would have felt about Maedhros’s fun trip on Thangorodrim. Also Best Cousins as well

“Wake up, Your Majesty.”

Maedhros didn’t move until the sharp toe of an iron boot jabbed his side. Then he grumbled and rolled over, but would not rise.

“Your Highness,” sang the serpent’s voice from somewhere above him. “Your feast awaits, oh King.”

A clatter. The tray of whatever food he was gifted with for the day hitting the damp stone floor. Maedhros still did not move.

“No appetite, hm? Your Majesty just isn’t himself this morning. Usually you’re so excited for your meals.”

A high, hot laugh. Maedhros got the idea Sauron was putting his boot in the food. A lovely image.

“You can tell your master,” he said flatly, without cracking an eye or rolling over, “that if He wants me mocked and ridiculed, He’d better come down here and do it Himself. I give little weight to the word of lesser servants.”

“Lesser?” Sauron repeated. Heat leached into his voice; Maedhros could feel it rising from the coward’s skin even before the fire-bright hands reached down to grab him, burning another set of hand prints into his shoulders with fat, red welts.

“I will show you lesser, pup,” Sauron seethed, “Are the failure son of failure fathers, and I am Flame itself!”

“You,” Maedhros said though his voice quivered with exhaustion, “are just a slinking dog afraid to leave his master’s heels. More likely to roll over than to stand up and fight.”

The pain of heat grew red and wild, like touching molten metal. Sauron’s fingertips dug in and Maedhros found himself locked in a fiery scarlet gaze.

“We shall see who rolls over for whom,” Sauron snarled, and dragged Maedhros unresisting from the cell.

“Look at you!”

Sauron’s eyes glowed in the dim light, gleaming with smug victory. His hands, so rarely idle, twitched by his side until he had to grab Maedhros by the hair and yank his head up so he could get a good look at his face.

The small myriad of new cuts went from cheekbone to cheekbone. Jaw to jaw. It was nothing, of course, compared to the pain against his spine he was convinced would never leave.

It had been hours and still it hurt sharp and blazing hot as ever.

It seemed like Sauron was trying to burn letters into his very skin, though he worked too gradually for Maedhros to make out the script.

Sauron laughed and gave him a sharp slap.

“The High King of the Noldor, eh? I don’t see it. All I can see is a houseless and pathetic murderer getting what he deserves.”

Maedhros spit at him, splattering his face with blood. Immediately the flame in Sauron’s eyes went white hot.

“Why, you little-“

“Mairon.”

Sauron paused, one hand drawn back and glowing like molten metal, as his master appeared looming like a mountain in the doorway.

“That’s enough. Leave him.”

His eye twitched but slowly he straightened and obeyed, with a courteous bow.

“Of course, Master.”

He shot Maedhros a spiteful glare as he stalked from the room, still wiping blood and spit away with a sleeve.

The sound of Morgoth’s approach was like a rumbling in the earth, but Maedhros had learned to ignore it. He let his head hang limp, cheek pressed to the cold stone, breathing steadily, trying to convince his scrambled mind it was safe to rest, even if only for an instant.

He hadn’t yet fully mastered the terror when Morgoth reached him and lifted his head by the hair.

No rest. No rest was fine. He didn’t need to rest.

“I’m afraid I have bad news for you, Nelyo,” said Morgoth with mock pity, his expression twisted into a deep frown. “I’ve just gotten message back from your dear brothers.”

Something cold that probably had been hope once rose into Maedhros’s throat, and he didn’t have the energy to keep it from showing. Cruel amusement flashed behind Morgoth’s heavy eyes.

“Unfortunately, it seems they’ve abandoned you to torment and pain for the rest of eternity.” The sympathy dripping from his voice tasted like poison; it was difficult not to choke on it. “Isn’t that just awful? Your own family... not even willing to save their sweet Nelyo. Their King. How horribly tragic.”

Any attempt to think through the news logically failed, so the only thought going through Maedhros’s head was the certainty that it was a lie. Maglor and Celegorm wouldn’t abandon him to this, surely. Fingon wouldn’t... Fingon...

No. Fingon wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming, he couldn’t be, and even if he was, why would he want anything other than pain for the sons of Fëanor? After what they had done... after what Maedhros had done to him. No, there was no rescue. No freedom. The Oath bound his brothers never to give up the pursuit of their enemy, not even for his sake.

“Get on with it,” Maedhros growled, raising his gaze to meet Morgoth’s. “I’ll be avenged. You’ll be paid for the lives of my grandfather, and my father, and... and me. Go ahead and do it.”

A pause, and then Morgoth laughed wild and cold.

“Oh, sweet boy. You think I want you dead? You think I want to kill you? No, no...” He leaned closer, his breath a whisper of ice and stone. “I want you to watch your brothers die. I want you to see exactly how fruitless all your labors have been. You, my dear Nelyo, are not going anywhere.”

Maglor was so distracted looking out over the mountains that he didn’t notice he was no longer alone until he got a hand clapped on his shoulder.

“Brother.”

He almost jumped as he flipped around, but managed to restrain himself.

“Celegorm!”

“Your hair is getting long,” Celegorm said, with a weak smile on his face as he rustle his fingers through the growing curls. Trying not to look as sad as he was. “It looks nice. Going to braid it again soon?”

“Oh. Yes, I think so.” Maglor did not have the energy to attempt a smile. Didn’t have the will.

“Good.” Celegorm patted him on the shoulder again. “Good. A king should have braids, yeah?”

Maglor was nodding along until he processed the words.

“K-King?”

“Yes.” Celegorm straightened up, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. He had the same cool, collected expression that most of them wore nowadays. “You are next in line, Maglor.”

“Next in...” he trailed off, glancing east again to the mountains. “Wait, no, Celegorm, Maedhros is-“

“Maedhros is gone.” He would not meet Maglor’s shocked gaze. “It’s time we start accepting that. Our people need a king, and you-“

“No!” Maglor stepped back. “He is alive! Maedhros is our king, and he’s alive, and we aren’t going to abandon him like that!”

“I’m just saying we should think about it,” Celegorm said. “That’s all.”

“No.” Maglor looked at his brother in horror. “That’s awful, Celegorm, I’m not leaving him like that!”

“I’m sorry.” Celegorm backed up, hand raised. “But he’s gone. There’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”

He turned and left the room, and Maglor put his face in his hands and wept.

The air was bitter cold up here. Bitter cold and reeking of smoke.

Maedhros tried so hard not to feel the pain anymore. Tried to close his eyes and drift to sleep but he couldn’t. The pain was too constant.

If his hand could have come off, it would have by now. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

The stone was razor sharp and tore at his back like knives. The wind bit into his flesh. And the manacle sliced his wrist and sent a constant stream of blood down his arm.

It hurt too bad to find escape in sleep.

It hurt too bad to think.

When the clear sound of horns rang across the hills and echoed through the peaks, Maedhros almost thought his mind had wandered entirely out of reality.

But then he saw the blue banners of Fingolfin in the valley below, and the horns rang out deafening and clear, and it was so loud it shook him to his core.

Fingolfin.

Fingolfin was here.

He was here, waving his banners, banging on the gates of Angband under the light of the silver newborn moon.

Strength flowed immediately through Maedhros and he squirmed, pulling himself up by the chain around his wrist. The white gleam of armor and jewels glittered like a living river of hope.

“Uncle!”

He twisted, trying to get enough air to his lungs to scream.

“Uncle!”

He didn’t know how Fingolfin had gotten here but he was here. He had come.

“Fingon! Uncle! Aredhel!”

His voice rang across the rocks loud and clear. Surely loud enough to be heard. Surely.

Surely. Please.

Please.

Night and sat blurred into one honey-slow and unsteady pulse, so slow. So slow and he had hung here longer than he could comprehend.

His back was sliced to ribbons by the stone face behind, and the cuts around his wrist were never properly allowed to heal and had turned his entire site dull copper with dry blood. It rained every once in a while and rinsed him clean, but mostly he was suspended there in his own blood and sweat and filth without escape.

No escape.

Never any way out.

Never.

The sound of strings on the wind couldn’t be real because no one would ever crawl up here for his sake, for any sake, let alone play. Let alone sing. Sing a beautiful song in Quenya that Maglor had written about the white streets of Tirion like some ghost of long-lost peace.

His body shook with shivers and fever and he closed his eyes and raised his nose to the wind.

Humming along brought momentarily peace, so Maedhros parted his dry, cracked lips and took up the tune slow and gentle. His voice was in no shape for singing, but he managed it, and it made him feel at home, so he tried anyway.

Abruptly the song stopped. The music died. He lowered his head and returned to the cold and the torment.

“Maedhros?” called a voice, and over a face of rock far below poked the dark head of Fingon.

Fingon.

Fingon was here for him.

He’d come.

Tears steamed hot down his cheeks, the only water he had left.

Fingon crawled onto the flat granite shelf and got to his feet, a vision in gleaming blue with a harp at his side. He stood for a moment studying the rock and the sheer face between himself and his cousin, then he cupped his hands over his mouth and called again.

“Maedhros, I can’t reach you!”

Even from this distance, Maedhros could see the silver bow slung across Fingon’s back.

He croaked words and just had to hope they reached all the way down.

“Just shoot.”

Blood ran down his bicep and dripped through the hollow of his spine.

“Fingon. Please. Just shoot me.”

He closed his eyes and missed if Fingon replied, because his arm ached so horribly he couldn’t even think.

It seemed to him a long time before he opened his eyes again and saw Fingon sat on the stone with his face in his hands and the bow resting next to him. He was crying. Maedhros could see his shoulders shaking from here.

Eventually he stood, picked up the bow and turned around to face the precipice.

Maedhros saw his lips moving, but he couldn’t hear the words. All he could see was the gleam of the bow as he drew it.

He closed his eyes again.

Awaiting the momentary pain that would herald his release.

It did not come.

He heard the wind of a hurricane, felt it push against his face and smack him back to the rock, and the roar of beating wings, and then hands on his shoulders holding him, warm, and firm, and present.

“It’s alright!” Fingon spoke through tears, a desperate smile on his face. “I’m here. I’m here, Maedhros. I’m going to take you home!”

Maedhros did not answer. It hurt. It hurt and it wasn’t like Fingon would be able to get rid of it.

He could feel him tugging at the chains. Trying to pry the manacle off the rock. Trying everything.

“Fingon,” Maedhros breathed. “Fingon, please. You can’t get me out of here. There’s no way out. Just... if you could just... please...” He looked meaningfully at the sword his cousin wore at his hip. “Just end it. Please. I can’t...”

“No, no. Stop that, I’m not leaving you. You’re going to be fine!”

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to cry but his body wouldn’t manage it. “Fingon. I’m sorry. I-I never meant to leave you b-behind.”

“Just hush. Keep your strength.”

“I’m sorry...”

Another tug at the manacle. It wouldn’t budge.

Finally, Maedhros heard the scrape of a sword being drawn, and a silver flash of sunlight blinded him.

Yes. Yes, at last. At last.

“Hold still. It’ll only hurt for a second, cousin, I promise. Just- Just don’t move!”

The dull pain in his wrist turned sharp and he let out a scream that echoed endlessly across the peaks.

So sharp. So cold.

Turned him to ice.

Froze him all up.

He didn’t even notice Fingon holding him, wrapping him in a cloak, forcing warmth back into his body. Binding his hand tight and clean.

His hand his hand his fingers were twitching and he could still feel the manacles.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed quietly into Fingon’s chest, and for the first time in too long he received an affectionate touch.

He closed his eyes and went at last to sleep.

[imjusthereforbatfam]

Never-Ending Encore, ch.2

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Chapter Summary: Cookies make everything better, right? RIGHT!?

Warning: minor swearing, minor panic/anxiety attack

---

Chapter 2:

“You planning on staying like that all night or…?”

Eden silently cursed herself, the world, and everything in it. Some small part of her still hoped whoever it was wasn’t actually talking to her. Just… somehow magically right next to her without noticing her. And... talking to someone else on her fire escape. Yeah.

Eden quietly huffed at her own idiocy and slowly began to move. She scooted back onto the metal stair, shifting her weight off her aching toes. For a moment she just stayed like that. Praying for… she didn’t know what. Some kind of miracle. Then, with a gulp, she finally inched her head in the direction of the voice. 

A man – a huge man – leaned casually against the metal railing of her fire escape. He wore a full red helmet that obscured his every thought and intention from the world. His arms were crossed as he, apparently, observed her.

"What, nothing to say?" he asked, his voice somehow modulated to sound almost robotic.

Eden just stared at him. The white “eyes” of his helmet were forever etched into an angry sort-of look that made her nervous.

Well... more nervous. She was already struggling with the fact that he had suddenly, magically, appeared on her fire escape on the 9th freaking floor. And with the fact that he was a thick, 6-foot-something mass of muscle who could probably snap her in half if he wanted. And that he had a pair of pistols holstered to his hips. And that this was happening in Gotham City; the place filled with not only violence and corruption on every corner, but actual, real-life, will-kill-you-for-funsies villains.

Needless to say, it was a lot to take in.

“Unless you wanna risk getting shot,” the man said evenly, apparently choosing to ignore her silence, “you should go inside now. Shit’s about to go down out here.” 

“Are you a good guy,” she blurted in a high, fearful pitch, “or a bad guy?”

The man said nothing. After a moment, his helmet shifted very slightly to the side.

A stream of curses ran through Eden’s mind. She was so dumb. Why was she so dumb? Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she just keep her damn mouth shut? She knew, logically, that she’d eventually be fine no matter what – she always got another encore – but that didn’t mean she had to help dig her own grave, damn it!

The man shrugged and, after a moment, said, “Depends on who you ask.”

“I asked you,” she shot back, then blanched at her own brazenness. This was no time to be Louanne Smith’s daughter. “Sorry,” she said dropping her head. “I, uh— I meant… I asked you,” she tried sweetly. “Um, sir.”

A short sound came out of him. It was too distorted to know what it was meant to convey, but Eden desperately hoped it was amusement.

“As long as you’re not working for any drug cartels or mob bosses, you should be fine.”

“Oh, darn!” she said snapping her fingers. “There goes my five-year plan!”

The man didn't say anything. His head shifted back slightly. Eden had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

An actress needs to know how to read their audience, and Eden usually considered herself pretty good at it. But with Mr. Ominous Angry Helmet, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He could be amused; he could think she’s an idiot; he could be thinking about shooting her. She just didn’t know. That only made everything worse.

Anxious, jittery energy shot through her limbs, jerking her into motion. She swung her body away from the unnerving man, picked up the plate at her side, and turned back to him in one quick, unbroken movement. Her blanket fell off her shoulders with the action and the cool night air felt like knives against her hot skin.

“Would you like a cookie, sir?” Her voice was up a few octaves and moving fast. “They’re snickerdoodles. Homemade. My mama’s recipe. Fresh from the oven and still–” she lifted one trembling hand, hovering it over the few remaining cookies “–yep, still pretty warm.” She lifted the plate closer to him. “Do you want some, Mister, uh–” she glanced down at the symbol on his chest “–Red Bat, sir?” 

The man’s silence was deafening.

Eden stared at the cookies, hating her brain, questioning her sanity, and cursing herself internally. She didn’t want to die tonight. More importantly, she didn't want to be shot tonight. Or ever again, really. Being shot hurt. If she were never shot again in her life, it would be too soon. And yet, here she was. Probably about to be shot again because she couldn’t shut her goddamn flap. 

After what felt like an eternity, the man finally asked, “Did you really just offer me cookies... and call me Red Bat?”

“Yes?” she squeaked. Then, unable to stop herself, a slew of words spewed out from her. “I’m really, really sorry if I offended you, sir, but I only just moved to Gotham a little while ago, so I still don’t know who all the important masked people in the city are, and, in my defense, there are a lot of important masked people in this city, and honestly, I still don’t even know all the good guys from the bad guys yet, which is why I was asking you earlier, but I really don’t wanna get shot either way, so if you could maybe just consider sparing me this one time, I swear I’ll figure it all out and just forget this whole thing ever happened and move somewhere far, far away, or I could start a fan club for you or something if you really wanted me to, or maybe even—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Mister Not-Red-Bat said putting up his hands. “Easy there!” He knelt down, making himself far smaller. “I get it. You’re new in town.” His distorted voice wavered, like maybe he was either trying not to laugh or not freak out himself. “Calm down and take a breath before you pass out, alright? It’s no big deal.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. No big deal. Good to know.”

“Breathe,” he reminded her.

“Right. Sorry. Breathing. Important. I should do that." 

The man nodded along, urging Eden to do that. 

It took a few tries, but eventually, she was actually able to take a full, deep breath. The man breathed with her, moving his whole body with the motion to guide her. His movements were so exaggerated Eden couldn't help but feel like she was on a stage with him, performing in front of an invisible crowd. She watched him, following his slow lead as her nerves began to settle. 

Eden turned away, letting out a long, even breath before doing it on her own. 

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah... Thanks." She looked at him again, wondering why in the world he even bothered to help her in the first place. "Are you... one of Gotham’s vigilante people?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Red Hood.” He reached behind his helmet and lifted a red hood attached to the back of his leather jacket for her to see. “Hood,” he said again. “Not bat.”

She smiled at the action. “Hood, not bat,” she repeated. “Got it. Sorry about that."

“It's fine. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sor—"

He lowered his head in her direction. She could almost feel him giving her a "Really?" look. 

"Uh— I mean—” Her cheeks burned against the cool night air. She offered up the plate of cookies again. “Snickerdoodle?”

Red Hood shook and lowered his head as a small noise escaped him. “I’m good.”

Eden's brows lifted up in surprise. She was almost positive he was amused.

“No, really, I insist!" she said quickly. "This is going to be burned in my brain as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life anyway,” she admitted with playful ease, “I’d at least like to know I compensated you for your role in it. Beautiful performance, by the way, Mr. Hood. Very well done. Excellent timing.”

Red Hood leaned forward again, clearly snickering this time.

“And besides,” she continued, excited now, “you’re a vigilante in Gotham City, of all places! That’s a tough gig, Mr. Hood. You deserve to be rewarded for your troubles! And what reward could be better than homemade snickerdoodles by a random civilian? I mean, really now, I ask you.”

He shook his head minutely as she waved a hand around the plate of cookies like a showgirl. She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, sounding like he might be fighting back a laugh. He grabbed a small handful of snickerdoodles and tucked them into a coat pocket. “Thanks for the reward, random civilian.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re more than welcome, Mr. Hood.” She took a cookie for herself, pleased to find it tasted better than they had a bit ago.

“You really should get inside now, though,” he said getting serious again. “I doubt your neighbors,” he nodded toward one of the buildings not far from her apartment, “will be as willing to share their goodies with me when I come knocking.”

Eden stopped chewing and stared at the building. Part of her was a little in awe. She knew she was in a not-so-great part of the crime capital of the world, but she hadn’t imagined anything vigilante-worthy was actually happening on her crummy little street.

She looked back at Red Hood a moment, processing the information, then quickly finished her cookie and started tossing her things into her apartment.

“Okay, well, good luck, Mr. Hood!” she chimed climbing through the window. “Have fun, or whatever you’re supposed to tell a vigilante before they go, uh…” She frowned and quirked a quick brow at him. “Vigilanteeing?”

With one foot resting atop the wrought iron railing, Red Hood looked as big and threatening as he had before, but Eden wasn't afraid this time. He was a good guy. Ready to jump off into the night and bust some bad guys. But he didn’t. He just stared at her.

He tilted his head. “Vigilanteeing?” he teased, undeniably amused.

Eden turned away from him, her face heating up. “Whatever you call it! Do good deeds, don’t get shot — all that fun stuff. Have fun vigilante times or whatever.”

Red Hood made another sound – laughing at her – and Eden stared at the floor, hating her big mouth and wishing she could just phase out of existence. When she gathered the courage to look up again, she was surprised to find her fire escape empty.

A bit foolishly, she poked her head back out the window. She looked in the direction of the building Red Hood had indicated, but there was nothing to see. No Red Hood, no thugs, no nothing. Just an unusually quiet night on her even-less-safe-than-she-thought street.

But somewhere in the shadows, a vigilante was about to make things a little better. Eden was glad to know that, and glad to have thanked him for it in her own small way. She knew how hard a life like that could be and had nothing but respect for the people who chose it.

Eden, however, didn’t choose a life like that. She was perfectly happy being a totally random civilian, thank you very much. So she shut and locked her window, put on her headphones, and tried to have as much of a totally random civilian evening as possible.

She cleaned the dishes, studied her script, and went to bed early. Just like any normal person might. She ignored the sound of gunshots that managed to pierce through her music. She ignored the red and blue lights that eventually flashed outside her window. She ignored the voice in her head that told her she should've offered Red Hood her help – which was stupid for many, many reasons – and desperately fought off the thought that kept drilling into her head — that if he died tonight, it would be her fault.

When she got up in the morning, haggard and ill-rested, she went to the window straight away. There was nothing in the light of the day to suggest anything vigilante-worthy had happened on her street in the night. It was as dirty as usual, with the usual suspects mulling around their usual spaces. Everything was in its grubby, crummy place. The only difference was the yellow line of police tape and the few broken windows in the building Red Hood had nodded to.

Eden sighed, wondering about the vigilante and what had happened to him. She started to shut the window again when she noticed a folded scrap of paper sticking out from one of her tiny pots of herbs. She plucked it out and carefully opened it. 

‘Thanks again for the cookies. They were really good. - RH’

Eden smiled and let out a breath, the night's worries instantly lifted from her shoulders. She re-folded the little note and went to find a safe place for it — completely and totally ignoring the bloodstain along the paper's edge. 

Yup. Totally ignoring it.

----

Chapter 3

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Coping Mechanism — Ch 5

[Previous Chapter]

    Izaya wasn’t a hot-blooded individual, he only mimicked one — merely caught up in the moment it was hardly a permanent detriment to his nature. It's just that he was currently hot and bothered, both mind and body struck with fever.

An overactive imagination compromised his chill composure as all his attention was drawn to the bathroom which hid a scene he could only pretend that he witnessed. Warmed ceramic cradled in his hands, overheated brew burned his throat; polyester-wrapped cushions redirected his body heat up onto him, an old flame barely separated by drywall yet completely exposed — Izaya could not keep cool.

              “Mind if I join, hot stuff?”

              “Only if you drop the shitty puns.”

Honestly it was the simple things Izaya remembered the most, what he missed more than the sex, but //clearly he was not without those lusty thoughts. Due to circumstance, one beat out the other as an obvious winner.

    “What a selfish beast he can be... probably doesn't even know that he’s a tease…”

The shower ran stifling as Shizuo was wont to run it which created a blanket of humidity inside the tight quarters while an extension of its steamy forcefield billowed into the living room. Although he couldn’t see it, Izaya knew how the suds further censored the attractive man in the shower, its attempts failed as soap slid over muscle to his feet. Izaya remembered the way Shizuo looked, though not the way he felt beneath his own fingertips. He remembered the way his own curves were felt up, but not the actual touch of Shizuo’s carefully rough caress. Memories recalled the initial chill of water, but couldn't reenact how heated the droplets became after they hit their skin; how the smell of retired deodorant and cologne washed away all distractions — how oddly sweet and hypnotising their sweat could be while its misty remnants swirled their bodies. Izaya distinctly remembered the satisfying burn of shampoo when it seeped through his ill-sealed eyes, what slipped beyond his own smirk while the two paused to drown in air; the sweet-nothings, crude compliments, the spoken sputters and spat words, groans and giggles, frantic and hungry touches...they were all painfully arousing to his senses and only his resolve prevented Izaya from adding himself to the scene; easily change the teen appropriate content to something R-rated.

              “It's good clean fun, hm?”

              “That’s what you call our showers?”

              “It's an idiom, Shizuo.”

              “So you would mind breakin’ it then…”

              “You know, just because we’re in the shower doesn’t change the fact that your thoughts are ‘dirty’.”

Of course their showers were hardly successful — they were an excuse to feel alright about jacking up the water bill, an expenditure that was satisfying enough to split dessert once in awhile, not like Izaya ever needed to worry about that sort of monetary slipup. Under the sensual effects of those moments it was fun to pretend that they were two living in financial poverty while rich in love. And now Izaya found himself in bankruptcy with an overabundant desire to spend beyond his budget.

That's what drove him to crack the door, curse as he remembered the shower stall was beyond visibility from that viewpoint. The mirror also a wash all hazy and ineffective, barely even a blurry form upon it. Frustrated he gave up, turned away while he tugged the door behind him until he heard a low and murmured externalised thought — an echo from within the stall.     “...Izaya…”

It shook him like the rain of discarded water that Shizuo shook from his hair, that to which he glimpsed between the door crack above the hinges.

    “Fuck.”

Izaya thumped his head against the corner door frame, chastised himself and Shizuo for setting him up with such a nuisance to deal with. One glance of the other man with his head hung at his shoulders, affected by his own sensations, had Izaya feel like he needed to join in the same act — separate, in secret, but still the same. Auditory cues sent him into his memories, to one in particular and perhaps a twisted favourite of his subconscious.

     His skin had burned red, agitated from the extended spray of the shower head; it was harshest across his shoulders and traced around his blades, stung over the tracks of nails that sliced like knives. Clean cuts were only deep enough to balance out the soft attention that pathed around his abdomen. A half-drenched mop even with the height of Izaya's waist while Shizuo's eyes stayed out of view, not as though it weren’t easy to read his intent without having access to facial expressions.

    “You have work today.”

    “Yeah…”     “And you’re taking your time.”     “Uhhu.”

    “You’re not leaving enough time for yourself.”     “Then make it up to me later, Izaya, just shut up.”

    “How bothersome, planned sex is such a travesty to the whole act.”

    “For fuck’s sake.”

Izaya had to hand it to Shizuo on occasion, he could be swift in motion, a flash strategist when need be. Unpredictability — the highest high that Izaya could extract from any moment, but especially from Shizuo's actions.

Within a second Shizuo towered over him once again, the next moment Izaya felt tile grout imprint instantaneous bruises at his kneecaps; and even though he knew what the implied course of action was, it was still exhilarating to look up and feign sweet naivete and wait for direction from Shizuo.

    “I guess I’ll...make it up to you later, louse.” Izaya grinned, tickled that his partner could get so flustered over others wanting to please him; clearly it was Shizuo who was more in desperate need of a release anyway. Izaya shook his head while he played it off as trying to discard excess water from his bangs.

    “I’ll hold you to that, Shizu-chan”

It was anticipation that often made Shizuo shudder, sometimes more than the sexual favour itself. He was just that intune with his instincts, feelings, and the moment — just a tease along the underside of his shaft riled him intensely, the intentionally slow buildup to his tip was on par with a low key climax.

The drawn out ministrations went on longer than needed, but it was a treat, something that Izaya could get off on simply by observing Shizuo while he was entranced by the atmosphere; how ecstatic he was, eyes widened at the increasing pulse. Jaw slack, he stuttered guttural words, braced himself against the shower wall with a suction grip that almost broke the tile. And with a light rake of teeth that ended with Izaya's tongue play, it dialed up the sensation as the slit was given explicit attention; Shizuo nearly did the same damage to the floor with his curled toes as he did the wall as he restrained from premature release. He wanted to extract everything he could from Izaya’s efforts.

He seemed blinded of all reality yet intensely aware of his partner. Paid Izaya his gratitude, who hid his face while he bobbed forward and back between without eye contact, shielded away so he couldn’t confirm who grasped his hips firm fingertips, took only a solo knee while the other rest against his calve as if any amount of contact wasn’t enough — as if there were any confusion of what man applied his skilled tongue. Shizuo stroked from the crest of Izaya's bowed head, around the outside of his ear in order to trace what he could of Izaya's cheek; sensual appreciation and a sincere //'thank you’. It made Izaya cum after the arduous stroke of his own erection that he could hardly focus on while he worked at the job he did for Shizuo.

    It was a struggle to restrain himself from whipping the door open, forgetting to strip his clothes and ask for that returned favour that he was promised so long ago. Slam Shizuo against the wall to make him snarl, smile with relief that he was still desired. But what cemented Izaya’s feet, what prevented him from doing much more than kneading his palm over his crotch, was ruined when he recalled the tragedy that had indebted Shizuo in the first place.

                “Was that good enough for you, sweetie?”

                “You're ruining the moment.”

                “Aw, how am I ruining the moment, sugar-tits?”

                “Ugh, you know how.”

                “Alright, alright. I'll stop…Shizu-chan.”

                “Fuckin’ brat…”

                “See you have nicknames for me too, sweet cheeks.”

                “Ugh, I shouldn't wanna marry such an annoying pest.”

                “...excuse me?”

Izaya stopped as the scene came back to haunt him at the most inopportune moment.

                “Ah, well... I thought of ways...the best time to ask...I just...nothing felt right yet...”

                “You think this is something you spring up out of nowhere, without consulting me first? Like a rigged proposal flash mob where everyone's in on it including one being proposed to? A cheap way of pressure me into saying yes?”

                “The hell is a flash mob?”

                “Shizuo that's not the point.”

                “What is it then!?”

                “You're not ready for marriage.”

Izaya forgot that he held his coffee until the mug dropped at his feet. The shock killed his desires upon crash of ceramic.

    “Hey! Izaya...you out there? You alright?”

Squeaks, thumps, the slide of a glass door caused Izaya to panic.

                “The fact you were thinking about how you would propose rather than if I would even say yes tells me that. How you’re still too selfish for a partnership.”

                “...ah...right.”

Izaya ditched the mess he made and bolted for the door; he scrambled over the couch instead of rounding the obstacle. Forgetting his coat and extraneous phones he left on the counter, he only snagged his shoes before he struggled with slide locks and deadbolts that used to be easier to undo.

    “Goddammit, you better not leave, asshole!”

Izaya peeked over his shoulder, noticed that Shizuo barely tied a towel around his waist like he knew he didn't have the time to dress in anything else.

    “Sorry,” Izaya wavered.

A salute and a door slam preceded his dash to the elevator, conveniently a crack away from shutting; he managed to slip on by and cushion his momentous collision with the back wall.

Izaya rammed his head on the surface, breathed all too heavily to calm his panic. Only then did he notice a mature older lady to his left who was shockingly tempered, like she long knew of Shizuo's chaos; he made sure to flash an apologetic smile regardless.

As the lobby neared, he slipped on his shoes, forgot about the laces and prepared to bolt.

              “You won't even move in with me, like you're intimidated by my success?”

              “...well...”

              “You're preoccupied by the romance, Shizuo, not as if we even have much of it.”

              “You finished?”

              “Not especially, no, but I think you want me to be.”

Izaya struggled a final breath as the doors opened. He took long strides through the space, but halted in terror. At the stairway exit stood his ornery ex, loosely wearing his trademark parka as some sad attempt to cover more of his decency.

    “That apology upstairs wasn't what I wanted, louse!” He didn’t even huff, was barely short of breath, just spoke clearly with a commanding bellow.

    “I know,” Izaya nodded, shrugged with a pained smile. “Sorry,” he directed his word towards the puzzled couple shoved in the corner in clutch of the other.

    “Neither was that! How obnoxious can you get!?”

Izaya faced the street entrance, a fraction of pride in his posture, though his legs still refused to progress; stationary, he continued to trigger the automated doors to open after their close. While paralysed he fiddled with a small item — his hand dangled at his hip; polished and unmarred, a piece of jewelry was spun around in contemplation, consolation. It was something he hadn’t worn nor held earlier.

    “You’re such a coward. Don’t know why I thought it’d be any different when you showed up.”

    “Well,” Izaya pocketed the item, replaced it with his cellphone, “you are an idiot.”

He gained confidence from the snide cover and walked off — to his satisfaction Shizuo let him go. Just outside he let go of his breath.

    “I screwed up again, Shizu-chan. Honestly, I’m sorry.”

[spootiliousrps]

Suspicious Nature Part 7

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

“Practice.” Eve said softly. “Everyone starts off where you are now. So don’t worry, we’ll get there.” She said softly.

"By Sunday?" Cas asked, obviously doubtful.

“We’ll get there.” Eve encouraged. “If you can learn to fight, then you can learn to walk.” She smiled.

Cas squinted at her still not on the same page. "Doubtful. At least with fighting you have to have a strong stance... this is... this like walking a tightrope with strong wind." He huffed before chuckling. "I'll make you a deal... If I learn to walk in these by Sunday, you let me teach you how to fight." He offered playfully.

Eve’s eyes grew wide. “I’m too old, and too much of an Omega to ever contemplate it.” She whispered.

That made Cas give a snort of amusement. "I was born just as much of an Omega as you, Eve." He pointed out in amusement as he took a shaky step. "And as far as I am concern I've trained older people than you."

Eve smiled. “I just don’t feel comfortable around weapons. I feel better in heeled shoes and dresses.” She said as she held tightly onto Castiel. “You need to be in control. Don’t fear the shoes. Command them. Tell them what you want.”

Castiel glared down at his feet. "I demand you cease your wobbling!" He snapped at them before addressing Eve

"And I the opposite." He admitted. He took another step, this time keeping from tripping at least.

 Eve laughed. “Not like that. When you had to command your men, you changed your posture and the way you stood. “Don’t lead with your heel so much, as you walk, keep your toes on the floor, just for the moment.”

That made absolutely no sense to him as he attempted it. It felt like he was stomping. This was ridiculous and he was becoming annoyed very quickly. "I feel like a horse prancing about like this." He huffed as he kept his posture straight.

  “I know. You’ll get used to it. I promise. I looked awful when I learnt.” Eve promised. “Slide your toes along the floor and then place your heel down.”

The Omega gave an annoyed growl as he complied. He managed a few steps before wobbling and giving another curse. "Why cant I just were my boots. The dress is long enough no one will notice? What if someone decide to try their luck how am I suppose to fight in these?"

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Eve said softly. “You can always take your shoes off, and apparently a kick hurts a lot. But no one will try it on.”

 "Sorry that wasnt directed at you." He sighed. "Just been a rough few days. My feet as dying... do you mind if we take a break?"

  “I understand. Let’s sit you down and take them off. We can talk cutlery and dinner manners.” Eve said, helping John to sit on the bed.

 "Thank you." Cas sighed in relief doing his best to try and reach his feet over the bulk of the dress and giving another growl of frustration when he failed.

 Eve smiles and knelt down, taking his shoes off gently. “Shall we take your dress off as well so we don’t crease it?” She offered, patiently.

 "Yes, please." Cas rushed in relief already beginning to try and get it off.

Eve chuckled and help Castiel to unfasten the dress. “It is very pretty, it suits you well.” She said softly as she hung it up in his wardrobe. “You’re lucky you have all these clothes made for you.”

Cas pursed his lips as he considered his reply. "Thank you." He mumbled far more softly as he moved to dress in his regular attire. "I only wish I had a say in any of it." He admitted as he tugged on his trousers.

“We generally don’t, Sire.” Eve said softly. “You were lucky to have the opportunity to get the Royal treatment. They are kinder and give you more options.” She said softly. “You could have worn anything within reason and they would have made it.”t

"You say that and yet I was stripped down and marched to my quarters. I wouldn't call that a kindness." He grumbled.

“No Alpha would punish us. Not someone like His Majesty.” Eve said, as he eyes glazed over for a moment before blinking. “He’s a good man, he’s trying his best to not only learn his job, but to care truly for Omegas. His father wasn’t a good man. You are in the unique position to help His Majesty in these areas, if you do this, he’ll break through heaven and hell if you asked.” Eve explained softly.

"All I've asked is for some respect and him to stop threatening my family and yet every time he hears something he remotely doesnt agree with it's always straight to torturing and punishing the only family I have. I would happy to assist it He wasnt such an assbut." He scoffed. "Trying or not he had a cruel streak that reminds me of his father at times. And yes I know just saying that could get me hanged." He sighed. "I just dont care anymore."

Eve sighed. “No Alpha is perfect. Get him somewhere open, not confined in his quarters. Somewhere he likes to be. And speak to him kindly and softly. Offers him something he would like, ply him into a good mood and then explain that you don’t like your family being threatened. If you’re lucky he’ll open up as to why he’s being an... assbut. And then offer to help him work on whatever reasons he gives.” Eve explained softly as she turned back around to face the Omega. “His Majesty is probably still in mourning as well and he’s not being able to process that.”

Castiel hesitated, blinking at her in surprise. He... hadn't really thought about the fact the man might be mourning. Even if he didnt care for his father's actions it was still his father... perhaps he could manage that. "That was... very helpful and wise... thank you Eve."

Eve smiled, “I’m just old, my dear. I’ve been around a long time. Shall we get on with your dining etiquette? If you do well, I’ll listen to more of your thoughts and give you my thoughts.” Eve offered.

"I... would really like that." Cas admitted the tension in his shoulders fading more in that moment then that had since the whole thing began. Honestly... he missed his talks with Gabriel... it would be nice to have someone to talk to now that he was stuck in the kitchens.

Eve nodded as she brought out a set of pristine cutlery with ten sets of knives and forks. “There’s going to be ten course meals on Sundays, each one with their own cutlery.” She explained.

Castiel groaned at the information but he sat up listening carefully as he counter the utensils.

“So all you really need to know is that you use the knives and forks from the outside in. Apart from the soup course and you use the round spoon. Additionally, sometimes you use a second spoon for dessert, but it won’t be out of its not used.” Eve explained as she pointed to each spoon.

"Out in. Got it." He acknowledged. "So, what will I need to know about being an Omega in that situation?" He asked adjusting them slightly.

“So you’ll all arrive for a set time, as you do you’ll take your seat.” Eve started. “Your seat, this week will be at the head table on His Majesty’s right hand side. As you’re the newest Aide. There you’ll give a minute or two speech about your credentials and what you’re planning on achieving in the role. His Majesty May have already spoken to you about what he’s wanting from the military.” Eve explained. “Five minutes after the arrival time the King will enter. Everyone will rise, and salute him. Once he sits, the Alphas will, and then you as an Omega. I believe His Majesty is planning on overturning this rule so you’ll seat when the Alphas do. But as far as I’m aware he hasn’t done this yet.”

"Good to know. I suppose I will have to wait until he does." He acknowledged. "It will be upsetting to most of the Alphas that an Omega is becoming an Aide but I would like to keep it to a minimum." He sighed.

Eve nodded, “You’re the first in history, so there will be backlash. But you are paving a way for everyone other Omega. I will help you as much as you can, and so will His Majesty. The King wants you to succeed, that’s why he was giving you all that help at the beginning.” She explained. “Don’t throw the help away for the sake of vanity.”

Castiel scoffed at that. "Vanity? If only..." He sighed. "I had appreciated the help... it wasnt that... But tell me Eve... if he makes it a point to provide me with more than a typical Alpha, would that not be special treatment?" He asked. "If I gain these things when Alphas do not, it become more than just help it becomes priviledge and I become the favorite Omega who slept his way to the top even if it is untrue. By refusing the help I am nothing more than an equal. Yes it will be far more difficult... yes it will be dangerous but then no one can argue than an Omega /earned/ their place rather than being handed it.... That we are worth it. Thay we /can/ do it. This isnt just about me... or my vanity. It's about all of us. I dont want to be given anything that would make my job harder in the long run... including favoritism."

Eve sighed, “Sire, I cannot tell you what do to, but I would take the help. Everyone would believe I am the favourite anyway, because of the job I hold, the job proves favouritism enough, people will believe I slept my way to the position I hold, so I would take the help. It could be dangerous, like you said, so I would want anything that will make it easier, even just for one day.” Eve explained. “His Majesty wouldn’t want the reputation that every Omega he sleeps with to get a high level job, so he would dispel the rumours, anyway. I would take the help and at least go to sleep feeling safe.” Eve explained, placing the cutlery set to one side and gently taking his hand.

"Perhaps." Castiel sighed, considering it. Even if he didnt agree with the woman she did have some valid points. He gave her hand a small squeeze in return. "I could also kill any Alpha that tries anhthing." He offered. "Eventually they'd get the picture and leave me be." He shrugged knowing that's not really how that works.

Eve chuckled. “That’s if you don’t get thrown in prison first.” She smiled warmly.

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I don't know Eve... there is a lot of ifs and maybes...  To be honest... I just miss home... not that there is a home to go back to after this." He sighed, glancing away, eyes sadder than they had been just a moment before.

“Why don’t you tell me about home?” Eve suggested. “We can try and make this room more homely if you wanted?”

Cas snorted at that, offering her a warm smile that made the still healing lip burn a bit. "That is very sweet but I doubt it would be manageable." He mused. "This room... it's too large and lavish. In the barracks all I had was a simple cot, the things I needed to care for my armor and a small wardrobe for my clothes. But honestly it's the people I miss... My men... the ones that were always there, always giving counsel or laughing in the next room." He gave a small sad sigh. "His Majesty has reassured me I can visit when I become Aide but... unless it's for business I dont believe that is a good idea. I have no doubt made most of them very angry and would not want to cause any more trouble than necessary. Still... it has only been a few days and I miss them terribly... And worst of all Gabriel isnt even here to help... His Majesty obviously despises him and after so many threats I wouldnt dare visit him... but I do worry about him."

“My sister works in the kitchens. She is as old as me. I’m sure she can swing it with the chef to let her look out for Gabriel, or many even train him.” Eve offered. “I’m sure His Majesty has a good reason for not liking Gabriel, he won’t despise someone for no reason.” She smiled. “Talk to His Majesty. Let him open up to you. He’s just as lonely and new to the job as you are. You two can help each other if you just try.”

"Oh... I wouldnt want her to bother herself.... Gabriel is quite a handful." He admitted softly. "Though it would put my mind at ease." He admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Obviously side stepping her words regarding the King. "You are very kind Eve... Thank you." He sighed. "It shouldnt be as rare as it is in the world but it is." He smiled at her.

“It shouldn’t, but if you work hard it won’t be rare ever again. Maybe even one day, your great great grandkids might see an Omega Queen in charge.” Eve said wistfully. “Come on, let have another try in your shoes and then I’ll leave you to rest.” She said softly.

Cas chuckled at that. “Yeah… Maybe.” He mused before his smile faded and he gave a childish groan before moving back towards the bed to put the torture devices back on his feet.

“Come on, I’m sure the last thing you want to do is walk into a room of stuffy old Alphas and look weak or even trip and fall.” Eve chuckled, as she helped Castiel to put the shoes back on.

“You’re right but I still don’t see why I can’t just wear my boots.” He huffed as he strapped them on and stood with a bit more confidence than before.  

“Because you need to prove that no matter what they do to you, you are better and will overcome it, and do their jobs ten times better.” Eve smiled, trying to instil confidence into Castiel.

The Omega shot her a side glare with no real heat, hiding a small smirk. “Must you always be right?” He teased lightly. “Its infuriating.” He chuckled as he tried to take a step forward. They really were painful.

“I’m old. When you’re my age, you’ll always be right too.” Eve smiled warmly. “Stop putting so much weight on your heels, try just walking on your tiptoes.”

Cas’ smile faded but he tried to comply, wobbling as he did so. He was certain he looked like an idiot but he did as he was told and slid his feet forward one at a time.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well. At least you’re doing this without me holding you.” Eve smiled. “No one is perfect straight away. It takes practice. I’m sure used to tell the new soliders that all the time.”

“Yes… though I feel a bit childish hearing it told to me at this age.” He mused as he waddled across the room, only almost falling twice.

“And you were trying to get to teach me to use a sword.” Eve smiled. “I’m proud of what you’ve done today. You’ve come so far is such a small amount of time. You’re a quick learning.”

“Well, I certainly try.” He offered, gaze still on his feet as he continued his treck. “I don’t think I’ll ever take for granted the Omegas who wear these.” He admitted softly.

“And here you were wanting to get away from your Omega side.” Eve smiled. “Is there anything you want to ask me about being an Omega? I don’t want you to be confused about anything.”

Cas paused considering it a moment. “I…” He began flushing deeply. “Apparently I am having a bit of issue hiding my scent. Is there something I can do?” He asked, as he moved to sink down with another sigh, feet already aching.

Eve sighed. “Share you heat. You’ve been so long without a heat, I believe your body may have... almost regressed back to a prepubescent stage. You’ve just come off the suppressants, so now your body is a teenager who has presented for the first time. It can’t control your scent or anything else related. Usually it settles down when an Omega shares a heat with an Alpha.” Eve explained softly. “That’s my best guess but I’ve never met anyone who has used suppressants before. “Your heat may be... strong as well. I know that whilst pregnant, an Omega doesn’t have heat, and after the nine months, it’s as if... the heats have built up, and is released all at once. At may be the same for you.” Eve explained. “So speak with an Alpha now, explain this and ask for their assistance. It will help ease the... desperation.”

Cas wrinkled his nose at that. “I think I rather be locked in a cage and forgotten.” He grumbled softly. “I don’t detest the idea of laying with an Alpha.” He clarified quickly, realizing how it sounded. “Its just… I don’t trust any of them in that aspect. Alphas are fine men in general outside of the bedroom but they’re aggressive sadistic beasts the moment the scent weakness.” He stated flatly as if he believed that that was the case without exception. “They want nothing more than to take what they desire by any means and leave their Omega as they please.” He gave another sigh, deflating a bit. “I suppose I’ll just have to figure out another way.” He mumbled already deep in thought, not realizing how serious his words had been.

“Castiel...” Eve said softly. “Make a deal with an Alpha. They can lay with you, but not knot you. Talk through what you want and don’t want. I promise if by the end of your heat, your scent will get worse and you’ll be in so much more pain. Don’t do that to yourself, just for unfounded stubbornness.” Eve said softly, taking his hands. “You’ll understand why I’m saying this if you trust me.”

Cas glanced at her evenly. “Unfounded?” He scoffed. “I might not have lain with an Alpha in some time but I’ve been with enough to know that nothing about it is ‘Unfounded’. And I would still need to find one that I could trust their word which at the moment is zero.” He sighed. “Maybe Surges…” He contemplated.

“He has a job that will take up too much time. You need someone who is their own boss.” Eve explained. “You are going to be in heat for the majority of the day and night.”

“Well, if he is assigned to me again then his only job would be to be with me.” He contemplated. “But that would imply I’d actually spend a heat with an Alpha.” He pointed out. “I have a lot to consider but I’m not sure of any of it.”

“Well you have my opinion, and...” Eve thought for a moment, “even if it’s not true, you can phrase it as it being you giving the Alpha your heat, and as such you can ask for something in return from them. Just... don’t throw the ideas away.” She hummed softly.

“Honestly Eve, I value your opinion to much to throw any of them away. Even if I don’t like them.” He teased lightly. “Can I take these off now?” He asked perhaps a bit too quickly.

Eve nodded, “but I want you to try walking around the room a few times today. I’ll be back tomorrow and I want to see you do it without help and without falling.” She smiled.

“I will do my best.” He offered returning her smile, very thankful for her presence suddenly.

Eve smiled and tentatively opened her arms. “I know you will. You’re a good man.” She said softly.

He hesitated before moving into her embrace which only made him miss his brother, the only other person he really hugged.

“You’ll do well. Just don’t try to do it alone. People want to help, allow them.” Eve said, before pulling back.

“I will do my best but if the cost is too great then I have to refuse.” He sighed, straightening as well.

“I know but you have to try. For all of us, you have to succeed or it will only get worse for us.” Eve said softly. “I’ve seen too much progress to watch it regress.”

“I can only promise to do my best.” He reassured. “I am just a man, though it seems like there are a lot of people who think otherwise.”

“We are all so desperate to show we can be equals. And you have the opportunity. Our dreams are to have the opportunity you have. But I will help any way I can.” Eve promised.

“I know… I hope to make the dream a reality.” He acknowledged. “But I am will still make some mistakes. I hope you can forgive me when I do.”

“We will. And I hope you’ll call on me if you need any advice.” Eve said softly. “I want to help you through this.”

“Speaking of which…” He mumbled softly. “How attached are you to your position?” He asked. “When I become Aide its my understanding that I can choose a number of advisors to assist in a great number of things. From what I’ve gathered most Aides choose military advisors but I feel as if I can manage that bit.” He admitted with a small chuckle. “Its etiquette I’m pretty worried about.”

“I’m too old to keep up with the young ones, but I don’t want to retire. It would be my honor to be your assistant, Sire.” Eve said bowing as low as she could with a fist over her heart.

Castiel’s grin broadened as he returned the salute with a shallow bow. “I hope you know what you’re getting into… It’s not going to be easy being an Omega assistant with the first Omega Aide.” He pointed out. “Could be dangerous… You sure you don’t want those sword lessons?” He teased playfully.

“I trust you’ll protect me, Sire.” Eve smiled. “Plus who would want to try it on with me? I’m old and saggy.”

The words caught Castiel of guard and it took a moment for him to realize what she had said before he burst into laughter.

Eve smiled and chuckled softly. “I’ll meet with you tomorrow at the same time. I want you walking around the room on your own.” She smiled, “and talk to a handsome, free Alpha about your heat. As your assistant, this is what I’m telling you to do.”

Cas shot her another glare still without any heat behind it. “Pushing me already I see.” He teased but nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“It’s for the best.” Eve smiled before leaving the room and Castiel in silence.

Castiel watched her go, feeling a bit better with the world around him. She was right… about so many things but perhaps he should address one thing at a time… He glanced at the shoes, toss haphazardly to the side… One thing at a time… just not /that/. He ignored them before turning to his desk and beginning to try and find the words to address the King.

To his Most Excellent Majesty Dean Winchester, King of Shurley

May it please your Majesty,

 To permit an unworthy, but loyal subject to approach your Majesty's throne in this manner, as tradition will not let me do it in any other.

I would like to humbly, formally request and audience with his Majesty, The King. It has come to my attention that there are a few subjects which may need to be discussed. While this is not a formal matter, which is a bit unorthodox, I feel that there is many misunderstandings that could be clarified with a simple civilized discussion; outside the confines of the castle and its inhabitants.

Perhaps if the King could find it in his good graces to spare a bit of time, an inspection of the new Knight Commander could be arranged with his Aide to be? I am certain the time it takes to stroll from the Castle to the barracks could be plenty enough for such discussion.

I request this and nothing more, I assure His Majesty. I am settling quite well into my position and feel as if everything that has been provided is more than adequate to meet the needs of a new Royal Aide.

May your most gracious Majesty take these matters into due consideration, and may you be inspir'd by the King of Kings to do that which is right in his sight. I wish long life and happiness to your Majesty, and am,

 Your Majesty's most Faithful and obedient Castiel Novak, Former Knight Commander.

 Dean read the letter a few time, digesting and dissecting the words slowly. It was never something he would have expected to read, especially from Castiel of all people. He picked up his quill and a clean piece of parchment: Dearest Aide Novak, Nothing would please me more than to dispel the air between us. I fear that the future will is close together, professionally. If you are able, please meet myself by the main entrance after supper, today. I am positive that the cool air will aide in our civilised discussion. Your ever faithful King, King Dean Winchester. Dean wrote in his elegant cursive handwriting he was forced to learn when he was a child.

Castiel was on his way to the library when the messenger presented him with the letter. He mumbled a quick thank you before breaking the seal and beginning to read the words carefully. He sighed a breath of relief when the words seemed to be accepting rather than patronizing and aggressive. Now all he needed to figure out is what he would wear to inspect the newly promoted men.

That evening, Dean headed out of his chambers, ordering the guard to stay behind. He had a short dagger strapped to his waist and a sword hanging on the other side. He waited by the double front doors, looking around for Castiel.

It didn’t take long for Castiel to appear, dressed in his social formal Alpha clothing from his previous rank. He would have preferred something more fitting but he wasn’t quite comfortable dressing as an Aide without the title, quite yet and the clothing Celeste had made for him was long gone. Regardless he approached the King, giving a low sweeping bow per usual. Though he hid it well enough his own weapons could be made out against the line of his waist and his boots if one looked close enough.

“Your Majesty.” He greeted. “Thank you for the quick response and the opportunity for counsel.”

“Of course.” Dean said softly, as he counted the numerous weapons on his person. “It read that you had something particular to speak about. Is there anything particular on your mind.”

 "Well... Yes. I suppose there is." Cas acknowledged before motioning towards the hall. "Shall we walk?"

Dean nodded and held his arm open, to allow Castiel to go first. “Is there anything I can do to ease your transition? I’ve heard that you’ve enjoyed your session with your elocutionist, so much that you’ve appointed her as your assistant.” Dean hummed softly.

 Castiel nodded and began to walk, keeping his eyes ahaed as he listened. "Yes, in the short amount of time I spoke to her she showed quite a bit of wisdom. I am also not so vain to ignore my weaknesses, the largest being etiquette as you have seen first hand." He admitted. "She actually advised I speak with you about matters at hand."

 Dean opened his arms, “I am all ears, Novak.” He said as he watched Castiel closely. “This is something causing you some distress. Wouldn’t you prefer to do this somewhere, away from any prying eyes and ears?” He offered, wanting Castiel to be comfortable for whatever matter he is about to raise.

 "If I may speak freely, Sire?" He asked carefully, finally glancing at him, looking a bit worried.

 “Of course Novak, this is clearly eating you up inside.” Dean said softly, wanting to reach out and take Castiel’s hand to calm the Omega but knew better than to try it.

 "To be honest, Sire... I was hesitant to be alone with you. Our... record for such things is not very pleasant." He pointed out. "But I hope to rectify that. I believe it is a simple case of misunderstanding. Perhaps we are not seeing things from each other's sides."

 Dean nodded. “May I just say that, what I was giving you, I didn’t see as help to make you more than equals to your Aide counterparts. I can only imagine how hard all this is for you, I merely wanted to help you onto the same footing as the other Aides.” Dean explained. “A lot of them had been training for the position for years, I thought I was helping by giving you the education and privileges that they had acquired over the years.” He explained, his eyes soft and gentle as he looked over to Castiel. “Please forgive my ignorance, Novak.”

 Castiel seemed to soften a bit at that, shoulders seeming slightly less tense than before. “I… Know.” He acknowledged softly. “There is no reason to apologize for that. I realize that you were only trying to help, Dean. I meant no disrespect when I refused everything you were trying to give. I only ask that you see it from my point of view as well… Having these things would help tremendously but at what cost. As an Omega next to the King; you could be accused of favoritism and I would be given privilege. Neither of which we can really afford if we are to accomplish what we are attempting. Every Omega Aide that comes after me would expect the same treatments while the Alpha’s are not receiving it. That cannot be allowed.” He offered as they continued on. “I must learn on my own unfortunately. Though I do want to express my gratitude for your willingness to assist. It is appreciated.” He acknowledged, forcing a small smile towards the man.  

Dean smiled and nodded. “As you wish, though I do hope you’d come to me if you need anything. Anything at all. Especially with something such as Singer. I know you may have thought my actions childish, but when there is a man who has been set in the rules and etiquette and procedures for as long as him, sometimes the only possible way to make him listen is to shout and be loud and break etiquette.” Dean explained, softly. He gave Castiel a soft smile, “how about... a deal, I won’t threaten your family, if you come to me when you need a King’s input?” He offered gently, guessing that Castiel would turn down the offer.

The Omega consider it for a moment, considering his options. “To be honest, Sire. After the night previously… I didn’t expect you would believe me, or care for that matter.” He admitted. “Your reaction was quite the surprise.” He sighed. “I couldn’t exactly run to you and plead when my brother could be harmed for it.” He added before giving another tension draining sigh. “I suppose I can ignore my doubts and approach you when necessary.” He acknowledged. “Someone had suggested that you may be handling your new role… not quite as easily as you let on as well.” He added, turning to eye the man. “Perhaps we should discuss you’re ascension as well? Is there anything I can aide you with? That is why you brought me here afterall, isn’t it?”

Dean smiled softly, as he looked over to Castiel. “All I could ever ask of you is to grow into your role quickly, which I know you’ll do.” He said softly. “But if you are offering, my role is... quite lonely, if you know of anyone that could lead a supportive ear, one who is cleared to hear about aspects of my role, that normal men cannot hear, then I would be grateful if you gave me their names.” Dean said, his voice growing quieter, as he looked around

Cas paused taking a moment to appreciate the evening air as they entered the courtyard just outside the palace. He was thankful that most of the servants were tending to either their families or the supper clean up duties. He turned to face the King. “Your Majesty, I realize that I have come off a bit… aggressively during our first few meetings. I had no intentions of such things. I’ve asked your forgiveness once, though perhaps a bit superficially, so I will ask it again. Please, forgive me. I suppose it is a defense mechanism after posing as an Alpha for so long. I hope to change it though it may take time. That being said, I would be honored to listen to your problems, concerns… opinions as a man, rather than a King. I assure, this time I will not address them so poorly.”

Dean nodded, he tried to keep a calm expression but the relief in his eyes and the tension lifting from his shoulders gave him away. “Thank you Novak, I... it means a lot that you would offered your services.” He said with a genuine smile, aimed at the Omega. “Though, to ask you of this task and not give you something of equal enormity and as personal seems... unfair. I understand you don’t want to be seen as a favourite, but I do hope to return the favour.” Dean explained.

“I am no so sure, Sire.” Castiel countered. “Last time I attempted it my brother was threaten. If I do so again, I suppose I should be so lucky not have a pet or he would be as well.” He added, the only indication that the words were meant as a joke was the small upturn of his mouth and the amusement that shown in his gaze.

“Your brother shall never come into harms away, again. Unless he puts himself there.” Dean said with a small smile. “If you would like a pet to make your room more homely, all I ask is that you don’t get a dog, I fear they don’t like me to well.” Dean explained.

Cas gave a small chuckle at that. “A pet is a lot of responsibility. I think I have my hands full enough with Gabriel.” He replied as they started walking once more; the Omega grateful for the small breeze that allowed the relieved scent he was no doubt exuding to dissipate. His smile faded slightly as he considered the last few weeks, however. “If we are discussing these issues freely, Sire. I hope it is not too much to ask how you are handling your Father’s passing? I know your relationship may not have been the greatest but a father is still a father.”

 It was Dean’s turn to stop walking and looked down to the floor. “This is still too public for me to speak ill of the dead.” He said, his voice small and weak. “Many liked him, and if someone overhears me speaking disrespectfully, I fear it won’t help my reputation much.” Dean sighed. “But thank you for the concern.” He looked up at Castiel, sadness filled his eyes.

 Castiel's brows furrowed, his own gaze saddened as he saw Dean for what he truly was for perhaps the first time: A man who was both confused and saddened by the loss of his father. Castiel wanted to reach for him, to comfort him... which was an odd feeling. "Of course... My apologies, I should have realized the inappropriate location." He acknowledged, feeling guilty while also a but relieved of Dean's subtle reaction. "Perhaps if the inspection goes well, we may have a bit of time to discuss matters more privately?" He offered.

 Dean nodded and looked to the sky to calm him emotions before looking back to Castiel. “Only if you wish to spend the time with me. I do not wish to force you.” He said softly, continuing their walk.

 "I suppose, to find out if you are good to your word... I would have to." He offered. "Since you assured me no more threats on my family." He added. "Eventually, perhaps we will earn one another's trust." He shrugged. "I'd say that's a good start at least."

 Dean nodded. “I do trust you, I just don’t appreciate some of the ways you speak to me.” He explained. “I trust your consul or I wouldn’t have made you an Aide.”

 Castiel chuckled at that. "I suppose you have a great number of reasons to feel that way. I suppose I am not very... charismatic in tone." He admitted with a sigh. "It had gotten me in quite a few arguement with King John, may he rest in peace." He admitted.

 “He can rest.” Dean mumbled. “We’ll work on it together.” He offered. “I’ll learn to understand what you’re trying to say and not become so defensive so easily.” He suggested. “Was there anything else you’d like to speak about? How are you settling into your room?” He asked.

 "Fairly well, all things considered." He admitted, thankful for the change in subject. "Its a bit too lavish for my tastes but I suppose I will get use to it. I would like, with your permission to have some of the furniture removed. I lived a fairly simplistic life until now and I am not quite sure what half of the pieces are meant to do." He admitted a bit embarrassed but the fact.

 “I’m sure your elocutionist can explain and show you. Or if you’d prefer, I can.” Dean offered. “Then you can choose whether you want to keep it or not.”

 "I am certain Eve will be most pleased to give me the full history of each." He mused. "I would not want to take up too much of your time, Sire." He offered. "It is just furniture."

 Dean hummed, “is there anything else you’d like to speak to me about? Anything personal or professional, I don’t mind.” He offered softly. “If you are to listen to my troubles then I’m happy to listen to yours.”

 "Well, perhaps... professional." He admitted. "Eve mentioned it is customary that Omegas sit last at meals such as the one Sunday. She had mentioned you were planning to change this but that it has not happened. I simply wanted to make sure this was the case and it would change?"

 “It is, it’s in motion.” Dean promised. “But my work is backdated four years, and at the moment, I need to deal with the older work first, as well as anything pertaining to my security in the job.” Dean sighed. “I’ll nudge it up the order, so it’ll be passed for the following Sunday.” Dean promised.

 "Of course, Sire. There is no rush. I cannot pretend to know what Omegas have gone through, sitting last for one meal is nothing to complain about comparatively." He offered with a small bow. "Though perhaps, if you allow me to examine some of the precautions you are taking for your own security I can assist in that area? I realize I may not be an Aide yet but my experience allows me some insight in the subject."

 Dean shook his head. “It is the legal side of it all. So no one can claim I ascended illegally. So Sammy can’t force me to abdicate. But thank you for offering Novak, it means a lot that you want to help.” Dean explained. “Plus, I need to find new Aides. My father made them all swear an oath to him rather than the chair. The ones that haven’t retired, are still in the job out of the kindness of their hearts.” Dean sighed. “And the longer I make them wait to retire, the more restless they grow.” He sighed, forgetting himself and his surroundings

 Castiel nodded as he listened, knowing the way to the barracks by heart. “I see.” He mumbled softly. “How many would you prefer to have, Sire?” He asked curiously. “Have you given much thought to your brother?” He added remembering the mention of the younger Winchester when they had first interacted with one another. “If I may, Your Majesty, I still feel as if he would make a wonderful Advisor or Aide. It may not be traditional but… neither is an Omega. Perhaps he would be interested in the position... Though I do realize he has a different profession currently.”

[Beginning] // [Previous] // [Next]

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 3 Chapter 3

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter

Chapter 3

Undyne was right behind him.

Norman ran along the piers in the Waterfall. Energy spears shot up from the ground, never quite hitting him but always getting closer than he wanted them to be.  The floor was splitting below him.

He reached a dead end. Undyne’s footsteps, loud metal clacking on wood, slowed. She knew it was a dead end too.

He turned and saw her take one more step, right where her spears had splintered the wood already. There was a sickening cracking noise as the bridge collapsed. He fell.

“It sounded like it came from over here…Oh! You’ve fallen down, haven’t you? Are you okay? Here, get up…Chara, huh? That’s a nice name. My name is—”

 He was awake before he could hear the last part of that.

It took Norman a minute to regain his bearings. He had landed on a patch of golden flowers, the same kind that were in the Ruins. Above head, he could make out just the faintest rays of the sun. He was still in the Underground.

What was that? It was too vivid to be a dream, he realized, and he did not think he had fallen asleep anyway. It was more like a vision. He did not recall having visions, but for some reason, the idea felt right in his head. If he could see ghosts, anything was possible, he supposed.

There was no point of worrying about it now. If it was a vision, it had not told him enough to make sense of it. Norman picked himself up and continued forward.

There was no better way to describe the things that emerged from the ground: they were zombies. They looked as ever bit grotesque as the art in Norman’s room depicted them; pale green skin that should have rotted, skeletal limbs and organs that should be spilling out.

The FIGHT began.

The Cat ran in-between Frisk and the zombies, hair sticking on ends and a hiss in his throat. He stood ready to pounce at the first sign of conflict. Without thinking about it, Frisk ran a CHECK on the closest one.

????? 80 ATK 80 DEF

He’s been asleep for a long time. It’s not his fault.

The zombie lurched forward, but did not otherwise attack. He would not attack them straight out, Frisk realized.  So they decided to ACT.

*CHECK                          *TALK

*CONSOLE                      *CRITISIZE

*STEAL WIG

Hi! I’m F-R-I-S-K! They signed quickly, ending with a little wave.

The zombies gave her a confused look. Maybe they didn’t understand signing. Frisk reached for their notebook and wrote it down during the zombie’s turn.

The zombie with the wig leaned into it, old eyes struggling to read it. He reached for the notebook and pen.

JUDGE HOPKINS 80 ATK 80 DEF

He’s been asleep for a long time. He did what he had to do.

The place Norman had landed in was a Dump. Most of the garbage had been kept in bins and bags, but quite a bit was flowing through the pond freely. Norman could make out some things that were clearly monster-made, like gloves for six-fingered folk and a jar of construction paper labelled “Temmy Flaeks.” Most of it, however, looked like it came from above; coolers, desktop computers with empty contents, DVD cases with desperate claw marks covering the surface.

Norman was so absorbed in looking for the human-made things that he hardly noticed when the Training Dummy jumped in front of him.

“HAHAHAHA…Too intimidated to fight me, huh!?” said the Dummy. “I am a ghost that lives inside a DUMMY. My cousin used to live inside a dummy, too. Until…YOU CAME ALONG!”

He barely remembered the Dummy, all the way back in the Ruins. Toriel had just told him to talk to it.  It did not even answer back.

“What did I do?” Norman asked.

“When you talked to them, they thought they were in for a nice chat,” Said the Dummy. “But the things you SAID…! Horrible. Shocking! UNBELIEVABLE!”

Norman may not have remembered the Dummy very well, but he knew that all he did was ask him how the weather was before Toriel said that was good enough.

“It spooked them right out of their dummy!  HUMAN! I’ll scare your Soul out of your body!”

Mad Dummy blocks the way.

“Listen, I didn’t mean—“ Norman started.

He stopped as a series of dummy-shaped bullets were fired his way. He jumped out of the way. He jumped back as they spun around like boomerangs and rushed back to him.

“OWWWW, you DUMMIES!! Watch where you’re aiming you MAGIC attacks!” the dummy cried.  “Wait…forget I said that!”

Another set of bullets fired towards him, but Norman easily dodged them and watched them fire back at the Mad Dummy.

“HEY GUYS!” The Mad Dummy shouted as he summoned his next round of bullets. “Dummies. Dummies! DUMMIES! YOU’RE FIRED! YOU’RE ALL BEING REPLACED!!!”

The dummy bullets faded out of existence with sheepish expressions,

“Now you’ll see my real power,” said the Mad Dummy. “Relying on people that aren’t garbage!”

Mechanical whirs filled the room. Norman tried to talk him down again. He didn’t seem much for conversation. Nobody was happy with this.

The next set of bullets appeared, bulkier and boxier than the others. Norman jumped out of the way like the others, only to turn around and find they were still chasing him down. He ran forward, coming face to nuzzle with the Mad Dummy as they lost course and plowed into it.

“DUMMY BOTS! You’re awful???” the Mad Dummy cried.

More missiles were launched towards Norman, and he found himself running in circles. A few more hit the Mad Dummy.

“Who cares. Who cares! WHO CARES!!! I DON’T NEED FRIENDS!”

The dummy bots vanished, and were replaced with a single large bullet.

“I GOT KNIVES!!!”

The knife landed by Norman’s feet.

“I’m…out of knives.”

More bullets filled the field, but not the ones the Mad Dummy used. Most of them faded out before they got close to Norman, instead landing on the Mad Dummy and sizzling.

“Wh-what the heck is this? Acid rain?” said the Mad Dummy. “Oh FORGET IT! I’m outta here!”

The Mad Dummy slipped past Norman and back out into the fields of worthless garbage.

“…sorry, I interrupted you, didn’t I? as soon as I came over, your friend immediately left…oh no, it looked like you guys were having fun…oh no………………………………………………………………………………..”

There was a storm brewing in Blithe’s Hollow. As soon as the sun set and the dead rose, there was a chill in the air. Storm clouds hung in the air, crackling with thunder. Frisk could just make out the shapes that formed as they swirled. But it was not just a storm; that much was obvious. There was a type of pressure on their Soul, the same they usually felt as a Fight started. Something else was going on.

After a long back and forth conversation between two people that could not talk and two games of tic-tac-toe, Frisk understood better. The witch was not buried with the judges. They would have to find her grave, and start from there. Judge Hopkins was the only one, possibly ever, who knew where she was buried, so he led the way.

The town was deathly still. What was once packed with ghosts and people now only held a few cars and bystanders. The only sign that there was still life were the neon signs and traffic lights.

For some reason, that scared the zombies the most.

I know, gas prices have gone too high, Frisk wrote down in the notebook, because it seemed like a smart thing to say.

Jude Hopkins snatched the notebook from them and began writing furiously. He had filled nearly a page when they first heard the screams.

“well…I’m gonna go head home now…” said Napstablook. “oh…feel free to ‘come with’ if you want…but no pressure…”

“I don’t want to impose,” said Norman.

“neither do I…” said Napstablook.

They didn’t seem much for conversation. Nobody was happy with this.

“I live up just this way, in case you want to join me…” said Napstablook. “or, in case, you don’t…”

The neighborhood that sat just above the dump was small. There were only a handful of houses but they were all uniquely shaped. No one house looked the same, and no one house looked like a real house. Even Napstablook’s house was built into its neighbors, forming a perfectly symmetrical image.

The interior was much more what Norman would have expected. There were no chairs, but he remembered how his grandmother liked to phase in and out of furniture and figured most ghosts didn’t invest in things they could not touch. Yet there was a desk with a working computer, a small TV, even a refrigerator. And on the other side of the house were piles and piles of CDs.

“uh…do you wanna…listen to some tunes, or something…?” Napstablook asked.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Reintroduction, Reconciliation and Rebirth

So apparently one of my followers asked me about the whole “Mary Grayson as a Talon” verse I’m working on: “What if Mary gave herself up to the Titans instead going on a revenge streak against the Court of Owls?” 

So then, I answered. 

@lightdusk, this is for you :-)  

Padding through the hallways on her bare feet and looking at the various photographs on their walls, Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson was captivated by the people inside said photographs. Five teenagers, each different looking than the last all smiling and have the time of their lives whenever the camera went off for them. Among-st them where an African American with blue and silver cybernetics attached to him, a green skinned, fanged, pointed eared young man with a smile that can melt the heart of any rough roustabout, a deadpanning young girl having grey skin and an Indian style chakra gem on her forehead with a tiny smile next to the other two. Out of all five of these teens, however, none captured Mary’s attention as the golden/orange skinned red haired girl who was locking lips with her boyfriend…not just any boyfriend though. Said boyfriend with a domino mask covering his eyes and spiky black hair in a red vest and green tights, which was her son Richard, which was her Little Robin growing up and having friends outside of the circus, let alone an alien girlfriend like Starfire and having the time of his life in these photographs.

After examining the photos and their content, Mary continues walking through the halls of this ‘Titans Tower’ and wonders of now how did she arrive here under all places of her life…or rather her afterlife. That’s when the events leading to this moments hit her like a freight train in the middle of running through a dark tunnel in the Rocky Mountains. In other words, they hit her pretty hard. Mary remembers the deal she had made with the Owls and how her life will now be under their control instead of her then seven year old son’s, She remembers her ‘death’ falling from a great height to the sandy floor of the circus grounds below, most likely smashing various bones in her body and leaving a bloody mess for the coroners to clean up, all due to faulty trapeze wires the failed to hold her husband John and herself after the trademark ‘Flight of Death’.

Next came the electric pain that erupted all over her said, awakening her and allowing the electrum to do its job bringing life back into her lungs. Afterwards, the ‘indoctrination’ as the Owls slowly and painfully breaking her mind into submission for their control and to showcase her strength on all levels when faced with death causing conditions not limited to mental instability and various tortures. Then came the part the finally gave her some relief, the part in which she remembers who she was, why she was what they call a Talon in the first place, and how she not only escaped the Owls’ but made contact with The Titans, immediately surrendering to the authorities for multiple charges of first degree murder. On the day she was put into a police van with iron plated handcuffs, local villain Professor Chang tried robbing a Xenothium factory with the first Titans plus police stepping to clean it up in a snap. That was until the gunshots were heard and Chang contacted the rest outside the factory demanding he will go free from this stand off or all Titans will pay dearly. Mary, overhearing of her son and his friends in danger, immediately began slipping out of her cuffs and without boots, utility belt or her signature throwing knives and entered the factory without the police even noticing. About 7 minutes later, all five Titans immediately walked out of the factory with nothing more but a few scratches  while a barely dressed Mary walks out with Chang on her shoulder, thoroughly beaten to  a pulp, before Mary sets him down and extends her hands for the cuffs back.

In that one mission, Robin couldn’t help but ponder on an established fact made here: not only does the substantial amount of evidence point to his mother being alive again along with the fact she was under the mind control of an ancient conspiracy that most likely would’ve taken him hadn’t for his said mother making a deal with them but now even after all that brainwashing, torture at the hands of heartless bastards and years of assassination, she still loves him and the fact she didn’t even consider murdering Chang for threatening him no less proves that there does lie hope that Mary Grayson can be rehabilitated to society. Only thing is, she was not Mary Grayson as far as the police or general public know. Mary Grayson is long gone, being the victim of an ‘accident’ alongside her husband caused by mobsters due to a protection racket gone horribly wrong.  So with that fact, rehabilitating her into society will be…tricky at the least.

Robin was not the only one thinking of that however for his mother was thinking the same thing as well. Though for Mary, as her bare toes scuffled across the tile floor, she was contemplating  on not just the events in the last few days and the fact the Titans’ pledge for keeping an eye on her as ‘their prisoner’ but now on her own steps towards rehabilitating to society outside. What she needed was friends and connections never explored before since it’ll only be a matter of time before the Owls realize their prized Talon is missing from their ranks and start sending their agents after her.

CLANK.

“Aw man, Grass Stain!” Cyborg’s voice erupted across the halls from the Ops Room from which Mary can hear due to her hearing

“Dude, it wasn’t me! Even if it was, how the heck was I supposed to know that plate was slippery?”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t gone octopus like that out of the blue, maybe your hands could’ve had a better grip on it!”

“My hands so have a good grip, both tentacle and finger, I’ll have you know!”

“Yeah well not this time, now we got some porcelain on the ground that anybody can step on and that part of the floor in MY tower is ruined!”

“Yeah well maybe if you weren’t freaking out about Bumblebee coming over for just a simple dinner and not a dang date…!”

“Oh no, BB, You didn’t just say that you little..!”

By the time Cyborg and Beast Boy were preparing to tackle each other to the ground over the filthy state the kitchen was in, Mary by now finishes up cleaning the last plate that wasn’t broken and subtlety taps the two on the shoulders, causing the two to nearly fall over from shock, more so from Mary being right there as opposed to the fact now the kitchen was near spotless and the broken plate was safely removed from the spot it fell onto.

“Ahem, if I may be a bit a bug to you two, I helped out with the kitchen a bit and even started setting up the table for dinner tonight. Just thought I make sure you two have a big huge ‘super’ brawl here and potentially hurting yourselves” Mary says with a soft, motherly smile on her face with tweet of snarky sass in her speech.

Both Beast Boy and Cyborg looked at both her and each other with a sense of realization, they can be such idiots with trying to get their chores done, spending their time at each other’s hair instead of fixing the problem.

So after about half a minute of silence, Beast Boy speaks up,

“Eh, sorry man I lashed out like that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Bros?” Beast Boy raises his hand making a fist for Cyborg to bump.

“Bros.” Cyborg says as he bumps in his own fist into Beast Boy’s.

Mary nods her head in assurance. These two clearly had a strong connection with each other and they clearly had done so much together over the years it was utterly admirable on all levels. These two remind Mary of her husband John and his friendship with their manager Mr. Haley, the way those sometimes can get into shenanigans with each other over the next performance or just hanging out with the rest of circus crew.

After settling that little shouting match, Mary proceeds onward to the rooftops of the Tower, hoping to get a good view of the city her son with his friends protected with dignity and prestige. Such a city it turned out to be though, the bright lights, the calm ocean breeze and the soft crashing of the waves below helped provide an atmosphere of calm and relaxation Mary hadn’t felt since her youthful days in which her family would take the annual road trip to the Black Sea coast in the Ukraine. It was days like that, walking through the beaches with her mother, her father, and eventually the man who became her husband that really speak dearly to Mary. Those were her family and now with that life long gone into the past, she now wonders not really if she can make a new life likes those memories but rather how she can.

Dangling her legs on the edge of the Tower’s rooftops and taking out a small mirror in her sweatpants’ pocket, she looks at the light grey skin color her body now takes in. In a way, this colors means to taunt her very existence as it not only screams ‘you’re technically an undead person not unlike zombies that your husband and his friends can enjoying watching on Halloween night, now you’re a woman who done unspeakable torture to little kids just because your ‘Masters’ didn’t like them talking crap about their cities.’ With that very long bit of depressing news in her mind, Mary spitefully closes her mirror.

“So, you’re enjoying the view out here?” Raven asks as she joins alongside Mary at her right side, her legs crossed and floating from the ground very slightly.

“I do very much” Mary replies before having a more downcast look on her face “but I know for a fact it’ll only be a matter of time before this city and all the people in it will suffer all because of me remember who I am.”

Raven peeks over to see Mary’s distress, “Mrs. Grayson, if anything does happen here, it won’t be your fault. Not now and not ever.”

“What makes you say something like that?” Mary asks with now a bit of questioning going into it. Raven always seems on the more interesting buts of the Titans Mary can see. Her usual gloomy and anti social behavior is as apparent as a tiger hunting for his own prey away from any sort of his own kind. Yet, for some reason, raven has had plenty of hope in her friends, always being around to provide them heavy support on their various missions and usually being the one to knock out an opponent of it wasn’t her son.

Raven pauses a brief ten seconds before gathering her thoughts and explaining herself, “Knowing all the terrible things my Father had me do shortly after my birthday and the prophecy surrounding it, I felt like I was going to hurt my friends, the only people who truly understood besides my own mother. I felt legitimately creepy instead of just different. For that month in my life, I was practically a monster.” She raises her head as the full moon begins shinning on the two “But your son, Robin and my best friend Star, they never gave up on me. Neither did Beast Boy or Cyborg. I would’ve had a fun bet if she were back to normal; Terra would’ve tried to help to. Why’s that? Because I’ve proven to them time and time again. I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t even creepy or different to them. I was their friend and I choose what I did not for my…asshole of a father, but to protect my friends. They saved me with the entire universe and I’m forever grateful for what they gave me in light of all that.”

“What’ll that be?” Mary asks.

“A second chance to make it all up by my actions” Raven replies with a soft smile as she turns to Mary, who now see each other in clear view “I’m sure if the girl who brought about the End of the world itself can get a second at being a good person by Robin, whim I remind you by the way is your son, I’m sure he can let you get that chance too.”

A few hours later, Mary finds herself in bed within the ‘spare bedroom’ that was within the Tower’s newly built Special Lockdown Zone, meant for prisoners that can’t be transferred to high security just yet or most likely for allies that potentially lose control over their actions. She definitely fits into the latter category since by now the bulk of the Titans have seen her composure and motherly nature across the Tower since they took her in. As she was cracking her toes with her hands on bed, Mary had thought of Raven’s words that she was given during their conservation on the rooftop. The thought of her son giving second chances for anything isn’t all that new. When he was younger, the Grayson caught a rat trying to eat their cereal within the family trailer. Rather than calling for it being finished off by John, Richard wanted to instead release it back into the wild far away from human contact where it won’t be pest jus for surviving. So, John takes the captured rat out to the field and does so. The rat never came to the circus grounds ever again, mostly likely living a peaceful life out in the wild. This compassion was always present for Richard from what she can remember and it was showing right now with the way not only they kept her in the Tower under their watchful eye, but the fact her room was on almost exact replica of her old bedroom back at the circus, right down the placement of the Flying Graysons poster hanging over her pillows.

By now the Titans had gone off to bed and it was her turn to do so. With that, Mary shut off the lamp right on her dresser, lays down her head on the pillows and, not even bothering with the blankets provided for her, shuts her eyes.

Unfortunately, her mind was not so kind for her tonight.

As soon as her breathing evened out, Mary began whimpering. Soft whispers of ‘I didn’t mean to’ in Romani poured out of her mouth. Sweat starts pouring down as those whispers started getting slightly louder. Mary then begins tossing back and forth, grabbing tightly to her arms and scrunching her bare toes tightly on the blankets towards the end of the mattress. Finally, Mary starts biting into her pillow rather angrily yet sorrowfully as tears began rolling down her face intensely.

I didn’t mean to! I tried my best to save you! I’m sorry, Little Robin! I’m so sorry…The inner voice Mary cries with anguish and absolute pain at the sight she sees: mounts of bloody bones, organs and all impaled with knives, her knives. These children, their parents, innocent people and numerous others she can’t even fathom, all are gather at her bare feet and slowly getting bigger and bigger until they start losing stability…they start falling unto her…

“Mom?  Mom?!”

With those words spoken, Mary’s eyes snapped open and they dart across her room until settling on a certain black haired, blue eyed young man with said blue eyes looking in worry.

“R-(sob) Richard?”

“Y-Yeah, Mom it’s me. I saw you on the cameras having a nightmare. Are you okay?”

Not even bothering with an answer, Mary grabs her son and pulls him onto her chest while she buries her face onto his shoulder, sobbing her eyes out. Richard can do nothing else but wrap his own arms around his mother and gently rub her back in an effort to calm her.

‘Robin?” a soft female voice says as Robin looks up. On the door to this room was Starfire, dressed in her pink and purple PJs and fuzzy slippers for her own bare feet since said feet are volatile in their ticklishness to anything. Robin, clad in a blue T shirt with black sweatpants and nothing coating his own bare feet, nods in Star’s direction saying

“My Mom just had a nightmare; it’s not too bad but if you like…”

Before Robin can finish that sentence, Starfire goes up to the two Graysons and wraps her arms on Mary’s back, joining her boyfriend effort at calming down her Earth In law.

Eventually their efforts pay off as Mary’s sobs began to calm  and she’s finally able to look at her son and his alien friend with read veined albeit golden eyes.

“S-sorry for that, it was just…very bad and I might’ve overreacted without knowing about it” Mary says as she begins to get her composure slowly back, tuning to her son she says “Mama’s okay right now Little Robin, she can handle the rest of the night.” Mary finished with a tearful soft smile trying to reassure her son.

Richard, of course, doesn’t take this sort of attitude so easily. Rather than going, her allows himself being let go from Mary’s arms but still sits cross legged on her bed.

“Mom, whatever you went through was physically hurting you badly. If this is what you can go through when you’re trying to get some shut eye, you need to someone to talk to about it.”

“Agreed friend” Starfire chirps in “Though friendships and bonds outside of family are rare on my home world, it is quite common for mothers and their warrior children to discuss of night terrors that would’ve plagued them. Robin and I shall wish to aid you of this burden Madam Grayson.”

“Are you sure? Because I think I can take it...” Mary tries pitifully to counter with tears (both regular and bloody) still leaking.

Starfire couldn’t help but slightly giggle ‘Nonsense my friend.”  

The two had a firm but soft smirks on their faces that say ‘You can trust us; we’ve been literal Hell and Back’ and also remembering Raven’s words in which reassure that trust, Mary breathes out

“Alright then, it’ll quite a long story, probably enough that you two will fall asleep before I finish it all the way…” Mary says, not evening finishing before Starfire leaves the two with her slippers next to the bed.

“She’s just getting the spare futons we use whenever we crash in another’s room” Robin says with a toothy grin on his face.

Mary, probably for the first time in a while, chuckles at that statement “Well, lady friends typically tend to do that.”

“Mom?” Robin asks.

“Yes, Richard?”

“Was your dream about…all the stuff you did…while under their control?”

“Well…yes. It—it was horrible.”

“What did you see?”

“Mountains and piles of …bones…children, women, any kind…just their bones piled at my feet and getting bigger. I did all of that. All I wanted was to make sure you didn’t do any of it. But all those lives…I thought you were never going to forgive me for…”

Mary was cut off at that moment for Richard proceeds to wrap his arms around her to prevent another breakdown.

“I get what you’re feeling Mom. I’ve done one or two things I regret that were meant to protect my teacher and my friends. I honestly thought they won’t forgive me for it, but while it took quite a bit…they did, not the ‘took quite a bit’ for my teacher. You gave up everything for me and made I was found by the right hands but you don’t need to punish yourself for it. I’m happy that…I have a mom and two dads in my life. I don’t ever replace you or devalue you just because of what you did.”

“What are you saying, Little Robin?”

“You’re my mama. I forgive you even though we do this to you. Just want to let you know no matter how many bad things you did, you did it for me and I appreciate it, just like what you did for me…before the ‘accident’.”

“So...can you help me? Maybe get a new name or something when I go out soon?” Mary asks with a sad look of curiosity.

Richard look at her with a soft smile “Well yeah, mama. Sure the whole world’s heard of aliens, demonic abominations, super criminals and guys wearing red and blue strongman uniforms  flying around with an S on his chest, but I don’t necessarily think living undead circus acrobats is quite up there yet.”

Mary once again found herself chuckling at her son’s wisecracks

“Well, that’s definitely your father speaking right there.”

“Which dad are we talking about, the acrobat or the Bat?”

More chuckling between the two ensure just as Starfire reenters the rooms, on her shoulders being big pillows, blankets and futons ready for the two of them.

Shortly afterward, all three began settling down for the night, Starfire taking the futon on the floor while Robin, while tempted at first for the second, just straight out fell asleep on his mother’s side with his stuffed elephant Peanut in his arms. Mary looks at the two with much softness and happiness. These two were inseparable and  even if on different beds, they were sticking together  almost every night an everywhere they go, much like how John and her were before Richard’s birth.

So starting tomorrow, they would begin finding the Romani tribe the Lloyds descended from and Mary will become said tribe’s personal bodyguard under a new name. All that was needed was a new ID, a new name, basically all that legal mumbo jumbo that both Cyborg and this so called ‘Batman’ can work on. For now though, with her Little Robin in her arms and sleepiness once again taking a firm grip on her, Mary Lloyd Grayson begins shutting her eyes and slowing down her breathing…

…maybe Devin Grayson can work? Nah, too obvious….

Took me quite a while to finish it but I hope this satisfies your appetite for stories sadly neither of the Big Two are willing to take  instead going for either Bat-worship or ‘Buy our next event comic where heroes will lose or fight each other instead of the bad guys, now every two months.” 

Dedicated to @lightdusk, @nightglider124, @fireflyxrebel, @kryallaorchid and so many others. 

[jojuarez26]

When love isn't enough:It's for the best

Mature content and strong language Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC @pathybo @tigpooh67 @ljvosscmt @beautifulramblingbrains @scorpio2009 @clublulu333 @frecklefaceb @societalfailure @ericdauntless @ariwolff14 @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @glamlover87 @dani5102 @mom2reesie @crystalbaby12 @drowning-in-my-dreams @james-k-delaney @muffinmano @angolodiparadiso @singingpeople Its almost ten and Eric has been gone since a little afternoon. Audrianna is sleeping but I am getting a little worried. If I'm to be honest with myself I am missing him a little bit too. I've just gotten use to him being here. He has snuck out of the dorms and stayed with me every night since I was released from the infirmary. I think my mom knows that I have had a guy here at night but she never says anything about. I think she feels guilty that I am home alone so much. Honestly I am still a little surprised with myself. I never thought I would be comfortable or content spending so much time with Eric. I have come to realize too that when I watch him with his sister and see the compassion and burning desire to protect I feel more drawn to him. He hasn't pressured me not even once to try to do something more than cuddling and occasionally kisses. Around ten thirty I give up and decided to try to get some sleep. I know he has to be back eventually. For one Audrianna is here obviously and for two I noticed he seems to be more well rested since he has been sleeping here. It's helped keep my nightmares at bay as well. I"m running down the hallway as red is chasing me with a knife. I've managed to stay ahead of her for the most part as I grew up here and she has only been here a few weeks. I round the corner to the training room knowing Amar, Eric and Tobias will be in there only to skid to hault. Kendrick is standing there pointing his rifle at me. What?? He's should be at the fence. It's not his week to be here. Also he can't petition for a compound position for three more years. My mom made sure of it. He raises his rifle laughing. "Bye bye bitch" I turn to run the other direction as red stabs me and I yell for Eric. I sit up in bed. Shift it was just a dream. I look down and see him looking at me. He asked if I'm alright. I will be as soon as I lay down next to him. I laid on the floor and curled myself around him. I just want him to hold me. Thats where I feel safe. I can't believe Kendrick was in my dream. Especially shooting at me. I really thought I was past all that, besides he never really blamed me. He blamed my mother and himself. It was his own damn fault and he knew it. Being safely wrapped in Eric's arms I drift quickly back to sleep. I wake up with a start at the feeling of being picked up. My eyes fly open to realize it's Eric putting me back in my bed. It's time for him to go. But first he kneels down beside the bed so he's eye level with me . "Good morning beautiful. I need you to get a few things done for tonight while I"m at training." he slides his points card across the bed to me. "Get the blackest hair dye you can find and some scissors. If you don't have any clothes that will fit her, buy her an outfit. Don't let her out of your house for any reason. PERIOD. I'll be back for lunch, I'll bring enough for all of us" I reached out and put my hand on his cheek. He leaned into at put his hand over mine. "Do you trust me?" I wasn't sure how to answer that. I trusted him to protect me from everyone, except himself. He had already let angry and jealousy get the best of him once. "Yes, " it sounded hesitant to my own ears. I'm sure he didn't by it either. A slight look of hurt flickered in his eyes but it passed quickly. "No you don't. But it's alright. I understand," he had almost a loving look in his eyes. " I have to go. I'll see you for lunch." he placed my hand back on the bed and gave me a soft quick kiss. Then he was gone. It was still really early so I set an alarm for seven and rolled back over. Who would ever thought I would find myself slowly but surly falling for him. I sure didn't. Even though I knew logically it was a terrible idea, I couldn't help myself. I guess I'm not really as smart as I pride myself to be. If I was I would listen to my head, not my heart. The alarm was blaring and Audrianna groaned streching next to me. Neither of us are excited to be awake. "Did Eric ever come back? " she looked around the room nervously. "He did, but it was really late. Then he had to leave early to sneak back to the dorms. He'll be back for lunch." "Does he have a of action yet," she had a scowl on her face that matched Eric's. I couldn't help but laugh. "What!!" she snapped. It just caused me to laugh harder. No denying they are related. "Nothing. You just remind me of your grumpy ass brother," I smiled thinking about how similar they are. Her scowl turned into a smile and she giggled. It amazed me how calm she was all things considered. "He's growing on you isn't?" she couldn't look more pleased if she tried. I bit my lip thinking about it before I answered. As simple as the answer should be, it was hard to put into words. "I really should have no business getting comfortable with him or letting myself develop feelings for him. Ever since I got stabbed and every time I see him with you, all the bad things start to seem irrelevant. It all just seems to melt away." "I know he's a jerk, he's terrible at expressing his feelings, but he really does care about you you know. ALOT. He's never trusted anyone like he trust you either. You make seem...... human again," she had an affectionate sound to her voice. There was that word again. Trust. I felt a small pang of guilt about not being able to feel like I fully trusted him. In all fairness he did choke me, but that felt like another life time ago. "Come on. I'll make us some breakfast. Then start the to do list your brother gave me." I looked sadly at her beautiful, long, silvery blonde hair. "Why are you looking at me like that," she knew she wouldn't like my answer. By ten I was back with the hair dye and scissors. I grabbed her some shoes too. I found a few things shoved in my closet I had out grown. Even though she was nowhere near thrilled about her hair, she understood. I promised to put ponytail holders on the both ends when we settled on a length and keep it for her as a reminder. "Do you know where I'm going or when we are leaving?" I was elbow deep in black hair dye. "Not really. I think Eric will tell us more when he comes for lunch." I think we were both nervous not knowing what the plans were. Audrianna was just as terrified of Jeanine as Eric, actually a little more. I couldn't fathom how awful it must be to be terrified of your own aunt. My uncle was like a father to me. He would never dream of harming me. "I wish I could just stay with you and Eric," her voice quivered when she spoke. "Oh honey! I wish you could too." she was breaking my heart. Why the hell would anyone be so foolish to believe this child was a danger to anyone. Jeanine needs more damn therapy than Eric's psychotic ass. The door opened at noon and Eric sauntered in with three boxes from the mess hall. He sat them on the table and stopped dead in his tracks. He had to do a double take. Audrianna was clad in black from head to toe. Her once waist length silvery blonde hair, now just past her shoulders and midnight black. "Stand up and turn around. Let me see you," he looked impressed. "Leci sweetheart, you did an amazing job. She is unrecognizable. Perfect," he walked across the room and gave me a quick kiss. Then he motioned for us to sit at the table with him to eat. He looked exhausted. Transfers were doing guns and knives today. I'm not sure what the afternoon schedule was. I hadn't gone down in a few days. "So. Leci and I will be eating in the mess around six. We have to keep to a normal schedule. Sorry baby girl but you will have to stay here. After dinner we'll come back. I need you girls to have everything for an overnight packed. I will take and hide the bags out by the tracks around seven." "We'll be sneaking out a side entrance around eleven to catch the train to Amity." Audrianna got a horrified expression on her face. "NO ERIC!! I don't want to stay in Amity! Isn't there a place I can stay in Dauntless." she was close to tears. "Absolutely not. Jeanine has too many eyes and ears here and she brings her ass here way to much. It would be to dangerous for all of us to take that chance," he had a stern tone but a sorrow filled eyes. "I am having your falsified certificate make you two years older. That means you can do your choosing in two years. If I feel it is safe enough to do at that time then you may choose Dauntless." Tears streamed down her face. Eric threw his fork down and put his head in his hands. It broke my heart in two seeing them both so upset. "I'm sorry Audi. Believe me, I don't want to send you anymore than you want to go. It's the only place that fucking bitch won't take her stuck up ass too. It's easy to blend in there, I have a friend who you will be staying with. You'll like her, she's nice," his voice got angrier by the second. I stood up behind him wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. He reached up running his hands up and down my arms trying to calm his breathing. "I have to do what's best for baby girl. This is what's best. I'll try my hardest to come see you every couple weeks. When I get next months points I will buy you a tablet and send it Sonny." He patted my arms so I would move them for him to stand up. He stood in front of his devasted sister and crouched down. He tilted her head up and wiped the tears off her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just cried harder. "I hate her! Can't you just kill her? You would be doing Chicago a favor!" she sobbed. "I wish it was that fucking simple Audi. Believe karma is a bitch. Jeanine will get hers. However that takes alot more planning and people than I have the time or trust right now." "Initiation is almost over. If I can land the career I have my eye on it will put me in a position to travel between Amity and Dauntless freely. I am not throwing you out there to forget about you. I could not and would not do that to you." "I know, " she hiccupped. I wished there was something else to be done. This was going to tear them both apart. I quietly headed to my room to give them some space.

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – A HARSHER FLAME

Vaporous mist arose from every surface of the ice cavern as an atmospheric tide of heat bloomed from the Halcyon Knight. Her seemingly placid gaze lazily slid from one opponent to the next as each of them silently planned an opening gambit.

“Good,” she finally said in a calm voice. “Not a one of you flinched or even took that threat seriously. I’d honestly hate to find out any of you were cowardly without the Flarebearer around.”

They didn’t dare take eyes off the tigress, not even to look at one another for some clue to a joint strike. She moved with confidence, and her narrow golden eyes seemed to drill into each of them as she continued to slowly turn in place.

“Careful now,” she chided. “You really should be paying less attention to my face.”

Hyla was the first to turn her eyes downward just as mystic fires began to dance on the back of the knight’s leg. From there came an explosion of noise and a flash of light as a jet of flame shot from the back of her ankle. The force of the focused burst launched her leg into a sweeping kick that left an infernal wake which quickly raced out in a circle around its creator. As Hyla raised her arms to try and defend herself, she was already off her feet being dragged by her shoulders out of the mouth of the cave.

Confusion quickly fell away as the concentrated wave of mystical fire raced past her eyes. She followed the shimmering crescent as it barely skimmed the back of Gan, who’d grabbed her in an instant and dragged her to safety before she even realized it.

The lightning quick kestrel both grunted and recoiled from the intense heat, forcing them both down into the thankfully soft snow. Hyla quickly shook off the rough landing and turned her notice to Gan, seeing him hurriedly flop onto his back and sigh with relief as the snow made short work of the dangerous heat thereupon.

“Just missed,” he managed to say. “If that hit, we’d’ve been cooked alive…”

When she took a breath to respond, Gan sprang to his feet. “The Captain and Argus are still in there! I couldn’t see if they dodged it or not! Come on!”

“Gan wait!” she called out as he took one bold step forward, slipped on the snow, and firmly introduced his beak to the terrain below.

He said something muffled yet clearly frustrated as Hyla finally got back on her feet. Snow and ash had some commonality, so while it was uncomfortable to spread her toes out onto the frigid mass, it improved her traction just as she’d hoped. “Gan,” she said calmly as she moved to help him stand. “They’re alright; I can still sense them in the cave. Now, there’s no point of us rushing back in there without a plan, so let’s take what time we have to-”

A jagged ice tower to the left of them exploded as a massive cannonball treated it like the finish line of a race. Both quickly turned their eyes toward the oncoming fortress, a rolling disaster headed straight for them and the Aspect of Air beyond.

“Warriors!” Illica’s voice called to them from the mouth of the cave. “I shall help your friends inside; Jinra will assist you in destroying the ship!”

Gan looked to Hyla, “That’s… That’s the dragon’s name, right?”

A roar that was more detonation than animal cry shook the air for miles as the great serpentine beast rose like a geyser of scales and fury from the ice cavern.

“Yes, Gan.” Hyla finally said, finding it slightly harder to breathe at the mere sight of the great beast. “Illica… How exactly do we…” Hyla’s voice trailed off as she turned back toward the strange snow fox, or rather, to where she once stood.

“I think we just follow it,” Gan said, a mixture of awe and fear in his voice as his eyes followed the dragon’s course across the sky toward the approaching warship. He flinched as exploding shells filled the sky with blossoms of fire and noise above them, just missing their massive target. “But uh... Maybe not too close?”

“No,” Hyla said plainly. “Argus said the last one was powered by a big furnace on the inside. So, we go in, destroy the furnace, and that should stop it dead. There’s just one thing we have to do first.”

Gan shimmied uncomfortably, feeling like a coiled spring as he looked away from the firefight to Hyla. When he met her eyes, he flinched ever so slightly.

“Gan,” her voice was calm despite the volume it needed to overcome the explosions above and gusting winds below. “I know I can trust you. Without thinking twice you put yourself in harm’s way to save me just now… But you need to know, you can trust me too.”

She could feel it wash over him, the strange unknown sensation she’d felt as they walked into the cave before. His eyes tried to look past her and his hands clenched into fist for a second or two. She could see him struggle and fumble to say something as an argument took place at the forefront of his mind.

She decided planting the seed of an idea was enough for now; the nascent notion that she’d fight as hard as he would for her. She turned away and faced the task at hand, her mystically aided senses giving her a clear view of the oncoming mechanical danger. A multitude of cannons on the warship’s side pivoted skyward as the dragon above dodged shot after shot. It soon closed the gap and crashed violently against the ship’s prodigious armor to seemingly little effect. With a breath to steady herself and erase the distractions of her surroundings, Hyla dragged open the curtain of the world and forged a Dark Vault.

Now, for anyone else, passing through these inky black portals is an instant event. For those gifted enough to make them however, there is something else. It’s best described as a feeling of a truly greater force far beyond anything they could make sense of, moving about an infinite space that isn’t so much “dark” as it is “full of potential.” Tetsudin would often describe it to her as the moment before you turn on the light in your bedroom, the anticipation of something familiar amidst unfamiliar shadows.

But this time, this time she turned away from the path she’d carved in the endless twilight. Despite all her training and concentration, a radiant force in the immeasurable distance turned her attention toward it. This momentary distraction, this sight of something that demanded it be seen threw her off their landing. What should’ve been an exit onto a well chosen perch amidst the ruined remains of the rear starboard prop’s assembly was, instead, the open air before it.

The momentum of their steps found no floor on the other end of the Dark Vault. Instead, the pair tumbled helplessly through the frigid air before Gan flared out his wings and straightened himself out.

Driven by inborn instinct, he summoned a curtain of ion excited air and bounded off it like a springboard toward the retreating sound of Hyla’s surprised shout. Every Orni’Hulan is born to catch their young should they fall in their efforts to fly, and even at a young age they have the strength and natural skill to do just that. He knew if he simply caught her, whatever limb he grabbed would dislocate. He knew that if he tried to change her momentum too suddenly, both of them would come out with broken bones. He rushed down to match her speed, hooked his legs around her and, with all his might and prowess, put a curve to both their trajectories that just barely saw them skirt the icy ground below.

With some effort to fight the turbulent wind surrounding the rolling fortress, Gan managed to find them a perch lower than they’d originally aimed. He put Hyla down as gently as he could before landing himself and helping her up. “What happened? Why did we miss?”

“There… When we were crossing I felt this… I don’t know what it was but it was massive…” She closed her eyes and tried to visualize it, to put forth more than just an oncoming rush of sensation to describe whatever it was she’d seen, but nothing took shape. A sigh rolled out of her throat. “This probably isn’t helping our little trust issue, is it?”

When she looked to Gan again, the great mess of feathers on the top his head rose as did the strange mixture of emotions and thoughts she’d tried to ignore. She did her best to give him a smile to try and calm him down, “It’s alright, we just-”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you!” He shouted, and then clamped his beak shut. She could hear him grumble and the talons on his toes rake the metal flooring beneath them. Finally he screwed his eyes shut and continued at the same volume. “I do trust you! Really! I just…” he quieted himself as the next words came. “Argus said I shouldn’t apologize… That I should just show you I’m sorry, but… I… I really wanted to say it, that I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

A genuine smile crossed her face and she rested her hand on his shoulder. To her it’d been nothing more than a few sour looks and an air of somewhat overdone caution, both absolutely minor slights she could easily understand. To the young kestrel just entering into the wider world, it felt like some incredible insult to a friend. What else could she have said but, “Apology accepted.”

Gan’s spirits and shoulders rose in time with one another and the shine of confidence in his eyes sparkled without reservation.

“Now, let’s see if we can’t take the heart out of this metal monster.”

“Right!” Gan looked around at the ruined structure the Prominence Cannon had left for them to traverse, hoping to see something that looked like a way in. The damaged metal ahead of him exploded outward as a forked black blade tore a hole through it. The imposing mass of a hulking Black Rock Knight soon followed, wrenching through the metal hull as if it were little more than thick paper.

Gan may have had the reflexes to dodge the stone titan’s sudden emergence, but nowhere near enough to put his knives between an oncoming sword swipe and Hyla. With Storm Magic aiding his perception, he could only watch as the deadly blade closed in on her while she crossed her arms over her chest. He stared on in stark surprise as it passed through her without a drop of blood and rammed into the ruined support strut just off to her side.

And yet, despite the acceleration of his sight, he blinked only once and saw that, in that partial second where his eyes closed, Hyla and the offending knight had changed places. The boost in speed ebbed away and a line appeared in the stony figure’s midsection where Hyla had once been.

The slowed tone of her voice reached his ears with a single magically intoned word, “Imposition.”

When it tried to turn, the upper body of the Black Rock Knight slid right off. It tumbled downward, leaving its legs alone on the platform. They took a few blind steps, collided with some previously melted beam, and fell down after its better half.

Before he could even find the words to question the events that unfolded, Hyla spoke. “I don’t like that it knew exactly where we were. Come on, let’s go before more of them can pin us in.”

Gan shook off any lingering curiosity and nodded, quickly making his way through the torn opening. Hyla moved to follow, turning back toward the ice cavern where she could still sense signs of Argus and Blackeye. Thankful for that much, she didn’t think to question why she couldn’t suss out any sense of Illica.

---

Moments ago, Blackeye had barely managed to command the ice at his side to rush across the open air as water and block the oncoming burst of compressed mystic fire. Just past the resulting steam he caught sight of Gan’s tail feathers rushing out the cave’s opening. He did his best not to let the satisfaction he felt at the boy’s performance show on his face. Pride in the doings of the young came so easily with old age.

“You’re right to feel proud, Captain Cofresi. For such a young flyer, he’s certainly got talent. My ‘Drake Smile’ is quite hard to dodge.”

He couldn’t help the annoyed grunt at the even keeled speech of the Halcyon Knight standing before him. He didn’t need the empathic sense Fire Mages possessed to know it wasn’t a statement fueled by brash overconfidence.

She carefully adjusted her gauntlets as she spoke. “You should also feel proud yourself… It can’t be easy for such a seasoned fellow to forcefully turn ice back into water in less than a second. I can see why Vizier Bulfo finds you the second biggest threat of this little band of heroes.”

“I suppose we’re to presume the first is Wally then?” Argus said; the stock of the Thunderhead firmly braced to his shoulder, its flared barrel pointed squarely at the tigress.

“Don’t engage, Mister Cael.” Blackeye cautioned. “You might not know it from our friendly Flarebearer, but thems with fire like to chatter so’s to get in your head. Makes dealin’ with ‘em some pretty nasty business.”

“He’s right, you know,” she added smoothly.

Argus’ eyes narrowed. “I’ve fought my fair share of Fire Mages during the war, Captain. I can assure you, she won’t find me an easy mark.”

“Ooh, I do believe you offended your friend, Captain Cofresi…” Her smile was far too cheerful to be believed. “You did hear that bitter little undertone there, right?”

Blackeye was as still as a stony shoreline at low tide, he didn’t even blink.

She turned to Argus instead, and found him the equivalent of a notched arrow, ready to strike down prey.

“My,” she said with a slight giggle, scratching the back of one of her ears. “I might have picked the wrong dance partners.”

The first thing was the smell in the air. Past the stale smell of old ice, the brightstone in Argus’ weapon, and the subtle hint of char all Fire Mages bore. Blackeye’s mind called up the image of a paraffin lamp, and the lingering bittersweet smell as one replaces its fuel. Before a word could be spoken, and his vaunted sense of danger could warn him, the air around their bodies was filled pinpricks of free-floating light, each barely half an inch away.

“There now, those should even things out, and give us time to properly chat!” The tigress smiled brightly. “My name is Pan Diar, the Halcyon Knight of Fire. It’s a pleasure to make both your acquaintances.”

Blackeye huffed out his nostrils.

Argus rolled his eyes.

She sighed. “My but you two are as stoic as they come… I really would’ve been better off with that Orni’Hulan and Hyla Areo. Now she’d be fun to talk to, especially after finding out what happened to her old master.” She shrugged casually, “but that’s not the bed I made, so why complain about not getting to sleep in it. Instead, I’ll just get right to it and ask. Do either of you know where I could find the Aspect of Air?”

“S'pose it don’t do us any good to try and lie to a Fire Mage, eh Argus?” Blackeye commented.

“Quite so, captain. Shall you do the honors, or will I?”

“Well, you’re the scholarly fella here; she’d believe you over me.”

“Tut-tut, captain. You’re a proud and practiced explorer of the sea; your experience makes you the better choice.”

One of Pan’s ears twitched. “Well, it’s obvious to anyone with a brain you’re both stalling… But neither one of you can seem to agree on what you’re stalling fo-”

And then the Dragon roared.

Its mighty cry coupled with the shifting of its massive body created a maelstrom within the cave. The tiny dots of fire were blown away like so many embers, followed by both their master and would be victims. The three tumbled down a winding tunnel of glacial blue, before landing in a cave of glimmering crystals. Blackeye recognized the particularly luminous stones as the same kind he’d used to light his home. He would much rather have had that be a nice recollection, instead of a passing thought when his shoulder bashed through a particularly large one.

Argus barely managed to kick off another large crystal himself, instead rising too close to its sharp edged siblings in the cave’s ceiling. They tore bits of his clothes and scratched at his carapace, but worst of all cut a small gash in his ammunition bag. Several ampoules of his magical cultivations set to twirl in the air and leave his field of view before the winds died down, and he was harshly dropped into a patch of small glowing mushrooms.

“Mycena Cryphagia,” Argus groaned as he picked himself up. “The Crystal-Eater Mushroom. I should remember to collect a sample before I go.”

He turned to take in the surroundings of this new underground chamber to see Pan Diar, as a true credit to her genus, had landed squarely on her feet. Her fang filled smile was as unwelcome sight, as were the glimmering dots of light under her command. The flock of sparks quickly closed the gap between them. With no other choice, Argus leveled the Thunderhead and fired whatever was in the barrel with the singular mental imperative of defense. A sheet of ionized air blossomed from the barrel like a cast net, the small dots of light sticking to it readily.

Pan Diar’s mystically intoned voice carried easily across the crystalline cavern, “Wisp Swarm.”

The lights detonated.

The electrical net shattered.

The blast wave hit Argus full on, launching him helplessly toward a far wall. The air in his lungs harshly pushed out on impact, and his shaken senses turned the world into a painful smear all around him. He shook his head to try and clear away at least a fraction of the blur, silently grateful to have been born an Insicai; with a hardy exoskeleton that could take so much force and not give way. He knew however, that one more burst like that, even at a distance, would cause far more permanent damage.

He was also grateful for another gift of his biology, as his antenna twitched and felt the air move around what could only be an approaching Halcyon Knight. She said something he couldn’t hear over the muffled ringing in his head, prepared a witty remark regardless, and found something odd happened as he began to say it.

It was an unnatural sort of cold that moved around him at first, then for a singular moment felt as if it’d passed through him. Suddenly the wall at his back was simply gone and replaced by a strong hand with webbed fingers, keeping him from falling backward.

“-er Ca-”

A voice just barely rose above the bell resounding in his head, it sounded familiar.

“-On Mister Cael, ne… you to find your feet.”

He blinked, the voice was gruff yet not unwelcome. The world finally came back into focus and at his side stood Captain Blackeye. “Wh-… What… When did you…”

“Get your eyes front now that ya uncrossed ‘em. That’ll tell you.”

Argus could finally make out the razor focus of the Captain’s expression and followed the length of his gaze over to where he assumed he’d been standing just before now. Before him, the Halcyon Knight of Fire launched volley after volley of magical conflagrations at a seemingly amorphous fog. Amidst the concentration of otherworldly condensation he could just make out the slimmest view of Illica, the snow fox they’d met earlier before the knight attacked.

Now that he thought on it, he had no memory of her dodging the opening attack, or tumbling down the tunnel with them.

“Now this is entirely unfair!” Pan Diar shouted. “Why can’t I hit you?!”

“Why?” Illica teased, her approach toward the knight entirely unhindered. “I thought Fire Mages always had an answer to everything.”

The tigress shouted in frustration, fires beneath her feet exploding and launching her through the air. She fired off fireballs the entire way, each simply slipping by their target and splashing pointlessly against the cave floor. It didn’t make any sense, no magic she knew of could make someone so seemingly untouchable. Worst of all, her natural empathic gift felt nothing from this approaching oddity, while every other sense she had screamed, ‘Don’t let it touch you.’

She landed, then quickly sprang back to keep distance between the snow fox and herself. She forced the words Illica had spoken to grow louder in her mind, ‘fire mages had an answer to everything.’ The stripes in Pan’s fur made the furrow of her brow all the more prominent, a frustrated growl boiled up from her throat before she closed her eyes and stood up straight, the end of her tail impatiently tapping against the floor. “You know what? You’re right. I ignored it because it seemed kind of a silly idea at first, but seeing how this is turning out? It must be the best answer!”

Two winding serpents of flame slowly twisted their way from her shoulder and over the surface of her arm. Slowly, she held it up and pointed her flat palm toward the ceiling. The magical fires slid up toward her open hand and pooled there, creating a beacon of blazing light.

Blackeye smirked and whispered, “Now’s our chance, Cael. I know exactly what she’s about to do. You still able to lift that cannon of yours?”

Argus thumbed the hammer and turned the barrel of The Thunderhead, “Absolutely.”

The air around them began to bake and the light in Diar’s palm surged, her voice calling forth a familiar spell in a foreign voice, “DRAGON’S CALDERA!” She slammed the ethereal flames down against the floor of the cavern, creating an infernal tsunami in every direction around her.

The captain brought his harpoon down in the motion of a sweeping strike, a deluge of water forming a small barrier around himself and Argus. “NOW ARGUS, HOP ON!” Before the grasshopper could respond, Blackeye thrust his harpoon forward and called out, “SLIPSTREAM!” From the end of his bejeweled weapon a rushing bridge of water began to race toward the offending Halcyon Knight.

Without another thought, Argus sprang onto the water and raced along its length. As he lined up his shot, he could hear Blackeye strain and feel the watery path falter. He didn’t dare look back; he couldn’t miss this chance. Just as the aquatic construct beneath his feet began to fade away, he leapt for all he was worth, his momentum carrying him well past his target. Still in motion, he flipped over in the air; his legs extended for both balance and to cease his turn.

His antenna recoiled at the intense heat below them.

He held his breath to slow his heart and steady his aim.

Seconds turned into an infinity as a single opportunity presented itself.

Pan Diar barely turned in time to see the Thunderhead unleash its power, a massive hand made of clay, exploding out of its flared barrel. The earthen magic broke her concentration instantly and the fire below evaporated as Argus tucked his head and let the top of his shoulders roll onto the ground, followed by the rest of him. Not his tidiest landing, but certainly not a deadly one.

Picking himself up slowly, Argus saw Illica float down into view on a small cushion of fog, and Captain Blackeye moving closer, rubbing his shoulder.

“Damn,” he spoke with some stiffness. “That landing hurt me more than I thought, sorry about that, Mister Cael.”

Argus tried to stand up straight and present himself with propriety, and then very painfully curled in on the sudden throbbing ache in his torso. “Suppose… We’re both worse for wear… Captain.”

Both warriors quickly levied their weapons at the collapsed Knight as she loudly growled and set fire to her bindings. The clay baked and hardened around her body, turning an admittedly lovely shade of earthenware red.

Pan’s fire died down and she sighed, “I hate pottery…”

A few moments passed and Illica saw Argus and Blackeye share a curious glance before going back to watching the downed knight. “Are the two of you waiting for something?”

“Aye,” Blackeye said without looking up. “Usually these youngins pull a little vanishin’ act when they can’t fight no more.”

“What say you dear,” Argus cut in. “Has your tiresome toad of a leader finally abandoned one of you to the cause?”

The tigress was still for a few seconds before squirming under her rigid confines. “Nope,” her voice returned to a seemingly ineffable calm. “I’m just not done yet.”

Blackeye scoffed, “Darlin’ if you think for one second you’re gettin’ past the three of us to the Aspect, you got another thing comin’.”

“Very true, I’d never get past all three of you. In fact, with your experience and abilities, I’m completely outmatched. Also, since Vizier Bulfo hates sending out too many of us at a time, I can’t expect reinforcement. But see, I figured something out.” She squirmed around a bit more, managing to turn her gaze toward Illica. “You… You’re not really here… That’s why I couldn’t hit you or feel you even while you’re standing right in front of me. So I got to thinking, ‘If I can see you but not touch or sense you, what are you?’”

Pan Diar’s fist exploded through the baked clay, a Mobius Glass firmly clutched within. “You’re the wind.”

Argus tore the ground beneath his feet as he jumped toward Illica to push her out of the way, only to pass right through her and tumble to the ground. He could only watch as the entirety of her being became a narrow band of vapor, inhaled by the small magical artifact.

Blackeye thrust his harpoon as hard as he could, shattering through the hardened clay, just grazing the tigress as a Dark Vault opened beneath her.

Once she’d vanished, a victorious little titter from her hung in the air far longer than either of them would’ve liked.

Then something else came, something gradual but not beyond notice. The air felt wrong as they breathed, not thin, but still missing something they knew it should have needed.

Blackeye sighed. “Old Poda did tell us there’s more’n one way for’em to get what they need.”

Argus felt heavy as he stood back up. He looked to the half destroyed clay hand and said, “I never would’ve guessed it could take the shape of a person…”

“That’s the way of the world, Mister Cael. Always throwin’ you a rogue wave or a sudden squall.” There was a solid moment of loud rumbling above them. “And we ain’t in calm waters just yet.”

He made a small noise in agreement before looking around and seeing one of his small magic ampoules in the distance. “You go on ahead, Captain. I need to find my cultures; some of them fell out of my bag on our way down here.”

Blackeye nodded firmly then made his way toward the exit.

As Argus did his best to suppress feelings of dismay and failure for later review, he walked over to the small glass vial and tried focusing instead on feelings of pride that his glasswork held up as well as he’d hoped. Then he saw something just beyond it that made all of that go away.

The softly glowing patch of flowers, thriving in a place with no natural sunlight, would be enough to give him pause on their own. But what they’d grown around, what they came to cradle in the course of time, was clearly a very old skull. One that made Argus wish he was less observant, and less able to identify species and genus from bone structure alone.

The weight of emotion on his heart brought him down to one knee. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, recalling a soft prayer he’d heard once in his travels. Whatever Illica had been, a willful ghost or the power of a god using the visage of a dead traveler to defend itself, he knew in his heart she most assuredly deserved better.

He scooped up the vial, straightened himself as best he could, and let these revelations become fuel to the fire of his resolve.

<[Chapter 36]–[Index]–[Chapter 38]>