#the other one has so many holes in the basin that it can’t be used for baths

[beazt]

I wonder if there’s any way I can get my Medicaid to cover a shower chair :/ or if there’s any local resources that would donate me one. Unlikely but I should explore it. I’m sick of taking a shower so short I don’t even get to clean myself as well as I’d like and still coming out of it feeling like im dying and exhausted for the rest of the day/night

[masonkohler]

The Storm Breaks

Months had gone by without incident. It was something like a year since I’d come back from the Shadowlands and tried to settle back into regular life. The house had come up, the people had gathered, I’d made a place for the folks out in Westfall who had no one else. Even the fugitive, Rickhard Foster, had settled in, lurking in the shadows and keeping to himself.

Rickhard Foster, murderer. Father. Fugitive. Terrified, guilt-ridden man. It was easy to dig yourself into a hole and not be able to see the way out.

At least, things had been fine until today, I thought to myself. Across the table in my little farmhouse in my little corner of Westfall was another guest. Unlike the last one, he wasn’t any wild-eyed drifted dressed in rags. This one wore blue leathers emblazoned with the lion of Stormwind, daggers resting on his hips.

And elsewhere, I reckoned. An SI:7 agent wouldn’t leave home without a few hidden blades, or worse.

“You sure I can’t offer you anything? A drink, some lunch maybe? Out here, it’s not usual to sit at a man’s table and get nothing from him.” I waited, knowing the answer full well already, but really, I just wanted to hear him say it, get a gauge on the man.

“Nothing, thank you, Mr. Kohler. I am not here for hospitality, though I fear we got off on the wrong foot when my men and I came by a while back.”

I remembered that day well enough. Guards came poking around, under this very fellow’s watch.

“Well, we’ve got the chance to remedy that now, don’t we, sir?” I smiled, even if I didn’t think it touched my eyes. Truth be told, I couldn’t remember the last time a smile had. In between my own work on the homestead, the folks hanging around needed me for all sorts of things.

“Yes. We do,” he replied, “Mr. Kohler. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Agent Hayes. And I am here to follow up on a lead.”

I tried to avoid tensing, but I’m sure Mr. Hayes picked up on that. First strike against me.

“We have been pursuing the wanted murderer, Rickhard Foster, for some time, as you are already aware. An anonymous tip has led us to you. A man matching his description was seen here last week,” the agent said, but I could tell he was taking in every detail of my home. He especially lingered on Stan’brekar, the Giantslayer’s sword. That seemed to intrigue him, but he didn’t say a word on it, thank goodness.

I stood, saying nothing while the chair scraped across the floor, and went to the stove. I could use some tea. Hayes continued.

“Would you mind if we took a look around the property, just to be sure? I trust that you would have let us know had you seen anything suspicious, but one can’t be too cautious with dangerous men like him.”

A fire in the oven, water in the pot, scooped up from the basin. I kept my back to him so he wouldn’t see my face. My jaw hurt from clenching. I’d expected the other shoe to drop sooner or later, but hadn’t thought much of what I’d do when it happened.

“You would say something, wouldn’t you, Mr. Kohler?”

He was goading me. He knew. Oh, of course he knew. How many of my people, the ones I’d taken in, helped build shelter, create a better life for themselves out of the elements, brought food and goods for from the city, how many were eyes and ears for SI:7?

A tendril or two of steam was coming up off the pot when I turned back to him and offered a truly - might be talking myself up here, but I thought it was good acting - beatific shrug and a shake of the head, “I haven’t seen anyone like him, sir. I’ve worked with a couple of SI:7 folks in the past, always been loyal to the crown and all that. You can look me up, check the file.”

“Ah, yes. Your file. I have, Mr. Kohler, and that is the troubling part.”

A knot in my stomach. Something was wrong. I realized too late over the bubbling of the pot that it had gotten quiet outside. Normally I could hear some of the homesteaders chatting in the yard.

“Born in Westfall, right in this very house, so they say. Apprenticed to the smith in Moonbrook, reappeared with your family in Elwynn after the Defias uprising. Funny thing is, that smith of yours was found to be a Defias sympathizer himself.”

I couldn’t help it. I narrowed my eyes, “What are you getting at? I also served in the Westfall Brigade with distinction. I bled for the Alliance in Northrend. I mended arms in Pandaria. I-”

“You spent most of your years a mercenary, or a paramilitary contractor. Not working for the crown, unless you and I have very different definitions.” He was enjoying himself, I thought, like a cat pawing at a mouse before it lunged for the kill.

“The Silver Dragoons served the Alliance. You can’t rightly say they didn’t, Agent. Or that I didn’t. That I don’t. What else would you call taking care of the folks here, who no one else is stepping up to help?” A barb I maybe didn’t need to throw, but words, once spoken, fly irrevocably.

“Mr. Kohler, you served the Dragoons until the aftermath of the Broken Shore. At which point, strangely enough, I seem to have found a bit of a snag in your record. Or rather, a record of its own.” He eyed me curiously, not maliciously, I noticed, but he knew still who I was hiding here. He knew what he’d need to do in the end.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. The yard was still far too quiet. Where had everyone gone?

“You are dead, Mr. Kohler. Missing in action on an ill-fated scouting mission. Or at least, someone thought so, until you showed up again here, years later, claiming your family’s land.”

My eyes went wide. Couldn’t help that either. That wasn’t what I’d expected. So that explained the curiosity.

“Imagine my surprise when I found a dead man harboring a wanted murderer. Wouldn’t you give anything to talk to him? Find out why, and how, he did it all?” Hayes smiled, sharklike, but almost like an excited child at the same time. Was that his game here?

The water had begun to boil.

“I assure you, Agent, if anyone had told me I was dead, I would’ve corrected the record on that. As for the rest of your accusation...” I began to speak, starting slowly, like I was taking a stroll, towards where Stan’brekar was hanging. If he left me no other way out...

He waved a hand, a dagger blooming in it as if from thin air, “Stay where you are, Mr. Kohler. You have historic ties to at least one known member of the Defias, fabricated your own death, and harbor enemies of the crown right beneath the authorities’ noses. Whatever else you have done cannot outweight your guilt.” I barely even saw him stand, he slid out of his seat like a shadow, “Mason Kohler. I am placing you under arrest for aiding and abetting known murderer and traitor to the Kingdom of Stormwind, Rickhard Foster. Your homestead is surrounded, and all civilians have been evacuated while we’ve spoken.”

The silence. All except the furious bubbling of the pot, the water sloshing almost over the edge.

Stan’brekar was within arms’ reach, even if my feet felt bolted to the floor.

“You have no evidence of any of these claims, Agent.”

“Except Mr. Foster in chains, that is,” he continued. He could have been discussing the weather, “He was found and delivered to us by a concerned citizen last night. We’ve only one loose end.”

“I see.” I tried not to betray myself, the anger, the fear, the fury bordering on hatred, but the words were spat out of my mouth. He’d warned me that they were watching their own people, looking for a reason to poke around, dig deeper. I didn’t want to believe it, but here it was, plain as day, laid out right in front of me.

The top of the stove hissed as the water boiled over. I barely noticed. My thoughts raced with possibilities. Ways today could play out. I could end up just another footnote in an SI:7 case, or a runaway myself, a wanted criminal. What would happen to my family in Elwynn, I wondered? Tainted by association?

“I suppose you’ll be hauling me back to the Stockades, then?” I raised my hands in the air, showing them empty. One quick step to the side, though, and I could have Stan’brekar in an instant.

Agent Hayes nodded, “If you come peacefully, it will be easier for both of us, Mr. Kohler.” One dagger slipped out of sight in some sleight of hand as he unhooked a pair of shackles from his belt.

“Make me a promise, Agent. I go peacefully, you make sure folks can still use this place to rest. Make sure the good doesn’t go away.” I didn’t care if he took me in. Not anymore. If I were being honest, it was almost a relief. The pressure, the expectations, all of it, gone in an instant.

The way his eyes flickered away, the way he didn’t respond for a moment, the way he only hefted the cuffs in his hand filled my stomach with dread. When he did speak, it was almost too smooth a reply, “They will be properly cared for, Mr. Kohler.”

“How?” I could feel my voice going cold, my feet rooted to the floor, my hands trembling overhead.

“The crown does not abandon its loyal subjects. They will be cared for.”

“How?” I repeated myself, “They weren’t before they came here. To me. Because the crown was failing them.”

He approached, grasping my wrist and clapping the shackle shut, then reached for the other. He did not speak. I got the sense there was guilt behind his mask.

“Where are they?” I knew I should keep myself collected, especially now, in reach of his daggers, but the silence from outside was deafening.

He looked me in the eyes, then. Right into them. And answered as he clicked the other shackle into place, “Those who cooperated have been relocated. Defias sympathizers, like yourself, have been taken into custody.”

The water hissed as it struck the hot surface of the stove. The silence outside drowned it out. The pounding of blood in my ears roared over it all. I’d kept those folks warm, fed, a roof over their heads. Safe.

And they were just more pawns for the crown to move. Another crowd to exploit. More children of Westfall to shove around. What good could one man do against that? What good had I even done? It had to end.

The crack of my head hitting Hayes’ nose was, in a sick way, satisfying. The way he fell back, stunned, blood running down his face, shouting for his men, but muffled by the hand covering his mouth. The way the iron chain between by wrists creaked and strained to hold on while I wrenched my shackles free, the metal softening with flames, whisper under my breath calling to them. The way lightning arced behind Stan’brekar when I swung it off the wall.

The door of my home, my refuge in the ruins of Westfall, burst from its hinges, armed and armored guards tromping in, shields up and swords drawn. I knew some of their faces behind those helmets. Right then, I didn’t care.

I swung the blade with one hand, and a storm swept before me, shattering the table, the chairs, everything in its way, all the old wood I’d tried to make into something new.

All the tin soldiers scattered, shouting and cursing, even while Hayes lunged, bloodsoaked hands gripping his daggers, “You will regret-”

He couldn’t finish. I felt the tip of his dagger bite my skin, but my hand was already around his throat, lifting him from the floor. Startled, the blades fell from his hands, clattering onto the wood. He hadn’t expected this after seeing my display with the sword.

Always keep adversaries on their toes, I say.

“I probably will. But so will you. Don’t follow me, Hayes. The folks you have in chains? They won’t be much longer. And you’re gonna let them be.”

Without daggers in his hand, he still managed to glare them at me. I had to improvise, throw a little poetry his way, make him *believe* he’d regret jumping to conclusions.

“Let them be, let me be, or you’ll spend the rest of your days wondering if every storm cloud might be coming for you, or every flicker of flame in the lantern is mine.” It was working, even if just a little, a trickle of sweat on the agent’s temple.

I threw the man to the floor, keeping my anger in check, but with enough force to give him pause, make him think I wasn’t, “Now, I’m gonna walk away. And so are you, agent.” Groans from the stunned soldiers amid the wreckage of what had, for such a short time, been my home again, “Don’t do anything stupid to risk that, y’hear?”

I pulled the water off the heat, grabbed my satchel, and stepped over the guards blocking my way out.

It wasn’t until my home was fading out of sight behind me - again, and again, and again - that I let the tears out.

[snehagoogle]

It is not known

It is not known whether oxygen and methane are lost in the red planet due to one process or some other reason

But we are going to live in the red planet for the time being

Carbon dioxide has to be brought to equilibrium somehow

Apart from organic oxidation or biological oxidation, there is a possibility of some other process which can cause climate change

Earth first had an acid era due to volcanic eruptions many times

And ice ages were also formed many times

After that there was an ocean era

Then carbon dioxide came to equilibrium and oxygen has increased to 22 percent till today

Is there any reason for volcanic eruptions on Mars from time to time

Perhaps Martian volcanic activity has ended permanently. However, it's also possible that we are simply seeing Mars at a geologically quiet moment, and activity may resume any time. Volcanic activity begins when a planet's internal heat causes a body of rock to become molten.

Volcanic Activity on Mars Upends Red Planet Assumptions

Scientific American

https://www.scientificamerican.com › article › volcanic-...

5 Jan 2023 — A mass of moving material on Mars called a mantle plume may be causing marsquakes and volcanism.

NASA (.gov)

https://www.nasa.gov › solar-system › nasa-confirms-th...

15 Sept 2021

NASA Confirms Thousands of Massive, Ancient Volcanic Eruptions on Mars

Scientists found evidence that a region of northern Mars called Arabia Terra experienced thousands of “super eruptions,” the biggest volcanic eruptions known, over a 500-million-year period.

Some volcanoes can produce eruptions so powerful they release oceans of dust and toxic gases into the air, blocking out sunlight and changing a planet’s climate for decades. By studying the topography and mineral composition of a portion of the Arabia Terra region in northern Mars, scientists recently found evidence for thousands of such eruptions, or “super eruptions,” which are the most violent volcanic explosions known.

Spewing water vapor, carbon dioxide, and sulfur dioxide into the air, these explosions tore through the Martian surface over a 500-million-year period about 4 billion years ago. Scientists reported this estimate in a paper published in the journal Geophysical Research Letters in July 2021.

“Each one of these eruptions would have had a significant climate impact — maybe the released gas made the atmosphere thicker or blocked the Sun and made the atmosphere colder,” said Patrick Whelley, a geologist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, who led the Arabia Terra analysis. “Modelers of the Martian climate will have some work to do to try to understand the impact of the volcanoes.”

After blasting the equivalent of 400 million Olympic-size swimming pools of molten rock and gas through the surface and spreading a thick blanket of ash up to thousands of miles from the eruption site, a volcano of this magnitude collapses into a giant hole called a “caldera.” Calderas, which also exist on Earth, can be dozens of miles wide. Seven calderas in Arabia Terra were the first giveaways that the region may once have hosted volcanoes capable of super eruptions. 

Once thought to be depressions left by asteroid impacts to the Martian surface billions of years ago, scientists first proposed in a 2013 study that these basins were volcanic calderas. They noticed that they weren’t perfectly round like craters, and they had some signs of collapse, such as very deep floors and benches of rock near the walls.

“We read that paper and were interested in following up, but instead of looking for volcanoes themselves, we looked for the ash, because you can’t hide that evidence,” Whelley said.

Whelley and his colleagues got the idea to look for evidence of ash after meeting Alexandra Matiella Novak, a volcanologist at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory in Laurel, Maryland. Matiella Novak already had been using data from NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter to find ash elsewhere on Mars, so she partnered with Whelley and his team to look specifically in Arabia Terra.

The team’s analysis followed up on the work of other scientists who earlier suggested that the minerals on the surface of Arabia Terra were volcanic in origin. Another research group, upon learning that the Arabia Terra basins could be calderas, had calculated where ash from possible super eruptions in that region would have settled: traveling downwind, to the East, it would thin out away from the center of the volcanoes, or in this case, what’s left of them: the calderas.

“So we picked it up at that point and said, ‘OK, well these are minerals that are associated with altered volcanic ash, which has already been documented, so now we’re going to look at how the minerals are distributed to see if they follow the pattern we would expect to see from super eruptions,” Matiella Novak said.

The team used images from MRO’s Compact Reconnaissance Imaging Spectrometer for Mars to identify the minerals in the surface. Looking in the walls of canyons and craters from hundreds to thousands of miles from the calderas, where the ash would have been carried by wind, they identified volcanic minerals turned to clay by water, including montmorillonite, imogolite, and allophane. Then, using images from MRO cameras, the team made three-dimensional topographic maps of Arabia Terra. By laying the mineral data over the topographic maps of the canyons and craters analyzed, the researchers could see in the mineral-rich deposits that the layers of ash were very well preserved — instead of getting jumbled by winds and water, the ash was layered in the same way it would have been when it was fresh.

“That’s when I realized this isn’t a fluke, this is a real signal,” said Jacob Richardson, a geologist at NASA Goddard who worked with Whelley and Novak. “We’re actually seeing what was predicted and that was the most exciting moment for me.”

The same scientists who originally identified the calderas in 2013 also calculated how much material would have exploded from the volcanoes, based on the volume of each caldera. This information allowed Whelley and his colleagues to calculate the number of eruptions needed to produce the thickness of ash they found. It turned out there were thousands of eruptions, Whelley said.

One remaining question is how a planet can have only one type of volcano littering a region. On Earth volcanoes capable of super eruptions — the most recent erupted 76,000 years ago in Sumatra, Indonesia — are dispersed around the globe and exist in the same areas as other volcano types. Mars, too, has many other types of volcanoes, including the biggest volcano in the solar system called Olympus Mons. Olympus Mons is 100 times larger by volume than Earth’s largest volcano of Mauna Loa in Hawaii, and is known as a “shield volcano,” which drains lava down a gently sloping mountain. Arabia Terra so far has the only evidence of explosive volcanoes on Mars.

It’s possible that super-eruptive volcanoes were concentrated in regions on Earth but have been eroded physically and chemically or moved around the globe as continents shifted due to plate tectonics. These types of explosive volcanoes also could exist in regions of Jupiter’s moon Io or could have been clustered on Venus. Whatever the case may be, Richardson hopes Arabia Terra will teach scientists something new about geological processes that help shape planets and moons.

“People are going to read our paper and go, ‘How? How could Mars do that? How can such a tiny planet melt enough rock to power thousands of super eruptions in one location?’” he said. “I hope these questions bring about a lot of other research.

For more information about volcanoes in the solar system, check out: How Earth Volcanoes Offer a Window into the Evolution of Life and the Solar System.

By Lonnie Shekhtman

NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center, Greenbelt, Md.

Well, whether there is volcanic eruption on Mars or not

whether lava eruption is ever seen or not

I am very interested in Mars

I wish our family was the family of Mars

Friends, I have written a lot about organic oxidation

Whether it will be necessary for the future or not, you think about it

Till now allow me to start my next program Mission Organism article

Translate Hindi

लाल ग्रह में ऑक्सीजन और मीथेन किसी एक प्रकृया द्वारा गूम होता है या कोई और कारण यह तो पता नहीं

मगर काल लाल ग्रह में रहने वाले है हम

किसी भी तरह कार्बन डाइऑक्साइड को समता में लाना है

यह ऑर्गेनिक ऑक्सीडेशन या कार्बनिक ऑक्सीकरन या जैविक ऑक्सीकरन अलावा कोई और ऐसी प्रकृया होने का संभावना है जिससे क्लाइमेट चेंज बन सकता है

धरती में पहले एसिड यूग बना कई दफे ज्वालामुखी का विस्फोट के कारण

और आइस एज भी बना कई दफे

उसके बाद हुआ था महासागर वाला यूग

फिर कार्बन डाइऑक्साइड समता में आया और ऑक्सीजन 22 प्रतिशत तक दखल कर लिया आज तक

क्या मंगल ग्रह में ज्वालामुखी का विस्फोट होने के कोई कारण बनता है वक्त वक्त पर

शायद मंगल ग्रह पर ज्वालामुखी गतिविधि हमेशा के लिए खत्म हो गई है। हालाँकि, यह भी संभव है कि हम मंगल ग्रह को भूगर्भीय रूप से शांत क्षण में देख रहे हों, और गतिविधि कभी भी फिर से शुरू हो सकती है। ज्वालामुखी गतिविधि तब शुरू होती है जब किसी ग्रह की आंतरिक गर्मी के कारण चट्टान का पिंड पिघल जाता है।

मंगल ग्रह पर ज्वालामुखी गतिविधि ने लाल ग्रह की धारणाओं को झकझोर दिया

साइंटिफिक अमेरिकन

https://www.scientificamerican.com › लेख › ज्वालामुखी-...

5 जनवरी 2023 — मंगल ग्रह पर गतिशील पदार्थ का एक समूह जिसे मेंटल प्लम कहा जाता है, मंगल भूकंप और ज्वालामुखी का कारण बन सकता है।

नासा (.gov)

https://www.nasa.gov › solar-system › nasa-confirms-th...

15 सितंबर 2021

नासा ने मंगल ग्रह पर हज़ारों बड़े, प्राचीन ज्वालामुखी विस्फोटों की पुष्टि की

वैज्ञानिकों को इस बात के प्रमाण मिले हैं कि अरबिया टेरा नामक उत्तरी मंगल के एक क्षेत्र में 500 मिलियन वर्ष की अवधि में हज़ारों “सुपर विस्फोट” हुए, जो अब तक ज्ञात सबसे बड़े ज्वालामुखी विस्फोट हैं।

कुछ ज्वालामुखी इतने शक्तिशाली विस्फोट कर सकते हैं कि वे हवा में धूल और जहरीली गैसों के महासागरों को छोड़ देते हैं, जिससे सूरज की रोशनी अवरुद्ध हो जाती है और दशकों तक ग्रह की जलवायु बदल जाती है। उत्तरी मंगल में अरबिया टेरा क्षेत्र के एक हिस्से की स्थलाकृति और खनिज संरचना का अध्ययन करके, वैज्ञानिकों ने हाल ही में हज़ारों ऐसे विस्फोटों, या “सुपर विस्फोटों” के प्रमाण पाए हैं, जो अब तक ज्ञात सबसे हिंसक ज्वालामुखी विस्फोट हैं।

वायु में जल वाष्प, कार्बन डाइऑक्साइड और सल्फर डाइऑक्साइड को उगलते हुए, ये विस्फोट लगभग 4 बिलियन वर्ष पहले 500 मिलियन वर्ष की अवधि में मंगल ग्रह की सतह से होकर गुज़रे थे। वैज्ञानिकों ने जुलाई 2021 में जियोफिजिकल रिसर्च लेटर्स नामक पत्रिका में प्रकाशित एक शोधपत्र में इस अनुमान की जानकारी दी। मैरीलैंड के ग्रीनबेल्ट में नासा के गोडार्ड स्पेस फ़्लाइट सेंटर के भूविज्ञानी पैट्रिक वेली ने कहा, "इनमें से प्रत्येक विस्फोट का जलवायु पर महत्वपूर्ण प्रभाव पड़ा होगा - शायद निकलने वाली गैस ने वायुमंडल को मोटा बना दिया हो या सूर्य को अवरुद्ध कर दिया हो और वायुमंडल को ठंडा कर दिया हो।" उन्होंने अरबिया टेरा विश्लेषण का नेतृत्व किया। "मंगल ग्रह की जलवायु के मॉडल बनाने वालों को ज्वालामुखियों के प्रभाव को समझने के लिए कुछ काम करना होगा।"

सतह के माध्यम से पिघली हुई चट्टान और गैस के 400 मिलियन ओलंपिक आकार के स्विमिंग पूल के बराबर विस्फोट करने और विस्फोट स्थल से हजारों मील दूर तक राख की एक मोटी चादर फैलाने के बाद, इस परिमाण का एक ज्वालामुखी एक विशाल छेद में ढह जाता है जिसे "कैल्डेरा" कहा जाता है। पृथ्वी पर मौजूद कैल्डेरा, दर्जनों मील चौड़े हो सकते हैं। अरबिया टेरा में सात कैल्डेरा इस बात के पहले संकेत थे कि इस क्षेत्र में कभी सुपर विस्फोट करने में सक्षम ज्वालामुखी हो सकते हैं। कभी माना जाता था कि अरबों साल पहले मंगल की सतह पर क्षुद्रग्रहों के प्रभाव से बने गड्ढे थे, वैज्ञानिकों ने पहली बार 2013 के एक अध्ययन में प्रस्तावित किया था कि ये बेसिन ज्वालामुखी कैल्डेरा थे। उन्होंने देखा कि वे क्रेटरों की तरह पूरी तरह गोल नहीं थे, और उनमें ढहने के कुछ संकेत थे, जैसे कि बहुत गहरे फर्श और दीवारों के पास चट्टान की बेंच। "हमने वह पेपर पढ़ा और आगे की जांच करने में रुचि रखते थे, लेकिन ज्वालामुखियों की तलाश करने के बजाय, हमने राख की तलाश की, क्योंकि आप उस सबूत को छिपा नहीं सकते," व्हेली ने कहा। वेली और उनके सहकर्मियों को मैरीलैंड के लॉरेल में जॉन्स हॉपकिन्स एप्लाइड फिजिक्स लेबोरेटरी में ज्वालामुखी विज्ञानी एलेक्जेंड्रा मटिएला नोवाक से मिलने के बाद राख के सबूतों की तलाश करने का विचार आया। मटिएला नोवाक पहले से ही मंगल ग्रह पर कहीं और राख खोजने के लिए नासा के मार्स रिकॉनिसेंस ऑर्बिटर से डेटा का उपयोग कर रही थीं, इसलिए उन्होंने वेली और उनकी टीम के साथ मिलकर अरबिया टेरा में विशेष रूप से खोज की। टीम के विश्लेषण ने अन्य वैज्ञानिकों के काम का अनुसरण किया जिन्होंने पहले सुझाव दिया था कि अरबिया टेरा की सतह पर खनिज मूल रूप से ज्वालामुखी थे। एक अन्य शोध समूह ने, यह जानने के बाद कि अरबिया टेरा बेसिन कैल्डेरा हो सकते हैं, ने गणना की थी कि उस क्षेत्र में संभावित सुपर विस्फोटों से राख कहाँ जमा हुई होगी: नीचे की ओर, पूर्व की ओर यात्रा करते हुए, यह ज्वालामुखियों के केंद्र से दूर पतली हो जाएगी, या इस मामले में, उनमें से जो कुछ बचा है: कैल्डेरा। "इसलिए हमने उस बिंदु पर इसे उठाया और कहा, 'ठीक है, ये ऐसे खनिज हैं जो परिवर्तित ज्वालामुखीय राख से जुड़े हैं, जिन्हें पहले ही प्रलेखित किया जा चुका है, इसलिए अब हम यह देखने जा रहे हैं कि खनिजों का वितरण कैसे होता है, यह देखने के लिए कि क्या वे उस पैटर्न का पालन करते हैं जिसकी हम सुपर विस्फोटों से अपेक्षा करते हैं," मटिएला नोवाक ने कहा।

टीम ने सतह पर खनिजों की पहचान करने के लिए मंगल ग्रह के लिए MRO के कॉम्पैक्ट रीकॉनिसेंस इमेजिंग स्पेक्ट्रोमीटर से छवियों का उपयोग किया। कैलडेरा से सैकड़ों से हजारों मील दूर घाटियों और क्रेटरों की दीवारों में देखते हुए, जहां राख हवा द्वारा ले जाई गई होगी, उन्होंने पानी से मिट्टी में बदल गए ज्वालामुखी खनिजों की पहचान की, जिसमें मोंटमोरिलोनाइट, इमोगोलाइट और एलोफेन शामिल हैं। फिर, MRO कैमरों से छवियों का उपयोग करते हुए, टीम ने अरबिया टेरा के त्रि-आयामी स्थलाकृतिक मानचित्र बनाए। विश्लेषण किए गए घाटियों और क्रेटरों के स्थलाकृतिक मानचित्रों पर खनिज डेटा डालकर, शोधकर्ता खनिज युक्त जमा में देख सकते थे कि राख की परतें बहुत अच्छी तरह से संरक्षित थीं - हवाओं और पानी से उलझने के बजाय, राख उसी तरह से परतदार थी "हम वास्तव में वही देख रहे हैं जिसकी भविष्यवाणी की गई थी और यह मेरे लिए सबसे रोमांचक क्षण था।" 2013 में मूल रूप से काल्डेरा की पहचान करने वाले उन्हीं वैज्ञानिकों ने यह भी गणना की कि प्रत्येक काल्डेरा के आयतन के आधार पर ज्वालामुखियों से कितनी सामग्री फटी होगी। इस जानकारी ने व्हेली और उनके सहयोगियों को राख की मोटाई उत्पन्न करने के लिए आवश्यक विस्फोटों की संख्या की गणना करने में सक्षम बनाया। व्हेली ने कहा कि यह पता चला कि हजारों विस्फोट हुए थे। एक शेष प्रश्न यह है कि किसी ग्रह पर एक क्षेत्र में केवल एक ही प्रकार का ज्वालामुखी कैसे हो सकता है। पृथ्वी पर सुपर विस्फोट करने में सक्षम ज्वालामुखी - सबसे हालिया विस्फोट 76,000 साल पहले सुमात्रा, इंडोनेशिया में हुआ था - दुनिया भर में फैले हुए हैं और अन्य ज्वालामुखी प्रकारों के समान क्षेत्रों में मौजूद हैं। मंगल ग्रह पर भी कई अन्य प्रकार के ज्वालामुखी हैं, जिनमें सौर मंडल का सबसे बड़ा ज्वालामुखी ओलंपस मॉन्स भी शामिल है। ओलंपस मॉन्स, हवाई में पृथ्वी के सबसे बड़े ज्वालामुखी मौना लोआ से आयतन के हिसाब से 100 गुना बड़ा है, और इसे "शील्ड ज्वालामुखी" के रूप में जाना जाता है, जो एक हल्के ढलान वाले पहाड़ से लावा को बहाता है। अरबिया टेरा में अब तक मंगल ग्रह पर विस्फोटक ज्वालामुखियों का एकमात्र सबूत है।

यह संभव है कि सुपर-विस्फोटक ज्वालामुखी पृथ्वी के क्षेत्रों में केंद्रित थे, लेकिन भौतिक और रासायनिक रूप से नष्ट हो गए या प्लेट टेक्टोनिक्स के कारण महाद्वीपों के स्थानांतरित होने के कारण दुनिया भर में चले गए। इस प्रकार के विस्फोटक ज्वालामुखी बृहस्पति के चंद्रमा आयो के क्षेत्रों में भी मौजूद हो सकते हैं या शुक्र पर एकत्रित हो सकते हैं। जो भी मामला हो, रिचर्डसन को उम्मीद है कि अरबिया टेरा वैज्ञानिकों को भूवैज्ञानिक प्रक्रियाओं के बारे में कुछ नया सिखाएगा जो ग्रहों और चंद्रमाओं को आकार देने में मदद करते हैं।

"लोग हमारे पेपर को पढ़कर कहेंगे, 'कैसे? मंगल ऐसा कैसे कर सकता है? इतना छोटा ग्रह एक स्थान पर हजारों सुपर विस्फोटों को शक्ति देने के लिए पर्याप्त चट्टान कैसे पिघला सकता है?'" उन्होंने कहा। "मुझे उम्मीद है कि ये सवाल बहुत सारे अन्य शोध लाएंगे।

सौर मंडल में ज्वालामुखियों के बारे में अधिक जानकारी के लिए, देखें: पृथ्वी के ज्वालामुखी किस तरह जीवन और सौर मंडल के विकास की झलक दिखाते हैं।

लोनी शेखटमैन द्वारा

नासा का गोडार्ड स्पेस फ़्लाइट सेंटर, ग्रीनबेल्ट, मैरीलैंड।

खैर मंगल ग्रह में ज्वालामुखी का विस्फोट हो या न हो

लावा की उत्खेपन कभी दिखे या न दिखे

मेरे को मंगल ग्रह में बहुत इंटरेष्ट है

काश हमारी परिवार मंगल ग्रह की परिवार होता

दोस्तों कार्बनिक ऑक्सीकरन के बारे में मैं काफी कुछ लिखा हूँ

आनेवाा कल के लिए यह जरूरी होगा या नहीं यह आप सोचिए

तबतक के लिए मुझें इजाजत दीजिए हमरा अगला कारिक्रम मिशन ऑर्गेनिज्म लेख शुरू कने के लिए

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T+ for blood, language, nudity, and horny

Warnings: Implied pain/blood kink

Summary: Local vampire tries to give her human soulmate a bath, but the human is feral and loving it. Then it gets a lil horny, to both of their frustration.

Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

2: Bloodbath, Baby!

“I take it you changed your mind about the clothes? Or am I supposed to use these towels like a makeshift toga?” You asked, glancing around the bathroom, eying the ornate tub with mild interest. This certainly wasn’t where you had expected Cassandra to take you, especially not when she had somewhat promised you garments to wear. There were no pants or shirts (or even dresses) in sight, just a rack of the softest looking towels you had ever seen. It was admittedly difficult for you to resist the urge to use one to wipe the blood off of your shoulder. However, you figured that it would be best to save that for after you were given a good behavior prize. After all, it was much more fun to be a bastard if your “victim” (not that Cassandra really counted as that) knew how polite you were capable of being, and you were, under normal circumstances, very polite. Most of the time. Maybe.

“What did I say about talking?” Cassandra snapped at you, glaring at you from her perch on the counter. She was sitting on the edge, waiting for something, occasionally eying the room’s entrance.

“You told me to shut up for ‘five minutes’. It’s been eight, at the very least! I’ve been holding back, just for you, babe,” you replied, smirking as you did. For a moment your soulmate seems to consider chucking a bar of soap at your head. Eventually she thinks better of it, opting to roll her eyes at you instead. “For the record, I did count, just to be sure. Wouldn’t have wanted to make any assumptions about the passage of time, considering how fast time seems to fly when I’m with a loved one.” Unfortunately, this does not get a rise out of Cassandra, who has shifted to face away from you. Not yet willing to give up your buffoonery (and assuming that you would not, in fact, be getting a good behavior prize anytime soon), you released a loud, exaggerated sigh, before switching tactics.

Standing up with the blanket still curled around yourself, you maneuver over to the tub, eagerly climbing inside. With how large it was, laying down was fairly easy, though you weren’t entirely flat. Wanting to be as comfortable as possible, you adjust yourself and the blanket until it covers you, while letting one end go behind your head like a pillow. It’s nowhere near as nice as you had hoped. On the plus side, however, is the attention it gets from Cassandra. Before long she’s standing adjacent to the tub, staring down with an expression of exasperation.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She asked.

“Napping, obviously. Care to join me?” You answered, without hesitation. Then you gently pat the blanket, as if offering to let her sit on top of you. This only serves to make her angrier. Now she’s leaning over the basin, bracing one hand against it, her other hand reaching to grab your throat and pull you towards her. The two of you are so close that you can’t help but blush, and the feeling of her skin against yours is weirdly attractive. “I should have known you were the kinky type. Not that I mind,” you murmured, gaze wandering a little farther south than her lips. Before you know it she’s shoved you back down and let go of you. She shakes her hand a bit, like she’s just touched something gross, but you see the pink rising on her cheeks. As much as you want to tease her, the sound of approaching footsteps takes priority. Soon the door is opening, revealing a stressed servant, a pile of clothes in her arms. Suddenly you’re glad that Cassandra pushed you away, considering you don’t think she would have enjoyed having someone walk in on the two of you in that position.

“Lady Cassandra, I have what you requested. Would you like me to draw a bath for you? Or-” she pauses when she sees you, clearly unsure of what to make of your behavior. Hell, she almost drops what she’s carrying, and makes a soft ‘oh’ sound. Presumably dying inside, Cassandra quickly takes the bundle from her. Then she stands between the two of you, blocking line of sight, looking as tense as could be.

“Just get back to work, and don’t mention this to anyone,” she growled, gesturing towards the door. As soon as the maiden closes it behind her, Cassandra is turning back to you. “Get rid of that stupid fucking blanket or I’m forcing you to wear wet socks.” Understandably, you start giggling at her request, hardly able to believe that she had really just said those words out loud. “Would you prefer I cut up the soles of your feet? I’ll heal long before you do, asshole.” Now that makes you pause, trying to figure out whether or not her threat held up. Even though everyone had a basic understanding of how blood bonds worked (the less romantic, and more historic, way to refer to soulmates), the specifics were confusing for most people, including yourself. Would your aching wounds bother her? Or only the initial injury?... Somehow you had a feeling you’d figure out the answer within the next few days.

Until then, you decide to err on the side of caution, for once in your life. Still, you roll your eyes before you pull the blanket up and out of the tub. Again you spot a faint rosy tint on Cassandra’s face, and her gaze most definitely lingers on places other than your eyes. In the end you have to bite your lower lip to stop yourself from calling her out on it. Gotta get some clothes first, you think, then back to being a dick. Holding back only gets harder from there.

Wordlessly, Cassandra takes a seat by the front of the tub, where your feet are propped up on the edge. Giving you a judgemental look, she pushes them aside so she can reach the controls knobs easier. You give an exaggerated pout in response, only for her to ignore you completely, trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. It was in stark contrast to how she had looked at you a mere half an hour earlier. There were several interesting things to note about her behavior, and you found yourself almost excited to figure out the puzzle she presented. Did she care about you now? Simply because of your blood bond? Did she have a genuine soft spot for romance?... Those sorts of questions were all you could think about, even as Cassandra turned the handles, letting cold water splash into the tub.

“I’d say ‘fuck you’ but honestly, were I in your position I would likely do the same,” you said, shivering a little. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, staring at you like you were stupid, before turning the handle a bit more. Eventually you figure out what she meant by it. “What, you guys don’t have a quality water heater? This is Romania for fuck’s sake. I would have figured the water would be a hell of a lot hotter by now,” you added, only for her to splash some still very much cold water on your face. “Is this fun for you? Are you enjoying this? God, I hope you assholes have Legos somewhere in this maniac menagerie, so I can step on them while you sleep.”

“Do you always spit in the face of kindness?” Cassandra asked, moving towards the other end of the tub as she spoke. Once more you laugh, though this time it’s much more of a hollow sound, and your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “My sister wanted to kill you, but I pulled your pathetic corpse out of the basement, now I’m letting you use my bath, and you’re mocking me. This is why I don’t bother with this shit,” she growled, even as she wets a washcloth and starts dabbing at your wounds. On one hand you understand her frustration… but on the other you couldn’t get the image of her past victims out of your head.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be clean than not,” you started to say, pausing to think for a moment. Then you reach out, putting your hand over Cassandra’s, making her freeze in place. It’s soft enough of a touch to surprise her. Which is why it’s so easy for you to snatch the towel from her hands. “You ‘don’t bother’ with this ‘shit’ because you’re a fucking sadist, who thinks all humans are beneath you, who acts like she has every right to bleed innocent people dry, who thinks she’s God’s gift to this goddamn hellhole we call Earth. Do you think this makes up for your sins? Do you-” her nails dig into your arm and she grits her teeth in pain- “think that I can forget listening to the screams of your victims? Whose graves is this castle built upon? Whose fucking bones am I standing on? Who died to keep you alive? How many other versions of me have you killed, in other timelines, in other lives, where the universe didn’t demand that we be together? I’ve seen your heart, girl, and it’s as raw as they come.”

There’s a brief second of intense, furious eye contact. Then a flash of movement, a rush of pain, tears filling the corner of your eyes. Blood pours from the new hole in your shoulder, but Cassandra is quick to lick it up. She’s groaning in between each run of her tongue across your skin, clearly feeling it every bit that you were, yet she shows no signs of stopping. If anything, her pain seems to spur her on harder. Even you can’t help but blush a little as you struggle beneath her grip. Why did vampires have to use their mouths? Why couldn’t they get blood transfusions, like the rest of society? This way, your pleasure mixes with your misery, leaving you confused, and the fact that you’re still naked is not at all helping.

“Oh fuck off, please,” you gasped, trying to push her off of you. To your surprise, she does as asked, pulling away after one last lick. When you turn to look at her, you see your blood covering her lips and dripping down her chin. “You’re a mess, Cassie. Hot water?” With that you return her favor from earlier, splashing some of the (finally above room temperature) water in her direction. Most of it misses her. A few drops, however, do manage to hit their mark. Then she’s wiping her face on her sleeve, scowling the whole time. There’s still plenty of blood on her face afterwards, but it’s nothing compared to what’s gathering on your shoulder. She eyes the wound, nostrils flaring briefly, a predator dying for one more bite. “If you bite me again, I swear to whoever that one lady y’all worship is, I will bite you. My teeth aren’t made for that shit, but I don’t care. We’ll both be miserable and that’s it, baby! That’s love! I’m threatening you with an unhealthy perception of affection, dipshit!”

This time you expect her to move away, or hit you, or do anything other than what she does. Calling your bluff, she moves around the ever-filling tub, pausing to turn the water off, before hiking the edges of her dress up and… oh. Oh. Somehow she’s in the tub with you now, legs on either side of your waist, presenting the side of her neck to you with a knowing smirk. But you are not known for your cleverness. Nor your ability to make good decisions, at that. Perhaps your blood loss was starting to affect your cognition. Whatever made you so feral, so beautifully unhinged, you embraced it with utter glee. Soon enough your teeth find themselves on Cassandra’s throat, digging in enough for you to feel your blood bond reacting. For a moment she stiffens in response. Then she relaxes, even takes in a rush of air that sounds oddly content, leaning into your touch. What the fuck? You think, almost shocked enough to let go. Almost.

“What’s the matter, pet? I thought you wanted me to know what it felt like on the other side of things?” Cassandra teased, voice quiet and low. Something about her tone sends a familiar, although unwanted, feeling to your core. Still, her words egg you on, and you find yourself biting harder, tugging at the skin a little. More tears gather in your eyes, but you fight through the pain as best as you can. You drag your teeth across her skin, wishing for sharper canines, before letting go to inspect your work. There’s a clear outline where your mouth had been, but not a single drop of blood. Frustrated, you go back in for seconds, choosing a different spot to target. Again you go through the motions, only for no crimson to stain your lips. This cycle repeats several more times, with you running your tongue along her neck in between bites, so focused that you don’t realize that she’s grinding against you until she stops.

“I need to file my teeth,” you mused, trying to forget about what you had just done. Now that it’s over, Cassandra seems to feel the same, and she quickly climbs back out of the tub. She’s refusing to meet your gaze, instead focusing on arranging the clothes the servant had brought earlier. By the time she’s facing you again her blush is almost entirely gone.

“Finish cleaning up, then bandage yourself and get dressed. I’ll have a maiden wait outside to bring you back to my room. Don’t even think about trying to run,” Cassandra said sternly. You’re too distracted by the thought of what happened to give her any snarky response. So she simply nods to herself, then leaves, slamming the door behind her. Though you had expected to be relieved by her absence, you find yourself groaning, holding your head in your hands. Why is she so attractive? This is probably illegal, you think, in at least several countries. Or it should be, at least. Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing to distract you from the price of her attention, with your shoulder and neck aching horribly. Cleaning up was going to hurt even worse. Still, you think, at least I’ll have some time to think of new insults. With that in mind, you begin to wash away the blood, thoughts entirely consumed by your newest ‘partner’.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

I love bully shiggy, but i love shiggy angst more, so could you write some bully shiggy angst where reader goes to live somewere else or just...dies or something? I need the bully to suffer of a broken heart hehehehe thank you!

your wish is my command. TW: death, violence, slight mentions of past noncon and past dubcon, angst, drugs

Most, if not all throughout his life, Shigaraki has always gotten what he wanted. Rich parents helped. His absurd talent for computer science helped, and when his parents were being especially annoying and threatening to cut him off-well thank god his crypto is going to the moon.

No, he couldn't say he was happy. But he wasn't sad either. Objectively, he knew he had a good life. Happiness is foreign to him, but thrills aren't. Mindless enjoyment isn't. He smokes skinny Korean cigarettes, snorts cocaine off glass tables, places acid tabs under his tongue, and fucks girls when he's high, sober, coming up, or coming down.

You were happy though. You were the kind of girl to be very grateful to live, the kind of girl who walked through life like the sun was shining on her, the kind of girl he hated and wanted to crush under his thumb.

No, that's a lie. He's never hated you. He could never hate his favorite toy no matter how many times she misbehaves.

So when you fucking died, of course, he didn’t believe it. Not at first. Not fucking possible. Not until he saw your fucking body, all twisted into grotesque angles because you were trying to save a stupid kid who was on the road when he shouldn’t have been. Fuck, out of everyone, at least you deserved a peaceful death.

And it’s so like you to throw yourself into oncoming traffic, trying to save other people. Always other people. The complete and utter opposite of him. He wasn’t even aware he had a heart, the metaphorical one that felt emotions because his real beating heart was a jumbled-up mess of pounding and vessels.

But all that adrenaline is gone now and there’s a hole where his heart is. A you-shaped absence imprinted on his body and mind. He was already so so numb but the flashes of feelings, the memories hurt. He smells your perfume in the scent of wildflowers and it drives him insane.

His drug habit had gotten exponentially worse. Days and nights blurred into frenzied chaos. How could he sleep when your voice on discord wasn’t the last thing he could hear before shutting his eyes? The cocaine has probably burned off the inside of his nose, and acid flashbacks wouldn’t be so bad if the patterns didn’t spell out your name.

How dare you leave him alone? How dare you? You were supposed to die whenever he dies. Your existence was meant to be alongside his.

His last straw is when he finally shows up to school and everyone looks at him with eyes of sympathy. It doesn't click until a reassuring hand is over his shoulder, “It’s okay, Shigaraki. We know you were good friends.”

He can’t stop laughing. Laughing and laughing until his jaw is going to unhinge itself. Everyone looks uncomfortable, perplexed by the sudden onslaught of never-ending laughter. A know-it-all voice chirps in the background, “...normal traumatic response.”

He excuses himself to the bathroom much to the relief of his classmates because they were not used to a manic Shigaraki, the boy who was usually cold and aloof. He grips the porcelain sink, laughing. He wonders why there are water drops falling into the basin. He wonders why he’s crying. And once the first few drops fall, the dam breaks. He’s sobbing.

How brain dead does everyone have to be to think you guys were friends. Yeah, Shigaraki was a great friend to you as he forced you to jerk him off. He was a great friend when he threatened revenge porn if you didn’t break up with your doofus boyfriend. And he definitely was a great friend, when he stumbled into your house high as balls, fully knowing you’d be alone that night and fucked you until you bled on your sheets. Victory tasted like your virginity on his dick that seemed like it would never soften.

Was everyone that blind to what you were going through? How much he hurt you? He wondered what you’d say if you here right now. You’d probably laugh too, wouldn’t you? Laughed until you cried and couldn’t stop crying.

Dabi and Hawks tried. They did. But they weren’t friends who sat around talking about their respective traumas despite being well too aware of how fucked up each other’s home lives were. But Shigaraki’s grief was different. Dabi tried to put himself in his blue-haired friend’s shoes. If Natsuo or Fuyumi died, he probably wouldn’t take it so well either. Still, he couldn’t fathom why Shigaraki would be so sad over some pussy, however tight it may be. Hawks especially could not understand, girls being replaceable him too like model cars—infinitely less valuable of course. The golden-haired boy had no frame of reference, but he did crash his Audi R8 which was his favorite car. Maybe that’s what Shigaraki is feeling, the loss of something very precious. (Maybe Hawks wasn’t too far off. Shigaraki did treat you like a possession.)

He visits your grave often, every day if he can. It’s beautiful, encased in obsidian and marble, gold lettering announcing the tragedy of your short life. He never learned what your favorite flowers were so he returns with a different bouquet each time. Today’s were pink carnations.

Much to his surprise, there was a figure already standing there. Your father, he recognizes. “You come at a time when no one else does so it’s hard to get a hold of you.” That was on purpose of course. He didn’t want to complain to you with an audience.

“I’m sorry I don’t know who you are but the way you come here every day with flowers, spending hours at a time you must have loved my daughter very much.”

His throat closes. He doesn’t know what to say.

Shigaraki cries more when he goes home, an avalanche of memories saturating his brain. Memories of your smile, your sarcastic quips, how he could never shut you up when you were talking about your favorite manga.

There’s a revolver in his desk. He could do it. Shoot his own brains out. Be where you are. His hands are shaking. Is he this much of a coward? You don’t care right, you wanted him to die right? For all the shit he did to you? You told him you had nightmares, that when you closed your eyes, all you could see was him.

But you were a bleeding heart. You’d never wish that upon anyone. Shigaraki looks out the window, wondering that if he could do it all over again, whether he’d be kinder to you.

No, he wouldn’t be.

[nazyalenskyism]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans

Summary: A Zoyalai fic based on the prompt: “Some angst and comfort. Some reunion after a very, very long time.”  send me a promt and i’ll write you a blurb

           “Do you see her?” Genya called out, scanning the waves of people disembarking the ships on her tiptoes. It had been months since Zoya had been stationed in the Wandering Isle, a position she had specifically asked him for before the war had ended as they walked through the streets of Ketterdam. Despite Genya’s insistence that Zoya not leave, the two of them had known that it was a necessity. They were too close to crossing a line that they couldn’t afford to, and they had silently agreed that distance was the only way to remedy the problem. Nikolai had known that leading the country into a peaceful era was going to be taxing, but he hadn’t imagined how difficult it was going to be without Zoya at his side. He had come to rely on her, not only for matters of the state, but for matters of the mind too, and ever since she’d left all those months ago, he’d only felt the discontent in his heart grow. He thought he could temper his want for Zoya if she wasn’t constantly at his side, but he’d come to learn that there was a reason for the famous saying, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, being so popular. Nikolai could hear his general’s voice in his ear, could picture the roll of her eyes at the confession, how she would threaten to call Tolya into the room so that the two could lament over forlorn poetry while she got drunk with Tamar, Genya and Nadia. Saints, he missed her.

            “It’s dropped anchor late,” Nikolai called back, slipping his timepiece back into his pocket, brushing his fingers against the cool velvet ribbon before turning to Genya. “And besides, it’ll take them a bit to disembark and--”

          “Nikolai,” Genya gasped in response to a sudden commotion at the gangplank. Nikolai’s head snapped up spotting the daub of blue silk descending down the plank, supported on either side by First Army soldiers. Zoya.           “Move,” Genya yelled, elbowing her way through the crowd, Nikolai hot on her heels. If the sickly pallor of her face and droopy lids of her eyes weren’t alarming enough, the way that she crumpled into his arms was and matted blood in her hair were. 

          “Commander Nazyalensky? Zoya?”           A low, unintelligible groan sounded from her lips and Nikolai’s heart dropped. What had happened to her? At Genya’s command, he laid Zoya out on the ground, letting Tamar assess her condition. Tamar’s hands hovered over Zoya’s form, and after a long moment, the Heartrender spoke. “She should be fine, but we need to get her back to the Dacha, we need more healers.”

          Genya grasped at Tamar as Nikolai carefully lifted his general into his arms, “is it that bad?”           “She’s lost a lot of blood, it’s a messy and difficult process that I don’t want to try in the back of the carriage. She should be okay.” 

          “She has to be fine. I can’t lose her too.” Tamar squeezed the other girl’s shoulder at the words before hopping into the driver’s seat with Tolya, briefing him on the situation while the others settled into the coach.           “Come on, Nazyalensky. Hold on a little while longer,” Nikolai whispered as they tore down the road, Zoya’s unconscious form limp in his arms, Genya’s shaking fingers curled into the blue silk of her kefta, as if she could force Zoya to stay with them.

          The next few hours were a blur in his mind. As soon as the carriage stopped, the Tolya offered to take Zoya in his arms but Nikolai refused to leave, carrying her to his chambers. For once his head was clear of anything but the situation at hand. They’d lost so much, they couldn’t afford to lose Zoya. He couldn’t bear to lose Zoya.           He stood by the window as the healers got to work on his general, applying their training in the small science to replenish her blood and heal her wounds. Nikolai knew that the Corporalki were more than capable, but he knew as well as anyone the potential for things to go wrong, no matter how good the odds were. 

          Nikolai was brought a basin of water to wash off with, a stack of urgent letters, and the reports from the crew of the ship and their account of the events that had left Zoya in this state. Once he’d read the reports, he sent the letters away, nothing was more urgent than this.           After what seemed like an eternity, Tolya sent the healers away, stating that he and Tamar could finish the job themselves, but he knew the reason they did this. It was because Zoya would’ve hated to appear vulnerable before this many people, she would probably admonish them all after she woke up for having the audacity to view her in her injured state, despite being her closest friends. It was when they were alone, Genya in one corner of the room, Nikolai in the other, with the twins standing over Zoya when the silence was broken once more.           “You’re not allowed to let her leave again.”           He scrubbed a hand over his face before turning to Genya, “even if I tried, do you think she would listen? Zoya Nazyalensky takes orders from no one, we all know that.”           “Don’t let her look for reasons to leave. Give her a reason to stay. ” Before Nikolai could fully process the meaning behind her words, a low groan caught their attention. “Nikolai?”           I’m here, he wanted to say, but for the first time in his life, apprehension held him back.           “Where’s Nikolai,” she mumbled again, writhing enough to disrupt the twins’ work. He was at her side in an instant, sinking onto the mattress and taking her reaching hand in his.           “I’m here,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from face, watching the crease in her brow ease as she unconsciously leaned into his touch. Her movements stopped, her body relaxing back into sleep, and Nikolai felt his heart tighten at the way she curled into him.           He felt stares from their friends, but no one said anything aside from Zoya’s occasional calls from him whenever he stepped back to let the twins continue their work. Every time she called, he was there, brushing back her hair, holding her hand between his, murmuring words of encouragement he knew she wouldn’t hear or remember. Around twilight, Nikolai realized that his friends had left them, the quiet of the room felt suffocating now that they were alone. It felt wrong that she was the one injured and asleep while he watched over her, for months their positions had been reversed, and while he hadn’t missed being chained to his bed every night he had missed the time it had given him with her. She had been the first thing he saw in the morning, the last thing he saw at night for months, and he hadn’t realized just how much he missed what that particular practice of theirs had given him.           He slowly pulled his hand from hers, easing into a chair at her bedside. “I’m sorry I let you go,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before he heard her voice.

          “Nikolai?”           “I’m here,” he replied, helping her into a sitting position, and filling up a glass of water for her before settling down himself.           “You’re really here?”           “I know it’s hard to believe, as handsome as I am, I’m not a dream.” He smiled at her irritated exhale, “long time no see, Nazyalensky. You’re looking as darling as ever.”

          “You look worse. Much worse than I remember.”

          “I know I must be devilishly handsome in your fantasies, but a day spent tirelessly at your bedside may have me looking a little worse for wear, I’ll admit.”           “Where are we?” Her dark lashes fluttered against her golden cheeks, voice hoarse but the colour seemed to have returned to her face.  

          “Udova. The twins said that you needed more Corporalki to help stabilize you. You lost a lot of blood.”

          “This is your ancestral estate?”

          “Given how my father is Fjerdan, I don’t think it’s technically mine.” 

          “You used to come here as a child?” faint amusement lit her eyes, “baby Nikolai reigning terror on everyone, or holed away in the library, reading books until you couldn’t see straight?”           “Both.” 

          “Of course, I would expect nothing less.” A lingering silence followed her words, neither sure of exactly how to proceed.           “How are you feel--”

          “You look tired,” her hand reached out, and before he could react, she was cupping his face softly, thumb gently stroking along his cheek. “Have you been sleeping?”           “Yes.”

          Her stern gaze met his eyes, “your lies don’t work on me.”

          “First you’re immune to my charm, and now my lies. Keep this up and you’ll put me out of business, Nazyalensky.”

          Zoya’s hand dropped suddenly, her whole body recoiling at his words, leaving him to shudder from the absence of her warmth. Was she so horrified at the mere idea of being charmed by him? Nikolai sank back into his chair, unsure of how to proceed. Zoya sat staring down stubbornly at her intertwined fingers, and he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed answers. “What happened out there? You almost died Zoya.”

          “I was protecting the crew.”

          “You were unnecessarily throwing yourself in harm's way and you know it. I got the report from the Captain, he said that they would’ve made it safely to port without your heroics.”

          “I had no choice! It was either me or them.”           Nikolai laughed humorlessly, running a frustrated hand through his hair, an action he had repeated countless times today. “That’s not true and you know it. Four years as Commander of the Second Army, of working with me and you couldn’t come up with an alternative? Do you get joy out of nearly getting yourself killed?”

          “No,” she hissed. “You would’ve done the exact same thing without a moment of hesitation, don’t act like you wouldn't have.”

          “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve done. What matters is that you shouldn't have done it in the first place.”

          “I’m a single soldier, I’m expendable. The intel we gathered, my unit, the crew, they weren’t. It was an easy choice, one I’d make again.”

          “For Saints sake, you’re not expendable Zoya!” he burst out. Why was she so convinced that she was? 

          “I was there to lead them--to protect them. If you’re worried about being down a general, you know there are more than capable replacements for me, Nikolai. ”

          “You’re not replaceable! I don’t need anyone else. I need you, Zoya!” The words were breathless, and once they were out he couldn’t reel them back in.

          His words hung in the air before she began to nod slowly, as if she had been expecting the outburst, “as your general.” It wasn’t a question, but it was. 

          “Yes, but it’s more than that.” Why was he having such difficulty saying it? How did he explain the all encompassing nature of his feelings to Zoya? Brave and beautiful Zoya, with her eyes hesitantly, maybe even hopefully trained on him?           Nikolai wanted  to take her into his arms and explain that ever since they’d been dragged into the Fold by Saints, he had felt a connection to her, that he could taste the ice wine they shared on quiet nights, smell her signature scent of wildflowers on the wind wherever she was near. He wanted to tell her that he felt a connection between them, as palpable as a golden thread binding them together, and wondered if she felt it too. Nikolai desired to tell her that at her departure, he had felt like the thread had been pulled and pulled until he couldn’t breathe, only for it to suddenly snap back like an elastic at the news of her return, an overwhelming sensation of longing overtaking his senses. He wanted to tell her that when he first saw her today, it had felt like someone had pierced his chest with a lance, an agony rivaling only what he’d felt when being impaled by the thornwood that day in the Fold, the same day he’d felt his fate be irreversibly bound to hers. He wanted so much, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward in his chair, uttering words he could never take back.

            “I want you. I want you all the time, Zoya.”

            “You want me, but will you have me? Are you not bound to your duty as king to choose the best person for your country?” To anyone else her face would appear impassive but he knew the way her eyes widened slightly, the way her lips parted, when she was holding her breath, afraid to hope that something was true. She wanted it to be true.

            “If my country and I are one and the same,”  he began, taking her hand in his, “then I shall only give it what it most deserves, and hope I am worthy of it too.”

            “Can you let yourself do that?”           “A king can do as he pleases, can’t he?” She turned away at those words, and Nikolai reached out, cupping her face and bringing her gaze back to him. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. I thought we both knew what was right at the time, and it’s clear that we were both wrong.”           “Go on,” she whispered, her shining eyes locked on his.           “I don’t want you to leave again. I want you here, by my side, for as long as time will let me, if that’s what you want.”           “What are you proposing?” Her hand slid up to his and she leaned further into his touch.           “A coquettish courtship, a exuberant engagement, a whirlwind wedding and when all that’s said and done,” he angled his head towards hers, “hopefully many, many years of peaceful and quiet companionship.”           “Sounds perfect,” Zoya breathed, her gaze trained on his lips, “except for one thing.”           Nikolai pulled back, afraid that he’d alarmed her, “what?”           She wrapped her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards her, “you expect me to believe that a single moment with you will be quiet.”            “I can think of several ways you can shut me up if I ever get to be too much. I think you’ll find that I am easily--” Zoya crashed her lips against his, and despite the harsh words she always seemed to have readily on hand, he felt her smile against him. For once in his life, Nikolai let himself relax, knowing that the rest of the world would still be there when they were ready to face it, together.

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  Fawn makes good on her promise of a safe house and a power struggle begins

The rest of the journey to the safe house was mostly in silence. They spoke only when asking for relief or water breaks, picking berries and sharing some of the rations Y/N had brought on the road with them. The had to cover their tracks as much as possible, staying mostly in dense foliage to be better concealed from the roads. Soon they approached a rundown cottage deep in the woods, no roads led to or away from it. It was just getting dark again and Y/N knew that they were all tired and that Kaz's leg must have been in immense pain. She let them in the cottage and smiled at their surprise. She kept the outside looking dilapidated, but the inside was fixed nicely. She told the others where rooms were, that there were fresh clothes in each and sent them away to change before getting a fire going in the hearth. Once it was ready, she put a pot of water on to boil and assembled a small meal for them to have now that they were safe. No one knew about this place, she was confident about that, they could rest here for a few days, visit the town a few miles away to resupply, and then travel north.

"How did you know what clothes I normally wear," Kaz asked, voice suspicious, as he entered the room again in black slacks and an almost fitted black button-down shirt. She looked him over and made a face of annoyance, she thought she could tell his size better, but he must have lost more weight in prison than she thought.

"I asked to search your discarded clothes upon arrival, its how I got Jesper's guns, your cane and gloves, I noticed what your color was," she said. Black, like the Darkling, but not for the same reason she thought. The Darkling wore black to assert a fear over people, fear of his power, fear of what he would do if you hurt his people, Kaz wore black to give the appearance of someone who's soul was dark, who had an empty dark hole where a heart should be, and for a short time Y/N had believed that might have been the case. Then she saw the look in his eyes when he asked her for Jesper to be put in his cell. He hid his emotions well but that one millisecond of true love for his missing friend had confirmed her suspicion, Kaz Brekker had a good heart and soul buried deep under his emotional baggage. She didn't need to bring it out or make him somehow whole again, she just needed him to have enough of a soul to help when they got to the resistance, his brains and ability to strategically mastermind almost any heist would be such an advantage to the group, they needed this man.

"Thank you, for the cane and gloves," he rumbled, turning to the take the boiling pot off the fire. Y/N almost moved to help him but realized if she did she would need to get close enough to touch him so she let him handle it, standing nearby in case the pot dropped. Kaz surprised her with how much he pushed himself, she knew he must still be in pain yet here he was working, keeping himself busy, probably trying to not think about his now decimated home. She knew how much that must be weighing on him. Her own home had been eviscerated by the old king of Ravka a few years before the civil war, when Ravka was only at war with the Fjedans. She had been in training at the Little Palace by then and her teacher had had to tell her about her family's death. It was devastating, she still couldn't bring herself to hurt anyone, much to the Darkling's annoyance. She was useful for her way of getting information, but she could always avoid hurting someone, she couldn't destroy a family like that, not like hers had been destroyed.

"I thought they might be helpful in the future," she said. "I need Kaz Brekker to be back to full power when we get to the resistance." Kaz eyed her and she couldn't tell what he was thinking as he went back to filling a kettle with hot water. She went to the cabinets, getting cups and tea. Jesper finally came out to join them, smiling like old times now that he was in proper clothes.

"You should change," Jesper said to Y/N, motioning to her still being in the prison tunic. She nodded and went to her room, changing into a pair of pants and white button-down shirt, putting on her vest of pockets and jacket. She loaded up the pockets of her vest with her gloves, some small irons ball bearings, a vial of water, and a few things for first aid. She looked in the cracked mirror on the dresser and saw she looked a mess. She washed her face in the basin of water and brushed out the newly short hair she had, putting it up in a small ponytail to keep it out of her face. She shrugged at the reflection. She was trying to escape a prison, not win a pageant so she just grabbed her guitar from the room before heading to join the others.

Kaz and Jesper were already halfway through the meal before she arrived so she just sat down at the table. Jesper passed her a bowl and some bread they had saved, she smiled at him. Jesper was such a sweet person still, ready to kill a man on site for trying to cheat at cards yes, but still so kind.

"Thank you Jesper," she said, taking up a spoon and starting to eat. After they had filled themselves, she sat back in the chair, picking at the last of her bread. "We'll stay here for a few days, rest, get supplies for the town nearby."

"We should keep moving, they probably know where you live," Kaz said, looking at her as if she were an idiot for wanting to stay in her home. She sighed; she knew they would butt heads, but did it have to start now?

"This isn't my home Kaz," she said. "I live here in secret sometimes, when I say that I am visiting home, but I have no home to visit anymore thanks to the previous king. No one knows about this shack and I have made sure that it is not easy to find. The nearest town is five miles away and they have many travelers and shouldn't notice use as long as we take precautions." Kaz didn't look convinced.

"I know in the prison you oversaw my movements, but out here, I am back in charge, it is two against one in this room so we will follow my lead. Tomorrow we get supplies, then we leave. We will go to this resistance to find our crew and until we arrive you will follow my lead," he said, voice rasping with authority. Y/N had had quite enough men trying to rule over her for her lifetime. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Look, this town is a well-traveled area, if we go in tomorrow then it will be swarming with Grisha looking for 2 escapees that killed a high-ranking member of the Darkling's inner circle, if we stay here a few days those Grisha will have left to search other towns and we can freely get supplies and head out on our journey. I know that prison has addled your brain but even Jesper knows that this idea of yours is foolish," she said. Both turned to look at Jesper who was trying to sneak out of the room.

"Jesper, tell her she's crazy," Kaz demanded. Jesper opened his mouth.

"Please, his plan is idiotic..."

"No one has ever said called me idiotic..."

"Maybe not to your face..."

"YOU'RE BOTH WRONG!" Jesper finally said, voice loud and clear, startling the two of them out of their argument. Kaz and Y/N looked at him again. "Look, we do need to lay low, but we still need to get out of here quick. So we should take a day, regroup and set out a plan to get north, but we can't just stay here for days, they will find us, you think that the Darkling, with all the betrayal he's suffered, is just going to let his new girlfriend disappear to a shack for a few days and not know where it is?"

Y/N saw Kaz grip his cane tighter, mirroring the look on her of annoyance on her face. Jesper was right on both accounts, a day would clear out most Grisha from the town, giving them a chance to resupply and maybe get lucky and steal a carriage out of town, and he was right about the Darkling. She was an idiot to think he hadn't tracked her to the shed when she disappeared. She looked to Kaz and he nodded at her.

"We stay in tomorrow, the day after we get supplies, and we get moving," Y/N said. Kaz agreed. "Now, get cleaned up and get some sleep."

 Kaz had noticed the guitar that Y/N had brought out to the living area the night before but he didn't ask her about it until she began to strum it around midday. They were in the middle of their rest day and Jesper was still sleeping so it was just Y/N and Kaz sitting by the fire. Kaz had been thinking about what he planned to do once he found his crew again, how to get them out of the resistance, maybe find a new city they could run. Y/N had been humming to herself, picking at the guitar for some time now. Kaz found that the music was soothing to him, her voice deep and calming, it seemed to be helping him think. After a time he heard her mumbling some words.

"What is that?" he asked, looking at her finally, finding her looking at him as if in a trance. She shook herself and looked at him blinking a few times before her face reddened a little. Surprisingly Kaz felt his face getting red also, but he wasn't sure why. She had an attraction to him, that was clear now. He had thought perhaps at the prison she had been acting well, but clearly she did find him entrancing for some reason. And strangely Kaz found he liked that. He had known other women in the past had been interested in him, or well at least, interested in his power within the Dregs. There had been something he felt with Inej, but they had never explored that and honestly now that they had been apart it seemed perhaps those feelings were more friendly than he had previously believed. This that roared up in him now was new, strange. He had been in prison too long, he needed to focus. Y/N finally had pulled herself from her own mind, letting out a chuckle as she picked a couple notes.

"O, I used to write songs all the time, its been awhile but something just came to me last night," she said. "Do you like music?" Kaz should have just dropped it and not answered but he wanted to talk to her.

"Sometimes, but we didn't have a lot of music at the Crow Club, it was more gambling than entertainment, but what you were playing sounded nice," he said. She smiled at him and his mouth twitched up into a smirk.

"You never smile do you?" she asked, setting the guitar flat in her lap. He could see that there was writing on it, signatures. She followed his eyes and her own eyes turned sad. "My family...friends from my village, they signed it when they gave it to me. It was a present when I left to do my Grisha training." She looked back at him, her dark eyes a little watery. "My older brother taught me to play it when I was 4, couldn't even reach the strings." Kaz looked at her, a memory flooding back of being back on the farm, he was with Jordie in the barn, around 6 and Jordie was showing him how to tie a fishing line so he could go fishing for the first time.

"You're right, I don't smile," he said. He knew he should keep his mouth shut but he couldn't help but ask. "Do you know if Pekka Rollins survived the assault on Ketterdam?"

"I don't know, I don't have a list of names and I wasn't there," she said. He could tell she was lying, probably thinking he would hate her for being present at the destruction of his home but he didn't hate her. What he hated was the idea that Pekka Rollins could be dead and he hadn't been the one to kill him. "Was he a friend of yours?"

"No, his death was supposed to be at my hand," he responded, voice rasping in anger. He ran a hand through his hair, noting it was significantly longer than it was before he went to prison. When he glanced up at Y/N he saw she was watching him intently again. "It's rude to stare."

"Ya well then don't do that to your hair, makes me want to touch it," she responded. He looked at her, expecting her to giggle or blush and look away but instead she just stared right back at him. He swallowed hard. Why did her eyes have to look through him? It was almost like she could see what he was thinking. The thought of someone touching his hair made him shutter internally but he couldn't lie when he thought about her doing it, it wasn't as repulsive as everyone else, it almost seemed like it might be nice. She smiled at him.

"If you are ever comfortable enough let me know, I can give you a haircut or something if you want," she offered. He was going to answer when Jesper came stumbling out of his room, shirtless wearing one shoe.

"Is anyone making dinner?"

[elizabeethan]

On This Night

Emma Swan’s life falls to shambles suddenly one night, and Captain Jones is there to pick up the pieces.

Rated E for smut and some violent stuff

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Warning: This story contains a few very brief and minimally detailed descriptions of gore (blood), threats of sexual assault, domestic violence, and miscarriage. Nothing is graphically described but it's there.  This fic also depicts Baelfire and Walsh in a very negative light so if you’re not into that please move on!

A/N: while watching the CS movie long ago, I noticed that jmo/Emma has a scar on her chest above her left breast which you can see pretty clearly in this gif set. I wondered how she might’ve gotten it, and then created an entire universe in which Emma is a bar maid and somehow got into trouble one night, and Killian comes to her rescue. Then I wrote this prompt, and ouatxxxxx said she wanted more, so the rest is pure self-indulgence.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​​ @kmomof4​​ @stahlop​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @laschatzi​​ @emelizabeth88​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @kday426​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @tiganasummertree​ @gingerchangeling​ @jrob64​ @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​​ @swampmedusa​​ @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​ @shireness-says​​ @snowbellewells​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @ouatpost​​ @ouatxxxxx @donteattheappleshook​​ @cocohook38​

Emma tries very hard to keep her head down and get her work done each night. Being a barmaid in a skeevy tavern isn’t easy and Emma always feels the need to stay on her toes as she works around the raucous crowd of sailors and pirates. She’s seen things get out of hand before, and she isn’t ignorant to what goes on in this area, so she always has her guard up.

She maneuvers her way around the dark and muggy tavern carefully, avoiding sticky hands attached to slimy men, handing out mugs of ale to paying customers and being shouted at by the ones who won't toss her a coin. Her job shouldn't be difficult— it isn’t, in fact. But when some pirate ships make port just outside the tavern’s doors, she never fails to see the rise in aggressive and discordant behavior from her customers.

Granny normally tries to calm her down, reminding her that the pirates will leave soon and the tavern’s crowd will be back to its usual fishermen and honest sailors, but it hardly ever works. Emma can’t help feeling nervous that someone will step out of line and that she’ll be powerless to prevent destruction of the tavern or harm to herself or the other bar maid, Ruby.

She continues on with her night, handing out bread and ale to anyone who pays her, until she notices a familiar face. Though she didn’t catch him coming in, the dark and brooding man sits in the corner surrounded by other women she’s seen in the tavern before and laughing loudly enough to draw the attention of the other patrons. He looks as handsome as he usually does, wearing black leather and kohl under his eyes to make the bright blue pop from across the small room. She reprimands herself for always noticing, but he fills the tight outfit flawlessly, the muscles around his shoulders clearly defined through the leather and the hair on his chest peeking through the many open buttons.

She watches him discreetly throughout the night, continuing her work and avoiding the hands of the patrons until the crowd begins to dwindle. As it does, she notices that he stays put, continuing his games but dismissing the women who were keeping him company.

She gathers some of the refuse from the busy night and carries as much of it as she can out the back door, reveling in the cold bite of the air outside of the stuffy building. She hasn't been still all evening, and takes a moment to lean against the brick wall and close her eyes, breathing deeply despite the wretched smells surrounding her.

“Well, hello there,” she hears from beside her, and she wants to kick herself for hoping it’s him. Instead, her eyes fly open to see a slight, tall man leering at her threateningly. She’s frozen, the blood in her veins turning to ice in response to the man’s spine-chilling presence.

“Sir,” she nods in greeting, trying to sneak by him without triggering an angry response that she’s grown so accustomed to from the men who frequent the area.

“Where do you think you're going?”

She clears her throat, freezing again as his arms cage her against the brick wall and he smirks again. “Just trying to get back inside, sir.”

“I like when you call me that,” he says.

“I have just a bit more work to do this evening, I should be getting back.'' She attempts to be forceful, showing him that she isn't interested, but she has a feeling it isn’t working.

“You're not going anywhere until I tell you you are,” he insists, and she feels a bit of moisture hitting her face due to just how close he’s standing to her.

“I—” she starts, but she feels his hands grabbing her arms below the shoulders and she gasps in response, fear grasping onto her. “Sir, I can’t, I have a husband.”

“I don’t give a damn about your husband. One man can’t claim a woman who looks like you.”

Tears begin to sting at her eyes as he takes a small dagger from the side of his leg, holding it up to her throat threateningly before she feels a menacing hand trailing roughly down her side. “Please,” she begs softly through a sob. He puts his hand against her mouth and hisses to silence her and she takes her opportunity, biting down on his salty flesh.

He shouts, and the knife slips from her throat. “Stupid bitch!” he screams at her, spitting at her and shaking out his hand. “And you got blood on my sleeve. You idiotic wench.”

Stunned, Emma flounders quickly away from him and reaches for the door, but he grabs her by the wrist again and pulls her towards him. She lets out a loud cry, feeling a sharp sting on the skin of her left breast as he tugs that same arm, and she thinks she must have truly bungled her escape from this monster. She tries to accept her fate, crying some more as he forces her to the ground, until he’s suddenly off of her and on the cobblestones before her.

She hears shouting followed by the sound of a fist contacting the man’s face and thinks a bone may have cracked at the impact. She chooses this moment to scurry away on her hands and heels, dragging her frock below her.

“Swan,” she hears eventually. Her eyes are open, she thinks, but she can’t see much of what’s going on around her. “Swan, he isn’t here anymore.”

When she finally sees him, she’s panting as her eyes make contact with his, and the bright blue grounds her just slightly. “We’ve got to go, love. You're bleeding everywhere, we’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

She isn't sure what kind of sound escapes her throat when he takes her hand in his, pulling her up onto her feet as she stumbles into him. She can hardly stand up, even with him supporting her weight, and she wonders what has happened to the strong, independent Emma she left inside the tavern. “Not Granny,” she tells him weakly, and she thinks she hears him scoff before a wave of nausea washes over her when they try to walk.

Stilling, she takes a deep breath and he tugs on her once more. “Come, love. We can go to the ship if you'd like, but we have to move now. You're bleeding quite badly.”

She whimpers as he tries to get her to walk once more, feeling dizzy and even more disoriented, and before she knows it, he hoists her into his hold and is carrying her through the streets until they make it to the gangplank of his ship.

Somehow, he manages to get her down the ladder into his quarters without dropping her or alerting any member of his crew that she’s even aboard. He takes a clean cloth from beside the basin and wets it before dabbing it against the skin of her chest and drawing a shout from her at the burn. “Hush, love,” he says softly, and she knows his goal is to soothe her rather than keep her quiet. She certainly feels less intimidated now than she had when the smarmy man hissed threats at her

“You need sutures,” he tells her after a few moments of silence. Her skin has gone numb at the feel of the burning liquid pressing to her, and she realizes he’s using rum to cleanse her wound. She wishes she could drink some. “I could do them now, if you'd like.”

“Okay.”

As he cares for her, she guiltily lets her thoughts wander to the first night they met. It was months ago, perhaps years by now, and he continued to request ale from her all night, tipping her handsomely. She was taken by him immediately and almost allowed herself to bring her guard down, but the ring on the chain around her neck continued to weigh heavily upon her heart to remind her of her responsibilities.

When she found out that he was not a naval captain, but rather a ruthless pirate, she felt conflicted. Growing up an orphan, she’s always wanted to travel the realms and seek adventure, but falling pregnant, marrying the father, and then losing the baby all in a matter of months made her too scared and traumatized to do much of anything aside from advance her career as a wench in a tavern by the port.

Meeting the Captain mere months after marrying and then losing her baby was a blessing and a curse. Each night he comes to the tavern, he shares brief stories of his latest adventures and it fills the hole of wanderlust in her heart as she falls for him again and again. However, each time she sees him and listens to his tales of splendor, she’s reminded that she can never have him.

As quickly as the thoughts of leaving her loveless marriage come to mind, they leave her, and she forces herself to move on from her feelings for the handsome, gruesome pirate.

And despite the decision she made all that time ago to stay faithful to her husband, she feels something in the pit of her stomach as the captain stands before her and carefully stitches her up. She can’t help but wonder if she made the right choice. It isn't as if Captain Jones even propositioned her to come away with him, not outwardly, but she always wonders if she would have done something differently if he had.

“You shouldn’t be out on your own late at night like that,” he says, finally breaking the soft silence between them as he finishes up his work on her skin sliced by the slipping blade. He had blessedly given her a few swigs of rum as he worked, so she felt the warmth rushing through her at the feel of his hand sweeping some hair away from her wound.

“I had to take out the waste,” she tells him softly, grabbing for another swig of rum and allowing the burn in her throat to distract from the burn on her breast.

“It’s too dark and secluded. If I hadn’t heard you shouting…”

“How’d you know to come outside, then? I thought you were busy with your many women?”

“I watched you walk out the back alone, then saw some bloke follow you and when you didn’t come back in, I figured I’d better check. Glad that I did.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. She is, too.

He fastens a bandage to her skin, gently tugging at the ties as the fabric loops under her arms to secure it tightly over the injury. “Are you alright, Emma?” he asks tenderly, lifting his hand as if he might touch her. He hardly ever calls her Emma.

“Yes, you’ve seen to my wounds very diligently, Captain,” she smiles as the rum warms her.

“That’s not what I mean,” he answers impatiently, clearly unappreciative of her lighthearted tone.

“Oh.”

“This evening could’ve gone quite differently.”

She nods, understanding his meaning. He isn’t searching for vindication or thanks; he’s worried about her.

“I need to get home,” she suddenly realizes. It’s far past what was meant to be the end of her shift, and now that she’s regained her wits, she realizes that she never properly closed the tavern, and that her husband will likely be looking after her soon.

“Let me walk you,” he practically demands. After what’s happened, she doesn't want to argue, but logically knows that she must.

“I can’t.”

“I won't walk you to your door, just far enough to know you’ve made it safely.”

He understands her.

~~~~

When she’s home, safely guided by the deadly pirate captain who first entertains her with blithe conversation and then watches from around the bend as she walks through the door, she’s met with exactly what she was expecting.

He’s drunk.

He shouts at her for being home late. He chastises her for the soiled garb, telling her that they can hardly afford to replace it. He accuses her of being drunk, despite the soft daze from the rum having long worn off during her stroll.

He notices the bandage and becomes irate.

“You truly do have absolutely no respect for me, is that it? You’d run off behind the tavern with a man and allow yourself to be mutilated like this?”

“Bae, it wasn’t like that. He followed me and he attacked me.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses, Emma. You were in an alley alone with a man, and you got what was coming to you for being unfaithful.” She feels the tears coming back, burning her eyes and the back of her throat as her bottom lip quivers. “At least tell me it was Granny who stitched you up and not that man.”

She shakes her head weakly, swallowing the tears back desperately. “It wasn’t that man,” she tells him ambiguously.

“So it was Granny, then,” he says slowly, his eyes drawing narrow as he stares into her glassy eyes.

She swallows. She’s a horrible liar despite being able to tell when anyone else is lying, and if there’s one thing he knows about his wife, it’s when she isn’t being truthful. “It—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“So it wasn’t Granny? Who the hell was it, then?!”

“Bae—”

“Who did you let near you, Emma?!”

“It was simply a kind passerby who helped me in my time of need, Bae. I’m sorry.” She’s lying. She thinks he may know it.

“So it was a man. You allowed a man who isn’t your husband to touch your flesh, and you expect to come home to no consequences?”

“Bae, I’ve,” she chokes, begging, “I’ve had a very difficult evening. Please, can we talk about this in the morning?”

“We’ll talk about it when I want to talk about it!”

“I’ve never been unfaithful—”

He cuts her off, not with his words but with his open palm clouting across her face.

She gasps, slowly reaching her hand up to the burning flesh of her left cheek as tears slide down easily. “Get out of my house. Go back to that man, you harlot.”

“Bae,” she cries out, her voice completely shot and pathetically weak.

“Can’t give me a son, can’t stay faithful— the only two things a woman needs to do— you’re worthless. My father was right about what he said when I married you; you're nothing but a greedy orphan. Get out.”

~~~~

She wanders the streets for a while before finally making her way back towards the tavern. She knows it to be closed by now, but she also knows which window Ruby leaves unsecured due to the broken lock, so she can sneak inside and spend the night.

Everything hurts her. Her cheek is throbbing and hot against the cool air and her chest is burning and stinging through her sutures, but what hurts the most is her broken spirit.

She feels so defeated. She had been thinking about leaving her husband for some time, simply because she was unhappy with his mood and his drinking and his endless verbal assault on her, but also because he serves as a constant reminder of the child she’d lost not long before she was due to give birth to him. Beyond all of this, though, he’s never struck her, not until now.

She tries to jimmy the window open with little success due to her maimed chest shooting pains into her left arm and lets out a sob of frustration. If she doesn't get inside the tavern, she’s unsure of how she’ll be spending her night. Surely she isn’t immune to another attack in a dark alley.

“Swan?” she hears from far behind her, and she jumps up and spins around to meet the owner of the soothing voice. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

When she meets his eyes with hers, despite him being several feet away, she feels stinging tears once more, but she isn’t sure why. When he steps towards her and takes her hands in his, she knows it's because of the relief she feels, like a tidal wave crashing into her and carrying her to safety. “What’s happened?” he asks, reaching a hand up to her swollen cheek.

She chokes out a sob, dropping her head in defeat as she allows the tears to fully take her over. Seemingly without a second thought, he winds his hand behind her head and draws her close to him, pulling her against his chest and holding her tight. He hushes her gently as he had earlier, and she feels safer in his arms than she has in months.

“He threw me out,” she finally chokes out. “He was drunk and angry with me and he told me to leave.”

“And he struck you, love?” She nods against his chest, feeling moisture mixing with the hair there, realizing it’s from her tears. “Do you need a place to stay now, then?”

“I was going to stay in the tavern but I can’t get the window open,” she says quietly, still clinging her arms around his waist and refusing to consider the fact that she’s doing exactly what her husband had accused. She’s standing here, taking comfort from a man to whom she is not married. A man she could love easily if she so allowed. She’s unfaithful.

“Come with me, would you? I’ll keep you safe.”

She sniffles hard against his chest again and shakes her head. “I can’t. I don’t want him to find out.”

“Then where will you sleep? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor of Granny’s.”

He’s right. Even if she could get in, there’s no way for her to get upstairs where the beds are without a key, so she’d likely end up on the cold hard floor anyway. And Bae did throw her out of her own home. Where else is she supposed to go?

“I’ll sleep on a chair, or on a rug, or something,” she finally concedes.

“Absolutely not. I’ll stay on the floor, you will take my bunk.”

“Killian—”

“Emma,” he insists, pushing gently on the front of her shoulders so that he can finally look at her in her eyes. He almost never calls her Emma. “You’re taking the bunk, and that’s final. I’ll not have a fair maiden sleeping on the floor of my ship.”

“I’m hardly a fair maiden,” she argues weakly.

“Fairer than any I’ve ever seen”

When she looks up at him, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes with her own, she almost lets herself believe him.

~~~~

“We had only lain together once,” she says into the darkness. It feels like several hours have passed since he found her in the street, but in reality she thinks it’s been under one.

“Hmm?” he asks from the floor, rolling towards her and bringing the heavy blanket with him. It may be nearly spring, but the air still bites at night, especially on the water.

“Bae and I. I laid with him one time, and I became pregnant.”

He’s silent for a moment, then says, “I didn’t know you had a child.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

They’re quiet again for a few moments as she focuses on calming her breath. “He attempted to do the right thing and marry me. But a few months later, I lost the babe. A boy.”

She thinks she hears him gulping. “I’m sorry, lass.”

“Is it horrible to say that I... I’m glad I don’t have a child to worry about now?” she asks with a breaking voice, tears springing to her eyes once more.

She hears him stir, and in the moonlight streaming through the windows of his quarters, she sees him sitting up, turning towards her. “No, Swan,” he says. “It would’ve been dangerous for a wee lad.”

“Sleeping here on the ship tonight?”

“Living with your husband.”

“Oh.”

He’s right.

~~~~

She wakes alone in his quarters, the blanket he slept under neatly folded at her feet. Her cheek feels less swollen, but it still throbs and the burning in her chest hasn’t gone away.

She isn’t expecting to see him so soon after she’s woken up, but a few brief moments later, Killian’s back in the room with some bread and fruit. “Morning,” he mumbles, handing the food to her and turning back to his desk.

“Thank you.”

“Aye.”

He sits down, apparently very engrossed in his logs as he pours over them. “For everything,” she clarifies.

He looks up at her, his eyes like steel and his jaw clenched tight. She wants to touch his rough, stubbled cheek to sooth the tension, but she stays put.

“Aye,” he finally returns. She thinks his face is softening, but he looks back down at his logs and stays silent.

After she’s finished her breakfast, and when it’s clear that he isn’t interested in talking, she moves the blankets aside and stands, thankful to have food in her belly as the dizziness she feels likely would’ve been worse. “I’d best be off, then,” she tells him with a soft smile that he doesn’t return.

“And where will you go?”

She shrugs. “Home, I gather.”

His shoulders collapse and he drops the page he was looking at, staring up at her with his jaw agape. “You can’t be serious.”

Emma looks around the room awkwardly before answering, and says, “surely I am… I live there.”

“That’s also where your husband lives, love. The man who assaulted you not twelve hours ago, do you not recall?” he asks condescendingly, and she can feel the heat of his anger from across the sturdy desk.

“Of course I recall,” she answers, reaching a hand up to tenderly poke at her left cheek. “But you’re right, he’s my husband. I have responsibilities. We all can’t just go traipsing around for a living.”

He scoffs, clearly offended but she isn’t sure why. This isn’t the first time she’s poked fun at how he makes his living. “He’s abused you now, Emma! What more of a reason do you need to leave?”

“He’s my husband,” she says weakly, not believing the excuse herself.

“He’s a rat bastard who lay a hand on you after learning that you’d been attacked in the streets. You needed sutures last night! Was he not the least bit concerned?”

“Of course he was concerned!”

“With your well-being?”

He stands from his noble chair and she hears it scraping back against the wooden floor before he takes several steps around the desk until he reaches her.

“Killian,” she starts as he touches her cheek with his own finger, but she has nothing else to say.

“Let me check on the sutures, would you? We need to ensure that they aren’t infected.” His voice has softened considerably and his movements against her cheek are so featherlight that she barely feels them. She nearly has whiplash from the change in his demeanor, from angry with her and her husband to tending to her wounds.

She nods in approval, realizing that over the last 24 hours, he’s been the only man to ask permission to touch her. Perhaps in her lifetime, if she were to really think about it. He removes the bandage that he’d fashioned last night, poking gently at her tender skin and looking at it pensively. “Looks sore,” he points out, and she chuckles.

“It is.”

“I don’t understand you, Emma,” he says, moving back towards desk and taking out some type of salve. He removes the cover and scoops some out, applying a thick layer onto her wound with gentle fingers.

“How do you mean, Captain?”

“I mean… I don’t understand how you could desire to be back in such a position. One in which you could be hurt again, perhaps more severely.”

“I don’t believe it’s of your concern. And I never said I desired it.”

“It’s become my concern. You made it my concern when you told me you were going back to the beast who struck you. And you’re so stubborn that I'm powerless to prevent it from happening again.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as he continues to work the salve into her flesh. “And what would you have me do? Live in the streets?”

“No, I’m sure we could find a place for you here.”

She balks at him because surely he can’t be serious. Her thoughts are drawn immediately back to when they had newly met, when she thought that if he had offered, she may have left with him on his pirate ship and run from her vocally violent husband. But he never offered, and she never asked.

Is this an offer?

“I’ll need to be going,” she says again, her voice just above a whisper. He refuses to look her in the eye as he ties on a clean bandage to cover her wound once again.

“If you—” he starts, cutting himself off. “If there’s anything… I won’t be leaving port for some time.”

It sounds like an offer. Of what, she isn’t sure. She isn’t sure she cares.

“That doesn’t seem very lucrative, sitting in the same port day in and day out without anything to pillage,” she says lightly.

“I’m the captain. I can do as I bloody well please.” She giggles at him, though she doesn’t think he was trying to be funny. “I’m not leaving just yet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, at some point.”

“In the tavern,” she tells him. He nods.

He takes her hand in his once more as she walks towards the door and says, “you don’t deserve this.”

~~~~

“So she decided to come back,” he says through her as she walks over the threshold.

“Hello, Bae,” she responds weakly. He doesn’t stand from his place at the table, continuing to eat as if nothing has changed between the two of them.

“I see you’re still a harlot, haven’t learned your lesson. Who’s changed your bandages today?”

She swallows as she walks towards their sleeping area, hoping to change out of her bloodied dress. “It was going to become infected.”

“Right.”

“Bae,” she starts, her voice gaining some strength. “You struck me.”

He places his utensil down gently, so gently that it frightens her, and turns her head towards her. “I did.”

“Perhaps…” she starts, unsure of how to continue. She started off strong, but she feels her weakness taking over by the second. “Perhaps it won’t happen a second time?”

He stands slowly, threateningly, showing her an ominous smile on his way up and speaks in a frightening tone. “It will happen a second time, and a third, and a forth, so long as you continue to behave so deservingly.”

She doesn’t deserve this, she tries to remind herself.

She stays quiet for some time, retreating under his threatening gaze before he seats himself back at the tables and she says, “okay.”

She moves to the bed and changes her clothes, tears falling as she does so. Then she grabs what few trinkets she can carry without being seen by him, but it isn’t much. Nothing feels quite important enough.

“I need to be off to work,” she says just above a whisper.

“Fine.” He doesn't question her decision to leave hours earlier than she needs to.

“Goodbye.”

~~~~

Ruby let’s Emma stay with her in the tavern all day as she prepares for the evening crowd, baking bread and cleaning mugs. She doesn’t ask why she’s here, but Emma has a feeling she may already know without even having the details.

Granny returns from the markets and immediately asks Emma what the hell she’s doing here so early. Neither of them ask about her bandage or her bruised cheek. She’s lucky to have these two strong ladies in her life. Not only because they give her work when she needs an excuse to leave the house, but also because they’ve provided her with friendship and a sense of family that she lacks in her own home.

She never knew her parents, and growing up an orphan on the streets by the harbor hardened her. She counts herself lucky, though, to have met Ruby and her Granny, as it allowed her to turn her life around. She struggles to maintain her pessimistic outlook of the world when she’s with her best friends, even despite the trials she’s gone through.

Ruby was there for her when she found herself pregnant by a stranger. She spent one night with Bae when he was a patron of the tavern, and the resulting pregnancy was a shock, but he did the right thing and married her. She never loved him, and through bouts of depression during gestation, she grew to resent him. When she lost the baby a mere eight weeks before he was expected, she hated Bae for it. It was almost as if he was relieved to have been saved the hassle of providing for a child. Ruby was there for her then, too.

She’s here for her now.

“It was Bae, wasn’t it?” Ruby asks her as the afternoon wanes into evening and a crowd begins to fill the tavern. “Your face and your chest, Emma, was it Bae?”

She nods, then shakes her head confusingly. “My face, yes. This was some dolt out in the alley.”

“Out here?” Emma nods. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Do you know who it was?”

“I believe it was the one you call Walsh.”

“He won’t be back,” she promises. Emma believes her. She also believes that the damage Killian did to his nose may also be a deterrent.

“Thank you,” she laughs. “I’ll be glad not to get sutures again any time soon.”

“Did Bae suture you before or after he whalloped you?”

She realizes her mistake immediately. Ruby won’t let her casually brush past the pirate captain nursing over her wounds, that’s for certain. After all, Ruby was here for Emma when she met him, and could see immediately the way that she felt about him. “It wasn’t Bae who helped me, it was… it was Captain Jones.”

Ruby slams her hand against the bar, dropping the rag she was using to dry the mugs. “Captain Jones?!” she hisses too loudly, bumping Emma’s shoulder with hers.

“That’s me, love,” she hears, his cocky and assured voice approaching them from across the tavern.

“This man, Emma?” Ruby asks her, moving her brows up and down and bumping her shoulder again. She leans in close and whispers, “I’ve been telling you to get after him for eons!”

“I’m a married woman!”

“Hopefully not for long, hon. I mean, look at you.”

“Ruby,” Emma threatens weakly.

“An ale, if you please, ladies?” he asks once he’s close enough. “Evening, lass.”

She can see him taking stock of her appearance— perhaps checking on her old bruise, perhaps checking for new ones— as he waits for his ale. It’s almost intimidating, but a part of her also feels more cared for now than in her past two years of marriage.

“Good evening, Captain. Can we get you anything else?”

“I wouldn’t mind some company later on, if you feel so inclined to prattle,” he says boldly. It isn’t the first time he’s asked to keep her company after her shift, but it is the first time he’s done so with Ruby around.

“Emma isn’t too busy this evening, are you? You were such help all day, getting the tavern ready to open, surely you can take a break now.”

Emma shoots Ruby a menacing look at her suggestion that she take time off, as well as her hinting at Emma having been here all day when she normally doesn't come until later. Killian knows this, and she’s sure he’s putting the pieces together quickly.

He leads her through the crowd easily, pulling her towards the corner near a window to his usual seat and pulling a chair out for her. She sits slowly, never breaking her eyes from his as he moves to his own chair and plants himself in it, safely settling himself between her and the door.

“Alright?” She nods. “I’m glad to see you.”

She nods again, shrugging as she bites her bottom lip nervously. “I spent the day here.”

“Good.”

“He didn’t even notice. That I’d left.” He sighs. His hatred for her husband is clear, as it has been since they’d met and she told him she was married, but she thinks now he has a valid reason for it. She thinks she may have reason herself.

“He’s a bastard, as I’d said this morning.”

“I can’t— Killian, I’m frightened. I’m scared to leave and I’m scared to stay.”

“Let me help you.”

“Killian.”

“I want to help you,” he says again, taking her hand in his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Let me help.”

“How?” Emma thinks the tone of her voice must convey the level of hopelessness she feels.

“However I can, whatever you need. If you want to stay, I’ll stay; I’ll keep you safe. If you want to go, come with me.”

She scoffs, but feels her heart begin to race. It isn’t as if she hasn't considered this fleetingly. In fact, she’s considered it seriously. She’s never been happy with her husband, and Killian has always posed as a possibility for escape. When she met him shortly after she miscarried, she didn’t know he would be so fundamental in dragging her out of the hole of dark sadness she had buried herself in. She hasn't given herself the freedom to truly consider being with him until now. Now that he’s offered.

“I’m scared,” she whispers into the loud darkness of the tavern. She’s seen him threaten other patrons and drink in excess and flirt endlessly with other lasses, and a part of her has always felt unsure of him. But in this moment, and over the last several hours when he proved himself to be someone who truly cares for her, she’s more certain than she’s ever been. She’s terrified, but he makes the feeling melt away when he slips closer and touches her aching cheek once again.

“All I want is your safety and happiness, Emma. I’ll do whatever I can to ensure that, whether you think that’s going back to him or leaving.” The intensity of his stare intimidates her. She doesn't miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he suggests that she may want to go back to her violent husband.

“I don’t want to go back to him,” she tells him with certainty. “I thought I had a responsibility to stay, but… you were right, about me not deserving this. He said I did, but I think that isn’t true.”

“Of course it isn’t true,” he breathes out, drawing his brows close together and giving her a pained look, shaking his head.

“I want to leave,” she finally admits, both to him and to herself through tears. “I want to go.”

“I want to help you.”

“Okay.”

~~~~

Ruby lets her leave her shift early. She says again that she deserves it for coming in early, although Emma hardly did a thing when she was here all day.

Emma lets Killian lead her back to his ship, and on her way, now that she’s of sound mind, she sees a trail of blood droplets in the streets and on the gangplank and knows it must be from her. She had no idea how badly she had been bleeding last night, and wonders what would have happened to her if he hadn’t stopped Walsh in his tracks and then expertly cared for her wounds.

When they arrive on the ship, his first mate looks confused and asks his captain what’s going on. Killian responds menacingly, telling him that he requires privacy and brushing aside him to lead her down into the captain’s quarters once more.

Being here now feels different. Things between them feel solidified, and she feels such joy at the prospect of being with him on their journey through realms.

He sits her down gently on his chair and she feels special, powerful, sitting in the captain’s throne. She looks over his maps and logs and wonders what sort of adventures he’s been up to aside from the few he’s told her about. She sees the journal of his treks and longs to pour over it.

Killian laughs lightly as he walks back over to her with two glasses and a bottle of rum. “Anywhere you’d like, Swan,” he says, gesturing to the map she was peeling over as he starts to pour.

“Anywhere?”

“Aye, I’ll set a course and bring you wherever you please so you can start a new life. You won't fall into harm's way while you’re in my charge and I can drop you safely if you like.”

Something has just shifted between them, a flame sparking in her mind in response to his words, and she realizes what a fool she’s been.

All this time, she thought he was bringing her along with him on his pirating adventures. She thought he meant to make a life with her. In reality, he simply means to transport her and drop her off, likely never to see her again.

She thought for certain that he had felt as she has since they met. That he wanted to be with her, now that she’d made her choice. She didn’t even consider the possibility of him simply doing this to help her, then leaving her behind to continue his life of piracy.

“Oh,” she says weakly, making to stand from his chair. She feels her heart racing faster and faster as her hopes are dashed to further disappointment.

“Swan?”

“I don't— um, I don't have any idea.” Her eyes swell with tears once again, she’s unsure if she could even count how many times this has happened in the last day.

“Well sit, love, we can find a place for you and begin plotting the course tonight.”

“I don’t know.” She feels so pathetic, letting herself cry in front of him again after he’s made it clear that he has no desire to be with her as she thought he had. She worries over her lip as her breathing quickens and she holds back a sob as he stands too, forcing her to turn back towards him.

“Swan, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she chokes. His gentle hand moves to wipe the tear that has fallen onto her bruised cheek and she flinches.

“Love,” he starts, and her heart clenches at the name that she thought meant more than it does. “Tell me what’s happened here.”

He’s so tender with her. She feels more tears falling at the realization that she isn’t anything special. He’s likely been treating all of the women he’s come across the very same way. A very small part of her throughout the months of knowing him thought that he was sending away the loose women who chased him for her, but she knows now that he likely enjoyed their company.

The thought of running has terrified her since she met her husband. She never wanted to be with him, married him out of obligation, but she knew she couldn’t leave him and live here on her own. He was far too dangerous, she’s learned. But the thought of leaving with Killian gave her strength. Not only because he could provide her with an escape, but because she knows how fiercely he protects that which he loves. She simply thought that may have been her.

“I’m fine, I just,” she chokes again. “I thought…”

She can’t find it in herself to get the words out. She feels so foolish in this moment that admitting to him what she thought was between them makes her stomach churn. All at once, she allowed herself to finally feel the love she harbors for him, only for it to be ripped from her grasp. As he leans down close to her and gently kisses the sore flesh of her battered cheek, she cries harder. “Thought what, darling? You can tell me anything.”

She may have believed him yesterday, or last night, or even this morning, but now she knows this isn’t true. He doesn't truly feel anything for her, only cares enough to help her flee her abusive home life. “Nothing,” she settles on.

He sighs, kissing her sore skin once more just over the faint bruise before he laces his fingers up through her hair and pulls her head close to his, their foreheads touching softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips so close to brushing hers that she feels another sob wracking her. “I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Emma. Whatever that means to you, I want to give you joy and security and contentment. Please just tell me how. Please tell me what’s caused you such anguish just now so I can fix it.”

She sniffles, his speech giving her the strength and ferocity to respond in truth. “I would’ve been content to be with you. I don’t want to be dropped off at some foreign realm by myself, I need you, you dullard.” She pushes herself away from him, angry now for reasons she can’t explain to herself, and makes for the door. He follows closely behind, but not so closely that he startles her.

“Bloody hell, Emma, stop!” he says, placing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it but moving away from her quickly. Memories of the night before flood her again and she’s glad to have him away from her as she considers the way that Walsh caged her against the wall and forced her to be still.

“What?!” she demands loudly.

“I told you I want your happiness! I would put whatever you want above anything that I could ever desire, no matter the pain it would cause me to let you go, you maddening woman. Bloody hell,” he shakes his head, “are you honestly daft enough to believe that I wouldn’t happily live out the rest of my days with you by my side?”

“What?”

“I love you, you absolutely barmy thing,” he says frustratedly, turning from her and moving towards the desk to take a swig of his rum.

“What?” she asks again.

“If you’d wanted me to drop you in some realm and leave you be, I would have, but it would have killed me,” he tells her through his glass, tossing back another sip.

“You love me?”

He sighs deeply, sinking into the chair that he likely saves for his crew. He still isn’t looking at her, choosing instead to stare down into the dark liquid in his glass as he nods and says, “aye.”

She’s calm. The turbulence of her emotions in the last ten minutes has taken its toll on her and she thinks she can do nothing but walk back to the chair she had left and take her own glass in her hand. She intakes a breath, choking the rum down and feeling it slide over her burning throat.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally says. His voice is nearly inaudible in the quiet room, drowned out by the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. She finally cocks her head and looks at him, confused and begging for an explanation for his words. “You’re in a tough stop, lass. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not in a tough spot.”

“You only left your husband this morning. I’m perceptive enough to know that me telling you how I feel now is far too convenient. I don’t wish to manipulate you.”

She chuckles, leaning back in the chair to make herself comfortable. “I left a loveless marriage and a violent home this morning. I had left my husband the moment I met you,” she tells him contently.

“What?”

“Killian, I never loved him; I told you we only got married because I was with child.” He appears stunned, looking at her with his jaw slacked open and his tumblr of rum likely close to falling from his hand. “As soon as I met you, anything that I ever could have felt for him was just… gone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. And I thought, since I’d finally left him and you were taking me to your ship to look at maps and make charts, that we were going to run off together, leave all this behind, traipse around a pillage for a living,” she laughs, as does he, “but you said you would bring me somewhere and drop me off, and I thought you must not have felt as I do.”

“As you do?”

He sits up in his chair, as does she, and they lean as close as they can to one another across the oak desk. “I love you,” she says to him now that she’s finally able.

Killian stands from his chair with haste, nearly knocking it onto the floor, and walks to her swiftly, leaning down to take her face in his hands and kissing her with such fervor that she loses her breath. His strong hands hold her firmly, grounding her through her torment of the last few hours and carrying her home. His lips massage hers with a gentle passion that she’s never felt before; not from any man and not from her husband.

He pulls her closer, one hand remaining in her hair and the other trailing down her waist to drag her body up towards his. She lets out a soft whimpering moan as his tongue traces along her bottom lip, the heat erupting in the pit of her stomach making her clench her thighs together as she stands, seeking to be as close to him as possible. The slight throbbing she feels against her leg through his tight leather britches heats her cheeks, to the point that she doesn't even feel the ache of her bruise anymore.

“Emma,” he breathes into her mouth. “Thank the gods.”

She giggles lightly and bites playfully on his lip, drawing a low growl from his throat before he pounces on her again, tugging her impossibly closer to him. She drags her hands up along his chest, enjoying the feel of friction against her palms as she grazes the hair covering his firm skin, and she lets her tongue glide against his again until she feels the fire in her belly roaring.

“I want you,” she says boldly against his mouth, and he groans again, turning her around and hoisting her up onto the desk so that he can rest his hips between her knees. “I want you so much, Killian, I love you.”

“Gods above, I love you,” he bites out as his hands find her rear and tug her even closer to him so that she’s perched on the edge of the surface and grinding her hips against his. “I want you so badly I can scarcely breathe.”

“That’s because we’re kissing.”

He laughs against her mouth, kissing her chastely once before pulling away. “You always have such high spirits, love. It makes me feel so joyful to be around you.”

As she looks into his eyes, she sees that he means it— that he’s meant everything he’s said tonight.

“We can’t both be broody, can we? The world can only handle so many brooding pirates.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he answers softly, biting his own bottom lip as his eyes trail to hers. “Do you consider yourself a pirate, then? Does that mean you’re coming along with me?”

“Of course it does, you fool. There’s hardly anything keeping me here.”

He smiles, a sweet, innocent thing as his eyes light up and make him look a decade younger. “Then we shall leave come sunrise, my love.”

She returns his grin at the prospect of leaving this awful harborside town and her wretched excuse for a husband. A pang of sadness strikes at the thought of leaving Ruby and Granny, the only family she’s ever known, but she thinks she may be able to convince Killian to bring her back for a visit.

“We’ll have to find a way to pass the time until sunrise, then, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t find plotting courses and studying maps to be entertaining?”

“Why should I? Isn’t that why I have you?”

“That’s the only reason?”

She drags her hands up his chest again, sneaking under his vest at his shoulders and then sliding up into his thick hair. “I suppose you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

His mouth plunders hers once more, kissing her with a strong mixture of love and passion and animalistic desire. She hasn't felt so turned on from just a kiss in her entire life, and the way that his hands roam her covered body and his tongue dances through her mouth has her panting within mere moments.

A hand slides under her dress and for a moment, she freezes, remembering the man in the alley who had attempted the same motion. He falters at her obvious stuttering, pulling back and placing a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry, love. You alright?” She nods her forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly. “I’m… I feel safe,” she tells him with a soft smile.

He kisses her again, soft and sweet. “That all I want, Swan,” he tells her.

“I love you,” she whispers, her cheeks flaming as she’s finally able to say it aloud.

He kisses her again, holding her so closely that her chest feels tight, but it feels good. It feels as though he’s holding her together. “I love you.”

His hand slips under her skirt again, slower now, and she feels relaxed at the feeling of his skin against hers. She hooks her ankles together around his waist and squeezes him closer to her, loving the feeling of his hips pressed against her own. In response to her movements, his hands slip under her rear and he lifts her easily, resting her weight against him as he walks them through the room.

“You’re certain?” He asks her as he steps slowly towards his bunk with her in his arms.

“Yes,” she tells him, continuing to kiss him through her words. “More certain than I’ve ever been.”

“Gods,” he murmurs, dropping her on her back against the mattress and taking in the sight of her laying before him as she blushes.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” she asks innocently.

He scoffs out a laugh, leaning in close to her while resting his body weight against hers comfortingly. “Each time you call me that, it goes straight to my cock.”

She laughs as her blush deepens, reaching her hands back up into his hair and pulling him back down to her for another kiss. “Show me,” she finally says.

He bites her lip in response, groaning into her mouth again and soothing it with a soft lick of his sinful tongue. “You’re a bloody siren,” he tells her as his hands wander.

“Undress me, Captain,” she insists in a whisper, taking the reins as she’s driven by her need for him.

Hips lips trail down her neck, biting and licking over her tender skin, but he’s careful around the injured skin above her breast. “Gladly” he mumbles against her flesh.

His hands wander farther down her body, meeting her eyes with his to ask permission as he reaches towards her laces and loosens them before he tugs her heavy dress down and tosses it to the floor with a soft thud. She revels in the feeling of his fingers finally meeting her skin as he pulls at her shift, gently grazing along her ribs while his lips continue to work along her neck.

She glides her own hands down his front, scraping her nails along the coarse hair of his chest until she reaches the fastened buttons. He groans again as she tucks her hands into his silky top and tugs at his buttons, forcing them to pop open and sending a few to the ground in a clatter.

“Minx,” he says, dragging his mouth along the side of her jaw until he reaches her earlobe and nibbles.

Her hands play with the hair on his stomach, desperate to slide lower into his britches and discover where the trail leads, but his own fingers distract her. They’ve found their way to the apex of her bare thigh, ghosting dangerously close to the most sensitive part of her that’s throbbing for him. “Please,” she begs breathlessly when his fingers threaten to dip into the flood of arousal between her thighs. “Touch me.”

“It would be,” he starts, sliding his fingers through her folds torturously slowly, “my pleasure.”

The pressure that he finally applies to her clit gives her a start, squeezing her legs around his hand. “Relax, darling,” he hums against her collarbone, dragging his mouth down to her right breast, carefully staying away from the left, a licking  lightly over her nipple. “You’re so tense. You’re alright.”

She nods against the pillow, plunging her fingers into his hair and pulling him up so she can see his face. She stares into his ocean blue eyes and she knows she’s safe. She’s home. “I love you,” she whispers into the night.

He restarts his movements against her, leaning down to press gentle kisses just above her tattered heart, the very one he’s put back together. “I love you, Emma,” he says as he works her up, higher and higher. She’s a writhing mess under his weight, moaning and whimpering at each move of his expert fingers. His mouth finds its way back to her hardened nipple, licking and sucking at it until themixture of sensations threaten to end her. She feels him rutting his hips against her thigh as he moves her toward her release, and the hardness against her only serves to excite her more for the main event. As he whispers sinful praise into her skin, his fingers dance inside her and his thumb rubs tight circles over her until she shatters.

He carries her through it, kissing his way up her chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. Their lips meet chastely, then his travel up her face to her ear and he whispers, “good girl.”

His words make her clench harder around his fingers before he slides them out of her and sucks them into his mouth, cleaning them with a wicked smirk on his face and humming appreciatively. “I’d love a better taste.”

“Would you please fuck me now, captain?” she asks with an innocent lilt in her voice that she thinks may drive him mad based on the way his breath catches. “You can have a taste next time.”

He thrusts his leather-covered hips against hers, making each of them groan as she reaches her fingers down to the laces hastily. She tugs them loose, pulling on his trousers so that his rear is almost exposed before he hoists himself up and removes them altogether.

He’s aligning himself with her in an instant, tracing his cock along her wet folds and touching his forehead to hers before he plunges inside. She didn’t get a look at him once his trousers were off, but she doesn't need to see to know that he’s well endowed. The stretch she feels in response to him is close to being too much, but when he pulls out slightly and slides back in, she revels in it, planting her feel firmly on the mattress and curling her toes into it.

“Gods, Killian,” she whimpers, pulling his head impossibly closer to hers as she links her fingers back into his hair.

“Bloody hell, you’re impeccable. You feel so perfect around me.”

She nods against his forehead before he moves to kiss her neck, thrusting in and out of her with gentle force that drives her mad. “So good, Killian, don’t stop.”

He grunts as he thrusts some more as she squeezes around him, seeking more friction and tilting her hips slightly to feel the pressure of his pelvis against her clit. She can feel every detail of his cock gliding against her walls and it’s maddening. He holds her hips higher in the air against him before his hands stroke down her thighs and lift her knees. One leg slides higher along his hip and the other slips over his shoulder, increasing the depth of his thrusts, before his thumb finds her clit once more and presses gentle and firm circles until her mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

It doesn't take either of them long, their yearning for one another the driving force behind their arousal. “Are you close?” he asks, kissing her deeply as she nods against his mouth.

“Please don’t stop, Killian, that feels so good, don't stop,” she begs.

“I won’t, I promise. Come for me, Emma.”

He quickens his thrusts and his movements on her clit as she squeezes her fingers around his hair and her walls against his cock. She comes with a shout, louder and higher pitched than she may have ever heard from her own mouth. When he finally spills himself into her, the sensation of him throbbing inside her simply intensifies her feelings as she continues to ride out her high.

He stills, both of them panting heavily as his hands roam her body slowly and mindlessly. As they come down together, he continues to press soft kisses against her neck and whisper loving praise into her ear. Her foot starts to go numb atop his shoulder the longer they stay stunned in their places, but she can’t find it in herself to care enough to move. Emma feels her eyes drifting shut at the feeling of his weight firmly upon her, reaching his goal of making her feel safe and happy and loved.

Her leg falls from his shoulder as finally slips out of her, and she pouts up at him playfully, dragging a smile from his lips as he stands to reach for a cloth to clean up. He hands her one as well, kissing her forehead before tossing them away and joining her back in bed. He holds her back to his front, tightly tucking her in close to him and kissing her head, whispering, “sleep now, my love. You’re safe and you’re loved, and come morning we’ll be off to whatever realm you desire.”

She slips blissfully to sleep, dreaming of the adventure she craves and of the man she loves.

~~~~

She wakes just before the sun, alone, the feeling of the cool sheets beside her setting stones in the pit of her stomach. She takes in a breath quickly, sitting up in bed, disoriented, when she hears his deep voice.

“Morning, darling,” he says to her from his desk. She sighs in relief, collapsing back onto the pillow and grinning as she shuts her eyes against the slowly rising sun.

“Come back to bed,” she murmurs into the dimly lit room.

He chuckles. “Though I’d love to spend the rest of my days in bed with you, I promised my lady love I’d whisk her away come sunrise, and to do that, one must first plot a course.”

“If I promise to do it later, will you come back to bed now?” she asks as she rolls to her side to look at him.

He laughs aloud once more, writing down one more detail before standing and walking to her to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Are you rather good at charting, Swan? I thought you said it was boring.”

She giggles, reaching her hands up to link her fingers around the back of his neck. “No, I said I'd rather do other things. But I am a fast learner.”

“You are a rather shrewd thing, aren't you?”

Emma hums in agreement, kissing him once more. “I think you’re the only one who’s noticed.”

“That isn’t true, love.” He emphasizes with a kiss. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“After,” she growls, pulling him lower until his weight rests on hers. “Would you like to go back to your charts, or is there, perhaps, something else you’d rather work on?”

He nips at her bottom lip playfully, running his hand up along her waist until he can squeeze her bare breast. “I’ve just finished the charts, darling,” he tells her as he licks along her jaw. “Let me simply bring them to Mr. Smee and I’m yours for the day.”

“Only for today?”

“Today and every day for as long as I live, my love.”

And so he was.

~~~~

~~~~

[writtentodeath]

What would y’all think if I posted a short story I wrote in... it was march, actually. hmm... yes? no? 

Too bad Imma do it anyway

Ren looked up at the colossal tree. Even its lower limbs scraped against the purple sky, and the solitary beacon that lit the planet shone from the top-- a place so high, so perilously close to the Sleeping Mother of All, that even when it dimmed, no one dared try and scale it.

It dimmed every twelve hours, leaving enough time for darkness to creep into corners before shining just as brightly as ever.

But something was wrong. It dimmed at its usual hour, but never brightened again.

And now Ren stands at the foot of the giant, staring up into the peaks of a monstrous creature.

No one had ever climbed it. No one knew what was up there.

The tree is too tall to climb, Ren thought. That’s why the Errants never reached the top-- they all died before they got there. 

But I… I don’t have a choice. I have to reach the top.

Ren smiled, a hesitant curve to his lips. 

And I won’t have to climb, he thought.

He turned, looking back at the cliff overlooking the valley. Many had tried to jump from there and glide to the tree, but if any had survived long enough to read the tree, they soon perished. 

A minute later, he was at the top. From this height, he could see various piles of bones scattered around the tree.

I might as well try it, he figured. 

He took off running towards the edge.

Oh, I hate myself so much right now, he thought, and leapt off the cliff.

He falls. His heart goes kathunk. His back half left his front half behind, his spine staying at the top along with his resolve. Ground. Green. Ground. Sky.

Kathunk. 

His lungs stop. 

Kathunk. 

Wings, blue as the ocean, snap out behind him, and he painfully jerks into a slower fall.

A few strong beats and he’s back in the sky, having reclaimed the various portions of his body that he’d lost. Back, stomach, lungs… all there. Suddenly the fear left, and the wind in his hair and the cold in his throat was everything. He was weightless. He was…

Free. So free. 

Tree. Light. Mission. Urgent. Urgent. Impending death.

Kai. 

His vision cleared. Kai needed his help. He would die if Ren failed.

I won’t fail you, he promised. Kai couldn’t hear him, but he would know. Kai would know.

He soared.

The immense wood grew even larger the closer he flew to the tree, pulsing streaks of color arcing up the trunk. He circled around the tree a few times, surveying the ground far below. He risked a glance up.

Off, off into the far distant darkness of swirling indigoes and purple, out stretched the branches of the tree, beating with color, spreading life to even the farthest reaches of the universe. They stretched beyond the light that gave life to his small rock. 

The light that gave life to Kai. 

The light that was barely lit at all, and soon…

Ren began the long ascent.

As he flew, racing upward along with the colored streaks on the trunk, he started to see faces in the wood, beings, spirits from times long past, lost in the sap and the rings of the tree.

The people, he realized, the ache vanishing from his shoulders for a moment. It’s the people that fuel the tree, make it grow. Layers of lives upon lives, all continuing on in the tree. 

But if people are what makes it grow, what could make a light shine that brightly, and for so long? And how could someone as inconsequential as him possibly do anything to fix it?

He pushed harder on the downbeat of his wings, urging himself to go higher. Higher. Aching, higher.

I’ll find a way. I must. For Zia, Fenwick. 

For Kai.

His face would not join the spirits of the tree, he vowed. Not for a long time. No one else would suffer from whatever blight plagued the tree.

He flew higher, the ground long lost in the clouds.

Soon, he thought. Just a little longer, and I’ll get there.

He reached the first branch.

Rested. Continued. Just as he felt he couldn’t bear it anymore, he reached the second branch.

Rested. Continued.

Twelfth branch.

Fifteenth branch.

Thirty-second branch.

As he passed more and more, the branches grew closer together, making the flying a bit easier.

If there were a night, two would have passed by now. But with the only light steadily dimming, days and nights no longer existed. Just a long, long dusk.

Ren wanted to see again. To have light. To have life.

He flew. Now he circled back and forth up the tree, crawling up in tiny increments. It was agonizing, but it saved what little energy he had left.

Flap. Glide. Flap. Glide.

On. And on. And on. And on. And on. And on. And on. And on. And on. And on. Andonnandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandon.

Until

                He  

                              Reached

                                           The

                                                       Top.

Well, the start of the top. Where the main trunk stopped and the branches kept going, forming a basin surrounded by living towers.

He could see the light.

In the very center of the mesa stood a tree.

Miniscule, compared to what it grew upon.

A regular tree. A twisting brown trunk, knots and gnarls and branches-- but a deceptively beautiful covering of light pink blossoms encircled by dark blue leaves. From the very lowest branch hung a cage the size of Ren’s head.

He stumbled forward, his wings dragging on the ground behind him.

Inside the cage, a tiny figure no longer than his pinky lay prone on the ground, its body glowing brightly, but slowly and surely fading. It was tiny, and fairly humanoid, as far as he could tell. It didn’t look like it had any clothing, but it didn’t seem naked, either.

“Hello?” Ren said. He wondered if it could hear him. He wondered if it would care.

“Hello? “ he said again. “Do you need help?”

The creature stirred. Then it spoke. 

The sound was totally unfamiliar to Ren, and yet still so similar to something that he couldn’t place. He felt like he should understand it immediately, but it couldn’t-- it seemed so simple but something about the sound was just off. 

It stopped.

“H-hello?” He tried again.

“H-hello?” the creature responded. “Hello. Hello. Do you need help? Do you need help?” it muttered something to itself in the melodic language from before and cackled.

“I’m here to help you,” Ren said. “My name is Ren.”

“Ren, Ren,” it muttered. It glowed a little brighter. “Hello, Ren.” 

He tentatively touched one of the bars of the cage.  The creature grabbed his fingers, sending a jolt of -something- coursing up his arm. It released him, muttering again, but glowing brighter.

“Help, yes, help. Help for me, but not for me, for them, for those little birds pretending, always pretending. Never for me, no no no. Never ever ever for me.”

“How do I help you?” Ren asked. “What makes you bright?”

The creature cackled again. “Oh, it’s ever so simple. Just let me out. Out, out, to learn the names. Yours is Ren. His is Kai. Names, names names.”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? Nothing else?”

“No,” the creature snapped. It continued muttering.

“Why are you in a cage in the first place?” he asked. 

It stopped muttering. “They,” it hissed, “locked me up because they wanted to help me. But they didn’t want to help me, no, no, no. They only helped them. All about them. Names, names. Von, Tysha, Reming. Old names. Used up.”

“What will you do if I let you out?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t hurt anything. Just learn, learn, learn the names. Yours is Ren.”

Ren looked at the miniscule creature. Something about it made him want to walk away and forget about it, but then again… the whole planet depended on this little creature.

Ren opened the door.

Leathery black wings engulfed the creature. With a step it reclaimed its freedom, zooming away from Ren so quickly he barely had a moment before it receded into a faint dot in the distance.

And everything went black.

Ren stood still, trying to get his bearings. After a minute, he decided it was useless and began stumbling around blindly. He could faintly make out the silhouette of the smaller tree… wait. Where was the light coming from.

He walked past the tree, tripping over dips and curves in the wood. There, in the very center of the tree was a hole, just big enough for someone to fit into. It looked like a glowing puddle. He approached it cautiously. As he got closer, he could see where the light came from-- inside the tree itself. A circular hole went right through the center of the tree, and inside the tree glowed, though not nearly bright enough to provide light to the planet.

Ren crept to the edge and looked in.

Down, down, farther down than he had flown, the light burned. It was blinding. He couldn’t tell where it ended. 

If I could capture some of this light, trap it in the cage, he thought, it would light the whole planet. But how?

I have wings, he thought. I could fly in.

It’s too small for flying, he thought, scrapping the idea. The only way down was to jump.

The sick memory of his brief free fall before raced through his gut. His stomach churned.

There has to be a different way, he thought, but he knew better. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t know how, but-- well, he was standing on the oldest, biggest creature on the planet, maybe the whole galaxy.

It knew. He knew.

He looked up at the sky. He could see everything. Galaxies, nebulas, planets moving around stars and moons moving around them. He saw the colored, pulsing branches of the tree in the farthest corners, he saw flocks of wake angels with a trail of red following their path, crystalline creatures building themselves cities out of sounds, planets made of diamond where glass rain falls sideways, comets whizzing across space leaving yellow tracks behind the,. He could see it all.

A solitary tear leaked out the corner of his eye, tracing a path down his cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Kai,” he whispered. “I can’t fail you, but I can’t keep my promise, either.”

He remembered Kai’s face the last time they saw each other, right before he left-- Kai laughed, his face breaking into a smile that could have lit the world all by itself.

Ren swallowed. A lump welled up in his throat. 

“I’ll come back,” he promised Fenwick and Zia, hugging them. “Be safe,” they said.

He turned to Kai then, tears in both of their eyes. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone,” he managed. “Somebody has to save the world.”

Kai wrapped his arms around Ren, giving him a quick kiss. “Just come back.”

Ren shook his head, bringing the sky back into focus. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more.

He jumped. And fell.

After a few hours, it didn’t even feel like falling anymore, just floating in a sea of infinite gold.

He fell.

And fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. And fell. And fellandfelland fellandfellandfellandfellandfellandfellandfellandfellandfell. 

Then he stopped falling, and plunged into a thick, viscous, amber mass of liquid.

It filled his throat. Bound his arms. Burned his eyes. It permeated every cut, every crevice his body had, soothing and burning all at once.

He thrashes. Everything is golden, he can’t tell which way is up, he can’t see, he can’t breathe he can’t move he can’t breathe he can’t hear he can’t breathe he can’t think he can’t breathe he can’t he can’t can’t can’t

Darkness. 

Warmth. 

Afterlife is very warm, Ren thinks. So very dark and warm. 

He opens his eyes. 

Light.

The afterlife is very light, Ren thinks. But not as light as before.

An odd rushing sensation shivers down his neck, calling up memories of before.

I have a neck, Ren realizes. And a body. And that feeling… ascension. I’m going up. 

He looks around. The cylindrical space is much, much bigger, but unmistakable. He is inside the tree again. And he is going up.

I’m not dead.

How long he has been going up, he has no idea, but the sky is fast approaching.

He reaches the surface. The land is bright again.

I did it, he thinks. I did it. I did it!

He looks down at his body, which glows with the intensity of suns. 

I am it, he thinks. And I’m small. As small as that creature was. But why--

It hits him: a wave of nausea, of irresistible understanding. Names shoot through his mind like bullets, sharp and deadly fast, shredding his thoughts.

Kai. 

The carnage fades into the background. 

Kai. Needs my help.

Ren struggles over to the cage, which now looks large and foreboding. He grasps the side, hauling himself in. everything in his mind screams at him to leave, to fly away as fast as his wings will carry him.

But he wouldn’t leave, not as long as people were counting on him. He is the light now. He won. He saved everyone.

Just not himself.

And that’s okay, he thinks.

He looks up at the stars. He can barely see any through the leaves and his own brightness.

Oh, well, he thinks. It’s worth it.

He takes a breath. 

And shuts the door.

[lukeios]

The plot holes of Eldarya

Hello wonderful people of Eldarya fandom! Along with some other players we have prepared a little something for you: The list of all the plot holes in the first season of Eldarya. 

The list has over 2000 words in total. I am so, so proud of us and I would love to give special thanks to @aokane-eldarya who wrote probably over 1/3 of this by herself! Everyone who participated is tagged, so make sure you check out their blogs! 

And of course, before we start: this is not an attack on Beemoov - it’s merely a critic of their writers. More under the cut. 

@kyriechristeeleison

- Chrome surviving Leiftan's attack. Leiftan isn't an amateur killer and wouldn't let him stay alive.

- Game said Leiftan never kills children and yet the next episode he tries to kill Chrome.

- Chrome saying he contacted Leiftan, event though the other episode informed us he "summoned" him. 

@cintanna-rants

- A plot hole between Valkyon's spin-off and the game. In the spin-off, he dreams about his mother even though in the game he couldn't have seen her at that point. 

- During the Leiftan & Erika vs Lance fight in the last chapter, Lance acts like he thinks Erika is just a simple human, yet in chapter 26 he fainted precisely because he discovered she was an aengel and thought he knew why Leiftan wanted her.

- Leiftan “sacrifices” to tell Valkyon about Lance’s weakness (a neck injury). None of this is mentioned in the last battle nor ever again. Why did Leiftan sacrifice for then? What was the point of making him betray his pact with Lance and risk his life if that info doesn’t matter? 

@aokane-eldarya

- Leiftan threatens Lance to kill him, as well as all the other members of his race, if he hurts Erika: not only does he do nothing when Lance kidnaps Erika (while we have the proof in episode 30 that Leiftan is still able to subdue Lance), but Valkyon is the only other dragon in existence.

- By extension, he didn't react as expected (if we refer to his personality) to the story of the potion.

- Leiftan who is the demon of the crystal: he was able to act normally while having a part of his mind threatening the Oracle, which is absurd (nonrespect of the principle of the cost of use of magic ). During his imprisonment, Miiko talks about the fact that the corruption stopped suddenly and Leif explains that he stopped because Erika suffered from it. If Leiftan had had the power to stop the corruption caused by the Naytili crystal (and therefore, by someone other than him), he would have done it immediately since he knew from the start why she was suffering. In any case, it was not Leiftan who stopped corruption, it was the use of the Fenghuang flute.

- Leiftan tells Erika that he did it all for her. But the fact is that he started acting before Erika arrived on Eldarya and she doesn't think it's strange. 

- In the spin-off, Leiftan says he will respect that Erika doesn't follow him, suggesting that he will pursue his goal. In the end, as soon as Erika holds it against him, he decides to abandon his projects and accept his "mistakes". The funny thing is that it's been weeks, even months that we know what Erika thinks, he could have given up before.

- Episode 30, the "Lance VS Erika and Leiftan" confrontation. The writing suggests that Lance doesn't know Erika's race, which is wrong. It will also be noted that Lance didn't think of using the dragon spell that had allowed him to imprison Leiftan the time he came to destroy the crystal.

- In episode 15, the history teacher tells us that the daemons refused to sacrifice themselves.

- Then thanks to Fafnir, we learn that, in reality, Lilith and her supporters were for the sacrifice, Dagon and his supporters were against; they killed each other.

- Episode 30, Erika says that she and Leif must sacrifice themselves because their ancestors refused to sacrifice themselves.

- It will also be noted that hundreds of dragons sacrificed themselves for the Blue Sacrifice, but that it lacked just the equivalent of a daemon / aengel for the vegetables to be nutritious.

- Erika who doesn't remember that Dagon was one of the daemons invoked by Naytili

- Leiftan had a redemption. When he died, there was a white feather. Leiftan should have fought with his angelic aspect and not only with his demonic aspect.

- Depending on the situation, the terms aengel and daemon are used either to denote the same thing or to denote two different things.

- Lance refers to Erika and Leiftan by saying "the aengel and the daemon", even when Erika says to her "I am a daemon".

- Ezarel fights with a foil, a training weapon that cannot hurt. He uses it as thrusting and cutting weapon whereas it is only a thrusting weapon.

- The Guard sends civilians to unprotected villages; Lance just had to go there to use them as leverage.

- Lance, who is experienced, attacks by arriving by sea, a disadvantageous position because exposed, to arrive on a beach in a basin with only one narrow exit, with then the optic of crossing a meadow also exposed. The Guard decided it would be funnier if it got stuck on the beach itself.

- Lance is ready to negotiate: he agrees to allow the Guard to evacuate the faerys on Earth (The same faerys he wants to destroy). The famous faerys which are not there because evacuated in the villages. It will also be noted that suddenly the total population of Eldarya is reduced to only the inhabitants of the Guard.

- Lance donated ingredients for two gates: two gates to evacuate hundreds of people. I thought it was too expensive per person.

- Lance sent Enthraa, a mermaid who can't get out of the water, to kill Erika and Miiko ; Erika and Miiko thought it would be a good idea to be within the range of Enthraa.

- In episode 30, the hamadryads meet around the ancient tree of Yvoni. The same tree that had burned and the remains of which had been removed.

- One day, Leiftan and Lance released a monster who swallowed all the knowledge of the library. We still don't know why.

- Everyone knows that the dragons have sacrificed themselves. Even Lance. It was while reading books in the library that his hatred developed, suggesting that there is information that we don't have about the Blue Sacrifice. We still don't know this info: Lance just seems to blame the faeries for letting the dragons sacrifice themselves, nothing else.

- How did Lance and Leiftan become partners? We don't know. Why does Leif say that without him Lance is nothing? We don't know.

- How did Ykhar know that Leiftan was a traitor? Where did the hostage go?

- Ykhar and Chrome who tell an experienced killer that they are going to report him.

- Chrome who says that Leiftan manipulated him to join him whereas, in a previous episode, Leiftan reminds Chrome that it was he who called him.

- Some members of the Guard speak several languages, but no one can read the instructions on a package of pasta. And since Erika seems to have no idea where the language is located, it must be a package of alien pasta.

- Ewelein was to give us a gift. We are still waiting.

- The faerys had recent humans books, like Twilight. Ykhar didn't know what television was: yet, her favorite book was Barjavel's " The Night of Time", in which we talk about television.

- Oluhua said that it was not possible to use Leiftan's blood to transfuse Feng Zifu, without explaining why. She was not on Leiftan's list of traitors, so we still don't know what Oluhua knows.

- Miiko announces to us that there is a ritual acting as a lie detector. She must have forgotten its existence when she had to find the traitors of the Guard.

- Erika learned to understand the familiars. She quickly forgot about it.

- Erika is described as a high school student in the CGU. In the story, she is around 23-24 years old since she finished her studies.

- the Guard claimed to be able to detect dragons. Lance and Valkyon are proof that this is not true.

-  Nevra, as a vampire, is able to smell blood from a small cut. Her sister was unable to smell the blood in Ykhar’s room.

@lukeios

- (Death TW) Ykhar's death and her body looking pale after 2-3 days in the room. Total disregard for research. The body should be in stage 2 of decomposition.  

- The clothing and armors. Dressing a warrior into an armor that shows stomach - the most vulnerable part of the body - is somehow inappropriate, even for a fantasy setting. If they had other clothing used for battles OR the game would be pure fanservice - it would be ok.

- For some reason Lance's sword from The winter illustration seems like too much. It looks too broad, like a piece of a metal wall. It doesn't seem like it would be useful in a fight - it seems way too hard to use that thing than it would be necessary. Mind you - if something like this is happening in a fantasy setting, an explanation is mandatory. Is the sword extremely light? Is it made of a material that is changing shape? This point isn't exactly only about the sword. Beemoov keeps on throwing things at us without a proper explanation and if the explanation is even present, it's not explored enough. 

- Our pet is killed in episode 30. Does it change anything in the page section of pets? Is the exploration frozen? I don't think so. 

@waywardpeachworld

- Stealing food from Earth for many years without a way to preserve it. Not making a connection with any humans because "they are evil".

- Miiko told the MC there are humans in Eldarya who are searching for her. Where did they go?

- The potion fiasco. What happened to all the photos of the MC? Aren't her parents wondering "who is this girl who looks like us?" in the albums?   (according to an anon, the potion was able to erase any proof of her existence on Earth. No photos were left. Thanks, Anon! )

-They can make very powerful potions that literally erase somebody from the memory of everyone who had known them in a different realm but still cannot make a “potion” to preserve the crops they steal. 

- Ez's crimes were mentioned once and never again. This information seemed too important to just be left alone.

@glassmoonfortuneteller

- How at the beginning of the game, they mentioned us several times Erika’s special eye color (purple with golden light) and how this was an important clue to know what kind of faelienne she is. It’s never mentioned again even after we found out she’s an aengel. Apparently it wasn’t that relevant.

- How the guard has a portal to Earth near the HQ facilities but Erika never seemed interested in it to go and see it for herself since she arrived at Eldarya, especially since she was determined to know everything about the portals when she still had hope of going back to her world during the first episodes.

- When Lance kidnapped Erika, she finds out Enthraa is a traitor and that she’s working for him. After she’s rescued and goes back to the HQ, she doesn’t say this to the other members. They found out about it only when Enthraa ambushed Erika and Miiko in later episodes and gets killed.

- How food was rationed and limited at the beginning of the game, but in later episodes this doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.

- How Lance said he found out about the sacrifice of the dragons in the library archives, but during Erika’s history classes in the HQ they said there weren’t any records about the blue sacrifice and all they knew was passed down through generations through oral traditions and tales. If that’s true, then Lance and Valkyon would have known about it since they were kids with adults telling them about the stories of the creation of Eldarya.

- What happened to Marie Anne after she was captured and purified of the faerie blood? She’s not mentioned again after that.

- Humans in Eldarya were mentioned once, and that’s it.

- How Erika is characterized as a very kind and empathic person but didn’t seem affected when she found out Ykhar was killed.

- How Leiftan was the one who killed Ykhar since he was with Erika and the other guard members in Memoria the whole time.

- Alajea’s fear of water is not a thing anymore.

- Why Erika took Valkyon leaving with Lance as a betrayal, she was right there when that happened and saw that he did it to protect her. 

@nelielombrelune

- Miko told us dragon’s ingrédients were necessary to open portals, but later she finally said those weren’t really “dragon” stuff but they called it like this because, you know, everything there is a mess.

- Humans were supposed to be a threat on Eldarya (Miiko mentioned secret societies like Illuminatis, Templars or Freemasons but we’ve never heard about them anymore)

- There is no real food in Eldarya and the Guard has to open portals to Earth to steal foodstuffs for Eels survival. They don’t know how to cook and eat raw pasta in the firsts episodes but a few episodes later they throw tea-parties where Karuto & Erika bakes crepes and cakes. 

- In episode 20, Leiftan says he's been waiting for Erika for years. Except that he does not seem to know who she is, nor her species or where she comes from, how she came here, nor her connection to the Oracle...

- When we’re in Ashkore PoV he said his ancestors killed the daemons

- Once upon a time we had to choose a “job” (infirmary, library, and I don’t remember the third one), but we never hear about it in the next episodes.

- On the illustration where Leiftan saves Erika from falling off the cliff, his wings are white, he’s got only 2 and his horns have disappeared 

- In episode 30 Lance calls Erika “the human” though he knows she’s an aengel

- What about the war ? Lance killed his brother, Erika and Leiftan sacrificed themselves and then what ? Did Lance just leave after all the time he tried to destroy Eldarya ?

- “In episode 29 Miiko (I think it was her) says that they will have enough water for everyone because they filter rainwater but in episode 19 someone has said that it barely rains in Eldarya...”

@momiyi-chan

- Three enemies of Eldarya (Triades, Illuminati, and Templars) are mentioned but never make any appearance. It is said the Templars are trying to get MC to rescue her. Where are they?

- Until episode 20 the Guard was looking for the pieces of the crystal, that were scattered on Eldarya. That was never mentioned again. Crystal became irrelevant.

- Who taught Naytili to corrupt the crystals? Leiftan and Lance were very interested in learning that skill, but it was never touched again.

@hsakurausasuke

- Mary Anne is still rooting in prison. It's like she disappeared.

@velleitxs

- Erica cannot decide if she is an aengel or a human with the blood of an aengel

@susymei 

- Episode 15, we never learned the consequences of telling or not telling the Guard, that Ashkore was stealing food in the HQ. 

- Ashkore doesn’t kill Huang Hua because Erica likes her, and yet he wants to kill her few episodes later. 

- Episode 26. We can kind of flirt with Lance. There is some tension on the cliff (if you pick right choices) and he protects us from the heat of the volcano. The episodes afterward completely forgot about those choices - it’s like Episode 26 never happened. 

@valethari

- The episode in which Gardienne becomes a mermaid to go back from the Kappa Island to the HQ: She almost drowns and her S/O saves her and carries her up the stairs to the infirmary effortlessly and princess-style. When Colaïa was the one in the dungeon and Karen, Alajéa and Gardienne tried to bring her to the sea again, they said she was SO heavy because her tail is pure muscle, and between THREE people they had a lot of trouble carrying her.

Well, that was pretty long! Thank you for reading all of those! Have a nice weekend guys and stay healthy <3 

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter 11

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

It’s finally here! 11,500 words and 22 pages, my biggest chapter yet!  I hope it was worth the wait, please enjoy and leave behind a like and a comment, your feedback is greatly appreciated and truly fuels the story along. Also, please feel free to share this with others if you enjoyed it. Happy reading, y’all! 🐺❤️🦌

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

The sun was just beginning to settle down over the peak of the mountains in the West, the sky turning into a red glow, the clouds reflecting off the fading light with beautiful shades of orange and purple.

You sat by the fallen log next to the wide stream, listening to the gentle sounds of the rippling waters. The air was still, the cool temperatures nipping at your skin. After completing several chores around the cabin throughout the evening, you had prepared dinner ahead of time for when the two men came back, knowing they would no doubt be hungry after such a long trip.

It felt like it had been an eternity since Austin and Arthur had departed on their trip, so you wondered how much farther they had actually travelled this time.

A part of you was starting to get worried. Even though you wanted to believe that they were both safe, something inside you didn’t feel quite right, but you couldn’t quite explain why.

Reaching down by your feet, you combed your fingers through the soft grass, picking up some of the smooth multicolored pebbles that had washed up from the stream. One brown, a few grays, one white, you held them up in your palm, flipping them over to study their unique patterns. Nature’s designs were always so fascinating to you, every single leaf, rock, plant, tree … there was always something new to see if you looked close enough.

You let out a sigh, lifting your eyes back up to see the last rays of light peeking over the mountains. Crickets were starting to chirp, the wind picking up slightly, carrying the familiar scent of the approaching night.

Standing to your feet with a sigh, you dropped the pebbles to the ground and began to make your way back to the cabin before it got too cold.

Just as you reached the porch steps, the distant sound of hoofbeats reached your ears, quickly drawing closer. Jerking your head around, you saw Austin driving the wagon towards the house. At first you wondered why your brother was driving so fast, and then you noticed — the seat next to him was empty.

Your heart felt as though it had suddenly dropped to your stomach, and dark dread overcame your entire body as instinct completely took over, your mind completely overcome with worry. Forgetting everything else, you rushed over to the wagon as Austin pulled it up by the side of the cabin and climbed out. He didn’t appear to be harmed, but where was — “Where’s Arthur?” You asked frantically as you approached, “What happened? Why isn’t he — ”

You immediately stopped in your tracks as Austin went around and pulled a limp body from the back of the wagon, covered in blood.

Arthur.

Tears pierced the backs of your eyes as you saw the deep bleeding wounds all over his upper body, grief and terror washing over you. Was he dead … ?

“Austin — ” The fear was almost too much to bear, and you nearly choked, feeling the urge to fall to your knees as you ran up to his side. “What happened? Arthur — is he —”

Austin let out a frustrated huff as he pulled Arthur out from the back of the wagon, only saying two words. “Wolf attack.”

You hand shot to your mouth as you let out a choked gasp, feeling the overwhelming urge to collapse to the ground. This was all your fault, you thought despairingly. You should have never let them —

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Austin gathered the larger man in his arms, grunting from the weight as he quickly made his way to the cabin. Wait, was he—? Going after your brother, you followed by his side and studied Arthur’s face, watching and listening closely for any signs of life until you heard it — a deep groan, and then his eyelids fluttered slightly.

Oh, dear God, he was still alive!

Instantly, you felt yourself change, your mind immediately rerouting itself onto a completely different set of tracks. Your heart racing, you ran ahead and held the door open for both of them as they walked through. There was no time to waste, not a single damn second.

When Austin headed over to the large couch with Arthur in his arms, you spoke up firmly, “Wait,” At your brother’s questioning look, you lifted your hand to point towards the small hallway, “Take him to my room.”

Austin scowled, his disapproval clearly showing, but he didn’t argue with you. He turned around and carried Arthur towards your bedroom as you went into your office and gathered all the supplies you could possibly need.

Grabbing the large metal tray from your desk, you piled everything onto it quickly. As you stocked up and grabbed a few spare towels, you couldn’t help but notice how low you were starting to run on medical supplies … there was clearly not going to be enough for what Arthur needed to cover after the next few days …

You cursed to yourself at the fact, but you couldn’t worry about that now.

Making your way down the hall, you burst into your bedroom and set the tray down on the dresser next to the bed. Austin stood over in the corner still holding Arthur as you snatched the sheets off the mattress, covering the bare cot with the soft thick towels as quickly as you could. Doing this was going to make it much easier to change back into fresh linens once the bleeding had stopped, allowing Arthur to be more comfortable once his treatment was done.

You nodded at Austin, “Set him down,” you commanded softly, and he did as you asked without saying a word, laying Arthur down on his back on the center of the mattress.

Your eyes ran over him as your brother stepped back, taking in what appeared to be several large claw marks all over his shoulders and chest, along with a few more of them on his lower left leg. You looked up to the blood-soaked cloth that was covering his neck, where most of the blood seemed to be coming from.

You were almost afraid to see what was underneath.

There were so many questions racing through your head, so many emotions flooding throughout your entire body. Fear, despair, fury, guilt … You so desperately wanted answers, but stopping the bleeding was your top priority right now.

You lifted your gaze back up to your brother, “I need soap and water. Now.”

He gave a single nod, leaving the room as you leaned over Arthur to inspect the wounds. You swallowed hard as you saw all the blood, both dry and fresh, feeling a growing lump in your throat. Was that your heart trying to escape? Your vision became blurry, and suddenly you felt something wet running down your cheeks.

Lifting a hand, you quickly wiped the tears away. You couldn’t allow your feelings to take over, you needed to focus on the task at hand.

Grabbing a dry cloth from the large tray, you immediately went to work on cleaning the wounds, dabbing as gently as you could at the raw injuries. There would need to be stitches, you noted, as you saw how deep the awful gashes truly were.

After that was done, you eyed the bloodied fabric over his neck. With some hesitation, you reached out and gently grabbed the hem of the cloth, lifting it up slowly. Holes. Several of them, wide and extremely deep. Your heart nearly stopped at the vicious sight, and you almost wanted to cry again.

Snatching up another thick towel, you held it down to the wound, slowing the blood flow as best you could.

Austin came back into the room with a large bin filled with soapy water, and he set it down by your side without a word. You could feel your brother’s stare as he backed away, but you didn’t bother to look at him. All your attention was on Arthur. Nothing else in the world mattered here and now but him.

“Austin, I need you to hold this to his neck for me,” you said sternly, gesturing to the cloth you were holding, “I need to get to work on closing up his injuries.”

Your brother nodded wordlessly, coming around the other side of the bed to do as you’d asked. As he held down the towel to slow the blood flow, you immediately got to work on cleaning the wounds.

Dipping a small towel into the basin, you soaked the cloth in the suds and wrung it out. Once it was damp, you leaned forward over the edge of the bed and began cleaning the blood away so that you could wash the cuts and see the real damage Arthur had taken.

“I’m so sorry … ” your brother’s soft words pierced the quiet space between you, barely audible to your ears, “It was all my damn fault … the gunshots — I’m such a goddamn fool — ”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but distraction wasn’t an option at the moment, and he went on cursing under his breath.

Once the wounds were finally clean, you used the bottle of alcohol to disinfect the areas, rubbing the liquid into the cuts with another fresh damp cloth.

Arthur’s body jerked at the contact, weak groans coming from his throat.

Snapping your gaze up, you saw that his face was contorted, his thick brows drawn down tight, his lips pulled back in a pained grimace.

A wave of dread and relief flooded you at the same time. Dread that you were causing him more pain, but enormous relief that he was still with you. You let out a small sigh to settle your nerves and went right back to work.

When the task was complete, you set the bottle aside and picked up the syringe along with a vial of medication that would help him to relax. It was also going to help him through this next process.

Piercing the rubber lid, you drew the liquid into the barrel and reached out to his arm. Finding the thick vein, you pressed the needle in and deposited the contents into his system.

Placing the now empty syringe aside, you picked up the small needle and surgical thread from the tray. Nodding to your brother, he stepped back to give you some room. This wasn’t going to be fun for Arthur, but it had to be done. Leaning down over his neck, you pushed the thin needle into his skin around the bite marks.

Arthur let out a rough grunt, but due to his weak state and the applied medicine, he was unable to struggle much against your hold. Quickly, you pulled the thread through and pierced through the skin again, repeating the process over and over until the worst of the gashes were completely closed up.

Tying the final knot and cutting the string, you stepped back and observed the stitch-work you’d just done. Having only ever done this kind of treatment on animals in the past, it felt so strange to now be doing them on a human. Thankfully, though, it appeared as though you’d done a decent job. The bleeding had stopped significantly, and now all that was left was to patch them up.

With Austin’s help in lifting Arthur’s upper body, you were able to wrap up the wounds on his torso and neck until they were completely covered underneath thick layers of bandages. His leg was thankfully not as bad as the rest of him, so you finished that part of him up with more alcohol and another bandage. Even though the large wound wasn’t too deep, there was no way in hell you were going to allow him back on his feet for the next few days at the very least.

If he made it.

Dear Lord above.

Looking up at Austin, you narrowed your eyes.  Now that everything was settled down, the emotions came flooding back. You recalled him saying that it was his fault, and your voice was flat as you glared at your brother, “What the hell happened to him?”

Austin refused to meet your gaze, portraying his guilt even further as he reached up to rub the back of his neck, all the while looking down at his feet, “We was huntin’ an elk. Got close, but I — I got careless. Wolves was drawn to our location, we was ambushed and … ” He squeezed his eyes shut then, and let out a hard sigh, “Arthur saved my life.”

Those words suddenly drained all the anger from you right then and there. The tension in your body left, your mind and body going completely numb as you looked down at the man lying on the bed.

Arthur saved my life.

This man … little more than a stranger … they were nobody to him … yet he had saved Austin from getting mauled by wild animals, nearly getting himself killed in the process …

He’d been willing to give his own life to save her brother’s …

You felt something inside you change in that moment. Though you couldn’t place what it was, something in your heart completely melted for him.

Your vision became blurry, and you felt another tear escape as it ran down your cheek. Reaching up to wipe it away, you knelt down by the side of the bed. Reaching out a gentle hand, you combed your fingers through Arthur’s hair, pushing the stray strands away from his face.

You heard the fading sound of footsteps, but you paid it no mind at that moment in time, lost in your thoughts as you stared down at Arthur’s sleeping form. You smiled down at him, listening to his soft breathing. “What the hell am I ever gonna do with you?” You asked under your breath.

•••••

The magnificent buck lifted its head from where it was grazing, looking off into the distance. The sun was making its way down, the golden rays of the sunset hitting off the top of the tall trees as it disappeared over the peak of the mountains. As it descended, the skies slowly turned from lights and colors of pink and orange, to shades and shadows of blue and purple. The stars began to appear in the dimming sky, the glints of white and blue piercing through one by one as the cool wind swept through the leaves of the trees.

Arthur stood in the middle of the meadow, watching the graceful creature from a distance. For a while it wandered about, inspecting different areas as if it were searching for something. He wondered about its curious behavior, until finally the creature turned, making its way toward the thick forest that lay just beyond the edge of the field. He was pulled along with it, his body nothing but air as he was left to do nothing but spectate.

The woods ahead were dense, darker than the night sky above as it swiftly approached. More stars of many colors began to appear and twinkle overhead, the full moon casting its soft blue glow over the land.

The buck disappeared into the forest, the darkness swallowing it whole as it vanished completely.

At first, Arthur was left alone for a while, until a soft hooting sound came down from the branches. Arthur lifted his head to look up at the tall trees, and spotted a large, great-horned owl perched high above him on one of the thick branches.

Its feathers were magnificent and large, the patterns reminding him of something he couldn’t quite place at that moment. He took a closer look at them, and noticed that the plumes were rather worn, grayed … From far away they seemed so flawless, but up close … Its eyes glowed with the reflection of the moon, and it turned its head to stare directly down at him. He found himself unable to help but feel mesmerized by them, as if they held some sort of otherworldly light.

Something in his chest felt strange as he met the creature’s gaze, and he felt oddly drawn to it. Taking a quiet breath, he tried stepping forward slowly.

The owl suddenly lifted its large wings, taking off into the night towards the mountains. Arthur was pulled with it, following it through the starry sky for a while until it finally landed on another tree, far from where it had taken off.

Arthur took in his new surroundings. Something felt familiar about this place, but he couldn’t understand why. Looking around, he spotted the mountain nearby — and a small cave opening in the side. He could’ve sworn he’d seen it before …

The great-horned creature made a soft coo that echoed around him, and once again it lifted its wings to take flight, its feathers flapping loudly as it lifted itself into the air and swept over Arthur’s head, and then vanished into the dark cave before him.

Arthur stared into the opening of the black void, narrowing his eyes. What the hell was going on? He approached it cautiously, crouching low to the ground as the owl’s calls continued in his head, calling out to him.

However, as he got closer to the entrance, the cooing suddenly turned into a dark and ferocious growling. The low sound reached his ears from the depths of the cave, and suddenly two fierce brown eyes opened from the darkness to stare directly at him.

Arthur came awake with a gasp, his eyes snapping open. He flinched, blinking several times as the morning sun’s rays shined directly on his face through the window. Damn, that hurt.

Another confusing as hell dream again. He groaned inwardly, feeling tired of whatever his mind was struggling to tell him, if it was indeed saying anything.

Which he somewhat doubted.

Where was he? He tried to move, but his body felt like a cloud, warm and numb.

He gathered all his strength and was finally able to lift his head slightly. Looking down, he saw that a thick duvet was laid out over his body — and he noticed the floral pattern instantly. Turning his head into the pillow, he inhaled through his nose, taking in the scent of the soft fabric.

Y/N.

He sighed, his entire body relaxing now that he knew he was back at the cabin … but what — what the hell'd happened? He was still confused as to how he’d gotten here.

Where was Austin? Was the boy alright? Where was Y/N?

Then he heard it, his ears finally picking up the sound of soft snoring coming from the corner of the room. He turned his head — and saw Y/N sitting on a large cushioned armchair next to the dresser, a red quilt covering her sleeping form. Her legs hung over one of the armrests, her arms crossed over her chest as she rested her head on a thick blue pillow.

He wanted to smile at the sight, she looked almost adorable like that, so at ease as if she didn’t have a single care in the world. But if he were honest with himself, she didn’t look all that comfortable. He lost his smile then, feeling guilty for having taken up her bed.

A sharp stabbing pain shot through his shoulder, and Arthur let out a loud involuntary grunt.

Y/N’s eyes opened, and she looked over at him, “You’re awake!” Her voice was filled with relief as she got up from the chair, throwing the quilt to the ground as she rushed over, kneeling by his side and smiling down at him.

“I’m awake,” Arthur repeated as she reached out to him, her hand settling gently on his arm. His tongue felt thick, and he doubted he’d be able to form a single coherent sentence, but he would try. “What the hell … happened?”

There.

It took a little extra effort, but with a few extra breaths he could manage it.

Her smile fell, and she looked down as she stroked his arm. “Austin said y’all got attacked by wolves. That — that they’d — ” She brought her other hand up to her face, covering her mouth. She blinked rapidly, as if she were trying to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Her unexpected apology had him taken aback, and he gave her a confused look. “Whaddya need to be sorry for?”

Y/N let out a soft hiccup, tears escaping as they ran down her cheeks. “I should’ve never let you leave the cabin until you were better. I’m such a moron,” she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, then hid her face in the duvet sobbing, “this is all because of me.”

Arthur was speechless. How in the hell and why did she believe that any of this was her doing?

He wanted so badly to comfort her, so he slowly lifted his hand, bringing the tips of his fingers to her soft cheek.

She jerked at the contact and looked up at him.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, honey.” He whispered, giving her a gentle smile.

Y/N sniffed, rubbing a hand across her face once more, “But I am, it was my mistake to let you go so soon while you were still being treated. Now … now it’s goin’ to take even longer for — for your body to — ” She squeezed her eyes shut, speaking weakly through gritted teeth. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

He dropped his hand and looked around the room, “Where’s Austin? He alright?”

She nodded, lowering her eyes to the duvet. “He left yesterday mornin’. Said he was going to pick up some more medical supplies since we’re running low. He won’t be back for a few days.” She fiddled with the fabric, “He told me it was the least he could do — ” She stopped and looked back up at him, her expression softening, “Because … you saved his life.”

Before Arthur could blink, she had both her hands on either side of his face … and she was kissing the hell out of him, her head tilted to the side as she pressed her warm lips firmly against his.

He let out a grunt, and she pulled away instantly, seeming to mistake the sound he made for pain, “I’m so sorry — ”

Before she could move away, however, he gripped her wrist, squeezing it lightly. When she met his eyes in question, he grinned and whispered softly, “You’re alright, girl.”

•••••

Those unexpected deep words sent a shiver down your spine, your body nearly melting into liquid from that deep western drawl as you looked down into that intense blue-green stare. What on earth was it about him that drew you into his eyes like an ocean you could drown in?

Blinking, you looked away and cleared your throat. You needed to change the subject immediately before you lost all train of thought. “So anyway, how’re you feelin’ right now?” You asked softly, gesturing with a small nod at the rest of his body. It was probably a dumb question, but it was the only one you could think of on the spot.

Arthur smirked, “I’ve no idea,” he replied, his western drawl dragging out the words. He lifted his head to look down at himself, then he grunted as he tried to sit up.

“Oh, no, you don’t, mister,” you snapped as you shot a hand out to his chest, stopping him from making the effort. “There’s no way I’m lettin’ you off this bed.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips pulling back in another grin, “Is that a threat, or an invitation?” His voice was a light tease, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Your eyes widened at his flirting. “How on earth can you think like that when you’re like this?”

He let out a huff, turning his head to look up at the ceiling. “You kissed me first.”

A warm blush crept into your cheeks. It wasn’t a lie, but the words still sent shivers down your spine.

Again, you had to move away from the topic before you pounced on the man. “Is it alright if I examine your wounds?”

He looked over at you again, his eyes studying yours. It took all you had not to break your professional mask underneath his close scrutiny. A moment of silence passed, and he finally nodded, letting out a sigh as he looked back up at the ceiling with a huff, “Fine.”

You gave a small smile as you stepped forward and leaned over him, lifting the thick blanket away from his body. You examined the bandages, looking for any blood that might have made its way through. It had been two days since you’d stitched up his injuries, and most of the patches were still clean. All except for his neck, where a bit of pink was starting to show.

He spoke up, “How long’s it been?”

You looked up at him, “Two days. You were out for a while from the medicine.”

He nodded.

You continued to examine the bandages, moving the blanket further down to look at the one on his leg. After seeing that it was still clean, you replaced the sheet to cover him up from the waist down. “Everything looks alright for now, Arthur. I just need to look at your neck real quick. Are you hungry at all?”

He shook his head in response as you leaned over to begin undoing the coverings around his throat. It was the largest patch you had ever done, the dressing going over his neck and shoulder and around his chest to hold it all in place. As soon as you lifted it off his wound, he hissed as some of the stitches caught on the bandage.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered softly, bringing your hand over to loosen the tangle. When the bandage was worked free, you took a closer look at the wound.

“How’s it look?” Arthur asked in a humorous tone, as if he were embarrassed by what it might look like to her.

It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but it looked much better than it had two days ago. “Well, you ain’t gonna be doin’ any heavy-liftin’ for a while,” you said lightly.

He narrowed his eyes up at you, then he smiled, “Guess that’s a given.”

You opened the bedside cabinet to pull out some of the medical equipment you had placed there yesterday as emergency supplies. Bandages, a jug of water, fresh rags, a syringe, and many vials of medicine and herbs. You opened the jug and soaked one of the rags in the cool water, then brought it to Arthur’s wound to clean the blood that had seeped out and dried up around the injury.

He flinched at the contact, and you tried being more gentle as you ran the fabric over the tender skin. Once it was clean, you redressed the wound with fresh patches, getting Arthur to sit up just a little so you could wrap the bandage all the way around him several times to secure everything in place.

Finally, he was able to lie back down as you gathered the syringe and one of the vials. “This will help your body to fight off any future infections,” you said to him as you pulled the liquid into the barrel of the syringe, “It may make you a little woozy since it’s a bit strong.”

You looked at him questioningly to get his approval as you held it above his arm. He gave a nod, and hissed as the needle punctured his skin. After a couple seconds you tossed the now empty instrument on the dresser and patched up the small slit left behind. “That should just about do it,” you said cheerfully.

He gave you a small smile of thanks, and that expression alone nearly had you melting as you returned his smile with one of your own. You knelt back down by his side, taking the liberty of running your hand up and down his thick forearm.

A long moment of silence passed, the momentary peace between the two of you almost feeling like a blessing from above.

Then his eyes suddenly widened, “The hat!” He jerked his head up, looking around the room, his eyes scanning the space frantically, “Where is it?”

For a split second you had no clue what he was talking about, and then you remembered, “My grandfather’s hat?”

You were stunned by his concern. The only thing that had been on your mind this whole time had been Arthur. Not once had you ever thought of anything else but his health, not even remembering the hat until now. Now that he’d brought it up, you realized that they hadn’t brought it back after the attack. So it must’ve been lost. “It’s alright, Arthur,” you said quickly to reassure him, “I can go back and get it tomorrow. Right now I just need you to relax for me.”

He froze then, his head turning slowly back to you as he narrowed his eyes. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m … lettin’ you go back there alone.”

You shook your head and patted his shoulder softly, making sure to keep clear from his worst injury. “Don’t you worry about me right now, I’ll just get it back — ”

“No, you’re damn well not — ”

“Arthur, it’s fine, I can — ”

His hand suddenly shot up and grasped your wrist firmly. Your eyes widened at the unexpected strength his hold had as his fingers tightened around your flesh. You met his eyes worriedly, and what you saw in them nearly terrified you.

“You’re not goin’,” he snapped, his drawl sharp. It was all he said, but the words were spoken in such a dire tone that it took you aback.

The look he gave was sinister, his thick brows drawn down tightly as he glared up at you. Gone was the soft man from earlier, the one you were used to ...

Everything about him had gone dark now — it was almost as if he were an entirely different person. The soft shell he’d had from earlier … it was completely gone now, broken away to reveal a much different man underneath.

But something wasn’t right … the frightening manner he was giving off so easily now; it was coming off of him so naturally, too much so … Almost as if he were used to being this way?

So … threatening.

You knew right away that he wasn’t going to take any shit from you, nor no one else.

Surprised, all you could do was nod, and he finally released his grip from your arm, lowering his hand back down to his side.

You let out a breath, lifting your arm up to your chest to rub at your wrist.

He let out a rough breath as he noticed your action, the dark air seeping away from his body. “I’m sorry. I … ” He turned his head to look away, as if he were ashamed, “I just don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

You said nothing, still surprised from what had just happened. His expression, the sinister vibe he’d just given off, it had left just as quickly as it had arrived.

Who was this man, really?

That look he’d had … you'd never seen it up until now. But it had come to him so naturally somehow. The ice-cold expression, the threatening air around him …

What the hell had he been?

You lowered your gaze to your wrist, rubbing softly at the skin with your other hand. He hadn’t exactly hurt you, but the small burn was still there. “It’s alright, Arthur,” you found yourself saying out loud, “I didn’t … I didn’t mean to worry you at all.”

He turned his head back to you to meet your eyes again, “Did I hurt you?” He asked, his tone gentle once more.

You gave him a reassuring smile as you shook your head, “I’ll be fine.” You gave him a wink in an effort to try and calm him, “You just surprised me, s’all,” you said lightly.

He let out a huff at your attempt at humor, as if he didn’t believe you for a even a second. “I’m real sorry, Y/N ... I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He looked up to meet your gaze again, “And about your hat … it’s my damn fault it got lost,” he let out a sigh, his western drawl sounding genuine as he took in a deep breath.

“Arthur, it’s not your — ”

“First thing I’m gonna do ... when I get out of this bed … I’m gonna go out there and get it back for you.”

“Arthur, please — ”

“My mind’s made up,” he said sharply.

Something inside of you wanted to protest. You wanted to tell him no, but you knew it would be best if you agreed with him, at least for now. If only to help him feel comfortable. In this very moment, you would go along with it, even though inside your mind you were already making plans otherwise. You nodded, smiling as you responded, “Of course, Arthur. But please, I need you to rest right now. Don’t worry about the hat just yet.”

“Promise me you ain’t goin’ out there.” His voice was deep, the gravel in his tone unsettling as he stared up at you.

For a while, you could barely move, unable to even blink under his leer. “I promise, Arthur.” You stroked his arm in an effort to soothe him, “But for now, just let me treat you, alright?”

Arthur said nothing at first, watching you for several more seconds as if he were trying to study your sincerity. Finally, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile and he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Seems it ain’t been long enough.”

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you lifted a brow at his words, “Since what?”

“We’re already doin’ this again.” He said as the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk, gesturing with a nod down at himself. He lifted a hand slowly to rub at one of the bandages on his chest.

“Well, you need to stop gettin’ yourself into trouble,” you teased with a few light slaps to his arm, “then we wouldn’t have to keep doin’ this.”

He burst out laughing, and the abrupt movement caused him to groan as he flinched from the pain that shot through his body. “I guess you’re right. I’m a dumbass, ain’t I?” He chuckled softly, “Ain’t no news to me. You wouldn’t be the first … to think that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not a dumbass, Arthur.” You paused, “Well, maybe a little for gettin’ yourself into trouble like this, but — you saved my brother’s life,” you stated firmly. You continued to stroke up and down his arm, running your hand over his rough skin, feeling the soft hairs underneath your fingers. “He’s alive because of you.” Lowering your head, you had to hold back the emotions that began to flood you again, “I … I can never thank you enough.”

Arthur sighed, his chest falling as he closed his eyes. “You saved my life, Y/N. You think I’m gonna … let you lose somethin’ you love?”

Those words touched your heart, and you reached out to comb your fingers through his hair, brushing the loose brown strands away from his forehead. “Thank you, Arthur … I — truly, thank you for what you did.”

His face went soft as he let out a sigh, “It weren’t nothin’,” he said, his voice sounding tired. That blue-green stare lowered, as if he were lost in thought, “I promise, I’ll get your grandfather’s hat back.” He closed his eyes then and leaned into your hand, as though he were relishing in your touch.

Both of you stayed like that for a while, the seconds turning into minutes as time seemed to stretch on forever.

Eventually, his breathing became even, his chest now rising and falling slowly in a steady rhythm.

He’d fallen asleep, and you stepped back to let him rest. Stepping out of the bedroom, you shut the door quietly behind you and stepped out into the sitting room.

You thought about what he’d said, about going out there again and risking his well-being to return something else you loved. Grandfather’s hat …

But deep down, you knew he’d done enough. He’d risked his own life, knowing he was ill, to save Austin’s. There was no way in hell you were going to let him go back there, not for anything.

Yet you knew in your gut, as long as the hat was still out there, Arthur was most likely going to live up to that dumbass title of his and go back out there to get it, no matter what you said to him. It was only a matter of time.

You closed your eyes as you pondered the thought. After a few deep breaths, you settled on your final decision.

Tomorrow, early in the morning before he woke up, you were going to go out there with Lily and get it back. It was one of the last things you had left of him, and it indeed was something you held close to your heart. Austin had handed you the map the same night after he’d gotten back with Arthur, and you were going to use that to find your way to that exact location. As long as you were cautious and quick, there should be nothing to worry about. Right? You’d get back before Arthur ever woke up, and the hat would be returned.

You eyed your grandfather’s bow, propped up in the corner by the fireplace. You could defend yourself with that, couldn’t you? It shouldn’t be too hard. How difficult could it be to handle a bow and arrow? Maybe — maybe you wouldn’t even need it at all! You’d ride out with Lily, find the hat, and get back within the hour if you were quick.

Sure you might have to bear Arthur’s verbal tantrum when he realized what you’d done, but it was better than the thought of him going back there again. Alone. He’d eventually get over it, wouldn’t he?

That thought suddenly brought another, and you paused, recalling his dark transformation from earlier.

You bit your lip as you pictured it again in your head. The dark air he’d given off. What his face had looked like, the strength in his grip despite his weakened state. He’d been so sinister in that one single moment, threatening, his nature having shifted to something entirely different than what you had ever seen from him before.

Arthur had been a much different man before you’d met him. You were sure of it.

It was only a matter of finding out who.

••••••••••

The owl was back.

Arthur stood in the middle of a meadow again, watching it fly over him, its beating wings nearly silent in the night sky. The stars shined down, the full moon’s glow once again lighting the landscape around him.

The owl let out a sharp screech, and just then it swooped down and picked something up from the tall grass right next to Arthur, taking off again and carrying whatever it was with it over to the nearest branch.

He narrowed his gaze as the creature landed gracefully on its new perch, and looking closely, he noticed that the large winged creature had just caught a filthy rat. It struggled in vain inside the grasp of its sharp claws, but there was no hope for it. Those shiny talons squeezed the life out of the vermin, and it squeaked its last breath.

The owl looked around, its chosen branch just at the edge of a dark forest, its grayed feathers ruffling in the gentle night wind. It turned its head as it scanned its surroundings, hooting and calling out in screeching rings as if it were searching for something, or someone.

Finally, it seemed to notice him as its gaze froze on him. It made a curious coo, lifting its wings to rustle up its feathers. Its eyes were just as mesmerizing, but this time … the color was different. A familiar color … almost like someone's he knew …

Again, Arthur was compelled toward the creature, finding himself taking several slow steps in its direction.

It spread and flapped its wings silently, but stayed right where it was in the tree. Was it trying to encourage him? He moved forward, remaining cautious as the creature watched him approach.

At last, he stopped several feet away, looking up questioningly, and he found himself able to speak, “What do you want from me?”

The owl’s head tilted at his question, as if trying to understand. After a few seconds of its scrutinizing gaze on him, it lifted its leg, the one with the rat in its grasp, and released the rodent, the ball of dirty fur landing at Arthur’s feet.

Arthur looked down at the dead rat, blood seeping from one single area in the center of its chest. He grimaced, unable to understand what the hell was going on. He looked back up at the winged creature and narrowed his eyes. Was this some kind of messed up offering to him? He parted his lips, but he was unable to speak again, his throat having closed up from an unseen force.

Suddenly, he could no longer move, an invisible vice having taken hold of him. At first he struggled, grunting with the useless effort as his limbs refused to obey.

The owl let out another soft coo, and Arthur looked up to see the owl again … but it was gone. He looked back down to see the rat, but it had vanished as well, leaving nothing but an abnormally large puddle of blood behind. Enough to come from a human …

He couldn’t understand any of this, and he began to get aggravated as his face tightened, fighting the unseen hold as the puddle of blood grew larger, the red slowly making its way towards his feet.

A small rustling reached his ears, and he snapped his head up, inspecting the dark void of the dense forest.

At that moment, two blue eyes appeared and stared right at him. His heart skipped a beat, his chest tightening up to the point that he flinched from the pain.

The eyes drew closer, and Arthur could only watch as the shadowed creature revealed itself from the darkness.

The buck.

There was blood leaking from one of its antlers, the thick red trails running around the true bone and down its neck, dripping off its fur to land on the green grass beneath its hooves. It let out a soft breath through its nose as it made its way towards him, stopping just when it was only a few feet away.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do, and the silence stretched on into eternity as the matching pair of eyes stared directly into his own, the blood continuing to run down its antler, as if it were coming from the bone itself. He observed the creature, and noticed that more blood was seeping from the two sharp tips of one of its hooves …

After several long moments passed, it stepped around and moved past Arthur, walking right by him. He couldn’t help but notice — the fur was much darker. Rather than the normal light brown, it was more like a burnt umber, stained with blood in several areas.

The sight was nearly sinister.

Finally he was able to move again, and he turned around sharply to follow wherever the creature was headed —

Only to see the dark opening of the cave again, appearing out of thin air directly in front of him, and the buck was nowhere to be seen.

… Two brown eyes now stared at him from the cave’s black abyss.

His heart began to beat fast, and a long howl echoed around him from every direction, getting louder and louder. Several scratches began to appear over the right side of the creature’s face as a crackling sound began to ring out, blood trailing down from the fresh wounds as the shadowed beast began to growl. The brown eyes narrowed at him, and sharp teeth bared as it lunged forward —

Arthur jerked awake, his eyes snapping open. He was breathing rapidly, his heart beating fast in his chest as he tried to catch up with his mind and reality.

Finally, he was able to calm himself enough to take in his surroundings. He looked around. The room was empty, the air chilly. From where he sat in the bed, he could make out the soft light in the sky through one of the windows. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so it was just before dawn. Y/N must have slept in her brother’s bed last night —

Something suddenly sounded out from outside, and he jerked his head towards the window again. The abrupt movement had him flinching and raising a hand to rub around the bandages of his neck and shoulder.

Damn, he’d completely forgotten that he was injured.

Another soft bang. Was that coming from the stables?

He grunted as he tried to sit up. Y/N must have given him another dose while he’d been out, every part of him felt like it was being weighed down by an anvil. He groaned as he rubbed at his neck, trying to avoid the urge to touch the actual wound to keep from irritating it. Not to mention it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

Finally, he managed to sit up straight in the bed, using one of his arms for support as he propped himself up on the cot. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. It was a bit hazy, but he was able to manage it.

A loud whinny sounded from the stables.

He groaned from the sound as it pierced his head. Y/N must have been taking care of Lily, he thought. Giving the horse some breakfast or whatever the hell she was doing.

He lifted the blanket away from his legs to see that he was still wearing his pants, but the lower part on one side had been cut away to patch up his lower leg. He frowned, a bit disappointed that his favorite pair of jeans had been ruined. No doubt more of Y/N’s work. But what the hell, if it meant doing what she needed to do, he’d forgive her for it.

Arthur grunted as he slowly moved his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool wooden floor beneath him. The sensation was a shock to his senses, and he came to even quicker. He realized that he felt like shit, and he desperately wanted to get out of this bed so he could step outside for some fresh air. It didn’t matter what her ladyship demanded of him, he only knew he needed to get out of the cabin.

“It ain’t like I’m goin’ anywhere,” he muttered to himself as he looked down at all the patchwork on his body, letting out a groan, “Damn.”

Tightening up the muscles in his legs, he lifted himself from the bed and stood to his feet. “Shit,” he groaned as he nearly lost his balance, but he was able to catch himself on the dresser. It rattled from his sudden weight, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on regaining his stability. At the rate of all the bedrest he’d been getting, it was only a matter of time before he lost more muscle than he’d previously gained back over the last few weeks.

He looked at himself in the large mirror hanging above the dresser, taking in his disheveled appearance and all the damn bandages.

Wolves.

John would have a damn field day if he were here right now. His brother would never let him live it down.

His skin was rough, patchy. His beard was starting to grow back in again, and his hair was absolutely everywhere. His brows drew down as he glared at his reflection. He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head, “You ugly bastard.”

Another whinny, and Arthur turned his head towards the window. From this angle, he couldn’t see what was going on, but whatever it was, maybe he could help the princess out.

He pulled open one of the drawers and found his old shirt neatly folded on top of some folded bed sheets. He pulled it out and saw that there had been some stitch work done where the wolves had torn right through it. His blood had even been washed out. He narrowed his eyes, almost laughing at the thought of Y/N going through the trouble of doing all of that when he probably would’ve just thrown the thing away.

Looking down again, he saw that his black neckerchief  had been placed beneath it, and decided to wear that as well. It would probably be best to cover up the bandages on his neck to help put her mind at ease once she saw him walking around against her request.

Another loud whinny sounded out from the stables.

Dammit, what the hell was that woman doing?

Arthur pulled the shirt around his shoulders, grunting from the effort as he tried to be careful with his wounds. Finally he was able to slip it on and button the fabric over his stomach and chest. He tucked the ends into his jeans, then threw the black neckerchief gently around his throat, tying it up in the usual loose knot he was so used to.

He looked up at the mirror and paused, taking in his appearance once more. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look presentable. Then leaned in as he inspected his teeth, rubbing at them with the tip of his finger.

Arthur froze suddenly. What the hell was he doing?

He shook his head with a sharp huff and pulled back from the mirror. Turning away, he hissed as pain shot through his lower left leg, but he pushed through it, limping slightly over to the doorway. His boots had been left generously by the bedroom door, and he pushed his feet into them, being careful with his injured left leg.

Opening the door, he slipped out into the hallway and made his way to the sitting room. He couldn’t smell any food, so nothing had been cooked yet.

Strange. He knew Y/N usually had a bite to eat before she went to work on whatever chores she had planned for the day. He made his way over to the front door and stepped outside. The early dawn’s cool breeze woke his nerves up even further, and he paused to take a deep breath, taking in the glorious feeling he’d been so used to from all those years of living outdoors.

Truly, he was not an indoor kind of man.

The soft sound of hooves reached his ears, and he looked over to see Y/N trying to pull Lily out of the stables … with a saddle secured on the horse’s back.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight. Why the hell would she need a saddle unless —

His blood immediately turned cold, and he started heading towards her, barely noticing the pain in his leg as he marched over in her direction.

••••••••••

“C’mon, Lily!” You snapped as the horse threw its head back in protest. You grasped the reins firmly and pulled, “Why are you givin’ me such a hard time, girl?” Letting out a sharp snit, you continued to pull, but the stupid horse refused to budge after you’d pulled her out of the stables. Lily had never behaved this way in the past. So why on earth was she doing it now of all times? You began to grow irritated.

“Y/N!!”

That voice had you freeze in your tracks, your blood turning ice-cold. There was no way — you turned your head hesitantly to look behind you.

Arthur was stomping towards you.

And he looked absolutely terrifying.

You felt the sudden strong urge to hide behind your horse. Instead, you turned around to face him as he approached you, hiding the reins behind your back. As if that did anything for you? You're such a moron, Y/N, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, woman?” Arthur snapped as he stopped in front of you, his blue-green stare all but shooting fire as he glowered down at you.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his gaze directly. You knew you’d been caught completely red-handed, so what else could you possibly do? His towering form alone intimidated you, itwas almost overwhelming. You could barely find any train of thought being so close to him when he was this angry.

Then you quickly realized: he was out of bed. You ran your eyes over his body, taking in the strange way he held himself, his hand holding his shoulder, leaning most of his weight on his right leg … You narrowed your eyes as you shot your own glare back up at him, “I could say the same about you,” you snapped back, all wit completely leaving you mind as you stepped up to this large foreboding man standing in front of you. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’ out of bed?”

Right after you said the words, you wished you hadn’t said anything at all. You didn’t think it was possible, but those eyes of his suddenly grew even darker, almost pained.

“Excuse me?” He asked roughly. “You dare to turn this on me,” his drawl was deep as he spoke through gritted teeth, gravel rattling his dark tone, “when you goddamn promised me you wasn’t gonna do this?”

Your new shields immediately shattered at his words, and you flinched at his disappointed expression.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you lowered your head, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry, Arthur … I just — I just didn’t want you risking your life again. You’re already hurt, because of me. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t let you leave the cabin in the first place.” You closed your eyes, “Just please let me do this, alright?”

Silence.

You couldn’t look up at him. You didn’t want to see any of his disapproval directed towards you.

You could feel his intense stare, but you still refused to look up as several seconds passed.

“Get on the horse,” he said roughly, his dark voice suddenly interrupting the still air.

You jerked your head up to look at him, confused. “What?”

“Get on the goddamn horse!” He shouted, then held up a hand to his mouth as he let out a hard cough. He hunched over, his shoulders shaking as the coughs suddenly took over his entire body.

His violent fit had you reaching a hand out to him, but he immediately pushed it away. His harsh rejection felt like a stab to your chest, and you felt helpless as you watched him wheeze through the fit alone.

Finally he slapped at his chest, clearing his throat as he straightened. His brows drew down tight as he narrowed his eyes down at you, “Get up on the damn horse.” He said hoarsely.

Without a word, you did as he said, assuming that he was going to send you on your way. But after the look he’d given you, no doubt with the pain he was going through right now, you didn’t want to leave him here alone. The hat could wait, you thought. You needed to stay here with him.

Arthur turned away … and grabbed the reins. To your shock, with a click of his tongue and a low “C’mon,” Lily lurched forward, and he began leading her toward the last path he and Austin had taken.

His unexpected action surprised you, “What’re you doin’?”

“You ain’t goin’ alone, and it’s clear I can’t trust you.” He let out another cough and cleared his throat again, “I’m takin’ you there myself before you do anythin’ stupid.”

Your eyes widened, stunned at his actions combined with what he was saying, “Are you insane? You’re hurt, there’s no way I’m gonna let you — ”

You tripped over your own tongue as he looked over his shoulder and leered at you. You clamped your mouth shut at his piercing stare, and watched helplessly as he turned back and limped toward the trail, Lily following him steadily.

After a while, it was more than obvious that he wasn’t going to let up on this, and you let out a hard sigh. “At least get up on the horse with me?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at you again, his gaze scrutinizing, but you kept your face stoic, showing him how serious you were.

With a huff, he released the reins and came over to the horse’s side. You reached a hand out as an offering, and he surprisingly took it, grasping it with a firm hold as he heaved himself over the back of the horse with his good leg.

Lily chortled, her hooves beating at the ground as she shook her head up and down in a bit of surprise.

“It’s alright, girl,” Arthur whispered to the horse, his soothing voice right next to your ear.

You shivered inwardly, almost feeling as though he were talking to you instead of Lily. Arthur adjusted himself behind you, scooting himself forward until his chest was right up against your back, his legs on either side of you as the front of his pants rubbed against your bottom.

Without another word, he reached around your waist to grab the reins and snapped them, clicking his tongue once more. Lily let out a soft putter and began to trot down the beaten path.

You were surprised at how well he handled Lily, watching his hands as he steered the horse effortlessly through the trees. He sped the horse up again with another kick and click, and Lily whinnied as she lurched forward at a higher speed.

At first, the feeling of this man sitting so closely behind you on horseback felt almost strange, giving you a mixed feeling of discomfort at first, but then it slowly turned into something else — arousal? He inhaled deeply through your nose, taking in his musky scent.

You closed your eyes, absorbing the feeling of his warm body pressed up to yours like this. You couldn’t help but notice how warm his skin felt even through the fabric of both of your clothes, the heat of him against you feeling so incredibly intimate. You almost wanted to rest your hands on his thighs, but you didn’t dare.

There was no doubt in your mind that he was incredibly furious with you right now, that now was definitely not the time to be entertaining any kind of sexual fantasies — but that still didn’t change the physical reaction you were having to him …

At first you tried to distract yourself with the rising sun, with the sound of the wind as it whipped through your hair, the early morning birds tittering high up in the treetops.

… Nothing was working.

You let out a soft breath, deciding it would be best to try and make conversation with him, “Thank you, Arthur.”

Silence behind you.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise.”

More silence.

You turned your head to look up at him, but he didn’t look down, his eyes focused on the trail ahead as he gradually sped the horse up to a canter with another soft kick.

The movement of the horse caused his body to thrust up against yours in such a way that dark thoughts immediately began to make their way back into your mind.

You quickly shook them off, however. You weren’t going to allow yourself to think that way, especially not right at this moment, no matter how much you wanted to.

The ride up toward the mountain was quiet, Lily’s heavy hoofbeats the only sound that joined in with nature’s as the three of you travelled up the narrow trail.

••••••••••

Arthur was absolutely livid with this woman.

The sight of her leaving the stables with her horse, clearly planning on leaving by herself, it was all he could do not to start pulling his own hair out. She was a goddamn fool for trying to leave on her own. A part of him had wanted to shout at her until his damn black lungs had given out, another part of him had wanted to drag her over to the river and toss her into the cold water to help clear her foolish head.

But dammit, he’d given in.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Her unexpected words had him closing his eyes briefly. He couldn’t allow himself to speak, he was afraid he was going to say something he would later regret.

“I’m sorry for breaking my promise.” She looked up at him, but he did his best to not show any emotion until she looked away again.

He almost chuckled, but he bit his own tongue to keep from doing so. He wasn’t sure if she was actually sincere in her words, but it amused him that she was trying so hard to break him.

What she didn’t realize, however, is that she had already done so.

He had no idea why he was doing this, instead of just going back to the cabin and locking her in one of the rooms until her brother got back.

But of course he knew.

Even though he hated it, this damn woman had him by the reins, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

He kept himself from speaking the rest of the way, driving the horse into a gallop despite the protests his body was starting to give off, little bolts of pain shooting out from his injuries from the momentum. He pushed through, ignoring the pain as best he could. At least it ain’t near as bad compared to that damn gunshot wound you’d gotten all them months back, he thought to himself.

Arthur let out a gasp as the wound in his neck stung sharply, sending a large bolt of pain into his head and shoulders. He hunched over, causing the horse to slow as his grip on the reins loosened. The sudden tensing of his chest irritated his lungs, and he began to cough again.

“Arthur?”

Y/N’s voice sounded through his ears, and he shook his head, “I’m fine,” he said with a hard huff through the fit. He lifted his hand to his mouth coughing even harder.

After a couple minutes, his lungs settled, and he finally straightened back up — only to see Y/N’s eyes looking back up at him, a look of worry in her gaze as she studied him.

He lifted a thick brow at her in question, almost as if to challenge her. He so wasn’t in the mood for pity right now. He was never a man to accept or tolerate sympathy from anyone, honestly.

She seemed to read him loud and clear, however, and turned her gaze away as he pushed the horse back into a gallop.

He could be proud of her respect for his dignity, at least.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the location. As Arthur slowed the horse down, he scanned their surroundings, examining everything he possibly could. The familiar location where he and Austin had been attacked brought back a strange feeling in his gut, but it wasn’t the near-death experience he’d had with a wolves that brought it around.

No.

It was the cave opening on the side of the mountain as his eyes landed on it once more … the same one from his dreams.

His chest instantly began to ache, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, letting out a grunt as he turned away from the sight. He climbed off the horse before Y/N could say anything.

“Wait, let me — ”

“No,” he snapped. He already knew what she was going to say. She wanted him to stay on the horse as she searched for the hat, but there was no way in hell that he was going to allow her to walk around in the tall grass alone as he sat back like some kind of coward. He began making his way through the grass, “Just get off and help me look.”

He could feel her disapproving glare shooting a hole through the back of his head, but he ignored it.

She let out a very unladylike curse, and he could hear rustling behind him as she climbed off the horse and ran over to catch up with him.

They searched for the hat for a while, for what felt like a little over half an hour. He found small traces of blood in several areas. No doubt the wolves’ and his own. He was just glad that Y/N was searching on the other side of the meadow so that she didn’t have to see it. It must’ve rained a bit while he’d been knocked out, since most of it had washed away, but enough was still there that he could easily reimagine the entire thing in his head.

Eventually she shouted out to him. He looked over to her, and saw that she was standing by the cave opening, holding up her grandfather’s hat for him to see, the owl feather clear as day.

A large part of him felt a sudden wave relief that she’d found it, but at the same time the vision of that cave caused a piercing ache to shoot through his head as he saw it again. He groaned at the unexpected pain, but he pushed it away, making his way over to her until he reached her side.

Before he could say a word, she reached up on her tiptoes and placed the hat firmly back on his head. He couldn’t help a small grin stretch his lips as she smiled up at him the way she did in that moment.

Everything seemed to disappear around him, including the cave, as he looked into those beautiful eyes of hers. His anger forgotten, his pain melting away as he stared down at her. He took a step toward her, and then another, until their bodies were nearly touching.

Her expression softened when she realized what he was about to do, “Arthur — ”

A tiny whine suddenly echoed from the darkness of the cave, causing them both to jump.

Arthur immediately came to his senses, examining the black void of nothingness. He stepped back, taking Y/N’s hand and pulling her behind him as he slowly began backing away.

“Arthur, what — ”

“Hush,” he snapped under his breath, his eyes narrowed at the opening of the cave as he carefully and quietly began backing them toward the horse. They had no weapons with them, if a beast was lurking in the shadows of the cave and noticed they were out here, they would — He shook his head, refusing to complete the thought.

Another whine, weaker this time, permeated out from the cave.

“Arthur, wait!”

Damn him, but her sharp voice caused him to lose focus slightly, and she broke free of his hold, running toward the cave.

What the hell!!

He cursed as he went after her, “Dammit, woman, get back here!”

She didn’t listen to him, however, and she disappeared into the inky blackness.

Arthur’s heart began racing, his blood pumping hot and fast through his veins. His chest tightened, and he immediately began to cough as he approached the cave’s entrance. He cursed again and pushed through the fit, running inside to see where she’d gone. As he entered, he called out to her, coughing between shouting her name and every insult he could think of for being such a damn idiot. He pounded at his chest, trying to force the fit down.

“Arthur!” Her voice rang out from the darkness, and he followed the sound until he finally found her in the back, several feet from the cave’s opening. She was on her knees, looking down at something.

“What the hell … did you think … you were doin’?” He shouted at her through coughs.

She turned to look over her shoulder, “I recognized the sounds.”

He looked at her questioningly, then walked over to her side to look over her shoulder.

In her arms, was a tiny wolf pup …

… with scars running down the right side of its face.

•••••

— To Be Continued

[mikauzoran]

Marichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Twenty-Five

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...as a “yes”.

“So…why are we going on this date as Princess and Chat Noir?” Chat inquired, hanging upside-down off of Marinette’s chaise longue as he watched her put the finishing touches on her chameleon-like makeup. “Wouldn’t it be less fuss to go as Adrien and Marinette?”

“Nope,” Marinette decreed, rubbing her lips to spread her lipstick evenly and letting the word go with a pop. “Reasons. Come help me with my necklace.”

“Yes, My Ladylove,” he chuckled, flipping over the chaise and going to her side.

He grinned widely when she handed him the bell necklace she’d worn for many of their special occasions.

“I’m a fan of the bell,” he purred, carefully working the clasp and slipping it around her neck.

“I know,” she chuckled. “That’s why I’m wearing it.”

Chat pursed his lips, giving his girlfriend a scrutinizing look. “You’re up to something.”

Marinette shrugged.

A wave of dread hit him, figuratively knocking his feet out from under him. “Am I forgetting an anniversary?” He scanned his mental calendar, trying to come up with a significant past event.

“Nope.” She shook her head with a mysterious smile. “Just a regular Saturday in August.”

He frowned, sensing that there was something he was missing. “It’s the eighth day of the eighth month. I’ve heard that the Chinese consider eight a lucky number, so it’s an auspicious day, at least.”

“That’s what my mom said,” Marinette snickered. “Come on. Time for our date.”

Chat quirked an eyebrow in suspicion but obediently followed as she made her way up to her loft and out onto the balcony. “May I know where we’re going, Princess?”

“To get ice cream. André’s waiting for us on the Pont des Arts,” she informed, giving his bell a gentle tap.

 People gawked and took pictures much as they had done for the past three and a half years, but, between dating Chat Noir as Princess and Adrien as Marinette, Marinette had long ago gotten used to the attention.

They got their ice cream from André and took it up to the rooftops to eat in relative peace as they watched the sun set in a rolling wave of citrus colours: tangerine, lemon, and grapefruit pink fading into soft lavender and rich indigo.

“You’re planning a surprise,” Chat accused through a wide grin.

Marinette shrugged, leaning in to give their shared ice cream cone a nonchalant lick.

Chat Noir presented his evidence: “You colluded with André so that he’d be waiting on the Pont des Arts for us.”

Marinette smiled enigmatically, refusing to play into his hand.

He pursed his lips and studied her. “So…”

She kept smiling.

He frowned. “Are you going to give me a hint?”

She shrugged again.

His frown morphed into a pout. “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re heading next?”

“Jardin du Luxembourg,” she granted, trying to play it cool, even as the ring box burned a hole through her purse.

 They strolled through the garden hand in hand, the shade of the trees combining with the twilight to afford them a little more privacy.

“Do you feel like I love you?” she asked as they approached the Medici Fountain.

He gave her a puzzled look but answered immediately, “Princess, I know you love me.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, but…do you feel like I love you? Do you feel loved?”

“Oh,” he breathed, nodding as he understood what she was really worried about. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, My Love. I do.”

She blew out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good. Because you’re always going out of your way to do things for me to make me feel loved, and I just…I worry that I don’t speak your love language. I worry that I don’t say it enough or that I don’t say it in a way you understand.”

She stopped at the thigh-high fence around the fountain basin and turned to look at him. “You’re so precious to me. I want to make sure I’m taking care of you. I want to make sure I’m doing this right.”

“Princess, you are,” he stressed, tugging her over to one of the countless green metal chairs encircling the fountain. He sat, pulling her down onto his lap. “Why so serious tonight?” he whispered, giving her hair a comforting nuzzle.

“Just…nervous. Doubting myself, I guess. I worry a lot,” she mumbled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve noticed.” He clicked his tongue and began to purr soothingly. “Don’t worry, My Ladylove. I see the effort you put in, how much you care about getting it just right for me. Most of the time you nail it, but, even when you don’t, I still see how hard you tried, and that means just as much to me as if the romantic gesture you were going for had gone off without a hitch. I feel loved, so don’t doubt yourself.”

She took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. “Okay…. Okay. Good.”

 “I knew it,” he snickered when they arrived at La Méditerranée and the server escorted them to their table. “We’re recreating our first date.”

“Maaaaaybe,” she chuckled, cocking an eyebrow nervously. “Is that romantic or cliché?”

“Romantic,” he assured decidedly. “…So long as you don’t feel compelled to order oysters just because we had oysters on our first date. I know you think they taste like seawater snot.”

She covered her mouth to muffle the sound as she burst out laughing. “Your father would have a heart attack if he knew you’d said that out loud in public.”

Chat shrugged, a wide, knife-like grin spreading across his lips. “You see, that’s the perk of being Chat Noir. Father doesn’t get to control or have an opinion on what I say in public.”

She shook her head, setting her menu aside to reach across the table for his hand.

The bell around her neck glinted in the dim restaurant light, and his smirk softened.

“It’s okay,” he assured quietly. “He doesn’t matter. I don’t need him; I have you.”

She nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “…In all seriousness, I was planning on ordering oysters.”

His eyebrow arched. “You hate oysters. They make you gag.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously, you’d have to eat them, but I want a shell to take home to go with the one from our first date. It’s a memento that I treasure, so…” She smiled shyly, a cherry blossom blush leaking out from under her Princess mask.

“As my Princess wishes,” he replied with as much of a bow as the seating arrangements allowed.

 Chat settled the check as they leisurely finished their crème brûlée and he prattled on about the musical about Molière’s life that he had just seen with Nino and Luka.

All of the sudden, it dawned upon Chat that Marinette had been uncommonly quiet, nodding and making little sounds in all the right places to let him know that she was listening but not making any contribution to the conversation herself.

“Is everything all right, Princess?” He peered across the table at her in concern.

“Fine!” she hurriedly assured a little too loudly and then looked around to see if she’d disturbed any of the other diners. “Fine,” she repeated, voice lower. “I was just…”

His head tipped to the side. “Just…what?”

His eyes scanned her face, searching for the answer.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I love you.”

The worry faded from his face as he beamed. “I love you too.”

She reached across the table, interlacing her fingers with his. “I love you, and I can’t imagine ever feeling this way about anybody else.”

His eyes widened.

“You’re the one for me,” she stressed, gaze locked with his. “Even though I sometimes doubt whether I’m what’s best for you, I’ve never questioned how I felt about you. Even when things were messy, you’ve always felt right to me. I’ve never been uncertain about you. From day one, you being my partner felt natural. My head may not always have been in the right place, but my heart has never wavered.”

Chat nodded speechlessly, eyes tearing up as he let her words wash over him and tried to absorb them.

She squeezed his hand and then let go, moving to fish the ring box out of her purse as she stood.

Chat gasped, right hand moving to cover his mouth as he gawked at Marinette going down on one knee.

She smiled nervously. “I want us to be partners in everything for the rest of our lives…. Will you marry me?”

With a choked sob, he pulled her to her feet and swept her up into his arms, spinning her around as he pressed his lips to hers.

“Y-Yes,” he laughed as he pulled away, staring into her eyes in love and wonder and joy. “Yes, yes, yes! To be by your side is a dream come true.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Wanna head somewhere more private so I can give you your ring? I don’t want to take it out here because it’s kind of unique, and I’m afraid someone is going to get a picture of Chat Noir wearing it and expose your identity.”

“My place okay?” he suggested, and she nodded eagerly.

 Later that night as they cuddled in Adrien’s bed, Adrien couldn’t stop playing with his new ring. It was stainless steel with a black band in the center. On the band was an erratic line pattern reminiscent of a heartbeat on an EKG monitor.

He pulled it off his finger and admired the engravings around the inside of the band for the dozenth time.

Home. Love. Family. Forever.

“Explain the inscription again,” he begged like a child desperate to hear their favourite bedtime story one more time.

Marinette sighed, rolling over to nip his shoulder before patiently acquiescing. “‘Home’ because home is where the heart is. My heart is with you, so I’ll always be home by your side, and you’ll always have a home in me.”

He had to hold back tears yet again because her knowing that he needed that promise, that stability meant more to him than words could say. She knew without him ever having to tell her what he needed.

“‘Love’,” she continued, “because that’s what we have in many different forms. Love for one another as friends, as romantic partners, as teammates, as people.”

“And ‘family’?” he prompted.

“‘Family’ because it only takes two people to make a family,” she recited, pressing a kiss to his jaw just above his scar. “So long as you have me, you will always have a family…and, someday, it won’t just be the two of us. Together, we can build whatever kind of family we want.”

“What about ‘forever’?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her torso more tightly.

“‘Forever’ because that’s how long I’m making these promises for. What we have is permanent. I will never abandon you. I will never stop loving you. I will always fight by your side, no matter what the battle, if it’s dealing with work stress or taking care of sick kids. We’re in this together.”

“Thank you,” he sniffled into her neck. “This…all of this…you really hit it out of the park, Marinette. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more loved and understood than I do right now.”

“Good,” she sighed into his hair. “I really wanted to get this right for you.”

“You shouldn’t doubt yourself,” he encouraged. “You know exactly what I need, and you always take care of me.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she chuckled.

“Hey, I’m the only one whose opinion counts when it comes to deciding whether my needs are being met.” He gave her collarbone a playful nip, making her laugh harder.

“Thank goodness. I would never give me a passing grade.”

“…Hey,” Adrien interjected softly once the laughter had faded into comfortable silence.

Marinette angled her head so that she could look down at him. “Hm?”

“I know we’re already engaged because you asked me to marry you, and I said yes, but…” He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. “Would it be okay if I proposed to you too? Maybe as Adrien and Marinette?”

She took his face in her hands and crushed her mouth to his.

“I would love that,” she assured.

[vynnyal]

Throwing random thoughts, headcanons, and a variety of pasta at the wall (but only those having to do with vessels and/or their biology this time): The Thrilling Third Installment™

...aka pretending i can be dark and dramatic jskhdfd

Thk's larger form is not the standard, but the exception. Thk was cited as being "raised and trained to prime form", which people take to mean pk assisted in the vessel's natural growth. However, that conclusion leaves a lot of unanswered questions, most important of which being “then what about Ghost?” In short, I think that train of thought is backwards. Vessels can't grow- they are ageless, and immortal. We know this due to Ghost, despite living as long if not longer than thk, being completely unchanged over the years. The only thing pk trained into "prime form" was thk’s mind and fighting prowess. Their body... well, I think it was mutated. Most likely either directly by pk, or ordered by him- and with the shenanigans happening over in the sanctum, I wouldn't be surprised if Soul was involved, too. In any case, it was in no means natural. Vessels are corpses reanimated by void; neither corpses nor void tend to make drastic changes on their own all that often. Whether pk predicted the vessel’s “issues” and intended to manually “upgrade” them from the beginning, it's hard to say. But... yeah. Unless Ghost goes out of their way to make themselves grow- if its even possible, now that pk is gone- its fairly safe to say, they never will.

...with that in mind, we are promptly gonna ignore that for the rest of this post lmaooo

Grown-up vessels wouldn't look like thk; while they are described as being raised into "prime form"... prime form, to whom? Rather than looking like an idealized pk soldier, it sounds much more fitting that they’d have an entirely different, natural adult form. Consider: their cloaks being longer and fuller, perhaps filling out into something with a more practical use to their “species”. Better yet, they could even grow up to be more beast-like. Feral vessels, YEhaW

The black egg temple is cited as being "built to sustain [vessels]", yet it can't be their lifespan that is sustained. Rather, it seems the egg is specifically designed to keep the radiance from tearing thk apart, physically and/or mentally. Ngl its p obvious, but worth noting.

Sorta-au where Ghost’s shade has 8 eyes, and/or is generally all-around more cryptid-looking.

@ the sharpshadow charm and the strange, 6-eyed creature their shade turns into: kudos to this post, they bring up something super interesting- the creature not only resembles the Shade Lord, but the lord outright becomes it during the Embrace the Void cutscene.

makes me respect the ol’ civilization a whole lot more if a single charm can turn a baby shade into a baby lord.

The concept of finding ghosts unconscious body, laying next to a corpse, while they battle in their dreams. Alt: when ghost enters the dream realm, their shade leaves their shell... And protects their body from harm.

If steel soul mode is taken as canon, just how did ghost and the shade meet? Alt: Ghost may never have “met” it at all, as it technically doesn’t exist in that mode- instead, its more of a metaphor than an actual entity.

What the vessels looked like- or were supposed to look like- before the void. Alt: a story following a child, alive and untouched, that somehow managed to be spared. They could even have a gender. Alt alt: the void intentionally spared them for some purpose, or even out of simple kindness- or at least, something that resembles kindness.

Re: the shade inexplicably having a nail: all the vessel's swords are crafted from “will-bearing rock”- of which i’ve come to lovingly call living stone- and as such, are of void themselves. That's how the shade seems to conjure up its own copy; it merely shapes it, from the ground, using void. And, while more of a stretch, Ghost’s nail being some sort of living stone/pale ore alloy could explain just how Ghost can do seemingly pretty crazy things with an otherwise ordinary nail. Better, while 100% a baseless hc, its material might actually enable Ghost to build it up and modify it to suite their size as they grow older. finally, a logical reason adult Ghost has an adult-sized nail-claymore. hdsfghjfghdsjf

On that same thought: Ghost outright invented the "art" of manipulating- or creating- living stone to make their nail. ...gimme a sec. The other escaped vessels have nails, too, right? Either meaning they also discovered this ability... or that theres some legitimate ground for the “vessel gang” hc. Or, yanno, i’m reading too much into Ari’s sprites but sHHhh

How did all the vessels know to race to the top? They seemed to be falling merely because they had just been born and had literal, actual baby strength; yet not only did they inexplicably risk everything competing to the top, they somehow knew death was waiting if they lost. Alt: pk just, bringing a fucking megaphone and telling them like a sports announcer.

What if Ghost made it, and instead of falling, they managed to joined thk at the lip? What would pk do? Push them off the edge??? Or just adopt them both?? Oh fuck au where they're raised as twin sacrifices. Or worse yet, they’re raised unequally, and one is trained only as an afterthought. As a backup.

Alternatively, pk keeps all the vessels au, only a few years later when they're grown. Pk now has a literal army of pure knights. Radiance is fucked.

Hm. If vessels were fully coherent entities from the moment of birth, why was there a crib in the white palace? Did... did they use it? I have a feeling team cherry made that asset before the abyss scene lmaooo alt: they did, uh, use the crib. Cue a very awkward scene of thk, clearly not a normal baby, staring at wl with like... idk, the poofy baby hat and pacifier. I can’t tell if the image is more funny or more sad rn shdfgfjsdgg

The og notes that inspired this post, in case my rambling makes more sense (and w/o the awful comic hjsfgjsdfhj): Oh oh OH i GET it now. The void is all about "will" and whatnot, right? And shades are "fragments of a lingering will"- will, like the one you leave after your death, but instead of inheritance its the vessels' desires...last regrets.... DAMN team cherry, that symbolism is clever as heck. That took me a while. Kinda funny how a will is, technically, a person's last regrets Like I knew they were last regrets but I didn't understand WHY. Duh, it's because they're literally Made Of Will. They are the vessel's "wills". I'm so stupid.

Ghost, walking thru the abyss, getting increasingly fed up / freaked out, ducking into a crack in the wall. They follow the crack into the Scream Chamber, pause, then exhale in relief that this was EXACTLY what they needed.

Ghost's shade rolling up its void-sleeves like “fuck it, ima defeat thk myself”

Why was thk's sword there? Was its pedestal decayed? Did it fall from their body? Was it place there as an afterthought, or hurriedly? alt: taking thk's sword before freeing them, but doing the mom thing like you're grounding them hdhfjchjch

I can’t believe it just occured to me now, but... as objectivley stupid as the vessel’s test was, Ghost... technically came in second place. What if that whole scene was a metaphor? Because really, it’s just too silly to take seriously. To do so isn’t too far fetched, either; many other elements in the game’s story are better taken as symbolic or metaphorical, anyways. Take the PoP cutscene- while it could’ve been a literal moment, where they just happened to find themselves standing around and took the moment to appreciate each other... imo it makes much more sense to read it as the concept of their faint ~forbidden love~ and parental pride itself. Or, better yet, the scene at the end of the 4th pantheon. Sorry, but I severely doubt that was an actual event. What I’m trying to get at is the significance of “second place” in the cutscene. My brain is too fried to chase down any other possible connections to this theme rn (if thats even what the theme is), but even without proof, the theory smooths out a few interesting tidbits related to just how Ghost could tough it out when all others failed. All except for #1, anyway. Either way I’m just happy to take this as an excuse to pretend that cutscene didn’t literally happen because like, l m a o

The story of a small group of vessels as they work together to escape hallownest. (aka the aforementioned vessel gang hc... im sure theres a more formal name but you get the idea). Its impossible to tell how long it took them to discover that near-invisible hole, the last exit remaining after the king ordered the abyss to be sealed up. Once they did, however, the remaining vessels were quick to make a desperate scramble to escape- only for the entrance to suddenly crumble shut, far, far too soon. The remaining 8 slowly made their way through deepnest, their numbers quickly dwindling as the jouney started to take its toll. The group was nearly wiped out by those terrible, spiney-legged creatures that used their own kinship against them. Only three finally escaped the deep, yet only two made it through the basin- the third, largest sibling, left to fight alone againt a hopeless battle, just to buy the others time. It was in greenpath, so close yet so far to their goal, that the second succumbed to the infection. It was a mercy killing, that nail through the heart. The last, after all of that, finally made their way to the very precipice of howling cliffs, hesitating for just a moment to gaze out upon the still-fresh ruins of hallownest. But only for a moment, before Ghost jumps down to begin their journey beyond this wretched place.

A vessel running from its shade as it tirelessly pursues them, the vessel refusing to put it to rest.

tw: suicide, + personal on main

Ugh ugh ugh ugh Either thk was fully conscious and in terrible pain for all those years... or they couldn’t feel anything at all. The former is horrible, but imagining thk waking up, chained, unable to do anything but wait for Ghost to heed their call? Did they turn their nail on themselves to help Ghost, end the pain, or some awful mix of both? For someone who has personally dealt with close friends and family that struggled with suicide themselves, hollowknight is one of the worst horror stories I've ever seen. And the fact that the story is so personal, so open to interpretation? The fact that each character is so genuine yet vague enough to be read completely differently to someone else’s biases? Its why hollow knight- the game, and the character- will forever be one of the most powerful stories to me.

in short, good LORD THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING SAD

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE SECRET RIDDLE

Sirius detested the now familiar feeling of dread as he accepted the book from Prongs, how uneasy everyone sat on the edge of their seat, how common place it was to be starting yet another chapter with tension. It was for a random student, and that somehow made it even worse for their own past school years still somehow overlapping into Harry's life now, when all they'd ever wanted for him was a careless seven years of school free of of everything but fun. Still, he began with a forced cheerful tone of voice, no matter how dower the situation started.

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

Oh, and Malfoy knew, said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory.

"Depends on how often you bring this up on how offended you should be," Sirius said cheekily. "Once a day is a bit much pup, you only need to repeat yourself when it's relevant."

"Hark, look who's talking!" Remus looked at him, dumbfounded he could say anything so opposite to the words he constantly spewed, or more accurately, the joke he so often threw around.

"Moony, whatever do you mean?" Sirius batted his eyes innocently, still fooling no one.

Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson,

Remus scoffed at once, the desire still very present to laugh at anyone who thought Dumbledore would be late.

but having had no word to the contrary, he presented himself outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired;

Lily sighed softly for him. He really was getting on in age, and was now living through the same war a second time. It would be taxing on any man.

his hand was as black and burned as ever,

"I'm beginning to worry that's going to be a permanent injury," James muttered in genuine concern.

  but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"Are we still going through memories?" Sirius asked without much interest. "What else from his past do we really need to know?" He still wasn't entirely sure what had been relevant about the first one.

"Maybe he met someone in that orphanage he grew up in, who could be important," Lily offered.

"I can't see it," James disagreed. "If he hates Muggles, I'm betting that's where it all would have started."

"Not to mention, it's impossible to imagine Voldemort with anything resembling a friend, he just has lackeys," Remus sniffed.

Dumbledore began by asking him about his very busy week, confirming that he'd been the one to witness Katie's accident. When Harry agreed and asked how she was, he went on to explain the girl was very lucky, it had only touched the barest amount of her skin through a hole in her glove. Luckily, Professor Snape had been able to prevent the rapid spread of the curse.

"And he couldn't have taken it upon himself? For research purposes of course," James muttered bitterly. He really couldn't even think why Snape had bothered, the slime-ball had never done anything that didn't benefit him in some way.

Lily gave him a scathing look for that one though, she wished they'd show a bit more gratitude like they would any other human being doing this. She understood what had happened to Sirius and Harry last year had only worsened matters, but couldn't they at least keep it civil?

Harry asked why him? Why not Madam Pomfrey?

Phineas Nigellus' portrait called him impertinent, he'd never have allowed a student to ask such a question in his day!

"Oh how I've missed that," Sirius rolled his eyes heavily at that fart being brought up again.

Harry ignored him as Dumbledore explained Snape had far more experience with the Dark Arts.

"That is, true," Remus grudgingly agreed, though why Dumbledore had to make that sound like a good thing he couldn't fathom. After all, it was his specialty with the Dark Arts that had put him in with the Death Eaters in the first place, so clearly his superior knowledge hadn't been gained in any good light like the Order had.

St. Mungo's was sending him hourly reports, and she was expected to make a full recovery.

Harry asked where he was this weekend, but Dumbledore sidestepped, saying that would come in time.

"I should hope so, as much as he's been alluding to it from the start," James huffed, very sick of having so many answers dangled over his head.

Dumbledore pulled another vile of memories from his pocket, but Harry quickly said before he could dump them into the Pensive, telling him about Mundungus.

Dumbledore agreed he'd been made aware, and he'd gone underground after that confrontation. However, Harry need now be rest assured no more of Sirius' things would fall out of his possession.

"As if there's anything left." Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing full well any good thief would have already made off with anything of remote value.

Harry still kept going, asking if McGonagall had told Dumbledore his suspicions about Malfoy.

Harry felt an icy chill, as if a dementor had just breathed down his neck. He was just so sure, for a solid moment he was confident, but the vicious stab from within stopped him a hair's breadth before he could lock in on the idea anymore than an errant thought. He went cross-eyed, let out a vicious breath of pain, but as always was forced to wait, no matter how impatiently, for it all to make sense.

Dumbledore agreed he'd been informed, and he would be investigating anyone and everyone in Katie's accident. For now, they needed to focus on this.

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: If their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second?

"Yeah, I can agree with that," Sirius said with all the cheer he could. No one had missed Harry's little problem over there, but they were leaving him to it as clearly he was controlling whatever was troubling his mind.

However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

Dumbledore began by reminding where the story had left off, that young Merope had been in London, expecting.

Harry asked how he knew she'd been in London.

In answer, he swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

Dumbledore explained this as Caractacus Burke, founder of the shop whence the very necklace they'd just been discussing had come from.

The man spoke, revolving slowly on the spot as all like him did in the Pensive, of her coming along trying to sell Slytherin's locket. He'd been skeptical of course, but upon finding the real thing, gave her ten Galleons for it. Best deal he'd ever made.

"That's, practically thievery!" Lily yelped in a mixture of shock and disgust.

"That's the Burke store we know and loath," James agreed, his face drawn for this poor woman who had probably never even been outside her house before all this. That ten Galleons was likely the most gold she ever saw in her life, and she likely put it all to her infant. This all managed to grow more depressing the more he thought about it, that Merope may have actually made a good mother if she'd survived.

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

Harry was outraged for that price, but Dumbledore explained the circumstances of her being alone and pregnant, desperate for anything to get her through.

Harry insisted she could do magic, she could have gotten food or anything else she wanted.

"Not necessarily," Remus frowned in confusion of Harry. "The Weasley's situation should be enough for you to realize magic doesn't make us all at ease with life."

Harry wanted to persist his point, that the Weasleys struggled for money because of spellbooks and other things they had no choice but to buy, but food and other things should come along with much more ease? Then he really realized whom he was speaking with, and shut his trap. He'd never asked Remus for specifics of his life outside of here, and he didn't feel it his place to. You didn't need to, to grasp how hard life had been on him. Merope, an unpracticed witch with no one else to help, would have it even worse.

Dumbledore agreed perhaps, but it was of his guessing again that Merope had stopped using magic when Tom Sr. left her, she no longer wanted to be a witch.

James shook his head slowly as he heard that, he couldn't even imagine it. With the way Meropes life had gone though, he could almost see why she'd think that. Still, he wasn't convinced Dumbledore had the mark on this one, he could picture any number of things going on with her situation.

It could have been more reasons, her emotions so in despair it had sapped her powers, that had been known to happen. In any case, they were about to witness the results of Merope in the act of refusing to raise her wand, even to save her own life.

"She may not have even been able to, or known how," Lily said quietly as she brushed at her hair. "Birthing a child can be quite the complicated thing, if there aren't doctors around any number of problems could arise. She may have even just been sick, not taking care of herself properly, there's really no telling what magic could have done for her even if she had been around it."

Harry quietly asked, she wouldn't even stay alive for her son?

Lily's breath caught hard in her throat, she felt smothered at the very mention of this. Her own final words echoed through her mind, that she was willing to die for her child, leaving him without his parents as she'd know full well. She had to force herself to stop there, lest the pain of it all push into the here and now, reminding herself that whatever this woman's situation, no matter how much it was like her own, had already happened. Her's hadn't. Even if she had to choose the same in the end, it would still be her choice.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, asking if this could be Harry feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?

"Pity for the mother doesn't quite spew out into the spawn," Sirius huffed.

Harry quickly disagreed, he was just saying she'd had a choice, unlike his mother.

"Of course I did!" Harry's mother's voice came out a sharp snap, and he looked startled, even wounded for it. She'd kept herself very well put together, he'd had no idea what she'd been thinking of moments ago. "I could have, have-" she couldn't even say the despicable words, of letting Voldemort take him from her. "But I didn't, and I never would. There's always a choice Harry."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the only thing he could offer for his question he hadn't really thought through. The echo of the dementors again played through his mind. Voldemort had told her to step aside, and she'd refused, hence his very life he breathed now.

Dumbledore gently reminded she'd had a choice too.

Lily's face only burned that much more, that Dumbledore had to be the one to remind him of that. The loss of the life Harry had been deprived of never got easier to hear, that his headmaster would be the one to say that to him.

So had Merope, and she'd chosen death in spite of the son she was leaving behind. He asked Harry not to judge her too harshly, she did not have the same courage as Lily Potter had.

Dumbledore rose then, and Harry asked where they were going now.

Dumbledore said into his own memory. He should find it rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate.

Sirius snorted loudly, just to help ease some of the tension back out of the room for someone else showing such a high opinion of themselves. He was still ignored.

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again. . . . Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

Dumbledore brightly, pointed himself out, a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"I'm sure he was very hard to spot, you obviously needed this guidance," James did get a chuckle out of that at least, wrapping one arm tighter still around his wife who still looked distant.

Harry complimented the suite before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance,

Sirius full out laughed for that, while Harry didn't look remotely abashed.

finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once.

"Who only knocks once?" Remus muttered at that random detail.

After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

Dumbledore introduced himself, and asked to speak to the matron. The woman appraised him for a moment before bellowing at the top of her lungs over her shoulder for a Mrs. Cole.

The boys had no more been expecting Sirius to shout that at the top of his lungs, but Lily still managed to startle hardest of all, right out of her revere.

"Was that necessary?" She demanded of him.

"Yes," he agreed without looking over, but a satisfied smirk none-the-less in place he had her full, undivided attention again.

Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore and invited him in.

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

She was prescribing new sheets for Eric, who was oozing from those chicken pox of his.

"Did, chickens attack them?" James asked slowly, with genuine concern for wherever this place was.

"No, it's a Muggle disease, makes your skin get red spots all over that itch." Lily shrugged, recalling her fascination as a youngster when her whole class had them for a time except her, even Petunia had gotten them.

"What's that have to do with chickens?" He prodded further, pleased more than anything she was back to chatting with them again without that horror of her future in her eyes, or some secret she wasn't sharing with them in her smile.

"It's more like, it sort of looks like a chickens pecked you all over," she tried to visualize it for him, but when James just looked more baffled than ever she burst into giggles and waved Sirius on.

Then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"That's about as likely with this man around," Sirius agreed.

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination,

"I still have those moments," James agreed, deciding for now to stop lingering on the idea of a chicken chasing a bundle of kids around.

she said feebly, to come up to her office.

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

Dumbledore spoke of the reason for his visit, Tom Riddle.

She asked if he was family, and Dumbledore explained no, he was a teacher and here to place Tom in his school, Hogwarts.

"I'm surprised he didn't lie about that," Harry said, wondering if all normal exchanges went like this, rather than Hagrid bursting a door down for him.

"He's no reason to," Remus reminded, "even if she went and looked it up, Dumbledore would produce some paperwork for her."

She asked why the interest, and he explained his name had been down since he was born. When Mrs. Coal continued to be skeptical of this, he produced a blank sheet of paper and handed it to her. Her eyes lost focus for a moment as she 'read' it over, but handed it back saying that was all in order.

Harry gaped at that one, looking wildly around for some kind of explanation, while they all laughed at his expression. It was still nice to see him confounded by magic.

"I didn't say it was useful paperwork," Remus said around more laughter, as if that was all the explanation needed.

Harry rolled his eyes but let it go, deciding it was enough explanation for now. Obviously he still had more to learn in his next year of school.

Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before. She offered him a glass regardless, and he happily accepted.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

He asked of Tom Riddle's history? He was born here in this orphanage?

Mrs. Coal agreed, saying she remembered it clearly, that New Year's Eve. She'd just started.

"Oh good, I always wanted to know his birthday," Sirius said dryly.

"We're dishing out plenty of socks this holiday, I'm sure we can ship along a pair for him," James rolled his eyes.

"Poisonous socks," Remus muttered, causing Harry to snort in surprise and James and Sirius to exchange a heavily amused smirk. Harry clearly hadn't heard all of Remus' mutters, but he would be now.

This girl had arrived staggering up the steps. Didn't take long after that, the baby had been delivered in an hour, and she was dead in the next.

That really was just, sad. Sirius could have connected many things to the moment of birthing Voldemort into their world, but honestly the start to it all was so depressing! The megalomaniac would be carrying that on to this day and never let them forget it, it seemed.

Dumbledore asked if she'd had any last words, and Mrs. Cole spoke only of what she'd named the boy. She'd first hoped he'd look like his papa, and Mrs. Cole wouldn't lie, this mother was no beauty.

"Lovely," Lily said tartly.

and then she told he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father.

James's mouth still twisted with a nasty sneer for that. No child should be named for such a creature as that Gaunt...though he supposed if there was one exception it was Voldemort.

They'd wondered whether she came from a circus,

"Not far off honestly," Remus huffed.

and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. She died soon after that without another word.

No one of any of those names had ever come looking for the boy, so here he'd stayed. She continued without prompting he was a funny boy.

Dumbledore asked for specifics, and he got them. He hadn't cried as a baby-

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

She confirmed he had a place at this school? Nothing she spoke of now would change that?

Dumbledore agreed.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush he scared the other children.

"Oh joy, so he really was a psychopath even as a kid," James muttered in disgust. Why were they listening to this again? It was only more of a reminder where Harry could have ended up, where he almost had and should have been rather than with those Dursleys who cared nothing for him. At least this Mrs. Cole had a clear concern for the kids in her care.

Dumbledore clarified he was a bully?

Mrs. Cole suspected it, but she'd never caught him in the act, some very nasty stories though. Billy Stubbs rabbit hadn't hung itself from those rafters.

Lily choked in shock while all of the boys grimaced uncomfortably. A murderer indeed, even as a child, for something like an animal was never a good start to life.

She was jiggered though if she could figure out how he'd done it. Then there had been that summer outing, taking all the orphans to the beach. Amy and Dennis had gone off with Tom to explore some caves, they'd never been the same when they'd come back.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the tight pull on his mind sharp once again for something he was sure he should have been connecting with, but he just ran his hand through his hair in agitation and wished his mind to shut up with its uselessness.

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed from all the gin consumed, her gaze was steady. She told without remorse not many would be sorry to see the back of him.

Dumbledore explained this was not permanent, he would have to return here, at least over his summer holidays.

Mrs. Cole called that better than a rusty poker whack on the nose.

She got up then, surprisingly steady on her feet, though two-thirds of the bottle were gone, and asked if he'd like to see the boy?

Dumbledore agreed at once.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Harry saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Sounds better off than you were," Lily muttered so quietly she didn't even seem to realize she'd said it, but James heard, tightening his arm all the more around her as he realized they'd been thinking the same thing.

As they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered, telling Tom this was Mr. Dunderbore.

"I'm going to start calling him that," Sirius said at once with conviction.

Harry and the two Dumbledore's entered the room,

James got a good chuckle out of that.

and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale.

"Urgh, that's almost as bad as his squashed snake face he has now," Sirius said in disgust for Dumbledore trying to humanize this constant Bludger on their life. The full force of his words wouldn't hold though, he could deny no more than anyone this was still just a kid, even one that had already grown up to be what they knew. He wanted to hate him on principle, but while it was there, it was not the only thing he could focus on.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

Dumbledore spoke first, asking how he was doing, holding out his hand to be shaken.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

Dumbledore continued, using his title now, but Riddle repeated this sharply. He started throwing out all manner of accusations, thinking Dumbledore a doctor? Had that women sent someone to look at him?

"I'm sure he needs it," James huffed.

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

Dumbledore tried to politely deny this, but Riddle shouted at him to tell the truth!

"What an impertinent child," Lily huffed, thinking he could speak to any adult that way.

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. He asked who Dumbledore was?

Dumbledore repeated his title, and explained his place in Hogwarts as a teacher.

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leaped from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. He shouted this was some trick to get him in an asylum!

"I'd like to lock you in one surely, it's to bad Dumbledore didn't have the forethought," Remus sniffed.

Riddle insisted he hadn't done anything, and Dumbledore could ask the others for proof!

Dumbledore patiently explained he was not from an asylum, and nobody was forcing Tom to do anything.

"I know Dumbledore's calm about everything," Sirius said with only mild sarcasm, "but now I'm wondering just how many people think they're being shipped off to a nut house. Personally I wouldn't have minded so much, couldn't be worse than the one I grew up in."

Riddle sneered he'd like to see them try.

"More like try to force him out," Lily said bitterly.

"That basilisk couldn't have gotten him rather than Myrtle," James agreed.

Dumbledore continued Hogwarts was a place for people with special abilities, not a school for mad people.

"Eh," Sirius waved his hand vaguely, eyeing his best friend obviously. "A lot of them do seem to wind up there."

"You're the poster child," James agreed without looking over.

It is a school of magic.

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"He was, looking at, each of his, eyes?" Remus muttered in confusion.

"I don't get it, did Dumbledore have a lazy eye during this conversation..." James trailed off in confusion.

"We always knew he was mad," Sirius shrugged without concern.

He repeated magic in a whisper. That's what he could do?

Dumbledore kindly asked what was it he could do exactly?

Riddle breathed with excitement now, how he could make things move without touching them, make animals do what he wanted without training them. He could hurt people, if he wanted to.

This really hadn't been very funny to begin with, and the feeling just continued to grow worse with each passing moment this little Tom spoke.

"Bloody hell, he's a menace," Sirius noted like he was eyeing a coming storm.

"What, made him like that," Remus was grasping for words he wasn't even sure there was an answer for. "I'd have thought we'd seen evidence by now the kids picked on him because he was magic, that's why he'd hate them, but from everything we've heard it's the complete opposite. He's using magic against them because, he likes it!"

"I, I really must wonder if it wasn't that love potion." Lily said hoarsely. "I keep thinking, over and over, I've never heard of a child being conceived under the influence of one. Maybe it had, some effect on the child then."

"Oh great, so not only did she refuse to even look for an option to stay alive for the child she forced into this world, it's all her fault it was this way from the start!" Sirius was getting angrier at Merope by the second, looking for something to vent on that wasn't a kid. It still wasn't easy, he couldn't even work himself into a proper temper because the image kept lingering of some girl Lily's age, their age, without anyone to care for or turn to.

"Sirius." He didn't need the soft rebuke James gave, but it still helped cool him, preventing anything else that could have come next.

"I still don't see a solution in all this," Remus sighed. "Is there a cure? If there was and he'd actually feel something resembling human emotions again, would it even matter, it certainly wouldn't really make up for all the crimes he's committed."

"You'd think Dumbledore would have recognized all this himself before inviting him to learn more magic to do more harm," James agreed.

"Maybe he thought he could, I don't know, fix him, help him, certainly not make him a monster." Sirius finished, while Harry felt Remus flinch slightly beside him. He glanced over in surprise, but didn't understand that look he quickly hid from his face before the other two could see it.

Sirius certainly hadn't anymore to say on this though, what had happened, happened, and he honestly doubted he'd see anything in Dumbledore's own memory the man wouldn't have already spotted, so when no one else offered anything he kept going restlessly for this to be over. Not that anything else going on in Harry's life was much more fun to be getting to.

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

He'd always known he was different, special.

"Most of our kind do," Lily agreed softly. Agreed with Voldemort of all people! She never forgot though, those years before that weird kid Snape on the block had finally tracked her down and told her what she was. How, special, she'd been, unable to help but use Voldemort's own choice of word in understanding.

Dumbledore agreed he was right, though he was no longer smiling as he told Tom Riddle he was a wizard.

Riddle asked if he was one as well, and when Dumbledore agreed, Riddle at once told him to prove it in the same tone as he'd told him to tell the truth.

Dumbledore asked if this meant he was taking his place in Hogwarts then?

When Riddle snapped of course, Dumbledore imposed on him this would then mean he would be referred to as Professor, or Sir.

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an recognizably polite voice, how sorry he was, and then properly asked him to show him some magic.

"Urgh," Sirius' nose crinkled in disgust for not only that mockery of politeness he'd so used as well. He hated any idea he'd done anything remotely similar to this cretin.

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious.

"No," Lily corrected. "Much like Hagrid setting that grate aflame for you, a little magic is always allowed in the beginning, to ah, prove a point I should say."

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there.

"Oh, Dumbledore wouldn't really," James scoffed at once.

"Still, certainly not a kind trick on the kid," Sirius began, before his words caught up with him and he finished venomously, "other than this one."

But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand, demanding where he could get one of those.

Dumbledore agreed all in good time, but for now, it seemed something was trying to escape that wardrobe.

Sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it.

A soft snort of laughter echoed around, before Remus spoke up what they were all wondering, "what did Dumbledore do?"

Sirius shushed him, they were now all listening more intently than ever. Here, something could finally show to be the purpose of all this, something Voldemort actually cared for?

For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

Dumbledore instructed him to open the door.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

Tom was encouraged further to take it out.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

Dumbledore asked if there was anything in that box he shouldn't have?

Riddle agreed.

Harry couldn't help half shouting in his excitement, "what kind of magic is that? How did Dumbledore even know to use that spell, to know that wasn't his?"

It was rather odd to be sure, seeing Harry getting so worked up over magic as if he were eleven himself again, but James still answered, "certainly there's a few spells one could do to check ownership of a few objects. After all Mrs. Cole and Riddle himself said, I'm not terribly surprised he's stolen things from kids as well."

Harry waved Sirius on impatiently now, knowing something massive was coming.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them.

The others merely looked more baffled than ever why Voldemort had cared about such things, when it had been clear nobody of significance in his life had left him any of that. Souvenirs, perhaps, from his time in that orphanage? Though they'd been given no inkling so far he valued anyone, certainly not close enough to be given a gift.

Harry however looked ecstatic, his eyes lighting with some dim understanding he couldn't yet fully grasp, but did not need any extra sense telling him to pay attention now, he was riveted.

Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

Dumbledore calmly said he was to return those to the owner, and he would know if this wasn't done. Thievery was not tolerated at Hogwarts.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed;

"Of course not, that's an actual human emotion," James muttered in disgust, honestly believing Lily's theory more every line. Did he have any emotion in him? Obviously he did, as Harry had been all to painfully aware of last year, but then what was this...this lack of humanity pouring from such a young soul? There was just no way this was natural, as if he'd ever needed that confirmed considering what Voldemort was now.

he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he agreed in a colorless voice.

Dumbledore continued Hogwarts was a place to learn control of magic. Before, he had surely only inadvertently been using his powers for anything of ill intent, but this would not be tolerated at school.

"Inadvertently I'm sure," Sirius mock quoted.

Such acts could cause expulsion. Tom was not the first to have his magic run wild, but now he knew the truth, if this continued the Ministry of Magic would punish this severely.

"Starting with all the good threats, then," Harry huffed.

"Not that it did him any good," Remus agreed with heavy sarcasm, not missing the irony Harry had been under threat of both, where as likely the perfect Tom Riddle they'd heard of in the past never had.

All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws.

Riddle politely agreed.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly he hadn't any money.

Dumbledore drew a leather money-pouch from his pocket, explaining there was a fund for that. He may have to buy some of his things second hand, such as spellbooks-

Riddle interrupted where to buy such things, without thanking him for the money he was now holding.

Lily tisked quietly, but considering the many unspeakable things he had, or in this case would do, it really was a passing insult to her.

He was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

Dumbledore explained Diagon Alley, he could escort him there?

Riddle said that wasn't necessary, he traveled London all the time by himself, then caught himself and more politely asked for directions.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage,

Lily couldn't help the clear disapproval that time though, cutting off with a heavier scoff. "He's just a boy, surely he needs supervision."

"Maybe it would have stopped him growing an early interest in places like Knockturn Alley," Harry agreed, vividly remembering their protest of his short time alone there at eleven.

"I think that's already been set in stone," Sirius disagreed with an eye roll. "Besides, the kid turned down the help, I certainly wouldn't stop him not minding himself and getting run over."

Lily turned her scowl on him but couldn't really snap for that. She still couldn't make it sit right in her head like he so clearly could, this was still just a kid.

and finished he'd have the right place when he found Tom the barman, easy enough to remember. They shared a name.

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

Dumbledore caught on, asking that he dislike the name Tom?

Riddle muttered there were a lot of Tom's, before asking if Dumbledore had known his father? He'd been told his name was Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore gently said he had no knowledge of this person, and Riddle continued it must be his father. It couldn't be his mother, or she wouldn't have died, she couldn't be magic.

All five of them frowned, another wash of sympathy for the soul that was Tom Riddle. They didn't know what to call that moment. Innocence, for his lack of knowledge that even magic could never really stop that? Callousness on his mother's behalf? It was certainly a true foreshadowing of his future nature.

Riddle changed the subject then, asking about getting to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore explained that was all on the ticket, and the date of the departure from King's Cross.

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again.

"I guess I should feel flattered it's not just Hagrid who leaves out the detail about that barrier," Harry muttered for himself.

Taking it, Riddle said he could speak to snakes. Was that normal?

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"Why would he think that would impress him?" Remus asked with a lingering frown for the boys logic. "He's already mentioned he could control animals at will, and Dumbledore hadn't really reacted to that. Why would speaking to a particular species be of anymore significance?"

"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius reminded.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment before saying it was unusual, but not unheard of. Then Dumbledore made his departure, and Harry and Dumbledore did as well, landing squarely in the present-day office.

They both sat down, and Harry said Riddle had believed that faster than him. He hadn't believed Hagrid at first.

"I'm sure a wide range of reactions exist out there," Lily agreed absently. She'd thought Snape a loon until she'd been convinced, Harry had taken some convincing, and Riddle had believed it instantly. It sort of made her want to do a study on all the varied reactions a Muggleborn could have, if it wasn't so thoroughly depressing her son had found himself in that category.

Harry then simply asked if Dumbledore had known?

Dumbledore elaborated, had he known he'd just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?

"I'd, be genuinely impressed if he did." Remus muttered.

"I'm sure if he had, he wouldn't have let his life go on as long as he had," James said belligerently.

Lily wasn't so sure, thinking about what had been said earlier and Dumbledore's willingness to try and help others. What was the point of no return for him then? Was there one?

No, he had not. The evidence had been very plain and upfront there was something about him, that led him to strangling animals and seeking isolation and dominance over his peers. Harry interjected he was also a Parselmouth.

"You already knew that?" James frowned at Harry in confusion why he'd pointed this out.

"Suppose up until that point I would have thought he wouldn't realize it until later in life," Harry shrugged.

Dumbledore agreed, but his ability to speak to serpents did not make him nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"I'd hope so," they all muttered agreement to that.

He noticed the late hour then, and said before they departed for the night, he wanted to make sure Harry had noted a few things. Firstly, his aversion to having the name Tom.

"I'll be sure to give him a more original name," Sirius said deadpan.

"Why not even go from another anagram of his own," James answered with a smirk Lily was already trying to read around, though not before he started with, "I've noticed a certain few letters spell out the word-"

She didn't care enough to let him finish.

Harry nodded.

He also highlighted his ability of being self-sufficient. He had no help, and no want of it. Many of his current Death Eaters claimed they alone were in his confidence, but Dumbledore was sure this was an allusion. Voldemort had never had a friend, nor he believed, did he ever want one.

Putting this into the perspective of his adult self was helping them really, it certainly pushed off their confusion at that notion and put disgust right back in place discussing this vile plague on humanity in their life.

Lastly, that box of stolen articles from the children in the orphanage, his trophies, souvenirs even, of particular acts of his unpleasant magic.

"I, can see what he's going for," Remus said slowly, his eyes suddenly widening at the possibility. They'd been half right in their guess, but gotten the motive wrong then.

"I'm still not sure what the point of those are," Sirius had his head cocked to the side curiously. "So he does value objects then, nicked something from people he's murdered, maybe. Would stealing his closet full of knick-knacks of the dead put him off enough for us to kill him then?"

James laughed at the absurd way Sirius managed to phrase that, but Harry was sitting right on the edge of his seat now, his face trained on the book while his godfathers words spiraled sickeningly in his head, forbidden to look upon, longing to know.

Harry should bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, would be important later.

"Well Dumbledore certainly thinks so," Lily sighed, wishing the man would just spit it out no matter the hour, this felt more important than a bedtime. She didn't like the bead of sweat her son didn't even seem aware of tracing down his taught face.

Harry was dismissed, and he got to his feet to leave. He stopped however, when he saw the ring was no longer there. He turned back to Dumbledore curiously, and asked if he'd tracked down the mouth organ next?

Dumbledore approved of Harry's guess, but corrected that mouth organ, had only ever been a mouth organ.

Harry swallowed loudly, but no one needed that to feel the tension all along the room. What else had that ring been then? Lily read the final line carefully,

On that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed.

but when it yielded no good results she turned to the others for some kind of explanation that was certainly evading her.

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 15

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because HELLO NEW SPOOKY FRIEND

Last times in book: Kylan, Naia, and Tavra have traveled to the Caves of Grot to find a magic firca that will help them warn all Gelfling about the Skeksis. A Grottan gives them a startle by lurking above a tunnel entrance.

Chapter 15

Kylan and Naia meet with Maudra Argot

"Shadowling,” Tavra growled.

“Silverling,” the strange Gelfling replied, with a casual but equal distaste.

Huh! Time for more Gelfling prejudice.

Its hinted at later this chapter why the Grottan might be annoyed at a Vapran but I have no idea why the Vapran would have strong feelings about the Grottan.

So let’s get a look at our new friend, Amri.

Pulling back his hood, his skin was pale like moonlight, with silky silver hair like Tavra’s, shaved on one side and falling to his shoulder on the other. Had Kylan seen him aboveground, he might have mistaken him for a Vapra - except for his eyes. With his face hidden by the shadow of his hood, Kylan had at first thought he had no eyes at all. Now he could see two, large and black, with no whites in them. It was like looking into one of the inky ponds that dappled the cave’s basin floor.

He had to be Gelfling, based on the shape of his face and body but he held himself differently. Like a river plant, Kylan thought, or maybe even an eel or fish, eerily graceful as he gazed down on them with an unreadable expression. His movements were as fluid as if he were underwater, slow and seamless.

Maybe that’s why the Vapran and Grottan don’t like each other.

They both want to be the pale, white-haired pretty Gelfling clan and are like ‘one of us is going to have to change.’

Speaking of change, I wonder what did between the books and the show.

In the show, the Grottan have a greenish tint to their skin, like the Drenchen. On the topic, Spriton have darker skin in the YA continuity compared to the show. Not a big deal, things got changed around between show and books but I’m wondering if this was a case where the books were working off an earlier version of the series bible.

Having the Grottan be super pale actually does make a lot of sense, since they live in caves. Cave-dwelling creatures tend to be pale because they don’t need as much protection from light.

Naia introduces the group, although omits Tavra’s title since there’s already animosity without it being known she’s the All-Maudra’s daughter.

Amri just stares at the introductions then tells the group to follow him.

Kylan looked up as they passed through the center of the cavern, losing count of the tunnel entrances and walkways. Now that the silence had been broken, eh saw silhouettes of other Grottan Gelfling stepping out of the shadows, gathering in groups of twos and threes on the ledges to watch them pass. They were all ghostly, clothing in black cloaks like their guide. Only their faces, hands, and bare feet showed, slipping in and out of the shadows like starlight.

Ah, so that’s where the whispers were coming from. The peanut gallery.

Naia asks if this is really the Caves of Grot, which Amri confirms but says that the Grottan call it Domrak which Kylan translates as “Place-in-Shadows.”

“A fair translation in the common tongue. Others have called it the Cave of Obscurity. Land-in-Darkness. Hole in Ground. Either way, grot means crypt. Though in truth, nothing has died here.”

I love that one of its names is just. Hole in Ground. Hee.

Kylan decides that Domrak means home, not just place.

Home-in-Shadows has a nice ring to it.

But if grot means crypt, then Caves of Crypt. Which sounds weird.

And could you translate, Grottan as cryptid? Heh.

Amri takes them up a long spiraling stairway and like other parts of the cave, it is just lousy with dream-etching. Kylan reads bits and pieces of stories as they climb.

They reach a triangular archway carved to look like a colony of hollerbats, which sounds amazing. Amri goes in to speak with Maudra Argot and when he pops back out he says that Kylan and Naia can come in but Tavra has to wait outside.

Tavra snorted through her nose, and Kylan wished she hadn’t. If they wanted to gain the trust and alliance of every clan, they would have to be respectful, even if they did not get the same respect in return. Shouldn’t a daughter of the All-Maudra know better diplomacy? Huffing, she turned away and crossed her arms.

“I have no interest in paying respects to a Shadowling bat, anyway,” she said, turning her nose up. “Be quick about it.”

“Don’t start any fights,” Kylan said. “Please.”

Hope springs eternal, Kylan.

The maudra chamber has exposed crystal veins lacing the walls, but with the crystal still showing as clear and pure. The Darkening hasn’t seemed to reach this deep. Possibly the tree protecting them, as in the show.

Seated on the stone floor, cross-legged, was an old Gelfling woman. Her wings were sheer, almost completely transparent, draped out behind her like a crystalline pool. Her eyes were black, like all the Grottan, but bore the mark of time. Her kind, wrinkled face might have seen more than one ninet - if the greater seasons even affected the Grottan clan, so deep in the earth.

Apparently, a ninet is roughly one hundred trine. Wow!

Kylan and Naia very politely introduce themselves.

“It must be important, indeed, for daylighters to bother making the journey into the so-feared Grot. Amri here tells me you have a Vapra with you as well. Has the great Mayrin finally invited us to the Silverling capital? Ho ho hoo! Don’t answer that. I know it is not true. So tell me, children, why do you stray from the daylight?”

She seems fun. I like her.

And reasonably enough, the Grottan dislike the Vapran because the Vapran tend to pretend they don’t exist. Rude.

Kylan tells Maudra Argot that they’re looking for the firca of Gyr the Song Teller and that he read in a book that it was entrusted to the Grottan.

“Oh yes! That. What do you want with Gyr’s bone firca?”

“You have it here?” Kylan cried, forgetting all formality. “It’s real?”

“Of course it’s real. How else did you think all that dream-etching got on the walls? All of us can read here, of course, but it would have taken a whole ninet to do just half the caves the regular way. We don’t have time for that. Yes, yes, the firca is real. It is in the Tomb. Ho ho! But I’m not going to just hand it over to you younglings without an explanation first. Why do you need it? What will you do with it? And so on.”

Score one for a random story you read in a random book!

Of course, they now have the problem of explaining why they need it. If Argot is loyal to the Skeksis, they could be in big trouble. Heck, if she’s like Maudra Fara and just afraid to act, she might refuse to help.

The best way would be for Naia to dreamfast with Maudra Argot to show what she had seen. A conclusion that Naia also immediately comes to.

“Then dreamfast with me. I will show you what I’ve seen. You can decide whether it’s an explanation or not.”

“So you think I’ll trust your memories, no matter what they are?” Maudra Argot asked, tilting her head in the other direction. When she got a confused, uncomfortable silence in reply, she cackled again. “Ho! Don’t answer that, either. I am not afraid of your dreams, little Drenchen. Show me, and we will see where they lead us.”

Hey remember when I said it’d be boring to watch Kylan watch someone else dreamfast and that’s why he had to do it with Rian instead of Naia?

Well, I was wrong. Watching someone else dreamfast takes like a couple seconds.

The maudra let out a long grave hmmmmm.

“You have the gift of dreamfast, that is for certain,” she said. “Never have I seen dreams so vividly... It was almost as if I had my eyes back! Ho ho hoo! What a delight you are, my Drenchen daughter.”

Naia repeats some of the information aloud for Amri’s benefit and says they need the firca to warn all Gelfling.

“The Stonewood will be first, until the forest is empty of their tales and noisy dances. Then the Spriton to the south. Perhaps they will go west next, to the Crystal Sea - perhaps north, to take the capital itself. It is only a matter of time before they come for us, I suppose, even if we are the discarded relish on the banquet tray. Ho ho hoo!”

She described an ugly future, but her chuckle was so light, it was almost the giggle of a youngling.

“Nothing but a garnish on top of a Vapra delicacy!” Amri added. The comment sent the old maudra into a new fit, her little body shaking with laughter.

What a fun, weird old lady.

Kylan and Naia are uncomfortable with how funny she finds the extinction of the Gelfling clans and just sit quietly. Kylan reflects that maybe the situation is so horrible, that there’s nothing to do but laugh but can’t bring himself to join.

“Ho ho ho hooo! Oh, don’t sound so quiet. We’re not making light of the situation. This old maudra has heard many trine come and go. Just when I think I’ve heard it all, the Skeksis surprise me with something new and cruel. I can’t help but think Thra is telling a wicked song-for-laughs... Or maybe it is me who is old and mad and laughing when there are no jokes being told.”

Think about being so old that you think you know everything the world can throw at you and then hearing the most horrible thing you never knew.

I guess maybe all you can do is laugh.

Although, she’s a pretty laughy individual anyway.

Unsure of how to react to any of that, Naia just does Drenchen hard-talk and directly asks for the firca. And adds that its important that the Gelfling come together to resist the Skeksis because they won’t be able to do anything if they’re at odds.

“We Grottan have remained out of the affairs of the daylighters; ours was a different burden to bear, here in Domrak. But you are right. The Skeksis will never want the essence of an old maudra like me, but my children... even the lazy ones like Amri. We are all Gelfling. I’ll give you the firca. I’ll even give you Amri. He will show you to the Tomb of Relics and then go with you to Ha’rar on behalf of our oft-forgotten clan.”

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!

New party member!

Amri is less thrilled than I am, protesting that he doesn’t want to hang out with snooty snoots in Ha’rar but Argot tells him to suck it up. She already knows that he sneaks out of the caves to gather alchemy ingredients and she’s tired of his disruptive experiments.

“Take your maudra’s offer, and come back when you are grown.”

Sweet dunk on Amri.

Then she picks up her weaving which is a polite indication that the conversation is over so Naia and Kylan leave, followed by Amri. Although they hear Argot talking to herself as they leave.

“Damned Skeksis. Your time has come, at long last. Ho ho hoo...”

This was a very productive meeting!

[berryhoneypie]

Hi i’ve followed you for a while and you’ve made a few posts about your career. I have no idea what to do with my life but I’m really interested in what you do. Could you explain it more? I’m kinda uncomfortable coming off of anon but if you want i can message you. Thank you!!

omg this is so cool! This is gonna be a long post so bear with me. First off let’s start with education.

Education: Not sure how it is for all states but here in NY you need to get in to an accredited surgical tech program. It’s a 2 year degree but I believe you can go for 4 years. If you do the bachelors degree there’s more room for moving up, like going back to PA school or becoming a surgical first assist. You’ll have to take classes like anatomy, microbiology, ethics, pharmacology, and the basics your college will require. I went to community college and it was an amazing program. During your schooling you’ll be going to clinical, where you go to hospitals and scrub into surgeries with a supervising surgical tech scrubbed with you. My clinical was Thursday and Friday 7am-3pm. It’s a tough program, I won’t sugarcoat it. College kicked my ass. Also be warned, there really isn’t much room to move up as a tech, you’re pretty much stuck with scrubbing unless you go back to school. Whereas if you get your RN you can do a whole lot more. Majority of surgical techs go back to become a nurse. After you graduate you have to sit down for your CST exam which is 175 questions and you need a 102 to pass. From there on, you need to do what’s called CEUs (continuing education credits). These are provided by the AST (association of surgical techs) they have some free ones but majority of credits will have to be paid for. These are gained by going to conferences and doing exams on the AST website. You have to earn 60 CEUs every 4 years but i believe they’re changing that to something that you have to do it every 2 years. If you don’t want to do this, you’ll have to retake the CST exam every 2 years and the exam is $250 each time, and there’s no guarantee you’ll pass. When you get a job you’ll be on orientation for 3-6 months and then you’ll be a full grown surgical tech

Pay: it depends on your state but the average for surgical techs in NY is $26-$28 an hour. NY is one of the highest paid states for techs. You are the least educated and lowest paid person in the OR. You can go on the AST website and they have a map of wages for every state.

Duties: oh boy, this is gonna be long LOL. Your main job and main focus is maintaining the sterile field during surgery. I think it’ll be easier to just explain a day in the life. Before my first case of the day I like to see which OR I’ve been assigned to. That will be your room for the entire day but it will be different doctors and different surgeries throughout your shift. From there, I go to what’s called a “case cart” that is made in sterile processing. There is a cart for each surgery scheduled for the day with the patients name and the surgeons preference card. The preference card is extremely important. This card will tell you what supplies you need to have in the OR that the surgeon wants so it’s important to check the cart before the procedure begins. Then I head to the OR and make sure all of the supplies are in there (for example sometimes there isn’t an OR bed in there or enough IV poles so you have to stay on top of it.) Before the surgery starts, it’s your job and the nurses job to get the room ready. First, you’ll drape what’s called a back table. This is your main table where all of the sterile supplies will be. Once the drape is on, it’s sterile and you can’t touch it until you are sterile. You have to scrub into surgery (3-5 minute timed scrub followed by gowning and gloving yourself). While you’re scrubbing your nurse will be opening sterile supplies onto the back table. Once you’re scrubbed and the nurse ties up your gown, you go to your back table and begin organizing. You open your blades, your basins, sponges, and most importantly your instrument trays. Instrument trays are put together by sterile processing based on various procedures. It’s your job to know what instruments your doctor will want to use. Your main instruments go onto whats called a mayo stand (another thing you need to drape and keep sterile it’s a small table that you wheel over and prop over the patient during surgery). The mayo stand is your god, your temple. You organize it however you need it to be. Be warned, surgeons don’t care about how neat you keep it so you will be constantly reorganizing the instruments since they just throw it back on the mayo haphazardly. SUPER IMPORTANT: you and the RN have to perform the surgical count. This is where we count every blade, every sponge, every instrument, and anything else that can get lost in the body. You count before surgery, you count before closing the body, and you count one more time before the patient is out of the room. You can count as many times as you want but you gotta at least do 3 counts. It’s tedious and my least favorite part of the job. Once the patient is in the room, you gown and glove the surgeons. You assist in draping the patient (which is super hard until you get used to it) and then you throw off your cords. The cords are for what’s called a bovie (every surgeon uses it), and your suction tubing. Some surgeries require power drills and other wires so you have to keep all of it organized. During the surgery, you stand right next to the doctor. They’ll ask for an instrument, and you hand it to them. In school you’ll learn as many instruments you can (i think i’ve learned up to 600 instruments by now) and the proper passing techniques. The surgeon cannot do his job if you aren’t doing yours. Below i’ve added pictures of a back table and a mayo stand for an ankle replacement that I set up, with labels!

Warnings: This is a thankless job. Nobody knows we exist in the outside world. You’ll be on your feet your entire shift. You need to be strong, in order to hold heavy things like amputated limbs, retractors, and fun stuff like that. You will see people die, and you will save people’s lives. Blood is unpredictable, it can go anywhere so don’t wear shoes you like, and wear eye protection. Doctors are stressed and tense, they will yell at you. Majority of surgeons are men, so it can be an aggressive environment. Surgical techs will yell at you. Nurses will yell at you. The OR has a mentality of “eat the young” and they will, but it’ll make you a better and stronger tech. Surgeries move fast, you need to be paying attention the entire time. A lot of instruments look the same, it will take time to be able to differentiate them. We don’t get paid what we are deserved and our union reps are pretty useless. If you work at a hospital, you will have to take call, and overtime. Majority of the time though, it’s an 8 hour shift, 5 days a week or 10 hour shifts 4 days a week. Majority of surgeons like to listen to music while operating and it’s mainly cool dad bbq music. The smell of burning flesh takes a long time to get used to, but you have to get used to it. You’re exposed to a lot of carcinogens.

Pros: this is an amazing job despite the adversities. You get to see AMAZING things. I’ve seen babies born, i’ve watched organ transplants, gunshot wounds, stabbings, broken bones, one time we opened someone’s face and took out all of their sinuses and their entire eyeball so their face was just a giant hole and i had a rare glimpse into anatomy ive never seen outside of a textbook. If that’s your thing like it is mine, this job is good for you. Everything is clean and neat and organized which is my favorite part of the job. You work very closely with other people so you guys will bond and become a family. You become friends with doctors so you can ask for free medical advice LOL. This career is so rewarding and i find myself choosing it over and over and over again.