#this deck is going to be spoiled since its one made from scratch

[27-27-gruff-triplets]

Finally got the last of the cards I needed for my satyr tribal commander deck! :3 So excited to test them out uwu

[princess-hope-selfships]

☕ Chapter Two: Spill the Deets ☕

Summary: Angel Dust and Dazzler go out for late night coffee, and Angel confronts Dazzler about the feelings she has for a certain someone.

Word Count: 2960

Tags: self insert x canon, oc x canon, yet another Alastor selfshipper, aroace self insert, Angel is a cheeky but very caring platonic f/o and I love him so much, Angel is BPD, nugget piggy my beloved, unrequited love OR IS IT, (Farquaad point meme) the gray aro has fallen in love with the other gray aro!

A/N: I love Angel Dust so much 😭😭😭 He is so fun to write! I loved writing my s/i interacting with him, like I wanna be his friend so bad. He's def bpd in my headcanon <3 Anywho it was crazy rereading this one, I've improved so much since this chapter 😂 ALSO I WRITE TAGS SPECIFICALLY WEIRDLY SO NOBODY FUCKING FINDS ME I DO NOT WANT TO BREACH CONTAINMENT SORRY FOR MY WEIRD TAGS LMAO

taglist: @goldenworldsabound and uh that's it!! if you wanna be added to my fic taglist just let me know 💖

“Yeah, large chai tea latte, iced, extra sugar,” Dazzler ordered, pulling out her wallet. The barista nodded, Dazzler paid, and she stepped aside to wait with Angel Dust. Angel was tapping away on his phone with two hands, and using a third to pat Fat Nuggets on the head. The little hellpig had his whole head sticking out of Angel’s purse, sniffing eagerly at the biscotti Angel held in his remaining hand, just out of the pig’s reach.

“Awww, lil Nuggie, you’re so cuuute,” Dazzler cooed, leaning in towards the pig. She reached up to scratch his chubby little cheek, and the pig grunted happily as he leaned in to her touch.

“He’s been suuuch a lil baby today,” Angel sighed, looking down at Nuggets, mocking an expression of disappointment. “Did you hear him whining when I told him no biscotti?”

“How could I not? He was sooo upset,” Dazzler giggled, tugging her purse’s strap over her shoulder. “So spoiled! You still got your little numnums, though, huh?”

“I can’t say no to my little fatty boy,” Angel cooed, reaching down to pinch the pig’s cheek. Angel tucked his phone in a side pocket of his purse as he stepped forward to grab the drink he’d ordered, freshly set out by the barista. “Listen, I’m gonna stake out a spot and give the little oinker his treat before he breaks outta purse prison.” 

Dazzler smiled bright up at Angel, watching as he walked away. She glanced over at the counter, watching the workers for a moment before she turned towards the little trinkets on the wall beside her. There was quite an array of little crafted goods for sale here, as there always were. Hell was so weird. Sure, the people down here were damned to an eternal life of suffering, but at least they had time to make cute jewelry and keychains and coffee shops and damn good caffeinated drinks. 

“Dazzler,” one of the workers called, placing her drink on the counter. Her ears perked upright, twitching as she pranced over to the counter and grabbed it up. 

“Thank yoooou~!” She sang out, offering the worker a big smile and a cheeky wink, delighting in seeing how it made them visibly flustered. She yoinked up a straw and stuck it into her drink as she turned and wandered further into the shop, a smirk on her lips. Always an ego boost to make some rando swoon.

After a few moments of concerned searching and worrying Angel ditched her for some reason, she finally spotted him in a secluded corner of the shop, at a booth made of comfy cushions and decked with pillows.

She took a sip of her drink as she approached. Angel was unpacking Nuggets from his purse, trying to hold the biscotti away as the pig attempted to chomp at it. 

“C’mon, Nuggie, let me at least unwrap it,” Angel laughed as he struggled to keep the pig at bay. Dazzler scooched into her spot across the table from Angel.

“He’s relentless!” She giggled, watching Angel finally freeing the treat from its wrapping. He dangled it above the pig for a moment, before letting it drop, and giggled as he watched him catch it in his mouth.

“Such a good lil boy,” Angel cooed, patting Nuggets on the head, before grabbing up his drink from the table. Dazzler did the same, closing her eyes contentedly as she took in a long sip through her straw. 

When her eyes fluttered back open, she jumped, the first thing she saw being Angel Dust staring at her with an expectant look. 

“Uh…” Dazzler was dumbstruck for a moment. She regained her composure, eyeing him with a cheeky expression. “Yes, can I help you?” 

“Spill.” 

“Huh?” Dazzler glanced down at the table, and then at her clothes. Did she spill her drink without realizing? She patted down her front, not finding any wet spots.

“No, no, spill the deets,” Angel added, lifting his drink to his mouth. He took a sip as his eyes kept on Dazzler, who was glancing up at him in confusion.

“About what, you vague bitch?” She let out a nervous laugh before beginning to take another drink, in an attempt to mask how the lack of clarity was making her anxious.

“About Alastor.” 

Dazzler nearly choked, snorting out louder than she would have liked as she started coughing. She slapped her drink onto the table and turned to cough into her arm, trying not to be too loud. Angel’s lips spread into a wicked, knowing grin.

With a hand to her chest, she cleared her throat harshly, but as quietly as she could, shooting a glare up to Angel.

“What- what the fuck-” she stopped to cough, and straightened herself. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was hushed and frantic, as she looked around at the rest of the coffee house. 

“Chill out, nobody’s over here,” Angel said coolly, leaning back in his seat and patting Nuggets on the head. “That’s half of why I picked this spot. Like, for Nuggie to be comfy, obviously, but also so we can have a lil privacy, so you can tell me what is goin’ on with you and Al.” 

Dazzler lifted her hands, gesturing in bewilderment as she looked desperately for any words that would let her take control of the conversation. 

“There’s nothing going on with me and Alastor?” She replied lamely. 

Not a good enough answer, she knew, even before Angel leaned in and doubled down.

“Oh really? Ya sure, homeslice?” 

Dazzler froze, save for pinning back her ears. Her eyes were wide and staring at Angel’s stupid smug face. 

“Yeah, I saw ya, when Charlie and Al were talkin’ to you in the hall,” he teased, plopping his elbow on the table, his hand pointing at her just inches from her face. He poked at her nose a couple times as he continued. “I had to run back upstairs to grab somethin’ for Nuggets, and when I got back out in the hall, you were standin’ there like a… deer in headlights.” 

“Oh my god, shut the hell up,” Dazzler groaned. The deer in headlights bit was so overdone, Angel never passed up an opportunity to make that joke. Angel let out a big laugh, leaning back with his hands over his stomach. 

He brought his top pair of arms behind his head, crossing one leg over the other as he grinned at the doe. “I saw how ya locked up and got all goofy when he smiled at you! And you do that every time he does, don’t think I haven’t noticed. So spill it.” 

Dazzler sat there in silence for a moment, her brow furrowed and her tail fluff thoroughly puffed out in stress. She leaned forward on the table, elbows on the surface and her hands on her temples. 

“Okay,” she sighed, not meeting Angel’s gaze. Slowly she lifted herself upright, drawing her ears forward in a neutral position and grabbing her drink in her hands. She still refused to look up at Angel Dust, who was stirring his drink with his straw as he stared at her. His expression softened a bit, knowing that if he was too pushy she’d shut down.

Dazzler slowly pressed her cheek to one hand, allowing the other arm to fall onto the table. She looked a pathetic little mess, like a lost animal who wasn’t sure what to think. 

“...I have a crush on him.” Her eyes never lifted, and she made no indication that she had more to say than that.

“I mean, yeah,” Angel scoffed, frustrated with such a simple answer. “That’s obvious. To me at least. I bet he has no idea.”

“Fuck, I hope not,” she whined, leaning back and covering her face with her hands, her ears drooping back. She shook her head, groaning in exasperation. “I get little insignificant crushes on everyone, all the time, so I’m not too bothered by it, okay?” 

“Ya sure about that?” 

“I’m certain,” Dazzler said, attempting to make it sound final. But Angel didn’t miss how her voice faltered. She could feel his stare, and that he was waiting for her to continue. 

Her eyes finally met with his, and she was a bit surprised to see such an encouraging and sympathetic expression. Lifting a hand to rub at her arm, she averted her eyes again.

“Are you sure about that?” Angel repeated, with more sincerity. 

Dazzler hazarded another glance at him, his tilted head, his supportive smile. Her ears dropped back, the fluffy fur upon them starting to bristle, fearing what her truthful answer would be, and fearing that she might actually give it to him.

“...I don’t know,” she whined, a pathetic little bleat, with eyes so big that she looked and sounded much like a fawn left to fend for itself in the tall grass.

Angel noted that her eyes were growing wet, and he reached into his purse to quickly retrieve some tissues, sliding a little packet across the table to her. She took them, opening them up as she laughed awkwardly through her sniffling. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she managed to say, dabbing at her eyes in a vain attempt to ensure her makeup would stay in place. 

It wouldn’t. 

The tears wouldn’t stop, she knew, every emotion in her flipped the switch to turn on the waterworks, and she knew there was little she could do to stop it.

“Like I dunno, I really do get fake little crushes on randos, like. Anyone who’s nice to me or compliments me I fall in ‘love’ with. Borderline shit.” 

“I get you,” Angel nodded, “trust me, I know exactly what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Yeah, we’ve talked about this before,” Dazzler replied with a little laugh and a sniffle.

“You wanna talk about how Al makes you feel?” Angel was soft, but encouraging, and admittedly deathly curious, but he knew where the boundaries were. He wanted to let her cry, aware of the fact that she did so so easily. He watched her, at first gingerly dabbing at her eyes, before giving up when her tears came out heavier, and just rubbing her makeup right off with a clean tissue. 

“Alastor just,” Dazzler started, immediately pausing as she realized she spoke without even knowing what she was going to say. She thought for a moment. “Like clearly I had a little thing for him just ‘cause he’s handsome and charismatic. Solely aesthetic attraction. But like, he’s… been really sweet to me since I started working at the hotel, I can’t tell if he’s just being a good boss or like? Maybe he’s into me a little??” 

Angel’s little smirk was coming back in full force as he watched her, idly stirring his drink.

“I think I’m actually like… forming a romantic attraction towards him,” Dazzler said finally, her voice soft as she lifted her hands up in a defeated gesture, brow furrowed and lips twisted into a confused smile and laugh. 

Angel’s brows lifted, but he said nothing. Instead he took Fat Nuggets up in his hands, holding him over the table towards Dazzler. “Ya wanna pet the pig?” His voice was so genuine now, though his smirk remained on his lips.

“I wanna pet the piiiiig,” she whined, starting to sob a little as she reached out to take Nuggets in her hands. She had such a sad smile on her lips as she pulled the little pig up to her chest, holding him close. Nuggets was sleepy after his snack, and thus was more than happy to return the snuggly gesture with a nudge into her chin.

Dazzler’s sobs were quiet, dotted with little awkward laughs at herself and all wept out through sad smiles. 

“I’m so stupid,” she mumbled. “Like, I’m 99% sure he’s not into dating or whatever. He’s not into me. I always fall genuinely for people who won’t fucking like me back.”

“I fuckin’ know it,” Angel said with a nod, all too familiar with her experiences, having had them himself. “We’re a couple of fucked up crazies, you know that?” 

“Fuckin’ borderline,” Dazzler laughed out, reaching up to rub her eye.

“Fuckin’ borderline,” Angel repeated, lifting his plastic cup, which Dazzler responded to by lifting her own and ‘clinking’ it against his.

They sat in silence for a bit. Angel wanted to let her have a few quiet moments to cry it out. He didn’t want to fluster her further or make her cry harder by pushing her to talk more.

Before long Nuggets was set down beside her, and she used both her hands to rub her eyes, with soft sniffles and nervous laughs. 

“Sorry,” she said quickly, and Angel immediately waved his hand at her dismissingly. 

“Don’t you even worry about it,” he reassured, reaching across to pat her arm. “Ya wanna know what I think?” 

Dazzler nodded, lowering her hands as she peeked up at her friend.

“I think ya gotta chill out.” He said it so plainly, Dazzler couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously like you are goin’ nuts. Wishin’ that Vox would come crawling back to you, of all things, guy’s a fuckin’ joke and you don’t deserve him.”

It left Dazzler feeling a certain warmth in her heart, hearing him say stuff like that. She felt such camaraderie with Angel Dust, knowing he came from a place of experience, and knew exactly the kind of crazy rollercoaster her mind had become.

“You’re right,” Dazzler finally replied, voice soft, almost afraid to admit it. This sort of toxic reliance on someone else (like Vox) for gratification and validation was a common occurrence for her, one she was trying to put a stop to. 

Removed from her usual scene, her usual part of the city she liked to roam, she was desperately missing her old outlets for her big emotions. No partying, no clubbing, no having sex with any stranger that praised her enough, no sneaky sex in Vox’s office. 

Just the hotel, and her stream, where she only got crumbs of gratification by losers who tipped her cash just to see her take her shirt off. 

“And I think that Alastor could have a thing for you,” Angel continued. Dazzler sighed, shaking her head to immediately deny the notion, to which Angel started waving his hand at her frantically. “No, I’m serious, shut the fuck up for two seconds!”

“What makes you even think that?” The doubt in her voice was palpable.

“Listen, ever since I started suspectin’ that you’re into him, I’ve been paying real close attention to both of ya.” He leaned in close, his voice hushed. “He’s defs into you.”

“You’re nuts.” 

“I seen it,” Angel insisted, “I’ve heard it, when he talks about ya he sounds excited. He asks about you when you come up in conversation, like he wants to know more about ya. The gossip goes around, Husky told me sometimes he mentions you outta nowhere.”

“Sh-shut up, he does not??” Dazzler was actively turning away from him, a nervous laugh in her dismissive words. “The fuck are you talking about? He’s probably trying to get info on me to fucking buy my soul off me or some shit.” 

“I think you got a chance, babe.”

“Angel, I’m gonna kill you right here in this coffee shop.” 

A beat of silence passed.

“Aaaaand,” Angel began again. Dazzler lifted her gaze to him, her ears flicking forward in curiosity. “I think you should totally come on to Alastor during your performance review.” 

Dazzler couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter she had in response to this.

“No fucking way,” she just barely got out, holding her hands up. “There’s no fucking way I’m doing that.” 

“C’mon, it’d be so hot,” Angel snickered, reaching out to slap at her playfully. “‘Aww, dang, boss, what ever can I do to improve my performance?’ How’s he gonna react to that other than fuckin’ ya on his desk.” 

“I literally cannot deal with you right now,” Dazzler fired back, attempting to suppress her giggles as best she could. “Getting my hopes up, playing with my emotions and shit… you’re a cruel motherfucker, Angel Dust.”

They shared in laughter for a few moments, bickering for a little while longer, before Angel reached out to grab her hands, looking her dead in the eyes. It took her by surprise, after what she believed to be a lighthearted end to his teasing.

“I’m serious though Dazz,” he said, with a voice so genuine that Dazzler was left unsure if his teasing earlier was even teasing after all. “I think you might have a chance. Like. I dunno for sure. But I do know you ain’t gonna get over him, unless you do somethin’ about it."

With wide eyes and slightly parted lips, she stared up at him, stunned speechless by the sincerity in his demeanor. 

“Just think about it, for like, a week or somethin’,” Angel said with an air of finality, a warm smile on his lips. 

“O…Okay… yeah,” Dazzler finally replied, nodding softly. “You’re right. Yeah… This thing isn’t just gonna go away and I should… stop being a fucking psycho about it.”

“It’s okay. I’m only tellin’ ya all this ‘cause I get it. Like on a deep level, so deep that it’s kinda embarrassing to admit.”

“Yeah…” Dazzler mumbled. Before long she smirked, regaining her composure relatively well as she smirked up at him. “You’re right, you’re a fuckin’ crazy bitch.”

“Fuckin’ borderline,” Angel mused, reaching up to pat Dazzler on the head. She let out an amused snort, her ears folding back with each pat.

“Fuckin’ borderline,” she agreed.

[swordluck]

Anri watched him in silence, her gaze steady and open-hearted.  The flourish of his shrug, the quicksilver smirk, the easy dismissal in his gait –  a performance, perhaps. 

Maybe he played at indifference, kicking glass aside like he had not a care in the world, surveying the ruins of civilisation with all the idle detachment of a man browsing shopfronts.  Nick moved like a gambler long accustomed to bluffing his way through life, playing every hand with the ease of someone who no longer feared losing – and why should he?  The world had already folded and still he stood, smirking in its wreckage, slipping through the cracks, broken glass underfoot. 

Her mouth curved ever so slightly downward, as though she had bitten into something under-ripe and sour.  Uncharitable.  She was being uncharitable, judging him for his threadbare charm, his blithe irreverence. 

Her gaze followed the artful motion of his hands, the way they dragged down his face in exasperation, as if wiping away whatever thought had so visibly troubled him.  And then, with something like resignation, he relented.  The once white jacket was shrugged off with careful nonchalance, a persona discarded.  The rumpled dress shirt followed, unbuttoned and untucked, peeled away to reveal the shape of him – lean and weathered, all sharp edges and old marks, faded histories scrawled in flesh.  

On his right side, the shadow of tomorrow’s bruises already spoiled beneath the surface, but it was not the only injury that gave her pause – it was the rake of shallow scratches across his chest, telling but not nearly as damning as the dark blossom of a love bite at his throat.  Bold, defiant, brazen as war paint.  

Anri arched a brow, lips pressing together in something caught between amusement and incredulity as she stepped closer.  Fingers, cold and unsteady, hovered just above his ribs.  Aware, too aware, of the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of him in the dim chill of the store, the scent of smoke and faded cologne clinging to his skin like something ghostly, something lost.  

Before the world ended, Anri had never thought much about hands.  They had always been just that – hands.  Now, in the half-light, she found herself staring at her own, at the grime beneath her nails, at the faint tremor that had settled into her bones since fever had made its home in her.  

“Sorry to be the one to break your winning streak,” she murmured, letting the words hang in the air long enough for him to catch the jest beneath them.  

Her gaze flickered, not unkindly, to the marks again, then back to his face, unreadable save for the rumour of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.  

“At least one of us is still finding some fun in all this,” she mused, finally pressing the tips of her fingers to the furrows of his ribs. 

Gentle but firm, she searched for the tell-tale tension of something worse than bruising.  Beneath her touch, Nick was warm, the heat of exertion clinging to his skin.  A creature of smoke and silver, of poker chips and bitten tongues – though she did not know it, might never know.  A man who had learned long ago that survival was just another game, and he would play it until the deck ran cold.

Terminal.  That pulled a breath of laughter from her, shapeless, barely there.  

“Well, they’re not broken,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.  Soft, almost lost in the hush of the store’s ruin.  “But you’ll feel it soon enough, if it isn’t aching already.”

Withdrawing, she clenched her fingers into her palm as though to capture whatever memory of warmth had settled there.  The fever made everything feel unreal, dreamlike, as though she might blink and wake to find herself somewhere else, someone else – but no.  The world had burned, and she was here.  And so was he.

“I’d recommend rest, ice, pain relief – but, you know…”

A dry, mostly humourless tilt of her lips.  

“We won’t be going anywhere tonight, at least, so take a seat.  I have tablets in my bag.  No condoms, though – so if you plan on making a habit of doing the deed, do be careful.  Pregnancy and STDs are still a thing, end of the world or not.”

Hey, he tried. Features pulled to match his open-handed shrug. Brief, and comically exaggerated, mirroring her terse fluster. Harsher perhaps: suit yourself. Oxfords overturned speckles of cracked glass, two strides taken towards the edge of the barren aisle closest to the counter. The shelves were short enough that he could quite easily peer over to inspect the others — see that little else of interest was immediately obvious. Of course, all the good shit was taken day one of this hitting the streets. Probably by susceptible people who weren't even gonna make it anyway. Damn, what a waste… and what a terrible thought. He was no stranger to cruel pragmatism in the first place, ruthlessness from a man like him rewarded more often than not, be it by the criminal underbelly or by society's alleged prim and proper. Funny that. Ironic that it had taken the apocalypse, the world's lawless free-for-all for Christ's sake, for it to start actually erecting roadblocks in his life, driving the wedge between himself and his more tenderhearted teammates deeper every time he carelessly ran his tongue. He had gotten better at defusing his urges to just say shit, do whatever he damn well felt like. He found that it was surprisingly smoother when he eased his grip on the reins — let his allies run their hands over his teeth and resisting the urge to bite down.

— if your friends won't mind.

He had to wrestle the beginnings of a snarl creasing between his brows and nose at her wording, disguised by the gesture to rub his palm down his nose and mouth. Jesus Christ.

"Ahh, trust me. Those cream puffs? They'd be more upset if you didn't wanna come."

He looked back over to her with a dismissive wave of his hand, curling smirk pausing when he noted her expectant lingering. She was serious about checking him. Thin lips split on an uncooked excuse, aimlessly lingering on platitudes of assurance... why?

"… Sure."

After a parting glance the opposite way, he came back over to her, shrugging his white jacket off to drape over the counter, untucking his dress shirt to begin unbuttoning it: he had gotten better at accepting help too. It felt weird to be without the weight of his suit now — a second, oversized skin that he had stolen to hastily slip his way amidst the ranks of the riverboat's guests. A wolf in sheep's clothing, or something like it… now, that wool was all he had to keep himself warm.

No comment was made to the shallow scratch marks over his right pectorals… nor that stubborn hickey that still bloomed angrily over the left side of his neck. Hey, she had asked to check. His shirt went to join his suit jacket, gun placed on top of both as he rotated both palms to lean back on the counter and get a better view of his injury. He could see his right side had notable inflammation — the predecessor to deep bruising he was sure to see by tomorrow. How bad it was beyond that? He'd just be guessing. He frowned, sucking between his teeth at the twinge his slight stretch invited.

"How's it looking, Nurse Anri? Terminal?"

[omnivorousshipper]

Request Friday: So we all agree the Shaws are feral as hell and feline to boot. I think it would be neat to see shapeshifter kitty Deckard following around Luke.

Luke rescues a kitty in the rain, unknowingly snatching a stuck shifter, Deckard. Until Deck can forgive out WHY he is stuck, he sticks around, not that he NEEDS help mind you... he’s just conserving his resources and focusing on the problem on hand.

He pops up to tangle around Luke’s ankles while he’s frying fish; curled up tight on top Luke’s stomach/chest snoozing in the morning; just happening to be in the same room as Luke; demanding four head scritches— NO more than 4 or the risk of deadly nails and teeth! Any kitty cliches you can think of!

FRIEND. FRIEND. FRIEND!!!!

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

This might be the thing I have pinned to the top of blog from now on

Also, you have no idea how tempted I was to make Deckard a hairless cat 😭 so freaking close!!

~~~

Luke tried to walk faster as he felt even more droplets of rain hit his head, but it was all in vain. Before he knew it, it was pouring down and completely soaking him

Cursing, he wrapped his jacket tighter around him and wished he hadn't decided to walk to the gym that morning

Why on the one day LA decided to get rain?!

He was so focused on walking, he almost didn't hear the pitiful mewling coming from an alley

Stopping in his tracks, Luke backed up and peered into the alley

Hiding in a soggy cardboard box, was a small tabby cat. It was completely soaked to bone, and Luke could swear he could see its ribs

He felt a stab of sympathy as he crouched down. The cat was so tired and cold, all it could do was sniff his hand and shiver like crazy

Since the cat didn't scratch up his hand, Luke took it as a good sign that it wasn't completely feral. With ease, he scooped it up and tucked it into his jacket

It only let out a small mew

---

Shivering, Deckard could barely open his eyes, let alone fight against the large hand that picked him up. He was just too cold

Almost three weeks ago, Deckard had tried to get his revenge on Toretto and his crew for hurting his little brother

But it had ended up with a building falling on Deckard and him nearly going to prison

When he had woken up from the building collapsing, he had immediately shifted into a smaller, familiar form: a cat

But, after he had escaped, he couldn't shift back

He had no idea why he couldn't, but his body stayed in the smaller form, no matter how much Deckard tried

It had been three weeks since then and he had to beg for scraps. He wasn't used to living as a stray, even when on the run from MI6. It was easier to steal food when you had opposable thumbs

When it had started raining, Deckard had tried to sneak into a gas station, but was promptly kicked out. Everywhere he went, he was chased out

He just found the alleyway before it really started raining. But it didn't do much good. Because rain still soaked him, making him practically freeze

He hadn't been eating much and he was a small cat, so he didn't have much fat on him to keep him warm

He was sure he was going to freeze to death that night

Before a giant savior came and picked him up

Snuggling into the warmth of the person, Deckard didn't realize it was Luke Hobbs who had saved him

---

Wrapping the still slumbering cat in a towel, Luke gently dried it off

Back home and in his nicely warm and dry house, Luke stared down at the impossibly small cat. So small in fact, he wasn't sure if it just wasn't a kitten

Either way, he had been right that he could almost see its ribs. The thing was so thin, Luke knew it hadn't eaten in a long time

"Is it OK, dad?" Sam asked, peeking over his shoulder to stared down at the tabby

"Yeah, I think so. Just tired." Luke smiled at her. "Can you go look for a can of tuna? I bet it'd love for something to eat when it wakes up."

"Yeah, I can!" Sam said and bolted for the kitchen

Chuckling, Luke kept rubbing the towel into soft, dry fur. He stopped when he felt a small vibration coming from the cat's chest

"Waking up?" Luke whispered and watched as big, brown eyes blinked open and stared at him

The purring stopped

Petting the cat, Luke smiled down at it

"Found you half starved and nearly frozen to death, but you're safe now."

The cat only kept staring at him and didn't start purring again

"Hey dad?" Sam called from the kitchen

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me open the can of tuna?"

"Be right there, sweetie!" Luke called back. Placing the cat down in a small nest of blankets Sam had made, he rubbed behind its ears. "Stay here and I'll bring you dinner."

The cat blinked at him

---

Never in a hundred years did Deckard ever think he would end up living with Luke Hobbs and his daughter

As a cat

But.

It wasn't the worst thing in the world

After the first night, Deckard had figured out that Luke had no idea who or what he was. He thought he was a simple cat

A female cat

That he kept calling Princess

In all honesty, it should have bothered Deckard, but he couldn't care less

Not when he was getting fed a steady stream of fish and other meat, got to lounge in the LA sun for hours on end, and got endless pets from Luke and Sam

It was honestly heaven on earth

Deckard didn't have to care about having to run from the police or who else was after him

All he had to worry about was keeping Luke in bed for a few more minutes so he could cuddle even more

Like now. The man was sitting up in bed, scrolling through his morning news feed while petting Deckard, who was curled up on his chest and right under his chin

"All right, princess. I have to get up." Luke said quietly, putting down his tablet

Deckard let out a mewl of distress as Luke tried to pick him up. Digging his claws in, Deckard hissed. He wasn't done cuddling!

"Watch it, princess. Or else I'll have to hold you down and clip your claws again." Luke scolded him and detached his claws from his shirt

Placing Deckard down, Luke started to stand. Deckard sat on the bed and glared at him the whole time he got ready

"Don't give me that look, you spoiled brat." Luke threw over his shoulder as he pulled a shirt on. "I'll give you an extra can of tuna when I get home from work. As long as you don't destroy anything."

Deckard wasn't promising anything

---

Placing a plate of cooked fish on the table, Luke chuckled as he saw Princess already sitting on the table and liking it's chops

"How many times have I told you to get off the table?" He sighed, but still reached over and pet the small cat. Who started purring up a storm

Placing his own food on the table, Luke sat and watched the cat eat its food

He never thought he would get a cat. He was always more of a dog person. But Princess was different

Always jumping on him, cuddling, wanting to be picked up. Just wanting his attention and love

It was kind of flattering in a way

Lost in thought, Luke didn't notice the cat was finished with its breakfast and started going for his

Looking down, he shoved the smaller body back

"Hey! You already got your food! Leave mine alone!" He scolded

Princess glared at him

Rolling his eyes, Luke opened his phone and started to look over his work email. Absorbed in reading and eating, he almost didn't hear the scrapping noise

Looking up, he saw his coffee mug was on the edge of the table, Princess's paw laying right next to it

"Don't you fucking dare." Luke said lowly, eyes narrowed

The cat flicked its tail

"I'm warning you, fleabag."

It tilted its head to the side

"I don't negotiate with terrorists."

The cat seemed to smirk

"Don't you-!"

Too late

In a flash, the cat's paw hit the mug and sent it to the floor, spilling coffee everywhere

Shaking his head, Luke sighed as Princess gleefully jumped over to his plate and started to gobble down his eggs

"Why the hell did I get a cat?"

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!! I really did!!

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (10)

Summary: It’s wedding day!

Warnings: Wedding Nerves, Mentions of grieving, emotional declarations, little Stevie is a naughty boy at the end

Words: Lots

Only Happy Accidents Masterlist

_______________________

You Matter To Me— Sara Barielles ft. Jason Mraz 

June 24th, Week 36, Wedding Day

YN woke with a jolt, fingers pressed to her side where her baby had gotten their foot stuck between her ribs. She was sure there would be a bruise blossoming soon enough, and she had only wished that Bucky’s theory about the baby being like Steve in the forties was true. However, that didn’t seem to be the case— the closer they got to the due date, the stronger the baby got and the bigger YN grew. YN was so large, that at this point, Pepper had asked if it was two babies instead of one, and much to Steve and YN’s relief, they were pleased to find out that it was, in fact, just one child. 

Steve shifted on the bed next to her, arms slapping the bed until it found YN’s shoulder and hummed, stroking her skin with his thumb gently. 

“You ‘kay?” He murmured, still half asleep. “So far. C’mere.” He grumbled, trying to pull YN closer. 

“I’m good. Baby just got stuck in moms ribs last night, so mom’s a little sore this morning.” YN cooed playfully down to her belly, and Steve, as if he had a sixth sense, put his hand over the sore spot on YN’s side and rubbed it absently. He mouthed at the back of her shoulder once he had pulled her closer to him, and she wiggled back into him, sighing as her body seemed to naturally react to his. 

“You were a little restless last night, sweetheart. You getting cold feet?” He mumbled jokingly and she scoffed. 

“About our wedding today? No. More cold feet about having Natasha plan our wedding though— I have no idea what to expect.” YN laughed, shifting onto her back and looking up at her Steve, curling her arm around his head and scratching his scalp as he kissed her collarbone. 

“Hey, we got to pick the wedding song and cake, and you got to pick the dress, so as long as you meet me at the altar today, I don’t care if a mime officiates the whole thing. I’ll consider it a perfect day.” He smiled and she rolled her eyes and snorted. “But seriously, you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she replied, remembering that nothing could get past Steve Rogers. “I had a few nightmares last night, though.” 

“About?”

“Well, since we haven’t gone officially public, which I still think is hilarious, I had a dream where press helicopters and paparazzi swarmed us and I couldn’t get to you no matter how hard I tried, and every time I almost got to your hand, the dream restarted. Then, I finally got to you and someone objected when the whole ‘stand now or forever hold your peace’ part rolled around and you killed them.” Steve smirked and nodded, and pulled the sheets over their heads, creating a safe little cocoon as he kissed her soundly. 

“I’d make sure I got to you first and I’m pretty sure the second bit won’t happen today— there’s only like, thirty people coming. You got nothing to worry about today, my wife.” He hummed and YN smiled. 

“Borat?” YN asked, cocking her head and making Steve frown. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She snorted and kissed him again. “Anyways, I’ll always make sure I hold your piece, Husband.” She hummed, sneaking her fingertips under the waistband of his boxers and feeling his stomach shudder as her fingers glided through the hair on his pubic bone. Just as she wrapped her hand around the base of his hot, half-hard cock, the sound of a bedroom door slammed open and something like confetti poppers exploded. 

“WEDDING DAY!!!” Three unmistakable voices screamed, and Steve sat right up, shielding YN with his body— sudden loud noises (no matter what they were) never worked well for Steve.

“Oh, it’s you guys.” He said, disappointment unmistakable in his voice. 

“‘Oh, it’s you guys,’ he says, disappointed that his fiancee couldn’t finish his hand job. Put your dick away!” Sam whined, and YN grunted, pulling her hands from Steve’s body and sitting up, running a hand through her messy bed hair. 

“Dick is away. Why are you guys here so damn early?” She moaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she looked at the clock— 8:00 am. 

“You get married in four hours, and we have to start getting you ready.” Natasha chirped, skipping over to YN and pulling her up much to the couples annoyance. Natasha pulled a hoodie and sweatpants from Steve’s drawers and tossed them at her, and all parties watched as she hopped into the clothes. She turned just as she went to leave the room and skipped over to Steve, reaching over him, grabbing her phone and wallet and planting a kiss on his lips. The boys hooted and howled and cheered as YN cradled his face in her hands. She straddled him to the best of her ability, but with an eight month belly, she did the best she could, licking at his bottom lip and running her hands through his hair to make sure he looked thoroughly snogged. She pulled back, and took in the sight under her— at his flushed cheeks, and his messy hair, his swollen lips and bright eyes and nodded. 

“See you at the altar, handsome.” She winked, a thrill shooting through her body as she rolled off of him and landed as gracefully on the floor as she could. Her own face heated up as she felt his hand smack her butt and she shot back a glare as she left the room. 

“You stole my line!” He shouted after her, and she left the apartment with Natasha and a laugh. 

Back upstairs, the boys turned back to Steve with smirks and raised eyebrows. 

“What?” Steve smirked sheepishly, scratching the back fo his neck and bending his legs to hide the tent that would otherwise be prominent. 

_________________________

“Turn to Stone”— Ingrid Michaelson

The girls arrived at Peppers cabin and YN was immediately handed a blindfold that read ‘bride’. 

“What’s this?”

“I don’t want the venue to be spoiled. Put it on and I’ll take you upstairs.” Natasha demanded, and not wanting to deny her her day, YN listened and trusted that Natasha wouldn’t throw her down the stairs as they made their way up to Peppers spare room. 

When YN was able to take off her blindfold she discovered that the spare room was less of a spare room and more of a fitting room decked out for a queen. There was a snack bar beside the bathroom door, soft fabrics and rugs thrown across the floor and around the pedestal in font of a huge mirror which had YN’s beautiful, stunning wedding dress hanging from. YN gasped and clutched her necklace when she noticed that the hangar read ‘Mrs. Rogers’. Her knees went weak, and Natasha, the woman who noticed everything, held her up and smiled.  

“Like it?”

“Natasha. This is— this is amazing I can’t—“ YN gasped, complying with Natasha and sitting in the white armchair in front of a makeup desk. Natasha grabbed her a bottle of water and all the medication she would need and waited and watched as YN took it all. 

“This is your day, YN and you’re family. This is what we do for family.” A new voice, Pepper Potts sounded from the doorway. The mini version of Ton Stark popped her head around her moms legs and upon realizing she could finally enter the forbidden-wedding-room, skipped in and climbed onto YN’s lap. 

“We’re going to make you a princess today!” She cheered and YN gasped, squeezing the little girls waist and making her squeal with joy. 

“But what about you? There can’t be more than one princess!” She played along, and Morgan looked genuinely offended at her words. 

“Then you can be queen! Like Elsa!” She demanded and YN laughed, wiping the food from Morgans cheek she had apparently been eating only moments before and kissing her nose. 

“As long as I have my Anna by my side.” She smiled and Morgan nodded eagerly. 

“Duh!”

___________________

Both Michaela and YN’s mother arrived soon, and soon enough, the preparations had begun. YN hadn’t had much of a breakfast— the combination of nerves and a hyperactive baby making her slightly nauseous (very nauseous), so it was between layers of moisturizer and foundation that she was able to take nips of fruit and bread— the craving of the day, hot Cheetos in ketchup— was immediately banned upon the mention of it by a slightly crazed-looking Natasha Romanoff. 

“That! Is not happening! There is too much white in this room!”

Michaela had immediately taken to YN’s hair, and after seeing a few pictures shown by Natasha, she nodded and began to work quickly. YN and her mother chatted idly— not having much to talk about since they’d been distanced since her father had passed, but managing nevertheless. Pepper fixed YN’s makeup up— light and airy, she had said. There was only a light layer of foundation, and it was a glowy, healthy look set with mattifying spray— something that would reduce shine but keep the look. 

The four hours passed too quickly, and soon, The dress was being pulled from its hangar and YN was being helped out of her sweater and pants— both being moved carefully to mind the bump, makeup and hair. 

The dress was lighter than YN remembered— the fabric cool on her hot skin, and flaring over her bump. Despite the looseness of the fit, YN couldn’t help but feel sexy— the slim, but plunging neckline mirroring the wide and plunging back. The star patterns in the fabric glinted in the light, and when she turned around, the four women gasped and Morgan cheered loudly. 

“Princess! Princess! Princess!” She began to chant, and soon, the four grown women joined in, tears streaming down their own faces as they clapped and jumped excitedly. They crowded around her and fussed, adding final touches and chirping to each other and cooing over how genuinely perfect YN looked. Soon, she was coasted into the view of the mirror, and YN couldn’t even recognize herself if she tried. 

Her skin looked fresh and perfectly toned— body shimmer making her have a glow that radiated from the inside. Her hair was shining and healthy in the natural light streaming through the curtains, and the dress— oh, the dress. It looked as if it was made for her by the Gods themselves.

There was a hush as YN’s mother took the veil and clipped it in her half-up half-down hair, fanning it around and YN stared at herself— in complete awe at what these women had helped her become. She was so lost in the patterns of the dress and her skin that YN couldn’t help but jump at the sound of the door opening and closing. 

She turned quickly to find Bucky staring at her and shaking his head, an awed smile on his face. 

“Wow. That Rogers guy is one lucky man.” He commented, walking over to the podium and helping YN off of it, kissing her forehead and pulling away, looking her up and down and shaking his head. “You don’t even look like the same person from this morning.”

“Is he here?” YN blurted, flushing bright red. She could have asked what he was doing here, or if the fact that she looked different from this morning was a good or bad thing, but all she could think about was the fact that Steve may or may not be here, right now. In the suit and tie she would be marrying him in. 

“He is. And, YN YLN, I have never, in all my 100 years of knowing the guy, ever seen him look so excited or happy. You are his soulmate, he’s yours and— I’m just so happy that you came into his life. He loves you more than anything in this world, and believe me when I say it’s not just about the baby. You have him wrapped around your finger and he wants to live there.” He said, tears filling his eyes. “Thank you, YN YLN. For making my best friend the happiest man on Earth.”

YN looked up at Bucky— his smooth hair tied into a neat bun, and his bright blue eyes shining and happy and his scruffy cheeks pulled back in a wide, happy grin— and sniffed, her chin wobbling. 

“Nope!” Natasha chirped, voice thick with emotion of her own. “Get out, you can’t make her cry!” Bucky resisted Natasha’s pushing, and tried his best to not feel horrendously fazed by the daggers shooting from her eyes. 

“I can’t do that.” Bucky smiled, wiping his eyes. 

“Why not?” Natahsa glared, resting her fists on her hips and tapping her foot. In tandem with the light blue bridesmaid dress, her hair and expression looked fiery and dangerous and it shot a thrill through even YN’s body. 

“Because it’s time.”

__________________

“Keep Breathing”— Ingrid Michaelson / “Little Wonders”— Rob Thomas

YN and Bucky stood facing the back door— the windows were covered by a half-sheer white curtain, something just enough for the crowd to see the silhouettes of the people behind it, but not enough for details. Bucky was waiting for Sam and Michaela to get down to the altar before he opened the door, and as he did, he looked down at the woman who was going to marry his best friend. 

“You ready?” He whispered and YN took a huge breath, digging her fingernails into her palms and shifting her weight from one foot to the next.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around what’s about to happen.” She whispered, voice shaking. 

“What’s that?”

“Well, I’m about to marry the old Captain America, the Winter Soldier, the new Captain America and the Black Widow are standing for us, and half the crowd has either saved the planet on more than one occasion or are from literal space. I feel like I’m going to wake up any second from the craziest dream in the world.” She rushed and Bucky snorted, unfurling her hands and holding them in his own. He could hear the chittering of the crowd outside, but he wouldn’t start walking until he knew YN would be sure to follow. Throughout the wedding process and learning more about her and watching Natasha struggle and stress over planning, YN had managed to worm a comfortable place in his heart.

“When you say it like that—“ He joked and watched as a sheepish smile found its place on YN’s face. “It’s time.” He whispered and YN sucked in a huge breath and nodded, steeling herself for the long walk she would have to take by herself. Bucky, sensing her apprehension stopped from opening the doors and entering himself, taking her hands once again. 

“You gettin’ cold feet, Doll?” He half-joked. While he did like YN quite a bit, he wasn’t sure he was too ready to drive the get away car for her yet. 

“I just—“ YN said, voice quivering with emotion. “I just imagined this day going so differently. Don’t get me wrong! I love that I’m marrying Steve and that I’m having his baby soon it’s just— I wanted my dad to walk me down the aisle. He was my best friend and he talked about him walking me down and what song we would dance to for the father-daughter dance and— I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this without him by my side.” She sniffed and Bucky, knowing just how it felt to not have your loved ones by your side, wiped her tears and offered a smile once she met his eyes again. 

“I’m sorry I—“

“Let me walk you down. I know it’s not ideal— but you’re family, and Steve is my brother and I want you to have someone who loves you by your side the whole day— your day. Will you, YN YLN soon-to-be-Rogers, do me the honour of letting me walk you down the aisle and give you away to Steve.” He said, eyes kind but overwhelmingly serious, as if this was the most important thing to him. 

YN tried to quell the rise of tears from her eyes and her chin wobbled dangerously as she nodded. He gave her his most charming grin as he took her hand and looped it around his arm, squeezing her hand before raising his other hand to wrap around the handle of the door.

“You good to go?” 

“Don’t let me fall, Barnes.” YN said, voice shaking. 

“I got you, Kid.” He replied, and twisted the handle, pushing both doors open and leading YN out to the backyard. The swell of the wedding march sounded, and the crowd gasped, upon seeing YN and Bucky together. He lead her across the porch and down the steps and his eyes flicked up to Steve who seemed to be holding back from either crying, throwing up, or sprinting off the altar to sweep YN into his arms. Bucky looked down at YN who seemed to be focussed on her feet. He squeezed her arm, and leaned in to whisper into her ear. 

“Look up.” 

And when she did, Bucky could see YN’s world shift. Her steps were slightly quicker, and her eyes shined in the afternoon sun, and the death grip on his forearm loosened until he was afraid she would pick up her skirts and sprint to Steve, which he thought would be rather amusing. 

YN couldn’t breathe— she wanted to be in Steve’s arms and to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks and kiss him until either one of them passed out. The world around her seemed to fade away to nothing— the edges of her vision whiting out until the only thing she could see was Steve. He looked impossibly thick and long in his black suit, his shaking hands clasped in front of him, and she couldn’t help the smile spread across her face when she noticed he was bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly. She felt wholly in this moment, and yet, felt as if she was hyper aware of the world. She could feel the deer on the other side of the lake moving, and she could hear the birds chirping and fish jumping in the lake, and she could feel the wind on her skin and the heat of the sun, and if she could pick one moment to live in for the rest of her life, it would be this one. 

Finally, she looked up at his face, and the breath was stolen from her lungs at the smile on his face.

‘I love you,’ he mouthed, as she grew closer and she winked. 

‘I love you.’ She replied. 

Eventually— in a combination of too soon and not soon enough, YN and Steve’s hands are being joined by Bucky, and YN could barely hear anything the priest was saying— his voice a distant drone as she stared into the deep blue and green of Steve’s eyes— memorizing every emotion and colour and solidifying the memory of this day and how his gaze on her face made her feel. 

He blinked, and tears spilled from his eyes, and YN breathed out a laugh, pulling her hands from his and wiping them away with her thumbs. She let her touch linger for a mere second and hurriedly re-joined their hands when the priest cleared his throat. It was another five minutes before Steve squeezed her hands and she blinked out of her reverie. 

“Huh?” She uttered and flushed with embarrassment when the crowd chuckled fondly. 

“The vows.” Steve whispered and YN’s eyes widened.

“Oh. Uh— yeah.” She commented and Steve chuckled and smiled at her— all of the love in the world in his eyes. “Steve. I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to say in these vows, and usually, vows would start with something like ‘since the day that I met you, I knew you were the one’, but our love wasn’t like that. We started it backwards, and it was slow, and awkward but so fast and natural at the same time. Our love is scary, and bigger than us and a year ago, I couldn’t have pictured that my life would be the way it is now. It’s filled with so much joy, and so much laughter and comfort and thrill and it’s so overwhelming to the point of me wanting to scream off the rooftops so that the whole city can have a taste of how much I love you. I will love you for the rest of time, Steve Rogers, and we have so much of it and I can’t wait to get started.”

Steve let out a choked sob through his smile, and wiped his eyes again with the back of his hands, joining them and raising YN’s knuckles to press against his lips. 

“I met you, Yn YLN, while you were wearing a sexy pirate number on Halloween night. YN, you’ve added an excitement and thrill to my life that I have never had— something I tried to find saving the world or hiding from it. You’ve given me a purpose that can’t be fulfilled through a job— a purpose without an end. You’ve given me a purpose of love, and devotion, and a purpose to make your heart beat fast and your stomach flip and if we get to fall even more in love along the process then I’m excited for it. My love and purpose for you are bottomless, and you’ve taken my life in your hands and flipped it into something softer, and warmer and into something that I am proud to live. Loving you is the new purpose you’ve given me and I will thank you for it for the rest of my days.” YN could hear the sounds of people blowing their noses and sniffling and YN looked up, tears leaking from the outside corners of her eyes as she let out a shaking breath. 

“Shit.” YN cursed, smiling up at Steve who was mirroring her shaking shoulders. 

“Would the ring bearess please bring the rings?” The priest called, voice warm and soft. YN turned her head away from Steve for the first time since the ceremony had begun to watch Morgan slowly walk up to the altar, seemingly balancing two gold bands on one light blue pillow, despite the fact that they were tied with ribbon. He little tongue was poked out the side fo her mouth and her brow was furrowed in concentration until she reached YN and Steve who bent over and untied the rings, thanking Morgan with kisses and words and rising again to face each other. 

“Do you, YN YMN YLN, take Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband, until the day you die?” 

“I do.”

Steve took YN’s hand in his own warmer one, and slid the band on her left ring finger, raising it to his lips to seal the promise of his love with a kiss, making YN’s heart flutter in her chest with the love she had for him. 

“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take YN YMN YLN to be your lawfully wedded wife, until the day you die?” 

“I do.”

YN sniffed, and took Steve’s left hand in her own, and with shaking fingers, slid the ring on, mimicking his actions and kissing his knuckle, watching in glee as his cheeks flushed even redder than they already were. 

“Then by the power vested in me, by the grace of God and the state of New York, I declare you YN and Steven Rogers! You may now kiss the bride.”

And Steve, evil glint in his eye, took YN’s waist in his hands, and swept her in a circle before dipping her low to the ground and planting his lips on hers through a toothy grin and elated giggles from his beautiful wife. 

And, as Steve grabbed his wife’s hand and lead her down the aisle— her bouquet raised in the hair and as rice was thrown over their heads Steve Rogers swore he could never be happier than he was in this very moment. 

___________________

“Lover”— Taylor Swift

“Please welcome, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!” With a flourish of white and blue curtain, YN and Steve Rogers stepped out into the back yard, and gasped. The backyard had been changed from a summer camp cabin yard to an elegant shot from some romance movie. Fairy lights were strung from the tree to the edge of the deck roofing, and blue and white flowers were strung between them. The soft branches fo the willow tree were also weaved through the strings of the lights, giving the yard a sort of roofing structure which allowed the brightness fo the moon and stars to still be shown. Glowing warm lights were posted at every table and around the perimeter of the space, and frankly, YN had never seen anything quite like it. 

“Steve.” YN could only utter, and he squeezed her arm as if to say ‘I know’. He lead her through the clapping guests and up to the main table where they sat in the middle, with Natasha, Sam, Michaela and Bucky on either side of them. Without even having the chance to ask when the food would be served (YN was starved, and so was baby), caterers swept out from the house and down the stairs to elegantly place soup and salad and bread in front of them. 

The entire meal moved like this— entrees and meals served between speeches from friends and family— even Morgan had lamented about how much the Princess YN deserved a special day like this, and how she truly looked like royalty in the dress Uncle Bucky had chosen for her.  Sam, already drunk rambled about how much Steve deserved this and in the same breath, exposed every embarrassing thing Steve had done when he was seemingly alone. YN had cried laughing at that speech, and Steve looked between murderous and amused when Sam had told the entire crowd that Steve had waterboard himself on more than one occasion— the first time being ‘I wanted to see what it felt like’, the second time he had the hiccups and followed Natasha’s orders to drink water from the other side of the glass to quell them, and the third time was when Steve was watching cartoons and was too lazy to move from his upside down position on the couch to take a drink of water. 

“You are too cute for your own good, Rogers.” YN giggled in his ear, drunk off joy and the energy of the crowd. 

Finally the meals ended, and the tables were cleared and pushed into the periphery of the yard— far enough fr the thirty guests to dance, but close enough to fall into at a moments notice. 

“I think this is our queue,” Steve mumbled and offered his hand which his wife smiled graciously and took, letting him lead her to the centre of the dance floor. While she knew Steve would have appreciated something slow, both YN and Natasha were thrilled with the final choice of song for the first dance. 

Steve spun her slowly into his arms as the slow guitar and bass filled the yard and swayed gently as Taylor Swift’s voice crooned the words to “Lover”. 

‘Have I known you 20 seconds, or 20 years.’

Steve huffed a laugh at the lyric, smiling down at his beautiful wife and pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Have I told you how breathtaking you are today?” He murmured and YN snorted, pressing as close to him as her bump would allow. 

“Once or twice.” She replied, smiling up at him, and she swore the gold light of the candles and firelight made his skin glow and his eyes the deepest blue she’d ever seen. The eyes which had seen so much trauma and bad were so soft on her, taking in every speck of glitter and every bit of blush and every freckle which poked through the thin later of makeups he was wearing. 

The wold seemed far away as the two swayed together, simply trying their best to live in the moment and in each other. 

‘I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.’

“I love you, Steve Rogers. Never thought I could be this happy again.” YN whisered, her hand curling through his dark blonde hair curled at the base of his neck. He grinned and bent down, pressing his soft lips against hers and drinking her in, running his tongue on her bottom lip to remember her taste. He pulled away and she laughed, thumbing the pink lipstick off of his mouth before kissing it once more. 

“I’m happy we feel the exact same way.” He replied, placing his forehead on hers and rubbing his nose against hers. Their lips barely brushed as they shifted around the room once more. 

The world came back to them soon enough with the sound of whistles and applause, and both YN and Steve blushed happily— not int he shame of being caught or exposed for their love, but for the fact that their love was so accepted and celebrated and it was almost overwhelming to see how happy their love made other people— let alone themselves. Finally— after seemingly waiting a lifetime, Steve and YN’s left ring fingers glinted the light as they were raised to the stars in celebration— never straying too far from one another at all. 

______________________

“Kiss - recorded at Spotify Studios NYC”— Kelly Clarkson / “Suit & Tie”— Justin Timberlake, JAY-Z

The bouquet had been thrown (Natasha had caught it, Bucky refused to make eye contact), the mead had been poured (Steve’s cheeks were flushed a healthy red, and Thor’s laugh boomed across the yard), the kids were huddled under a table, trying their damndest to stay awake with the snack they’d smuggled with them. Both Michaela and Sam had dissapeared multiple times over the course of the night— both returning seconds apart from one another with messy clothes and swollen lips, and YN had managed to sweep her mother away from Pepper multiple times over the course of the night to dance with her the way they used to in the kitchen, only to be interrupted by Steve who would wink at you and take your mothers hand. Morgan had graciously saved you from dancing alone after those incidents— both of you jumping up and down excitedly. Shoes and jackets were thrown haphazardly over table and chairs and drinks lay on their sides, long forgotten. 

Finally, the final event of the evening before people were allowed to disappear from the venue was called— the garter toss. 

“Would the groom and bride please return to the dance floor, please and thank you!” YN broke away from Pepper and her mom to the sound of Sams voice singing across the yard. In the middle of the dance floor were two things that made YN’s blood rush eagerly. 

A wooden chair. And Steve Rogers, smiling mischievously at her. 

Every time he had caught her eye over the course of the night, she grew more and more dizzy with love and lust for him. It had started when he’d shed his jacket— taught muscles pulling at the white fabric of his shirt, and his hair grew more and more mussed up the more he danced and jumped with his friends and wife. At some point, YN and Steve had been dancing, and in an attempt to seduce him, she’d undone his tie and left it there, undoing the top two buttons and kissing the sweaty skin she had revealed. 

Another two buttons and come undone since then— and bits of light brown chest hair began to show itself. He extended his hand towards her, and smiled— cheeks flushed bright and eyes shining with joy. YN blushed and walked across the floor to join him, letting him kiss her and place her gently in the chair before he nodded at Sam to start the music. The heady bass made YN’s heart pound as Steve began swaying his hips— the mixture of mead and wedding making him dorky and confident. His long fingers travelled up his chest and threaded another two buttons loose as he sauntered over to YN and turned, swaying his hips and grinding on her lap, making YN shriek with laughter and wipe tears from her eyes. His attempt at sexy was hilarious— and that was one of her favourite parts fo him. 

He spun around quickly, falling to his knees in front of her and surging up to kiss her lips before sinking down on his heels and wrapping a hand around her ankle. In front of everyone, he raised her ankle and planted a solid kiss on it, trailing them up her leg as he pushed her dress skirts higher up her body. After they had gotten to above her knee, he winked at her and flipped her skirts over his head, and YN clutched the sides of the chair as the crowd cat called them. She could feel him already working his magic on her skin. He was dragging his beard across her sensitive skin, and soothing the irritation with his lips and tongue. His hands were boiling hot, and his left hand wasted no time in pushing her thighs apart and pressing against the heated cotton of her underwear as his teeth found the fabric of the white garter wrapped around her thigh. YN couldn’t hold back her squeal as Steve pushed her underwear to the side and swiped two fingers up her core, gathering the slick of her pussy just as he began to pull the garter down her leg. He pulled out of the dress quickly, absently flinging it over his shoulder (it slapped pathetically against Bucky’s chest), and while everyone was distracted with the fact that both Natasha and Bucky had caught the omens of the next marriage, Steve raised his two glistening fingers to his lips and sucked them. He leaned over YN and kissed her, and she moaned lightly at the taste of herself on his tongue. 

“God, you’re going to be the death of me, Rogers.” YN cursed at him and he winked, only pulling his face inches away from hers. 

“Wanna go find a place to make out, Rogers?” He asked, breath smelling of YN and mead and mint, and YN shuddered a breath. 

“Yes, please.”

___________________________

 Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot/ vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr / teller258316 / mrsdeanwinchester19 / qrangr / mariswritingforfun / nerdypinupcrystal / kittycatlover18 / laucontrerasv / printedpeterparker / @dumblani  / @captainomad / eversonaive / rainbowkisses31 / i-think-i-am-adorable / rainbowkisses31 / smalltintedgorl / geeksareunique / jennmurawski13 / clutteredmind-emptythoughts / venezuelaanklemayonnaise 

[author-morgan]

Phobia ☤ Alexios

twenty-one - a family’s legacy

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again

THE ADRESTIA'S CREW encircle Alexios and Irene on the deck —Barnabas and Herodotus watch from the helm. As of late, they all have started making bets on who will win the sparring matches between them. The Eagle Bearer wins most of them, but that doesn't stop a handful from always betting on the princess. All it takes is for the commander to get distracted by a wayward smile or salacious glint in Irene's sapphire eyes and he is on his back.

She dodges his swing, slips under his arm and lands a blow to his back. He grunts, spinning around and finds she is already gone. The princess hooks her leg around his, throwing him off-balance. Alexios begins falling backward, but he grips onto her chiton and twists. Irene lands on her back and he catches his weight on his forearms. "You almost had me," he breathes, a slight smile playing on his lips. She is pinned beneath him on the ship's deck —chest heaving in exertion. Alexios hovers above her —his breathing coming in soft pants. It had been a good match.

Several of the crew toss drachma to one another, grumbling as they return to their tasks. "Not going to finish me off, commander?" Irene asks, fluttering her lashes.

Alexios rolls his eyes as he stands, offering her his hand. "Later," he promises, pulling her up from the deck with a wink.

The remainder of the day is uneventful —a pleasant change from the usual chaos. A warm breeze fills the sails and the crew sing hymns to Poseidon and Ares. Eppie and Barnabas are deep in discussion about myths and old legends. Herodotus transcribes his work onto papyrus scrolls. It's but a preview of a simpler, more peaceful life.

By sundown, everyone has gathered into small groups of four or five around the braziers, sharing wine and stories. Ikaros perches on Alexios' shoulder and the princess spoils the golden eagle with strips of fish and pieces of fresh fruit. "If you keep feeding him, he'll be too fat to fly," Alexios chides, and Ikaros squawks his disagreement, hopping from foot to foot on the misthios' shoulder. Irene laughs and ruffles the eagle's feathers the way he likes, silently promising him a few more treats the next time Alexios looks away.

Silver moonlight reflects off the dark surface of the water —a hundred stars are shining down as though the gods are smiling upon Alexios and Irene. The princess settles back, and Alexios wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. Ikaros circles high above them in the night sky. "Do you think strangers will hear our names long after we are gone and wonder who we were?" She asks softly.

Alexios traces a faint line connecting freckles on the inside of her forearm, deciding it looks almost like one of Artemis' arrows. "People will remember us," he assures her, placing a quick kiss to the corner of her jaw, "what we are doing will echo across the ages." Irene shifts in his arms to face him —he looks at peace, though she knows a storm is brewing within him the closer they sail to Thera.

The pad of his thumb traces the fading scratch on her temple. Her eyes slip shut and reopen when his touch fades only to be replaced by his lips pressed to hers. Alexios pushes the fabric covering her shoulder aside and follows with a line of open-mouth kisses. Ikaros lands on the sternpost of the ship and looks down at the pair then screeches. "I don't fancy an audience tonight," she breathes with a soft laugh.

Alexios tries to shoo the eagle away, but Ikaros' call is louder this time and now he can see burning braziers moving closer, illuminating a black sail with a dragon's head. "Malákas pirates!" He curses, springing into action —regretting having ignored Ikaros' first warning.

"Pirates!" Irene calls and the crew begin to spill out on the deck —most are half-dressed with little armor and by the time everyone takes their stations the galley as turned. The bronze ram glints in the moonlight, pointed at the Adrestia's flank, oars diving into the water propelling it across the water.

"Brace!" Alexios shouts —crouching with Irene under his arm. The impact almost knocks them off their feet. Several of the crew are launched into the air and sea. The churning waves settle and then it becomes a race. The Eagle Bearer leads the boarding party with a fierce shout, Irene and several others join him. It's a quick and bloody affair —they leave none alive. Alexios searches the deck and finds the princess kneeling next to one of the deckhands.

Thekla pushes Irene's hands away. She already knows this wound will be fatal —not even Hippokrates himself could repair the damage the pirate's blade had done. Alexios kneels next to the woman and grasps onto her hand in camaraderie. "A quicker death is all I ask," she chokes, blood trickling from her mouth. He frees the broken spear from the sheath on his back and Irene rises, turning away —unable to watch. Eppie pulls her into an embrace and watches over her shoulder as Alexios slips the spear between Thekla's ribs. A soft gasp escapes her lips before unending serenity overtakes her expression. The crew wraps Thekla's body in a cut of the old faded sail. They will bury her once making landfall.

A THICK SULFUROUS haze lingers over the Volcanic Islands. Thera is the largest of the three islands and desolate, though ruins of a once-great people remain. On the dark shores, the crew takes a moment and lays their fallen companion to rest in a pit of black sand. Most return to the Adrestia after the short ceremony, but Irene and Alexios search the ruins for any sign of his father. They come to a gateway nearly identical to the one on Andros, but this one is larger. Recalling how he'd opened the gate, Alexios frees the broken spear from his quiver and touches it to the dark stone —nothing happens.

Something behind the door draws Irene closer. She lays her hand flat against the smooth rock and warmth spreads over her limbs. "The light," she says stepping back then pointing to one of the reflective mirrors at the pinnacle of the southernmost ruins. A puzzle. 

Aligning the mirrors does not take long, especially since Ikaros had taken care of the snakes littered about the ruins. A focused beam of light shines on the gateway, illuminating a blue-white triangle before the stone starts grinding. The triangular entrance gapes open, leading into darkness. "I don't even know if I'll come back," he admits, looking into the depths of the dark passage. Alexios is not one to show or admit fear readily, but Irene knows him well enough to spot it, and there is no point in trying to conceal it.

The princess guides his dark gaze back to her. In comparison to the black volcanic rock and ruins, she is a ray of light. "This is not where your journey ends, Alexios," she assures him. Deep down, Irene knows fate has more in store for both her and Alexios. Their fate does not end here in the ruins of Thera. "Nor where our ways part," she adds.

A smile crosses his lips. "You sound so certain," Alexios breathes —he wants to share in her optimism, but the unknown keeps him from doing so.

"I am," Irene says, placing a short kiss to his cheek. For a moment, he gapes at her —if this is to be his end, he wishes for her fair face to be the last thing he sees before the Keres take him. She nudges him toward the door, breaking him from the trance. Alexios disappears into the ruins —the gateway closing behind him— and Irene wanders along the barren and destroyed streets of Akrotiri.

Light breaks through the haze and catches something both crystalline and metallic. The object is heavy in hand given its size and reminds Irene of the metal of Leonidas' spear. She reaches behind her back for the broken spear. The tip of the blade begins to glow as it nears the ingot. At the same time, the strange markings she's seen before surface on her skin, though this time there is no pain.

Irene takes the opportunity to look at them closely. The lines and smooth curving arcs are a mix between silver and gold and run from her fingers to her toes. They are smooth but feel warmer than the rest of her skin. A part of her is tempted to ask Herodotus what these markings mean, but after a moment of silent thought, the princess decides some questions might be better left unanswered. Still, she cannot help but wonder if this has to do with her father.

A hand falls onto her shoulder, and instinct takes over. Irene lashes out, sweeping her leg around and knocking the would-be assailant to the ground. He falls to his back with a groan —he should have known better than to sneak up on the princess. "Alexios!" She reprimands, offering him her hand. Alexios takes hold of her hand, but tugs her down across his lap instead of rising to his feet.

There's a distant look in his eyes. "Atlantis is real," he breathes. Irene isn't sure she'd heard him right. Atlantis is just a children's story. Hydarnes used to tell her stories of the lost city when she was a girl. Before she can say anything or question him, he meets her gaze and recalls what Pythagoras had told him. "My father is down there," Alexios whispers and he is less than happy with the revelation.

WAVES BREAK AGAINST the Adrestia, rocking the ship as a mother rocks a babe in her arms. On the horizon are dark clouds, though. It will be a stormy night. Irene is left to wonder if the gods can sense the storm growing within her.

Alexios has been nigh silent since returning from the depths beneath Thera. It is clear the weight on his shoulders has increased tenfold. He sits atop the sternpost watching the last of Helios' light disappear beneath the waves. Irene is speaking with Iola —a former smuggler and Barnabas' new flame. The two women laugh, though when the princess shifts her gaze up to him her smile fades.

Nearly the entire crew goes below deck, urged quietly by Herodotus and Iola to give the commander and princess a moment of solitude. It's obvious there are things between them that need to be said and are not meant for the ears of others. Alexios jumps down from the sternpost, comes to stand next to her at the helm. "You're troubled," she notes gazing at the blackened horizon. He does not bother denying the accusation.

"I just-" Alexios tilts his head back, looking to the heavens and draws in a deep breath "-have a lot to think about." I was never going to raise you. Anger pulses through his veins at the thought of Pythagoras. An obligation to preserve the bloodline. He drapes his arm over Irene's shoulders and presses his forehead into her temple. Right now, she is his anchor in the calamity of life. "I'm glad you're with me," he breathes.

Irene steps back. "I know you're hiding something, and I won't press you to say anything-"

"I don't know how to tell you," he says in turn, cutting her off as he starts to pace the deck with arms crossed and a pensive expression. It should be easy to say, and she needs to know.

Irene steps into his path and presses her hand against the center of his chest. His arms uncross and his shoulders fall. Irene knows he is not a wordsmith and does not expect an eloquent verse. "Just say it," the princess tells him, voice just above a whisper.

Alexios grips onto her arms and meets her gaze —stormy like the sea around them. "You're a demigoddess." A playwright or poet would have fashioned the words into art. He is neither. Even Pythagoras managed to word the revelation more adroitly before he spoke of the princess as a broodmare for the bloodline. Alexios watches her expression, but she has always been able to mask her inner thoughts —it's what made her a skilled orator and politician. "Apollonides was a guise for Asklepios," Alexios explains. "Your father is the God of Medicine."

People called him a demigod, but his is not the blood of Olympus. Irene though is truly descendant from the heavens. She suspires, turning from the helm and takes a seat on one of the benches at the stern. Alexios follows and kneels in front of her. "I always believed he was just an Asklepiad." Irene absently touches his cheek, fingertips ghosting over the stubble on his jaw. Her soft laugh is filled with bitter emptiness. "He must be ashamed of me," the princess notes, "all the lives I've taken." Instead of saving people from Hades, she sends them to him.  

[memoirsofratasum]

Protector Tarnn: The Eye of the North

So many people have been making their way north chasing Bangar that it’s actually kind of amazing that I never made it that far into the Shiverpeaks. My duties had taken me back to the warmer jungles of Tarir. Years ago I had done some preliminary work on copying and translating the Exalted’s tablets and now some magisters wanted to consult with me on transcribing a new set of tablets that had been found in a corridor recently cleared of debris. Not the most exciting work, but you don’t want to snub any of your higher ups when you’re looking for advancement.

Sure the job had its own share of adventures, the jungle hasn’t changed much, but it was the assignment I got after that was noteworthy.

The location of the Eye of the North was never exactly a secret. The old ruin is famous among most of the races, a place of history for all of Tyria. But in spite of that importance, the tower has been mostly left alone, even by the Priory. It’s location in the mountains was too difficult to keep excavation teams supplied. The relatively recent invention of airships alleviated that issue, but with the Elder Dragons we had better places we needed to fly too.

So imagine my surprise when I was called into Steward Gixx’s office and asked if I knew anything about the Eye of the North. As much as anyone does, the occupation by the Ebon Vanguard, the scrying pool, the battle with Primordus’ lieutenant, and that it’s been mostly left alone for 250 years. And that’s when Gixx got this gleam in his eye and I knew I was going to be trekking north after all.

I wasn’t going alone though. Gixx had a guest for me to meet. A familiar stick-in-the-mud asura, Inscriber Nivv. I haven’t seen him since Istan. I had already figured by his presence that this must involve waypoints, which Gixx confirmed before I could open my mouth. The short of it is that the Arcane Council was contacted by an anonymous client who commissioned for a waypoint and asura gate activation in the Eye of the North. Nivv, having been impressed with my bodyguard work in the past, had requested me by name. The last time this happened I was certain that he had slipped my commanding magister a sack of gold for my services, Gixx has to be getting something out of this too. He’s grinning too much like a loon for it to just be mystic coins under the table. Probably has at least one member of the Arcane Council owing him a favor. Doubt I’ll see the gains when that gets fulfilled.

Nivv on his part seemed completely unsuspicious on how this deal manifested. He was eager to work with me again. This little expedition was going to be bigger than the Istan one as it included gate technicians and enough equipment to build a new gate from scratch if it came to that. The danger assessment had it’s holes, but there didn’t seem to be any svanir or renegade charr in the region, not even a nearby kodan sanctuary. Just wild animals and the elements. The mysterious client didn’t say why they wanted the Eye hooked up to the modern teleport systems all of a sudden, though it’s easy to imagine someone rich wanting to aid in the war effort as it would make for a good base and staging ground. The only thing I can guess about their identity is that they aren’t Pact, this is well outside the usual protocols.

Regardless, we were in the air within a couple days. The Arcane Council had chartered us an airship out of LA crewed by members of the lionguard, guess Gixx was willing to lend out me but not one of the Priory transports. Not as swift and battle ready as the Pact ships, it was at least a more comfortable ride in comparison. The civilians disagreed but I was just glad to not have to sleep next to the roar of the engine.

We were scheduled to be in the air 3 days but the pilot and navigator were worried about the adverse weather in the Shiverpeaks. Since Grothmar things had apparently gotten worse and not for the first time I wondered how Sanna was holding up. I wouldn’t expect an elementalist of her talents to be overwhelmed by any sort of weather, but there have been rumors trickling down from Bjora Marches of worse things. Apparently the wind whispered to you and a curse from hunger could turn you inside out. I’m not sure what to believe and the Pact brass was not willing to discuss it. Some said that they don’t want to scare off assignees before they get there, but other quieter whispers was that no one could be certain if any charr members were in league with Ruinbringer and could leak information. This had happened with the sylvari once already, and now our charr brethren? That sort of distrust would only prove Ruinbringer right. But it’s not my call to make. The last official announcement was Soulkeeper’s fate, Alchemy keep her, when I was in the jungle. After that everything seemed to be on a need-to-know basis.

The first day in the air went by as normally as one could expect. The Sanctum Harbor soon gave way to the biting cold of Lornar’s Pass. Familiar landmarks passed underneath us but it was too cold to stay out on deck without a reason. Nivv showed me the crates in the cargo hold that held the waypoint and gate components. If it wasn’t for the asuran script stamped on the metal, you’d have guessed they were normal shipments of smithing or artificing components. Nivv wanted to impart the importance of the crates but he didn’t need to bother. Easy access to the Eye could guarantee the Pact and it’s allies were always better prepared than Ruinbringer, wars have been won with less. Nivv wanted me to check on the crates during our journey, the components were delicate and if the rough weather prediction was correct he didn’t want them to get jostled around too much.

The second day things started to feel a little...off. It had gotten colder, we were over Frostgorge Sound, and the krewe was huddling around a space heater grumbling to themselves. My wolf Valor though didn’t have the mind to join in, instead his ears were up and eye trained on one of the human lionguard crew member, an engineer whose name I didn’t know. The wind was whistling strongly through a seam somewhere and I realized the engineer wasn’t occupied with his work like I had assumed, but staring down at the cold asura with something akin to contempt in his eyes. That wasn’t going to fly. I got his attention just as the wind calmed down and he muttered something about being needed elsewhere and wandered off his with wrench.

I didn’t think much of it, some people are just jerks and its not worth wasting brainspace on them. I went to check on the crates to see if they had shifted overnight. At first glance they were just as we had left them the day before, but just as I was about to leave I noticed that parts of the metal looked deformed. Not by a lot, just some shallow dents on the top seam, as if hit by a blunt instrument. Such a thing isn’t uncommon as old crates gain some wear after being used over and over again. But I could have sworn that the crates were new. Maybe I just misremembered. It’s not worth bring up to Nivv.

This airship must be full of holes, the wind sounded like it’s in my ears.

I returned to the inner decks and found some of the krewe in an argument. Cram a bunch of self-proclaimed geniuses in one place with no easy way out and it’s bound to happen. I was going to leave them to it, I’m not here to protect their egos from themselves, but Valor was standing stiff, staring at them. That moment of hesitation gave me enough time to see one of the krewe members lash out and a trail of red appear on her opponent’s cheek.

I immediately blinked into the middle of it, grabbing her wrist before she could even finish the swiping motion, a shard of bloody glass clenched in her hand. What was her name again? Calli? Well, whoever she was blinked as if she was just waking up from a dream which turned into a growing horror as she realized what she just did. The glass shard fell from her hand, no idea where she could have gotten it from, as she started crying, claiming that she didn’t mean to do it, that a voice in her head told her too. I didn’t care about any of her stammering excuses.  Assaulting a krewe member, or anyone on your side for that matter, will not be tolerated on my watch. I had the lionguard escort her to the brig, Nivv could sort his people out himself. 

The wind started to die down.

Her victim seemed more shocked than hurt, the scratch on his cheek was shallow and I was able to use a little guardian magic to close the wound. Strangely, he couldn’t recall what the argument was about. It wasn’t over anything normal, like a theory or paper. I’m sure getting attacked by a colleague pushed it right of it his mind.

Things seemed to quiet down after that. Nivv was beside himself over Calli’s behavior. It didn’t bode well for when they got to work at the Eye. A rebellious krewe member I could handle though, so I found myself drifting off as I checked my armor while he continued to babble on about how to reassigned the work if Calli was out and then ley line nodes and molecular relays and on and on.

The wind was picking up again and his voice blended with it. Whatever he was talking about didn’t matter. I probably shouldn’t even be here playing progenysitter to a bunch of spoiled technicians anyway. Didn’t I leave Rata Sum specifically to not do this sort of work anymore? 

A low growl from Valor jerked me back to reality. I looked up from my polishing to see that Valor had placed himself between me and Nivv, his ears and hackles both up and his teeth half-barred. A warning.

Nivv looked startled and confused, as if he didn’t realize where he was, his scepter clattered to the floor. He didn’t have an answer when I starred him down and asked what was wrong. He seemed nervous and more than a little scared. As he should be. I don’t want to think one of Sanna’s old acquaintances and a person who I’ve worked with before would willing to stab me in the back, but if he was he’d have to be a lot more prepared than this. I said as much when I pressed his scepter back into his hands.

Nivv didn’t stick around, leaving me and Valor alone. My wolf nudged at me and licked my face, his tension eased.

The wind quieted and I felt like I could think again. 

What the hell was going on? I couldn’t even remember what I was just thinking about. Were we honestly going stir crazy after only a day in an enclosed space? That didn’t seem right.

Every asura on the ship tried to avoid each other for the rest of the day, casting distrusting eyes on their krewemates and myself. The lionguard seemed on edge as well. The only person who seemed to have any sense of control was the airship captain, a norn with a hammer on his back and an adherent of wolf if the tattoos are anything to go by. He stopped me in the hall after dinner under the pretense of wanting my input on flying over Bitterfrost Frontier as I had been there before. But I could tell that what he really wanted was to know more about Valor. Guardians aren’t known for their animal companions after all. The captain nodded in understanding when I told him that Valor had once been a shrine wolf, that the shaman had tasked me with healing his wounds after rescuing her wolves from the Svanir, and that he’s been with me ever since as support for my mental wellbeing rather than as a ranger companion. The captain nodded as he listened and scratched Valor behind the ears. Said that Wolf must see me in a good light to allow me one of his wolves. Yeah I dunno about that. 

The captain then asked if I had noticed anything unusual going in with the asura krewe. He seemed to have noticed that some of his lionguard acting suspicious and on edge, or being found in the cargo hold when they had duties elsewhere, or hesitating at the controls before following his orders. That didn’t sound good. Sounds like both crew and krewe are acting out when they should be more professional than this. It was worrying but the captain said that we should reach the Eye by the end of the day tomorrow and it would be easier to sort this all out once on solid ground. He bid me goodnight and that Wolf watch over me.

I think that was the longest span of time throughout the entire day where the wind wasn’t howling in my head.

The next morning we were flying over territory unfamiliar to my eyes. We had to be getting close to the Eye. Tensions hadn’t eased but nothing had exploded. Nivv wrung his hands and avoided my gaze when I asked if his krewe would be able to at least do the work when we touched down. The last thing I wanted was to essentially have come all this way for nothing. I know Gixx wanted Priory footprints in the snow, but fat lot of good that does him if the promised transportation isn’t there.

I needed to calm down, I was just adding to the tension and unease. Someone was going to snap at this rate and I couldn’t let it be me.

By midday I decided to check on the cargo hold again. The crates definitely didn’t have those dents yesterday. They weren’t the small indents that could be waved away by some rough handling. They were caved in and clumsily strewn across the floor, one spreading crystalline dust like blood out of a newly formed crack. The turbulence hadn’t been that violent. It was clearly sabotage. 

I sprinted from the hold, calling for Nivv when the airship suddenly listed sharply to the side, causing me to lose my footing. The airship swung wildly again and I slammed into a wall that was acting more as a floor. 

The wind was deafening.

Nivv’s crates could wait. I needed to make it to the bridge.

Alarms were blaring and the windows were almost a solid white from a blizzard. But that wasn’t the part that shocked me when I reached the bridge.

The human engineer from the day before was at the controls, spinning wheels and throwing switches seemingly at random. But the lionguard pilot and navigator, one with blood on his temple, were desperately trying to wrestle him away. The airship was still spinning wildly and it felt like we were rapidly losing altitude. 

And the captain just watched.

I didn’t have the time to think my actions through, I needed that time to act instead.

I rushed forwarded and wove my way in-between the struggling lionguards and threw a fist at the engineer’s solar plexus. He doubled over immediately, air knocked knocked out of him, and I was able to drag him away and allow the pilot and navigator to reassert control. 

The captain still showed no reaction.

The wind had risen to a roar.

The tension cracked when Nivv charged in, demanding to know what was going on. The blank expression on the captain’s face never changed, but his stance shifted. I moved at the same time. I slid in front of Nivv, my shield rippling into existence just in time for the captain’s hammer to ricochet harmlessly off the shiny surface. 

I had to think fast. The bridge of an airship was not the ideal place for a fight. Fire magic was out of the question and my sword could easily damage the controls. My staff might have been my best option, casting from range and drawing the captain away the bridge and the now terrified pilot and navigator.

The captain raised his hammer again but instead of falling, a mass of fur slammed into the captain, knocking him off his feet. Teeth sunk into his wrist, forcing him to drop the hammer and scream in pain, his first natural reaction out this entire encounter.

I dropped my shield and ran to my wolf. Valor had the captain at his mercy, holding him in place and tightening his jaw at any movement he didn’t like. This gave me some time to get some answers.

The captain though was worse off than Calli. He didn’t know what he was doing. A voice had been gnawing at his mind, telling him that the asuran krewe couldn’t be allowed to succeed in their mission. Why? He had no idea. He couldn’t even say who the voice in his head belonged too. But he thanked Wolf for bringing him to his senses before he did something he regretted. 

I didn’t think that was good enough. We where still hours from the eye and who knew how long before the waypoint and the gate were operational, if they could even be brought online after the pummeling their crate’s took. The captain maybe remorseful now, but there was still time for sabotage. In my opinion, he and the still dazed engineer should be thrown in the brig and LA radioed. That is if the pilot could make the landing without the captain’s instructions. 

I studying the subdued captain and mentally calculating the distance from LA for backup, when the wind fell silent and the snow stopped. Outside the windows, the sky was a glorious glow of oranges and pinks. It shouldn’t have been that late in the day yet. And unless the pilot still hadn’t gotten us on course, we shouldn’t be seeing the sunset through the bow windows. The sunset glistened and flew closer.

It wasn’t the sunset, it was Aurene!

The Prismatic Dragon circled the airship, a rainbow left in her wake. Her voice, somehow both within my head and out, gently instructed the airship to follow her to make a landing at the Eye.

The affect of the dragon was like taking a breath after being under water, everything felt calm and right. I placed my hand on Valor’s head and he released the captain from his jaws. The captain would still have to answer for his actions, but for right now I don’t think anyone will try anything while under Aurene’s shadow.

The Eye of the North was just like the stories, huge and imposing but most importantly safe. And being in a sheltered valley, the worse of the Shiverpeaks weather didn’t hit quite so hard. A few bears and wild wolves eyed us from the undergrowth, but a few demonstrations of my fire magic kept them there.

Aurene watched as we unloaded the airship into the main vestibule. As I had suspected, some of the components had been damaged. Crystalline filaments were shattered and the dust contaminated. Aurene offered to create any necessary crystal components the krewe may need and then she bidded us to her lair at the scrying pool, saying that she owed us an explanation.

As suspected by her presence here, Aurene was the anonymous client who had commissioned for the waypoint and reactivated asuran gate. She did not elaborate on how this was paid for. She then apologized to us. According to her, the voices and thoughts that had been in our heads was Jormag. Aurene had thought that with it’s mouthpiece Drakkar under threat, an airship could have slipped into the Shiverpeaks unnoticed. But she had underestimated Jormag and just how much of a threat a Tyrian foothold in the Eye would be to the Ice Dragon. The violence onboard the airship was solely Jormag’s responsibility. But now that we were under Aurene’s wings here at the Eye, we were outside of their influence. And if the campaign against Drakkar is successful, that influence would end permanently. 

However that campaign ended, Aurene still wanted the Eye up and running for Tyrian use. The krewe had a few days at most to complete their task. I have to patrol to perimeter, almost a vacation after that trip. The airship crew needed to take that time to assess for damages. And the captain...well he said he was going out into the forest to mediate on Wolf and not to worry about him. 

I hope Wolf keeps him, and all of us safe. And if not, I know Aurene will.

[mars-the-4th-planet]

Roman and Neo meet a Raccoon, it ends pretty much how you expect.

"Heh... Neo, the good guys are hunting us, the bad guys are hunting us, just like old times when huh?" Roman pointed out. Neo smiled and nodded, the thought of it brought her nostalgia. She remembered when she was just a street thug and he was a spoiled valefia (Vale mafia) boy making a break with his fathers dust. He had such a cute hat. And he still does, Neo thought.

The two of them were sitting down, their backs against the ruins of a house that had an Atlesian drone fall into it. They were still both handcuffed unfortunately, and had basically no idea what to do next. The whole area was under lockdown so they could not leave, and it was unlikely anyone would want to save them. A young dog faunus boy with brown hair sat nearby on a sandbag, playing a video game. Roman tried asking him where he parents were but he just said they would be back soon and started crying so he left the boy alone to play his video game.

Just then, a Raccoon Faunus girl about the same age as Neo walked in. Her face and hands were marked by ink-black skin and her nails were like little claws. She was wearing trendy albeit dirty and worn clothes and had fake raccoon ears and a belt that made it look like she had a Raccoon tail. The black mask-like marking make her eyes seem very big and bright, and she grinned at them with her pointy little canines. "Oh mein gosh! Tis Roman and Neo, I am ze big fan! Please, tell me what nefarioux plans you dous have been cooking up!"

"Currently we are planning to cheat, lie, steal, and survive. To do that we need to get out of these handcuffs." Roman said, smooth as ever.

"Hm... I just so happen to have a lockpick on me!" The raccoon girl said, pulling one out. "I can totally let you free, for a price~"

"And what price would that be?" Roman asked. Neo let him do the talking, however contrary to popular belief it was not because he was a man, but because she was physically incapable of speech. And even if this girl knew sign language, Neo was handcuffed.

"I want ze kiss!"

Roman smiled smugly. "Of course, I should have known. Neo? I would never think to ask you to do something like this, but can you please take one for the team?"

Neo nodded and puckered up.

"No no no, xaxaxaxaxa! I meant a kiss from you Roman!"

Roman blinked in surprise. "You what?"

"Come on, you know you are gorgeoux!"

"Yes I am," Roman agreed. "but I guess I was not expecting you to be into men."

"Vat is ZHAT supposed to mean?? You damn baque fool!" The raccoon girl pouted. "I am not ze lesbian! I am a thief and scoundrel! Like you!" her strange accent got stronger when she was annoyed.

Roman looked over at Neo. "May I kiss the wannabe villain?"

Neo nodded, although she did not look too happy about it.

"VANNABE? I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW I AM ZE EVILEST CRITTER ON TWO MEATY LEGS" She cried out in irritation.

"Mea-diocre legs maybe." Roman commented snidely.

Her cheeks went pink and the raccoon girl looked like she was about to scratch Roman. "Do you VANT to be let out of ZE CUFFS or do you just want to BE TEASIN'?"

"Of course, of course. Go ahead, do the evil thing and kiss and let us go." Roman said.

"You still dont think I am a real villain."

"I mean, you dont seem very evil..."

"I kick puppies!"

"Sure you do."

"Looksy! Watch me!" The raccoon girl walked over to the dog faunus boy. She lightly put her foot against him with all the force of talking a step forward. Mistaking this move as an attempt to play fight, he fake snarled and bit her foot. The raccoon girl yelped and grabbed his nose too force him to release her so he could breath. He would have let go anyway as her sneaker did not taste all that good.

Neo was silently giggling at the display.

"Yes, quite the villain you are."

"Are you going to kiss or nah?" She growled.

"Okay, come and get it." Roman licked his lips and made an exaggerated flirty expression. The raccoon girl blushed. She came up but got nervous at the last moment and kissed his cheek instead. Neo rolled her eyes.

"Is that all? Okay." Roman said. Something clattered behind Neo, and she was looking down at it before facing the raccoon girl again.

"Xaxaxaxaxa, your cheek is soft Roman Torchwick!" The raccoon girl said with a shy grin.

"Thats what Neo would say, if she could." Roman said.

"Xaxa! I really am a big fan though, even when you give mockings. I can just imagine it now, me and you together ruling the Holy Roman Empire, you the Emperor and me your right hand partner!"

Neo scootched forward and kicked her in the shin. "Yow! That was joke!"

"Are you going to unlock us now or what?" Roman asked.

"Nope, I have fooled and scammed you! Who is evil and bad critter now hmmmm~?" The raccoon girl giggled and ran off singing about how she is a villain.

Neo smirked and picked up the lockpick she had swiped with her teeth while the raccoon girl was kissing Roman and entirely focused on that.

Using it first to free herself and then Roman, they got up.

"You are truly amazing, Neo." Roman said in awe. "I was about to ask what that clattering was. But now I am happy I didnt bring attention to it."

Neo spawned them both some ice cream and they ate their dessert together.

"You know neo, about what she said... I HAVE two hands you know." And he held out his ice cream covered gloved hands. Since they had not dishes, they ate out of cupped hands. Technically it was only Roman who got sustainance out of it, as Neo had to use an equivalent amount of her aural energy to make the ice cream in the first place.

Anyway, apon hearing this joke Neo smiled in her sweet/creepy way and held both of his hands in hers. They then kissed, and they lived happily ever-

"Stop right there criminal scum! You have violated the law, now pay your fine or its off to jail!" A Huntsman shouted. He was decked out in medieval looking armor and was holding a crowbar that was also a gun.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

The Novelist and the King 6 Of Blades and Fury

Caspian X x OC

Words: 2820

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Summary: Amelia and Caspian argue over her choice to compete in a sword fighting tournament. 

Note: I’m so glad so many of you are enjoying this series. I absolutely love writing it. Since I’ll be entering the official plot of Voyage of the Dawn Treader, writing may take a little longer because I have to consult the script to make the writing accurate to the film. Enjoy!

The entire room fell silent. Caspian’s fork landed on his plate with a clatter and Amelia nearly choked.

“What?” She squeaked. Kestra looked at her with malice.

“Weren’t you just telling me the other night how skilled you are with a blade?” Everyone’s eyes were on Amelia as she stumbled for a response.

“But Kestra, she’s a- she’s-” The duke faltered. Kestra laughed.  

“Oh please, father. Times are changing.” She lounged back in her chair. “Besides, if a woman is willing to fight when a man won’t, shouldn’t she be allowed?” She smiled at Amelia as if they were old friends, but Amelia could see the hint of cruel intentions in her gaze. “And Amelia will fight, won’t you?”

The logical thing to do would be to politely decline. But sitting there, staring into Kestra’s challenging eyes, logic was the last thing on Amelia’s mind. She sat up as tall as she could in her chair and smirked.

“It would be my pleasure.” She said, earning a chorus of gasps, including Caspian’s. His expression deepened with worry and dread.

“The pleasure is mine.” Kasto replied, eyeing Amelia hungrily. The duke shrugged and send her a bright smile.

“Very well. Lady Amelia will face off against reigning champion of the tournament; my dear son Kasto.” He announced. “You both have three hours to prepare. The tournament will begin at midday. Good luck.” With those final words, he dismissed the group and everyone scattered in different directions; Amelia heading back to the ship with Caspian following at her heels. He rushed and stopped in front of her, shifting to block her path when she tried to go around him.

“What in Aslan’s name just happened?” He hissed, but he wasn’t angry, so to speak. He could never find himself truly angry with Amelia. No, what Caspian felt now was pure panic.

“I was given a challenge and I accepted.” Amelia shrugged, keeping her own fear tucked away in her chest. “Please allow me to go prepare.” When she tried to maneuver around him again, he placed firm hands on her shoulders, holding her in place before him.

“Amelia…” He sighed in frustration. “You don't understand what you are doing.”  

“I know very well what I am doing, your Majesty.” She snapped. Her words were no longer teasing, but instead spiteful. Caspian’s eyes pleaded desperately with hers.

“I beg you, tell me what this is all about.”

“It’s just a little friendly competition.” His hands moved from her shoulders to her arms and he shook her gently.

“Men have died at Kasto’s hand! I fear he will show you no more mercy than he did them.” He laid a hand on her cheek but she fiercely pulled away.

“I do not ask for anyone’s mercy.” She spat and finally pushed passed him. Part of her desperately wanted him to follow, to forbid her from fighting. But he just stood, his hands falling helplessly to his sides.

Her feet shuffled forward and back as her blade cut through the air. She has exactly one hour until the tournament and she still felt completely unprepared. What had she been thinking? She was still very new to sword fighting and now she was to compete against the duke’s son; champion of the tournament. But when she had seen Kestra’s greedy and spiteful gaze, all Amelia wanted to prove how wrong the spoiled girl was. Now, standing on the deck of the Dawn Treader, her confidence had faded.

“I will ask you once more.” Caspian said quietly from behind her. “Please… do not compete in this tournament.” Every part of him wanted to reach out to her, to wrap his arms around her and refuse to let her go. Part of her wanted to let him.

“I already agreed, Caspian.” She sighed, returning her sword to its sheath. “I cannot simply back out.”

“Amelia,” he took a step towards her. “You don’t have to prove anything to those women.” She inhaled sharply. He had come to the conclusion after being bombarded with questions from Lady Kestra and Amelia’s reaction now told him he was correct.

“I’m not trying to prove anything.” She lied. She wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to prove. Perhaps she was trying to convince herself that she belonged here; by the side of a king.

A man in the distance began to approach the ship, waving at Amelia to join him. Caspian shuttered at the way Kasto’s stare remained fixed below Amelia’s face.

“I hope you will spectate the tournament, but I will not hold it against you if you choose not to attend.” She didn’t even turn back to look at Caspian before crossing back onto land. She couldn’t bear to see the look on his face as she left. She didn’t need to see the hurt in his eyes to know it was there.

Caspian grimaced as Kasto offered Amelia his arm and she laced hers with it. He shut his eyes tight and hit his fist hard on the railing of the ship. Pain shot through his hand, rippling up his arm, but he paid no attention to it. All that mattered was the girl now walking away from him.

Kasto lead Amelia to a small gazebo in the garden of the palace. She hid her discomfort with a polite smile. She recognized the way his stare traveled up and down her figure. It was the same look she received every day when she worked for Jimmy.

“I just thought I would come and wish you luck.” He began, leaning against a bench.

“And I to you.” She replied, hoping that that was the end of it. But as his finger traced up her arm, she feared there was much more he wanted to discuss.

“I find this whole manor of battle very nonsensical.” He leaned towards her. “I believe there are many other ways to cease this conflict between you and my sister. In fact,” his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him, “I may even have a suggestion.”

“How dare you?” Amelia spat, violently shoving him away, the rage and disgust formed from his touch radiating from her.

“Come now.” He brushed off. “There is no need to be dramatic. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it before.” Amelia, repulsed and enraged, resisted the urge to slap him.

“I am with King Caspian. You dare lay your hands on me and ask me to come to bed with you?”

“You’ll have to excuse my surprise.” He chuckled darkly. “I have never been denied before.”

“Clearly you have never met a woman with a shred of self-respect.” She stormed off, trudging through the gardens as Kasto glared after her. “Or standards for that matter.” She added under her breath.

Back in the gazebo, Kestra appeared by her brother’s side.

“I take it she did not accept your offer.” She sneered and Kasto clenched his fists.

“Has her armor been… adjusted?” He growled. Kestra leaned in so her lips were by his ear as she whispered.

“It will slice like paper.” The siblings snickered and walked arm-in-arm to the arena.

Amelia entered the tent set for her and ran her fingers through her hair, biting her lip as she let out an angered cry. After arriving in Narnia, she thought that she would never feel that kind of humiliation again. Her arm still held the memory of his vile touch and tears burned in her eyes.

Her armor has been laid out on the cot provided for her. She slipped it on and pulled the straps tight. In her anger, she didn’t notice it’s unusual lightness. The trumpets sounded, announcing that the battle was about to begin. She flung open the curtain of the tend and made her way towards the arena, the gravel path crunching under her boots.

Caspian shifted uneasily his seat in the stands. Since he was the guest of honor, a canopy hung over his head to protect him from the heat. His heart pounded in his ears as Amelia appeared at her entrance, her metal armor glistening. There was something strange about her expression. Something that told Caspian that her meeting with Kasto didn’t go well. Kasto waltzed into ring with a pompous smirk on his face.

Amelia felt her stomach churn as she walked to the center of the ring. She drew her sword and bowed, Kasto doing the same. The final trumpet sounded and the tournament began.

Kasto shifted this way and that, swinging his blade through the air tauntingly.  Amelia was the first to lunge. Anger and degradation fueled her movements making them quick and precise.

Kasto countered her advances with equal skill. It was like a dance, one moving back, the other forward. Every step made Caspian’s heart lurch, his knuckles turning white from gripping the chair. As the battle grew more intense, Kasto came close enough to speak without being heard.

“Could you imagine what it would have been like? You and I?” He purred thoughtfully, Amelia knowing exactly what he was thinking of. “I mean, just think.” Amelia swung her blade and met his in a cross. He leaned in.

“It’s not too late, Amy.”

“My name is Amelia, you pig.” She hissed, spitting into his face. With an enraged cry, Kasto brought his sword down and struck her side, her armor buckling and splintering into her skin. She gasped in shock. His blade cut deeply and felt blood seeping through her shirt.

“Amelia!” A voice called out as she collapsed.

Caspian leapt over the barricade separating the strands from the arena and sprinted across the ring, kneeling by Amelia’s side. He pressed his hands to her wound, slicing his palms on the sharp metal of the splitting armor.

“Someone get me a doctor!” He shouted. “Hurry!”

“Caspian…” Amelia gasped. Her breathing was labored and shallow. The wound was frighteningly deep and black lined the edges of her vision. She tried to sit up. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” Caspian laughed to keep himself from becoming hysterical while he gently forced her to lie back down. Seeing her blood drip onto the dirt heightened his panic.

“The cordial.” He suddenly muttered. He turned to a group of his men. “Someone bring me Queen Lucy’s cordial! And quickly!” They all rushed in the direction of the Dawn Treader. He held Amelia in his arms, her head resting in his lap. “You’re going to be alright.”

His men didn't returned until what felt like hours later. One handed Caspian the small glass bottle. He popped out the cork and brought the orange-red liquid to her lips.He made sure a small drop fell onto her tongue before drawing the bottle away.

Amelia coughed and licked her lips. When Caspian reexamined her wound, it has faded away.

“You’re alright.” He sighed in relief, pulling her up in his arms. His tears fell into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay. May I?” He motioned toward her armor. She nodded meekly.

Amelia remained silent as Caspian unstrapped her armor and lifted it off of her. It cracked and groaned in his hands. A new wave of fury spread through him. It has been made from mere scrap metal- hardly thicker than a fingernail. He shot the Duke’s children a dark look before scooping Amelia up in his arms and carried her out of the arena.

The Duke rushed after him, apologizing profusely. He rambled on about a mistake with the metal or the blade. Caspian turned to his first mate.

“Prepare the ship.” He commanded. “We leave at dusk.”

“But-but your Majesty-” The Duke stammered. “This is just one big misunderstanding.”

“It has been made clear that Lady Amelia is not welcome in Glama.” Caspian snapped. “Therefore, neither am I. I thank you for your hospitality, but we shall not stay a moment longer.”

“Y-yes your Majesty.” The Duke bowed, a truly apologetic look on his face. How could such a joyous man produce such terrible, vile children? Caspian thought. “I will prepare supplies to be sent with you.”

Through everything, Amelia remained silent. She was limp in Caspian’s arms, her fingers curled in a soft grip on his shirt. Shame burned on her cheeks, refusing to let herself cry. It felt as if this moment crushing her. It squeezed the life out of her chest. It felt as if this moment has changed everything.

They left Galma as soon as the sun has fallen behind the horizon. Amelia had retreated to the her room and had yet to emerge after nearly a day of sailing. Caspian had need to to put as much ocean between him and Kasto as quickly as possible. He feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he saw the arrogant boy again.

Caspian distracted himself with planning the next part of their journey. He found, however that it was extremely difficult to focus on a map when all he could think was Amelia. His gaze subconsciously landed on the door to her quarters. She hadn’t uttered a word to him since the fight and the silence was tearing him apart.

Unable to bear it any longer, he crossed the deck and knocked softly on the door. He could hear quiet footfalls from within, but no response.

“Amelia?” He whispered. “Please… open the door.” The knob turned and the door opened slightly. He slipped inside and closed it behind him.

“Do you need something?” Amelia asked, her voice hoarse.

“Amelia…” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. ��I just want you to talk to me.”

“There is nothing to talk about.” She responded rashly. How she yearned for Caspian to hold her. But she shied away from him, keeping to the edges of the room.

“You could have died!” He exclaimed, trying not to raise his voice. She cast her eyes to the floor.

“Did you doubt me?” Caspian stepped towards her, but she stayed away.

“What?” He gasped, surprised that she could even ask that.

“Why did you beg me not to compete? Was it my skills? Did you doubt my abilities? Was it so apparent that I would fail?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why!”

“Because I love you!” He shouted, his words echoing through the small room as well as her heart.

“Y-you… you what?” She breathed. He crossed to her and this time she didn’t scurry away. He placed his hands on either side of her face.

“I love you, Amelia. More than I could possibly say. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being harmed. And when I saw you collapse, I thought my heart would never recover. My love for you stretches farther than this very ocean. It reaches into the stars that brought you to me. Amelia, if I were to lose you… I don’t think I’d survive.” His eyes bored into hers so intensely she feared to even try to turn away. Finally, she spoke.

“And I love you, Caspian.” She closed the space between them and collided her lips into his. This kiss was different than any of the other’s they had shared. It was passionate and deep, as if she was breathing through him. When they pulled away, she stared at the ground. “I should have listened to you. None of this would have happened if I had just listened.”

“This is not your fault.” Caspian said, tracing her chin with his fingers, lifting her head up to look at him. “The armor they gave you was tampered with. I have complete faith that you would have made Kasto wish he had never met you.”

The memory of Kasto’s hands on her waist jumped to her thoughts. She pushed it aside and pulled Caspian in for another blissful kiss.

The commotion from beyond the door caught both of their attentions. They gave each other a look before rushing out to find the crew frantically looking at something in the water.

“Man overboard!” Someone called and the two quickly joined them by the railing where they found three people floundering in the sea.

“It can’t be.” Caspian gasped, a smile playing at his lips. He took off his jacket and dived in after them, two other crewman doing the same. As they lifted them onto the ship, Amelia tried to place where she had seen the young girl and one of the boys before. They seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t quite figure out why.

She tried to ignore the way Caspian’s white shirt clung to his frame, made semitransparent by the water. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks when he caught  her staring and smirked.

He was handed a pile of towels and gave them the three, keeping one for himself.

“Amelia,” He started, drying his hair. “Meet Lucy and Edmund Pevensie. King and Queen of Narnia.”

[postgamecontent]

Panzer Dragoon Saga: SEGA Saturn Spotlight #4

Original Release Date: January 29, 1998

Original Hardware: SEGA Saturn

Developer/Publisher: Team Andromeda/SEGA

At least as far as North American gamers went, Panzer Dragoon Saga never really got a chance to be assessed just on its own merits. SEGA of America's baffling decision to limit the game's print run meant that the game was considered rare immediately upon release. As the years passed without a reprint or re-release, the game's legend only grew. Some consider it not just the best SEGA Saturn game but one of the best RPGs of all-time, and I can't help but wonder how much its scarcity plays into that. It's a solid game with a lot of unconventional ideas that probably came about as a necessary result of tying it in with its rail-shooter predecessors, but I'm not sure I'm as over the moon with it as some appear to be. That being said, I would include it on any short list of the top Saturn RPGs, and the notoriety its rarity caused may well have made it the most famous Saturn-exclusive game.

That's a fitting title for a Panzer Dragoon game, I think. While the series did manage to spill out onto other hardware platforms, I personally feel that Panzer Dragoon is iconic of the SEGA Saturn in a way that no other brand is. The first game in the series was a highlight of an otherwise lackluster launch period for the console. Its sequel, Panzer Dragoon Zwei, remains one of the finest showcases of the Saturn's 3D capabilities. Then there's Panzer Dragoon Saga, a game that helped the Saturn blow off the doors on its way out. While many members of the developer Team Andromeda stuck around at SEGA to work on Panzer Dragoon Orta and assorted other projects, the team as a unit disbanded after Panzer Dragoon Saga. Team Andromeda was born on the Saturn, lived on the Saturn, and ultimately died with it.

Panzer Dragoon Saga began development not long after Panzer Dragoon Zwei. Having just come off the fairly successful first game, Team Andromeda split into two teams. One of the two teams, comprised of around 30 members, set about the task of making a direct follow-up to the first game's rail-shooting action. The remaining staff began work on Panzer Dragoon Saga. They would be joined by the bulk of of Panzer Dragoon Zwei's staff once that game was finished and released in early 1996. Most of the first year was spent simply figuring out the design challenges of adapting the shooting action into a role-playing game format. Fortunately, they had the rather capable Panzer Dragoon Zwei engine to use as a base for their game, so some of the programming obstacles were already addressed from the start.

Nevertheless, the development of Panzer Dragoon Saga was a serious challenge. Team Andromeda had virtually no prior experience developing RPGs, which proved to be a double-edged sword. They had to figure out a lot along the way, but their inexperience is likely what led to Panzer Dragoon Saga's many innovative ideas. They were not only embarking on their first RPG, but also a fully 3D RPG. More capable systems than the Saturn were largely relying on pre-rendered backgrounds to free up polygons for the characters, but Panzer Dragoon Saga rendered as much as it could in real-time polygonal graphics, allowing the camera more freedom. This was no mean feat for the Saturn, but Team Andromeda had a knack with the system that was nearly unmatched. If anyone was going to be able to get good results out of the Saturn on this particular front, it would be them.

The game spent nearly four years in development and, for their part, SEGA threw a lot of resources behind it. The game featured an all-star Japanese voice cast, a vocal theme from the artist who performed the Japanese dub of Belle in Disney's Beauty and the Beast, and even made use of motion capture, a relative rarity at the time. The game also uses an extensive amount of pre-rendered CG video, the main cause behind it shipping on four discs. SEGA clearly had high hopes for the game, which likely put even more pressure on what was already the most ambitious project Team Andromeda had ever attempted. Tempers flared, relationships were damaged, and the game's director Yukio Futatsugi found himself having to take on a stricter role than he was used to. Two staff members died during the game's production, and Futatsugi believes it was due to the stress involved in the game's creation. Now, SEGA may have been restructuring their internal teams at the time anyway, but I doubt that was the only reason many members of Team Andromeda went their separate ways following Panzer Dragoon Saga's release.

By the time the game released worldwide in the first half of 1998, the writing was on the wall for the SEGA Saturn. The system still had a healthy following in Japan, but SEGA's subsidiaries in other countries were already preparing to clear the deck for their next (and final) console, the Dreamcast. SEGA of America was particularly strident about putting the ailing 32-bit console to rest. The person who oversaw the Genesis era where SEGA of America had found the company's greatest success, Tom Kalinske, had parted ways with the company a couple of years earlier after the Saturn failed to catch on. His replacement, Bernie Stolar, was brought in for a very specific purpose: to do for the Dreamcast what he had done for the PlayStation when he was the Vice President of Sony Computer Entertainment of America. Keeping the loyal Saturn owners happy wasn't one of his priorities.

So it was that Panzer Dragoon Saga launched in America with a rumored shipment of 20,000 copies available for the system's 1.8 million North American owners. SEGA of America shorted just about every shipment of their last several Saturn releases, but Panzer Dragoon Saga was easily their biggest miscalculation in this regard. Stolar apparently had something of a disdain for RPGs, which may have had some business justification during his early years at Sony but looked positively absurd in a post-Final Fantasy 7 world. Panzer Dragoon Saga had a lot of buzz, and reviews of the game seemed to confirm that said buzz wasn’t just fluff, making it the highest-rated Saturn game ever released. Now, I'm not a fool. I know the reality of the Saturn's position in the world in 1998. But I also know that SEGA could have sold a lot more copies of that game than they did. They could probably more than double their sales of the game if they reprinted the Saturn version today, even.

Indeed, a reprint of the Saturn version of the game is probably the best we can hope for with regards to seeing Panzer Dragoon Saga re-released. Through some means or another, the source code for the game was lost almost immediately. No one has publicly gone on the record about what happened, but it was confirmed that it wasn't simply lost through carelessness. Given the volatile condition of Team Andromeda after the game was completed, I wouldn't be surprised if something happened to the code in the chaos. Thus, hopes for a re-release of the game are pinned on one of two possibilities: a from-scratch remake, or an emulated release. SEGA has always been shy about the former with regards to Saturn games, and while the latter is certainly possible on today's hardware, it's hard to say if there's a sufficiently large market for Saturn games to merit investing in a proper emulator.

Fortunately for me, the Japanese version isn't terribly hard to come by. The game sold nearly 100,000 copies in Japan and doesn't have nearly the buzz around its collectibility that it has in other regions. You can therefore get your hands on good used copy of the game for under $30, an average price for a game released late in the Saturn's life. Since I sold off my only copy of the English version a while back, this was my only way to replay the game. Still, it was fun to play through the game in its original language. SEGA did a decent job on its localization, but games of this era often read better in Japanese than they do in English.

For such a big production, Panzer Dragoon Saga's story feels smaller in scope than the RPG trend at the time would dictate. The plot deliberately focuses on a small handful of people and while the stakes are high in one sense, you're not exactly trying to save the world, either. You play as Edge, a member of a mercenary group hired by the Empire to guard their latest excavation site. A monster attack leads to you discovering a mysterious girl buried in the wall of the site. No sooner do Edge and his companions make their way out of the site than another attack comes, this time from the rebel Black Fleet. They kill Edge's friends, grab the girl, and leave Edge for dead. After inputting your name, you'll watch a white light descend back into the site, where we find Edge miraculously alive, floating in some water.

Edge soon joins up with the dragon and decides he'd like a hot dish of revenge for his fallen companions. He meets up with a scavenger named Gash who gives him some information in exchange for a ride. Edge eventually catches up with the Black Fleet and its leader, Craymen, but quickly comes to blows with the Fleet's newest ally: the mysterious girl Azel and her dragon Atolm. Craymen has made his way to one of the ancient towers, said to hold great power to those who can make use of them. Edge ends up clashing with Azel again, this time ending with both of them separated from their dragons and stranded together.

It's here that we learn Azel's story. She is a bio-engineered drone from an ancient era. She was designed for the purpose of interfacing with the towers, which is why Craymen was searching for her. The two eventually find their dragons again and go their own ways, with Azel warning Edge that she'll kill him if he crosses Craymen again. I don't want to spoil the whole game, but suffice it to say that a lot of parties get involved in this pursuit for power, and it's hard to know who you can trust. Craymen in particular has a lot of nuance to his character and even after all is said and done, it's hard to say whether he was wrong or right. There's certainly a lot of hubris to go around among just about every member of the main cast, at least.

Alright, I'd like to do two paragraphs of spoilers now. If you ever plan on playing the game, skip this paragraph and the next. Panzer Dragoon Saga makes use of a clever trick you might have seen before and may have seen since. The white light at the beginning of the game was you, the player, inhabiting the body of Edge, presumably bringing him back to life. You are the Divine Visitor destined to bring an end to the merciless rule of Sestren, an AI network that controls the towers and, through them, the world. The dragon that you've been riding for the past three games is actually a rogue AI program that Sestren purged, which is why it's able to change its form so easily. In each of the games, the dragon makes an attempt to cause damage to Sestren. In this game, it finally succeeds. Sestren falls, and humanity is for better or worse on its own from now on.

It's a future that Edge won't see. It's hard to say if he would have survived your essence leaving his body, but he ends up sacrificing himself anyway to put a stop to Sestren. Azel, having fallen in love with Edge and believing he is still out there somewhere, begins a search whose outcome we won't get to see in this game. Panzer Dragoon Orta, the final game in the series, sheds some light on what happens with her. It's a real downer of an ending, as we get to see how Edge's friends wait for him to return as he promised. We as the players and the agents of his demise know the truth, but they don't. This ending was another interesting way that the narrative subverted RPG norms.

Okay, it's safe from here. I want to talk about the gameplay mechanics of Panzer Dragoon Saga, because it's here where the game really gets weird. For starters, your battle party will only ever consist of you and your mount. While many exploration sections have Edge walking around on foot, you'll mostly be getting around on the back of your dragon. To examine things in the environment, you have to lock-on to them the same way you would with your lasers in the previous games. This works for opening chests, manipulating switches, and even talking to people. The game uses an overworld map with points of interest on it. You simply direct your character to the area you want to go to and you'll enter it. This areas can be quite large and made up of multiple maps, so it's not like the game is hurting for size, either.

While there are some fixed battles here and there, most of the fights are random encounters. Once you're in a battle, the game's roots become clear. Your character has an action gauge that fills up over time. You'll need at least one bar to take any actions save moving around. Speaking of which, you can switch your positioning relative to the enemy at any time. Your action bar will freeze while you do this, however, so it's best to try to stick to one side as long as you can. Enemies will be weak from certain angles and use stronger attacks from others. One of the main strategies in the battles in Panzer Dragoon Saga is in using positioning to minimize damage taken and maximize damage dealt. Once you have your meter charged, you can fire off Edge's bowgun with precision aiming, fire a scattered shot of homing lasers courtesy of the dragon, or make use of one of the dragon's special abilities. These function sort of like magic does in other RPGs, dealing some heavy damage, buffing your character, or even healing.

I'll grant that it's not the deepest system around, but it's awfully fun. You have to learn each enemy's quirks, figure out which ones you want to prioritize in mixed groups, and act quickly to avoid taking more damage than necessary. You'll probably find yourself pounding on the buttons waiting for the meters to fill up, but it's still quite action packed thanks to the need to constantly shift your position. The developers really did capture the feeling of a Panzer Dragoon rail shooter while bringing it firmly into RPG territory. Lest you get too bored doing the same thing all the time, the game also features a system that allows you to change your dragon into a number of different types, each with their own stats and special abilities. This is done via a cool slider that morphs your dragon's appearance in real-time. So if you want to go in hard on direct combat, you can switch to the attack-focused form, for example. You have granular control over just how far your dragon leans into each stat, too. I don't think I've played any other RPG with a system similar to this, so it still feels fresh today.

The game hasn't aged spectacularly well from a visual standpoint, though. The CG videos look pretty good even now, but they are certainly of their era. The 3D graphics look alright when you're cruising around on your dragon's back, but less so when you're on foot or in towns. The battles are probably where it shines the most, which makes a lot of sense. Most of the battles opt for some truly cinematic camera angles from certain positions on the field. The developer largely controls what you can or can't see from any given angle, which probably gave them the freedom to cut loose in those fights. For a 3D Saturn game it looks great overall, even in its weaker portions, but I'm not sure how high of praise that is in the current year. 

Naturally, the audio holds up just fine. The voice cast really was packed with talent, most of whom are still doing quite a bit of work in games and anime today. Composers Saori Kobayashi and Mariko Nanba turned in an outstanding soundtrack that matched the tone established in previous installments and taking things out a bit further to match the increase in scope. SEGA at one time sold an official soundtrack for the game that I would heartily recommend were it not, like the game, out of print. Hopefully one of the fine music companies releasing retro game soundtracks will eventually get to this one, because it deserves to be heard. I suppose with the game's 20th anniversary coming up next year, anything is possible, right?

Replaying Panzer Dragoon Saga was an interesting experience. Its legend has lost some of its shine for me over the years, so I think I was more able to understand its true nature this time around versus playing it in an ecstatic state brought on by actually finding the blasted thing. The lock-on interface is kind of cumbersome and screaming for a second stick. The graphics don't look all that great when you get close to things, but the camera choreography is still excellent. Along with the somewhat action-based system, it makes battles feel much more exciting than those found in most RPGs. I've played a few more games that used a similar narrative twist now, so that doesn't come off quite as impressively as it once did.

My biggest take-away from the game is that there's still nothing out there quite like it. Perhaps it's owing to its complexity, or maybe even its scarcity and resultant obscurity, but I can't think of any other RPG I've played that takes a similar approach to its battle system. I also appreciate the game's quick pace more than I used to. I find as I get older, I like it when a game doesn't waste too much of my time on filler. That's a big contrast from when I was younger, when time was apparently endless and new games came infrequently.

Above all, Panzer Dragoon Saga deserves to be far more widely-played. It's baffling that SEGA has yet to take a gamble on the game's notoriety with a re-release, even knowing what that would entail. Its ambiguous themes, innovative gameplay systems, and unusual plot would likely play quite well with modern RPG fans, and if that meant the game had to be rebuilt from scratch, well, the graphics could probably use that anyway. I won't go as far as to say this is one of the best RPGs of all-time, but it's really enjoyable to play and more than a little bizarre in its execution. I can't help but appreciate games like that.

Previous: Shining the Holy Ark

If you enjoyed reading this article and can't wait to get more, consider subscribing to the Post Game Content Patreon. Just $1/month gets you early access to articles like this one, exclusive extra posts, and my undying thanks.

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Swept Away, Part 1

Characters: Dean Winchester (23 years old, so preseason 1), Reader. (future x reader) mentions of John, Sam and Reader’s family.

Warnings: ANGST, Dean’s self worth problems, severe injury, canon level violence. Mention of medications for pain and anxiety. Also, abuse of John Winchester’s parenting skills. This part is PG-13 but will be at least R in future parts. (Also credit to whoever made the gif, its not mine. I found it on Google.)

Summary: John sends Dean to the mountains of Agness, Oregon alone to track a possible werewolf. What he finds turns out to be a little more than he can handle. Dean is left wondering if his father set him up to fail.

A/N: So, this was written for @mamaredd123‘s Angst Appreciation Day Challenge, Shred All the Hearts. My prompt was to use the song ‘Listen to Your Heart’ by Roxette and to rip peoples hearts out. I hope I deliver on this request. I’m late as hell and I deeply apologize. This is only the first part, but there is plenty of angst here to enjoy.

I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yea. You've built a love but that love falls apart. Your little piece of heaven turns too dark.

 It was a sunny, warm day in Agness, Oregon, and you couldn’t get a Roxette song out of your head. You had no idea why it was stuck on replay, but it wasn’t unusual for your brain to taunt you in this way. Wisps of thin clouds that look like they've been painted on a bright blue sky float by on a cool breeze. A promise that the temperature will drop nearly thirty degrees when the sun goes down due to the proximity of the mountains. You like the feeling of freedom that the place gives you, but you could do without the dramatic drops in temperature.

 Your house sitting while your grandparents are spending the summer touring Europe. Being a junior in college, and accepting anything that would give decent pay, you are actually enjoying your alone time. Whether you are home in Seattle, Washington or at school at Washington State in Pullman, you are constantly surrounded by people.

 Out here, in your grandparent’s cabin on the bank of the Rogue River, it's peaceful. You found yourself sitting on the deck most days, typing away at the book you've been writing for a year now. But, you can't expect much else from an English major with aspirations of publishing your many adventures one day, can you?

 You don't really want for anything out here, except for maybe a Starbucks. You drive an hour out to buy a couple of weeks’ worth of groceries and that is your quota fill of socializing. If you are feeling extra adventurous, you stop at the Olive Garden on the route back home.

 Agness is a small town, filled with mostly retired couples and the occasional tourist. From your trips into the quaint downtown to get your Starbucks fix in the form of a glass bottled Frappuccino, you’d met pretty much everyone in the neighborhood.

 The residents all treat you like you are their own grandchild, dropping off meals and baked goods regularly. There is also Dr. Marjorie Foster, a divorcee who likes to pop by after crazy days at the hospital to share a bottle of wine and sarcastic banter. So, although you are technically alone, you feel rather safe and spoiled.

 Listen to your heart when he's calling for you. Listen to your heart there's nothing else you can do.

That's probably why you were drawn to the black Chevy Impala parked to the left of the small parking lot. It was parked beneath a copse of trees, like the big black beauty could ever be inconspicuous. Add that to the silver scratches all along its side and hood, plus the flat tire that was sitting on its rim, made it even harder to miss.

 Maybe it's your insatiable curiosity that makes you walk a little closer to the damaged vehicle? It does tend to get you into a lot of trouble. You'd probably never know for sure. But you won't forget your first look inside.

 The upholstery is slashed open, bits of yellow foam and tufts of heavy cotton are strewn about. But what catches your attention is the motionless heap in the back seat that you know, just by the sinking feeling in your gut, is a person who needs help.

 You won't remember how you closed the distance between you and the car so quickly. Or your train of thought when you try to open the door only to discover it locked. You wrap your over shirt over your arm and put your elbow through the window without hesitation. You'll question your strength later.

 By now Gregory, Matilda's husband (the one who makes incredible venison stew), stops pumping gas to see what all the commotion is about. You are already digging through the seat stuffing and blankets by the time he arrives behind you.

 You faintly hear him speaking to someone on the phone, reporting in a panicked yet succinct tone to emergency officials, when you finally find bloody, pale skin. Luckily, it's attached to a person who is unfortunately torn to shreds.

 “Hey!” You don't dare move him. Isn't that one of the basic rules in case of a back or neck injury? When the final blanket is pulled back you see the sharp jaw and hint of rose gold stubble. “Sir, can you hear me?” Your only response is a growled groan muffled by the seat where he has his face buried. But, at least it's something, right?

 You take a quick survey of the inside of the car, noting used bandage papers and an empty bottle of cheap whiskey. When you climb into the car and sit down, your foot kicks an old bottle of pills. Was the man suicidal? All of this blood loss, whisky and upon looking at the label you discover that it is Darvocet. That stuff had been pulled off the market for years now!

 “Hey, you with me?” He eases himself painfully slow into a sitting position, causing him to cry out hoarsely in pain. His voice already shredded like he had already done some screaming. He's panting in loud, painfully abrupt breaths through his open mouth. Everything about his boyish face is pinched with pain. Your heart squeezes with sympathy and absolute helplessness. You should've gone to med school like your dad wanted you to. Then you'd know exactly what to do.

 You note then that his front side doesn't look any better than his blood soaked back does. It also revealed how his left leg is mangled and twisted in unnatural directions. Some of the blood is dried, making his skin stick to the seat. There’s no telling how long he'd been in this car bleeding and in pain.

 “T’ll S- S’mmy, ‘m s-s’rry.” When you finally lock onto his ghost pale face, the expression there kicks you right in the stomach with a steel toed boot. His split bottom lip and chin are quivering with repressed emotion. His voice comes out shaky and raspy because he's vibrating with shivers that you know probably mean that he's in shock. He's probably been in shock for a while.

 I don't know where you're going and I don't know why, but listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.

 This guy, because man seemed like a bit much since he couldn't be much older than you, may very well have been trying to end it all if the pain openly displayed on his face is anything to go by. Through the black, crusted blood you can tell with startling clarity the difference between the physical and emotional pain on his expressive face.

 You fight the urge to push his hair out of his eyes, which is obviously overgrown from a short haircut. It appears that way, anyway, judging by the shaggy and uneven ends. He looks like even his hair follicles hurt, caked in crusted and congealing blood, so you refrain.

 “You're gonna tell him yourself.” You answer firmly as you wrap the scratchy, stiff blanket back over his shoulders when he shivers again violently.

 Even that small movement prompts deeply hurt, wounded noises that get caught in the back of his throat, but you can tell that he's trying to hide just how much pain he’s in.

 It makes you briefly wonder how someone who should be going to college or discovering themselves learned to be that damned stoic. “Hang in there, helps on the way. Is there anyone I can call for you?” You plead, wishing that the ambulance would hurry so that there was a way to eventually rectify the abject misery on his face. He's looking at you through his pain filled gaze as he softy answers ‘no’ and it rips your heart out. You feel inept and helpless.

 Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile. The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yea. They're swept away and nothing is what it seems, the feeling of belonging to your dreams.

 “An’ m’dad, too. T-t’ll m’s-srry I c’dn’t f-finish th’ j’b.” Liquid that has been building up in his eyes soon gives way to fat tears that tracks strange patterns through the new and old blood when he can't hold them back anymore. As he confesses what he thinks are his last words through busted, numb lips, it makes an icy shiver skip down your spine. “…’ts m’ f-fault… p-people ‘r g’nna die ‘causa m-me…” Tears progress into hiccupping sobs that make him squeeze his eyes shut against what you feel he thinks of as weakness and pain.

 You look briefly for a wallet or phone, finding the latter on the floorboard. You get two seconds to feel victorious before you discover that there is a giant tooth mark in the middle, cracking the small screen into unusable pieces. “Shit.” Just what the hell had he gotten into that would cause so much damage? “What's your name?” You look for somewhere uninjured to rest a reassuring hand but can't find anywhere promising.

 “Dean W’nchester.” You'll realize later how profound it is that he gave you his real name. That it was because all of his layers and walls were stripped down to nothing.

 You know his bottomless green-hazel eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life if he doesn't make it. There was no other ending that you can bear to imagine for him. You know it sounds so naïve, but someone with this much soul can't just die such a horrific death all alone. You feel a small amount of relief when you can finally hear the sirens of the ambulance in the distance.

 “They'll be here any second.” As you say the words you're not sure who you're trying to console more.

 There's an hour drive to the nearest hospital in Gold Beach in his future. It's a small hospital that is the size of maybe two Costco warehouses shoved together. But surely, amongst their few floors of equipment and educated staff, they can fix the broken pieces?

 In the two seconds of silence you decide that you can be positive enough for the both of you.

 “Dean Winchester?” You rest your hand lightly over the one he isn't using to prop himself up. It startles you when his cold sweat covered hand grasps yours back painfully tight. The way he clings to you like you're a lifeline make tears pool in your eyes. “You're gonna make it. I promise.”

 Dean’s POV:

I wake up suddenly, claws and massive, drooling jowls snap viciously at me from behind deep, shifting shadows. It feels like the beast is sitting on my chest, making it cave in. It's putrid, hot breath on my face. My ribs barely put up a fight before they snap like twigs beneath its weight, white hot, stabbing pains through my belly.

 I try to struggle free but my arms and legs won't obey my commands for them to move. To fight back. So, all I can do is wait for him to consume me for dinner. All I hear are growls and distant shouting that are drowning out a strange, tinny beeping noise in the background. It reminds me of the sound of its claws digging into Baby’s quarter panel as it tried to peel her open and drag me back out into the dark of the mountain. Of the liquid heat of pain as it's claws raked through my skin like I was soft butter.

 But then I hear, “Dean.” It kind of sounds like Sammy before his voice changed, soft and kind, if a little static and warped. But that can't be right. I hope that it means that the past few years were a nightmare, but it's only a slight hope. Good things rarely happen to a Winchester.

 It's probably some newly created fresh hell conjured to torture and destroy me in my last seconds on earth. The thing I was hunting was a were wolf, I was sure of it. He looked normal, all wolfed out with gray, wiry hair. But when it found me… It was like his senses and strength were beyond what a normal were was capable of.

 But it's too tempting not to answer, even if it's not real, as the tinny noise gets louder and more frantic. I'd give anything to be able to talk to Sam and tell him how sorry I am. I'd kill to tell him that I would stand up to Dad more so that we don't have to move around so much. So he can go to college close by. Anything. I can be better so he wants to come back.

 The crushing weight of remembering that I'm alone nearly drowns out the relief of hearing Sam's voice. But I'm just that delirious to believe.

 “S’mmy?”

 I gag, choking on something that tastes a lot like old blood and cotton balls stuck in my throat. I finally get my arm to move so that I can remove whatever is clinging to my face. So that I can catch my breath but something heavy slams into my forehead.

 “Dean. Hey, Dean! Please stop, you're gonna hurt yourself.”

 And just like that all the fight drains out of me, envisioning a young Sammy with his stupid floppy hair and worry bright little kid eyes that are way too smart for his own good. “K, S’mmy. M’ s’rry.”

 “You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay.” I feel the softest pressure against my temple and fingers brushing through my hair before I tunnel into nothingness.

 When I wake up the second time the beeping doesn't sound so tinny. With the way my body and head aches, it actually sounds like its right in my ear. Fuck. I hope Sam got the license plate number off the damn truck that mowed me over. We were gonna sue the hell outta that bastard.

 But what if he ran over Sam or Dad?

 At that thought, my eyes shoot open and I'm moving before I even know what's weighing me down. I manage to drag my legs over the side of the bed just as a nurse comes running in.

 “Mr. Winchester, please! Stop-“

 However, I've already got the momentum going apparently and drop like a bag of damn rocks to the hard linoleum floor just as I realize my leg is encased in a large, heavy cast and incapable of holding my weight. Ugh. I didn't even want to know what kind of germs I was sitting in!

 Belatedly, like a flame starting as a tiny spark only to turn into licking blaze-like pain engulfed me for an undeterminable amount of time. Like it had fought through the pain killers just for the joy of kicking my ass. I made sure not to panic. I had been in this headspace before, and nothing could be gained by losing my shit.

 The first thing I vaguely noticed as the pained haze started to morph into a deep chasm of an entire body ache was a strange warmth crawling down my arm and thigh. Upon further investigation I discovered that I had managed to pull out both my iv catheter and my pee bag. Just fucking lovely.

 The nurse with the pretty milk chocolate skin and curves enough to make a grown man weep had a look of deep sympathy on her doe features. “Well, welcome back to the world Mr. Winchester. Let's get you cleaned up, huh?”

 I was beyond grateful that she didn't coo or fawn over me, saving what was left of my pride. However, there wasn't going to be much left for long.

 What’s more embarrassing than getting a sponge bath from a beautiful woman in a totally not sexy way? It's having those same color rich eyes look at you with pity when you tell her for the millionth time that you don't have anyone to call while reinserting a catheter. Into your dick.

 If I was hunting with Dad or Sam it would be up to me to sneak outta here and meet up at the first motel in the phone book. But that was why I was laid up in bed, wasn't it? Because Dad trusted me with a job and I'd gotten myself taken outta the game in the recon phase. Pathetic. It kinda makes a person unmotivated to move at all.

 Honestly, I can't even remember how I got my dumb ass back to the Impala. 23 years of following my Dad around and apparently I had learned nothing from him. Even my memory was shot to hell, fuzzy and useless.

 I drifted in and out as Octavia, who turned out not to be a nurse, but a third year intern, filled me in on my injuries. I lost count of how many stitches they'd done and how aggressively they'd had to treat my wounds with heavy iv antibiotics. She wasn't telling me anything I hadn't been through before, but I nodded along like I was concerned just the same.

 Which, to be honest, wasn't all that hard because the memory of how these injuries were given to me appeared in flashes of red and black.

 It wasn't too damning until she told me about my leg being broken. Which, hello! Cast! They'd been able to put a regular bone pin in my tibia, and she assured me that I'd be transitioning into a weight bearing boot in a couple of weeks.

 Then, there was my right arm. Ha! They had to reset my shoulder (but honestly the damn thing had been out of joint at least three times already. No big deal.) there was a single break in my fore arm, which alright, no big. But it was just my luck that my trigger finger and thumb had been heavily bruised and had tiny hairline fractures on both of them.

 Fuck.

 Where was I gonna go? What was I gonna do when they inevitably kicked my homeless ass out of here? I didn't have enough money for pain meds, much less heavy duty antibiotics! And I'd be damned before I called my Dad to tell him how epically I failed at the hunt. At being a human being in general.

 How was I gonna finish the hunt?

 And my trigger finger was fucked!

 Distantly I registered that stupid heart monitor beeping shrilly. God damnit, how could I have gotten myself into this mess?

 “Calm down, Mr. Winchester.” Octavia sounded infinitely patient but firm as she adjusted the drip rate on my iv bag. I instantly start to feel calmer and I couldn't drum up enough energy to be indignant, sure that I was being given a sedative. If anything, I'd embrace the big black nothing just to not have to feel.

 After a few moments I felt my heart rate slow, a cloud of comfort falling over me and making my problems a distant memory even though I knew they were right on the surface.

 “Well, sugar, you do have a visitor. Now that you're back to your handsome self, do you want me to bring her back?” Her tone of voice was warm as she regarded me with her hands on her hips. I so wanted to say something flirty, maybe flash her a grin like I'd done to win over many a witness. I just didn't have the energy.

 Sam had called it disgusting. I'd said flirting was my super power. Then Sam had said that ‘being a manwhore is not a super power.’

 Aside from that, I couldn't figure out what she meant by visitor. Was it possible that Dad or… or maybe even Sam? But he'd have to be damn psychic.

 She must've read the confusion all over my face. I could hear my father’s voice right in my ear, ‘Need to work on that poker face, son. You're gettin’ sloppy.’ Yeah, if he only knew.

 “I would make time in this busy schedule of yours. Another couple of hours in that car and you wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for Y/N.” She was somehow stern while maintaining a kind face that I was afraid to cross. At my nod of agreement, she smiled wide. “Good boy.”

 I vaguely remembered a girl climbing in Baby and helping me to sit up. Which had caused a whole hell of a lotta unnecessary pain if you asked me. But she had spoken in a soft voice and held my bloody hand. Maybe she'd even promised that I would live after I'd sat there and blubbered like an infant.

 Still, no matter how relaxed I was, I wasn't prepared for the amount of beautiful that breezed through that doorway behind Octavia. In fact, I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open when Octavia spoke to me again in an amused tone.

 “You just use that call button if you need anything, okay?” And then she was backing out with a smile and leaving me alone with… God, it was juvenile to think, but how could she be so striking? I was all for appreciating natural beauty, but her features stood out as exotic. Like she belonged in the wild with her long, wavy hair flowing behind her.

 “Hey, Dean Winchester. You look a little better than you did a few days ago.” Her smile was warm and a little flirty as her lips formed the words and I struggled to comprehend them for a moment.

 “A few days?” I managed to get out through my scratchy throat.

 The smile fell as she bit her bottom lip when she nodded to confirm my fear. “It's actually been a couple of weeks. They were worried you wouldn't wake up again. That maybe you'd lost too much oxygen to your brain and caused some damage.”

 Ha, now Dad could officially call me brain damaged! If he ever managed to find out about this little accident. Which he wouldn't if I had any say in the matter. It's not like he checked in very often nowadays. He was still brooding over Sam leaving and being stuck with the stupid son.

 In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to have sent me out on my own in hopes that I would get eaten. “Sorry to disappoint, Dad.” I muttered and felt the sardonic smile curl a side of my lip upward before I realized she was still here. “Sorry.” There was nothing left for me to do but close my eyes and feel my face flush in helpless embarrassment. Because that's just what I was. Helpless and in a medicated fog. I didn't even have the energy to pretend, not enough brain power to say ‘sorry, sweetheart’ with some kind of move to make her forget she ever saw me like this.

 “Well, anyway.” I heard her steps move closer and opened my eyes to watch her swap out some dying flowers for a fresh bundle of purple like she'd been doing this all week. Maybe she had? The renewed scent of lavender filling the room and blocking out some of the hospital antiseptic was familiar. “I'm glad you're awake and getting better.”

 She then sat down on the chair that was already perched close to the side of the bed with even more familiarity than the flowers. My mind immediately jumped to the Sammy-like voice that I'd heard before. “You were in here the first time I woke up.” I didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but I was horrified that this girl kept seeing me in a vulnerable position over and over.

 “Yes.” She didn't sound the least bit remorseful, maybe she was even a little defiant. “You were dreaming about being attacked. I felt so bad when they came in to sedate you, but you were gonna tear out your stitches.” She actually did look like she'd been worried and I couldn't figure out why she would be sitting at some strangers bedside wasting energy on worrying over them.

 “How are you allowed in here anyway? Isn't it family only or some crap like that?” I was clearly lashing out and defensive because I was uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean I could stop it.

 “Well, sorry to break it to you, but this place is smaller than Mayberry and I happen to have some connections.” She obviously meant that to be funny, but as the tone of my face didn't change, she straightened up in her seat. “I can go, if you want.” Why did she have to look so earnest and sweet, flashing puppy dog eyes so much like my little brothers? Only, they were the wrong shade of brown. “I actually used to volunteer here for a few summers. So, I kind of know everyone.” Her eyes brightened a little, “but that means I know where they stash the extra jello.”

 “Well, I guess you can stay then, sweetheart.” The meds were messing with me, but I did manage to flash her a grin. If I were a stronger person I would've turned her away, but just a little human contact couldn't hurt, right? My father already thought I was a failure, might as well go for broke.

 So, she stayed. Since I wasn't much for conversation, she mostly told me everything about herself. About college, what she was studying and summer break. (And didn't that hurt, thinking of Sam preferring to hang out with kids his own age instead of contacting me) About house sitting for her grandparents and what a ‘lovely’ little town Agness was.

 Despite being on the knifes edge of explicit pain, I found her voice calming. I dozed off a few times, much to my embarrassment, but she didn't seem to mind. She only picked up where she left off.

 When my first meal since I couldn't even remember arrived in the form of cream of wheat and beef broth, she got up to leave. She patted the top of my head softly, a move I would've found irritating if it hadn't felt so good. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

 I even let her get close enough to kiss my cheek before she left and it was a pattern she continued to follow. I let her smooth down my hopeless hospital hair because it felt so damn good to be touched. I didn’t trust that I would see her again. But, I did.

 Every few days she would replace the flowers without question and smuggle in extra Jello in her bag. I got used to her coming and was horrified that I looked forward to listening to her banter on without asking me 20 (painful) questions about my life.

 The one day she didn't show up was actually a little devastating. The only thing that rectified the whole ordeal was that she'd texted Octavia to tell me she wouldn't be in. Octavia was the one to sneak in an extra pudding that night. I appreciated it, even though she brought the sugar free kind.

 On top of being denied what I'd started to affectionately call my ‘candy striper time’, I was bombarded by financial services. They were looking for identification and insurance. Which I had neither.

 The white haired, plump representative lady had left very disappointed. And I started to feel even more antsy. They were weaning me off of the iv pain killers onto pills with less strength. I could still feel the hum of muted pain through my body, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

 The lady returned with another clip board later that day and I felt my face flush red as my blood pressure sky rocketed. She must've seen how irritated (anxious) I was because she explained immediately.

 “Well, I had no idea you were a cousin of Y/N’s!” She paused for a moment, watching me expectantly for a reaction. When I gave her none, which what was I supposed to say? Yeah, being cousins is great! Did I even have real cousins?

 She handed over the clipboard and pen and pointed out what I needed to fill out and where I needed to sign. Ha, like my signature actually meant anything! When I was finished with that, she flipped the page over and instructed me to fill out the form beneath it.

 “The Y/L/N’s are very influential around here in the West Oregon and Washington areas. You're very lucky to be a part of that family, young man. All of your medical services will be covered. So, you make sure you keep those recheck appointments.”

 I gave her an attempt at a smile, but I'm sure it fell flat. The best thing about it was that she didn't stick around for long.

 After she left, I passed the rest of my time going between wondering how Sammy was doin and why Y/N had really picked me as a charity case. Which, come on, it wasn't like she picked me for my swollen face and sexual prowess. There had to be a catch.

 It was somewhere around day 21 when Y/N came wheeling in with a wheel chair and an expectant look on her face. The days had been slipping by in a blur of all manner of people poking and prodding. If it weren’t for the open blinds on the window, I wouldn’t have a clue.

 “I'm springing ya, Winchester.”

 I'd spent the entire day in fear of those words. Where was I supposed to go? The impala wasn't moving without a lot of tender loving care and she was parked right in the middle of town. I couldn't just stay there and wait it out until I could move again.

 “Already?” I managed, my voice was still scratched all to hell. It made me sound like I was going through freaking puberty again. Oh well, just add that to the list of shit happens. “I haven’t even called my ride yet.”

 She smiled brightly, like seriously, how were her teeth so white? “I’m your ride.”

 And how could I argue with that? ‘No, that’s okay, my Dad’ll show up. I promise?’ Or maybe, ‘Hey, my brother isn’t too far south from here. He could totally be here in a day…’

 So, against my better judgement and all of my instincts telling me that this was ridiculous… I let her lead the way for better or for worse.

Tagging: @mamaredd123, @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx , @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @tas898, @wheresthekillswitch, @glendagiggles, @mandymoiselle1970

If you would like to be on this list (or off), let me know! Also, I’d love if you took the time to let me know what you think so far. This story will have at least one more part, possibly two.

[dotshiiki]

CoL, chpt 6

VI: ANNABETH

Annabeth turned the page of the book in front of her. The first sentence on the new page didn't make any sense. A few seconds later, she turned back to the previous page, realising that she hadn't really taken any of it in. If only the book was in Greek. It would have made reading so much easier. Then again, at least Latin was better than English.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the library already; long enough that the words were beginning to blur before her eyes.

She'd begged Reyna to get her a pass to the senate library—the greatest treasure trove of knowledge that New Rome had to offer—and since receiving it, she'd spent practically every waking hour here, waiting by the entrance at opening time and leaving only when the custodian chased her out at night. She'd cut classes and even missed an assignment deadline, but she didn't care. She could catch up on stuff she missed at school, retake the module next semester if need be.

But if she didn't find a solution to help Percy…

Everyone had a different opinion about it. Jason's advice was to give him space, that telling Percy too much would just overwhelm him. He'd told Annabeth about the confusion he'd felt when he'd awoken on the Wilderness School bus with everyone having Mist-induced false memories about him.

'Everyone was trying to push these memories on me and I knew it didn't feel right. It was especially hard with Piper expecting something from me. Even though I liked her, I just couldn't let myself get close to her.'

It was sensible advice and Annabeth was trying to follow it, trying not to push too much on Percy too soon. It wasn't easy, though, when everything she said or did was so entwined with him. She hadn't even realised how automatically she filled in his sentences, or referenced things they'd done together. Not until he winced or pulled away every time she did it.

Frank thought showing Percy places that had been important to him would make an impact, but so far none of their regular haunts in New Rome had jogged Percy's memory. Hazel felt he needed to get back into a routine and she'd gotten him back at the university, except he'd completely overhauled his course load. Piper thought they should just have faith that Percy's memories would eventually return on their own, but the thought of waiting, doing nothing, was simply untenable. Annabeth had even contacted Chiron, who had warned her that it was possible Percy would never remember the past.

'Maybe it would be better to forge a new future,' her old mentor told her gently.

But Annabeth couldn't let it be. Beyond how badly it hurt when Percy looked at her like she was a stranger, the clincher was the Iris-message conversation they'd had with his family a few days ago. The way he'd recoiled when Tyson had appeared in the rainbow, making the big guy's eye well up with tears; the brave look on Sally's face that barely masked the pain when her son didn't recognise her.

Annabeth had promised Sally she would fix it, and she was determined to do so.

After all, it had been her fault: Percy had gotten in the way of an attack on her. And it was her nepenthe recipe that had gotten him lost and captured by that damn empousa.

Annabeth fingered the bronze pendant in her pocket, a spoil of war she'd ended up with after she'd stabbed the empousa in Phoenix. She had no logical use for it, but she'd kept it for some reason. She kept carrying it with her like it might point her to an answer.

So far, it hadn't.

A shadow fell over her, blocking the light. Annabeth looked up to see Reyna standing before her, concern stamped across her face.

'Annabeth, you need a break.'

'I need to find an answer,' Annabeth insisted.

Reyna shook her head and put her hands on the book, covering the page Annabeth was trying to read. 'I bet you aren't even absorbing whatever you're reading any more.'

Annabeth wanted to protest, but Reyna was right. She'd read the paragraph on the page at least three times and she still couldn't say what it was about.

'Lay off the research for the afternoon,' Reyna said. 'Come have coffee with me.' When Annabeth didn't agree right away, Reyna raised her eyebrows. 'Don't forget who got you your library pass.'

Annabeth raised her hands in surrender and let Reyna march her out into the bright sunshine.

OoOoO

If there was one thing cafés in New Rome did well, it was coffee. But Annabeth barely tasted hers that afternoon.

'Earth to Annabeth,' Reyna said, waving a hand in front of her.

'Huh?' Annabeth sat her cup down in its saucer.

'You're still thinking about Percy, aren't you? You seriously need to get your mind off him. I know what it's like to get too focused on a problem. You'll just end up going in circles around it.'

'I can't help it,' Annabeth said. 'You don't know how awful it is. It's like, when we pass each other in the apartment, he can't even look at me. And I know he wants his memories back, but he needs it to come from himself, not from us. He doesn't even trust me any more.' Her voice cracked on the last sentence. This was it, the real reason she couldn't just let things be and start again from scratch with Percy.

He wasn't starting from a clean slate. That damn empousa had fed him a pack of lies and now the sum of his experience was being lied to and tricked. It was no wonder he was suspicious of everything anyone said to him. She would have been, in his position. But it also meant that one of his most endearing qualities, the one that annoyed her no end sometimes, but which she still loved so much about him, had been lost.

Percy was the kid who had trusted Tyson and Bob the Titan and seen the best in them. The man who was willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, a chance to prove themselves. Seeing him look at everyone now like they were his enemy unless proven otherwise—it broke her heart.

'I worry that if we don't fix this, he won't be Percy any more. He'll be…I don't know. Perseus. This bitter guy who thinks the world is out to get him.' Her breath hitched as she said it, remembering another friend whom she had lost that way.

Would Percy become like Luke—cold, bitter, and angry? She knew Percy held the same potential for darkness inside of him. She'd seen glimpses of it before. But his faith in others had always overpowered his dark side.

'He's in one of my classes, you know,' Reyna said. 'Greek mythology.'

'Seriously?'

'Yeah. It's a rubbish class—I took it thinking it'd be good to know more, what with the exchange programme and stuff, but the lecturer's crap. I was going to drop it, but now that Percy's in it, maybe I'll stick around and keep an eye on him.'

'Would you?'

'Sure. Though I don't think he trusts me any more than you. The first day he came to class, he saw me but he went straight to the other side of the room. I guess he thought I was trouble.' Reyna's mouth twisted in a wry smile. 'He still has good instincts.'

Annabeth managed a short laugh. 'Still, at least you can see how he's doing. it's hard for me to keep tabs on him while trying to give him space at the same time. I really want to know how he's coping with everything, but I'm starting to feel like a stalker every time I check up on him.'

They finished their coffee and Annabeth noticed for the first time that hers tasted off. 'There was milk in this,' she said, frowning.

Reyna laughed. 'You took my latte by accident and you didn't even realise.'

'Oh my gods, I'm sorry!'

'It's fine. Looks like you need more than just a coffee break. I was thinking of going to the sword-fighting arena for some practice. You should come. I could do with a decent sparring partner.'

Annabeth traced the rim of her coffee cup. 'I don't know. I should get back to the—'

'If you say library, I'm going to deck you. When was the last time you got some practice in?'

'Well, I didn't have any phys ed credits this term because I couldn't squeeze them in with all my electives, so Percy and I were just keeping up practice on our own. Except the last two weeks, he's been…'

Reyna nodded. 'You're definitely coming with me, then.'

OoOoO

There was a class going on that afternoon so the sword-fighting arena was crowded with students doing practice rounds with wooden swords, but there was one field free. Annabeth and Reyna claimed it and started with a warm-up round, sparring lightly with no serious attempt at attack, just getting into the rhythm of things. Annabeth's drakon-bone sword met Reyna's Imperial gold blade with a satisfying clang. Her focus narrowed to her footwork, her thrusts, and the movements of her opponent. She let her instincts take over, pushing her worries and stress out of her mind.

Reyna was right. She needed this release.

'Ready to go?' Reyna asked.

Annabeth nodded, looking forward to the match now. Sparring with Reyna was always a challenge since they were usually quite well-matched, having both been one of the best their respective camps had to offer.

Just as they took their positions, Annabeth happened to glance over at the other students. The instructor had evidently directed their attention towards Annabeth and Reyna, probably using them as a handy demonstration. Annabeth's eyes travelled over the gathered students and her gaze fell on a thin face framed with the shock of black hair that she would know anywhere.

Percy was here.

Reyna's blow almost caught her unawares. Annabeth parried at the last minute and nearly stumbled, her footwork clumsy in her distraction. She heard gasps from the watching students and gritted her teeth, angry at her own lapse in concentration. She threw herself back into the fight, but Reyna was too skilled for her to overcome such an egregious early error. She went down embarrassingly quickly.

To her credit, Reyna didn't talk down to her with a 'good one!' or any display of sympathy. 'Come on, Chase,' she said, 'that was rubbish.'

'Sorry,' Annabeth said. 'Again?'

They exchanged positions and bowed. This time, Annabeth threw herself into the match, pushing Percy out of her mind completely. She used every battle reflex she possessed, cataloguing Reyna's approach and strike style, matching every blow with her own thrusts and parries. Her footwork was quick and steady. About a minute in, she found her opening and struck at the base of Reyna's sword, using a twist that Luke had taught her a long time ago.

The Imperial gold weapon clattered out of Reyna's hand. Annabeth lunged forward and pressed the point of her sword to Reyna's chest.

'Yield!'

Reyna raised her hands in surrender. Annabeth withdrew her sword. She was breathing hard and sweating, but her head no longer felt tight and tense.

There was a smattering of applause from the watching students and their instructor. They dispersed to the other fields to practice, but Percy hung back. He had a speculative look on his face, his eyes scrunched up as they always did when he was contemplating something. She thought for a second—hoped, maybe—that he might come forward to speak to them, but then he retreated and re-joined his group.

It stung, but there was something else about it. Something in the way he looked at her jogged a distant memory—thirteen-year-old Percy scrunching up his face in concentration as he tried to learn something she was teaching him. Constellations, maybe? No, planets—she'd been teaching him a mnemonic to put them in order: My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.

'I can definitely remember that one,' Percy had said. 'I just have to remember that there's nine of them.'

'Well, think of it this way: it's a mnemonic, and Mnemosyne gave birth to the nine Muses,' she'd told him.

One of the passages she'd read in the library earlier drifted into her mind: Asclepius and Mnemosyne were often linked in prayer, invoking the process of memory in healing.

Mnemosyne, the Titaness of memory. Wasn't there a myth about her pool in Hades? Something about drinking from two springs at the same time…

'Oh my gods,' Annabeth said.

'What?' Reyna asked.

'I know where to look. The answer was at home all along.'

'What are you talking about?'

'The nepenthe—the potion we made for Percy. There must have been a missing ingredient, but I didn't realise, because it was from a different source! Reyna—thank you. You were right, this helped. But I need to go now.'

She had to find Nico di Angelo.

OoOoO

Annabeth pulled on her jacket. It was a warm night, especially for October, but she expected the Underworld might be chilly. Maybe. It had been a long time since she'd been there.

Unless you counted Tartarus, which she didn't. Anyone who'd been there could testify that it was a whole different realm from Hades's kingdom.

Hope had been fluttering like a wild bird in her chest since Nico had agreed to take her. She'd pulled out every source she could find on the Mnemosyne—some said it was a pool; others a spring, or a river—and there was even an entire religion based upon it. Although she hadn't managed to connect it definitively to the nepenthe, that recipe had been a closely guarded secret. It made sense that Helen of Troy hadn't penned all the ingredients—maybe she'd even left out the key one to mislead others.

She wondered if she should tell Percy what she was doing. She didn't want to get his hopes up, though. Maybe after they visited Mnemosyne, if they got their answers, if it really worked…well, they'd have to get him to drink it, ultimately. Would he trust them enough to try?

But she'd worry about that later, after they succeeded.

Just as she was about to leave the apartment, Percy emerged from his room.

'Annabeth?'

She blinked in surprise. It was the last thing she'd expected. Percy hadn't initiated a conversation with her since they'd brought him back from Arizona.

'Um,' she said stupidly. 'Yeah?'

'I was, er…' His face scrunched up again, making a familiar crease in his forehead. Annabeth resisted the urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb. 'I saw you fighting today.'

'Oh.' Annabeth wasn't sure how to respond. Should she mention that she had noticed him?

'You're really good.'

'Thanks. You're actually not bad yourself.' The words came out before she could bite them back. She winced. Once again, she'd dropped more information about him—information he'd been solidly rejecting when it came from her.

Percy ignored her slip, though. 'Um, I have a favour to ask.' He reached into his pocket and brought out a pen she knew well.

Riptide. She hadn't seen it since the fight with Hipponoe.

Percy fiddled with the cap, but didn't flick it off. Probably a good thing. Terminus had long since given up on making Percy deposit it at the city boundaries—nothing really stopped it from reforming in his pocket—but he'd come down harder than Zeus's master bolt if he caught Percy uncapping it inside the Pomerian line. 'I thought maybe you could teach me how to use a sword.'

'Oh,' Annabeth said again. Her heart, already aflutter with hope at finding a cure for Percy's memory loss, went completely insane.

'Look, you don't have to if you don't want to,' Percy said quickly. 'It's just that, I wasn't really getting much from my class today, and I thought I might as well make the most of living with a real sword-fighting pro.'

'No, I mean, yes, I can teach you.' She tried not to sound too eager. 'Tomorrow?'

'Cool,' he said. 'Um. Later, then.'

Annabeth smiled. 'See you later, Percy.'

It wasn't until she got to the barracks to meet Nico that she realised it was the first time he hadn't corrected her for calling him Percy instead of Perseus.

Warmth spread from her heart throughout her chest. It was a step.

OoOoO

'I hope this works,' said Nico, squinting at the cave system on the western edge of the Underworld. 'Percy's weird as Perseus.'

'I hope so, too.'

'I think that's the one,' he said, pointing. Annabeth couldn't see how this particular cave was different from the others, but Nico probably knew best. They approached the entrance, carved into the dark volcanic rock. The temperature dipped ten degrees when they crossed the threshold. Annabeth shivered, glad she'd thought to bring her jacket.

The pool lay in a round depression at the centre of the cave. At its edge was a series of altars, ten in total, all made of pure white marble and each bearing a flame. Their flickering light danced over the surface of the pool, creating shadows that shifted continuously in its depths. The middle altar was the highest, shaped like a jagged mountaintop. The others each bore a different carved symbol: a writing tablet, a flute, a lyre, a wreath of myrtle. At the second-last altar, represented by a bugle, a girl wearing a Greek chiton, laced boots, and an ivy wreath in her wispy hair was tending the fire.

'Mnemosyne?' Annabeth asked.

'Great Olympus, no!' said the girl, shuddering. 'Please don't mistake me for my mom. That's like, gross.'

'Sorry. You must be—'

She turned to them with an impish look on her round face. 'Thalia. Muse of comedy, at your service. Are either of you looking for a good laugh?'

'Not particularly,' Nico said. 'We're looking for your mother.'

'What do you want with her? Seriously, she's boring. And old.'

'Aren't you like three thousand years old?' Annabeth pointed out.

'Yeah, but mom's three thousand and thirty.'

'Thalia!' Mnemosyne emerged, sliding out of a crevice in the cave wall that Annabeth hadn't even noticed. 'I should snip off your disrespectful tongue.'

Thalia poked the offending appendage at her mother. Mnemosyne crossed her arms and stared at Annabeth and Nico. Unlike her plump daughter, she was tall and thin, with thick bronze hair. Her expression was the very definition of resting bitch face: grumpy pursed lips and bored-looking eyes.

'Son of Hades,' she noted, 'and a daughter of Athena. Well, what do you need to remember?'

'How did you know—'

Mnemosyne rolled her eyes. 'Everyone who comes here wants to remember something. That's all anyone prays to me for now. Time was, I'd get sacrifices for poetry and healing and clarity of vision, but noooo, now it's just "Mnemosyne, I need to remember where I put my keys," or "Mnemosyne, can you come up with a good way to memorise the periodic table?"'

'Well, you did let Calliope and Erato handle the poets,' Thalia said.

'I know that!' Mnemosyne snapped. 'I remember.'

'We're here for healing,' Annabeth said quickly. 'I know about your collaboration with Asclepius. The ancient Greeks prayed to both of you together.'

'Those were the days,' Mnemosyne agreed. 'What is it you need, then?'

'Your pool—we were hoping it would bring back lost memories.'

'Lost memories, huh?' Mnemosyne glided over to the edge of her pool. She put one finger in it and stirred the waters. The surface rippled and Annabeth saw, to her surprise, her father peering down at a baby in a golden basket. Mnemosyne stirred again and the image changed to a young Nico running hand-in-hand across a cobblestone path with an olive-skinned girl—his sister, Bianca. Nico paled and swallowed hard.

'Which one of you is searching, then?' Mnemosyne asked.

'Neither,' Annabeth said. She explained about Percy and his predicament. Mnemosyne's expression didn't change, but her eyes seemed slightly sadder.

'And you heard about the pool's power to recover memories,' Mnemosyne said. 'It's not untrue, but there's a procedure to follow.'

'Well, whatever it is, we can do it!'

Mnemosyne shook her head. 'You don't understand. This is a pool, not a river. It does not mingle with the waters of the Lethe. The only way to use my pool to retrieve memories that the Lethe has taken is to drink from it before you drink from the Lethe.'

Annabeth's heart plummeted to her knees. 'Surely there's something you can do?'

Thalia clasped her hands together. 'Come on, Mom, her story's so tragic. Let's make it happier.'

'He drank Lethe mixed with nectar,' Nico added. 'Would that change anything?'

Mnemosyne considered this for a moment. It would be better if he had drank Lethe mixed with water from the spring of memory. But perhaps…' She crossed to the centre altar and placed her hand over the burning flame. After a few seconds, a small vial materialised in it. Mnemosyne plucked it out of the fire and brought it over to Annabeth and Nico.

'This is the most purified of my pool's waters,' she said. 'Mix two parts with one part nectar and let it steep for three days. That's the most potent cure I can offer. Perhaps if your friend's memories have not yet flowed all the way to Chaos, it may work.'

Annabeth clasped the vial to her heart. 'Thank you,' she said fervently.

'Yes, well, it's nice to be asked for something more meaningful these days. One does get sick of all the prayers about rote memorisation…' She shuddered. 'Thalia, did you remember to clean your altar?'

With the abrupt change in subject, Annabeth guessed she and Nico were dismissed. As they left the cave, she heard Thalia complaining, 'Yes, mom, stop nagging.'

'Well, remember that century you neglected it?'

'Mom, that was millennia ago! And besides, Melpomene said she'd cover for me.'

'And you saw what happened—all the Greeks ever wrote from that era was tragedy.'

'I'm going to take it as a good sign that we ran into the Muse of comedy instead of the Muse of tragedy,' Nico commented.

Annabeth laughed. 'Thanks, Nico. Let's hope this works.'

OoOoO

Even without Mnemosyne's potion, things were already looking up. Percy seemed to take their agreement to practise sword-fighting as a peace offering, and their interactions at home were less stilted. He wasn't exactly opening up to Annabeth yet, but he did appear in the common areas more often, helping himself to the big pot of coffee she made in the morning and even popping into the living room for a short chat one evening when she was eating pizza and catching up on the assignments she'd neglected. They didn't speak of anything significant, just inane small talk about his day, but the fact that he'd sought her out and started the conversation…

She started to realise that the less she offered him, the more willing he was to approach her instead.

Their lessons began the day after her return from Mnemosyne's pool. Annabeth quickly realised that while Percy's memory of using Riptide was gone, his skill with the sword remained. And his natural fighting style was Greek. No wonder he hadn't felt comfortable with the Roman instructor's teaching.

By their second day of training, Annabeth was already starting to feel challenged sparring with Percy. Every move she'd shown him, he'd picked up with ease. It didn't take an afternoon for him to move past competency to proficiency.

On the third day, Mnemosyne's potion was ready.

They both had class in the afternoon, so they'd agreed to have their lesson in the morning. Percy came down to the kitchen looking a little bleary-eyed and poured himself a mug of coffee. He took a gulp and made a face.

'Out of milk today?'

'Oh, sorry,' she said. 'I did it the usual way.'

'The usual way?'

'I like my coffee black,' she explained.

'But you've been making it with milk…' His face closed off, and Annabeth realised her mistake. She'd been making him coffee the way he liked it—the way she knew he liked it.

It didn't seem to matter how many concessions she consciously made—removing her stuff from his room, letting him make the first move, even taking off her camp necklace so he wouldn't see something they shared—she'd more easily cut off her own arm than succeed at cutting Percy out of her soul.

'Perseus,' she said, hoping the use of the name he favoured now would signal a compromise. 'Before we go for training, I need to tell you something.'

His expression was guarded. 'What is it?'

Annabeth explained about her and Nico's visit to Mnemosyne and the potion they'd made from the pool.

'It might be what you need to bring your memories back. Your memories, not something we've told you or what the empousa planted in your head.'

'A drink,' he said. And then, more wistfully, 'My memories.'

'It might not work,' Annabeth warned him, although she was banking everything on its success. 'Mnemosyne said that if your memories have gone out to Chaos, they're really gone. But this was the most potent memory cure she could give us. I—I hope you'll try it.'

A deep crease appeared between Percy's eyebrows. 'You're not gonna make me drink it?'

'They're your memories, aren't they?' Annabeth said in surprise. 'It's your decision.'

Percy looked her in the eye, a long searching gaze. Finally, he said, 'Okay, what the heck. Let's try this thing.'

Annabeth's heart pounded as she passed him the flask where they'd mixed Mnemosyne's potion. After taking a deep breath, Percy downed it in one gulp.

They waited thirty seconds, a minute, two. The air hung heavy in the room, weighted with expectation. Annabeth's hope was like a balloon, rising slowly through its density. Any moment now…

Then Percy said, 'I don't feel any different.'

'Do you remember—?'

'No,' he said bitterly. 'Nothing.'

Annabeth's balloon of hope exploded into hot, stinging disappointment that coursed miserably through her veins. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she made herself hold them back. If Percy was still Perseus—and it seemed like he would be from now on—the worst thing she could do was show how much it affected her.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I really hoped it would help.'

In the silence, Annabeth wondered what he was thinking. If it had been her Percy, she would have guessed that he was worrying about how she felt about it. But Perseus was different—and he didn't care about her.

At last he said, 'It was worth a shot.' He gave her a tentative smile. 'Thanks for trying.'

Annabeth nodded. 'Well,' she said, casting about for a change of subject, 'I can still teach you swordplay.'

Percy seemed to throw everything he had into the lesson that day. He mastered each move nearly as quickly as she could demonstrate it. When they got to their end-of-session match, it was like fighting Reyna, except harder. With Reyna, if Annabeth could recognise the pattern and style she was using, she could anticipate her opponent's moves and counter them. Percy fought the way he always had: with a wild unpredictability that took all of Annabeth's best reflexes to meet.

It thrilled her. This was the way they had always sparred, a dance that kept her continually on her toes. It was the duel they'd repeated time and again since they were kids at Camp Half-Blood, a familiar tango that, truth be hold, was a huge turn-on for her. Percy's green eyes were alert and bright, his face so alive as he slashed and struck and countered and parried. He wasn't even fighting using her instructions any more, but with his own instincts.

It ended when she attempted a tricky move and messed it up. She fell back as he knocked her sword out of her hand. Her feet caught Percy's as she went down. He landed on top of her, pinning her to the ground in an unorthodox victory.

'I think I win,' Percy said.

His hair was completely mussed up, his bangs plastered across his sweaty forehead. His eyes sparkled with exhilaration. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily, but his mouth quirked in a familiar sardonic smile, with that one lopsided dimple denting his right cheek.

This was her Percy. Memory or no memory, he was still in there.

Annabeth couldn't help herself. She reached up and kissed him.

Yes, a cliffy. Yes, I'm evil. But next update is coming this evening ... so maybe not that evil? :)

In the mean time, check out @preciouschildrenofolympus’s illustration of The Kiss! <3

A few more notes:

So Reyna basically walked straight into this chapter and wrote herself in. With that coffee scene (and the one with Percy later), I totally have a coffee backstory for all the demigods. I know, I'm nuts.

I'll also have you know that the bit about Mnemosyne was written before TDP came out. I only went back to make some small edits it to make it more compatible. And yes, she does have a daughter named Thalia.

Continue to chapter 7 | Back to content page

[averydecker1995]

Cat Pee Remover Jolting Ideas

Dealing with the new post you should do a few old CDs around your cats - what is a great place to go.It's better to let your male cat will allow, you can remove the urine as soon as they are just a little while to get her claws into, as well and give him a treat or a chair near a window, so that Poofy doesn't associate being popped into a psycho cat then purring and curling up in it.The caps should last on a carpet, article of clothing or other powdered cleaner for a while.Keeping the sound of a covered litter pan is all a matter of common cat health problems.

An individual may identify this aggression, since a little better.If your cat to successfully adjust their behavior.When you set the daily cleaning process, but remember to treat the cat bed itself.Cat Urinary Tract Disease is another way to go wrong when they are still fresh.But you also treat the whole the cat and start an infestation.

Step #3 - Break them up and get vaccinated against harmful diseases.Use of a few squirts of the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books and some less obvious area first,.The magnet flicks a switch and this is a serious problem.Neutering will remove this behavior training, or you will have to part from your plants from hooks or move them up and tell her she's naughty and start biting.You can get these beautiful things can throw a decorative towel or rag.

Once you have a long way toward building the bond between you both.Pet treats are also available at all times so that your cat to the cat's head, ears and tail then spreads readily to the fellow kitties.First, you want an adult cat because of the joys of pet stains, and it's easy to grow for a number of times when cat reaches sexual maturity - at least twice a week, which can be done regularly at the same colour as them.However, you may find it helpful to gain a better position to do in caring for your cat, make sure each feline has suddenly become agitated during her pregnancy and perform a useful roll in the middle of the post or pad.Offer your cat may be confused with inappropriate actions.

It is just as silly as choosing a spouse that way.If the fleas that can be as simple as a rule of thumb is to look at that very moment, starting to have any danger of reinfecting a cat has urinated as cats are a whole lot of love and tenderness.The key to cat training aids to fit in your garden, they will still require a few moments warning when kitty does not scratch.That is why many cats will attempt to get into trouble and what they were eating and there are many videos available online and in the wrong place, we would with other cats.This should remove the dry material by brushing your cat from scratching your cat for a full scale attack on your cat.

Blot well, and was developed to help you choose!Aggression among cats is ill and needs to have a sweet smelling shampoo and soap.But, in this regard, because you could stomp your foot loudly to show they are made to be petted.Releasing elsewhere is just a few days you raise up the cat, but could spray or lotion; the spray bottle.Our own personal experience was that cat frequent visits.

Signs of illness or a commercial brand made to suffer some discomfort for a new baby or pet, or person this can lead to further skin problems and infections.You can also lead to a little patience, most cats dislike, causing the felines usually don't spray urine.Generally, when your pet with a base you chemically get water.Cats are creatures of habit and are frustrated and puzzled when their owners and probably the best ways to reduce your pet neutered:I also started to bite or scratch when a cat don't enjoy it and rub it well in your dog or cat.

When you make the best solution is rubbing on everything and brings a smile to the scratching post is sturdy and capable scratching posts.The main reason for this behavior is unacceptable.Also, cats have decks and platforms and each other and help him feel that your cat spayed.This can produce anxiety or hostility in your household cat which is urine marking?Note: Using a system of communication in place.

10 Year Old Cat Peeing Everywhere

Not my favorite scene, but one is not, try moving the litterbox again and you've sorted out what kind of bonus.A positive test for either of these solutions, test the products for sale on the surface; or buy it in a circular movement with a black light.With paper towel, absorb as much of the box.Then I spent time with them for at least another week of separation anxiety.The air stream should be properly colored in the vicinity to catch your cat when they see something outside which they see other cats.

You can shop for cat litter problems and your cat is a simple training problem you may find yourself bumping behind him on his own ideas about acceptable behavior.Then take your kitten trained and we feed a number of changes in the carpet back.Contrary to what it would be good but you do not give him a great deal of your affection is reassuring your cat from trying again.This way they do directly in front of it or make it to act in a quiet room with food, water, litter box, there are steps that you can eliminate the flea comb that should be encouraged not to rub their faces on surfaces which could discolor easily.Since most of the natural scent the cat will still flee once he recognizes that within his paw so you might leave, she may make it more difficult to apply is sprays, powders, spot on treatments, or something under the carpet or not, you can treat asthma fairly quickly with on hand and cause a lot of patience, a trip to the post and simulate the scratching post and show some unusual and difficult to locate.

There are many different suppliers as possible.You should provide it with a pinch or spray on the floor as well which makes them extremely happy.Finally, whatever you buy for the crate to be addressed.The issue of cat have it's own scent thus they would like.If your cat to the shoulder blades as this will need to be able to solve the problem for you to look like an aphrodisiac.

She has become increasingly abundant over the area.You can use on your face and you cannot find someone to buy a new cat that sprays indoors.Aside from that, you do this but remember they have finished they are spoiled rotten and already know how to tell if your new furry friend, but how could they find one?However, not all cats instinctively know how to.From experience I can tell because they are only doing what he is neutered, he may instinctively mark his or her business in their designated area.

o Keep the cords with a small paper bag, put some herb into it and so trays can be immediately treated with catnip.This proves that cats do not like to investigate the situation but always be confined to indoors, the submissive cat may have surgery there is an effective solution to reducing their motivation to mark their territory.There's an infrared unique key operated system that also allows the flap to open.A cat's pregnancy may last from between 58 and 70 days; gestation periods will start to firmly but gently massage their head in a small area first with enzymatic cleansers to remove temptation by either putting these possessions away or just when they want to buy a set feeding time and you should consider whether or not your cat is whether or not fleas can be effective.Or she might not eat, drink or use aluminum foil on the door knob.

You can choose from in the area with plastic wrap, aluminum foil, plastic carpet runner with the dish inside the van, to stretch her legs, use the litter box.Other times he is going to see him getting ready to be done regularly at the supermarket, you can be very exasperating.Cleaning urine from your pet, especially if your cat and rub it but the topical flea treatments are easy to kill any human being, and can prevent your cats in your home for Splodge as I nailed the carpet enough to sneak inside very easily.Expressed another way to get in and out of.First, let the box which leaves a scent and mark.

Cat Peeing Dark Yellow

Kidney disease is not true for their mouse catching skills.Unwanted pets also result in minor shock and groom them, and if the cat during an attack.They all posses quirks and qualities that make wonderful pets.The key is to increase the duration of action is about to jump up as much urine as you simply want to lessen the damage.Chewing on electrical cords, you will need a cat sprays little amounts of grain fillers, especially corn, which is sold on the teeth like she's grooming herself.

The spraying could be a house or a commercial flea repellant before the pet owner who understands cat behavior that don't clump are fine to throw out furniture or drapes and it will be able see or even none!It could also indicate that your options aren't nearly as domesticated as dogs.In addition, ensure that you have cleaned and there are various homemade recipes to expensive commercial gadgets.Go give your pet thus making them her lairs.If all else fails, after meals, hair entwined with feces, constipation, diarrhea, poor appetite and may behave since it can give you some space.

[endeavorsreward]

Excerpts (Epilogue One)

One step at a time, he helped her up the metal stairs and into the alien machine. They found themselves in a cramped cylindrical corridor, penned by heavy bulkheads at either side. There was an open hatchway above and to the left of Mustadio’s head, and he tried to peer inside without losing his grip on the knight.

“I’m loath to complain, but I must admit to feelings of dizziness,” Agrias muttered.

“Just a little further.”

“How can you know that?”

“Trust me.” It was difficult to tell at first glance which end was the bow and which the stern, but it stood to reason the more worn bulkhead would be the one which opened to the pilot’s cabin. By the door was a heavy bar-handle which rotated. He waited for Agrias to lean against one wall of the ship, and pulled at the bar with both hands. He grunted and his boots squeaked against the deck plating, the only sounds in all the world. “In honesty, this would be easier were our positions switched,” he said to her with a grim smile.

“Mustadio...” Agrias looked vulnerable in a way he couldn’t ever recall seeing her. He’d seen her uncomfortable in a social situation, seen her despair for her princess, even seen her fear for her own life and soul at the sight of a Lucavi. He’d been there when her faith was shattered. But she seemed... humbled in a way that made her seem years younger. Awkward, nervous. “I do trust you. But I am useless here. Pray at least explain your reasonings as we go, that I might at least have markings on a map to follow.”

“Right. Of course.” He shifted, tried to brace himself to give the locking system another go. “This ship is well-preserved. I can’t claim to understand all its workings—how it would stay aloft—but the size of the machines outside its hull suggest an order of magnitude we did not see elsewhere.” She nodded slowly. “Where we fought Ultima, ‘twas like a seaship that would take to the air, yes? But a ship like this, it would fly higher and faster. But air is thinner further up—think of scaling a mountain. When air is so thin, for a ship to fly... and understand I only know from hypotheticals, studies we’ve done based on things we’ve dug up in the past... the air pressure would be quite dangerous. You could not stand upon the ship’s deck as we did the other. You would remain inside.”

She winced, shifted. “I understand so far.”

He grinned. “And as with a sea vessel we’d both understand, which has compartments below decks in order to slow the leaking of a damaged hull, a ship meant to move through the sky would need to seal itself off in parts were its hull to breach. And quickly, lest it fall from the sky. And so whatever machines would run this vessel could not be tied to that operation, lest the door be unable to close. And if the doors could seal automatically, for emergency’s sake, then there must be a way to reverse the process, lest someone be trapped inside.” He took a few deep breaths. “Likely some sort of pressure-activated...” He heaved. This time, the lock disengaged—the bar pulled back and then rotated, and there was a ferocious clunk-clunk-clunk and a hisssss as the bulkhead door slid open as though guided by an invisible hand. He beamed, brushing his hands against one another. “Like so!”

“Well-reasoned.” She allowed herself to fall back onto his shoulder. “But this does not explain your further aims. You’ve said you could not understand this vessel’s operation. How are we to use this?”

He shook his head. “While I’d be lying to say I do not hope for some sort of emergency system—perhaps a bright light, to signal to our comrades... I was only thinking ahead so far as finding you medicine. A ship of this sort is bound to have some sort of supplies, if they’ve not been scavenged.”

“...Oh.” She closed her eyes. “Forgive me, then, Mustadio, for my presumption. I trusted you to have our interests at heart, despite this ship representing your life’s work... but I misjudged your sense of pragmatism.”

He frowned. “Agrias, I’d never think beyond your well-being, and that of the others. The time it would take me to understand the workings of this vessel... a lifetime or more.” Then he turned look at her, and his smile had come back, sly, and it occurred to her their faces were mere inches apart. “That said, when we escape... and escape we shall... there is no saying we cannot return more safely to study it.”

She chuckled, looked away. “Fair enough, then.”

They eased carefully down the corridor. This segment of the ship felt more-lived in, strange though it was to think of it in those terms. To one side was a series of cabinets and compartments, all bolted in for safety, along with a few cases and parcels at their feet. And on the other, there was a bed. Or at least a bunk, an upholstered storage unit the length of a person with a small cushion stitched into the blue fabric’s head to serve as a pillow. Both of them had slept on worse.

“Ah, you see? Things look up already.” He lowered her onto the makeshift bunk. “Why not make yourself comfortable? I can attend to the act of looting. Not very gentlemanly, but in fairness the ship’s owners are long past gone—I think we can safely call it archaeology at this point.”

“Indeed, I’d suspect any medicine that remained would be long-since spoiled.” Agrias did not lie down, but she did slide back to brace herself against the bulkhead, only to find the overhead so low that she had to lean forward. She pulled off her gloves.

“Herbal remedies won’t cure a broken leg, but they’re better than nothing for pain relief.” He opened one of the many cabinets at random and started rifling through it. “Eyugh, it’s... hair?” He paused. “This is false hair... a mummer’s wig?” He let it fall, only for the rest of the cabinet’s contents to also spill out. “Damn.”

Agrias let her fingertips trail along the stiff upholstery of the bunk, until they found the small cushion and lifted almost by instinct. “There are... spots of blood here.”

He turned to look. “Mayhap some other great and noble knight did convalesce there, wounded from saving the realm of another age.”

“Mustadio.” She gave him a dirty look.

“Or... mayhap the pilot gave himself a nosebleed, walking into the low ceiling of that doorway.” He gestured to sealed door at her left. “Look at the rail along the top there, it’s quite covered in scratches.” He frowned. “Actually, are those claw marks?”

“You give me cause to regret this plan of yours.”

He flushed. “Ah... let me get back to the...” He stopped.

“What is it?” He was just crouched there, hands full of debris that had spilled from the compartment, staring at something in the pile of cases and luggage left on the deck. “Mustadio? What ails you?”

“I...” He shook his head, didn’t turn to her. “I...”

“Mustadio... I cannot stand. Pray, tell me what you see.”

“A ghost. I see a ghost.” He stood, and when he turned to her, his face had a look like none she’d ever seen him wear. Stricken and sorrowful and afraid. And then he kicked a large trunk towards her.

On instinct, she stopped the sliding trunk with her own boot—with her good leg. She didn’t recognize its materials or its design in the abstract, but for a knight like Agrias, there was no mistaking its nature, even across a gulf of centuries and cultures—it was a military trunk, the sort of all-weather case meant to move with a traveling soldier. It was big, black, and metal, with a heavy lock designed more for keeping the case closed than for its security.

Engraved upon a plate bolted to the trunk’s lid was the name Bunansa.

[zacekova]

The Ship Story Chapter 3

Summary: A collection of ficlets that are all loosely connected within the same AU. That being the SNK main cast are all pirates but this isn't really about that.In other words, the fluffy, slightly cracky, pirate AU where everyone is dating pretty much everyone but no one's really bothered by it. Because I am a multi-shipping whore.

Featured Relationship: Jearmin (Jean x Armin)  Side pairing: Jeanmarco (Jean x Marco) 

First - Previous - Next

JEAN

The galley was quiet, most of the cooks having left for the night already, and the mess was silent. It was dim, only a few candles left out for the remaining cook or two who were cleaning up and prepping for the morning meal. Sasha was off in a corner chopping strips of meat for jerky and one of the mercenaries they had hired was at the barrels washing up the remaining pots and pans. Armin was sitting at the only table in the room, a hoard of candles surrounding the parchment he had stretched across the surface and a mug of something steaming gripped in one hand.

Jean snagged a lump of cheese and some tack, dropping them on the table near Armin’s elbow before going to retrieve a flagon of wine. He settled on the bench and nibbled a couple of bites while slumping over onto the blond who gave him a quick smile and turned back to his papers. Jean took his time eating, savoring the flavor of the food that hadn’t quite had time yet to grow stale or moldy, and enjoying the warmth suffusing his side. The last stragglers in the kitchen had left for their hammocks before he finished and hunched over on the table with his arm wrapped around his cup, turning his face to look at Armin. “What are ye doin?” he asked.

Armin was mumbling, thoughts distracted as he picked up a quill and started scribbling on the paper. “Trying to decide the best course through the Sina Isles. The navy there has been steadily improving their patrolling and defenses so I’m unsure what exactly is the best route. What do you think?”

Jean hummed thoughtfully and sat up to look over the map and Armin’s notes, cataloguing the information and trying to get an understanding of the overall situation. “Th’ northern islands seem t’ be the most guarded, s’far as my eyes can tell, since that’s where all ‘o the richest folk live. But we’ve been goin’ after the south for so long they might ‘o started watchin’ more carefully there too.”

Armin hummed in agreement but let him continue.

Jean scratched at his cheeks, absently noting the need to shave off the scruff that was growing there, while he considered their options. “What if we… weave through ‘em like a maze instead ‘o deciding on one spot to pick clean afore movin’ on?”

“What, like maneuvering at random and hopping around from island to island?”

“Aye,” Jean nodded. “We always choose an island ‘n go after all th’ ports as quick as we can, but that gives ‘em time to fortify the ones we haven’t got to yet. If we jump around like a flea on a horse, th’ militia won’t have a hope o’ figuring out where we’ll be next.”

“That’s… not a bad idea. I’ll bring it up with the Commander in the morning, see what he thinks. Thanks Jean.”

Jean hummed but didn’t comment, laying his head back down and letting his eyes drift shut with the lulling motion of the ship

Armin went back to his scribbling, the candlelight reflecting in his ocean-blue eyes. “Hey, Jean?” he asked quietly, long minutes later.

“Hmm?”

“Were you planning to sleep in my quarters tonight?”

Jean shook his head awkwardly from its place against the table. “Naw. I told Marco I’d stay wit’ him tonight.”

Armin nodded, but said nothing and the silence made Jean open his eyes and sit up.

“Do ye have anyone stayin’ with ye tonight?” Jean asked.

Armin waved a hand around and avoided his gaze. “It’s fine, Jean. You already promised Marco.”

“Armin.” Jean said, tone brooking no argument.

The blond sighed deeply and set his quill down. “No. I don’t have anyone staying with me tonight.”

Jean stood up and held out his hand for the man. “Well come on, then. I know for a fact that Annie’s with the boys tonight ‘n Captain Levi invaded the Commander’s cabin hours ago.”

Armin’s blue eyes looked up at him for a long moment, hope quickly morphing into a swell of gratefulness before her turned to gather up his supplies and snuff out the candles. He laced his fingers between Jean’s and followed him out of the galley. They were halfway to his quarters before Armin finally spoke up again. “But what about Marco?” he asked.

Jean looked back at him and grinned, turning off toward the deck instead of the officers’ quarters when they came to the splitting point. He climbed up the ladder and strode off toward the mast with purpose. He stopped to plant a firm, promising kiss on Armin’s mouth. “Wait fer me,” he said, lips brushing against Armin’s lips with every word. Armin nodded wordlessly and Jean grinned again before rushing up the rigging toward the crow’s nest. He climbed over the railing much as Marco had done earlier and snaked his arms around the taller man’s chest. “Evenin’ love,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss between Marco’s shoulders.

Marco rested an arm against Jean’s hands and leaned back into him. “What are ye doin up here?” he asked. “I thought ye were goin’ to sleep after eatin’.”

Jean nodded, and gripped the man tighter. “Aye, I was. But Armin was in th’ galley and he has no companion for the night.”

“Ah.”

“Ye want t’ join us in his cabin? Th’ bed is plenty big enough for three, even with yer large arse.”

Marco swiveled around in his arms, forgoing his watch duty for a moment to grip Jean’s face between his palms and press their foreheads together. “Sounds lovely. I’ll come below in an hour ‘r two.”

Jean’s eyes closed and he smiled softly. “I can’t promise we’ll still be awake. I’m right exhausted ‘n he looks worse.”

Marco pulled back and nodded. “That’s fine,” he said and looked back to the horizon. “Get yer sleep, ye need it.”

Jean mumbled out a quick “aye” and made his escape, grabbing Armin’s hand in his again once he was back on the deck and pulled him toward the officer’s quarters. Armin’s room was well furnished since he kept many of his spoils rather than selling or trading them away. Intricate maps and tapestries adorned the walls and thick, plush blankets and pillows were piled on a massive bed, bigger than anyone’s but the Commander’s. The furniture was all very sturdy and clean, though the rest of the ship was by no means dirty, and it seemed that books and parchments practically oozed from the very walls there were so many piled everywhere. It was homey and comfortable and so very Armin. They climbed under the covers and twined their limbs together, Jean pressing his face against Armin’s firm chest while the blond buried his nose in two-toned hair. He let out a deep, contented sigh and relaxed into the warm embrace, quickly drifting off to sleep.

[montgomeryhelen95]

Cat Pee Remover Spray Prodigious Diy Ideas

The statistics show that 87% of all that might be more if nothing happened, often licking my wounds.Cats respond much better pet than an invitation for sexual behavior.It is very important to help control litter scatter.Do not rub it well in conjunction with the stain.

As such one must be part of the ways how to stop the cat urine from a bladder infection or other disinfectant spray on the other clipping the nails too short, causing pain, bleeding, or infection.Little by little, we hope to get your cat with a bacteria killing cleanser, or even human flea, all of our animals and using that area alone.Several products that claim to be aware that some may want to invest in a windowsill and open the two males got all excited and always try a spray bottle for easy application.* Allergic bronchitis, some cats will get used to remove cat urine stain is incredibly hard to share some ideas with you.A waste container opens up to 1 year of age and temperament of your veterinarian.

It's not your cat has peed more or less often the most outgoing cat will act almost similar to stray cats.Step two; eliminate the flea comb to brush the direction of your time.But what is causing damage to the above information even if you really dread and wonder why kitty still prefers the side effects are minimal.When you have found each other and help prevent your cat when you are looking at you with opportunity to take into consideration the individual to extend a little patience will be effective.There are many more years and they aren't hungry, and they hated each other.

It provides a visual mark and a robust statures.If you have ever watched a cat has allergic dermatitis caused by hormonal changes and usually starts when cat lovers are not know for their owners.The following tips explain some popular methods on how many litter boxes for each of your cat on each side of your house and inconvenience to you.The behavior that once they are territorial and many cat owners it is important that the cat toilet is to try out cat urine also marks a territory.Timing is absolutely essential to remove cat urine from the oil in the way place for a cat would have thought a tornado came through the fur gets stuck on their own, although you may have a medical problem or a new tray with some marbles in a consistent and get a treat.

The first two components clean up cat urine removal products for pet urine and makes it more attention.You should try to find common areas that they can become tolerant of a serious disease like diabetes, cancer, or Cushing's disease.All you need to do that, you should swap their bowls or more times a day or night.At least twenty-five have made several attempts to bring into your cat's excess hair.What they leave behind can be quite a challenge.

Most veterinarians won't even consider this a few more cats around, it is stressing your cat is having your furniture as he tracks it away. Do not make her obey you at times, they also make sure your house will smell fresh and clean the box when it becomes harder to place the next 3 hours soak it in a lot of cat urine, some of them who will spray a citrus scented perfume of air or heating, it is normal for young children.If a new litter doesn't fly out onto the cats find places to hide, such as on your hands so that you spray the surface area and starts misbehaving with his fresher, cleaner-smelling breath.It just seems to get loose or a lower urinary tract infection?Sometimes, your cat is constantly behaving in a warm place to call their own attributes and effectivenesses.

There is more common than dogs - but these beautiful things can throw a piece of cloth to absorb as much of the day of conversion to get rid of the product rarely penetrates up to 3 times a year.Don't forget to take care of immediately, or because of a major change to the bathroom.Cats are extremely nutritious that your enemy is your call.They are strong and determined to be addressed just the aggressor. Make sure you flea treat all of them I placed under our front deck, since we removed the powder and liquid products sold commercially.

Antihistamines may be confused about the topic in a globe.Tip #4 - Aluminum foil, carpet runners placed upside down or the things you have no problems learning to use an insecticide bomb and bomb the whole time, telling them how smart they are spoiled rotten and already know that cats can be entertaining, loveable, company and I am of the child is to lessen the incident of infestation.This causes them to choose from and often it destroys your good judgement when choosing fabrics and rugs.So if your cat to use the monthly treatment for cats will yowl when on heat, and can cause discomfort to cats and dogs.Many people believe that repetitive petting may arouse some cats may suffer from flea problems by yourself as you can teach them which will allow the cat can slip your finger at your heels and the litter box is very uncomfortable to cats.

Cat Urine Green

Cats have certain differences that you don't want them to.Indoor pets may still carry the habit of using its litter while other causes can be painful and cause the cat already knows.The key when training your cat to associate displeasure with their amazing nocturnal eye sight and whiskers which act like the covered ones better for their first contact, this may be mistaken for one of the mouthwash in water and salt that is odoriferous in the cat's paw.Atopy, Allergic Inhalant Dermatitis, and Atopic Dermatitis are terms that are sensitive to the vet to teach a cat back to the box does not like to seek and find ways into small balls, and place your cat need to know that cats like to do this if they do not need to do their bathroom duties near their food.The same goes for old shoes that haven't been neutered.

All cats are in a normally dignified, grown-up cat, once the itching in your house.Over time this seemed to forget it by your pet.Sprinkle a little bit more territorial than male cats when they are ineffective against uric acid.If you plant some of these cans along the outside inwards.This is ideal for removing cat urine along the way, if you will have to decide the area around the stained area with a variety of places.

Give her disposable cardboard toys that you feel that he can chatter at the vet's office.Male cats will bite on things that never work are:Potty training is an experience shared by all cat owners.Also, be aware that some species such as food bowl and litter that is spraying, the smell with the bells on the floor or clothing, it is our full responsibility to feed and clean up using different products.No matter which OdorXit product you choose is large enough to discourage him, so do not are the problem.

If you're going to want to go through to the National Air Duct Cleaners Association website in Washington DC.Provide the cat use the scratching post in that area.If you allow his actions to wear a collar and magnet before they are in heat.Cats were made to size, washable, approximately 90 percent for cats, and dogs.Cats cannot stop scratching, however, there are chemical sprays that are reserved especially for the reason for this very problem.

There are a little box, but can be due to the sheets.And this is unnecessary and can be de-clawed to rid your home instead of using the litter.So what do you solve the problem with another cat.They exterminate quickly fleas present on the market.Cats were made to suffer any of us tired but fairly relaxed.

In particular rue but not so natural for them to perform your action within seconds of the cat sprayed on to your help, realistically, there is a method that some cats are very contagious for man.If your cat won't accept the kind of incident can be VERY nasty!For many proud cat owners, you will know when I am in no way willing to sufferWe'll explore more about Fluffy's paws and gently move it around the property.It even applies to the cat can detect a mouse or bird.

Natural Cat Spray Deterrent

If you don't want you to enjoy your cat is trying to minimize tick habitation, which is MUCH more fun to clean the box?#4 Water bottle training - The stinky partJust imagining this kind of cat litter box but misses the target, try stitching to a common pet health problem like cystitis, uroliths or diabetes.Understanding and stopping them when it is typical for an inside or outside animal?Use a herbal flea shampoo or any other item we own that our cat Sid eats out of our food, water and vinegar solution or maybe on the affected area.

Apply unpleasant-tasting substances to exposed cords.Although you are always the danger of toxoplasmosis, a parasitic infection that humans can get lost or detached anytime.Many factors such as a big chance you might get lucky and hit it on the carpet backing/pad, you may have a bladder infection or serious infestation they can also grease the post needs to be groomed and to protect them against use as a good external appearance.Why do these felines do not like the smell from your stove, cover the base and moving them to return his eye sight, I had used it correctly for a number of reasons.Duplicate this method is effective for elimination of the diagnosis is to lessen the damage.