#this man is so sickly but also so fine. hes so fine. i need malnourished men

[johns-prince]

John also had a lovely mix of masculine and feminine physical traits, though this wouldn't become obvious until 1968. When he was on the skinny side (which I loved, sue me) you could tell how beautifully delicate and dainty his bone structure was, way more than Paul's imo. He had those gorgeous long legs and graceful narrow hips that you most commonly find in fashion models. And I love that until at least 1975, he showcased his body beautifully, especially those legs.

Ironically I feel as if people didn't embrace John's femme beauty as well as they did with Paul. I don't know why. Most people seem to prefer him with the more masculine look of 1966. Which was great as well, he was gorgeous but I am a big fan of the 1968 to 1974 run. Btw, note to fanfic writers: please, show John's body some love, I know Paul is stunning but it's kind of exhausting reading 10 pages about how pretty he is and when it comes to my boy John he barely gets a paragraph 😂

Alright, I feel like I’m probably gonna rub a lot of people in this fandom the wrong way with what I’m going to say but this is my blog and you did send this to my inbox so here we go; At the end of the days these are my thoughts and feelings and I might not articulate them very well or I often ramble till I do!

I have my issues, and a complicated relationship with 1968-70s John Lennon. I love John, and thought him healthy and just right in his body type, basically up until 1968, and it’s spotty onward throughout the 70s. To me, John was naturally masculine looking, there’s not exactly an era or year that I could give you like you gave me [Specifically 1966? What about his teddy boy days? All of the early 60s? Hell even throughout the 70s, to me John still was masculine looking to me] He was a bit awkward in his teenhood, but all the boys were, and gradually grew into his adult body. Boy was built and sturdy, naturally thick and strong. 

So we’re probably split on this, because while you see the positives in 1968-1974/70s John, I only really see the negatives. You say skinny, I say malnourished and/or sickly. Depressed druggie who was pushing everyone and everything he loved away, and becoming pathetically dependent on an individual like Yoko [and the other vultures during that time who were terrible influences] 

George was skinny, John was not well and either starving himself or simply using drugs and alcohol as the basis for his diet. And diets.. don’t even get me started on that, the diets he was on, the unhealthy lifestyle that his wife only seemed to enable and help him get on. 

When I look at George, sometimes I get the need to feed him, like an old Mexican mother. When I look at John, who’d lost an unhealthy amount of weight for what it looked like for his body type, I don’t see delicate and dainty bone structure. I see a man who just, he’s not well, something’s wrong.

I’ll give it to you that 1974 New York photoshoot looked very nice, he had muscle again in his arms, though he was still relatively skinny, he didn’t look sickly, or depressed. So I can give you that period during the 70s, I will give you that [hey he was away from Yoko during this no fucking wonder he looked pretty good here] and that shoot was definitely a model moment, wasn’t it? [Not like he didn’t have many of those moments throughout his life] 

So there moments in the seventies where I think John doesn’t look half bad? Even relatively fine? Certainly, I’m devastatingly attracted to this man, dear God almighty have mercy on my soul yes I am. So I’ll agree that yeah, there were periods during the 70s in which John seemed to hold himself fairly well, I’d still climb it.

But I’m at least willing to admit that when John started his spiraling, in 1968, that he was Not Okay. And I personally believe he wasn’t all that okay throughout most of the 70s too... Maybe my issue isn’t with him being ‘skinny’ as it is I don’t like the underweight/severely underweight look on John, I just don’t. The incredibly unhealthy way he went about losing weight... Physically frail doesn’t fit him, and it only upsets me whenever I see photos of him that show how thin his legs became or how you can see his ribs, just how wasted away he’d look at times throughout the 70s, up until the last days of his life. 

You want a “skinny” or ''skinnier'' John Lennon? A healthy, ‘’skinny/skinnier’’ John Lennon for his body type, is ‘66 and ‘67 in my eyes, and even then it wasn’t a radical change in weight loss; John still looked like John.

And speaking of 1968-1969, or the White Album era; don’t think it isn’t lost on me when I see people making light of John’s unhygienic appearance during the making of the White Album. Boy was depressed and hurting for whatever reason, again, spiraling, and getting lost in Yoko and heroin as a means of escapism and someone to tell him ‘it’s alright it isn’t your fault it’s everyone else’s fault’. Of course he didn’t care much for his personal appearance or hygiene... I will say I appreciate your appreciation for him during that period, instead of getting the whole ‘stinky/smelly rat man.’ Maybe I’m too much of a ‘’stan’’ but I don’t find it very amusing or endearing. 

Don’t find me mocking or ‘’teasing’’ Paul’s depressed ass and his appearance during the breakup period/white album era-- but I suppose it’s because Paul actually tried and wasn’t on hard drugs, and had a good wife, so he was able to wear his depression and struggle with alcoholism a bit better, hmm? I don’t like Paul’s beard simply because I know it was the result of his lack of energy, depression, and falling into the drink-- he simply didn’t feel the need nor had the energy to care for himself, so that’s why he let it grow out. I don’t like it because of that, but that’s as much as you’ll get from me. 

Anyway... Maybe I just don’t see John as characteristically feminine/effeminate as Paul, although he has his moments of acting and wearing clothes that are campy and elegant or give off a softer appearance, specifically around 1968 and throughout the 70s. But otherwise, I can’t agree, John didn’t have the same mixture, or balance of masculine and feminine traits as Paul-- and if it’s only made obvious during the downfall turning point of The Beatles and John (1968), then I don’t think that really counts as a ‘’lovely’’ mix of masculine and feminine traits for the reasons I mentioned. So I’ve got to disagree. John's always come off as much more masculine, or naturally masculine, both physically and characteristically, to me.

You know maybe it’s just the blogs I interact with, but I feel like it’s the other way around. I know I can sometimes come off as aggressive but at the end of the day I don’t necessarily care what one person thinks or believes, since it’s all relatively subjective to our own ideas of things and biases, etc... I have my thoughts and beliefs and theories and whether people agree or disagree with them on tumblr dot com... Well, what’re you gonna do? Nothing, it’s not my problem. 

What I 100% agree on you with is about showing Johnny’s body a bit more love and attention to detail when it comes to writing about him in fanfiction! 

There’s his auburn red hair, a darker ginger, which was thick and fun to watch as it lit up like fire when sunlight hit him, and could easily go wavy and curl when left unkempt and natural. The splattered and scattered galaxies of light freckles up and down his arms, his shoulders, his back, even a couple on his face. His aquiline nose, a relatively square jawline and facial structure, thick, heavy eyebrows which really intensify expressions of rage and hurt, almond shaped eyes which are the color of honey-amber when the light hits them just right and outlined with thick, long lashes, blind as a bat without his glasses but can give a mean squint which either helps scare off trouble, or brings it right to him, especially when he’s got thin bitten lips that could pull off a devilishly cheeky smirk or a no-good, charming grin to showcase teeth with the upper front turned slightly in towards each other, gives that imperfection which truly just perfects it-- a face like that of a tragic hero in a Greek Romance, distinctive and handsome. How he just oozed filthy sex and genuine trouble, sweaty leather and smoky dancehalls and rock & roll that crawls up your spine like an orgasm. Hips that could roll like Elvis and strong legs, thick thighs which would make a lovely place to sit. Broad shoulders, strong arms that could easily manage to lift you up and manhandle you in any way he’d like. Big hands, almost like shovels-- beautiful hands, with fingernails usually bitten short and occasionally had black ink or charcoal under them from when he’d be working on art, and rough, callused fingertips from playing guitar till they split and bleed, add a lovely roughness to any gentle touching he might do. A naturally thick midsection, a normal, healthy layer of fat which covers the sinewy just beneath. Any hair is light, light and lightly colored, on his arms and legs and chest. Cute tush, nice butt, a nice boy butt, slightly muscular bubble butt. 

Fun facts; he had the largest feet out of all four Beatles. John isn’t circumcised. John and George share the same height. John has a surprisingly long tongue. John’s skin tone may be light, but for comparison, he’s much tanner compared to Paul-- he’s a bit more olive or wheat to his skin tone, and tanned very, very well. John’s cheeks could become easily red though. John liked the scent of citrus to wear--  he was also self conscious about the fact he could easily sweat and so usually wore such colognes or scents, didn’t want to smell bad. He started smelling of witch hazel when with Yoko. Despite his issue with sweating, he didn’t smell bad naturally. John was a true romantic, being an artist outside of being a musician/rock and roller-- he just didn’t like to show it, and growing up in his time, you couldn’t. John’s a swimmer, he loved to swim and loved the ocean. 

[whumpbby]

With the sickly au!Jason fics and such, what would Damians reaction to Jason be? This could be reverse Robins if you want. Or it could be that Jay never really got better, he was never Robin, more like what Oracle is.

Aw man, a sickly little Jay picked up by the reverse-WaynesTT 

Bruce found him in the streets as usual and brought him home - because at this point he already had Damian and Tim, and Duke was his Oracle, and Steph was the budding Batgirl (Say, he was adopted by the Commish and Babs’ older bro who didn’t know about his powers - yet;]) and he was used to kid-acquisition, okay?  He knew how it went - he’d try for a moment to pretend he’ll give them out to some other good family, only to inevitably end up with the kid back under his wing, because he was a man who couldn’t let go;]  

So, to skip the charade, he brought Jay back to the Manor. Damian was picking up the slack of angsty Red Bat with the Titans, Tim was back from the dead and causing chaos, Duke was tortured by the Joker and barely escaped with his life (and maybe-maybe-not discovered he wasn’t quite human) and Steph had a little mute tagalong she couldn’t seem to shake, and Bruce needed something to focus on - something that was good, and normal, something he could help with. 

It wasn’t Robins Bat needed, after all, it was the children behind them - the family he could return to at the end of the day, softness he could feel without pain of tragic memories. Help he could give to someone without it turning sour. 

And Jay needed help - a small thing, he needed food and warmth, and medical care. Heck, Tim was a small kid when Bruce adopted him, but Jay was beating him here - Tim was just slender, but well-feed, Jay was malnourished and wasted by a never-quite-healed pneumonia. Living in the cold and damp did a number on his respiratory system, knocking out his bronchi and sinuses, rendering him asthmatic and nah, Bruce wasn’t going to hand the kid over to the services in that state - at this point he already knew he couldn’t trust them.

So, Jay got his own room and Alfred took to his medical care with gusto - the man also needed something to focus on, the issue with Tim was painful for everyone. And Jay was starting to believe his luck might have turned finally for the better.

So, it was Steph who saw him first - he was asleep on the couch after a rather tiring bout of sickness, swaddled in blankets and flushed with fever (Alfred allowed him to spend the day downstairs so the boy wouldn’t be alone and was easier to keep an eye on). She was back form a patrol, walking to the kitchen for a snack, wiping her hair after a shower and speaking loudly to Alfred - when the man peeked out of the kitchen and gave her the most powerful ‘shush’ in his arsenal. 

Only then she noticed the bundle on the couch - a fine detective she was, huh - and her first reaction was “Is he freaking serious?!” and the second was “Wow, he’s a little cutie, isn’t he? We didn’t have a redhead yet!”

(in this au Jay had red hairXD) 

From there Duke was send photos (because of course he was) and was “Oh no, I will protect this baby with my life!” because he’s a good guy and his older-brother instincts were rock-solid.

Damian learned about his newest sibling when he returned to the Manor for Alfred’s birthday (they were at odds with Bruce at the time) and saw the slip of a child hiding in the corner of the kitchen, watching Damian give Alfred his best wishes. His instant reaction was anger (because it was his go-to reaction in most cases at the time) and poor Jay ran away scared. Alfred was not impressed. 

It took a bit of time for the kid to stop fearing the big scary man - Bruce was big, but he was soft and not scary at all. Damian was big and tough and had a perma-frown and Jay saw him on some portraits int he Manor, but in person he was more imposing than the boy from the pictures. 

Damian was unhappy about another stray his father brought home. At least Staph had all her vaccinations! (To which Steph threatened to lick his face while he was sleeping, because that was the relationship they had). That sickly little thing was going to die on the streets! He was in no way going to be Robin! 

But Bruce didn’t want another Robin. He wanted to give this child a good home and education and future. Yeah, Jay was very poorly and it was doubtful that he’d ever be strong enough for the feats of athleticism their job required, and that was okay, he didn’t need to be. If he ever learned their secrets, it would be one thing, he’d never go out into the field. He could be like Duke, who stepped away form Robining when he became a fulltime older brother and decided that he could do more good for Batman and his dad behind the screen.

(Damnit, now I want Damian and Duke to have this relationship of equals where Dami was the Robin and Duke was the Bitgirl Black Bat and they are grown up now and have this cordial brotherly bond where Duke is not afraid to verbally trash Damian when necessary and Damian pretends to ignore him, but always takes his advice into consideration, and they both roll heir eyes at Bruce and his drama, and they’re both shattered over what happened to Tim, and they have each-other’s back, and it was Duke who taught Damian to stand the fuck still when someone hugs him)

So, Damian now had to creep back into his baby brother’s good graces, because somehow Alfred took the boy under his wing and one needed to keep the Butler sweet. And okay, Jay was a good kid, smart, eloquent, scared of being abandoned, desperately needing a family. He liked halva. He was okay. And it was good to have a baby bother again, to have some life back in the Manor, to have Bruce smile again from time to time over aced report cards and books stacked neatly next to the couch.

One day, a few months in, Damian came back home with a present for his newest sibling. 

He brought Jay a cat. 

[satanschild01]

No All Might? That’s Alright

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction

A/N: I started to re-watch the bnha anime, and it came to me what if All Might said no and left, and what might happen after that. I added a few twists to this one to make it a bit more pow! Hope you like this new series, because I have more ideas for later on! ~ Em

Tags for more feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines​ @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger Warnings: suicide baiting and suicide

Word Count: 2110

Part 1 Part 2

______________

At the young age of 4, Izuku Midoriya learnt that not all men were made equal. He was pronounced quirkless. He thought that that would be the worst of it...but no. It was just the calm before the storm

“If you wanna be a hero that badly, there’s a quick way to do it…”

Why did it have to be this way? Please...just leave me alone Kacchan...

“Just hope that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next and life”

What have I ever done to deserve this? Why does it have to be this way?

“and take a swan-dive off the roof!”

What if I did? What if someone found out you were the reason for jumping! You could never become a hero if that got out!

Inflamed with despondency that Kacchan would even think of saying something so cruel, Izuku turned around on his heels. His shoulders were tense, he was going to say something back. But it seemed like Kacchan wasn’t worried about Izuku’s upcoming comeback as he raised his hand. Smoke and heat radiated from his palm as he gave Izuku a sharp-edged smirk. “Something wrong?”

Izuku just wilted where he stood. His fight earlier with the boy left him deflated and he was left alone standing in the junior high classroom. Consumed with all his thoughts. Izuku dragged his heavy feet out of the classroom walking down to the fountain to retrieve his burned and drenched notebook.

My dreams will be eaten away just like the koi eat at my book…

Izuku turned around and started walking. Kacchan’s words flooding through his mind.

______________________

Izuku didn’t remember carrying his body up to the roof of the school. All he knew was that his feet were cold and that he was staring over the edge, looking down at the hard concrete below. He remembered taking off his red shoes and neatly placing them next to the ledge.

Should I leave a note?

He decided not to write a note, besides, the burned and soaked notebook gave all the proof it needed to. He stared at the spot where he would most likely hit the ground and took in a calming breath…

Would it hurt?

Who would be the person to find him?

Would anyone care?

What would Kacchan think?

Izuku felt a freezing chill go down his spine. What was he doing? He would jump because Kacchan told him to? This is wrong. The boy stepped off the ledge, disgusted in himself that he would fall to Kacchan’s will. He shoved his feet back into his shoes, walking back down to the ground safely through the stairs. He would show everyone that he could become a hero and get into U.A without a lousy quirk. He probably won’t be the next #1 hero. But he’ll do his best to reach the top. No matter what it takes.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Izuku started to slowly make his way back home. It probably looked more like the grimace face emoji than a smile, but he didn’t care, he was going to keep smiling. That’s what All Might did.

He stopped smiling, turning into gasps for air as a sludge monster grabbed him and tried to force itself into his body. Slowly cutting his airways off. Trying to fight off the villain, moving around his limbs to try and save himself from what it felt like, molasses. Trying to move the sludge away from his mouth but to no prevail. The monster called him a hero...But he wasn’t a hero! Not yet. He wanted to be... he couldn’t be a hero if he let this villain take control of his body and use him as a puppet! But...But his sight was already getting spotty...The fight in his limbs was getting weaker…

I...I think I’m dying…

I-I don’t wanna die like this! I want to die on my own terms! Not forced to!

It hurts...so...so much and slow...

Someone, please help me!

A deep metallic ping rang noticeable all around, however, Midoriya scarcely saw it as he did whatever it took not to cry.

“It’s alright now young man.” A voice...where have I heard it before?- “Because I am here!”All Might! The villain tried to fight back, but All Might easily dodged and went in for a single punch. The force was so powerful it forced the sludge villain to disperse. The villain said something, but Izuku couldn’t tell. When the sludge was defeated, Izuku fell back onto the pavement and it was either the oxygen deprivation or the impact that rendered him unconscious.

______________________

“Hey! Hey!” Izuku heard as his body woke up, feeling rapid but gentle taps on his left cheek. He didn’t want to wake up. He just wanted to sleep. To go home and wallow in his own pity. There’s no way his bad day could get any worse. Either way, he must have given some sign that he was awake as the voice continued.

“Oh good, your awake!” Wait…Izuku’s eyes jolted open, sitting up quickly as he was trying to process what he was seeing

“Sorry ‘bout getting you caught in my villain fighting!” That voice...that’s All Might! “I don’t usually make mistakes like this”

He needed an autograph. Looking frantically around for his journal he was shocked to realize it’s being held towards him. The boy’s eyes widened as he took his journal back from his hero and opened it up to be already signed! All Might’s signature took up the whole spread of his notebook!

“It was the least I could do for getting you all mixed up in this mess!” All Might told him before patting his pocket. It was only then that Izuku noticed the soda bottle containing the villain that had just previously been choking the life out of him. “Now then, I have to get this guy to the police. See you on the other side of the screen!”

All Might turns around stretching out his legs and going into a crouched position about to jump away. Izuku found this as the best opportunity to ask his idol if he could pursue his dream, which was slowly going away after all the years of tormenting. “Wait...t-there is something I need to ask!” he shouted, rushing towards the hero.

Which led to the worst decision Izuku has ever made in his life. He grabbed onto the hero’s leg as he took off, way up high into the sky. This was also one of the scariest moments of his life, as he held on for dear life. But he needed an answer. “Let go of me! Your fanaticism is too much!”

“If I...let go…I’ll die!”

“That’s true,” All Might said and landed on a nearby rooftop. “Well then,” And Izuku was ashamed to hear the annoyance in his voice, “I guess I have time to answer your question.”

Izuku nodded, as he tried to push out the 10 words he needed “Can I...become a hero...even though I’m quirkless?”

All Might half turned towards Izuku. The silence is painful as he waits anxiously for an answer from the hero.

“Without a quirk?” 

All Might started to slightly shake and steam started to roll off hin large muscular body, but Izuku didn’t seem to notice as he was looking down at his shoes. When the steam vanished a man who looks very malnourished appeared. His hair, merely a poor mimic of All Might, was stringy and limp...He looked sickly and…

“Y-y-your deflating..!” Izuku shouted, shooting his head around looking for the 7ft tall hero he was just talking to a minute ago “A fake?! You’re so skinny!” 

“I am All Might. It’s like how those people constantly flexing their muscles at the pool,” he said nonchalantly as he wiped dripping blood from his mouth. “And I’m counting on you to keep your mouth shut about this. That includes your friends.”

“I s-sorta don’t have-”

His thought comes to a halt as he saw the deformed red and purple patchy scar marking All Might’s skin. It was layers upon layers of scars from stitches and Izuku felt his own side start to burn at the thought of the immense pain he must have felt. It worsened as All Might explained the fight that wrecked his body and put a timer on his hero time. “Symbol of peace. Always smiling...I smile to show the pressure of heroes...and to trick the fear inside me. Pros are always risking their lives.” The man spoke with conviction and anger, a pantomime of All Might.

“So the answer to your question is no.” Izuku froze. He had almost forgotten about his question in the showing of his identity, and past. But now that he remembered he just stood there with slumped shoulders trying to make himself smaller. “Heroing is a dangerous job and most villains can’t be beaten without the use of quirks. So no, I don’t think you could become a hero without a quirk. If you want to help others, then you can become a police officer. They’re ofter teased because they get villains delivered to thor doorstep but that is also a fine occupation”

“B-but my dream-” Izuku started as tears welled up in his eyes.

“It’s okay to have dreams. Just make sure those dreams are realistic.” All Might told him as he opened the door on the building and headed inside. The door slammed signifying the end...the end of the conversation and the end of Izuku’s dreams of being a hero. How could he continue on when his idol, the one he looked up to since he could walk, told him to stop trying. All because he didn’t have a quirk

After his idol, his all-time favourite hero broke his already breaking heart Izuku found no other way to continue on. His dreams he held so tightly were more than shattered. It was like someone completely shattered his dreams and breaking them more than all that was left was dust. Not even Kacchan could fully shatter his dreams, but by the hero, he looked up to his whole life. He was useless without a quirk. He was a stupid Deku like what Kacchan had always been telling him all those times before.

Izuku should have listened to him when they were little. He should have given up on his foolish dream of going to UA or becoming one of the greatest heroes. He could see now that the regulation change to allow quirkless people like him to apply to U.A was for publicity’s sake. After all, no quirkless person could actually pass the entrance exams.

“Just hope that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next and life...and take a swan-dive off the roof!”

The laughter of Bakugou's friends rang in Izuku's ear telling him how stupid he was for thinking he ever had a chance in such an unfair world.

Before he could decipher what he was doing, Izuku had kicked his faded red shoes off, once again placing them neatly on the ground and he was standing on the edge of the roof that All Might had so casually left him on after breaking his dreams.  His breath short and rasping. But besides his breaths, Izuku was calmer than he’s been in years. He was starting to feel free.

"You have so much to live for-"

No, I don't.

Izuku quickly shut down his line of thought as fast as it had come. He had nothing to live for. He knew that now. Not without a quirk. Even the police academy would expect him to have a quirk.

The world has no place for me anymore.

As true the thought may be it was still scary. But it was true...

There's no point in delaying the inevitable.

Izuku took one last deep breath, stretching his arms out beside him.

It'll be over fast.

Thought in mind, Izuku fell. The wind rushed passed him faster than ever. Faster than bullet trains. It almost felt like he was flying. A small smile spread across his lips. Flying. That would be a fun quirk to have. It wouldn’t be useless. He wouldn’t be useless.

Izuku didn't process the moment when he had hit the ground. It was only when he looked over and down that he saw himself lying limp on the pavement. His deed was done. But wasn't there supposed to be a bright light? Angels? No light? Flames of hell? Why was he still here?

[jays--writing-blog]

The Unimaginable  (Chrom x Queen Regent!MC x Lon’Qu)

~Fire Emblem: Awakening~

A/N: I’ve been having the mighty need to write some Fire Emblem: Awakening fics for a very, very long time. This is the first time I’ve written for this fandom, so I hope I honed it alright. Perhaps I might turn this in a series if you guys want? 

This originally was a story I wrote for an original story of mine... many many years ago, but I decided to rewrite it with my two fav FE boys. 

~SFW~

Word Count: 2,174

Find me on Ao3 at obsessivelystrange

“Ahem,” an older, higher ranked guard cleared his throat as he lifted himself upward from his respectful bow to the Queen Regent who sat regally on her golden encrusted throne. Her Consort, Lon’qu stood where could always be found; at her side, his sword staying stationary on his hip, ready to use at any moment. 

“You may speak,” The Queen nodded in approval as her hands smoothed over the cloth of her elegant, jade gown. The royal guard cleared his throat once again before speaking. “I am... unsure on how to address this issue, your majesty,” his eyes searched the Queen Regent’s face, trying to find encouragement in her mild, yet encouraging smile.  

Y/N quickly became accustomed to the fact that her high tanking station would be intimidating to more than an abundance of people--- even those that held high official ranks of her own. She learned that nearly eleven long years ago when the crown of Ylisse was placed upon her head with her now late husband, Chrom, by her side. 

“I have served under many generations of exalts within these very palace’s walls and never had much of an issue delivering news, majesty,” he admitted sheepishly, relinquishing another cough from her throat. 

Y/N could see the guard’s white mustache twitching as he tried to force the news from his lips. 

“Come now,” Lon’qu, spoke out to the guard, urging the elderly guard to continue. The Queen knew Lon’qu could sense something was horribly off. She also knew Lon’qu would have no issue springing into action at a moment’s notice of an attack. 

“Let him take his time,” Y/N nodded at her husband’s direction, thoughtfully. “I’ve known him since my first arrival to the palace,” she hoped to assure Lon’qu that nothing serious was taking place. “Take your time, Sir Michael,��� she addressed him by name, hoping to ease the guard further.  

“There is a visitor awaiting you outside by the castle gates, milady. I most highly recommend greeting him. 

Y/N perked an eyebrow. “Outside? Why not usher him inside?”

“I-It’s complicated your majesty. I thought about bringing him inside myself, but I only come to find that it would be most appropriate to meet him outside... alone.” 

Lon’qu stiffened at the proposition. “I will accompany the Queen Regent---”

“Milord, I highly advise against that in this instance and this instance alone.”

“What about her protection?” He inquired, in a tense voice. 

“I can assure you, milord, she is no danger.”

“Besides, I have my guards. There are many other things that need attending by the Queen Regent’s consort, anyway, “ she grinned, lifting herself up from her throne. “Would you care to check in on Morgan and Lucina?”

Lon’qu released a sigh. “Very well,” he nodded. “If you do find yourself in need of me, I will remain near... you need only call for me.”

“I know,” she smiled, lifting her gown ever so slightly to walk forward without tripping on the delicate silken fabric that skimmed the ground. “Please, lead the way, Sir Michael.”

The sun was out and gleaming with its bright rays, burning down onto the cobblestone terrain of the castle’s front courtyard. It was the perfect day for an outing in the gardens, Y/N noted. Perhaps after her meeting with this unknown guest, she could bring Lon’qu and her children down for a stroll. “What can you tell me of our guest?” The Queen Regent questioned, keeping her hands elegantly folded together holding her head up high as usual.

“I don’t think I should be the one to explain. Besides, he is just down there,” he gestured straight ahead. “Just by the gates, your grace,” he squinted to keep the sun’s blinding light from his eyes and pointed forward. 

Y/N’s eyes surveyed the path before her. A tall figure stood in front of the cast iron gates that led to the entrance from Castle Town, to the Castle Grounds. It was monitored at all times to ward out any unwelcome guests or to usher in innocent citizens in need to an audience with the royal officials inside.

Using her right hand to block the sun from her eyes, Y/N looked down the pathway to possibly get a better image of the figure. The figured seemed familiar--- she didn’t know in what way, however? Perhaps it was an old friend from the battles she helped fought all those many years ago against Gangrel and Grima... That certainly would be a pleasant surprise seeing as many of them had gone their separate ways, back to their own homelands to defend against their own invaders. 

“Go on, your majesty, I shan’t hold you back anything further,” Sir Michael nodded, standing aside. 

“Aren’t you coming with me?” 

“I will be behind you, but I will assure you again, our guest has no intentions of laying a harmful hand upon you. You know him quite well, actually. Quite well,” he repeated, before coughing once again. 

The Queen nodded, her smile vanishing as her thoughts raced on whom awaited her at the end of the pathway. Without consciousness of her own movements, she pressed forward on her own, lowering her hand from her eyes but keeping her vision locked on the blurry figure before her. 

Maybe it was an old ally? A noble visiting from the land’s far off? Maybe a retired member of the court? Her mind wandered further and further as she got closer and closer. 

Her eyes adjusted to the light as the mysterious figure came into better view. 

She halted immediately as her brain began to decode the identity of the man before her. 

“Majesty,” the familiar voice sent a warm chill down Y/N’s spine, reeling her mind into the past. Her eyes bore into the familiar man before her--- her late husband Chrom, the Exalt of Ylisse. 

His indigo shaded hair was unkempt and longer than she’d ever remembered witnessed before. His familiar army fatigues were caked in dirt and dried blood, revealing some parts of his skin where pieces of fabric were slit off. He spoke and stood with the same modesty he held the last time she saw him. He even still had that same smile that graced his cut and dry lips. Chrom still held himself higher than the Queen, but he looked sickly and dramatically malnourished. 

“Chrom?” She questioned, feeling her heart stop completely. “Chrom?!” She repeated in utter shock, bursting off into a sprint to close the remaining distance between them to get a closer glimpse of him. 

He hurried closer to her, moving with a limp in his step but wanting to meet her in the middle of the courtyard.

It was him. It was truly him! It was the same man that had left for war nearly eight years ago. It was the father of her son and daughter. It was her husband! The Exalt!

It was the man that she and the people of this world thought was killed in the line of battle all those years ago... a man that took years to mourn.

Was she dreaming?

“Chrom!” Y/N finally confirmed, finally noticing the steady stream of tears now flooding down her cheeks as she rushed into his embrace. His arms were already wide open and waiting. 

“I thought---” she could only force out those two words before choking on her sobs and burying her face into his chest. 

His gentle, familiar hands smoothed down the back of her locks, pressing a chaste relieved kiss to her forehead. His eyes fluttered shut as his free hand wrapped around her waist pulling her closer to his body. His thumb gently glided over the silk of her dress, allowing the feeling of safety rush over his body for the first time in years. 

The guards all stood in silence, watching the reunion from a safe distance. 

“We already have no privacy,” he teased, sliding the hand that took comfort on her waist slid upward to her wet cheek. He used his thumbs to vanquish the falling tears with ease. “Remember when I told you I would go to the ends of this world to be with you all those years ago?” 

Y/N nodded, sniffling but failing to hide her overwhelming joy of being Chrom’s presence again. 

“I wasn’t joking,” he chuckled softly, a hint of sorrow stun behind his words. 

“What happened, Chrom?” The Queen’s eyes never left his. “The strategies I had sent to you were---”

“They helped me survive,” he smiled somberly. His eyes glanced down to their feet. “I was a prisoner of war. The Exalt of Ylisse is a mighty bargaining chip.”

She blinked, unable to fully process what he revealed to her. “You’ve been a prisoner... all of this time? Ever since I got word that you had passed?”

He didn’t nod. He didn't even blink. 

“Oh, Chrom, I should have known! I should have known that notice was a fake. I should have known you were out there. I should have---”

“Hush,” he pulled her closer into his chest, placing his chin on her shoulder. “There was no way to know, Y/N. The only thing that matters now is that I’m home... with you, Lucina, and Morgan,” he muttered. “How are they? Are they healthy? Are they faring alright?”

The queen quickly remembered the last time he saw his firstborn was when she was only three years old. He last saw their youngest, Morgan, when he was still merely a newborn. 

They were the reason she didn’t accompany him on the battlefield. 

Her heart dropped as reality suddenly snapped back into her mind. Ignoring every screaming instinct in her body and soul, she gently pushed on Chrom’s chest, backing away very slowly. 

She remembered Lon’qu. Her...consort--- her newly wedded husband. 

“What’s the matter?” Chrom’s voice suddenly turned frantic. “Are our children okay?”

The Queen blinked and forced a smile. “They’re fine. They’re great... They are both healthy, smart, everything we dream they would be.

”She’s eleven now, yes?

Y/N nodded. “Yes, she eleven. He’s only eight.”

“Every waking moment I thought about you and our children--- praying you all remained safe and sound.” 

“The battles stayed well off from Castle Town. Everywhere else was not as lucky. Our troops as you know were spread thin. I was sending strategies to generals across the continent, trying to ease the blows,” she explained, as her sadness became more and more evident. 

“Love, what’s wrong?” He reached outward to touch her cheek, but she took another step back, evading his touch. “Do I reek?” He jested.

“No, no,” she forced a chuckle. “I---” She swallowed hard. 

Lon’qu stayed in her mind. He was the one man... the one person.. that she could find comfort in her grief; the grief for her kingdom, the grief for her husband, and the grief for her people.  

They’d known each other since the beginning during Chrom and Y/N’s first visit to Ferox. He always held a hesitation toward women, but Y/N helped break his phobia. After gaining news in Chrom’s supposed demise on the battlefield, Lon’qu and Y/N bonded closer and closer, being the only ones to help each other through the hardest of times. 

The Queen recalled thinking on the day of her wedding with her consort, if she would ever love someone after Chrom, she was lucky it was a friend as kind, caring, and protective as Lon’qu. 

“Should I just say it?” She uttered under her breath, perhaps a little too loudly. 

“Say what?” Chrom asked, raising his left eyebrow inquisitively. 

She gave no response. 

“Y/N, you can tell me anything--- just as before.”

“... I am...” she paused to bite down on her lower lip. “I have a new husband.”

Her reveal relented no reaction other than silence, allowing only the bird’s optimistic song’s fill the courtyard. 

“I see,” Chrom frowned, avoiding her stare. He paused a moment longer as guilt washed over her. “Does he treat you well?”

“Oh Chrom,” her heart raced at his question. “Yes. He was the only one that truly cared for me while I was grieving--- grieving for you. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. For six years, I was only a conductor of business for the health of the Kingdom. I had to rule for the next blood heir of the throne--- our daughter. But.. he was the only one that took notice of my state of being and he... he helped me. I shouldn’t--- I shouldn’t have married him. I should have known you were out there! I should have---”

“Stop,” a sad smile grew back onto Chrom’s lips, as his eyes met with hers once more. “There isn’t a way you could have known,” he assured. “Does he treat the children alright?”

“Of course,” she didn’t hesitate to answer. “They both know he isn’t their father, so they... have a special relationship.” 

“I see,” he nodded. “What’s his name?”

She inhaled sharply. “It’s... It’s Lon’qu.”

[mynameisdreartblog]

Cars 2

Leo: Audi Quattro. Yo, does anyone remember the time where I was buying Ben 10 minifigures from a cash-grab machine at the skewered chicken grill? Damn, you could really see the smoke coming off the grill there, and it was like, situated directly in a corner and accompanied by a window directly in front of it… floor three, wasn't it? Baby, come home… yeah, my thick alligator baby… come home. […] What? Wh-what was that? Ugh, Viz, goddammit: You have something to do with that probably. They’re the only person I know who could alter my subconscious to make me attracted towards plump alligators. <Oro is suddenly interrupted by a steep drop off of an unidentifiable platform; it’s hard to see in the dark atmosphere of the room.> Oof, that was almost as bad as when I got on that kiddie trike and it nearly impaled my taint. There’s no goop dripping off my body, and there’s no sensation that I’m nude either, so I’m not in a Matrix-like situation either. […] Ah, my phone, yes: The communicator. If I’m right, it should be situated in my right pocket, — the one with only one white stripe pattern — and if I turn it on, there should be a background image of Remigio Ángel González as required for opsec in the case that our operations are compromised… <The room Oro is within suddenly lights up, revealing a brick-layered second-floor with a unique and prominent detail.> Forget the phone, the phrase “somos los segundos nefilim” is written all over the walls. I think it’s a weird, religious thing, but the agnostic in me feels it’s related to general flooding, like that you’d find clogging up the pipes. [,] Viz? «Hello, I thought you were writing up a thesis to expose fireworks manufacturers; what gives?» I think my father’s job as a plumber is coming back to haunt me in ways I don’t like: Maybe it’s retribution for plunging that kid into the toilet once… «Cool; I don’t care. Just tell me where you are now so I can get an idea of your status.» Uh, second-floor, religious scrawl on the walls, darkness turned to light, hallucinations of thick alligators, and- <The walls begin trickling water.> Err, I’ll call you back.

Taurus: Maserati 3500 GT. Good morning, how can I interest you at all in- Good Lord! I could tell immediately that you’re spiritually exhausted: If it wasn’t obvious, your face looks like it was peeled off like the skin of a potato. «Uh, what does that mean? I’m coughing up something funny here, big guy, and I don’t have time to deal with the metaphors.» Oh no, don’t get me wrong; You came into my establishment not for the purpose of nutritional sustenance, but rather the mystical services I offer on the back of the sign. «Is that sexual implication?» Can you believe the degradation of this man’s morale? Do you wanna look through my Zen Cat calendar until you feel an improved fighting spirit? «I am the governor of the state of Goa, and this is the treatment I receive from shop-owners in the north? I was nearly killed just making it… Oh no, he caught the tone-switch.» <Gresham leaves a pillow for the weary man who claims he’s the governor of Goa, leaving him with the Zen Cat calendar that he didn’t request.> [,] «Did he notice the façade, or did he actually buy it? If I just stay here, admire the atmosphere, and pretend I’m hurt in some way, he’ll still buy my story. That titan of a man can’t know that I work for the CWW or that he’s wanted by th-» Heh, sorry about that, I was trying to look for that Zen Cat calendar ‘cause I thought you needed it, but apparently you’ve had it with you the entire time. Silly me: I always forget that there’s spare calendars below the restaurant calendar. <The CWW agent breathes with relief and continues pretending to be the sickly president of Goa: Offended attitude from poor service still maintained.> Your condition clearly hasn’t improved much since I left to aid: This is a healing that’ll require a lot more than simple yoga. Your atman (true self) is still locked away behind many layers of grief and domestic malnourishment which keep you hindered back to cycles that have washed you away. This isn’t a naturality according to my senses, and must be the work of minor demons attempting to prod at your well-being. Natuk, bring me the Soma! «<The CWW agent mumbles under his breath> Either this guy is a nutjob, or he plays a really sincere act as a nutjob.» Do you fancy the Zen Cat calendar? I favor the Himalayan cats out of all. «Typical.»

Aquarius: Mini. “Oh, hello. I see you two have come in the corner of Paula’s Sports Cards, and, sorry to say, but if you came here for the tourney sign-up, we’re currently not listing right now. However, we’re making some special deals for you. We also sell Magic the Gathering singles, but they're the really shitty ones that nobody wants."  […] My plan to help these teens outta Magic cards isn't going too well, <Aukai thinks to herself.> «Yeah, whatever, lady. We saw the flyer at the noodle shop and I wanted to fulfill my cardboard crack addiction.» <Aukai contemplates dropping the act of a shady dealer for just a moment, then she returns back to a more aggressive form of the same act.> “Eh, don’t compromise this deal, buster, I only have several, ultra-rare cards stored between my boob wedge, and being dismissive to my game is bound to get you kicked out.” «Just show us the cards and tell us what you’re offering.» [,] Ugh, fine. <Aukai drops the act: The one that had brittle legs to stand on. She then begins to monologue with the cardboard-addicted teenagers as she literally takes the cards out of her bosom.> You know, I was on board on a cruise ship once, — that’s usually not my style; I’m the one manning the ship more often — and I saw this cute magician who blew me away, and I thought imitating her style would help me, but I guess I’m better at this merchant personality when I’m selling ship parts. <The teenagers are thinking if her cleavage possibly damaged the material of the cards, but they don’t question it: They’re battle-hardened players.> «Yo, is that a Judge Foil Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite?» <Aukai reflects on what Tehura told her regarding the basic cultural knowledge of Magic, and she grinned somewhat deviously, knowing that she can present as malicious.> “I could make you cough up $400 for this card, but do you know what’s a better investment than this?” «Literally nothing else, just give us the cardboard crack,» <Said the teenagers in a creepy unison.> Yeah, but teacher-learner skills when it comes to the game are way more important than what cards you can get your hands on. <One of the teenagers breaks the creepy, unison speaking to speak their thoughts.> «Actually, I’m intrigued by what she can offer to us in terms of both real-world and game knowledge. The fact that she was able to get her hands on such cards tells us that she’s more than meets the eye.» <The two other teenagers counteract in unison.> «Shut the hell up; she stores cards in her boobs.»

Pisces: 1948 Tucker Torpedo. “Copulation is just the insertion of an appendage into a bodily orifice for the purpose of expelling a juice containing seed that is absorbed into the body for the purpose of procreation.” I’ll use any disgustingly medical and biologically-existential definition of human biological functions to make me as repulsed by humanity as possible. For the previous time, I attempted to embrace naturality as much as possible by isolating myself from what I perceived as corruptive forces of civilization, but then I found out that I ended up terrifying whoever came along with me, and that I was guilty of several counts of potential assassination, so I had to call that one off. But now, I’m a changed man: I seek to embrace a transcendence beyond my natural form as quickly as possible. […] «Oh, my son Aleep? Yeah, he’s in one of those moods again where he tries to see if he can flex himself beyond humanity. I don’t get it, and I think it’s the corruptive influence of too much television and tinkering around with electronics that’s getting to him. I preferred his older hobbies of ambitious poetry, but now, I don’t know what he’s doing anymore.» I can hear your valid criticisms, mother! The walls in this house are made out of cardboard and so are my feelings! «He likes to engage in these dramatic monologues or whatever, and he’s saying it’s leading up to some “connective truth” as he calls it. He’s a bright young man, but he’s kinda flippant.» <Only silence can be heard from the upstairs room where Aleep stays. It’s like this for a good two minutes, and Aleep’s mother assumes he’s busy and likely didn’t hear the continuation.> I seek to busy myself in the virtual world since my mother is already occupied with introducing a false image of me to her regular guests; they probably think I’m so gross hermit, when the truth is that I’m a well-kempt hermit. The boys at my gym class thought that my locs were sexy, and that’s all the confidence boost I needed for the week. […] I look around my abode and I see nothing but human unnecessariness: The floors are covered in years of shedded skin, rolling around as it were a wasteland, and the windows are marred with the remnants of oils excreting from the human hand. It disgusts me, and I see it fit that only the world of human exclusion can save me now… Olligestaia, here I come. <The Olligestaia theme starts playing from cheap speakers.>

[adangerousbond]

The Garden can Break the Greenhouse

I think this will be about 2 chapters all up, I have a few other stories I have been trying to work on and start but there are very few stories for Reade/Zapata, so I needed to write my own in the mini break.

Read below or at FF.net // AO3

Enjoy!

There had been multiple times throughout this mission that she had been unsure if she would succeed; the moment she had realised just how hard it would be to walk away from everyone, when she had watched the entire room around her fall to the ground, unsure if she was going to be next, confronting Reade in his apartment and more recently when she had been kidnapped and interrogated by fake CIA agents, all because Madeline got a little unsure of her, but this time felt different, because at least if she had not survived, she had won.

Slumping down against a crate, she closed her eyes for a moment in an attempt to make the dizziness disappear, her fingers sticky and wet from the blood seeping through her shirt and her ears pounding as she breathed through the pain. She had left Madeline in a room that she knew her team would find her, having had gone after the last of the older woman's helpers, knowing full well that it would take her away from the possible route out of the building that had been rigged to blow in a time frame that was too short for her to do much.

Opening her eyes, Tasha glanced towards the doorway she had come through, the pool of blood from the man she had shot a lot larger than when she had last looked and the realisation that she had been down longer than she had realised kicked in, her limited time was disappearing quicker than she could think.

Pressing as firmly as she could into the wound on her side, she ignored her body's complaints and forced herself up, she had come to far and given up too much to not at least try to get out. Her vision was blurring more with each step she took but she continued towards what she believed was the opposite direction of where the bomb had been placed; Madeline's last line of defence, if all else was lost the woman would get some solace in bringing everyone else down with her too.

Rounding a corner, she heard what sounded like footsteps coming closer to the room she was now in, unsure if it was her mind playing tricks or not, she paused to listen, her answer coming as the door opened and a gun pointed through. Raising her gun shakily towards the approaching figure, with a sudden hint of survival kicking in to cover the lack of strength, her brain barely registering the friendly face as they lowered their weapon and rushed towards her.

"Tasha?!" Reade breathed a sigh of relief, concern quickly taking over as he saw she was struggling to stand. Wrapping an arm around her, he took her weight as he led them back out the way he had come in, his other hand holding his gun tight ready to protect them.

Leaning against him, she actually felt safe for a moment, as she focused on keeping up the quick pace he was making them go, both knowing full well that they needed to be out of the building already. A hint of hope rose in the back of her mind, hope that she might actually get out of this mission alive, but it was quickly replaced by the fear that she might get them both killed.

The answer to her question came moments later as he pushed them through a door a few moments later and the bright sunlight hit her face. He continued his path towards an ambulance in the distance, as she glanced over to her former team, locking eyes with Madeline for a moment and nearly stumbling at the ice in her stare, breaking away she caught the mixture of questioning and disapproving looks from the team, even in her state she could tell Reade was ignoring the same looks, something that she tucked away and hoped she would remember later.

As they close enough to the ambulance that the paramedics saw her, she was quickly surrounded by people ready to help but Reade seemed focused on getting her to the vehicles stretcher before he let her go. The distinct sound of the building exploding ripping through the relief that had fallen over then the moment they had made it to the vehicle, Reade holding its back door in a manner to shield them from any debris from the building as they watched it crumble from the force.

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

She barely remembered the ride to the hospital, waking a while later to the beeping, busy noise and sickly clean smell that could only be one place. Opening her eyes, she glanced around the white room, attempting to sit up without getting caught up in the cords connected to her body, her actions catching the eye of a nurse walking by, who smiled quickly at her before hurrying off, most likely to fetch someone to talk to her.

Her suspicions of the nurse were right when a man and woman in doctor's coats entered, followed by a blank Reade. She was surprised to see him there and it made her wonder if it was to take her into custody once given the all clear, he had made it clear that she was simply an asset and her only usefulness was catching Madeline, which she had done; she didn't have Keaton to get her out of a black site anymore, so CIA or FBI; it didn't make much of a difference to her.

"Miss Zapata, I am glad to see you are awake." The male doctor spoke, the way he seemed to be keeping his distance off her bed not lost on her and she had to wonder if they thought she was law enforcement or the enemy.

"Guess I lived." She stated nonchalantly, making eye contact with Reade for a moment before picking up the cup in front of her as an excuse to look away.

"Are you happy for us to update you with Agent Reade in the room? We can do this more privately if you prefer." The doctor spoke again softer than before, noticing the interaction between the two.

"It's fine." She stated, placing the cup back on the tray in front of her, as she wondered if the fact she wasn't handcuffed was a good sign.

"You had a small gunshot wound to the abdomen, not much more than a graze that we patched up, along with a couple other cuts and bruises that you'll need to keep an eye on, we stitched up the more serious ones. The bigger issue is that you were dehydrated and malnourished, which was making your wounds make you weaker than they should, but we have you on an IV full of much needed nutrients and your hydration levels are much better." He rattled off the basics of her injuries to her as she watched him hold himself back, clearly wanting to ask questions but knowing better than too.

"I would also like you to have a chat with our counsellor before you go." The female doctor spoke up, clearly going against a decision the two of them had decided upon before coming into her room.

"Why?" She asked a lack of anything to her tone that she then realised probably didn't help her situation.

"Well, your displaying clear symptoms of being held against your will and of being tortured, pretty seriously by what I've seen, so I would like you to at least have a quick chat with them first." The concern about her welfare evident on the doctor's voice, but Tasha couldn't help but feel it would dissipate if she knew the things she had done.

"When am I leaving, by the way you two talk it sounds as if I am being discharged pretty soon?" Tasha questioned, ignoring the statement and any questions it brought with it as she glanced at the small group at the end of her bed.

"We have a plane waiting to go back to New York." Reade spoke authoritively and his reason for being there dawned on her, he was only there to escort her to the ride home; or to a dark hole, she still wasn't sure which it would be.

"I would prefer if you stayed a little while longer, at least to keep an eye on your wounds." The other woman spoke, dropping her other issue for now. "But we cannot force you to stay."

"If you choose to leave, we will give you some medication for the pain and to try to stop infection, and some supplies to change the bandages if needed, but I would highly suggest going into a hospital as soon as your stateside." The male doctor explained further, the appearance of her having a choice nearly making her laugh, if only they knew the whole story.

"I'll be fine, changed a few bandages in my time." She stated, pretending to have made the decision all on her own, but they were right and the bruises on her wrists would really hurt if the handcuffs went back on.

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

Stepping out of the room a little while later having changed into the now clean clothes that she had come in with, bar her shirt that they had cut open, but having been given one of the hospitals light green scrub shirts to wear instead, she definitely felt more refreshed than she had in the last few weeks.

"Ready?" Reade spoke coldly, as if he was here for a job and that was it; which she supposed he was.

Tasha nodded in response, handing the clipboard she was holding to a nurse at the nurses' station as they started their way to the elevator. The coldness between them hurting, but she pushed it down, knowing she had hurt him more and it had been her choice, so she didn't deserve anything but.

Their silence continued in the drive to the airport, only interrupted by a call coming through midway there, the silence returning as quickly as the call ended. As they approached the hanger, she wasn't sure if she should be worried or thankful that they had a private jet waiting for them, the unanswered question about her fate slowly eating away at her.

Following behind him quietly, at the very least she knew that was all she could do at the moment, choosing that it was safer to prepare for the worst than to hold on to the slither of hope. She took the stairs to the plane slowly, ignoring the way he waited at the top as to ensure she didn't try to run and hated that she couldn't read if he was impatient or concerned as she past him and made her way to a seat.

Curling in against herself, she sat in a seat next to a window silently, letting the other members of a team she was once a part of move around the plane, only stopping what they were doing as the plane moved towards the runway and then took off, soaring towards its destination and potentially towards her hell.

"How are you feeling?" Patterson asked as she sat opposite her, breaking her train of thought as the concern from her once close friend brought a tinge of hope.

"Been better." She responded with a weak smile, turning to face her and watching as Rich sat next to her, the two looking as if they were about to start an interrogation of their own kind.

"We got Madeline red handed, HCI Global won't come back from this." The blonde stated getting down to business.

"Good." At least it hadn't ended up all being for nothing, that was something she could hold on to where ever she ended up.

"Why?" Her old friend asked, her question drawing the other occupant to the conversation, as Reade made his way over, having no choice but to sit on the spare seat next to her.

"Why?" Tasha questioned the question, not sure which part of it the why referred to.

"Why did you agree to it?" Rich brought up the first question the group seemed to have for her.

"It's not like he had anyone else lining up to do it, I couldn't exactly turn it down." She tried to explain, but this group was FBI through and through, they had never understood why she had gone CIA and so she couldn't expect them to understand why she had been prepared to give up everything, including her job at the CIA for it.

"Was it because we weren't talking and you two were barely talking?" Patterson got right to the question that had been eating at her, wanting to understand her mindset.

"I won't lie," She started, her comment gaining a huff from the man next to her, "It helped me agree to it in the first place, but when it started, us all being friends again made walking away the hardest thing I have ever done."

"Yet you did it anyway. You left without a word and joined forces with our enemy." The blonde argued, the hurt that she had and was still feeling evident in her tone.

"Even to my standards, that's not right." Rich spoke up, trying to cut through with tension that was filling up the small plane quickly.

"You could have just told us." Reade near repeated the words he had told her when he had her in the FBI just over a week prior.

"I couldn't risk it." Tasha told him sadly, knowing how the words sounded the moment she said them.

"Risk what, we were your team." The were in his sentence cutting the deepest, she knew they weren't a team anymore, but it still hurt to be reminded.

"I had to go deep Reade, I couldn't have any outs, it was all or nothing." She tried explaining from a different angle, she knew they all had their own thoughts as to why she had done it the way that she had and that they were all still hurt by those reasons.

"All you needed to do was tell us enough that we would have known you weren't betraying us, we wouldn't have sold you out." He fired back, bringing trust back into it, because if there was anything that this team had survived on it was trust.

"If I told you and anything went wrong, if I failed I wouldn't have forgiven myself. I couldn't risk anything, and if I succeeded and you guys didn't forgive me that was a something I would have to live with." She told him softly, knowing he had every right to feel the way he did but she hadn't had the choice, after everything she had done, this mission had been the very least she could offer, no matter the cost.

"And if it went wrong, what, we would have just never known the truth?" Patterson asked, anger flaring up in her tone as she listened to the reasoning and knew that it had been a very real possibility.

"Keaton promised he would tell the team the truth if it went bad." The brunette responded, the sentence sinking in as the group realised that it was an outcome that she had not only understood but had had a plan for as well.

"Then why come to me that night." Reade broke the silence, all eyes flying to him the moment he spoke. Looking around the group she knew the other two had at least some understanding that they had crossed a line, but they hadn't quite known how far over the line they had gone and the other two was just as surprised as she was that he was bringing it up now.

"I know I shouldn't have, it was selfish, but like I told you, I thought I would never see you again." She stared him down like she had in the interrogation room, needing him to know that as much as she had lied and hurt him, that her feelings were real and that she hated hurting him.

"You also told me that you always loved me, but I guess just not enough to tell me the truth." He threw her words back at her, both of them ignoring the way Rich was watching them as he was watching a day time soap show.

"You and I both know I would have ruined us anyway." She sighed, a lone tear escaping as she droped his eye contact as and wishing he would drop the topic for a time more private, but also glad that he was somewhat prepared to talk to her and that he had clearly confided in Patterson, who was watching the two with a sad expression, having had conversations with both, she understood that they were both in pain.

"How is it you keep making that choice for me?" Reade used a previous conversation against her once more and like before, not really expecting her to answer that statement.

"How about we stop there before someone says something they can't take back?" Rich spoke up, starting to get a touch uncomfortable, confrontations; especially those in a confined space, were not at the top of his list for enjoyable situations.

"Oh, we have said way worse to each other." Tasha couldn't help but joke, her words dropping the group back into silence.

"Where's Jane and Weller, are they okay?" Tasha asked after a while, feeling comfortable enough in the group to start asking her own questions.

"Chasing up a lead for Jane." Rich responded without thinking, his answer drawing an inquisitive look from the brunette and a sharp glare from the man opposite him. "And I've said to much."

She knew better than to push her luck on the subject, clearly there was going to be things that she would miss and they all barely seemed to tolerate her, let alone trust her with information on the two main members of the team, but it still hurt. Watching Rich get up and head towards the planes far corner where his laptop lay waiting, Tasha realised that he was distancing himself before he said anything further.

"Wait." She spoke up as Reade moved to stand as well, her request gaining a glare, but he remained seated none the less, as she got the courage to ask the question haunting her the most. "What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not handing you over to the CIA if that's what you're worried about." His words didn't answer her question fully, but they gave her a glimmer of hope, something that was quite dangerous to her right now.

"What then?" She pushed further, she mightn't have the right to push about anything else, but she knew this was the one topic that no one could blame her for wanting an answer to.

"Well they are going to want to debrief you and as Keaton is still unconscious and though Claudia backed you up to me, she might not be so forthcoming with them, but for the mean time you'll remain in FBI custody, might even set you up in a safe house if it comes down to it." He explained, trying to sound as if he was talking to any other informant but the three of them knew that he was bending his power as deputy director.

"Really?" Tasha asked, hope slipping into her tone for the first time in a long time and she couldn't stop the small smile crossing her features.

"Well the end result was beneficial to the FBI, least we can do is make sure you don't get thrown into some dark hole." He reasoned to everyone, including himself, as he looked down to give himself a chance to school his features.

"Thanks." She responded, relief pushing aside her pain for a moment as she suppressed the urge to hug him, knowing that that action would not be well received.

"We should probably go over some key points before they get a chance to brief you though, like for starters, were the doctors correct when they said that you had been tortured recently?" He switched back to a line of conversation that he was in control of.

"Yes." She answered too coolly, the only sign that the question even bothered her was the way that she pulled her legs a bit closer, even though the action would cause her pain.

"Who?" Patterson spoke up for the first time in a while, the news surprising and concerning her, she knew it hadn't been an easy mission, but this was something else.

"They grabbed me when I was supposed to meet Del Toro, pretended to be CIA or were CIA working for Madeline, but they tried to get me to admit that I was undercover, all I knew was that if I told either option the truth they would have killed me." Tasha started explaining calmly as if it was not her story she was telling.

"Guess you held out." Reade responded coldly but watching her closely non the less.

"Reade!" Rich's voice rang out from over his laptop screen, clearly requesting his presence with what he had been working on.

"We will pick this up later." Reade stated as he rose and walked away from them, Patterson following closely behind, only pausing at another seat to grab a blanket which she then passed it to Tasha.

Folding the blanket into a makeshift pillow, she placed it on the window, figuring she might as well attempt to sleep or at the very least pretend to, to allow her a quiet flight as she knew that they would all leave her alone if rest and right she had to process the last couple of days. She just wished that she could be 100% certain that they would be able to protect her from the CIA, Keaton had been the only one who would have been able to talk them down and even though her mission had succeed, she knew that the CIA would be unhappy with the way she had dragged their name through the mud.

[queen-scribbles]

Worth a Shot

For @pillarspromptsweekly #39. Another Roll for It, I got Woedica/Leaden Key/dank spores for my elements, so it was clearly meant to be another installment of the Taviloth Leaden Key Hunt AU, yes? 

The hope of there being anything left by the time she made it back was minuscule, but Tavi still felt a rush of disappointment when the ruined temple was empty of all traces kith had been there. Even knowing it was long odds at best, part of her had hoped the Leaden Key had been sloppy in their haste to abandon the temple. Left something behind to serve as a clue. It had taken several very careful months to find the man they’d chased in here and if there was no lead to be found after him, she was going to swear. This was a big temple, surely they hadn’t gotten everything.

Except they had. At least in the rooms she found. The lack of dust was the only sign kith had been here in years. Tavi kicked the wall in frustration.

Fucking godsdamned Leaden Key, she groused. They’d even reset the traps on their way out. Maybe  that was why the hair on the back of her neck kept prickling; not knowing where danger might lurk. Just because all the ones she’d seen had to be manually triggered didn’t mean that was the case for all of them.

But then the nerves grew stronger as she stepped out of the room she’d been searching. Tavi rested her hand on the hilt of one sabre. There was no one in sight. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

The soft brush of footsteps against stone behind her confirmed her suspicions. My gut’s never been wrong before; no reason for it to start now. She gripped the sabre’s hilt, drawing it as she turned--

Aloth caught her wrist before she had the weapon more than halfway unsheathed. “You’re awfully jumpy for someone who assured me she could handle this on her own.”

Tavi wrinkled her nose at the amusement in his voice. “And you’re awfully upright for someone who assured me he’d rest.” She resheathed the sabre. “And bein’ jumpy is part of why I can handle this on my fuckin’ own.”

Aloth cocked his head in acknowledgement of both her points. “I got bored. And you know I have the utmost faith in your instincts. Have you found anything yet?”

She shook her head. “Not a thing. I was gonna check the other levels, see if they missed anything. I’m assumin’ you bein’ here means your research went about as well?”

He nodded, falling in step behind her with only a slight grimace. “You would be correct. There’s no record to be found of this temple, not even its construction. It’s as if it doesn’t exist.”

“Well, then I guess we know which god it’s for,” Tavi said sardonically, opting to  check the upstairs first. “Need me to carry you up, city slicker?”

Aloth rolled his eyes. “I’m not an invalid, Tavi, just healing.”

“Which is why I was supposed to be doing this while you stayed in bed.” She noticed him biting his lip as they mounted the stairs and silently linked her arm with his for support. “So you didn’t rip out the fuckin’ stitches.”

“If I wasn’t here, I’d just be pacing the room waiting for you. This seemed more productive.”

“I do have to admit to bein’ impressed you made it through the jungle by yourself,” Tavi commented idly as she opened the first door with a fair amount of caution.

“I’m very stubborn,” Aloth returned. “When I want to be.” 

Tavi shot him a bemused look. “Shit, I know that, city slicker,” she chuckled, scanning the room. Empty. No furniture or anything. Except... “Stay here, I think I see something...”

Aloth squeezed her hand before letting go. “Be careful.”

Tavi nodded and grunted acknowledgement as she moved across the room toward a spot where one tile sat slightly deeper in the wall that those around it. Fully aware it could be nothing--or a trap--she gingerly felt around the edges of the tile until one corner wiggled. She pried it loose and peered into the small space it had concealed. Inside lay a small piece of damp paper and a tarnished medallion on a leather cord. The paper was near-illegible and written in some language she didn’t recognize, and the necklace was etched with a spiraling design. Tavi collected them both and returned to Aloth.

He took the paper carefully and stared at it a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll need better light to be able to read this.”

“This seems like junk, too,” Tavi said,shaking the necklace. “So that was a waste.”

“I never said this was useless,” Aloth corrected, gingerly holding the paper. “I’m fairly certain this script is Engwithan, but I can’t read it well enough in this poor light.”

“Ah. Well, let’s check the rest of the place and get back to our room so you can have your better light.” She tucked the necklace in a belt pouch and proceeded down the hall with caution.

The few other rooms on this level were all clear, except for one where a wall had collapsed and filled the room with rubble. All were empty of anything that might have been useful. The Leaden Key here had done a better job covering their tracks than the ones in Defiance Bay, though Aloth did find faint bloodstains in the hall.

“I’m fairly certain these are faint from scrubbing rather than age,” he said as he pointed them out to Tavi, one hand absently pressed against his side.

“Not going to ask how you know the difference,” she chuckled, crouching down and tracing the edges with of the stains with her fingertip. “Think someone pissed off the cell leadership or...?”

“If it was an execution, they likely would have been killed somewhere more private,” he said, hand still rubbing his injured side. “But a crime of passion doesn’t fit the Leaden Key, either...”

“You alright, city slicker?” she interjected to his train of thought. “This is why you were supposed to fuckin’ rest.”

“It’s just sore,” Aloth muttered, pulling his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re also a terrible liar,” Tavi said fondly. “But I’ll let it slide ‘cause I like your company. And I’d rather be able to keep an eye on you than worry you got bored and did somethin’ stupid.” She raked hair back from her face. “But gettin’ back to what you were sayin’...”

“Oh, all I can surmise is this was someone who failed badly enough to be disposed of without delay, and the Leaden Key then cleaned up as part of their efforts to obscure their presence here.”

“That sounds like guessing, Corfiser,” she teased as she straightened.

“It is,” he admitted frankly. “I don’t know everything, Tavi.”

“Just damn close to it,” Tavi laughed, which turned to concern when he bit his lip and rested one hand against the wall briefly for support. “You sure you’re okay? It looks like they cleared out pretty thoroughly; I doubt we’re gonna find anything. We can go back to the inn-”

Aloth shook his head. “I’ll be fine. There’s still another level to check.”

“Which I can do by myself,” she countered. He did look like he was fine--not pale or swaying or anything--but she knew how bad ‘soldiering on’ with an injury like his could hurt. “I am more stubborn than you, city slicker, I will win.”

He sighed and shot her a mischievous look. “Only because I know you’ll just carry me out if you get too worried.”

“Damn straight I will,” Tavi nodded. “But I’ll hold off for now. Let’s check the lower level and then even if I do have to carry you, we’re going back to the inn so you can rest.”

“I agree to your terms,” Aloth said, smiling slightly.

“Good, I won’t have to persuade you,” Tavi winked, and headed back for the stairs.

-o-

They were halfway down the ramp that led to the lowest level before the reek of damp grew overwhelming.

Tavi spun around to face Aloth. “You’re waiting upstairs.”

“Tavi-”

“Aloth, you have not one but two--albeit bandaged wounds, the last place you need to be is somewhere that smells like a fuckin’ swamp.” She took his hands in hers, thumb rubbing over the bandages covering one of said wounds. “Me wading through brackish water or muck will be bad enough. I probably won’t be long; if it’s nasty down there, I doubt they used it much.”

He didn’t look particularly convinced, but acquiesced all the same. “...Fine. Just be careful.”

“Will do.” She’d keep that promise, largely because the last thing she needed was him getting worried and following her. Everything in the lowest level was coated generously in slimy green muck, and an inch or two of stagnant water covered the ground. Tavi wrinkled her nose at conditions and smell both as she lit a torch and started poking around. It was just a cursory look; she wasn’t expecting to find anything useful down here with the awful state of things. That was probably why she all but walked into the dank spore growing in the corner.

Oh, shit. She yelped and out of pure instinct shoved the torch dead center into the plant’s head. It turned out to be a very lucky move; the spore was smaller than most, and sickly malnourished, so it collapsed on itself with nothing more than an angry screech. The awful reek of burning plant slime joined the other wonderful odors filling the space, and Tavi coughed as she debated whether to retrieve the torch or deal without it. There’s enough light I could probably manage...

“Tavi?!” Aloth’s voice floated down, very worried, and she winced at the realization of just how loud she’d yelped.

“I’m fine, city slicker!” she called back. “Just startled myself, s’all. I’ll be up in a minute, you stay put.” She didn’t wait for his reply to filter down before resuming her examination of the chamber. It wasn’t big; long-fallen debris filled the only doorway out. Her search turned up massive quantities of sludge, five different varieties of fungus--and one dead body.

The man was still recognizable as the one she and Aloth had been pursuing the day before. A jagged wound split his throat,  and any hint to his identity or allegiance was gone, but this was definitely their quarry.

“Someone got in trouble,” she whispered, singsong, thinking of the bloodstains upstairs. Probably on account of them, which she couldn’t muster any remorse for.

A faint whisper of the man’s essence lingered still, to Tavi’s surprise, and she reached for it.

Triumph turned to dismay at the Acolyte’s stern posture.

Failed. We have to leave the temple, but you can remain. You will remain. The warm spill of blood seeping into darkness.

Ewan...

The name burned into Tavi’s mind, free of context, as she jolted out of the man’s last moments. Well that was helpful, she thought sarcastically.  Time to go back to Aloth, admit defeat, and head for the inn so she could make him get some fucking rest. They could debate if any of the--pitifully few--things they’d found were important, if ‘Ewan’ was worth looking for, and anything else that came to mind then.

Aloth was not waiting at the top of ihe ramp when she made it back out. He’d wandered a short way down one of the halls, and was staring thoughtfully at a mural of Woedica’s crown daubed onto the wall. He glanced over at the echo of Tavi’s footsteps. “May I see that medallion you found?”

“Sure.” She fished it out as she joined him and handed it over. “You find somethin’?”

“Possibly.” He slid the pendant off the cord. “There’s an indentation here...” A nod at the mural, “that’s the same size and shape. I’m wondering...”

Tavi watched with interest and no small amount of pride as the medallion fit perfectly in the spot he’d indicated. “Good call.”

“Thank you,” Aloth replied with a smile. “Now to see what it does, if anything.”

“It would have to, wouldn’t it? Otherwise, what’s the fuckin’ point?” she said, running her fingers through her hair.

“Mm.” He pressed the medallion and it sank further into the wall with a clunk. Behind them, a section of the wall slid away, revealing a shrine overseen by a statue of Woedica and flanked by a pair of braziers.

“Well, that’s something,” Aloth murmured, absently flexing his injured wrist as the two of them approached the shrine.

“These are still warm,” Tavi said. She held her hand over one brazier and let out a triumphant whoop. “They were burnin’ paper!”

“Don’t get excited until we know if any of it is legible,” Aloth cautioned, but he was grinning, too.

Most of it wasn’t, but they salvaged what they could. It was some level of hope, anyway, that they weren’t at a complete dead end. That alone cheered Tavi immensely.

“Alright, we’re done here,” she said, plucking the medallion from the wall after they were both clear of the shrine. The wall ground closed seamlessly. “Now for the sitting around to put puzzle pieces together stage.”

“My favorite,” he replied glibly.

“Right now it’s mine, too,” she retorted as they made their way out of Woedica’s temple. “B’cause it’ll mean you actually sittin’ still like you’re supposed to.”

Aloth laughed, but at least had the decency to blush, his ears twitching downward briefly. “For as long as you want me to,” he promised.”

“I’m holdin’ you to that,” Tavi warned, reaching for his hand as they made their way down the exterior steps. “I want you around for a good long while, Corfiser.”

“And I have no intention of going anywhere,” he replied, grip tightening when he faltered on the last step, tripping over a broken paving stone.

Tavi smiled and tugging his arm around her shoulders, hinting, “To that end...”

Aloth may have rolled his eyes a little, but he did let her help him. At least through the jungle. They’d drawn enough attention to themselves yesterday.

-o-

Their salvage proved a tricky puzzle to piece together, and both were streaked with soot and ash up to the elbows before they were able to make any sense of it. Said sense being that most of the fragments they’d rescued were written in Engwithan, rendering Tavi largely useless. The few things that weren’t were just lists of names, with no indication if they were members, targets, or something else entirely. Further complicating matters, when Aloth got the other scraps translated, they proved to be gibberish. It was clearly a cipher, but without the key word or phrase, that knowledge was about as useful as spoiled provisions.

“Fuckin’ bazzos,” Tavi spat darkly, slouching in her chair, smudging soot up her forehead when she raked her bangs out of her face. “Fuck the Leaden Key, fuck them and their secrecy to Hel and back, this is sciòderie.“ She glanced sidelong at Aloth and her ears dipped as she clarified, “Former members excepted, of course.”

“What a relief,” he deadpanned with amusement rife in his voice. She briefly considered throwing something at him, but there was nothing in reach, so she settled for a dirty look, which made him laugh. “This is still better than nothing, Tavi.”

“Is it, though?” she shot back, rubbing at the soot smudges on her forehead. “It’s still essentially fuckin’ nothing, but gets us so damn close before bein’ fuckin’ nothing which is infuriating.”

“If we ever find one of their cipher keys, we can at least try it and may have something.”

She snorted, wiping her hand on her pants. “Yeah, like they’re gonna leave that lyin’ around. Prob’ly be more likely to brick it up inside a wall- What?”

Aloth held up one hand in a ‘Wait’ gesture and pushed up from the table fast as he dared. He crossed to the dresser and retrieved the scrap of paper she’d found with the medallion. “Bricked in a wall, like this was?”

Tavi blinked, then grinned. “Corfiser, you’re a fuckin’ genius.”

He smiled but shook his head slightly. “Perhaps save the praise for when we know if I’m correct.”

“Fine. It’s worth a shot.” Her grin widened when it did indeed prove to be the proper cipher phrase once translated. “Told ya. Fuckin’ genius.Let’s get this worked out.”

“Let’s,” Aloth agreed, and the two of them stayed up far into the night, slowly decoding the scraps of Leaden Key records in hopes of finding something useful.

It might be long odds, but like everything else on this quest of theirs, it was worth a shot.

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

Y’know what I love writing? Stuff where both halves of my otp get to show off their strengths. :3

[anal-2-aristotle]

The Hero’s Bane- Chapter 2

5,000 years after The Fall...

Adam hoisted the buck's carcass off his steed with a humph.

"Ya been busy today, Ads?" Morgan the butcher greeted the young man, wiping his spoiled hands on his already bloody apron. "That's the first buck I've seen this winter!"

"Yeah, I got lucky. Almost crossed into the Ash Woods before I napped him."

"Ash Woods? You were hunting near the creek?!" Morgan lowered his voice, leaning closer to Adam. "You know what lies in those woods..."

"Forgotten bedtime tales, I know. I was careful." Adam dropped the animals body on the butchers counter. "Besides, I said almost."

Morgan stroked his beard, and began rummaging behind the counter. He pulled out a small coin pouch, dropping it next to the carcass. "I'll give you forty gold, only because you brought me a buck. "

Adam nodded in agreement, snatching the pouch. "Understandable, thank you Mr. Morgan!"

"Yeh yeh, get on with ya life. Tell that Dash kid that he needs to show his face a little more! I only saw him once this week!" the butcher hollered as Adam mounted his speckled bay mare.

"Of course, sir!" Adam called back, turning his horse to the outskirts of the village. "You take care as well!"

Dashiell scribbled furiously, scratching out the previous paragraph of writing. Throwing the journal across the room, Dash chewed on the end of the pencil, standing to pace. "If the gods don't kill me, I swear, I'll do it myself." he said to himself.

"If you're going to kill yourself, please do it over something more washable than a white fur rug." Adam's voice said from the door way. "...That was a joke, Dash."

"I'm sorry, I was so caught up in my angst, I forgot to laugh." the younger of the two brothers turned to size up the older one. "Did you get any velvet holly-dew?"

Adam stared down into Dashiell's bright, mossy green eyes. "I don't know, did you look up Mother Natures skirt?"

"You know that I was blessed by her, not cursed, for doing that." Dash pushed his brother back playfully. "I was also a baby, so it wasn't crude."

Adam ruffled Dashiell's dirty gold hair, chuckling. "And she was disguised as a hag."

Dash shoved Adam's hands away, fixing the messy hair. "Back to the pervious question..."

"No, I didn't get the holly-dew. Can't you just, y'know-" Adam wiggled his fingers. "-magic it?"

"It doesn't work like that and you know it!" Dash huffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Adam sighed, unclipping the sword from his belt. His younger brother sat in the kitchen, coaxing a basil plant to grow a little extra sprout.

Ever since Mother Nature had blessed the Griffin family by dousing the youngest child in magic powers, things hadn't been easy. There was the usual harassments for consoling with dark magic, sometimes Dash came home with bruises and cuts. There were calls for false prophesying, even rumors that the Griffins had sold the original baby to the fey in exchange for power. This, of course, was all false. Dashiell Griffin prided himself in being righteous, being able to see the difference in good and evil, as if it were black and white. He helped anyone he could, almost to a fault.

Adam lowered himself next to Dash's chair, watching him interact with the plant.

While anyone should be grateful for a goddess's blessing, Adam always felt like she could've given more. Dash was self-taught. No mage wanted to teach him how to use his abilities, and no college would provide him with books so he could study magic forms. For this, Dash had taught himself little cantrips and growing spells, often accompanied by him soothing the plants with a song. He spent so much time out in the garden, that Adam looked pale and sickly in contrast to Dashiell's olive, sun kissed skin.

The older brother smiled to himself as a little bud sprouted from the pot.

Even though Dash had no teachers, he was still powerful with his magic. When he was happy, the house was usually decorated in Natures Glory's, a rare, glowing flower that was rumored to be touched by Mother Nature's lips. When he was angry, Adam would find himself pulling out thorns from the Sword Rose bushes that covered the bedroom. When he was sad, Adam would see Weeping Ivy dripping its sap onto fresh laundry. The plants lived in tune with Dash and his emotions, going as far as to protect him from hungry tiller wolves, rabid beasts that would eat their own pups if they were hungry enough.

"You're staring again."

Adam was snapped from his thoughts, focusing on his younger brother. "Oh, sorry, I was thinking."

"That's dangerous." Dashiell jested lightly, picking off some basil leaves. "Are you worried?"

"Worried?"

"You're 25 this year."

The hunt. One of the greatest ways to die, one would say. All hunters of the age 25 or older were to be lined up every 10 years, in every village, for the gods to choose who was worthy of joining the dead. It was never part of the plan, to die. It just happened when you send mere mortals after a fallen god. Only one person ever made it back alive, and she hadn't said a word since.

Adam felt his stomach drop. "Oh, yeah."

"You think The Victor of Heroes will pick you for the hunt?"

"You think they won't?" Adam scoffed playfully. "I'm one of the best hunters this north of Dalem! I'd be wounded if they didn't!"

"Yeah." agreed Dash slowly. "You think your party will get the fallen Bane of Heroes this year?"

"I'm sure of it. With the eons that have passed, and the silvron cuffs that drain him, I know he will be too weak to even put up a real fight!"

When the younger of the two didn't respond, Adam shook his shoulder. "Hey, I'll be fine if they pick me."

Dash looked away. "Yeah, I know that but... I just, it feels wrong."

"What does?"

"I've been having these dreams-"

"Not the dreams again, Dash." Adam stood up from his chair, shaking his head.

"But listen! I keep seeing someone, this- this man, wounded and beaten, begging for mercy and justice-"

"It's the Bane of Heroes trying to get in your mind! You know he does dark magic like that!" Adam raised his voice, shoving off Dash's outstretched arm.

"I do know, but what if Grandmother Moon is trying to convey something to me-"

"Dashiell, they are just dreams of doubt! I will hear no more of it!"

"Adam, please listen-"

"No! Everyone knows that The Bane of Heroes is a monster, and I will not hear you defend him again!"

"I'm not defending him! I just think-"

"Enough Dash!" Adam slammed his fist on the counter, knocking over the potted basil. With a startling crash, the pot shattered, and Dash was quiet. "If you really are so swayed by dreams, why don't you cross the creek and ask the fallen god yourself?!"

Dashiell opened his mouth, then closed it, defeated. Adam turned to walk up the stairs, when a small voice said; "I will."

Anger and frustration weaving into his words, Adam spat: "Then do it."

With that tension left in the air, Adam excused himself to bed, unaware of his brother stealing his sword and cloak.

Finding the creek was easy for Dash. He had wanted to cross it for so long, curious about the forbidden forest that laid out of his reach. The moon's belly was full, shinning reflectively on the creeks soft running water.

Now that he was here, now that there was nothing stopping him from crossing the water, he couldn't move. The ashy colored trees across the creek beckoned to him with their thin, naked branches, swaying in the winter wind. Snow began to fall, dressing the ground in white. It was now, or never.

Dash splashed quickly to the other bank, the cold water pushing him to move faster. Once on the other side, he pulled his stolen cloak around his lean figure and trudged forward. Unsurprisingly, there were no animal sounds as he noisily clunked through the snow. Dash's breath steamed the air, the cold biting his lungs. Stopping to lean on one of the grey trees, Dash felt a tingly sensation of being watched.

He stood up quickly, hand on the swords hilt. "Hello?!"

His voiced echoed, slowly dying out. There was no response, so, like a fool, he tried again. "I'm looking for The Bane of Heroes?!"

This time, he was met with a low growl, followed by a chorus of howls. A thin, malnourished wolf stalked out of the undergrowth, followed by another. And another. And another.

Soon he found himself surrounded by a pack of tiller wolves, each of them eying him like he was the fattest, juiciest cow they had ever laid eyes on.

Gods above, he was going to end up as wolf shit.

What a way to go.

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Hi! Thank You so much for reading. If you enjoyed it was be great if you could share and leave a follow! I'm currently working on a web comic so stay tuned for that!

-Ari

Ao3           Wattpad

[theguardian911]

Oregon man could have faced charges and fine for saving dying bear cub. The U.S. Senate recently voted to make it legal for hunters to kill bear cubs inside of a den, but an Oregon hiker who rescued an abandoned and dying bear cub could have faced charges, jail time and a hefty fine for his act of compassion, which likely saved an ailing bear cub’s life. According to ABC News, Oregon officials have decided to simply give Corey Hancock, the Salem man who saved the three-month-old bear cub on Monday evening, a warning. Sgt. James Halsey explained why Hancock has been given a pass this time around, “Oregon State Police contacted the male subject who picked up the bear cub. Due to the totality of circumstances, to include that the adult male subject thought he was helping the bear cub without knowledge that the mother bear may have been nearby, a criminal citation was not issued to the male subject.” Hancock found the bear cub while he was hiking the Santiam River Trail. When Hancock first found the cub, he explained that the bear was “barely breathing” and motionless. After moving away from the sickly cub, and watching for the mother bear to arrive, Hancock decided to remove the baby because he was not moving, and “twitching.” He stated, “He did kind of twitch a couple times so I knew he was dying or going through the motions of death when I found him.” Hancock bundled the cub into a cozy shirt and rushed him to a wildlife rehabilitation center for care. On March 28, the Turtle Ridge Wildlife Center updated Facebook followers about the bear cub: Update! Yesterday evening we received a malnourished, lethargic black bear cub. The cub, nicknamed “Elkhorn,” received several rounds of sub cutaneous fluids. His hydration and body temperature finally normalized around 2a.m. Nearly 12 hours later, he is showing significant signs of improvement! Elkhorn was transferred to a wildlife veterinarian with Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife where he will have a full health exam, and pending the results, will be placed in the care of an out-of-state center to continue his rehabilitation. The organization commented on this particular situation, and Hancock’s decision to lend aid: It’s recommended to call ODFW or us here at Turtle Ridge if you encounter wildlife you think may need help. This was an uncommon situation and we appreciate Corey for trusting us with the distressed cub’s care. We are also grateful to our amazing community of supporters whose generosity ensures Turtle Ridge Wildlife Center is here to help in emergency situations such as this. (Images via Facebook and Turtle Ridge Wildlife Center FB page)