#to my second I will gift red ropes because she's way too down to murder people

[cor-lapis]

who doesn't like that lady bird

[stardustincarnate]

DANCING IN THE DARK // Light Yagami x Reader

word count : 4992 genre : fluff, crack summary : it’s your birthday, and the yagami siblings have prepared some tricks up their sleeve.

a/n : made this for my birthday last year because why shouldn’t i and honestly light is my comfort character. also i keep on saying this but the internet needs more light fluff fics :) and for anyone reading this on their birthday, may you have a wonderful day! <333

"Happy birthday [Y/N]! Thanks for inviting us!"

"Oh Sayu, behave yourself!" Sachiko scolded her daughter who was running in circles around you before hugging you. You shook your head, implying that it's alright. You were close with her anyway. "Happy birthday [Y/N]. We hope you'll like these small presents we got you."

"Thank you! But you shouldn't have.. Really." You blushed. They only clicked their tongues friskily. "Hah! Though that's nothing compared to what Light got you!"

"Oh, where are your parents dear?"

"They're in the kitchen preparing and.. stuffs. Come on in you two before it starts—" You barely even summoned the rain, but there it went, an immediate, hostile rain invaded the city just as you had expected. They quickly stepped inside and before closing the door, you checked it there was anyone—someone in particular— who'd come running to your doorstep. But there wasn't.

"Mr. Yagami's still at work?" Sachiko nodded. "He'd be here by dinner time. I told him to go straight here."

"I understand." You replied meekly and shifted your gaze to the window. "How about Light? Where is he? Is he coming?"

"Of course dear! Why even ask? That boy wouldn't miss it for the world. He should be here in some minutes. He said he was gonna pass somewhere before heading here."

Before you could reply, as if summoned at the mention of his name, came Light casually barging in the front door. You thought he looked more like a thief rather than a prince coming to see his damsel who's not really in distress.

A thief drenched in the rain, that is, holding a bouquet of roses and nicely wrapped boxes of different sizes. He sure got you a lot of presents.

"Light! What did I tell you about bringing a raincoat?" Sayu huffed.

"Haha I said I'd be quick though— and it's fine.. Hello there [Y/N]. Good evening." He ran to you, handing you the presents and bouquet before hugging you tightly, the rainwater on his clothes permeating on yours. Of course you couldn't properly hug him back since your hands were occupied. You merely gave his cheek a peck and he whispered, "Happy birthday [Y/N]," before pulling away with a grin.

"Thank you Light! Although I really appreciate your gifts, what I don't is this." You pointed to your clothes with your lips, looking at them. His grin widened. He anticipated this to happen. "You are soaking wet."

"Yeah. I'll go change clothes. Be right back!"

"It's raining cats and dogs! You're gonna get even more drenched!"

"I already am so that won't matter when I enter the house."

You watched the siblings continue to quarrel. You sighed fondly and handed Light an umbrella. "There ya go. Though you really should've brought an umbrella or raincoat first."

"I'm sorry then, Ma'am." He chuckled. "You should go and change too." And with that, he headed back to his house, three blocks away from yours. Sayu snorted. "I thought he was incapable of being a dummy. Guess that can't be helped."

"I heard that!"

You giggled and put down the presents before going upstairs to change clothes.

Surprisingly when you went down he was already there. Guess you took too long to change. He seemed to be having that kind of conversation with your father. On the other hand, your moms were talking and laughing to themselves. You had no plan of interrupting either of their conversations so you went to Sayu who was idly playing with her hair, sitting on the carpet. As expected, she was full of topics—mostly just about girly stuffs which you didn't really mind— especially her continuously fangirling to that TV actor, Hideki Ryuga. And, well, you actually were too. It wouldn't kill you to fangirl sometimes, right? It went on like that for about some minutes.

A hand being suddenly placed on your shoulder was enough to startle you. You turned around, gazing up to see Light whose brow was raised.

"Oi oi Sayu. Don't brainwash her into joining you and your addiction to that TV star."

"I'm not brainwashing her! I mean, who wouldn't fall for Hideki Ryuga? Right [Y/N]?" She squealed.

"Precisely!" You winked. Light heaved a sigh dramatically as he sat beside you. "Psh. I am more handsome than him, and [Y/N] can attest to that."

"Who says I can?"

"I— whatever. Can't believe you'd choose that actor over me." He huffed and looked at you with disdain.

"Of course I will! Any girl will dump her boyfriend for Ryuga—"

"Hmm. Are you really older now? Or just a thirteen-year-old trapped in that body?"

"Hey! What makes you say that?"

"Nevermind me. Go and join Sayu in her silly fangirling and keep your childish mode activated." He rolled his eyes and was about to stand up, but you clung to his arm and began to act like a cat by playfully rubbing your head against his cheek— which was odd to say the least. He gave you a dubious and irritated glance.

"Oh! Is my Light jelly? My my, you look like a girl on her period, which is kinda adorable."

"Cut it out! Do you mean to say, you on your period?"

You slapped his arm. "I don't act like that during my red days! I certainly don't!"

"Oh yeah because you act way worse than that."

"Augh. You're just jealous! Come onn saaay it! My babyboy is jelly~"

"Good Lord, would you mind cutting it out? If admitting it is gonna make you stop then yes, I am jealous."

He was internally dead. Seeing his reaction made you laugh maniacally (c̶o̶u̶g̶h̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶r̶a̶ ̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶), even getting your parents' attentions.

"Talk about being childish, hah! Babyboy got jealous over an actor~ Ah, you are so adorable that I might even squeeze you to death!"

"Shut up. You're no fun."

"Oh, but you're enjoying this, aren't you babyboy?"

"One more of that ridiculous nickname and I swear I'll kill you."

"BABYBOOOOY~~"

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up!"

"I dare you babyboy!"

He looked severely annoyed when he glared at you and leaned his face closer to yours. He looked like he was going to eat your face rather than kiss you, but then—

"EHEM!"

There went Sayu, whose presence was completely forgotten by the both of you.

"Oh. Would you mind leaving us alone? We need privacy. Kids aren't supposed to see what's next."

"No way! You're taking her all to yourself Light! That's no fair."

"Fair enough since I'm her boyfriend."

"And I'm her bestfriend?!?! You're just her boyfriend. Bestfriends come first before boyfriends!"

Sayu rebuked, clinging to your other arm and pulling you away from Light. He had no rebuttals and only clung to your other arm, keeping you away from Sayu who was also determined to get you away from him. You already knew where this was going.

'Good Lord' you mentally sighed. And yup, there they went, playing tug of war, with you as the rope.

"I came first, so get your ass away from us, Light!"

"You get your ass away from us!"

"No you!"

"HOW ABOUT YOU TWO STICK YOUR DAMN ASSES TOGETHER AND GET THEM AWAY FROM ME?? For the love of heaven, stop!"

"..Err...Sorry." The two Yagamis murmured and let go of you. You three soon heard a chuckle coming from behind. It was your mom.

"While you guys wait for the food, why don't you try out the karaoke? I'm sure you are great singers. Hmm my [Y/N] may be an exception though."

You whined at your mom's comment. You stood up and Light grabbed your arm before Sayu could, giving her a sharp glare. "She's gonna stay with me, got it?"

"Hmph. Fine then. Enjoy it while it lasts, big brother."

She pointed her fingers from her eyes to his before playfully winking at you. You grinned and shook your head as you made your way to the sofa. You had no idea that their exchanged glares had a double meaning to it.

After they finished picking song numbers and it was your turn, Light secretly handed Sayu two eggs, telling her to be careful in handling those.

Yup, he had five eggs—no not including his own and certainly NOT the number of his own—hidden inside his jacket's pockets the whole time.

You three had made it clear that you were the first one to sing even though you were all fully aware that you suck at that. They innocently looked at you when you glanced at them. You eventually entered the numbers and just as you were about to murder your first notes you heard a loud CRACK! You thought something fell somewhere in the kitchen, but then the second CRACK! came. It felt like something fell on top of your head. And you were right.

But you were already too late when you saw egg shells falling down your hair. And they weren't the only thing—

"What in the nine circles of hell is this?! Oi—" CRACK! CRACK! and CRACK!

The last one missed but by the time you were already a mixture of skin and eggs. The worst part was that one yolk was dripping on the right side of your face, and your mouth was opened due to shock at the same time so some of it got inside your mouth. You absolutely hated the smell and worse— you were sticky! You looked at the siblings who then burst out laughing. The adults were too.

"Now that's what I wanna have for breakfast." Light quipped.

"SHUDDAP! Were you guys all on this?!"

They didn't respond. You walked towards the siblings who were now slowly backing away. You scowled and raised your hands, about to touch them, but they scurried away, with Sayu using her brother as a shield.

"I am so gonna get you two! Sayu, why must you betray me?"

"It was Light's idea!"

"Hey no—" The three of you continuously ran in circles in the living room, with them (mostly just Sayu) screeching and frantically flailing every now and then the closer you got.

They were terrified of the egg monster that you were.

"Don't be mad [Y/N]. Did you know that eggs will do wonders for your hair? At least you don't need to go to the salon now."

"I know but it wasn't only my hair! I am so gonna get you, Light, you little ass!"

"Welp there you go [Y/N]! He's all yours!"

Sayu halted and tripped not only her brother but you too since you were accelerating too fast. Light fell on his chest, and you fell on his back, the gooey substance dropping to his jacket. And to make it worse, you nuzzled his hair with your yolk-covered one. He squirmed, panted, and whined ridiculously.

When he regained his strength he immediately wiggled you away from him. He stood up and removed his jacket, but the smell still lingered since his hair and nape were also covered with yolks and egg whites.

"This wasn't part of the plan.. Sayu..."

"Hehehe."

You dramatically threw your hands up and wheezed to get their attention.

"This is very unfair. I just changed clothes and now I definitely need to take a shower to get rid of this yucky smell."

"I may have to as well."

"Are you implying that we'll shower together?"

"Of course not! Unless you want to— but on second thought, no way! I'll go back home and return—"

"Nope, you're not going anywhere. I had it worse than you! You can easily wipe it away."

"But the smell—"

"You'll have to live with that until the party's over, mister."

You glared at him and walked upstairs to straight-up take a shower that took about thirty minutes. Even though you used as many shampoos as you could, there was still a slight smell left. You honestly weren't anticipating that.

As you languidly made your way downstairs you heard the clicking of metals, indicating that they had already started eating without you, the fucking birthday girl. Mr. Yagami had also arrived. Guess you really took too long and missed some tea— if there ever was.

Light glanced at you and gave a smile of mischief. You raised your middle finger but quickly hid it when your mom glanced your way.

No other choice but to sit beside your stinking boyfriend since it was the only vacant seat left. And you couldn't help but laugh when you saw the egg remains there.

"Let's properly start dinner then." Your dad announced. "Huh? I thought you guys had already started."

"We did. But it wasn't official. Of course we won't officially start without the birthday princess~"

"What difference does it make? And really, dad?"

After the prayer you eventually started eating. Just looking at the food already made you feel full and you were sure that you'd soon look like a pregnant woman after eating all those. Of course, there also had to be some entertainment otherwise it wouldn't be a normal dinner for you.

"Few visitors, huh?" Light elbowed you. "Obviously."

"Why didn't you invite the other neighbors?"

"Do I look like I'm close with those vivacious people?"

"Of course not." His grin somehow irritated you. He's doing this on purpose.

You puffed your cheeks. It was true though— you only had limited visitors this year, specifically the Yagami household. Let's just say that they're the only benevolent family in the neighborhood. You weren't really acquainted or interested in befriending your other neighbors and their kids since first of all, they're literally kids. And even though some of them were at the same age as you and Light, you couldn't really vibe with them. You had lots of friends though, but their houses were too far from yours. You could've had invited them too but it was raining cats and dogs. They might get stranded and you weren't really a fan of sleepovers. They did greet you via text earlier. Although, it was still rather saddening.

Both your parents shifted the topic to your university lives, the rankings and all that stuffs, including reminiscing old times, but they weren't comparing. It was all good to them.

"As expected! Your son is number one as always." Your mom smiled to Sachiko. Your dad then butted in, "Oho, I heard [Y/N] once swearing to beat him. Would you let that happen Light?"

"No way." He chuckled. You shook your head. "Watch me do it."

"I've been doing that for years."

"Tch. I was always first but then you stole the spotlight. Be thankful I don't hold a grudge on you." You jested. Him and your parents chuckled in unison.

"The spotlight isn't the only thing I stole from you though."

"Wow, you are capable of being cheesy too?" You coughed to apparently hide your smile and avoided your parents' sly looks. "Yes yes, you stole my heart too Mr. Know-It-All. You were supposed to be my rival but you cursed me."

"Did not. My charms were only being effective."

"Tsk."

"Wow, you two might be the smartest couple I've ever seen! But you know my teacher once told me if two smart people were to collide then it'd be chaotic." Sayu butted in.

"Why is that?"

"Because they'd keep on contradicting each other with their own beliefs and when they get into arguments it'd be super long but very logical. She also said it's not good because there's no contrast between them. They're already perfect and too much perfection isn't good."

They may be some truth to what she said. You and Light exchanged glances, mentally communicating.

"There's a bit of rivalry. Sometimes. And it's rather fun." He replied. You nodded in agreement. "Besides, we're not entirely perfect. Look at your brother, he's very meticulous in mapping out scenarios and good at speculating probabilities. He's the school prodigy. But that school prodigy has a secret. Wanna know what? He dances like a withered vegetable being shaken up in someone's hands." You, except for him, all giggled. But he had a comeback of course.

"I can dance, excuse me. Hiphop just isn't my style. And you know what? Not only does [Y/N] destroy a song's purity, she can never be a match for any sports for me."

You harshly stepped on his foot, earning a loud groan from him.

Dinner went smoothly. You felt like you didn't need to eat for at least three days, however there were still some desserts to eat. The conversation regarding each families' personal matters continued with you being quite invested in it. Then eventually, the 'most' awaited part arrived—they actually saved it for last—wherein they sang you a happy birthday as you made your wish. Who knows what it was? Only you know the answer to that. You blew your candle and they clapped happily. It made you feel like a kid but it was fun. And then you continued to eat. Cake, ice cream—and there were a lot more. For some reason you also requested a bag of potato chips.

And you already felt bad for the horrors your toilet was about to see.

It was the karaoke's time to steal the spotlight, again. You only watched them sing, although a bit out of tune they were clearer better than you completely murdering those notes. You tried ushering Light to sing but he irritatedly responded a no to you for the nth time. There were only two times you heard his singing voice— and damn, he really is a talented man. But it wasn't exactly his main forte so he refused to do it again.

"Let's get drunk too!" You jested, looking at your parents who were now acting like drunk and cheesy teenagers. Welp they had some drinks.

"[Y/N], you know I don't drink." Light shook his head and sighed, sensing an incoming annoyance at the way you were acting.

"Oh? If that's the case then mind you explaining to me why you're still alive because-not-drinking-would-lead-to-dehydration-which-apparently-leads-to-your-death-if-not—"

"You know that's not what—"

"Let's get high on caffeeeeeine insteaaad!! One cup of bullshit and the other crappuccino!"

Your parents glared at you. Your boyfriend was beginning to get highly concerned. "Why is she like this?"

"Perhaps too much coffee is really unhealthy, that's why, son."

"Whaddaya mean coffee? She didn't even drink any! All she drank was milk! Eight glasses every other day! Blame the milk!"

'What did I do to deserve this?'

He thought, and there you went again with your maniacal laughter. If Light and you hadn't known each other he'd definitely think you're a complete psychopath.

"Oh dear! Did I just say that? God, why did I do that? Liiiiiight..." You shook him. "If I ever start acting like that again please stop me."

"You are acting lke that right now. That's not cute. You're not even drunk."

"Quit being a killjoy, I'm enjoying my 'drunk' state. This is an experiment."

"What the hell? You are sober yet you're doing things worse than people who aren't do."

"But it's honestly fun."

"I can't blame you for being so irritatingly childish since it's your birthday, but it's time to stop that. Stop it. Get some help."

"Stop me then. You're the good guy here."

"How can I stop someone so crazy?"

"They say a kiss on the forehead can stop someone doing crazy stuffs.."

"You're only making that up."

"So what if I am? I speak facts. So, go on, please."

He pressed his lips together and thought about it. It was barely visible but you were sure that he's blushing.

"HAHAHAHA! I forgot my babyboy can't kiss without feeling so yucky about it."

"Hush."

"Psh, don't bite on me mate! I'll do the honor then." You were already kissing his forehead the moment he thought about running away. You weren't able to hold back a smirk as you did. He was grimacing the whole time, but he was actually enjoying it. But of course, he'd never let it show.

To 'annoy' him more, you butterfly pecked your way to the tip of his nose. You pulled back at least an inch or two from his face. And to your surprise, he pecked your lips.

It was so light that you thought it felt like hair on your skin. Thankfully your parents and Sayu—or maybe not Sayu—were too busy to give a damn about it.

You wordlessly sank back, face the reddest it could ever get.

"You stay still now."

"Heh... How about one mor—"

"Absolutely not. That's a kiss worth for three months. We had a deal back then, didn't we?"

"I'm starting to regret that deal."

"It was your idea."

"Let's disregard that deal."

"Nope. I gave my word. You did too."

"Oh come on!"

"'Kissing is a waste of time,' you say."

"I take it back!"

"You don't." He chuckled. You elbowed him and groaned.

You then were idly eating more of the chips as you watched your parents dance shamelessly. They began to coax you and Light to do the same because it was your special day after all. You and Light had different opinions about it. And, he was in.

"Why not? Afraid of your true skills being exposed?"

"Why should I be afraid to expose talent? Heck it's just not my liking. Besides, didn't we already dance?"

"Yeah but that was last year on your 18th birthday. You danced with other guys too. So maybe, maybe— just maybe, I only want to solo you right now."

"Wha— pfahahahaha! Did you just say that? Say that again!"

"Ah? No. Nevermind. Forget it."

"Awe sorry. It's just rare to see that side of yours. Hmm, how can I refuse now?" You pressed your lips in order not to laugh at the way he looked, as if he was regretting everything he did in his life. You stood up and offered him your hand, in which he refused to accept since it was his job to do in the first place.

"Oh! But I don't wanna dance here. Let's go to my room. I have an idea." He merely nodded. "Mom, dad, we're just going to go upstairs! In case you'll wonder why we suddenly disappeared."

"Can I come with you? I don't really want to dance or sing with them." Sayu jumped at you. You shook your head and Light spoke on your behalf. "Kids aren't allowed. Let us have our privacy this time."

"—Sorry but he's right. I do have some games you can play for you to pass the time. Or books, over there if that piques your interest. Don't worry, we'll be back quick to make sure you won't be lonely."

"Alright! Thank you!"

"Ah but why not join us here?" Your mom frowned.

"We have some business to do in my room—" That came out vague, but it was too late. Your mildly drunk dad had already replied, "Don't forget the protection, okay?" Leaving you, Light, his parents, and your mom to have that 'What the fuck?' look on your faces.

You two raced to your room nonetheless, quickly locking it. He was surprised to see how much of a mess it was. Mostly just the bed and the heap of completely random things on top of your cabinet. If he's a neat genius, you're the untidy one.

"Do you ever seriously clean?"

"Why clean it when it'll just eventually turn into a mess again? I can work perfectly fine in this state."

He shook his head and picked up a pillow and the bedsheet lying on the floor, but you stopped him before he could lay his hands on your one-hell-of-a-mess bed.

If you two ever do get married someday, the marriage would certainly include a lot of chaotic things and arguments about the chaos you've bestowed upon your damned house.

"I didn't bring you here to be my personal cleaner. Stop that."

"I'm actually doing you a favor???"

"We have other business. Cleaning is uninteresting. As your girlfriend, it's my duty to stop you investing yourself in such a boring activity."

"You're not really much of a good influence, are you? Fine. But I'm gonna do it once we finish anyway."

You snorted and opened the curtains to add a slightly relaxing view to the scene.

The rain hadn't stopped, still hostile and loud. You were lucky your room had a nice view of the streetlight. Though it would've looked better at dusk— more romantic to a lovers' liking when they dance as the sun sets, coating the sky in a mixture of lively, serene colors, with the streetlight slowly coming to life and they wouldn't realize it because they're lost in their own world.

You smiled at the thought. You wanted to do that with Light even though you knew you would never say it out loud— or who knows?

While your boyfriend was looking at the window, you turned on your lamp and the purple LED lights you had hanging on the walls and turned off the ceiling light. The room was then turned to a dull purple one. But it looked better than before—if you were to ignore the tangled mess on your bed of course, in which case was thankfully barely visible now— and at least to set a specific mood.

"Outdoing ourselves, aren't we?"

"Yes, well.. doesn't it look more.. romantiiiiiic to you?"

"Maybe. All that's missing now is the music. And maybe roses too, hmm? But it's alright. I have the prettiest rose here already."

"Oh my God. Are you really Light Yagami, or just a spirit who had taken over?"

"Shut up. I thought the word romantic was never in your dictionary."

"Ah, but I have a lot of words in my dictionary, so you'll never know, my dear." You winked and took one rose out of the bouquet he had given you. You handed it to him. "There goes your rose."

He cringed, but he was smiling too. He tucked your hair behind your ears and placed the rose on top of it. Now all that was left to do was to play the music.

"Hey Light. We're gonna regret being this overly romantic one day, aren't we?"

"Probably. And all that cheesy stuff. But who knows? We may or may not end up like our parents and continue whatever this saga is."

"Yep. But I also think we'd regret it more if we don't grab the chance to do it."

"Well said, [Y/N]."

You grinned and went on to play the music on your vintage gramophone. Needless to say you were quite the quaint one. And Light knew well of this.

"Shall I have this dance, my lady?"

"Why, I thought you'd never ask."

You hid a smile as well as he. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were on your waist and you two slow danced, the rest of the world falling away. You thought whenever someone would say it, they're just exaggerating. But you were wrong. It really did feel like it that it might have been the closest to heaven you'd get.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you...

His eyes were locked on yours. This time, he wasn't holding back anymore. He was feeling the moment just as you were. And who cares if your movements weren't completely in sync with the music that was barely audible due to the rain?

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

If I can't help falling in love with you...

The smile you were hiding broke out when he pulled you closer. It was definitely a rare event so you had to savor it. Slow dancing in the dark, just like old lovers.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be...

You might've had already ran out of steps halfway to the song. You two stood still, bodies pressed with you looking up at him. He rested his forehead against yours. Your faces were so close that you swore you could already feel his lips against yours.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you...

And at that moment you really felt that you wanted him to take your whole life. You couldn't dream a world without your Light anymore.

To your surprise, he cupped your face and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a while as your bodies merely swayed to the rhythm of the song.

You love this man. He's not entirely perfect, but he's the best for you. He's your match. He's your lover. He's your rival. You were his, too.

"Psst, Light. I love you.." You whispered, pecking his cheek.

He stared at you with amusement, his adorable smile growing wider.

"I love you too."

"Even if you smell like shit right now..."

"You too. But did I complain?"

"Oh shush." You laughed. His arms tightly embraced you, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself as you two continued to lightly sway your bodies. He as well closed his eyes, leaning his cheeks against your head.

He considered this moment to be one of the bests where he's genuinely happy.

And outside, unbeknownst to you, stood a lonesome fellow under the streetlamp, drenched in the rain, a wistful smile on their face as they looked up to witness a moment like that from you two, wishing that one day they'll get to do that with someone too.

[operation-619]

Siren’s lullaby

Geralt of Rivia x WOC/reader

Summary: (Y/N) seeks the Witcher to help her capture the woman that shed the blood of her family. She may have the voice of an angel but her intentions are far from heavenly.

Warnings: Blood, violence, murder, torture, language, nudity, discrimination, abuse/assault  your media consumption is your own responsibility, you have been warned 18+

WC- 1.6K

Masterlist 

I am hosting a little competition of sorts, I will pick five people to have their character be in my story just fill out this form- HERE. 

The ocean flourished under the caress of the afternoon sun; waves lulled softly against the side of the ship as they foamed back into itself, the voices of the men drowned out the song of the birds as they ran about fixing sails and tying ropes. A man sat on the railing of the figure-head and watched carefully as the water rippled around them. His tanned skin glistened with sweat under the sun as he sharpened his knife, his eyes and mind were elsewhere.

A whisper of lust and flesh floated in the air, dancing around his head as he looked of into the distance, his hands worked independently – sharpening the knife on the flat stone he found in the hull of the ship, the motion came naturally to his body after years of repeating the same motion. The whispers grew quietly into a song of men floating to the treasure at the bottom of the sea, where gift beyond men were to be found. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought a ghoul was sat beside him, lips pressed against his ear and lulling him with unforeseen riches.

His eyes casted downwards, watching as the blues and greens mixed together creating an illusion of a fantasy that was always told in fairy tales. A lost city and civilisation of merepeople. He remembers the stories he use to hear from the elders, the upper-body that of a human, and the lower half was that of a fish with tails almost twice the size of their body, decorated in intricate scales and colours, with a fin at the end that helped them propel through the waters. Their hair a celadon-green and nipples of light-green. He remembered how many elders and others of his race were enamoured with their looks calling them nymphs of the sea, singing about their looks and the great power they hold.

But he was a child then, naïve, and simple-minded. Now he’s a man and the branding on his left forearm reminds those he crosses paths with that he is a dangerous man.

“You never think you are going to fall in sir?” his accent catches itself on the syllables, making it seem more pronounced and thicker. The man in question looked over his shoulder, throwing a hearty laugh to his crewman he put his knife back in it pocket and swung his body around before jumping back onto the deck.

“You insult me Mayarnde, all these year on this beauty and you still think I can’t balance myself right.” With a slap on the back, he moved towards the centre of the ship giving orders, joking with his men. The hour of peace brought clarity to his mind, something he needed from the past two moons. He thanked the stars for the peaceful journey, but deep down he really knew the reason, he would be foolish to deny it.

He made his way to back of the ship where the door to his quarters stood red wood splintering with age and the constant battle from the sea. It looked like it could do with a new glaze. The money he was getting paid after this trip would be enough to completely redo the entire ship and there would still be some left over.

“Maybe a visit to a brothel, the men could use the release.” He scratched his head as the thought occurred to him, he hadn’t laid with a woman for two moons. None of his men had, usually when they make a quick stop to grab some previsions, they have time to visit a whore or two. But their current guest was adamant on getting to their destination as quickly as possible. And god was he suffering.

He shut his door behind him and looked over his quarters, the desk was covered in parchments and writing utensils, the table in the middle of the room was completely covered by the map – markings plotting their course and other annotations that made little sense to him, his windows were open letting the warm breeze dance around. The parchments on the dark wooden walls fluttered as the wind gently swayed by, the sound of scribbling told him that someone had awaken.

Taking off his coat and throwing it onto the back of a chair, he wandered over to the map and observed the new markings, a thick circle marked out the city Cintra telling the man that was their final destination. It caused his eyebrows to raise, all this time and not once had he seen any city marked like this one.

“So, he is here then, the one you are looking for?” his violet eyes looked up to the woman hunched over the desk, reading new parchments that had only just arrived by raven. Her (H/C) hair was set free, coiling around her face and down to her navel, her deep-toned skin shone with a light sweat as she sat in the embrace of the sun. He watched her for a second noting the strange celadon-green highlights that would catch the sun every once in a while.

“Mhmm, Minoa told me that she heard talks of him in the area. Last, I know is that no one had seen him for weeks.” She shrugged her shoulders, not once looking up at the man in front of her. “But if Minoa said he was in the area that he is. It kind of her thing.” Her voice always brought a strange sensation over the man. He couldn’t exactly place it but, it felt relaxing almost peaceful.

“When do you want to dock because I saw land. So, we can reach there by the end of tomorrows light.” He rested his hip against the table, his sole focus on the woman. He only now notice that she was wearing his tunic with her trousers. It suited her, it suited her really well.

He really needed to visit a brothel soon.

“We can dock tomorrow, let the men rest, fuck a few whores and drink to get their shit back together. But I won’t leave the ship for a few days.” The language that came from her mouth never ceased to amaze him. When he first met her, he was taken aback by the way she dressed – tunic and trousers but the way she wore them made it seem perfectly fit for her. Her gaze was captivating and pierced his soul as she spoke to him. It trapped him in a trance. She had the air of a regal and noble lady, but the mouth of a sailor. It helped his men feel at ease.

The past two moons had been hard, the constant stopping and starting that only she knew the reason behind. But she helped his men through it, she had plenty of coin to keep their bellies happy throughout their trek across the great sea – meat and drinks that only the finest in life would eat. She was stronger than everyone thought too, she didn’t slink away into the quarter and stay there for the past two moons, she slaved away like the rest of the men. And her fighting skills were beyond anything he’d ever seen.

And he has seen some shit.

She finally looked up from the parchment and held his gaze, her plump lips spread into a soft smirk as she watched the man in front of her dumbly nod his head.

“Sorry Captain Saria, I forget you are not used to a woman using such language. I keep forgetting that, and I will most certainly need to fix my tongue once we land in Cintra.” She puffed out a laugh and bit her bottom lip. It had been some time since she’d been around people. Her life was normally quite and simple, in her term anyway.

She pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, letting them rest for a moment. She didn’t even remember blinking in the last few hours.

“(Y/N), what exactly are you looking for?” his violet eyes bore into her figure, he waited with bated breath for her to answer. And when her eyes met his, it took everything in him to not falter. It always amazed him how magnificent her eyes were, they could be the most tantalising feature throughout her entire being. One eye a breath-taking colour of (E/C) and the other celadon-green. It did give him some comfort, knowing that there was another out there from an ancient race. Throughout most of his adventures around this world he hardly saw anyone who looked like him, his elven bredrin had become scarce on this harsh world.

He was lucky with the life he has now.

“This man, he.” She put the writing pointe down and stood up from the chair she had been in for the past hour. She came in font of the desk and swiftly pulled herself to sit on top of it. She watched as Captain Saria looked her over, his violet eyes gazed at the shoulders that became exposed when the tunic slipped down.

“We have a lot in common, we are two beings that aren’t accepted in this world, Saria, he is going to help me find the woman that killed my family, my blood.” She brought her left arm forward and used her right hand to slowly roll up the sleeve of the tunic. An angry, jagged scar set itself along the expanse of her forearm. she delicately traced it with her fingers, a light mummer of pain made itself known. She had ran from her past, detached herself from everything she knew and it had worked. She became something she never dreamed of, she doesn’t even recognise her own reflection. (Y/N) looked back up at Saria, his eyes were dull, the sympathy felt mocking to her.

“I am the only one left out of my colony, I had to flee my home and become something I hate because my own home is unsafe. She took everything from me, and I intend to make her suffer.” (Y/N) let her arm flop back down. Her eyes clouded with the memories of her past, the laughter and pain, the children, Her blood.

Her people.

“And the Witcher is going to help me find her.”

__________

Let me know what you think my darlings. if you wish to be tagged let me know in the comments. 

[cavalierious-whim]

Diluc saw red first and everything else second.

#

Diluc is a neat dude. I love tortured souls. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and find me here on Twitter!

#

Diluc saw red first and everything else second.

It was why he dealt with matters first-hand instead of leaving it to the Knights of Favonious. The Knights were useless in their efforts. Slow to form and slow to act. Mondstadt couldn’t afford for thieves and murderers to take root, couldn’t afford to let them rule as they wanted.

So, Diluc took to the streets, reacquainted with his discarded vision; a painful thing that felt heavy in his hand with every step that he took.

The memory of his father, lifeless next to him, at the behest of his own hand. It was a bittersweet thing, this power that he held again. It was said to be a gift of the Gods. It still felt to be a gift of the Abyss instead.

And now, it was his conviction, an extension of Diluc’s power so readily poised at his fingertips.

By day, Diluc was affable enough. His patrons enjoyed his presence and his employees did as well. The Knights tolerated him, aside from Kaeya. Diluc hated that he wanted nothing to do with the man, yet, still found ways to remain in his orbit.

Be it late nights at the tavern or fighting side-by-side; there was tension there, thick as the sea-rope used to tie boats to port. But, there were things that most couldn’t overlook even in times such as this. He and Kaeya had history; brutal and familial in its core and unavoidable.

Even if Diluc would rather punch his smarmy face right in. Kaeya would welcome it right after he’d down a glass of wine or two. Always the fighter when just barely drunk. Always wanting to relive those old memories of when they were brothers because he had so little left in the present.

Diluc wished he felt the same. Instead, he only saw a red-tinged world spoiled by his anger. He felt the way that it bled through him, tingling in his fingers. Itching to fight instead.

He scratched that itch often enough that he’d gained a cult following.

It wasn’t supposed to be the case, of course. Diluc hated the limelight, hated the whispers about the Darknight Hero that seemed to be everywhere that he turned. It was supposed to be beating the shit out of the bad guys and leaving them to rot on the Knights headquarters.

It was supposed to be a call to action, a taunt to spit in their face. They needed to do better. There needed to be less bureaucracy and more head-cracking, because it was clear as day that that’s what did the trick.

It was no different that day.

Jean sighed at the sight before her, rubbing tiredly at her face. Tapping her foot impatiently as she surveyed the trio tied back-to-back before her.

“Unlike you to just drop them off and stick around,” she said, looking at Diluc.

Usually, he did exactly the opposite, fucking off before he could properly be seen. Jean wasn’t dumb, though; she’d known exactly who the Hero was far before she ever saw him in action. She had her own eyes and ears everywhere in the town. And then, of course, Lisa, a veritable spymaster extraordinaire.

People thought that librarians only had their heads in books. People were wrong.

“Wouldn’t have to bother if you’d do your job,” said Diluc in a huff.

Jean rolled her eyes at him. “You know that I have to go through proper channels--”

“I know,” cut in Diluc, already tired of the well-rehearsed diatribe.

“It’s out of my hands, Diluc--”

Diluc scoffed, crossing his arms. Jean followed suit, mirroring him, her gaze narrowing.

“You’re the acting Captain,” said Diluc finally. “You have pull.”

“Not enough to suggest going entirely against protocol.” Jean sighed, looking away as she ran a hand through her hair. “You know how it goes, Diluc. We hear the rumors, then we investigate. And if they pan out, then we send out--”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Diluc, impatient as always. “It isn’t quick enough. There’s a reason Mondstadt is overrun with the ill-intent nowadays. They know that’s how you operate.”

Jean sighed. Looked tired. And maybe Diluc was being cruel, but in the end, something needed to be said. And be done. If the knights weren’t up to the task, he’d gladly keep up the mantle.

“Do you have to wear that ridiculous mask?” asked Jean, a soft smile spreading wide across her face.

Diluc didn’t smile back. In fact, he didn’t respond to the quip at all, moving to readjust said mask against his face instead. “I have other matters to attend to--”

“You know, we would welcome you back,” said Jean.

Diluc paused. This wasn’t anything new, it was something she often reminded him. Usually, it only made him angry, made his vision turn that deep crimson color that he viewed the world narrow-mindedly through but--

Today, he only felt tired. Diluc sighed, readjusting his gloves, touching his mask, doing anything but looking at her. And Jean sighed too, already having expected such a reaction.

“I might have to arrest you if you keep this up,” she said next. Again, a common warning, something he heard all the time.

“Noted,” said Diluc in that droll, passive tone of his. And really, he didn’t care. Jean could try all she wanted. She was good, even he had to admit, but Diluc was positive that he still held the upper hand. Despite her threat, Jean would be overly cautious and her words would remain hollow.

They had been so far.

“If you bring me any more, do me a favor and dump them out back. Makes us look bad when you throw them on our step.”

Diluc smirked-- just the tiniest little quirk of his lips-- and looked at Jean. “That’s the entire point.”

Jean rolled her eyes again and then huffed, just a small, agitated little breath. But then she waved whatever her next thought was away, and told her companions to accompany their new acquisitions to the prison.

Diluc turned to leave and Jean spoke again.

“At least be careful out there.”

“I always am,” he said to her.

He wasn’t. Jean knew that. Lisa knew that. Everyone knew that-- it’s why they kept such a close eye on him. They were less worried about their public image and more worried about Diluc himself, and his mildly self-destructive ways.

Diluc met her gaze one last time. “Turn that concern to your own. I still have to kick Kaeya out night after night when he’s had one drink too many.”

Let it be known that he didn’t not care. Jean looked resigned at that, pressing her fingers to her temple once more. “Right,” she murmured. Then she waved him off and Diluc took his leave.

After that and late into the night, it was the same grind as always.

Watch for criminals. Beat criminals. Tie criminals up and dump them on the knights’ doorstep for them to see. Then, watch the knights scramble as they did damage control to reconcile their reputation. Endless entertainment for a rather dreary and boring day.

Diluc hunted not because he wanted, but it was the only way he felt worth. His father was dead, his brother was lost in more ways than one, and the world was an angry and cruel place, rose-tipped and wine-colored at its bleeding edges.

If Diluc was going to be stuck there and slog through his life in such a place, he should do some good, even if it was vigilante in nature.

His fingers itched to fight, palm wrapping tightly around the hilt of his claymore. There were Fatui not more than thirty paces away, no doubt planning something more nefarious than most.

Diluc's vision burned brightly alongside the boiling in his blood.

Might as well, he thought before jumping into the carmine fray.

[beyondtheciouds]

.29.

Part 1 of 3

Heavy rain descended from the sky swallowing up the last ounce of hope. The black clouds were staggered; swollen red from the heat of the day. The world outside is flipped upside down; black is white; white is black and all is red.

Her head aches with the shift in color; the logic of her accommodations rather painful. She gasps, her throat hoarse and still raw from screaming for hours on end. Tears slide down off the bridge of her nose and she can't close her mouth fast enough. A salt lick of a tear hazardly grazes her tongue; the clear liquid tasting like bottled anguish.

In her mind, she remains back at the Institute with her family. She braces and steadies herself for the worst.

The cold, steel manacle around her neck chokes her and makes it difficult to breathe. Chains, wrapped around her lithe body curl around and over her; tucking her away between their links.

The rusted chains rattle as she moves from left to right in a rhythmic sway; an attempt to crash through the door.

Velocity. Volume. Vantage.

Her nostrils flare with determination then deflate with defeat when her body doesn't pick up immediate speed.

Her long brown hair is loose from it's tight chignon; the ribbon torn in half. Dirty and tangled; the snarls of her hair half drag across the dusty floor of the tin can coffin.

Hanging upside down from the ceiling in her undergarments is Tessa. Her hands are behind her back held together with simple, normal rope. The rope is knotted in several places with sailors knots and elegantly tied to the rope around her feet. Both ropes are linked by a chain that is attached to the manacle around her neck.

Tatiana smiles vicious and hateful watching Tessa struggle. She enjoys the fact she can literally see the blood rushing to her enemy's head in the whites of her eyes. "Moving only makes the blood run quicker."

Tessa grimaces, a wave of dizziness and nausea washing over her. "Now you tell me."

Tatiana smiles that heinous smirk and shrugs. It lasts only a second, but something about the casual confident roll of her bony shoulder reminds Tessa of Gabriel. In the shift of a second, Tessa sees a glimmer of the person Tatiana used to be; a Lightwood-- confident and capable. This was the person Tatiana had been long before Rupert was murdered and her world broken.

Tessa allows the moment to pass; her regret left unsaid to the woman who perhaps could have been if not a friend an ally in another life. The moment clears the way for another idea. Tessa is willing to take a risk. Watching Tatiana closely, she feels she might be able to manipulate Tatiana into releasing her.

The door of the metal shack creaks open, a squeak of a mouse echoes as the bright red light becomes a beacon in the darkness. Ghostly fingers begin their smoky dance; the ghosts beckoning Tessa to join them in the afterlife.

Belial's silhouette becomes visible as the smoke dissapates. He is slouched precariously against the wall. He reminds Tessa of a criminal with his arms crossed over his chest. The red cherry of a cigar is a pulse beating in the dark. Tessa can't take her eyes off it.

"Are you ready to behave, my dear? Or should we continue with the torture?"

Tessa struggles, her fear turning into fury; refocusing. "You will never have James and Lucie at your side no matter what you do to me. You may be their grandfather, Belial but you are not family."

"Oh, love how foolish you are." Nate says and steps out of a dark corner. " I thought after living like one of them," He hisses the word as he crosses the room. "you would start acting like one." Nate flashes an unlimited amount of teeth at Tessa before briefly stepping into the beacon of light.

Tessa's heart breaks. She wanted Nate to look like the boy she'd grown up with. The brother she loved. The shock reverberates in her veins that Nate is now only a decaying mass of flesh and teeth; silhouetted and hollow like long dead bones. He should be burnt and buried.

Tessa had turned her eyes to the sound of his voice. She tries to turn her head but her neck is stiff; shackled in place. "Nate, please." She begs, her body rocking then swinging.

Nate stands in front of Tatiana and even she recoils, pushing herself away from him. His face is clawed; red streaks spiraling disease sporadically and oozing with infection. One clear blue eye pulses like a noncompliance heart; beating rapidly and out of rhythm. The next minute the eye is springing out of its socket; the other drooped and distorted what was left of his face.

The wooden chair creaks and scrapes the floor as Tatiana is dragged backwards into the darkness.

Belial smiles, his teeth twisted twinkling stars. The smoke from the cigar curls around his silhouette; mysterious and inviting in his hand. "Oh, my darling Theresa. How foolish you are indeed. I am not after your precious gifted children. I am after your only grandchild." Belial laughs quietly and whispers, "Quod sanctum puerum. De Trinitate."

Tessa gasps, her anger surfacing like a forgotten shipwreck. "NO. NO. NO."

Belial laughs again, louder as the soles of his boots step into the cold darkness. "Quod aurea puer. Et trifecta spiritualis vitae pertinent."

Tessa's eyes are wide as she whispers, following Belial's cruel smile. "The trifecta. Angel. Demon. Fairy."

Belial grins.

Tessa's face is burning.

The color of Belial's eyes changes, glowing red in the shadows as he inhales and exhales the smoke into the shadow of a child. "My ticket to freedom."

****

The ride to Fairchild Manor had been far from interesting, at least from James's point of view. The carriage was not his own, but a hansom cab for starters. The quarters were musty smelling and too cramped to get comfortable. Cordelia was seated closely beside him and he could smell the scent of rosewater on her skin. The weather was cold and the elbows of their heavy coats touched and their hips grazed one another when the road turned bumpy.

Cordelia had been quiet for some time with her nose stuck in a book. Her dark eyes swept across the page; darting under her long lashes along every romantic line of Pride and Prejudice. James had to smile to himself as his gold eyes finally settled on Cordelia as she drifted away in her story. Sometimes he forgot how much alike they actually were; how compatible compared to others.

For weeks he had tried not think of her as his sister's best friend but as his bride-to-be.

The boys were right and James was hesitant to admit the situation was serious. The specific runes; the sealing vows were sacred and similar to that of a parabatai. A bond between two people that was not easily broken.

He glanced down at the silver circlet around his wrist; Grace's bracelet. The metal burned the inside of his wrist. He imagined the bracelet imprinting the Blackthorn moto on his flesh tying him to them.

James frowned. He felt this tremendous impact on his chest that he thought meant that he owed Grace.

Was he making the right choice? Only time would tell. James couldn't think straight and despite his lack of sleep, it wasn't the girl he was looking at who was in his thoughts.

Another girl was on his mind. Thomas had warned him that morning Grace was up to something devious and devoted to destroying Lucie.

Cordelia had told him as much the night before. Still, James couldn't help but think that Thomas's caution might be mistaken for paranoia. He also detected that Cordelia was overly jealous.

James didn't disagree outloud, but he didn't believe Lucie was in danger. Not for a second.

The only person who he believed was in danger was his mother. Will was vigorously and vigilantly working to save her and James wanted to be there when his father did.

The only thing James could do to help right now was be at Lucie's side and get her through. All either could do was wait.

Wait for life; wait for death.

Christopher and Thomas sat across from them, each preoccupied in their own space.

The former had spent most of the ride untangling a scientific equation that James decreed was the equivalent to opening a glass jar.

When Christopher speaks, there are crickets--dead silence in the carriage and even Cordelia glances up from her book. "What are the odds that we could send Matthew a message by launching a bottle into the sky?"

The latter is a wanderer. He is daydreaming and James can tell that Thomas is filled with anxiousness; categorizing his own neurotic suspicions under the guise of appearing somber. "Like a cannon?"

James blinks, his inky eyebrows furrowed. "A cannon?"

"No. More like a message in a bottle attached to a...a...something. Then we launch the something into the air by striking a match to a series of ropes soaked in kerosene."

James's interest peaks, "Kerosene?"

Thomas turns away from the sublime serenity of the Idris countryside long enough to crook an eyebrow at Christopher. "Are you proposing another exploration of explosions?"

"Gunpowder. We're going to need a lot of gunpowder." Christopher says excitedly, his lavender eyes wide. The gears in his head start turning.

"No gunpowder," James says, shaking his head. He has to be the voice of reason with this crazy idea because it is obvious that Thomas is not listening. "and no explosive devices."

"I know...no. No, well I..." Christopher trails off, his thoughts unraveling like the blueprints to his inventions. Henry would have understood, he reminds himself.

Thomas huffs, unhappy with Christopher's idea. He turns back towards the landscape, silent. He doesn't glance over at Christopher or James. None of them say a word.

James finally sighs, placing his hand on the seat close enough to graze Cordelia's gloved fingers.

The carriage would be at Matthew's front door by nightfall and James was not ready for the confrontation. For the first time in their friendship, James had no idea how to approach his parabatai on a subject as sensitive as fatherhood.

As they passed a lone cemetery, he closed his eyes and prayed to Raziel that they were not too late.

***

The clouds gathered overhead, the sky a darkening gray. A stray dog barked in the distance and Lucie pulled the wool coat tighter around her docile frame. "Why are we here Grace?"

The two girls are in the snowy cemetery; sitting upon a cobblestone hill facing a vast expanse of headstones. A cardinal flutters in the tree branches above; red in a world of white.

Grace is understanding in the quiet; almost complacent and comfortable among the dead. "Shhh. The sun is going down."

On the horizon, placed before them like a slice of golden fruit was the sun slipping into the snow capped hills.

Lucie is the opposite of Grace. Her powers hum inside, keeping her on edge with her instinct wavering. She glances nervously around and feels the priceless prickle of despair crawl into her heart. "Can we go now Grace?"

Grace shakes her head. "Not yet."

A carriage rolls by and Lucie catches the shape of a dark haired boy in the window.

She hopes it is James.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

babysit side effects

A/N: This was requested by anon, I hope you enjoy! sorry it took so long, Ihope it was worth it. Please let me know what you think, and if anyone has any requests please let me know! 

summary: Can you write a fic where richie and eddie are babysitting one of the losers kids, and it makes them realize they want a kid of their own? Thank you :)

warnings: curse words 

‘Okay, so let’s go over this again. Sophia has her first bottle of milk at 7:30 am, followed by her second bottle of milk by 11:15 am. At 12:30 she eats either fruit or a vegetable, and then at 3:15 he has another feeding time, this time a vegetable or fruit depending on what you gave her before, and then at 6:45 she has her last feed which is milk. Do you understand?’

Richie nodded somingly, even when he had to try hard to keep his laughter in, the serious and panicked look on Stan’s face too much to handle.

‘Of course Staniel, don’t you trust me to take care of your kids for a day?’

There was a beat of silence, during which Stan stared at Richie intently, trying to gauge if he was serious, or if he was just trying to provoke him. Then; ‘Off fucking course not Richie. Patty take your bags back inside, we’re not going.’

Laughter poured from Patty, who was just loading in her bag in the backseat, straitening up and walking closer to them. When she got close enough, she reached out and plucked Sofia out of Richie’s arms, her in hand holding her by her bum, while the other on supports the back of her head.

She coos at her daughter, full of love and not an ounce of annoyance anywhere visible on her entire face, despite the fact that Richie saw her slobber all over Patty’s blouse only minutes before she had to leave.

‘Sure we do Rich,’ Patty assures him while she grants his a kiss against his cheek as  goodbye. ‘Stan and I wouldn’t have asked you if we didn’t think you were up to the challenge. Besides, we’re only going to be gone for a night, and we’ll return first thing in the morning. If anything goes wrong he can call us.’

There only off to help Patty’s mom move into a new nursing home for the day and night, but it’s the first time that they’ve been away from their children since Sofia was born, and Richie insist to make their time away free of all concerns. That is if they finally leave at least.

Stan kisses his daughter on the forehead holding her close for one last moment, before allowing Patty to hand her back into Richie’s awaiting arms.

It shocks Richie’s that baby’s are so small, though he knows logically that everyone was that small at one point or another, it’s one thing to know it, and another to actually see it.

‘Eddie is here too, so there’s two of them.’ Patty and Stan resort to a silent stand-off, holding a none spoken argument that Patty wins, if her smug smile is anything to go by.

‘There are also two children, so let’s hope they can handle both.’ Richie fake gasps, moving to hold his hand up in faux outrage, but stops when he is reminded of the, albeit barely there, weight of little Sofia, who is now fast asleep on his chest.

Knowing when to be serious, Richie lets his facade drop, Bowing down to catch Stan's eyes, before smiling reassuringly. ‘We got this Stan, trust me.’

Stan smiles back without a moment of hesitation,’ I know. If anything happens to be my babies, I’ll kill you in your sleep.’ The serious expression on his face enough to make Richie gulp, regardless of the fact that he knows Stan doesn’t mean it.

‘Copy that sir.’

‘Speaking of our two babies, where’s Emily?’ Patty demands, turning in a circle in search for her but not locating here.

‘I’m pretty sure she roped Eddie into dress up and having a tea party with her, so I think for the sake of Eddie’s sanity, we should leave now.’

The bolstering laugh from Richie is way too loud on the peaceful morning most of Stan’s neighbors are experiencing, but Patty joins him, so it’s not too bad. Suspiciously, Patty pauses right after to stare longingly at her daughter, her eyes becoming a little wet.

‘Alright, let’s go. Give Eddie my best.’ She hugs Sophia one last time, then turns away to sniffle and hide her tears, no doubt a little sad a the prospect of not seeing her girls. Richie moves to comfort her, but Stan is on the case, and he can do a much better job than Richie, no doubt in his mind.

Richie stands there uncomfortably, rocking baby Sofia back and forth, and staring at her sleeping face to avoid stalking the two lovers in front of him.

He only looks up when Stan loudly proclaims their leaving, ‘come on Babylove.’ Waving at Sophia likes she’s about to wave back. After, he carefully hugs Richie’s side, avoiding squashing Soph while also deeming his goodbye to Richie.

He too is reluctant to leave Sophia and Emily in the care of Eddie and Richie, but not because he doesn’t trust them, he just finds it hard to go anywhere without them.

They still leave regardless, after ten more minutes of saying goodbye, then they finally leave, turning the corner right as Eddie comes out of the house checking up on Richie to see what was taking him so long.

When Richie turns to face Eddie, he shrieks with laughter, not managing to contain himself. Patty’s old lipstick red dress that has holes in the sides of them and a little bit of dirt on one of the sleeves looks good on Eddie, even if Richie may be a bit biased and thinks everything looks fantastic when it’s Eddie that’s wearing it, but it’s the pink crown and staff that he’s holding, and the murderous leer he’s showing, that has Richie cackling like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Don’t you fucking dare, asshole.’ Eddie swears menacingly, but Richie can’t take him seriously, not when Emily scatters out of the house to tug on the bottom of the dress, the three year old herself slipped in the princess dress Eddie and Richie gave her as a present on her birthday a few weeks back. He bets Eddie didn’t expect it to backfire this way.

‘Uncle Eddie come on’, Emily whines, the three year old wearing an frozen Anna dress that is a tad too big on her, ‘The others are waiting on us.’

The other include, mister giraffe, Amika the horse, and Elsa, all in the form of stuffed animals gifted to her by various losers when they came to visit.

‘Yeah uncle Eds, it’s rude to keep the guest waiting you know.’ Richie eggs her on, smirking in delight when Eddie unsuspiciously flips him the bird, but follows Emily anyway, off to indulge her in whatever she requests him to do.

His laughter caused Sophia to wake up again, and she fuzzily bangs her tiny fist on Richie’s chest, as if to convey that she’s mad she was awoken. He tries to bounce her gently up and down, to et her settled again, then changes his mind and enters the house on a whim, trudging up the stairs to join Eddie and Emily in her playroom.

Getting close enough to the door to hear Emily’s voice does the trick, as he expected it to. Sophia calms down, now resorted to peeking up at her uncle, a gurgle escaping her throat while she fists around a piece of his hair, giggling happily.

Richie’s heart melts a little, while he gets hit with an enormous amount of love and affection, and he starts to understand why Patty and Stan were so begrudged to go anywhere without her.

Her blanket, the one she has on her at all times, is still pined safely to the front of her beanie, bunched up in the hand that is not pulling one of his curls. He catches a glimpse of Eddie, folded nearly completely in on himself, forced to sit still in a chair that is even too small for Emily to fit in properly, sipping on a tea cup but making 100 % sure the side of it doesn’t touch his bottom lip.

Emily simpers, lifting her own teacup to her mouth with a pinky stretched up as a greeting to him, chastising Eddie like he is the kid instead of her, when Eddie stretches upwards to grab a muffin.

Doing a poor job of hiding his laughter, Eddie takes notice of Richie staring at them from the door opening, at first looking vex, but then an emotion crosses his eyes that Richie can’t define. He shakes his head and focuses back on the table, but not fast enough to stop the sentiment from getting picked up by Richie.

‘Well, it looks they’re too busy for us right now. It’s just me and you then. Don’t give me that look bumper’, the nickname Richie duped her after finding out that her name was chosen after they saw it on a bumper sticker slipping out effortlessly, not with standing the arguments of Stan. ‘She can not find out about that Richie. I swear to god, I will keep you away from her long enough until I’ve convinced her that everything you say is a lie.’

‘I can be a good replacement dad for the day, just you wait and see.’

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

Five hours later, when the clock strikes 3:15 pm, Richie struggles with the preparing the baby formula, and he can’t figure out what he is supposed to do. There is milk that needs to be added, but when he mixes the powder and the liquid with one another, a sticky, soup of residue is left behind, and that is impossible to taste good.

Embarrassingly, Richie resorts to researching the internet, clicking on video after video to find the same brand Patty and Stan use, to be absolutely assured that he’s doing the right thing. Then when it finally hits him over the head that it is supposed to look like that, he can’t get the temperature right.

The first time he puts it in the microwave he warms it so hot that he can’t even grasp the bottle in his hands, dropping it and staring at the milk that leaked all over the floor, cursing his life and every decision that has brought him up to that point.

The second one is still cold, and he briefly considers giving the baby cold milk, before he remembers Patty’s warnings and places it back in the microwave, when he takes it out, it’s hot enough to make him release a hiss.

He gets more and more frustrated, his emotions pilling on top of each other to leave one huge dump of distress that he can’t possibly take on too, not alongside two kids, and it only gets worse when Sophia has a fit and starts crying.

Richie’s earlier tricks to calm her down don’t work, not even after a few tries, so with a groan, he throws in the towel and yanks out his cellphone, feeling like a complete and utter failure.

‘Hey Richie, do you know where Stan and Patty keep their desserts? Sophia is craving something sweet and I used the opportunity to have myself a little break.’

Eddie pauses when he steps foot in the kitchen, hey eyebrows coming together to frown when he takes in the disheveled state Richie is in.

‘What’s wrong?’ Richie shakes his head uselessly, his shoulders shrugging helplessly while gesturing towards Sophia who is nestled against his shoulder, her cries muffled but still audible.

‘I don’t know how to prepare milk.’ Eddie has the audacity to snort, a sound that Richie has never heard coming from him, so he’s helpless to let out a small one himself.

‘Don’t laugh at me Eduardo, I’m in a deep crisis right now and I require your help.’ Walking closer, Eddie accept the bottle handed to him, the word ‘auch’ escaping from him at the warmth burning his palm.

‘My help? Why me?’ Eddie asks, shooting Richie a questioning look. A pink red sticker is hanging on his forehead, Richie then notices, but since Eddie is apparently blissfully unaware of it, Richie keeps it to himself.

‘Well Eds, I assume you have enough experience with babies, you know. Since you were treated like one your entire life?’ He winces when the words leave his mouth, his mind too preoccupied with Sophia to think twice about what he was about to speak in existence.

‘Fuck you, dude. And don’t call me Eds asshole.’ Luckily, Eddie waves the comment away with the tip of his hand, doing his signature move where he pretends to karate chop the air. ‘Come here, give her to me for a second.’ Eddie suggests, and Richie obliges, handing her over with extreme caution, even when she very willingly goes.

‘You’re uncle Rich is a bit of an idiot huh? How about we go and see how we can prepare your- well it’s not dinner yet, let’s say afternoon snack?’ Sophia quieted down as she got comfortable in Eddie’s arms, one of his arms beginning to prep the formula, again, during which the other held her up and close.

He then leaned in to whisper something in her ear, not loud enough for Richie to decipher what they were talking about, but it caused Eddie to gleam again, and even Sophia let out a big grin, happily going along with whatever her uncle Eddie was proclaiming.

The sight of a baby in Eddie’s arms, his eyes twinkling in pure adoration, his grin wide enough to show teeth, while he rocked her back and forth, made Richie want to beg Eddie to raise a child with him.

He dismissed the idea soon enough though, for if Eddie had a wish for kids, surely he would have said something by now. But he knows already that the image was going to haunt his dreams for a long time, the mesmerizing sight of what could be, or could have been did not plan on leaving his mind any time soon.

He must stare for a tad too long, Eddie feeling his gaze upon him so he glances up, their eyes meeting. Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but before he can he is interrupted by Emily, impatient from waiting too long or her cookie.

‘Uncle Eddie, what’s taking you so long?’ She complains, rolling her eyes when she notices that Eddie is holding her sister.

‘In a minute sweety, I’m just helping uncle Rich out right now.’ Having an excuse from being in Eddie’s proximity while he’s holding a baby, Richie jumps on the opportunity to get out. The fact that he missed his other niece aswell guides his decision too.

‘I’ll play dress up with you for a while Princess Ems.’ He bows down extravagantly, acting as if there is real royalty in front of him.

‘Don’t you want me to teach you how to prepare milk?’ Eddie summons, his voice edged with a tint of confusion at Richie’s sudden interest to leave.

‘You can teach me about that later Eds, she needs her drink three times a day.’ Richie reassures him, fiddling with his thumbs while he begs Eddie to let the subject drop.  

‘But uncle Eddie was so cool, all my friends wanted to meet him.’ Emily had yet to grow out of the phase where she us jealous of her little sister, so her whole argument isn’t about Eddie specifically, it’s about her not entertaining the idea of anyone giving her sister the light of day from who she demands it from.

But that’s alright. Richie is nothing if not persuasive.  ‘Aye, that’s true but they have yet to meet me’, Richie performs, making use of the pirates accent and langue he had to learn for an audition. Emily giggles in delight, easily swayed when it involved her uncle Richie, and even more so when it had to do with his voices.

‘And if they don’t wanna know a seadog like me, I’ll force those scallywags to walk the plank. Aye. Now let’s go, heave-ho upstairs so I can be introduced.’

Emily nods enthusiastically, practically running up the stairs two steps at a time, and Richie follows with just as much energy, yelling ‘aye’ or ‘are’, every so few seconds. In his haste, he is oblivious to the same longing look Eddie gives him, when he sees him interact with a child.

-----

It’s a long day, and Richie can feel the bone deep exhaustion creeping up on him when he eventually makes his way over to the couch, Eddie dozing on the rug with the baby monitor still in his hands.

It’s not even eleven pm yet, and Richie knows that Eddie would be more relaxed in a bed than the sofa, but he also knows that they’ll be awaken more than a few times during the night, so he lets Eddie sleep.

In the wardrobe in Stan and Patty’s living room, Richie discovers a blanket, big enough to cover both him and Eddie, so he takes it, vowing to wash it before they get home. It’s soft and fluffy, and perfect to sleep with, but as soon as he tucks it around Eddie, he shits up, all sleep vanished from his eyes.

He blinks up at Richie, shuffling closer to him while disposing of the baby phone on the ground next to were they are seated, and rearranging the quilt till every part of their bodies is covered with it.

Eddie’s head lays on Richie’s shoulder, while one of his arms rubs up and down his arm and shoulder, grabbing strands of his arm hair with him sometimes, which is just what Richie needs to stay awake, the small jolts of pain keep him on his toes. And that’s necessary, he discovers over the next minute.

Without facing Richie, Eddie drops a bombshell like he’s never done before, causing Richie to choke on his own spit. ‘I want to have a baby.’

I want to have a baby, I want to have a baby, I want to have a baby, the words play on repeat in his head, ricocheting of the walls and tumbling but sticking none the less, Richie brain turning into mind numbing fizz, absolutely no thoughts besides Eddie words formulating.

The coughing alerts Eddie, who sits up straighter, looking back Richie’s way with wide eyes, as he looks on on the natural disaster that is about to concur in front of him.

When his brain comes back online, mortifying is not even big enough a word to describe the shame Richie feels for his reaction, so, he resorts to what he always does; using humor as a blockage.  

‘Christ Eds, I don’t think that possible. You know, question of having the right body parts. It’s a shame really, me and your mom.-‘

‘Beep, Beep Richie.’ Eddie interrupts him strictly. ‘I need you to be honest. No jokes, just you.’ That’s a hard task, since it’s become second nature to Richie to use it as a defense mechanism, but for Eddie he’s willing to try.

‘And before you say anything, let me talk first’, Eddie insists, waiting till he gets an approving nod from Richie to continue. ‘Today, seeing you with Sophia and Emily, I realized that you’re so good with kids. And before today I honestly didn’t think I wanted children, but I guess that I didn’t want them with Myra, but I do want them with you. What do you think?’ Eddie prompts, trying to gauche Richie’s reaction, but even Eddie sometimes has trouble doing that, and now is one of those times.

Holding his breath nervously, not even Richie’s hand grabbing his is enough to calm him down, his fingers drumming against his upper leg.

‘I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.’ Richie entrust Eddie, his body visibly relaxing when it’s clear that Richie is at the very least not going to yell at him for suggestion kids in the first place.

Their lips meet in the middle of Stan’s couch, the house around them eerily quite while the two of them are stuck in a haze together, blissfully unaware of what’s happening outside of their bubble. It’s a reassuring kiss, their lips lazily in sinc, neither in a rush, to help calm both of them down just a little, before diving head first into the deep shit again.

���Are you sure you want to have kids with me? Because today I fucked up her stupid bottle. I mean, who can’t warm milk? And I don’t want you to hate me over something that I can’t do. I’m scared I’ll put all this weight on you and you’ll resent me for it, and I can’t have that, Eds, I can deal with everything else, but I can’t deal with you hating me.’ Richie proclaims, out of breath and sucking in large gulps of air.

Eddie pulls his face closer to his, both of his palms on either side of Richie’s head. ‘Listen to me dipshit, cause I’m only fucking saying this ones. You could murder someone in front of me, and I would roll with it okay? I came out and left my wife, and yeah, part of that was because of me, but I would have never understood what those feeling were if it weren’t for you. I love you Richie, and that’s never going to change no matter what.’ Eddie pauses, searching Richie eyes for confirmation that he understood. ‘Dipshit’, he added when he found it.

Richie let out a titter, one of his hands coming up to cover Eddie’s and leaning into the touch.

‘If you’re only worried about not knowing stuff to do with the kids, than I can help with that. That’s what a relationship is. I teach you things, and you teach me. Besides, there’s going to be a specific choir assignment, because there’s no fucking way I’m cleaning a baby’s diaper.’

‘Well then, Edward Francis Kaspbrak, it would be my honor to have a baby with you.’ Eddie’s face it up, through and through genuineness this time. No annoyance or irritation anywhere in sight, so of course, Richie had to change that.

‘Again, not biological because that would be impossible.’

‘Shut the fuck up asshole.’ Eddie grabbed a pillow to whack Richie full in the face, laughter pouring out of him when he accidentally knocked his glaces off.

‘Hey Eds, you might want to learn how to control that temper of yours, we wouldn’t want our beloved child to adapt the same words right?’

‘Seriously, I’ll fucking murder you if you don’t shut the fuck up.’

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (80/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was gifted to them. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word count: 2389

Warnings: angst, anger, drama

<<Prev || The Pull Masterlist || Next>>

You’re making your way through the yard when you see Kira running towards the house. She looks somewhat terrified as she changes course to meet up with you. 

“Liam just…” she begins through panted breaths, “he woke up and he broke through the rope and I swear I thought he was going to attack us but he just… he took off,” she tells you. 

“Which way?” you ask the girl and she points towards the east side of the property, where the woods seem to press against the house.

“Scott went after him,” she tells you and you nod your head in acknowledgment.

Turning to her, you grip her arms and tell her, “I’m gonna go help him out. Go find Stiles. Let him know what’s going on and tell him to tell Lydia. Malia should be with him, grab her and the two of you keep watch out here. Just in case he decides to come back this way. 

“He’s gonna be pissed and depending on how things go down with me and Scott he may be looking for something, or someone, to take his aggression out on. The last thing we want is for him to attack someone here. Got it?” 

She quickly nods her head and tells you to be careful before she makes her way towards the house. 

Turning towards the woods, you follow the sounds of foliage breaking under the footsteps of a running wolf. Thankfully, you’ve run through woods most of your life so making your way through the foliage isn’t very difficult and you quickly begin to close the distance between you, Scott and Liam. 

You hear a roar and then Scotts muffled grunting. Picking up speed, you find the two are fighting with each other. Liam trying to literally tear off Scott’s head with his teeth. 

“Liam!” you hear Scott calling out, “Liam wait! Stop!”

You can see them through the trees as you close the distance between you and you watch as Liam continues his assault on Scott as he demands, “What did you do to me?!” 

Scott doesn’t instantly reply, whatever he does though pisses Liam off further and you watch as the boy stalks forward, growling, “This is your fault.”

The growl quickly turns to a scream of pain as he accuses, “It’s all your fault! This is your fault!”

Liam lifts his hand and you can see his claws are extended. You step forward to try and either push Scott or Liam out of the way so that Liam doesn’t end up slashing his claws across Scott’s face. You know that you’re too far to be of any good if Liam swings now but you have to try. 

Thankfully the whooshing sound of an arrow is heard right before a crackle of electricity and a blinding light go off.  Instantly, you squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in fear that hunters are back in Beacon Hills. 

You can hear Liam scream in pain before the sound fades. Opening your eyes, you see Scott’s look of shock and, stepping out of the trees, you follow his line of sight. 

Standing just uphill from where the two boys had just been is Chris Argent, a modern crossbow in his hand, aimed at the trees above Scott.  He’s making his way down to Scott and the boy seems to be in shock. 

“How did you know?” Scott asks the older man when he reaches out to help him up. 

Once Scott is on his feet, Argent tells him, “Natasha called about Kate… and I got your text.”

“Wait you texted him about Kate?” you asked Scott, pulling the boys' attention to you at the incredulousness in your voice. 

“I didn’t have the money to call internationally,” Scott defends himself and you can’t help but notice that he sounds like he’s said this before. 

“Really though Scott… a text?”

You chuckle at the sound of exasperation in Argent's voice. Before it can go any further, however, you’re distracted by the sound of an echoing howl through the woods. 

The three of you share a look before Argent tells Scott, “There’s a clearing just north of here. All you have to do is corral him there. The rest is taken care of.”

“What are you gonna do?” Scott asks the older man and you snort. 

When eyes turn to you, you tell Scott, “You bit him. You turned him. It’s not up to Argent to do anything here. It’s up to you.”

“She’s right,” Argent defends, “He’s your Beta, Scott. The question is what are you going to do?”

“He won’t listen to me,” Scott points out with a heavy sigh. 

“He will if you start using your own words,” you tell him. You can see the question on Argents face and elaborate, “He had this weird, ‘the bite is a gift’ speech he was trying to get through earlier. It was the most awkward thing I had ever seen.”

A pained scream echoes through the forest and Argent hands Scott a control before telling him to go. 

Both you and Scott make your way to the sound of the screams, finding the clearing that Argent had been talking about along with the sonic emitters hunters tended to use against were’s. 

As you walk up, you can see Liam on the floor, his hands covering his ears.  Scott turns off the emitters and makes his way to Liam as the boys breathing evens out. 

“What’s happening to me?” Liam asks, his voice betraying how terrified he is as he looks up at Scott. 

“The same thing that happened to me,” you hear him tell the boy as he kneels down and begins to explain what changes Liam can expect. 

Standing off to the side, you let the two talk. Scott had been right… he is the only one (that you know of) that could help Liam right now. Most of the weres you knew were born, they weren’t bitten. And the bitten weres you knew had usually been bitten when they were old enough to be able to adapt to it.

** 

Stiles made his way through the party, Kira had found him and told him about what was going on with Liam and Scott and how Tasha was going after them.  His first thought had been to go after Tasha but Kira had turned him around and told him that if he managed to get himself killed by the pup, Tasha would probably revive him just to kill him again. 

Besides they needed Lydia just in case. 

Not finding the banshee downstairs, it occurs to him that she may be upstairs. 

He sees the pup's friend making his way out of a room but he’s calling out, “Lydia, it’ll come out. It will.”

“Wait, Lydia’s in there?” he asked the boy who nodded his head, “Yea some wine spilled I’m gonna go get some club soda.”

The sound of the door opening and closing catches Stiles’ attention and he turns to walk into the room. Walking in, he finds an ominous cream room and Lydia’s leaning over an old record player. 

When she clicks on a button, the needle moves along the vinyl but nothing plays. Stiles is about to call out Lydia’s name and grab her attention but a movement catches his attention. Lydia’s head is moving around and when he steps towards her, he realizes her eyes are moving across the wall.. it takes him a second before he realizes that she’s hearing something. 

He gives her a moment before stepping up to her, “Lydia… what do you hear?”

He has to repeat the question but she answers him softly, “The key… The key to break the code.”

“The code?” he questions for a moment and she nods her head again before telling him to get her a laptop. 

***

As the temperature drops, you find yourself wishing that you had in fact, taken Jax’s jacket when he offered it to you. Or at least stolen Stiles’... Thankfully, it seems like Scott’s mostly gotten through to Liam and you’re about to step away when you hear Liam break down into sobs. 

“They can’t know about this,” he begs Scott, “My mom and my step-dad I can’t do this to them again.”

Scott gives you a confused look and you walk up next to him, kneeling to the side of Liam, “Pup… what do you mean again?”

He turns to look at you and shakes his head, “I got kicked out of school and I deserved it The way they looked at me when they saw what I did to that car….”

Liam trails off but you have no idea what he’s talking about. It doesn’t particularly matter to you though and you reach out, running your fingers through Liam’s hair, “It’s okay pup.”

“They can’t see me like this…. Like…” Liam trails off, his face ashamed. 

“Like a monster?” Scott offers and your eyes snap to his, narrowed in a glare. 

He puts his hands up in surrender as you feel Liam nodding his head. Turning the pup you tell him, “You’re not a monster. You are so far from a monster… Liam… you’re a werewolf… Same as me...” his eyes turn towards yours and you flash him your eyes.

“Like me,” Scott tells him but there’s a pride in it. You watch as he stands, less hesitant as he seems to accept the role of Alpha and flashes his reds at Liam. 

Liam looks between the two of you and you help him to his feet. The three of you are joined by Argent as you walk Liam back towards the boathouse as you tell him, “Seeing as it’s a full moon and your first one at that, it’s probably best if we don’t go back inside for the party.”

“You were in there,” he points out, trying to get back in. 

You snort softly,  “Yup, and I was sorely tempted to rip someone's arms off and beat them with them.” You felt Liam stiffen next to you and before he had a chance to move away, you wrapped your arm around his, “Relax. Everyone’s arms are intact and no one was pummeled with anything. At least not by me. Lydia may murder all of us later for the impromptu party but for my end, folks are good. Just… don’t threaten mine.”

At his questioning gaze, you nod your head, “I can be very… protective.”

“Good to know,” he mutters as the two of you arrive at the boathouse. 

***

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long to find a laptop and Stiles was back in the room with Lydia, handing her the laptop in no time.  She turned it on and he watched as she opened a webpage and entered the first part of the code he’d seen on Malia’s notebook. 

The page begins to show the rest of the code and he can hear Lydia take a deep breath, her heart pounding. 

Her fingers hover over the keyboard before he watches her enter in the name of Scotts first love. 

The code immediately changes, forming names with numbers to the right. 

The Walcotts are each listed, one by one - followed by a few other names. He recognized five of them Lydia, Scott, Derek Kira and at the bottom, Natasha. 

“Is this…” he asks, his brain still trying to wrap around what he’s seeing. 

“A list of supernaturals in Beacon Hills,” Lydia confirms, “It's a dead-pool and we’re all on it.”

Stiles takes a look at the list again. The Walcotts are listed, one by one, followed by Lydia, Scott, Demarco, Derek, a Carrie Hudson, Kayleen Betcher, and Kira but the last name on the list stops his heart. 

There, in plain black and white for the world to see is Natasha Ragnulf.

-

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-

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!!  Any guesses on what Natasha is worth? Let me know what you thought! Comments, reblogs, asks… all of these things let me know how you’re feeling about the story and give me life!  

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Could not tag the bolded

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 28 February 2020

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 80 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 80 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Kurin drew a deep breath to steady herself before going on, “In order, they are silencing the fog drum to prevent the rescue of mariners believed to be in distress, two counts of assault with intent to kill, four counts of murder, mutiny and the attempted piracy of the Grandalor when she was known to be my personal property.  These accusations need to be investigated to determine whether particular individuals or the ship as a whole needs to be charged.”

Sarfin looked as though a heavy weight had been placed on his shoulders. “The Longin?  No wonder you find this difficult.  Why have you not included the violations of Great Law?  They did happen.”

Kurin took a deep breath and sighed before answering, “Yes, your Honor, they did occur, but the Second Great Law violation is subsumed in the offense of the fleet as a whole and that has been disposed of.  The Fifth Great Law violation is basically a technicality.  The Grandalor sailors were not in distress.  Their goal was to speak to me.  They succeeded.  The Grandalor refuses to press the issue.”

Sarfin mildly responded, “I see.  Let us begin by questioning her Officers and Craft Council.”  He turned to an aide and said heavily, “Go, bring them all and include the suspended Captain Mord Halyn.”

“Get them chairs, too,” interjected Kurin.  “We don’t know how long this is going to take.”

Soon the Longin’s Craft Council and Officers were assembled and seated. Some of them seemed disturbed and the rest were giving Kurin angry glances.

She just said, “Mister Kotance Warn Grinna appears to be missing.”

“He was relieved of command.  He is no longer an officer,” Master Juris said to her truculently.

“So was Mister Mord Halyn Longin,” said Kurin.  “The investigation needs both of them.”  The proceedings were held up for a few more minutes while Kotance was brought before them and seated.

Sarfin stood behind his table and informed the group, “This is not a trial.  Your rights under the Great and fleet Laws will, nevertheless, be observed.  The purpose of this investigation is to find the proper individuals to charge on the counts brought by the Grandalor’s advocate.

“The first charge is silencing the fog drum to prevent the rescue of mariners believed to be in distress.  Who did that?”

Softly, Mord Halyn raised a hand and said, “I did.”

Kurin interjected, “With respect to you and the investigation conducted by the Longin, you did not.  I was there.  However there is another witness who, with your confession, nobody bothered to ask.  Degan was on the fog drum at the time.  Ask him who ordered him to stop.”

Sarfin had apprentice drummer Degan brought before the investigation.  The young man was clearly afraid.  Sarfin calmly reassured him, “No need for fear lad, you have done nothing wrong.  You may know who did though.  Think carefully and answer for me, who first ordered you to stop the fog drum when the Grandalor people were approaching?”

Hesitantly, Degan said, “It was First Officer Kotance, Sir.  After he silenced me, Captain Mord nodded his head.”

Kurin asked quietly, “Could Captain Mord have been nodding his head about something else?”

Degan seemed slightly surprised and said, “Could have been, just never thought of it that way.”

“Thank you, Degan, that matches my memory of the event, too,” Kurin said.

Mord Halyn shook his head, confused.  “I remember doing it.  I had not thought of it but I did follow First Officer Kotance’s lead. Still, as Captain, I am the one responsible for it.”

Kurin replied, “And First Officer Kotance bears no responsibility?  He knew your weakness and seized the opportunity to have you removed and take the Captaincy for himself.  You were the victim of a deliberate, if quickly conceived, mutinous plot.  On your own, you’d never have silenced that drum.”

Kotance started up angrily and Sarfin overrode him.  “Mister Kotance!  You are not in order!  Sit down, now!  Your chance to speak will come later, if it is needed.”  Grumbling, Kotance sat.

Sarfin consulted his notes and said, “The next charge is two counts of assault with intent to kill.  Are there witnesses or victims of this crime?”

Kurin said confidently, “There are two victims, your Honor, and if necessary, three witnesses from the Grandalor’s party.  The first victim was Gemma Colin Grandalor.  Gemma, would you come forward and tell the court what happened to you?”

Gemma came out of the crowd and hesitantly faced Sarfin.  “Don’t be afraid, young lady.  Just tell me what happened exactly as you remember it,” he said gently.

“We came up to the Longin in a fog bank.  There were three boats of us, and Captain Tanlin in hers.

Sarfin interrupted her statement to ask, “How did Tanlin become Captain?”

Gemma replied, “Barad stepped down voluntarily for the good of the ship. He hoped that fleet justice would fall more lightly on the rest of us if he were not leading us anymore.”

Sarfin looked intrigued by the answer but asked a different question.  “How did you find the Longin in the fog?”

Gemma looked surprised by the inquiry.  “We followed Captain Tanlin and she followed Skye.”

“Sky? I thought that you were in heavy fog.”

“Skye is the female Wide Wing, your Honor.  One of the birds that hit Captain Urson when she threatened Kurin.  Anyway, we all followed the bird to the Longin.  When they heard that we were from the Grandalor, the fog drum fell silent.  When we got to the side of the ship, near the bow, there was not so much as a rope for us.  We cast grapnel hooks with lines attached and went up the side.

“I hope to never see such a thing again.  Poor Lenai Halin got over the rail in front of him,” she paused and pointed at Mord Halyn, “and she got stabbed in the stomach with a knife so long that it stood out her back.  Helmsman Macoul tried to pull her back to get her into the boat and the same big knife cut his throat.  He fell over the rail and landed in one of the boats but he was already dead.  It was Darkistry who managed to get Lenai back over the side and I lowered her into a boat.

Darkistry got two big cuts while she was trying to save Lenai.  I was not quite above the rail because I was on the rope, coming back up to try and help her when the man I pointed out hit me on the head with the hilt of a Strong Skin tooth dagger.  That gave me both a concussion and a head wound.”

Kurin raised a hand and asked, “The man that you pointed out is Mord Halyn.  In your opinion, did he try to kill you or any other of the party?”

Gemma answered at once, “No, Ma’am.  In all the fight that I saw, he used a short Strong Skin tooth dagger but never stabbed or cut anybody.  If he’d wanted to kill me he could have easily turned his dagger point first.  He just wanted us off his ship.”

Sarfin looked curiously at Kurin.  He had learned that Kurin did not throw away either charges or witnesses lightly.  He sensed that something was up.  “Kurin, why are you doing this?  You appear to have eliminated one of your attempted murder charges.”

“No, your Honor, I have not.  However I have eliminated all charges of the crimes of murder and attempted murder against Mord Halyn Longin. Quite simply, he not only didn’t do them, he was framed so thoroughly that even he thought that he had committed the crimes.  If necessary, I have other witnesses from that party.  They all agree. The crimes were done but not by Mord Halyn.”

“I see,” said Sarfin, picking a parchment from the neatly organized piles in front of him and crossing out large sections.

“Now, Gemma, did you see who used that big knife?”

“Yes, your Honor, I was struck by the strangeness of it at the time.  The wounds and killing that I saw were all done by the big red haired man behind Mord.  Each time that Mord pushed somebody, the big man would reach around him and cut or stab just above Mord’s Knife hand so that the blood got all over Mord’s hand.”

Sarfin asked, “Gemma, would you point out the big red haired man if he is here?”

TO BE CONTINUED

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[reddielibrary]

Derry’s Maize Maze

Written by @stansbooty

Gift for @billdenborogh

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

Word count: 2796

Rating: T

AO3 Link

Summary: maize (noun): corn maze (noun): a network of paths designed as a puzzle through which one has to find a wayEddie gets lost in a corn maze and Richie goes to find him.

Richie took in the scene around him. The leaves blowing across the grass, his friends bundled up in coats, the Halloween decorations surrounding them, the rickety old sign reading “Derry Fall Festival”. His eyes lingered for more than a few seconds on Eddie, who had never been a fan of the cold, and his unnecessarily thick scarf, giant coat, and adorable beanie plopped on his head. His face was flushed from the weather, giving him a red nose. October in Maine was never kind to them, bringing the freezing temperatures before Halloween even arrived.

“I don’t know about you guys, but that rope swing over there is calling my name.” Richie interrupted whatever conversation his friends were having in favor of pointing over to rope strung up by some giant hay bales.

“You mean the one with the children surrounding it?” Mike asked.

“Hell yeah, I’m bigger than them, I’ll push them out of the way.” Richie responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So, who’s gonna join me?”

“Me, duh.” Beverly made her way over to him, lightly shoving his shoulder. “I’ll race ya.”

A giant grin made its way onto Richie’s face. “You’re on.”

The two of them ran across the field, dodging all of the other guests with ridiculous spins and jumps. At one point, Richie nearly ran into a woman holding her baby, allowing Bev to race passed him with a dramatic battle cry. 

“Ben,” Stan began as the rest of them walked over to the swing. “Tell me again how someone as chaotic as Bev managed to snag you?”

A flush appeared on Ben’s face that had nothing to do with the cold. He shrugged. “Love is weird, I guess.”

Eddie looped his arm around Ben’s and smiled. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Of course, you do.” Bill rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Eddie’s tone changing instantaneously to snap defensively. 

Mike snorted. “It’s just that you find…chaos attractive.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie stopped in his tracks, pulling Ben to a stop as well. “I do not.”

“It’s nothing, Eddie.” He smiled brightly. “Forget it.”

Eddie glowered at him, scrunching up his face in annoyance. “Fine.”

Ben smiled brightly at him. “Don’t worry about it, they’re just joking.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie replied quietly, although he had sensed there was truth behind all of their words.

The five of them continued down to the rope swing, finding a spot to sit on top of a hay bale facing their two friends. Beverly and Richie took turns swinging from one side of the hay to the other, their swinging becoming increasingly more sporadic as they went, causing some of the children to leave in order to prevent getting knocked in the head.

Richie waved widely at Eddie when he noticed them sitting down. “Eds! Come on over!”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m good over here, dipshit!”

The grin on Richie’s face didn’t falter with Eddie’s words. “Suit yourself!”

“I’m joining them.” Bill got up suddenly, after Richie had made a hard fall onto the hay.

“Betraying us sane people?” Stan joked.

“You know that none of us are even a bit sane.” Bill laughed and ran off, yanking the rope from Richie’s hands.

The others watched with a fondness that only came from truly loving their friends with all their heart and soul, despite the absolute chaos, or “idiotic shit” as it was put by Eddie once, that they tended to get into. The key, they’d come to realize, is to stop getting embarrassed by Richie and Beverly, the ones who often started the chaos in the first place.

“I think we should do the corn maze.” Richie ran over after running away from a mother who seemed to think three teenagers had no business on a rope swing.

Stan’s head perked up. “That actually sounds like fun.”

“You sound shocked that I could have a good idea, Staniel.”

“But wait,” Bev said as her and Bill joined them. “We thought it would be a good idea to do the hard part. And, like, make it a race. See who can finish first?”

“Me being able to beat you guys at something while also being able to witness you getting unbelievably lost? I’m very much interested.” Stan stood up, looking at everyone expectantly.

“You know I’m directionally challenged.” Ben laughed. “I could get lost in my own neighborhood.”

“Which is why you’ll be sticking with me.” Bev got up on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “But all you other fuckers are on your own, every man for himself.”

The man at the front of the corn maze had told them that the hard portion could take anywhere from 45 minutes to a couple hours, all depending on how badly a person got lost. An hour and a half later, six of the seven friends stood at the exit, Bill the most recent to get out.

“At what point do you think we should worry about Eddie?” Mike asked.

“Bill just got back, I wouldn’t worry too much.” Stan shrugged. 

“Bill got back 20 minutes ago.” Ben pointed out.

“Well, Eddie’s smart.” Stan replied.

“What? Did you murder him, Stan?” Richie attempted to jump up above the corn stalks to see into the maze, trying to get a glimpse of Eddie, but to no avail.

“Who’s gonna go run back in there? It took us an hour to get out, imagine trying to look for someone.” Stan pointed out and most of them made noises of agreements.

“I’m the one who finished first, in 45 minutes if you haven’t forgotten.” Richie replied and inched towards the entrance.

“Richie, you’ll get lost. And then we’ll have to call a search team for two people.” Mike said, taking Stan’s side.

“Betrayal, Mike, true betrayal.” Richie clutched at his heart. “But no one can stop me.” 

Richie turned on his heels and ran into the maze, ignoring the sounds of protest coming from his friends behind him.

If he was being honest with himself, Richie didn’t know if he would run back into the corn for anyone other than Eddie. Seeing how long it would take for one of his friends to get out, or even having to call a search team of festival employees seemed like a great opportunity for entertainment. But, as always, Richie found himself unable to control himself when it came to Eddie. Bev would tell him it was because of his “cute little cruuuuush” (as she so eloquently put it), to which Richie couldn’t really deny it, but Eddie was also his best friend and he knew he would probably begin to get a little panicked if he was stuck in the corn when the sun began to go down.

Therefore, Richie ran full speed through the corn, not really taking into account with turns he was taking or which direction he was going (he figured if he found his way out once, he could do it again without a second thought).

Eddie considered himself pretty smart. But nearly two hours after entering the damned corn maze, going around in circles like a maniac, and then seeing Richie Tozier running towards him, he was beginning to think he was losing brain cells by the minute.

“Spaghetti! I’m here to rescue you!” Richie outstretched his arms to wrap Eddie up in a hug.

“Fuck that nickname, Rich.” Eddie pushed the other boy off of him. “Are you lost, too?”

Richie scoffed. “Oh no, we all made our way out. I came back in to rescue you.”

“Are you serious?”

“That everyone got out? Yeah.” Richie then smiled triumphantly. “I got out in 45.”

Eddie let out a noise of disbelief. “No.”

“Yes. Who’s the smart bitch now?”

“Oh, fuck off, it’s confusing in here.” Eddie shoved him lightly and with a smile gracing his lips, but Richie made a show out of losing his balance.

“Hey, be nice to me or I’ll abandon you in here.”

Eddie sighed and gestured in front of him. “Alright, lead the way.”

Richie began leading them around the corn, taking turn after turn, nearly making Eddie dizzy at the speed he took them at. He knew that all the cornstalks looked the same, but after what seemed like several minutes, he felt as if he was beginning to recognize some of the stalks.

“You do know how to get out of here, right?” Eddie looked up at him.

Richie made a noise in his throat. “Uh, definitely.”

Eddie looked at him with wide eyes. “Are we fucking lost?”

“No!” Richie protested and then shrugged. “Maybe!” 

“You told me you got out of here!” 

“I did! I…I just forgot?” 

Eddie looked up towards the sky and let out a loud groan. “We’re gonna die in here.”

“Lighten up, we’ll find our way out.”

“No, we’re gonna die.”

“Well in that case,” Richie slung an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, bringing him close. He leaned down to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “We might as well have some fun.”

“Shut up.” Eddie nudged Richie with his shoulder. “No one wants to do anything with your disgusting ass.”

“That’s not what your mom said last night when we were fucking in this corn field.” Richie made a crude gesture with his fingers to go along with his words.

“Richie!” Eddie screeched and shoved the other boy, harder than he did earlier, who lost his balance from the sheer force of his rage and fell back into the cornstalks.

“Fuck!” Richie yelled as he was engulfed by the plants, his body disappearing so only his feet stuck out onto the pathway.

Eddie giggled and kicked one of Richie’s feet softly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m dead, Eds.” Richie replied dramatically, swinging his feet around. “I’m one with the corn now. A child of the corn, if you will.”

“Oh, shut up. You need help getting up?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I live here, this is my home!” 

Eddie scoffed. “Richie.”

“Fine, c’mere.” He stuck a hand out in front of him, his fingers barely making it out of the corn.

Eddie stepped forward, putting a leg on each side of Richie’s to brace himself. Leaning forward, he could vaguely make out Richie’s face amongst the stalks. He grabbed the outstretched hand, preparing to pull him up from the ground. Suddenly, he was instead pulled forward into the corn.

“Shit!” He screamed and fell harshly onto Richie’s body.

“Glad you could join me in the corn, Eds.” Richie grinned.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” Eddie shoved his chest, trying to get up. “Don’t call me that, help me get up.”

“Never.” Richie instead placed his hand on Eddie’s hips, pulling him hard down against his own body.

“Richie.” Eddie gasped and looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly aware of how much of their bodies were touching.

“What?”

Eddie swallowed hard. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Richie grinned and rolled their bodies further into the corn, Eddie could feel the corn closing around them, and they were completely engulfed, the pathway no longer visible.

Eddie’s back hit the ground and he let out a brief “oof” as Richie landed on top of him as well.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just rolling around in the corn, havin’ some fun.” Richie had gone down on his elbows, caging Eddie in.

Eddie took a sharp intake of breath as the other boy moved them, successfully putting all his body weight on Eddie, situated between his legs, to prevent him from getting up at all.

“Richie.” Eddie suddenly felt suffocated. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just messing around.” Richie must have sensed the seriousness in Eddie’s voice because his words came out softer than they had been all day. 

“I -” Eddie tried to find words to say as he noticed how close they were, how they were breathing in each other’s breaths, and their bodies were flush against each other, how Richie was perfectly slotted between his legs in a way that caused Eddie to feel hot all over. “You’re always just messing around.”

“What?”

“Everything is a joke to you.”

Richie scrunched up his face in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“All these jokes, all the touching, you’re fucking on top of me, Richie, for god’s sake.” Eddie tried to squirm away, instead accidently bucking his hips up against Richie’s.

Richie let out sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a moan and Eddie’s face tingled with heat despite the cold. “Don’t do that.” Richie said lowly.

“Let me up then.” He squirmed again.

“I swear to god, Eddie, stop.” 

Eddie flailed his legs, trying to get up, but Richie had several inches on him and a bit of weight, making it a lost cause. 

“Stop.” Richie growled and Eddie looked up to see Richie’s eyes had darkened, his pupils blown. “You’re not.”

“I’m not what?”

“A joke to me.”

“Rich…”

Richie took in Eddie’s face, the red of his cheeks, the wideness of his eyes, the way his lips were slightly parted as he whispered. Their bodies were still pressed against each other and maybe Richie didn’t think this whole thing completely through, but he wasn’t exactly known for thinking things through.

“Rich.” Eddie repeated.

This time, Richie let himself look directly at his lips, the way his tongue swiped out to wet them, a sheen left behind. 

When asked about it later, neither of the two boys could accurately recall which one of them had moved in first. The only thing they knew is that suddenly their lips were pressed together and Eddie’s hands were in Richie’s hair, and his legs were crossed behind his back, bringing their bodies even closer than they ever thought they’d ever be, and their hearts were thumping widely loud inside their chests.

The corn poked their bodies uncomfortably, but they couldn’t be bothered to care, too caught up in each other to notice anything else. One particular movement from Richie’s hips caused Eddie to gasp, his mouth opening to allow the opportunity to deepen the kiss, their tongues rolling against each other. Eddie felt himself begin to sweat underneath his coat and scarf.

Their mouths separated to allow them to catch their breaths, Richie pressing kisses to the side of Eddie’s jaw, not being able to get any lower due to the thick scarf. He settled for pressing kisses everywhere on Eddie’s face, going from his jaw to his ear to his nose to his forehead. Eddie let out a sigh of content with each press of Richie’s lips.

“Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” Richie said, his voice slightly raspy, and leaned his forehead against Eddie’s.

“It’s not a joke?” Eddie whispered.

“Never.” Richie replied.

Eddie smiled. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, too.”

Their matching grins made kissing hard for the next minute. It was nothing more than pressing their mouths together, neither of them wanting to be apart for any longer. Their lips eventually relaxed again, slotting together as if they had been doing it their whole lives.

“Richie! Eddie!” 

Voices boomed through the field and the boys had no choice but to separate, suddenly noticing the setting sun around them.

“Shit.” Richie muttered.

“Guys?” They could recognize Bev’s voice close to them.

“We’re right here!” Eddie yelled back.

“Where?”

“Uh…in the corn!” Richie responded. A light flashed in Richie’s face. “Fuck, Marsh, point that somewhere else.”

Bev spread the corn apart with her arms, looking into the dense plants. “Why the hell are you in there?”

“We fell?”

She looked at them with a glint in her eyes and smiled. “Sure.”

The two boys scrambled to get up, groaning as they occasionally kneed or elbowed one another, until they fell out in the maze pathway.

“We had to tell the employees and get a map, so I hope you’re embarrassed.” Bev crossed her arms and tsked.

“I guess my rescue mission was a fail.” Richie shrugged.

She took in their flushed faces and swollen lips, as well as Richie’s tousled hair. “I don’t think fail would be the word I would use.”

“Oh!” Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie and pulled him into his chest. Eddie pushed his head into the boy’s torso, hiding his face in embarrassment. “I did catch a nice Spaghetti.”

“Richie, shut up!”

“You have to be nice to me now, Eds, it’s law.” 

Eddie peeked up from his spot against Richie’s chest to look up at him, both of their faces glowing bright red with matching blinding grins. Maybe getting lost had its perks.

[leviathanhomecooking]

RumRollins Week, Nov. 27th: Home

Content Warnings: Murder, Dead bodies  •  Based on

Brock can barely think straight beyond the piercing shriek of his daughter’s wailing. He’s been up since 02:00 but he’s been accruing a massive sleep debt for a while now. If it was anybody else’s kid Brock would have probably strangled it by now, but Brock has a soft spot for Abigail’s chubby red cheeks and big doe eyes. Even now, screaming quite a few decibels beyond what Brock will tolerate, snot and spit smearing over the baby’s face from endless fits, and probably all over something silly that Brock has yet to decipher, he can’t be mad at her.

But he can be mad at Jack all he likes.

Jack, who has been for the past 30 minutes on hands and knees in the living room wiping blood from between the cracks in the floorboards over the spot where the antique coffee table used to be. The one his Nonna left to him in her will that is now very fancy, splintery firewood. 

Brock slaps the towel in his hands onto his shoulder and throws his hands up in defeat. “Okay, time to switch. I’ve done literally everything! She’s not wet, she’s not hungry, she won’t go to sleep! I don’t know what she wants!” 

Jack sits back on his heels to look at his flustered husband standing in the middle of the kitchen. Their baby is still trapped in her high chair and screaming bloody murder. "You can’t just push her off on me when you don’t know what to do, you’re her dad too.” Jack sighs. He rings out a rag into a bucket of red water.

“Now’s really not the time for a parenting lesson. We need to get that thing--” Brock points to a very human-shaped garbage bag wrapped in tape lying next to shreds of their coffee table, “outta here.” Just looking at it almost pushes Brock over the edge, social services can just waltz in whenever they want because he and Jack had the nerve to adopt a baby instead of cum one out like the billions of other people on the planet, at least during this temporary grace period.

Jack concedes and abandons the floor in favor of washing his hands and arms thoroughly before finally taking Abigail in his arms and bouncing her gently. He whispers and coos to her, patient in all the ways Brock isn’t. “Sun's still up, better to move it later after dark.” He says in between his cooing. Brock is grumbling to himself.

“S’Your fault we’re in this mess 'n the first place...” Brock mumbles.

“You really want to have this conversation again?” Jack’s reply is more of an icy threat. 

Brock huffs, trying to avoid rekindling the flame of a very raw, very recent argument. Brock can avoid Jack’s gaze all he likes but he can still feel the man glaring daggers at him. “Your daddy’s a ripe old bastard.” Jack whispers to Abigail, whose fit has deescalated to only big, tearful sniffles. Neither have ever played the blame game against each other and won, best to let it lie.

After Brock dumps out the water, he seals up the soiled mop and rags in plastic for disposal later. This would have been a lot easier with one of Hydra’s clean up crews, but they’ve already asked Pierce for far too many favors as it is. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Fuck, that’s probably that bitch social worker again.” Brock curses. He doesn’t know what crawled up her ass, but she likes to harass them almost on the daily. 

“I’ll get the door, you get that fuckin’ thing outta here.” Brock orders, referring to the very obvious corpse in their living room. “Where?” Jack asks, because there’s nowhere in the house they could hide it. Many of their doors have outside locks in order to store their personal weapons and confidential work documents. The social worker takes a locked door as a challenge. 

“Somewhere outside, figure it out!” Brock orders, marching towards the door after the second ring. But when Brock flings open the door, he’s not met with sour face of their heavy set social worker.

“Surprise!” A chorus of familiar voices cheer. There, standing on his porch, are several of their coworkers. Brock blinks like a dumbass and what falls out of his mouth is, “What the fuck?”

“You rat bastard, you didn’t tell us you were adopting a baby.” Johnson says. “No way you get out of us throwing you a baby shower!” Rodriguez chimes in. Rogers is looking sheepish, clearly he was roped into this by the rest of the team.

Brock can’t believe this. They pulled this same stunt after he and Jack got married without telling them. Except they had enough boundaries to ambush them at work—and treat them to an obnoxiously inappropriate penis-themed wedding party. A man’s house is sacred! What used to be a safe place for him and his loved ones now keeps getting violated by trespassers! 

Brock’s clenching the door frame so hard it’s splintering. “If now’s not a good time we can go.” Rogers suggests warily, always the courteous boy-scout. “We’ve got gifts! Real gifts this time and not just dildos! Baby stuff.” Rodriguez chimes in, rattling around a wrapped package. Brock’s gotta stall, he can’t have Rogers or Romanoff catching a glimpse of Jack moving the body. He reluctantly lets them in.

Meanwhile, Jack covered the body bag with a blue construction tarp and is dragging it down their side yard. There’s a hole he dug at the side of the house from when they were repairing the foundation, it’ll have to do for the moment. There’s a flew planks covering the hole, so he moves them aside so he can roll the bundle in. There’s a heavy thud and Jack can see a trickle of red dripping from the bundle. 

There’s nothing he can do for now, so he heaves himself up to cover to hole but freezes when he sees a figure standing a few feet away. 

It’s their social worker.

.

When Jack walks back inside, he’s heaving like he just ran a marathon, looking like a deer in the headlights seeing his friends and coworkers in his living room, fawning over his daughter, and Rogers putting some contraption together with Dwyer’s help. Brock approaches him, Abigail in hand, and already knowing what Jack is going to ask says: “It’s a surprise shower, apparently.”

“We’ve got a problem.” Jack says.

“Fuck yeah we do.” Brock replies.

“No, we have another problem.”

.

When Jack lifts the tarp of the hole in their yard, Brock nearly blows his own head off because lying there on top of the black garbage heap, is the stiff body of their social worker, neck jutting at an unnatural angle. His home is turning into a nightmare murder house real quick. 

“Okay, this one might actually be my fault.” Jack says.

Brock has a feeling there’s about to be three bodies in that hole.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Heartbreaker ~ Bellamy Blake (part 4)

A/n: This got a lot more attention than I thought it would. If anyone wants to have me start a tag list for this story just let me know :)

Word Count: 4528

MASTERLIST

Wells' death was hard on me. I was there for Clarke though mostly, which meant far less time with Bellamy. We hadn't talked about the kids or what was going on between us or where we stood yet and it was taking a toll. But Clarke was my friend and the pain she was feeling over losing Wells was more important than my romantic drama with Bellamy.

When Finn asked me to give them some space, I snuck away while he confronted her to give her some gift he was so excited about. I was sure things were fine and I had no worries.

Until I saw her bare wrist. I caught her arm as she passed me. "Clarke," I whispered, eyes wide.

She pulled her arm away. "Not now." I let it go, stepping away and getting back to work.

Just to have Murphy piss me off. When he whipped his wang out to pee on one of the others, I shoved him. Hard. He missed the kid completely. "What the FUCK is your deal?" I screamed. He faced me, our chests touching. He was taller than me but I was angry. "Get over yourself Murphy you're nothing special. Learn to back off. Bellamy said to give the kid some water."

He sneered, "You're not one to go around preaching about what Bellamy says. Aren't you team Clarke?"

"We're all on Earth you dimwit! There are no teams!"

Hands were pushing us apart and I looked over to see Bellamy himself. "Both if you calm down," he snapped. "Y/n, come with me. It seems you two need some space from each other." A look crossed Murphy's face and I could hear the words he wasn't saying in my head so clearly that I got even angrier. Teasing us about having sex or making out. Poking fun at Bellamy because he could have easily pulled Murphy away but he didn't. He pulled me. I pushed his unheard taunting words out of my head and followed after Bellamy. "What's your deal with him?" he asked. "You're usually pretty level headed these days."

I actually smiled, but it didn't last long. "He just gets under my skin. He's ruthless and seems to genuinely like hurting people. I don't feel safe with him around. And when I don't feel safe... I lash out, I guess." Bellamy nodded but before anything else could happen, Octavia and Jasper were rubbing up to us, babbling about something they had seen in the woods, and Murphy was forgotten.

Wells' missing fingers had been found and after a quick conclusion that his murderer had been on of the 100, my brain was packed with red tinted images of Murphy covered in Wells' blood. If I didn't feel safe around him before, I felt actively in danger now. I was relieved when Clarke went after him.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, shoving him hard. I watched from the tent entrance, fighting a smile. I shouldn't get joy from her pain or from Murphy's death, but... after seeing him walk around here like he owned the place, stepping on people like no one but him and Bellamy meant anything at all... I got some satisfaction from it.

"What's your problem?" he asked, laughing. The bastard.

"Recognize this?" Clarke asked, drawing Murphy's eyes as she held up to the blade.

Murphy shrugged. "It's my knife, where did you find it?" He went to reach for it but Clarke pulled it out of his reach and his hand fell to his side.

"Where you droppe dit after you killed Wells," she accused roughly.

People began gathering and Murphy seemed to stop short, his mood completely changing. "Where I WHAT?" he spat. There was a silence. And something... something was off. "The Grounders killed Wells, not me."

Clarke stepped closer to her and that anxiety and fear rose up in me again, but for her, not me. "I know what you did, and you're going to pay for it."

"Really?" Murphy eased, disbelieving. "Bellamy you really believe this crap?" He looked at his leader but Bellamy didn't say anything. I stepped forward, moving so I was next to Bell, even if we were fairly delegated by space. He was diagonal from Clarke, to her right, and I was the same but to her left. We stood a ways back, watching and unsure.

"You threatens to kill him, we all heard you," Clarke reminded, her voic elevating. "You hated Wells."

Murphy crosses his arms over his chest. "Plenty of people hated wells. His father was the chancellor!" His voice rose for that last part, as if announcing it or using it as proof. If he wasn't guilty, why did he look and act and sound so defensive? If he did, why did it feel like there was something VERY odd about this whole thing?

Clarke's voice knocked me out of my thoughts. "Not many people got in a knife with him!" she yelled.

"Yeah I didn't kill him then either," Murphy ground out.

Octavia took a small stepped forward, from standing next to her brother to standing in front of him. "Tried to kill Jasper too."

A tension rang out for a few solid seconds and I looked at Murphy calculatingly. He had fear. Real fear. But not guilt. Not the darkness or the torment of a murderer. But if he was unbothered by killing Wells, did that make him innocent or psycothic? "Come on this is ridicuslous. I don't have to answer to you- I don't have to answer to anyone!"

"Come again?" Bellamy piped up.

Another long pause. Shuffling. Tension. Awkwardness. Hesitation. Then Murphy broke it, walking past Clarke to his leader. "Bellamy," he said rather evenly. "Look, I'm telling you, man. I didn't do this."

Bellamy's eyes narrowed. "They found his fingers on the ground with your knife."

"Is this the kind of society we want?" Clarke yelled, grabbing everyone's attention again. She looked around and then looked at Bellamy, her eyes intense and her gaze accusing. "You say you want no rules- does that mean we can kill each other without- without punishment?"

Murphy stepped towards her and there was an honesty about the way he did it. No bravado, like when he played strong and brave for everyone else. "Look I already told you, I didn't kill anyone!" he seethed.

"What if he's telling the truth?" I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until that tense silence was back again and everyone was looking at me. Each and every person had an equally surprised look on their face- even Murphy. I found the need to defend myself. "I mean, just because it's his weapon doesn't mean he was automatically the one that wielded it. Just like Wells used Bellamy's gun to shoot that lion-tiger-whatever thing in the woods when you went to get Jasper. We've all heard the story." I stood taller. "Sure he's a dick and a hot head, but we know that he's all talk. No matter what he says I don't think he would really kill a person unless he absolutely had to. He can't even stand up to Bellamy without shaking in his boots." He glared at me but the look was softer than usual. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

Clarke turned to face me, anger rolling off of her in waves. Did K just out our friendship on the line for a douchebag I absolutely hated? For MURPHY? "And what if he's lying? There's plenty of evidence- I don't want to give him more time to do more damage!"

Then someone said the two words I thought I was free from and with that one phrase a type of fear I didn't know I could feel coursed through me, freezing my blood and turning my bones to steal. "Float him."

Clark whipped around to face the speaker. "That's now what I'm saying."

"Why not?" the boy asked. "He deserves to float. It's justice."

"Revenge is not justice!" Clarke snapped back.

"It's justice! Float him! Float him!" And he started cheering. The crowd around us roared and echoed his chant. It was so loud I was knocked out of my state of shocked fear and I ran to Murphy's side just as he jerked forward. For that reason only I was able to fight some people away... before a hand came across the side of my head and I was knocked flat on my back. The crowd wa smiling and I was groaning to get to my feet. I was moving, fighting, running. And then everything changed.

"Bellamy. You should do it."

Clarke was screaming, begging him not to. He didn't hear her though. He made eye contact with me and I gave him a very dark look. I mentally screamed at him not to do it. "You left Atom, I know you're not a killer!" That phrase seemed to tip him off.

He kicked the stool out from under Murphy and I was suddenly losing my center of gravity. If I was struggling with me feelings for Bellamy before, it wasn't a struggle anymore. "This is on you, Princess!" He screamed at Clarke. "You should have kept your mouth shut.

Finn ran into the scene and went to save Bellamy but he was cutoff bu the bitch boy that had started this whole thing. Bellamy was stopping Clarke and I wa the only one left. I grabbed a knife from my waist and and pushed through the crowd. The blade slid across someone's skin and caused even more panic as Charlotte screamed, "STOP IT! STOP! It wasn't Murphy didn't kill Wells!" We all grew quiet but I wasn't looking at her, I was moving to Murphy. "I did."

My blade hit the rope and Murphy fell. I was at his side immediately. "Murphy?" His fingers wrapped around my wrist gently, air desperately screaming into his lungs. My eyes skipped right over Bellamy's and I felt the pain in his chest at my complete rejection without even having to see his face for long at all. My eyes landed on Charlotte. She looked terrified and for the million time since I'd been on Earth, I was faced with another dilemma that should have been easy... but wasn't.

-

"BRING OUT THE GIRL BELLAMY!" I was the only thing that stood between a raging Murphy and Bellamy, Finn, Clarke, and Charlotte, who were inside the tent. I had my arms crossed over my chest. I wouldn't let him kill her. That's all I was thinking right now. "I thought you were done with him!" he spat at me. "I almost got killed because of her!"

"And killing her is just as bad as them trying i kill you," I replied with complete monotone.

Inside the tent, Bellamy sighed. "Why Charlotte?" He asked the young girl.

"I was just trying to slay my demons," she whimpered. "Like you told me!"

"What the hell js she talking about?" Clarke snapped.

Bellamy wa struggling. "She misunderstood me," he mumbled nervously. "Charlotte that is not what I meant."

"BRING THE GIRL OUT NOW!" Murphy screamed again. He took a step closer and I brandished my blade. He stepped back again.

"Please don't let them hurt me!" Charlotte begged, near hysterics. I couldn't just stand here for much longer. I was so tired of this...

"If you guys have any bright ideas, speak up," Bellamy grumbled. Defeat was so clear in his voice that I felt my insides begin to twist. She couldn't die. She couldn't die. She couldn't die. But there was quiet in the tent and my stomach twisted tighter. "Now you guys stay quiet?" Bellamy snapped.

"Those are your boys out there," Finn shot back.

"This is not my fault," Bellamy stayed clearly. "If she'd listened to me, those idiots would still be building the wall!"

Murphy was getting restless. "You want to build a society, Princess?" he screamed. "Let's build a society! Bring her out!

"No!" Charlotte screamed. "Please Bellamy." Her voice was soft and wet with emotion and I grunted, my teeth clicked together to right my jaw was burning.

There were whispers I couldn't hear and then Bellamy was exiting the tent. I stayed back. I didnt want to be anywhere near him right now. "Look who finally decided to join us," Murphy spat as he approached rather quickly.

"Dial it down and back off," Bellamy ordered clearly.

Murphy stepped closer again. "Or what?" He was covered in blood and my face contorted with pain. I wanted it to go away. I wanted what just happened to be rewound and hidden, buried deep and out of sight forever. "What are you gonna do about me? Hang me?" I flinched.

"I was just giving the people hat they wanted," Bellamy told him without a single care in the world. Without a lick of guilt. I didn't realize I was glaring at him until Infelt eyes on me and looked over to see Murphy looking. Then I was knocked out of my thoughts and felt the shape of my face and forced it calm. But Murphy had already seen it- the damage was done. "Yeah," he said in the same tone. "That's a good idea." He turned around to face the crowd behind him. "Why don't we do that right now?" I felt my heart drop into my toes. "So who wants to see the real murderer hung up? All in favor?" He rose his hands. His little buddies rose their hands. Maybe five people... out of the total ninety-something of us there were. Ouch. "I see." The words were filled with so much anger they seemed to ooze out of him like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube. "So it's okay to string me up for NOTHING, but when this little batch confesses, you all let her walk?!"

Silence. Dead silence. He turned to me again but this time I wasn't afraid. "They're dicks," I agreed. All eyes turned to me. "They're irrational and stupid." I looked directly at Bellamy. "This is why we have rules." My eyes moved back to Murphy. "RULES. A WAY we do things. Justice, NOT revenge. A non-bias judge. Shit like that. People just wanted to kill you because as much of a dick as they are, you're MORE of a dick. Dragging her out here is not going to reverse what's been going on this whole time. It's going to make it worse!"

His face twisted with rage. There was no talking sense into him. "COWARD!" he screamed. He stormed at me but Bellamy intervened, probably saving my ass.

"Murphy!" he hollered, face aged with dark seriousness and demanding leadership. "It's over."

"Whatever you say Boss," the bloody boy replied far too evenly. Bellamy turned away from him, catching my arm as he passed. Whatever his intentions had been, they were ruined when that second of distraction allowed Nurohy to grab one of the log chunks and whack it over Bellamy's head, knocking him unconscious. Octavia ser off screeching but all Murphy did was turn to his boys. "Let's go in and get her." I held my ground as they approached, but one of the guys stepped forward, catching me off guard as they didn't go to grab a weapon but wrapped their fingers around my throat without hesitation, squeezing my air pipe until I was unable to call oxygen into my lungs. There was shuffling and screaming but all I could see were the dark eyes of my would be killer and hear the rushing of blood in my ears as my vision started to spot and my body began to seize up.

"I SAID LET HER GO!" Air suddenly flowed back into my body. "She was there, at the beginning. Don't kill her." I hit the ground hard, gasping desperately to get my body regulated again. A hand rested on my back. "You okay?" I looked up to see Murphy. My eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You have my back, I have yours. Even if you are a pain in the ass." Then he stood and was gone.

-

"You can't go with me." I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious, Y/n! I'll move faster alone and if I get in trouble I don't want to have to face down Murphy with you there- even if he does suddenly have some soft spot for you."

"She's my friend too!" I argued, my voice hoarse and cracking. The sound made him flinch.

He moved closer and I stepped away. Pain briefly showed on his face before he hid it. "Please stay here?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Get the rest of these guys into line. I need you to be their leader just for a second. You always know what to say, what to do. Do it. Help them. I'll be back with Charlotte and we can figure something out. Okay?" When I didn't say anything he sighed. "We can fugue EVERYTHING out later."

Everything. The way he said it and the look in his eyes when the word came from his mouth. I thought of the kids neither of us had talked about. All that time hating me and now he was just as mixedbuo and lost as I was. I'd been stupid to think things would just go back to how they were before just because I confessed to him. But now it wasn't just about the rift between us because he thought I turned his sister in. Now t was about him giving in to everyone and kicking that stool away, despite me and Clarke and the justice that was demanding be served. There was a whole world between us and ut was all a mess... the promise of a solution. Of returning back to what we once were, or even just defining what we could or had to be in the lives we lived here, as the people we are now.

I stepped back. "Fine."

I would never see Charlotte again.

-

"Y/n?" It was the sixth time my name had been called in the last two minutes. They'd been trying to get through me to me for about an hour. Octavia was taking care of Jasper and Clarke was with Bellamy, explaining the situation - which is what set me off and sent me into this mode in the first place- and then ran off with Finn to get updates with the communication bracelets. After everyone had parted ways, I'd found a small corner to hide. Bellamy had found me. He was having absolutely no luck getting through to me.

"So much..." I whispered. I wasn't totally sure I was speaking out loud but I didn't care. "Pain. I think I almost find the good in people. I almost fix it. Almost get there. Almost solve the puzzle. Almost calm down. Almost find my place. Almost find my place. And then soemthing happens. They die or almost die or kill someone." I scoffed. "Wells. Charlotte. I could have even seen Murphy, maybe. If he calmed down or I could get through to him. That would have been an interesting friendship if it worked out." I shook my head. "I need my own friends. I keep making the same friends as you and Clarke and Octavia and I just want my own friends that won't die. So that I don't feel like we HAVE to work out because then I'll lose them or have to see you with another girl because I'll have to be around you all the time. I- It's so much... I've been alone for a long time and si thoughts this place would be different. And- and it is. Different. It's so much worse."

Bellamy sighed after it got quiet, signaling that I was done. "Y/n..." He say next to me. "I've always believe that love and fear and such emotions that made you irrational or complacent were dangerous because they'd get you killed. But you... you wear your wildest, ugliest emotions on your sleeve. Even when you're stone cold you still radiate your emotions, like they're coming off of you in the air or something. You have a way of finding the hope in any situation. You're strong and you're... your place is here. Working, supporting. You don't fight for power- you're fine speaking up for the little guys and supporting the big guys- as long as you find it right for you. If you disagree, you have no problem fighting for what you believe in. I know we've been through a lot in the last few days but I just need you to be okay. I- I can't lose you too."

I looked at him. "You would have let him die."

His face exploded with guilt. "He wasn't a good guy."

"He trusted you. Supported you. Obeyed you. He's as much a dick as that kid who strung him up. As much of a bad person as those that beat him up and cheered as the air left his lungs. As twisted as the piece of shit who tried to kill ME. He's messed up Bellamy, just like all of us. What about you? What did you do to get on the dropship, hm?" He looked away. "That's what I thought. None of us are really good people. Clarke could be close but she's too reckless, forgetting that other people don't think as she does. Aren't as strong or as centered or as driven or as... anchored to life as she is. We're the best we can be and that's all we can really offer. So what made him different? He was a shitty boss? He acted out more than the rest of us? He wasn't afraid to do and say the things that everyone was thinking about? Hell if he's condememned for being a bad leader then you deserve to die too." He flinched. I looked away.

"Y/n...."

"Charlotte's dead too now." And she killed Wells because- like what the fuck is wrong with us? God..."

Bellamy slowly, softly guided me closer, pulling me to him without forcing me so that if I wanted to pull away, I could. But I didn't. And when the side of my head touched his chest, I lost it. He held me and I cried and tried to breathe and make sense of the chaos of my thoughts and emotions right now. But it didn't make sense. Not at all.

My wrist burned and I hissed, jerking away from Bellamy to look down. The bracelet on my wrist had opened, falling to the ground. My eyes widened. Bellamy and I looked at each other. What had just happened? I stood, ready to hunt down Monty or Clark and make sense of why my wristband had turned off. Bellamy caught my wrist. "Wait." It was the one the wristband had been on and to feel him touch the skin there was weird. It was tender and too soft and tingly. I paused, looking back at him. He had a sort of desperation on his face and my body relaxed a bit, melting under it. I could see the questions flashing through his mind but didn't know what they were, and he seemed too overwhelmed or clueless or confused or something because he wasn't vocalizing any of them.

"I know you've been sleeping around," I mumbled. His eyes widened even further. "I'm not mad." I scoffed. "It actually gave me a moment to show how great I am at comebacks. And we're not... together. So. It's whatever. Just thought you should know, I know."

He stood. His hands went to either side of my face and he pulled me to him, smashing our lips together. Tension snapped and emotions ran free and I clung to him, pulling him as absolutely close as I could. For the second time, we kissed.

He pushed me and I tripped over something. He was only nudging me really, trying to guide me, but I'd fallen anyway. Thankfully he'd been there to catch me. "My tent?" he whispered.

I rolled my eyes, mind racing with everything going on but my heart ramming against my ribs, overpowering it all as it was super charged from his touch. His kiss. "Really, Bell? Charlotte died today. You almost killed Murphy. My wristband came off and- what if everyone's did? Why now? Why so suddenly? There's a whole world flipping on its head- my world- and all you can think about is sex?"

"You know what I'm thinking about?" he demanded of me. I paused and then shook my head. "The girl I love used me for what the fuck ever and then sold my sister out for brownie points with the counsel. For a year and a half I wa sure you were garbage, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't REALLY believe it. I couldn't shake you. You would pop up in my head at the most random moments and my whole body would ache someone was digging invisible needles into my nerves at night and then leaving me with the pain in the morning. I couldn't shake memories of kissing you or holding you or hugging you. I couldn't forget your laugh or your smile or the way your hand felt in mind. And then, I find out that the world I've been dreaming about escaping to in order to get away from you is finally mine! But you're here to taint that too, and actually, it's a total shit hole where nothing is right and it all just completely sucks. And then... you suddenly AREN'T the scum of everywhere and I don't feel wrong for wanting you and I can have you, so please excuse me for wanting you after all that."

I smiled weakly. "I'm sorry Bell..."

His forehead touched mine. "I'll forgive you for that if you forgive me for Murphy."

Honestly that was fair. I nodded and he moved close again, our breath mixing in the air between us. "Let's take it slow though. It's overwhelming just to be close to you touch you? Kiss you? Dear god, have sex with you? I might lose it." He laughed. "I'm serious! After losing you... thinking I'd never see you or O again, ever. I shut off. Turned into a robot for a year and a half. And ever since I heard your voice again all those emotions have been back except this time I don't know how to deal with them and on top of that it's been one thing after another-"

"Slow," he mumbled. "We can take it slow." I smiled gratefully. "Sleep in my tent tonight? JUST sleep, I promise. I just don't want you out here, out of sight and unprotected, when I have spit on my bed."

My face split in a grin. "I would love that." That night I slept in Bellamy's tent, in his arms. His breath was cool and his body was warm and I have never slept that well in my life.

[douxreviews]

The Handmaid's Tale - ‘Unfit’ Review

"I've never seen anyone so devoted."

Like the Canadian story line, the flashbacks in this show are often a welcome relief from the horrors of present day Gilead. This time, not so much.

Let me start by saying that Ann Dowd is absolutely awesome as the fearsome Aunt Lydia, and a flashback to her past should have done more to explain her character. Instead, even in her past, Lydia was taking children from their mothers while pontificating about her good intentions. She is just as conflicted and confusing as she always was. Maybe there's just no explaining people like Lydia. Or anyone who fits in Gilead.

Lydia Clements was a fourth grade teacher who used to work in family law. She went from judging Noelle, a poor young mother with a bad job, to helping her financially and giving her emotional support (which was lovely), to initiating legal proceedings that successfully took Noelle's son Ryan away from her. A remarkably bad thing that followed a remarkably good thing, and note how Lydia's clothing and hair style changed from loose, comfortable and attractive to a Gilead-like shapeless outfit and restrained bun.

This was tied in to Lydia's possible new boyfriend, Principal Jim. Lydia and Jim seemed so well matched: both were single again with careers in education, and clearly religious since they both quoted the Bible in casual conversation. Jim even said grace in the karaoke bar before they ate. (Karaoke "Islands in the Stream." Too cute, and adorably out of character for Lydia.)

Why would their aborted lovemaking on the couch push Lydia over the edge into such overwhelming shame, into violently destroying her own image in a mirror? Was it because she finally allowed herself to acknowledge her own sexual needs, and being rejected was too heavy a blow? For that matter, why did Jim stop? His wife died three years ago. Was it really too soon for him, or did her aggressive move on the couch turn him off? And why did this incident make Lydia turn on Noelle? Because Noelle had encouraged her to date again, had given her makeup?

Tying this into our lead character, we've all been wondering how June is still alive considering how badly she's been acting. I think June is too angry right now to be frightened of what could happen to her. Maybe Aunt Lydia sees June the way she saw Noelle, as someone she would try over and over again to push in the right direction – until she didn't. This doesn't bode well for June.

I enjoyed the three gossipy aunts around a table matching Handmaids to Commanders more than the flashbacks. This was background that we needed. Aunt Lydia complained about June's misbehavior, but then she talked about June being misled. "We never had issues with Ofjoseph before the Waterfords. A problem household, to say the least. And she was there for all that business with Emily." Aunt Elizabeth added, "And Lillie." It's an explanation for why June is still alive and undamaged. Not a great one, but an explanation.

During the almost comical testifying scene in the gym, June did acknowledge that Frances' death was June's fault, and that Hannah would suffer for what June did. And then June took that opportunity to turn on Ofmatthew, saying truthfully that Ofmatthew didn't want her baby. We learned that Ofmatthew thought her baby was going to be a girl this time, and she didn't want to bring a daughter into Gilead. I so can't blame her.

During their shopping trip to Loaves and Fishes, June smiled as Ofmatthew snatched the guardian's gun and went on her desperation spree, and then she nodded when Ofmatthew was aiming the gun at her. I think June was ready to die. When Ofmatthew changed her target to Aunt Lydia, I was yelling, "Kill her!" Sadly, no. The death of Ofmatthew and her possibly female fetus, along with the death of Ofandy's baby girl, felt like a metaphor for the murderous sickness of Gilead's culture.

Racism in Gilead

This is the second episode in a row that featured the horrible death of a black woman. It's also the first time race was so much as mentioned. During that fascinating scene with the Aunts and the sherry and the files on the lazy susan, Aunt Lydia said that one of the Commanders didn't want a Handmaid of color. Racial prejudice exists in Gilead, but it is kept on the down low. Under the table, pun intended.

Critics of this show talk a lot about intersectionality, how jarring it is that Gilead is all about the misogyny while racial issues don't seem to exist, and really, I totally get that. It's a major change from Atwood's book. In reality, a fascist, misogynistic society like Gilead would almost certainly be deeply racist as well. I initially thought I understood why the producers made this decision. They wanted the focus of this fictional dystopia to be the oppression of women, period. There is also the practical consideration that if they had adhered more faithfully to the source material, the entire cast of this series would be white.

While I was thinking about what I would write about this episode, I realized that I hadn't thought through that assumption. They could have kept Gilead logically racist by having Handmaids of color while all of the Commanders and Wives were white. White slave owners in the past often raped and impregnated their black slaves, didn't they? And of course, June could have still had a black husband and daughter. I wonder why they didn't go that way? It would have made a lot more sense.

More glowing comments about the photography

As usual, the photography in this episode was spectacular. I was particularly struck by the from-above shot of Handmaids circling Ofandy with comfort and hugs, June in the snow with a red umbrella on her way to Loaves and Fishes, and the camera attached and moving with Ofmatthew's gun. The most striking was the line of red blood on white tile as Ofmatthew's body was dragged out of the store; it reminded me of the red ropes they use for hanging.

And the flashbacks were so pretty that they often looked unreal – the diffused lights on the Christmas tree, the sparkling clothing and hangings at the nightclub, the New Year's Eve glitter. I'm sure that was on purpose. The unreality, I mean.

Do they celebrate Christmas in Gilead? Has it been mentioned? It seems unlikely. But I didn't think they would have dancing, either.

Bits:

— The name of Hannah's Martha wasn't mentioned in the previous episode, but here, the very first scene started with June talking about Frances, and what an ordinary life she led before Gilead. Much like Lydia.

— Janine was kindness itself toward Ofmatthew, and when Ofmatthew lost it in Loaves and Fishes, she beat the crap out of Janine. It would have made more sense if Ofmatthew had attacked June, instead.

— During the birth scenes and the testifying, the Handmaids were acting a little like a bitchy high school clique. "Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby!" actually made me laugh.

— June told Joseph Lawrence that he wasn't protecting Eleanor, he was suffocating her. Lawrence didn't take the bait. I'm starting to think the Lawrences are in danger. Gilead turns on its own on a regular basis. No one is safe.

— The Lydia/Ryan twenty questions scene that opened the flashback began with Ryan asking, "Am I alive?" I wonder. Is he?

— Gold acting stars for Ashleigh LaThrop, who played Ofmatthew. I wish we'd known her character's real name. Maybe we'll find out what it was at the beginning of the next episode.

Quotes:

Aunt Lydia: "Tell your friends to cool it." June: "I'm sorry, Aunt Lydia. I don't know what you're talking about. You want to take my tongue out? Burn my arm? Better hope they don't need me on TV again for Nichole."

June: "How did that rhyme go? The one we'd jump rope to? Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. A game to tell what our children would grow up to be. The list is a lot shorter now, especially if it's a girl. Martha, Jezebel, Handmaid, Wife." What about "Aunt"?

Noelle: "You're a fucking coldhearted bitch!" Lydia: "I forgive you."

Aunt Lydia: "Sometimes it's the apple, and sometimes it's the barrel." Aunt Lydia has decided it's the barrel this time. She wants to transfer June to another household. Uh oh.

June: "I hurt her. and I enjoyed it. The wives and aunts, too, grieving over Ofandy's dead child. And Lawrence. They all deserve to suffer. It's an acquired taste, seeing others in pain. Like that smoky scotch Luke got as a gift once. I grew to like that."

June: "I finally know how Oflgen felt, what made her put on that bomb vest. […] And I know how Emily felt, right before she stuck a knife in Lydia's back." Again, it sure sounds like June is ready to die.

This is the second episode in a row that I didn't much like. Two out of four smoky scotches.

---

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

[happyorogeny]

The Gossip Chapter 6

(~4,400 words)(Illidan, Rommath, Maiev)(tw injury, field medicine, mention of spouse death) 

Read from the Start

Rommath had considered the entire situation in excruciating detail and come to a firm conclusion:

He did, indeed, hate everything.

He did not, however, hate everything equally. He was an egalitarian man. The main target of his vitriol varied from moment to moment. But as of now it was this rain. Outland’s rain was different to that of Azeroth. He was quite sure it was sapient enough to know malice, for it hammered down as if angry and had leaked through the one loose stitch in his right shoe.

He despised how cold he felt, stiff and weary as if he’d walked day and night in driving rain. Kael had been warming the air around them for the past day and he noticed the absence more keenly than he cared to admit. 

He hadn’t commented on Kael’s interference. No need to embarrass both of them. Instead he organized Kael’s papers and saddlepacks, knowing well that he tended to live in a state of barely organized chaos. No wonder he’d lost the last report. Rommath had found it crumpled in his bed between three blankets. Doubtless he had told himself he would read it before sleeping and then immediately dozed off.

He hated the workload that left Kael so weary that shadows haunted his eyes, that his voice had developed an edge like a rusty razor.

He also hated this cough, a wretched thing that sat on his throat and caught him out at the worst moments, such as after climbing this entirely ridiculous staircase. It took him far too long to get back to Kael’thas’s chambers. He probably had a room of his own somewhere, but he would hear nothing of that. He needed to be where Kael’thas ought be, to carry this deception off.

It couldn’t take more than a day, right?

It was absolutely going to take more than a day.

He decided he hated Illidan also, given that he was a flashy braggart with too much hair and a ridiculously husky voice who appeared out of nowhere to give folk a shock. Who walked around with magic rippling off them like that, preening and showing away? He was worse than Kael’thas after he cast his first fireball, an event that had had the prince strutting like a cockerel for six weeks.

Was this honestly the same Illidan that had saved arcane magic, that had planted the seeds for their culture? Rommath had some serious concerns, and-

He paused a moment to take a deep breath. The healers had said to avoid stress, as if that were possible, had told him to rest and recuperate from his illness. They’d looked worried when he laughed, wondered if the illness could lead to minor hysteria.

Well, he didn’t quite have a solution to the greater problem of Kael’thas is in danger and I can do nothing but he did have a way to calm himself.  Somewhat. A number of travelling merchants had set up in Quel’Thalas, selling anything and everything at reduced prices to the desperate Sin’dorei. He had picked up some exceedingly ugly green wool from an enthusiastic goblin saleswoman. While he waited, he would cast on a scarf and order his thoughts as he worked. And by the end, he would have something useful.

He would gift it to Aethas, he decided in a fit of spite. Somewhere public so that he would have to pretend he appreciated it.

Ah, what a relief it was to be petty again. Surely all other problems were small and manageable if he had time to be petty.

His knitting went well for three hours, while the rain hammered down relentlessly. He kept time by his stitches. Inspiration struck him by the 35th row. He wasn’t the only one here with the interests of the Prince at heart.

Do’rai was late with breakfast. He opened the door only a crack so that she couldn’t see into the room.

“Ah, excellent. Could you be so kind as to call Mei’le? I think she’ll be in the morning garden.”

“Oh!” Do’rai looked a little taken aback as he took in the tray. “Of course!”

Mei’le, at least, appeared with due speed. Perhaps a little too much speed, for she was clearly out of breath when she knocked. She almost managed to make it look elegant, leaning against the doorframe in a draped ivory gown that alternated between loose and figure hugging. He was briefly impressed by the tight weave of the fabric.  

“Why, good morning Grand Magister, fancy meeting you here.”

“I asked you here.” Daft creature.

She had also brought that nice man from the Den, Xi’an. He had some interesting if indistinct ideas about the combination of varying schools of magic, and a very pleasant voice. Rommath froze briefly. Mei’le nodded in understanding.

“Too much?”

Rommath managed to steady himself.

“Can I talk to you alone, a moment?”

“Of course!”

Xi’an straightened, inclined his head with much elegance and sauntered off. Mei’le paused the moment she stepped inside, but had the good grace to wait until the door was closed before turning on him.

“What have you done with Kael?”

“Excuse me?” His hackles went up instantly – how dare she accuse him of doing anything to Kael’thas?! And threaten him with that tiny knife while she was at it! “Put that silly thing away! I need your help!”

She gasped suddenly, big brown eyes going even wider.

“Oh my goodness, they’ve eloped haven’t they?”

What? Kael’thas had said nothing of a paramour! That explained amount of crumpled paper in his wastebasket. Kael was a dreadful romantic, who pined and sighed and developed an alarming tendency towards maudlin poetry.  

“Who!?”  

She pursed her lips, somehow without smudging the red lipstain.

“Why, him and the Highlord, obviously.”

“What? No!”

“Don’t lie to me! Illidan’s enchanted with him, never shows his face in the Den unless the prince is there.”

For Sunwell’s sake- although Kael’thas was very beautiful and that might explain all of his idiot prancing on the balcony last night- Rommath shook himself.  

“No, that isn’t the case. Illidan is- away on a mission and Kael’thas has gone to aid him.”

She nodded with a wise air.

“A good cover story. Somewhat uninspired perhaps, but-”

“I need your help keeping an eye on things while they are gone, and keeping the fact of their absence a secret.”

“Of course! We can say he’s sequestered in council with yourself, and I can act as witness.” She plopped herself onto the divan with an alarming lack of decorum. “How long must we spin this out?”

…

Illidan’s magical display turned out to be mostly show and little strength. As if a fall of twenty foot would do more than irritate them! Maiev hopped upright and dusted herself off, indignant at the loss of her gauntlet.

Her ears twitched inside her helm as she listened to the watchers calling to one another, counting each voice. Her heart slowed as she heard them, one by one. 

He’d almost killed Ki’ra. An arrow from one of her sisters had drawn his ire instead, distracted him away from the fallen watcher. A second more and she would have died. Maiev had been too far away to reach her.

She found herself clenching her fist so hard the metal buckled. She had tackled him directly to distract him from the others. She had been certain of it, that he would focus on her beyond all other threats. 

Foolish of her. She had been certain of many things. All had come to change.

Maiev closed her eyes a long moment.

In any decent world she would be at home in the forests. All of them together. They would forsake their armour for mourning veils and their hunting songs for laments. She would spend her night making cairns, drowning in her grief. That was the way of sorrow. It swallowed a person, became a part of them. In any decent world they would be enduring the process together, in peace, in darkness.  

Instead she was here with those who hadn’t been murdered. Instead of grieving they suffered anew. Instead of drowning, she burned. They were denied peace and place to weep because no one was inclined to do their duty.

Irrelevant. Soon enough she would have his head, and could finally set down her weapons.

Limestone crunched underfoot as she trotted over to the edge of the chasm to squint upwards.

Those sisters who had escaped the collapse were tying rope to their sabers and throwing the coils down into the crater. Those still stuck in the shallow collapse were digging one another free, or forming stacks so as to climb out. Truly this was a cursed place, with the flesh beneath the surface rotting away like a months-old carcass. One day the whole thing would collapse in upon itself.

Swift’s head appeared over the edge of the cliff. She mewed upon spotting Maiev and started to purr loudly. Relief swept through her. Swift sported a nasty gash upon her forehead but seemed well enough aside from that.  She had feared Illidan would kill her out of malice.

Though the greysabers had performed well, their personality still needed work. She had had neither the time nor the generational effects to encourage the stoic attitude befitting a wardens mount. And so Swift was anxious as a kitten and tried to reach for her with gigantic grey paws.

Maiev continued hammering a handhold into the rock. It was porous and weak enough to yield to her as much as it yielded to magic. Swift paced anxiously atop the cliff, head bobbing as she sought a safe place to jump down to. She eyed her briefly and then whistled, calling the saber down. 

She disliked asking the sabers for vertical leaps except when absolutely necessary, for fear it would strain their spine. But Swift seemed hale enough.The foolish beast had even fetched her gauntlet and now deposited it proudly at her feet, then rolled over for a belly scratch.

She took a moment to comb the burrs out of her fur and checked her over visually for injuries. Swift had lost her saddle somewhere in the fight, but her fur was thick enough for Maiev to cling to her back as she leaped upwards out of the crater.

Maiev ran a quick eye over her fighters. She’d seen no fewer than three occasions where the greysabers had whisked their riders away from a deadly blast of magic or a lethal kick. Illidan had knocked a few of them senseless but everyone was up and moving.

They hadn’t escaped completely unscathed. Pia was in the process of setting a badly broken leg while the watcher in question held on to Ki’ra for comfort. Maiev knew at a glance the woman would never run again. 

One of the greysabers crouched over her warden, nuzzling at her. A rider badly injured, but not dead. She had to tense herself so as not to move forwards. She had been a healer once, but that wasn’t her role here. She would interfere with the work of the skilled medics.

Leaning back, she searched through the women again. Lyr, Cai and Lief all moved with the stiffness of wounds that would get them killed. She urged Swift over to Lyr and dismounted so as to take a coil of rope out of her hands.

"Go back to the camp."

Maiev was already turning away as the warden startled upright.

"What?"

"Illidan didn't kick you in the head. You heard me. Back to camp. Send up Zia and Ni'lya as replacements."

"But-"

Maiev didn't quite turn back. She had not invited discussion. An order was an order. But she did pause. She had asked only for volunteers to come to Outland. With half their sisters dead, the other half were enraged enough to follow her without hesitation.

Lyr was a steady woman if perhaps overly sedate, good with sabers and meticulous to a fault. She had lost a lover in Illidan’s initial escape. She had every reason to stay, every reason to want Illidan’s head. No wonder she was stubborn.

Maiev schooled herself to patience and took her by the elbow, towing her away from the group.

"Sash wouldn't want you dead out here. Neither do I. I have neither the time nor the earth to bury you."

Lyr looked away, flushing indigo. Perhaps she thought Maiev hadn't noticed them, that she would disapprove. Maiev noticed everything. She simply didn't care. Why would she? The wardens weren't statues of marble, though they were often treated as such. As if they were cold and hard as their armour, devoid of every heartfelt longing.

“Go back. Rest. And send up a talbuck for the greysabers.”

Lyr finally relented and went to her sister companions. They were injured, but not so badly that they couldn’t return to the travelling camp.

She restrained a brief twitch of irritation at the thought of the train following them. As well as her elite fighters and their mounts she had collected a few independent druids, a scattering of Broken fighters and camp hands and no small amount of dranaei varying from rangers to healers to madmen. 

She felt as if she were at the head of a travelling circus rather than leading a stealthy hunt in search of a monster. But she couldn’t deny that the range of skills was useful to them in this dreadful place.

Pia had been one of the first healers to join them, against Maiev’s express wishes. She had smuggled herself along under one of the talbucks they brought for meat and milk. The act of stealth had been impressive enough that she allowed her to remain. Maiev was something of a healer herself, and she knew enough to realize Pia outclassed her. The wardens were low on allies at the moment. She wasn’t one to disdain a knife just because she fought best with the glaive.

Pia trotted over to her now, blue hair tucked neatly around her horns. She carried a small earthenware pot and began to daub its sticky contents carefully onto the gouges Illidan had left on her shoulder.

"It's quite alright Pia, please tend the girls." 

Pia blinked at her with huge purple eyes and pointed. Sure enough they already bore the green bandages that advertised her work. She had learned early that Maiev would refuse treatment until everyone else was seen to.

Maiev relented and extended her hand for examination. She’d often enough ended up with fel poisoning after fighting Illidan, for even stray flecks of blood or spittle seemed toxic enough to harm a normal creature.

“Where did you go, during the fight?”

Pia closed her eyes as she often did when translating something back to herself, then wrapped her brown cloak around herself and lay flat on the ground. Maiev was almost impressed. The dranaei would indeed to invisible to a casual inspection. 

“Good. Be sure to keep a greater distance next time. He grows more wicked with fear.”

She’d done this dance before. For all his cowardice Illidan had only grown stronger over time, and more vicious. It usually took three encounters before he was tired enough that they could actually drag him down. Even then he was hale enough to fight them for hours, and had left many a warden so crippled as to be beyond fieldwork.

Had left many dead. Too many.

She would challenge Tyrande over this when she returned. She would have satisfaction from the woman who usurped her as High Priestess, even if it killed her.

Pia glanced up at her anxiously as the rage swept through her, quick as a forest fire. Maiev shook her head.

“Continue your work.”

All her anger could be held in abeyance. What she needed now was patience. And afterwards, she could grieve. But not now.

That first clash had been informative indeed. She closed her eyes to replay it back, image by image. Her memory had always been ironclad and acute, like a series of paintings laid out one after another. Hateful as it was to see Illidan in her mind, there were important things to note. He’d put on weight, a tricky thing for someone who flew everywhere. So this Temple of his wasn’t on the verge of starvation. What a shame.

In addition to that he had powered through injuries that would have stopped him in his tracks before this nonsense with the skull. And the wings were a problem. Fast and sharp, with a long reach. A risky move on his part, but one that had carved a deep grove into her chestplate.

They would weave iron fibers into the ropes, so that he couldn’t cut himself free so easily. And someone or something to act as a constant distraction so as to protect them from magical attacks.

Well, she had always thought of herself as very diverting.

She lifted her head to peer towards the clouded mountain peak and cursed this wretched sun that left her half blind. Clair and the others had gone ahead to lie in wait upon the mountain. By now the lack of smoke signals surely told them they must be ready. They might even be fighting him already. But she could hear nothing, see nothing…except…

She was a stranger in this place, but something about the slope of the mountain made her wonder. Those could be rugged paths, long ago carved and now abandoned. She lowered her head and closed her eyes briefly as they watered in protest from the light.

“Pia, tell me, is there anything up there that someone might fly to for shelter?

…

Illidan climbed into the sky until the wardens were swallowed by silence and distance.

Three times he almost turned around. Many a grievance he had to visit upon them. Three times he wrestled all his violent instincts back. There was work to be done elsewhere.

Satisfaction sat warm in his chest. Over a dozen of them couldn't capture one blind man? For shame. Maiev was getting slow in her dotage. In a sudden surge of energy he tucked his wings in and dived, twisting in a corkscrew spiral as he went. The laughter that echoed back off the mountain was unfamiliar to his ears, though it burst from him like music from a harp.

How pleasing the knowledge that a castle with thick walls and strawberries awaited him. It had been long and long since he'd had a home to be sick for. He rolled onto his back to feel the sun on his face, letting himself dip backwards through the sky.

Kael’thas would have a fit if he saw that, convinced he would crash. A very elegant fit containing phrases such as have we considered and please bear in mind.

Spreading his wings once more he flipped over and glided to a light landing upon the mountainside. His left knee almost folded beneath him, so that he briefly stumbled and had to flap most inelegantly to remain upright. Insects squirmed out of the scree around his hooves and wriggled away from the felblood dripping off his wings, trickling down his leg. It hissed and smoked upon loose stone as he studied the harpoon yet wedged into his thigh.

Somewhat clever, he allowed. It had been simple enough for him to stitch the restorative abilities of fel onto the sensation of pain. The brands etched into his chest and shoulders combined with his own sheer stubbornness allowed him a near-impossible level of control over fel energies. By the time he killed a demon they were usually covered in his blood, and his injuries already closed.  

Maiev had seen this new skill and adjusted her tactics. How to harm a creature that healed as quickly as she hurt them? Weapons that shattered, shrapnel, poisons. Always this was the way with them. She could run him into the ground so he sprouted wings. When he could fly she created nets of wire, greysabers, harpoons. He fought alone, she brought a mob.

The harpoon had cut right into the thick arteries of his leg. It needed to go. Hypocrite that she was Maiev could likely use some form of druidic magic to track him through it. He wasn’t so blind as to miss the druids in cat form amongst them, glowing emerald around the edges.

Vashj would sigh at him for returning with injuries and hide her frown behind a fan. Even after all this time she retained the mannerisms of a noblewoman. Kael’thas would pretend not to notice a gaping wound- drawing attention to pain and weakness seemed a gauche act amongst them- but he would stay nearby while discussing trade opportunities and scouting reports, radiating heat. Later, Illidan would receive an entirely coincidental invitation to a party with a variety of restorative herbal teas.

This could be done slowly or it could be done with speed.

The result was a burst sizzling blood upon the stones of the mountain and decision to take a few moments rest upon the rocky slope. It was peaceful up here, without wardens or demons to harass him. He flex his left wing carefully, feeling for stiffness that might affect his maneuverability. Once he had returned to – home - he would go down to the drying room, startle all the laundry workers and borrow a few warm towels so as to loosen the sinews.

How odd to find himself suddenly wistful. Though the mountainside was beautiful and solitude was often bliss, he missed the noise of the temple. Long and long ago he had enjoyed isolation and the peace it brought. But he had had his fill of it. He wanted to be blinded by light and life, deafened by sound. He wanted to sit like the moon surrounded by stars, with voices just on the edge of his hearing, with wisps of subtle perfumes and bright flecks of arcane experimentation.

What a strange twist of fate to have all the best parts of Highbourne existence returned to him. What a curse that they might be dying.

He could do with their company now, truth be told. Imprisonment had left a hollow place inside him, a place of echoes in his chest, a hunger. It was satiated near the brightprince. Their conversations were brief, but Illidan had never spoken so freely to anyone in so long.

He would betray him eventually. He would grow desperate. Illidan knew what desperation did to a person.

He could limit that desperation. He just needed to...closing the portals had given him time, but not infinity. Kil'jaden had realized he was more than a mere nuisance. An army was massing to deal with him. He needed something to push them into retreat. Retreats became routs.

Fortunately he had had time to prepare a plan. Demons replenished themselves. That had always been the ineivitability of it. They mocked you as they died and returned to hunt you down. It might take centuries but they came again and again, wearing their targets down by persistence. Not unlike the watchers, really. 

Demons renewed. But not in the Nether, and their worlds were fragile. If he could destroy their resources, he destroyed their ability to wage war. A portal backlash would do it. He had studied the structure of world crusts, the delicate balance of rock upon magma, shamanic writings on the structure of planets and the birth of worlds. As with all things they were marvels and yet delicately made. He didn’t have to rely on brute force. Set one thing askew and all others would falter. Such was the way with planets, with bodies, with societies.

A thing off-balance was easy to push over.

Finding them ought to be the simple part. The Legion was hardly subtle. But they kept the location of their portal hub planets a secret. He'd almost had it out of Ma'niqu, dragging it from the demons mind.

No matter. He would find the demon again. Or another would be sent after him.

Vashj knew his ways, had known him before the time of wings and scales. She understood he kept his plans close to his chest. Kael’thas did not. All he knew of Illidan was stories, his actions in Felwood, the fact he’d fallen to the wardens once before. That type of thing didn’t tend to engender faith.  

He wanted to tell Kael'thas, more than anything. Already the Prince doubted him. But such knowledge would make him a target. Could scupper them all should he turn coat.

A shadow flickered over his face, too large and too close to be a bird, too quick to be a cloud.

He had lingered too long.

…

Rommath was under siege. Kael’thas hadn’t been joking about the determination of some of the noble families here. He’d had to use a teleport spell on a particularly determined healer to stop him from getting in the room.

The word was out that the Prince had fallen sick. While everyone had their own pet theory, the favorite now was mage-flu. In a way he was relieved. For about an hour there had been talk of the plague coming through the portal and he had wanted to bite his knitting needles in half in frustration. That was a hysteria he did not wish to calm.

But the plague was marked by a long incubation period, by bloody coughing and paralysis. It wouldn’t have struck Kael’thas with such speed or such silence.

Rommath’s instincts served him well for Mei’le had great knowledge of the temple and its intricacies and rapidly proved herself invaluable. Everyone would talk to her and even those that didn’t trust her could be persuaded. But she was one woman. She reappeared to Rommath around midday and whispered that Akama had vanished.

“Perhaps he has gone to work in privacy, with Illidan gone.”

“Perhaps. The orcs also seem…tense.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“Not like this. I think- folk are talking of a meeting between the Prince, Akama, Vashj. They’ve noticed they were left aside.”

Rommath supposed that did look quite grim from an outside perspective. He would have suspected foul power plays, if it were him, he would have suspected alliances made against him.        

And now he heard footsteps hurrying towards him. As if he hadn’t enough to worry about. He opened the door before Do’rai could knock, causing her to almost fall in once more.

“What is it?”

“The orcs. They heard tell of secret meetings. The elders want a council with the Prince.”

Of course they did. Rommath pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Thank you for reading <3

[infires-fanfic-blog]

The Scarlet Lust - BTS x Reader (18+) (7)

CHAPTER 7 - RAGE (Word Count: 4,669)

       It had been a week since the incident with Jin happened. After Yoongi had helped me heal, Namjoon had received word from their Master who had put a week long ban on anyone drinking my blood or even touching me as punishment. Punishment to Jin for doing it, and punishment to everyone else for letting it happen and not stopping it much sooner.

Apparently, their Master was not big on those with a lack of self control. All Namjoon said (with quite the irritated look in Jin's direction) was that their master said, "If you can't play nice with your toys, then you can not play with them at all."

I wondered how he even knew about me and the situation so fast, but he is their Master after all. He must know everything that happens with them instantly.

While their punishment was carried out, I was damned to be holed up in my room during the nights so that there was to be no temptation. Not that any one of them dared defy the word of their master in the first place. I was very curious of what their master was like, but also a little terrified at the thought of meeting him. If he had this much influence over them, he must be a force to be reckoned with.

During the daytime, they either stayed in their rooms or somewhere down in the basement with all of those books. I did not know what other rooms were down there though, since I had only been in the library.

I was free to roam about the house and the gardens of the estate, but I dared not exit the black gate to leave. I didn't even have the urge to strangely. Although I already knew the reason for that. I was bound to them, but I was completely fine with that fact. I simply belonged here now.

Today however was the first night that the ban had been lifted. Strangely though, I had not caught sight of any one of them anywhere. I spent my day going from door to door and room to room, looking for someone or something to help ease my insufferable boredom. I sadly had no such luck. Why don't they have a TV even in this huge ass house? I would have to ask them about it later.

I decided to head down to the basement to see if they were there, but oddly enough the door was locked from the inside. What could they be doing down there?

I sighed and settled upon going outside to feed the coy-fish pond just to pass the time.

First though, I went up to my room and changed into a long flowy white dress that reached my ankles in length since my current outfit was getting too hot for me to stand to wear it any longer. The dress was comfortable, and the fabric was light and allowed airflow so I never overheated in it. Although it was fall, it was a warmer night than usual.

I exited the house and went outside into the moonlit yard and I was surprised about how bright it was. Oh, that's right, tonight is was the full moon. The soft light of the moon lit up the yard in the gentlest way as I danced about on my way to the pond, fish food in hand.

As I arrived at the pond, I noticed something was not right. There was not a single fish left in water. Instead, I was greeted by the dozens of fish corpses that littered the area around the pond. Some had bites taken out of them. Some were crushed completely, and some were simply laying still and lifeless on the grass.

I gasped instantly, running over to the fish. All of them were dead...

Wait! I saw one fish weakly moving it's gills. I could save this one! I quickly grabbed the fish from the ground and gently placed it back within the water. It swam furiously and was obviously glad to be safe in the water. What had done all of this though?

I began to examine the rest of the fish and looking for signs of life. These fish were expensive as hell after all.

Not even two seconds later, I was startled by a strange sound. A growling sound. It was directly behind me.

I instantly turned around but all I saw was a flash of brown as a great beast hurled itself at me, pinning me to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. I screamed a loud and high pitched scream and tried to defend myself, kicking mercilessly at the beast as it shredded my favorite white dress to smithereens and cut my skin all over in the process.

Since I was now a human servant, I had increased strength, but not as much as vampires had. I was still weak in comparison, however the small amount of strength that had been gifted to me upon my transformation allowed me to hold the beast's massive jaws away from my neck and face as it furiously snapped at me, longing to devour my throat for the kill.

Although it would not be able to kill me, I had already acquired an extensive amount of damage to my body as the creature continued to tear at the flesh of my stomach, arms and legs. I felt each searing gash that was inflicted upon my body and I screamed in pain. However, I was desperate still to get the beast off of me.

I wished that my Masters would hear my cries. I longed for them to come and take me away from this terrifying creature that I held back with every ounce of my strength.

Suddenly, I thought of all of them at once and I felt a strange burst of power. Three strange powers began to build up inside me and combine into one. I concentrated on the feeling as my body was still being mauled by this...thing.

The power began to bubble up inside of me and I felt it grow out of control as I screamed in pain and in amazement at the amount of power. Then, in a split second, I released the power within me with another mighty scream which immediately launched the beast off of me.

I quickly stood up, looking at my blood-drenched body that seemed to glow with a purple aura. I furiously approached the stunned and frazzled creature and began to kick it in the ribs, head and stomach as it yelped in pain. I felt it's bones snap under the force of my blows.

"YOU...KILLED...MY....FISHIES!!!" I screamed in a voice that did not quite seem like my own with each attack that I delivered to the beast. I normally am not one for violence, but the joy I felt as I harmed this thing was amazingly exhilarating. I kicked and kicked until the creature became unconscious, but it was still breathing.

After the surge of power and anger left me suddenly, I stared down at the shallowly breathing form as it began to shrink. It's hair shed from it's body, leaving behind the form of a naked, bruised and bleeding man. What the hell?

Without thinking twice, I picked up the man and brought him into the house. I put him in a secure and empty guest bedroom, tied him up with the rope from the nearby curtain and locked him in. That should hold him for now until he wakes up. I would get down to the bottom of all of this ruckus if it was the last thing I do. But first, I had to deal with the condition of my body.

As I looked down at myself (I was naked due to that guy shredding my clothing off of me), I was completely covered with many numerous razor like gashes that left me stained practically from head to toe in my own blood. Some cuts were deeper than others, and some were so deep that I could see the veins and muscle beneath my skin with little difficulty.

After taking full realization of my current state, the adrenaline wore off and I began to feel all of the pain associated with my injuries.

I was still bleeding from the deeper gashes, which let blood flow from my veins freely and drip to the floor below me in a trail as I walked to the bathroom. Good thing the carpeting was black. Now that I think about it, maybe that is why it was black in the first place. Vampires, blood, it made sense. Cleaning the carpets would be hell otherwise.

I made it to the bathroom and began to dig through the cupboards for antiseptics or bandages or something, anything to help patch myself up for now. I was beginning to lose too much blood again. But of course, they are vampires and had no need for such things so I was completely out of luck.

I sighed and decided to run myself under the water of the shower for now to try to clean my wounds and almost slipped on the white linoleum floor that was now puddled red with blood. I turned on the shower to a barely warm temperature and sat under it since I was losing strength in my legs.

The water both stung a lot and was soothing at the same time. Some of my wounds had stopped bleeding, but there was a rather deep cut in my left wrist that just would not stop bleeding no matter what I did. In frustration, I found a pair of scissors and cut up a white bath towel into a makeshift bandage and groggily tied it around my wrist, hoping the pressure of it would slow the bleeding.

After scrubbing myself off (the soap burned like a son of a bitch by the way) I simply layed under the running water of the shower and stared at the white of the bathroom wall. I was too tired and fed up right now to feel much of any emotion and too weak to care to do anything else but lay there for now. After a while, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing and the sound of the running water as it began to grow colder and colder as the minutes passed.

I must have dozed off, because I was suddenly awoken by someone yelling "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

I opened my eyes to see a very confused looking Jungkook who had an equally as confused looking Jimin trailing behind him.

Jungkook immediately ran over to the remnants of the white bath towel that was laying on the floor next to the pair of scissors, and then looked at my arm. A look of pure disgust swept across his face.

"You... murdered my favorite bath towel." he said in a numb tone as he lifted up the scraps that were left of it, then allowed them to fall back to the floor as he shot me a rather nasty look. All of a sudden, Jimin became visibly enraged.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!" he yelled, making me jump a bit, "I think we have MUCH bigger problems to worry about than your stupid ass white towel! Do you see those cuts? She should have been healed by now if they were any ordinary cuts. Don't you recognize the shape of them? Those were obviously made my a Lycaon you dumb ass! That means that there was a FUCKING WEREWOLF HERE YOU THICK HEAD! GO GET NAMJOON, NOW!"

"Hyung, my towel was not stupid, and what do you mean a-..." Jungkook started to say, but was cut off by a infuriated Jimin as he yelled at him once more.

"I SAID NOW, JUNGKOOK!" Jimin roared with wild eyes, which caused Jungkook to angrily stomp away after giving me another dirty look that had 'this towel business is not over between us' written all over it.

Jimin's gaze softened as he looked at me shivering under the now ice cold water of the shower. He walked over, turned it off and retrieved a towel from the dressing table. He wrapped it around me, then got another one and began drying my hair. He stopped however as Namjoon walked in.

He immediately looked at me and Jimin, and made a small shoo motion with his hand. Jimin got up and began walking outside of the bathroom before Namjoon caught his arm.

"Wait in your room. You will deal with it this time. Please, as a favor. I just have some questions that need answering first." Namjoon said in a brotherly manner to Jimin. Jimin nodded and finally exited the room. There was an obvious look fear behind his eyes.

Namjoon then walked over to me and crouched down to my level since I was still shivering on the floor. Since he was so tall, he had to scrunch his body down quite a lot. He pulled me close to him to warm me and began asking questions.

"How did this happen?" was all he said.

He looked me in the eyes as I spoke, reciting the tale of how I went out to feed the fish, the attack, the power I felt, then me kicking it's ass, knocking it out and it turning back into a man.

"You... knocked out a werewolf...?" Namjoon said with a snicker at the end that he obviously could not contain from letting loose.

"Yeah, I mean I guess so." I said as I looked up at him with a innocent face.

"Well after you escaped he probably came to and ran off... damn it." He said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, I dragged him into the house, tied him up and locked him in a bedroom." I said with the same naive and innocent face.

Namjoon's eyes got big as he exclaimed, "You did WHAT?!" before asking what room I had placed the beast in. I told him which one, and Namjoon immediately called for Jungkook.

Jungkook sulked back into the bathroom and was ordered by Namjoon to pick me up and to follow him to the room that I had described. As we walked down the hallways trailing behind Namjoon, I noticed Jungkook's face was visibly very red as he held me in his arms and his breathing was very controlled and shallow. I don't know if it was the fact that I was naked apart from the towel, or if he was still upset about me ruining his towel. I felt really bad about it though.

"Master... I'm sorry about your towel. I will get you a new one of your choosing, no matter how expensive. I promise." I said to him.

As soon as I called him master, his face turned even redder. Aren't vampires supposed to be pale?

As we reached the room I had placed the tied up werewolf in, Namjoon stopped us from entering with him.

"Thank you for... ummm... 'taming the beast' (y/n). Now, if you will excuse me I think it best that I deal with this situation alone for now. Jungkook, if you would deliver (y/n) to Jimin's room for me, I would be grateful." Namjoon said.

Without a word, Jungkook turned around and began to walk us away from Namjoon. I looked back as I saw Namjoon disappear within the room before we turned a corner, leaving him far from my sight.

I turned my attention back to Jungkook who was carrying me without saying a word. He looked down for a moment at me and immediately looked back up with a bright red face once again as he noticed that my towel had slipped from my chest.

I quickly fixed the towel, but his face was still very red and he kept his eyes straight forward as he walked. Out of curiosity, I placed my hand on his red face to see if it was warm. He immediately stopped walking and looked me straight in the eyes with a hard look on his face. I quickly retracted my hand from fear that I had upset him even further.

It was then that I noticed that I had embraced his face with my bloody towel-wrapped hand. The blood had soaked through, staining it deep red and he caught a huge scent of it when my hand was near his face.

Jungkook visibly flinched then immediately started walking in a fast pace, but he did not bring me to Jimin's room as he had been told to. Instead, he brought me to a nearby spare bedroom and tossed me on the bed, locking the door behind him afterwards.

"What are you doing to me? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Jungkook questioned with pure fury in his stare as he angrily approached me on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook... I-..." I started to say, but I was left in a state of surprise and shock as he interrupted my words by ferociously smashing his lips into mine. He kissed me deep and hard with so much force that it was on the verge of painful, yet strangely I liked it and reciprocated the kiss.

What is happening? It always seemed as if he hated me. He always kept his distance from me and only approached me when he was told to by his Hyungs. Why was he now kissing me so deeply and intensely?

Jungkook then untied the towel from around my arm and slowly and savoringly licked my wound with the utmost care. His gaze turned back to me as he released my arm and pushed me further onto the bed. He climbed on top of he, letting his weight pin me down.

"You ruined my favorite white towel. This is payback, bitch." Jungkook whispered aggressively into my ear as he ripped the towel away that was covering my body.

He moved from on top of me a bit, but still had me pinned down as his eyes scanned my body. His face became slightly red once more, however this time his eyes shone a very clear feeling of lust and need instead of the embarrassment I sensed before.

Jungkook bent down and licked me from my sternum all the way to my neck, firmly cupping my breasts and squeezing them slightly as he did so. When his mouth reached my ear, he began to whisper softly in my ear once more.

"I will heal you this time. Voluntarily." he mumbled as his bottom lip grazed my earlobe, causing me to tremble beneath him. He brought his face close to mine and smirked devilishly, revealing his bunny like teeth due to the small response that I accidentally let loose. His eyes held a sense of darkness that was hard to describe.

"Thank you, Master..." I breathily responded. I reached up and began to run my fingers through his hair. Jungkooks face twisted into a look of both anger and slight amusement at my touching him affectionately.

He then stood up and hastily began to remove all of his clothing. He was wearing a dark red button up shirt, black slacks and a black jacket that was all fitted to conform against his body perfectly. He threw his clothes carelessly to the floor and accidentally popped some of the buttons off of his button up, but he didn't seem to care. He continued to undress until he was fully exposed to me.

He stood there breathing heavily for a few seconds and I was able to drink in his beauty with my eyes. His dark brown hair was a tad ruffled since I had carelessly ran my fingers through it. His face was manly, handsome and very well proportioned. His eyes were dark and mischievous in nature, and his slightly bunny like teeth added the slightest bit of cuteness to his masculine appearance. He slowly licked his lips, and the sight of it screamed of pure and utter temptation.

His body however, was truly glorious. He had a firm and toned chest, a slim and narrow waist that tapered down to a well defined buttocks. His thigh muscles were strong, sturdy and powerful. He had strong, muscular arms that made him slightly intimidating. I thought to myself; with those arms, he could either hold you safely and tightly, or crush you completely.

I could see that his member was already quite erect. It was large, muscular and veiny and seemed to match the powerful aesthetic of his body perfectly. The mystery of his capabilities added a dark thrill to the back of my mind as I too began to breathe heavily at the mere sight of him before me.

Jungkook took slow powerful strides towards me until he reached the end of the bed, like a lion on the prowl. He then firmly grasped my jaw in his strong manly hand as I lay there on the bed waiting in anticipation. He turned my face to look forcefully at him.

"Now, little slave bitch, tell me how much you need me..." Jungkook demanded darkly with the same predatory look in his eyes that intrigued me and made me feel crazy from his dominance.

"Master... I need you. I need you so bad that it hurts." I whimpered breathily as a tear escaped my eye, for what reason the tear appeared, I did not know.

"Good bitch." Jungkook practically growled as he pounced on top of me resulting in the bed shaking from the force of his power, and causing me to yelp from the impact. He immediately reconnected in a deep, passionate kiss that caused our tongues to tangle and dance together in a battle of dominance and rage. This boy must really like angry sex.

His locked hands with mine and pulled my hands above my head. His hands were bigger and stronger than mine, and practically engulfed mine in his.

He then released my hands, allowing his to then selfishly wander all over my body. He ran them down my arms to my breasts where he roughly massaged them causing me to whine into his mouth. He broke the kiss and spoke roughly against my lips, allowing his to brush against mine as he did so.

"Oh, you like that slave?" He teases as he moved his hands down the curves of my waist down to my hips. He then spread my legs wide, kissing me once more as he did so.

"Well how about this?" he whispered edgily as he used his fingernails to scratch my inner thighs from near my core all the way down to my knees with both hands. It stung the cuts that riddled my body, but it sent a massive feeling of pleasure and need at the same time and caused me to moan a bit louder beneath him in a slightly high pitched tone. I threw my head back, my eyes fluttering dreamily.

The look he then gave me was a look of pure victory. A look that said, 'I know how to make you tick, and I am going to have fun with it'. He moved from on top of me and slid me up onto the bed more before turning me to my side and positioning himself with his manhood before my eyes and his face directly at my core.

He grabbed a strong hold of his shaft as he stroked it before my eyes, allowing low teasing moans to escape his lips. His member's head glistened with precome as he slid it tauntingly back and forth between his grasp.

"Would you like to taste it, slave?" Jungkook growled in a low voice, biting his lip with his bunny teeth and breathing heavily.

"Yes, Master... very much so..." I replied in a small, submissive voice.

The same devilish smirk crept up on his lips as he brought his member close enough for my eagerly awaiting mouth to reach it. I salivated at the mere thought of his throbbing manhood in my mouth, and I was thankful that it was about to become a reality.

I gently and tenderly enveloped my mouth around the head of him, and slowly let my moist lips slide off of his head so that I was able to lick away his precome in one motion, permitting a low moan to escape from Jungkooks mouth as he watched me with expectant and dark eyes.

I then took hold of the length of him and put his head back into my mouth, rolling it around gently and teasingly on my tongue before taking in more of his pulsing length. I moved my head up and down on his length with each bob of my head, taking more of him into my mouth than before.

Jungkook began to moan deeply with each playful suck and ended up tangling his hands into my hair, guiding my head as he gave small encouraging thrusts into my now almost full mouth.

"Oh, you naughty girl..." Jungkook moaned as I swiftly drew the entire length of him into my mouth finally, allowing him to reach beyond the back of my throat as he thrusted into my face.

Luckily, as I had found out before, I have no gag reflex and his manhood fit much more comfortably into my mouth than Yoongi's had, so I did not feel the need to come up for air since I was still able to breathe decently well.

As I began to suck him deeper and harder into my mouth, Jungkook began to bite my thigh, not too hard, yet not necessarily gently as he began to slowly pet the sweet spot between my legs.

I released stifled moans around his member, which caused him to shudder due to the vibrations surrounding him in my mouth that was added to the sucking I was giving him.

Jungkook then pulled my core all the way to his face and buried his mouth into my womanhood. He began to skillfully lick and tease my clitoris with his tongue while moaning pleasurably against my most sensitive area due to the pleasure he was receiving from me, which sent me into a frenzy of moans while I was still locked around his eager shaft.

He appeared to be lost in the feeling as he continued to eat me with his eyes dreamily shut, simply following his instincts as he swirled his tongue in masterful, yet not necessarily controlled motions.

He soon removed his face from my core, and ran his hand along my most sensitive parts. A moment later, he had inserted three of his fingers into my sopping wet hole. He had curved them to hit in just the right spot as his fingers explored my insides, all the while rubbing my clit with his other hand and gifting it long pleasurable sucks and licks here and there as he saw fit.

I became a complete moaning mess to the point where I had to remove him from my mouth for fear of losing control and accidentally hurting him. As I released him from my mouth, I began stroking him in a bit of a fast pace with my hand.

He smiled up at me, his mouth glistening with my wetness.

Suddenly, there was a loud series of bangs on the door. I jumped a bit, moving away from Jungkook in my startled state and I covered myself with the blanket on the bed. Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed with an agitated expression.

"JEON JUNGKOOOOKKK, YOU SELFISH ASS MAKNAE!!!!!" an angry voice bellowed from the other side of the door.

A moment later, there was a large cracking sound as Jimin busted down the door with his shoulder. He entered the room and stood there, breathing heavily with a very pissed off expression on his usually kind and peaceful looking face.

Shit.

[impracticaldemon]

That Scottish Play, or Beware the Bard : Halloween Fic Exchange

by Impracticaldemon  for @siriusly-random  ~ HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! @fic-writer-appreciation 

Words: ~ 3400 | FFnet | AO3 (link coming shortly)

A/Note: This story is written as a gift for @siriusly-random for the  Fairy Tail Halloween Fic Exchange.  [Graylu]

With apologies to Shakespeare (Macbeth, Hamlet, As You Like It, Othello), my readers and well... you'll see. I honestly have no idea where this story came from. It may have been inspired in part by Terry Pratchett's brilliant stories. The opening certainly is.  I hope you will enjoy the madness within! .

That Scottish Play, or Beware the Bard [Part I] - Death by Shakespeare

"When shall we three meet again?" asked the red-haired witch, swirling her black cloak dramatically about her with obvious enjoyment.

"How about next Tuesday?" replied the smallest witch, whose blue hair matched the inner lining of her own cloak, which hung very nearly to the floor. Heedless of pretty satin, she turned to pick up her white feline familiar. The fact that her familiar was also wearing a black hat and cloak didn't seem to disturb the other two unduly.

"I can't do Tuesday," said the third witch, pushing her pointy hat back at a rakish angle and scrubbing at her forehead with the back of her wrist. "It's Halloween, and I promised to stop in at the Strauss' party. In fact—aren't the two of you supposed to be there as well?"

Erza frowned, the thespian fervour dying from her eyes. She dearly loved rehearsing and putting on plays, but friendship came first. At least Halloween was a chance to dress up; naturally, she'd already chosen her costumes. As an extraordinarily talented Requip Mage, Halloween was a chance to show off some new designs.

"Oh, that's right," murmured Wendy, neatly replacing her hat into its allotted box. "It's come up faster than usual this year, it seems."

The three young women finally got their costumes stowed away—not without reluctance on Erza's part—and left the backstage area in which they'd been practising. Sounds from the main hall area filtered through the heavy curtains, bringing them even more solidly back from ancient Scotland and the Castle of poor murdered King Duncan. In the end, Erza agreed to Wednesday, and she and Wendy parted from Lucy not far from the guildhall.

Once all her farewells had been said, Lucy began the familiar walk back to her apartment, her coat tucked snugly around her against an unusually chilly October wind. The wind seemed to bite even deeper as she drew closer to the canal, and a sheen of icy moisture along the low wall discouraged the mage from her customary balancing act by the water's edge.

The glitter of ice reminded her of Gray, and for at least the tenth time that day—probably more—she wondered where he'd gone. He'd taken to walking her home from the guildhall, and then coming in for tea or hot chocolate, and she'd thought that they'd reached a fairly satisfactory understanding. The last time she'd seen him—over two days ago now—they'd curled up together on her couch with their drink, and he'd kissed her at the door on his way out. It had been very sweet… and she hadn't seen him since.

The wind picked up, and Lucy was surprised to see mist rising from the canal. That made no sense—the wind should be tearing the rapidly-accumulating fog to shreds.

Unable to help herself—in the sense that it was far too good a chance to miss, and they'd just been practising—Lucy murmured one of her lines as the Second Witch in Shakespeare's Macbeth:

"The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about…"

She was very startled, but somehow not wholly surprised, when a cowled figure stepped out from the mist—which is to say, out of the canal—just ahead of her. She took a few steps closer and then stopped, one hand hovering over her keys.

The cowled figure laughed harshly and then recited:

"All hail, Heartfilia! Hail to Thee, Celestial Lady! All hail, Heartfilia, hail to thee, Golden Lady! All hail, Heartfilia, thou shalt be queen hereafter!"

Lucy took a cautious step backward at that, but responded: " Speak, if you can: what are you?" Then she laughed, because the whole thing was so obviously staged. "Although that's backward and besides, you spoke my lines! I'm Second Witch, not Mac—I mean, not the Thane of Glamis." Erza had given Lucy a hard time just the other day for saying the name of 'the Scottish Play' too freely. Lucy and Gray had laughed about it later—Erza always took things so seriously, including theater superstitions.

"Good lady, why do you start, and seem to fear, things that sound so fair?"

"Um… now you're Banquo? Although I suppose that's better than being the Ghost of Banquo." The person—Lucy still couldn't place the rough, gravelly voice, although she assumed it was one of her friends playing Halloween tricks on her—seemed to ignore this entirely. There was a short pause, during which Lucy shifted uneasily and the mist grew even thicker.

"All the world's a stage," the figure told her earnestly. "And all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts. At first the infant… And then the lover, sighing like a furnace, with a woeful ballad made to his mistress' eyebrow."

Lucy was thoroughly bewildered. "That's… As You Like It, isn't it? I mean, it's a completely different play."

"At first the infant, … and then the schoolboy, …and then the lover…" There was frustration now in the raspy voice. Another pause and then, somewhat triumphantly: "The Lord of Ice greets you, Lady. And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance. Even on the instant."

"Nope, no idea. You've lost me." The mist had become so thick that Lucy could no longer make out the canal. She had almost been home, but only the barest outline of her building could now be seen. Whereas before there had been the gentle sound of the water and the overpowering bluster of the wind, now it was deathly quiet, with the exception of her Shakespeare-addicted visitor. It was eerie, and she was beginning to feel as though the whole thing was more than a convoluted prank. Probably.

"Wait a minute—did you say Lord of Ice?"

The cowled figure had already gone on: "It is the cause, it is the cause, my lady. Let me not name it to you!" The speech had become impassioned—although the person now sounded as though they were fighting for breath—and Lucy frowned in concentration. She was starting to get a very strange idea about all this. As she racked her brain for more Shakespeare, she heard: "Put out the light, and then put out the light. If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore." The words were spoken in a whisper; the voice sounded sad.

"Of course—Othello! One of my favourites—Iago was just so much more intelligent than most villains! Sorry, sorry, okay, just wait a minute. Did you refer to the 'Lord of Ice'?"

There was no answer, only a horrible choking, gasping sound, and Lucy suddenly shivered from more than cold. Steady, she told herself, you can do this.

"Who's there? The Lord of Ice?" She hoped she was remembering the line correctly—although of course poor, innocent Desdemona had been asking about her husband Othello, not a missing ice mage.

The reaction from the—whatever it was—came immediately.

"Ay, Golden Lady. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly!"

Aaaand we're back to Macbeth again. Lucy felt sweat prickling her forehead in an unpleasant contrast to the damp, chilling mist. Think!

"The Lord of Ice requires me haste-post-haste?" Hopefully a slightly summarized version of a line would be acceptable.

"Even on the instant." It was pleading with her now, she thought. The next words frightened her, although she wasn't surprised—after all, why miss out on the Bard's most famous monologue? Besides, the setting suited Hamlet just as well as… The Scottish Play. Heavily robed arms reached out toward her, the dark folds of velvet slipping back from pale, pale hands. "To be, or not to be? That is the question… To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream—ay there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause."

Lucy stared at the hands, transfixed. They were Gray's hands, but white as snow and strangely clammy-looking. He can't be— She wouldn't even admit the word into her mind. When she couldn't find fresh words, the person spoke again:

"I must weep, but they are cruel tears. This sorrow's heavenly, it strikes where it doth love."

Gray's voice, thought Lucy numbly. Now that she was listening for it, it was Gray's voice as if he'd gone back to his old smoking habit, but distorted with horror and despair. And he seemed to be telling her that he didn't want to, but he was going to… kill her? But, but—come on, Lucy, think it through!—he'd also been trying to give her a message, maybe some way to stop things? Except that she was more and more convinced that he could only hear her when she quoted Shakespeare. This was like the worst English exam of all time.

There was no sound at all now, except for her own laboured breathing—and his. Lucy could see nothing but thick white fog all about her. She felt panic bubbling up inside her but forced it down. They'd been in worse spots. Right? She took a deep breath and abruptly closed the distance between herself and the weird, cowled figure, thrusting out her hands and forcing the deep hood down off the being's—the person's—head. She had intended to do more, but recoiled in shock at what she saw.

It was Gray, but a slimy rope festooned with rotting strands vegetable matter was slowly tightening about his neck; it was already so tight that it seemed as though he should already be dead. His face was a strange mottled combination of livid bruising and ghostly white; his tongue protruded slightly, and his dark, dark eyes appeared to be starting from their sockets. Horrified, Lucy found herself unable to move, although tears started in her own eyes.

"Was the hope drunk wherein you dress'd yourself?" Gray whispered, fighting to breathe. "Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale at what it did so freely?"

He was speaking Lady Macbeth's lines, Lucy realized—the woman's harsh words to her husband intended to shame him back into resolution and courage. If you ignored the fact that she was inciting him to murder, Lady Macbeth was actually a very supportive wife—in a manipulative, scary kind of way. And what came next? Lucy cleared her throat, and gritted her teeth.

"Prithee, peace!" she ordered, holding Gray's anguished gaze. "I dare do all that may become a… woman; who dares do more is none." Gently, she raised her hands to the contorted face. He was very cold, much colder than usual. She chose her words quickly, ignoring the rope, putting together key lines from both of the doomed Macbeths: "Screw your courage to the sticking point, and we'll not fail. I am settled, and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat."

"Lu-cy…"

Blinking back tears, Lucy switched back to Hamlet: "What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, together with that fair and warlike form, in which the majesty of… noble Fairy Tail did sometimes march? By heaven, I charge thee, speak."

Gray responded quickly, and Lucy thought she saw the rope loosen a fraction: "It is offended. See, it stalks away."

"Stay! Speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!" No Horatio, shocked by the sight of his dead king's ghost, had ever spoken his lines with more determination. Gray drew a shuddering breath as the coils retreated further.

Just as before, he cried out: "It is the cause, it is the cause, my lady. Let me not name it to you!"

"As you like it." Okay, so that was actually a title, not a line—hopefully it would do.

Lucy thought quickly. It was now clear to her that against all reason, she and Gray had indeed brought a curse down on themselves by casually using the name of The Scottish Play in advance of its performance in late November. Not to mention the way they'd mocked all the superstition around it. It's ironic, really: neither of us would normally have been like that, but we were anxious and embarrassed and it was a handy way to keep things light. Well, if it somehow turned out later that their guildmates were behind this, then she and Gray could plan a suitable revenge at that time. Right now Lucy was going to take it all perfectly seriously. With great care, she spoke the lines that completed the quote that had begun this strange encounter:

"Thrice to thine and thrice to mine

And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace! the charm's wound up."

There was a moment of absolute stillness, and then Gray's arms wrapped around her and the world went wild. She could hear him shouting into the tempest, but she couldn't make out the words. She felt safe, however; Gray appeared to know his Shakespeare rather thoroughly now.

With a final crackle of lightning and a sudden, drenching downpour like a bucket of ice water had been flung over their heads, the storm faded and then dissipated, taking the strange mist along with it. They were huddled together in the middle of the road, Lucy held protectively against Gray's bare chest. His skin felt much warmer than it had earlier, she thought muzzily. Despite the urgent need to get somewhere warm and dry, Lucy tilted her head back and immediately received an almost brutal kiss on the lips from Gray. He was trembling, she realized; then again, she hadn't noticed that she was crying, or that Gray's throat was savagely bruised and much of his face remained mottled.

They somehow made it up the stairs and into Lucy's apartment with their arms still wound about each other. As soon as the door was closed and the warmth hit them, they stopped moving and just stood together, their bodies pressed as tightly against each other as they could manage. Lucy could hear Gray's heart hammering in his chest.

"It was the damn play," Gray said at last. His voice still sounded very rough. "Although… it would've gone worse if you hadn't come along like you did…"

"Are you sure—"

Gray didn't let her finish. They were both still dripping wet, and even Gray felt cold, but he wanted to get it over with.

"Let me tell you what I can now… and then I don't want to talk about it all for a while. Okay? Sorry to keep you standing like this, but I"—he buried his face against her hair for a moment—"I just need to not move for a few more minutes."

"Sure." Lucy was glad that at least he wasn't speaking in early seventeenth century idioms anymore. Besides, her skin was still clammy and her clothes were wet, but as the shock receded a little she found that standing like this, with her face against Gray's chest, was warming in other ways.

"When I left that night—you know—after I finally got up the nerve to kiss you goodnight, I was in a pretty good mood." His tone was wry, but he sounded a little more like himself. "That lasted until I stepped out onto the street. Hadn't gone more than a few feet when this weird fog rolled in and then, I don't know exactly…" He swallowed painfully. "I did try to fight it—or them—but there wasn't exactly anything to fight. Just jabbering voices and a deep feeling of anger and just… I don't know, something really old. Anyway, I struggled to stay conscious, but must've lost at some point. Next thing I knew, there was this slimy thing around my neck and the jabbering all made sense to me—well, I knew what most of the individual words were. After that, it all got kind of hazy."

Privately, Lucy doubted it had gotten hazy enough for him. She could hear the edge of fear and panic—and pain—in his voice. But he didn't want to talk about it right now, and she could respect his need to pull himself together.

"Anyway, not sure how long I was—well, wherever I was. Then I heard your voice, reciting Shakespeare right around the spot I'd gotten kidnapped—or whatever—and I got really afraid and really hopeful at the same time. See… they actually wanted you more than me. But apparently I was more trouble to hold onto than they expected—which helped my self-esteem, in case you were wondering—so they didn't go after you. And they needed to, um, finish whatever they were doing before All Souls' Eve—Halloween, I guess. But you came along, and you said the right words in the right place so that I could reach out to you and… here we are." Lucy heard a long sigh and a hitching cough. "You're so smart. And brave. They were going to make me kill you, and… ugh. My throat really hurts you know."

"How about I get us both something hot to drink?"

"Um.. yeah… but I don't have anything dry to wear and—your furniture and all."

"Can you live with a towel for now?" Lucy blushed faintly, but smiled. "It won't take long to dry at least your boxers and you practically live in them anyway. Unless… you don't want to go home yet, do you?"

Gray blinked at her and then shook his head. There was a touch of red in his own cheeks, but he didn't say anything.

Eventually, Lucy changed out of her wet things and into flannel pyjamas; it was an indescribable comfort to be dry. As promised, she fetched Gray a towel and even found a t-shirt he'd left at her place at some point in the past—she tried not to be disappointed by that. More or less wordlessly, they chose to forgo the hot drinks and curled up on the wide couch together, deciding that touches and kisses were what they both wanted most of all.

[Part II] - Recovery

It was very late, or more likely very early, when Lucy woke up to discover that Gray had tucked her into bed at whatever point she'd finally fallen asleep. She felt a brief moment of panic, and then realized that the extra weight around her waist was Gray's arm; she was curled up against him, and could only be glad—mostly—that he'd taken the time to at least put on his boxers. The t-shirt, on the other hand, appeared to be missing.

Lucy's eyes turned to her window, through which she could see the night sky, including the nearly-round white-yellow disc of the setting moon. It would be a full moon for Halloween tomorrow. She instinctively started to tell herself that full moons were no different from any other moon, but then shivered: it would be a long time before she messed with long-standing superstitions again.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask." Gray's voice was blurred by sleep and still marred by the bruising.

"I'm glad you're here."

The hand at her waist came up to stroke her hair, strong fingers first caressing and then gently running through her tumbled locks, taking care not to pull. His touch was cool, but no longer cold or clammy as it had been before. Lips roughened by his recent ordeal still felt soft as he kissed the back of her neck.

"I'm going back to sleep," Lucy said, trying to sound severe and failing utterly.

"That's fine." Gray carefully turned her so that he could kiss her. As her eyes closed, he kissed her more deeply, and then with increasing passion. When the kiss broke, his body was partly over hers, the weight surprisingly comfortable, as well as arousing. "Just one more kiss?"

"I think just one might not be enough, but we can find out."

"I love you, Lucy. I don't want to lose you."

"Hey—you're the one who disappeared for two days and almost didn't make it back from… wherever that was."

Gray stared down at her. "I'll try not to do that again. I hope you don't mind if I don't quote Shakespeare to you for a while though."

"Deal." Lucy cleared her throat. "Um. I love you, too."

She could make out a faint smile in the dim light. "I'm really happy to hear that," Gray told her. "I'd hate to strangle to death on incomprehensible old poetry for nothing."

[END]

A/Note: All comments and reviews are much appreciated! Thank you for reading.

@nalufever @shell-senji  @eliz1369  @gsut  @hakusaitosan  @sassyhazelowl

@kazama-hime  @sabinasanfanfic  @hidetheremote  @moon-faced-pear-shaped  @gheleonsdemise  @hakuouki-or-hakuoki @very-x-vice

[kibahinatas]

DRV3 Liveblog [BLIND]: Ch. 2 Daily Life

A THIN LINE DIVIDES HEAVEN AND HELL...

Okay, I’ve played chapter two up until the discovery of the body, just like last time.

Remember, if you want to skip the summary just look for Thoughts under Story.

STORY

The chapter opened on a shot of two rows of those Japanese style “death portraits.” (I’m sorry I don’t know the proper name.) But the only one with a photo in it contained a portrait of Kaede. Just, Kaede too, not Amami who is also dead...Anyway, there were some people talking off screen about how they wished “they” had lived. And stuff like that. Then the scene ends.

Next, there’s a scene of Gonta outside and he thinks he might have spotted a tiny bug in the grass. But when he goes to look at it, he finds a flat, square stone on the ground with the words “horse a” written there. He later discusses this briefly with the others in the dining hall, and then it’s never brought up again. Hm.

Finally, we wake up the day after Kaede’s trial as Shuichi. His room is almost identical to hers, except for the shelf of my Monokuma collection next to his bed. Kaito rings the doorbell and comes to fetch us for breakfast. Shuichi pauses before he leaves, but then says he doesn’t need that anymore.

When we arrive in the dining hall, everyone seems surprised by my appearance. Surprise, surprise (except not) Shuichi is no longer wearing his hat, and was hiding a cute ahoge under there! After a quick discussion about the mysterious “horse a,” Monokuma and the four Monokubs show up with gifts for us - some random trash.

Turns out the random trash actually helps us to uncover new areas that were hidden behind false walls (including the 3rd floor), overgrown ivy, and to unlock that weird castle wall place. We find several new research labs for Himiko, Kirumi, Gonta, Ryoma, and Maki (although she won’t let us inside.) There’s also an indoor pool, and inside the “castle walls” are a large casino and a hotel that seems to have no function yet - the Kumasutra..lol.

In one of the hallways we come across something that stands out above all the rest, though. A massive treasure chest containing a single item that appears to be a flashlight of sorts. We all gather to inspect it in the gym, and Monokuma appears to inform us that it is a special light which will restore some of our memories! After some debate, we decide to try it out. Suddenly, Shuichi, and everyone else, remembers the Ultimate Hunt! They remember being hunted because of their ultimate talents, and eventually deciding to use a device which would repress their memories of being ultimates, causing them to believe they were just normal high school students, much like when we began the game. We got to see a shot of Shuichi hooked up to this device, and it turns out it is the same one we had gotten a glimpse of Kaede in during the prologue.

Later, during the night, the Monokubs sneak into our room to drop something off, but since they can’t see in the dark, they worry they might get things mixed up. The next morning, we find a colorful Kubs Pad on our coffee table, similar to the Monopad. But this one contains a single video. Monokuma announces he’s bringing back “an old favorite:” personal motive videos of loved ones! However, the Monokubs did indeed mix things up as Shuichi receives Kaito’s video of his grandparents instead of his own.

Shuichi rushes around trying to find Kaito, and ends up meeting everyone in the dining hall. They soon decide it would be best to not exchange videos, so no one will have a motive to kill. Although, not everyone feels this way.

Kokichi strongly believes we should show each other our motives. He ends up roping the gullible Gonta into a scheme to achieve this, but it doesn’t quite go as planned. (Also at some point in between all this we do push-ups with Kaito one night, lol.) Kokichi gets Gonta all fired up to retrieve everyone who hates bugs, so they can come meet all the bugs in Gonta’s lab. Once we are all there (Shuichi, Tenko, Himiko, Angie, Kiyo, and Kibo, I believe), Kokichi leaves us with Gonta while he goes to fetch our Kubs Pads. Gonta releases an ungodly amount of bugs, while everyone is flipping their shit. Oblivious to how we’re all feeling Gonta seems pleased with how the Insect Meet and Greet is going.

When Kokichi finally returns with the Kubs Pads, before he can force us to start binge watching, we decide to let Gonta know he’s being used for Kokichi’s scheme. Kibo reveals that he has an audio tape recording function, which he rewinds to play Kokichi’s words for Gonta. Upset upon hearing this, Gonta makes Kokichi stay with him and the bugs while the rest of us leave, hearing Kokichi screaming in the distance, lol.

Meanwhile, Angie, and her new religious convert Himiko (much to the dismay of Tenko), have been planning a magic show. It’s planned to go on the morning after the whole Insect Meet and Greet fiasco. We gather in the gym, to see an elaborate setup for the show, although not everyone is present. Kokichi, Ryoma, Maki, and Kaito are nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, the show must go on! Angie and Himiko explain how the trick will work. Himiko will jump into a tank of water, and escape in one minute. Once the time is up, a suspended tank of piranhas will be dumped into the tank below. Seems simple enough, especially since it will all take place behind a curtain, and Himiko is not restrained in anyway.

The trick begins, and as seconds tick by on the timer, Himiko does not emerge. We all begin to worry, while Angie assures us all is well. But Gonta can’t wait any longer and leaps up on to the tank. He peers down into the water, with a surprised look on his face, and then time is up. The curtain is pulled back just before the piranha tanks is released, and floating inside the lower tank is...Ryoma! Handcuffed and unconscious or even dead. But the mystery of whether or not he is dead doesn’t last long, as the piranhas are dropped in, consuming his entire body down to the bones.

THOUGHTS: ‘Noooo!’ Was my reaction to seeing Ryoma’s body in the tank. I actually liked him a lot, so seeing him die so early was a disappointment.

Anyway, setting aside the “death portraits” for now, what is up with that “horse a” thing? Is it relevant? I feel like it’s got to be later, but it got brushed off so quickly. And what does it mean? I feel like there’s a secret meaning. Perhaps related to those random letters on the castley gate? Hm.

When Shuichi alluded to leaving his hat behind, I remember saying to my boyfriend how I bet it’s his hat and that he’s got a secret protagonist ahoge he’s been hiding this whole time! To my amusement, but not my surprise, I was right lol. What’s a Dangan Ronpa protagonist without an ahoge after all? Even our “secret protagonist” Shuichi, and “false protagonist” Kibo (in reference to the early promos) have one!

The way they did the new areas was interesting. How they were all spread out across the campus and not just one big central area. I enjoyed that. I also liked that we are getting to see most everyone’s research labs, slowly. (Thinking back I never tried going inside Miu’s though, I’ll have to do that later.) Except for Maki, who won’t let us inside for some strange reason...I almost wonder if she’s hiding something. No, I don’t wonder, I pretty much know she has to be hiding something. Like I mentioned back in my prologue post, I have a suspicion she may be lying about her talent. If her research lab is for a completely different talent she doesn’t want us knowing about, it would make sense she wouldn’t let anyone inside!

It was interesting to see a repeat motive, but of course in typical DR fashion, Monokuma made sure to point out that he was doing so, lol. However having everyone (or most everyone, we don’t know who received which video yet) receive someone else’s video was an interesting twist!

There seemed to be a lot of focus on Kaito this chapter too. Having his motive video, him inviting Shuichi to work out that one night, etc. The one line about Shuichi not realizing at that point how “horrific it is to trust someone” was very interesting. It would seem that this is in reference to Kaito, but we can’t be certain yet. My boyfriend suspects that all the Kaito business may be a red herring, but I’m not ruling him out as suspicious just yet.

But my favorite part of the chapter had to be the Insect Meet and Greet. Oh man, what a great scene. It was really funny, but I think will still be important to this next case in some ways. Gonta is a gift.

As for the murder, I can’t say a lot at this point! For whatever reason my gut reaction was again to suspect Tenko. I guess she’s my Souda of this game, although I actually liked him and hated suspecting him every time - Tenko I’m not super fond of lol. Also Kirumi, since we spent a lot of time on how much the other students are relying on her I feel like she might break soon. Also it’s just a hunch. And then Angie, who was involved in the magic show and also bonded with Himiko. If I’ve learned anything from Dangan Ronpa, it’s don’t get too close to anyone, it will just assure that only one of you will make it out alive lol. Not to mention the chapter title is suspicious given her religious enthusiasm...

But no idea how the killer did it and/or got Ryoma’s body in the tank! With little to go on I’m super excited to start investigating next time. I did make a joke though, how it’s like the show Bones - because all we have is his skeleton. And we have an anthropologist with us (Kiyo/Bones), someone who solves mysteries/crimes (Shuichi/Booth), a bug and nature guy (Gonta/Hodgins), and an artist (Angie/Angela) haha.

GAMEPLAY

Aside from free time, there’s really only one other thing I want to talk about here. Everything else is pretty much the same as before.

A new element that’s been added this chapter is the casino! We can exchange our monocoind for special casino coins and play games to win more special coins, which we can then use to exchange for prizes. Sounds confusing but it’s actually quite simple. I was able to get a decent of amount of coins for a low amount, and used those to play the slot machine and salmon fishing, the only two available games as of now.

I won a few hundred coins on the slot machine, but only made a couple salmon fishing. The salmon fishing works in a similar way to the hangman’s gambit of this game, with the things you need to select being hidden in shadow and then illuminated briefly. I think if I remember where the fish are without waiting for the light, I can win more coins. So I’ll have to try that again later.

Then for Free Time, I got 5 events, and I think it would have been 6 if I didn’t do an optional scene, which I’ll get to at the end. I spent Free Time with Himiko, Kirumi x2, Kibo, and Kokichi. Something I found interesting though, was that all the characters I talked to as Kaede didn’t carry over. Meaning, I no longer had a hope fragment for them or the information I learned there. As Amami and Ryoma are no longer with us, this was kind of a bummer since I won’t get to look back on that now. At least I have the memory I guess, lol.

Now it’s been about a week between playing and writing this section of my post, so I can’t quite remember what all I talked about with them. I do remember that Kirumi still wasn’t really saying much about herself, even in two FTEs. She mostly talked about places she’d worked and whatnot. I spent time with her twice because I really wanted to get to know who she was as a person, and not just as a maid. Hopefully she’s not the culprit this time, so I can still get a chance to do so lol. I also vaguely remember talking to Kokichi about his organization, and how he has powerful connections or something like that. But that’s about it.

But, on to the bonus scene. So before breakfast, on the day before the magic show, I happened to go talk to Miu in the courtyard, and she invited me to join her in the casino later that day. Of course, I chose yes. So when free time rolled around, I automatically travelled to the casino, where I was joined by Miu, Ryoma, Kaito, and Kokichi. We then got a light, fun scene where we all played casino games, and watched as Kaito continually lost to Ryoma, lol. I enjoyed it a lot.

One last thing I wanted to note is that I haven’t seen any more hidden Monokumas around! Just how hidden are these things? The two I found last chapter were impossible to miss. So I wonder where they’re at. I feel like I haven’t overlooked anything so I don’t know!

CHARACTERS

Like I said before it’s been a while since I played, so I’m having trouble remembering what all I wanted to say about the characters. I have a note that I wanted to talk about Kokichi, Kaito, Ryoma, Kirumi, Maki, and Kibo, but I can't remember what I had to say about them. I know I wanted to mention Ryoma sadly looking out over the tennis court in his lab, and Maki being a mysterious shit for no reason. (What are you hiding!) And maybe comment some more on Kaito and his grandparents and just him in general. But oh well, I’m sorry guys! I’ll try to be better about this with chapter 3 instead of putting it off so long, lol.

PREDICTIONS

Okay, so a final prediction to close with.

Another one of my reaching predictions, but the scene at the very beginning of the chapter got me thinking. I wonder if this is going to be like the sequel to my fanstory that I had planned, in which the twist is that all the characters are actually “dead” and the people who have been participating in the killing game are clones of those people who have been implanted with their memories.

Now, I actually hope this is not the case as I really want to use this idea for said fanstory, lol, but it would be interesting nonetheless. I don’t have any other evidence supporting this right now though, so I’ll have to see how things progress before saying more!