#will i stop once i do get my hands on chain of thorns?

[vwritesaus]

so i emerge from twt and radio silence to accounce that this account will be rising from the ashes of dormancy very soon

but i'm warning u all now, i am NOT responsible for my actions or for all the shadowhunter chronicles fics that will be coming your way

especially with all the aus under the sun that i can think of (including a modern/reincarnation au & a soulmate au already in the works)

especially with the characters from TLH

especially with thomastair

thank you for your attention

[azullumi]

“under the burning hill” ; aventurine

premise — you say you know him, what will he choose?

tags — angst, with comfort if you squint, mentions of death, a lot of metaphors, spoilers to his backstory, i seriously don’t know how to tag this one, not proofread, 0.9k words; ficlet

tagging — @toorurs

note — i once cried to those tiktok slideshows that are like “if you really know your mother/self/father/sister/brother, what will they choose?” and then this fic happened. this is NOT my celebration fic for getting him, i have different one in my drafts

you say you know aventurine, what is he choosing?

a chance to be with his family again

he dreamt of flowers and gardens, of empty fields and large floating clouds, of tears and warmth, and he knelt into the dream where he felt the warmth of his sister’s hug and the soothing melody of his mother’s song. he buries his corpse who knew his father’s voice and how he would hold his child. in his dreams, he is good and he is loved.

he had nightmares of blood and fire, of wounds and tainted, dirty clothes, of screams and cries, and he’ll run away from the blades that will chase him, his body will become a corpse along with many others as he hides in the bloody waters. he has known death even before he saw his reflection.

and when he awakes from this, he’ll find himself in an empty bedroom despite the corners and the walls adorned with furniture, decoration, and dust. he’ll find himself alone—waking up yet he’s still in a nightmare. his family isn’t there.

for his shackles to never exist

the chain suffocates him—there’s the harsh smell of rusting metal and the cold tug of the chain when he moves his hand. his clothes are tattered, the collar and the hems burned off, and he stands before the eyes that scrutinizes and looks down on his existence. their gaze leaves letters that burn on his skin and it forms into a scar that will never heal, a reminder of what he is meant to be and will always be.

but he walks in the streets in flamboyance, the chain never seen on his wrist and neck as if it never once touched him. he treads the line of freedom and restriction recklessly and like a bird who has never known how to spread its wings, he could never reach far into the sky.

the form of his shackles have changed; it doesn’t mean he also has.

to stop the tremble of his hands

he fiddles with his fingers, adjusts the way his watch rests on his wrist—he keeps his hand busy and hidden. he wears a smile on his lips and utters such words filled with confidence as he places his bet, as he gambles his life, yet he desperately tries to conceal the way his hands tremble as he clutches on to his chips.

he wagers his life as if his existence was only a mere chip on the table, but it’s the only control he’ll ever have over himself.

an apology

he has dealt with scornful gazes and harsh remarks, has dwelled on the hidden meaning behind people’s words. he’s all too familiar with the cruel and unkind thread that weaves into their tongue as they speak—some may sing praises to him yet their eyes would harbor only hatred and disgust.

he wishes someone would ask for his forgiveness, but why would he even deserve one? what did he even do to deserve one? what did he do? does his existence outweigh the heaviness of a single syllable the word carries? was he worthy of one? does he even have any worth?

he can only let their gaze taint his skin, rearrange the letters of the words they utter into the one he will never hear.

(he has never forgiven himself either.)

to finally let go

how bruised are his knees and how long will he repent for the sins he has never committed?

he holds on to his burden as if it was a part of him, as if he’ll be nothing but an empty vessel if he loses his hold on it. he knows it's holding him down, knows it's making his hands bleed but it’s everything and the only thing he has known for—the thorns has been engraved into his palm and became part of his skin. he’ll stuff his mouth full of rotten food and leave his stomach empty, and he’ll believe this is what he’s made for.

perhaps when he'll finally find a place to put everything down, he’ll learn how it feels to live for himself and not for the things he carries.

you say you know kakavasha, what is he choosing?

to never have to say goodbye

farewell is a form of poetry and he is a poem.

in most days, he’ll hear his sister’s voice in the empty corridors of his home, he’ll hear the echoes and follow him into places she could never reach (his wishes will never be enough to save her). he’s haunted by the unspoken farewells and the goodbyes he is forced to make, watching their backs as they leave or his own.

(he wishes he never knew the word.)

(his child self) having a conversation with future him

children are bound with endless dreams and light to see into the dark as they walk into their future—he was (once) one of them. he’ll stay up at night wondering what’s ahead of him, grasping on to what little left of his hope that things will become better, and when he sleeps, he’ll dream of talking to his future self.

“are you happy?”

if he’ll have a conversation with his future self, he’ll tell him everything and anything, make him recall the memories lost when growing up, trace the stars with him as he asks him the questions he’s curious to know the answer to (his future self will know him inside out but he, the child he once was, will never know him). and maybe he’ll put their palms together once he notices his agitation—and he’ll see the differences of their hands and notice the dying light in their eyes—as they ask for their god’s blessings.

he’ll tell him: everything will be okay, even when he’ll only be met with silence.

(get onstage 

fear not

never look back.)

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[weyrwolfen]

Caveat Emptor: Chapter 3 - Suppressio Veri

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Commanders Fox, Thorn, Thire, and Stone, Quinlan Vos, Coruscant Guard

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm and suicidal thoughts, injuries, loss of autonomy

Previous chapters can be found here on Tumblr or here on Ao3

Fingers bit into CC-1010’s face, pulling him forward painfully to look directly into cruel, yellow eyes.

“Nala Se’s reports never mentioned anything about the implant degrading over time,” said a man’s voice, cold and dangerous, terrifyingly familiar.

The grip on CC-1010’s face tightened, fingers squeezing skin and muscle painfully against underlying bone. He did not move, did not protest, even though inside some part of him was screaming to fight, to run. To do anything instead of just stand there.

“What a pity,” the voice said, and the hand abruptly released CC-1010, then returned in a mocking parody of a fond pat on his cheek. “You’ve been my favorite tool, but don’t worry. When you’re all used up, I have three more just like you.”

“One of those had better be for me,” Fox said when he walked out of the shared commanders’ quarters, bucket tucked neatly under one arm, to find Thire waiting in ambush in the hallway with two thermal canteens in hand.

Thire snorted loudly enough for his external mics to engage, but he also, demonstrating commendable survival instincts, immediately held out one of the canteens and said, “They both are, I’ve already been awake for six hours.”

Perhaps there’d been a reason why Fox had promoted Thire after all. Even if he was often a complete pain in the shebs.

The barrack’s caf had a burnt, metallic aftertaste, but it was strong enough to wake the dead, which was exactly what Fox needed at that moment. He hadn’t slept particularly well, not that he ever did these days, and his oddly vivid nightmares had left him feeling particularly unsettled and distracted. Once he was awake and alert enough to get picky about his morning stimulants, he could always steal some better osik from one of the Senate breakrooms.

Once they reached the lifts, Fox was feeling mostly human enough to ask, “Sitrep?”

“The CSF is in a snit,” Thire said, pressing the button to call one of the lifts. “Apparently the Jedi confiscated several cultural artifacts from the Chancellor’s private rooms under SB 1468-28.”

The kriff? SB 1468-28 had to do with regulating imports and exports in Republic space. It had thousands of sections and subsections, covering everything from negotiating tariff rates to pages and pages of non-sentient species deemed too endangered to be legally traded. Not that Fox imagined that the Jedi would be risking setting off major political waves by publicly seizing something like a smuggled kanthra skin rug from the Chancellor of the Republic.

Former Chancellor of the Republic?

Kriff, it was going to be another karking long-shebs day with an unending chain of more of the same on the horizon. The caffeine couldn’t hit Fox’s system fast enough.

The lift finally arrived, and when Fox and Thire stepped inside, Thire hit the button for the hanger floor instead of the one which would have taken them to their offices. Straight back into the belly of the beast then.

“The CSF has determined that at some point after you left the Chancellor’s office, the door to his emergency turbolift was opened twice,” Thire said once the lift rattled to life.

Well, that explained why nobody had tried to arrest Fox yet. “Any leads on who?”

“No,” Thire answered, a little too quickly. Fox kept his suspicions to himself, but something cold coiled in the pit of his stomach. “It’s not even clear which side the door was accessed both times. Someone wiped the system with one of the Chancellor’s personal codes.”

Okay. That was slightly more unexpected. Fox had his own security access codes. He didn’t know the Chancellor’s, so CC-1010 shouldn’t either. Right?

Stop. Suspicions weren’t facts. He could suspect all he wanted; he didn’t know anything.

“The CSF is working the angle that the Chancellor himself opened the door, even though nobody has a working theory as to why,” Thire continued. “The Guard has been tasked with excluding other points of ingress from consideration.”

Of course. Of course, the CSF would try to ice the Guard out of the real investigation. Shabuire.

Except Thire knew the risks of this investigation getting out of the Guard’s hands as well as Fox did, but he wasn’t acting particularly concerned about being dismissed from the primary crime scene. And that had some significant implications.

Stop it. Stop speculating. Stop working the karking case.

Fox was compromised. His officers would tell him whatever was safe for him to know. He had to trust them on this, because there weren’t any guarantees that CC-1010 wouldn’t report everything that was done and said here back to kriff even knew who.

So Fox kept his questions behind his teeth and tried, with very limited success, to put them out of his mind as well.

The lift doors opened out onto the Guard’s hanger bay. Fox managed to not wince, but only just. There was something about the lighting in the space that always exacerbated his headaches. The pain tabs he’d downed before kitting up for the day weren’t quite doing their jobs, but Scav was firmly against upping the dose or changing the type of medication until it became absolutely unavoidable. Something about not wanting the Marshall Commander of the Guard to be wandering around the Senate, armed to the teeth while also tripping balls.

As if all of them didn’t already occasionally do their rounds, so strung out on stims that every light had rainbow-edged trails in their vision. It came with the long hours and the strill osik requests Senators often kicked their way, on top of their usual duties.

Thire passed by the larger gunships and troop transports, instead aiming for the smaller, two-man speeders. Picking the nearest one, he took the driver’s seat and fired up its engines, leaving Fox as the ride along. Probably wise.

“Where are we headed?” Fox finally asked, when the awkward silence in the speeder became unbearable. That at least seemed like a safe question to ask, seeing as he was about to find out anyway.

Thire’s bucket was unreadable, visor forward as he weaved through traffic, but he tapped his index finger against the steering yoke in obvious thought before saying, “We’re meeting up with Hound’s team. He thinks they’ve found something in the Chancellor’s emergency evacuation hanger.”

Okay.

Fox really wanted to ask for further information.

He did not.

He did, however, finish his first canteen of caf and start in on his second while Thire went through the extra security protocols of requesting and receiving permission to pass through the energy-shields that kept the general public well away from the Senate Dome’s extensive substructure. What little sense of humor the Senate Guards had previously exhibited had seemingly shriveled up and died in the midst of the current crisis. Thire had to repeat both of their designation numbers three times and submit their clearance codes twice before being granted entry.

The access portals were wide, dimly lit, and eerily empty. There should have been at least a few maintenance droids and work crews down here, monitoring the building’s infrastructure and performing minor repairs. The only sentients Fox saw as Thire guided their speeder through the twisting series of tunnels were his own men, patrolling the area on speeder bikes in teams of three. The Senate Guard must have shut everyone else out, including the small army of maintenance and support staff that kept the lights on and the water running for the entire Dome, because Fox sure as kriff hadn’t made that call.

That was going to cause problems down the line, from compromised utilities to Senators who could and would take any inconvenience as a personal slight.

Thire rounded a final corner and slowed to a hovering stop where a full squad of Coruscant Guards had set up a watch along one stretch of walkway lining the massive panels that made up the tunnels’ heavily-armored walls. A security request popped up on the speeder’s main terminal, and Thire entered his own codes in response.

The Guardsmen shifted to either side of one of the heavy wall panels, making room for one huge plate to rotate up towards the ceiling on artfully concealed magnetic hinges, revealing a set of heavy blast doors.

Once the doors lensed open, one of the troopers, Facet from the trooper’s unusually ornate rerebraces, waved them forward.

Thire guided the speeder through a series of similar blast doors, waiting in each of the connected room for the previous set to close and the next to open. They were kill boxes with concealed defenses mounted in the walls around them, but their exact specifications had been above even Fox’s high clearance level. Being at the mercy of an unknown, deadly automated system made the hair down the back of his neck prickle in instinctive unease.

And yet, he still somehow knew that the fourth room would be the last in the series.

Bright lights glinted off ornamental metals and red-paneled walls. The architecture of the hanger broadly matched the public-facing portions of the Chancellor’s office, all curving walls and gently ramping, carpeted walkways. It was large too, excessively so, given it only held a trio of sleek, custom speeders.

Fox screwed the cap back onto his second, half-empty canteen of caf and set it in the speeder’s center console. Then he fished his helmet out of the floorboards and pulled it on while Thire maneuvered the speeder over to a corner of the space where two guard transports were already docked.

The magnetics inside Fox’s helmet hissed as they engaged, and his HUD flickered to life. His light settings were lower than standard, his one sop to the headache which was still lingering behind his eyes. Once his HUD finished scrolling through its own internal system checks, he sent out a ping using his command overrides and received back answering data from the armor of any trooper in the immediate area.

Fox’s system picked up Facet and his men on guard outside the hanger’s concealed entrance and a few other scattered troopers patrolling the tunnels above and below his current position. Most of the signals came from Hound and his team, as expected.

Hound had brought two full squads to perform this investigation. Fox pulled up a three-dimensional rendering of the space and nodded slightly to himself in approval. The room’s exits, including all air-intake and ventilation shafts, were adequately covered, and the remaining troopers were canvassing the space in orderly, meticulous detail. Hound’s systems reported the presence of three massifs as well, but Fox only spotted two of them. Perhaps the other was with the four troopers who were beyond the hanger’s ornate double doors, no doubt checking out the emergency turbolift from this end of the system.

Hound himself was waiting next to his team’s transports, Grizzer alert and watchful at his side.

Thire made for the ARF trooper’s position and settled the speeder down with practiced ease. The doors of the passenger compartment swung upwards like especially ungainly avian wings.

When Fox stepped out of the vehicle, Grizzer barked a rumbling, chuffing sort of sound the massifs were trained to make whenever they spotted a target. Hound shared a brief look with Thire, obvious and weighted even through their visors, and then palmed a treat out of one of the pouches on his belt. He handed it to the massif, whose entire hindquarters wagged excitedly at the reward.

Fox certainly had some thoughts on that, but again, he kept them to himself.

“Sirs,” Hound said, giving Grizzer the hand signal to sit, which she did with an open-mouthed, razor-toothed grin. The ARF then snapped off a sharp salute, which Fox immediately waved away.

“You wanted to show me something?” he asked, trying to get this farce moving along.

“This way,” Hound said without any further preamble.

While one of the speeders berthed in the hanger was emblazoned with the Republic cog and the other ornate signs and trappings of office, the other two were aggressively plain. They both looked expensive, and a particularly knowledgeable observer would notice the armored panels and shield generators artfully worked into their designs. But neither would be immediately pegged as belonging to any specific one of the millions of wealthy sentients who were on planet at any given time. A few troopers were clustered around the speeder with the badges of office emblazoned on its side panels, scanning the interiors and taking holoimages. Hound guided them towards the second speeder, a dark gray model whose doors and trunk were already open.

Fox’s footsteps faltered, a wave of dread and expectation washing over him. Expectation of what, he couldn’t have said. The open trunk turned out to be completely empty.

“This speeder has been washed down with enzymatic cleaners and then an aggressive sanitizing agent very recently,” Hound said, gesturing vaguely towards the entire vehicle. “The navigation record and access logs were wiped with the same code used on the Chancellor’s turbolift.”

“Have you alerted the CSF?” Fox asked, looking down into the empty trunk. He kept expecting to see… something. He wasn’t sure what.

“Not yet, sir,” Hound said, and Fox looked up at the awkward hesitation in the ARF’s voice. “We were waiting for you to sign off on it.”

They should have notified the senior CSF agent assigned to the case immediately upon finding something this suspicious. The explanation for that breach of protocol occurred to Fox abruptly, and it was both unwelcome and nauseating.

His men were covering for him.

If I’m here when the CSF agents arrive, my biomarkers will be recorded for exclusion from any subsequent evidence logging.

Fox took one deep, steadying breath, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm even as his stomach churned.

“Comm them,” he said, and his voice sounded far steadier than he felt.

Hound nodded, glanced at Thire again, and then stepped back, fingers tapping over the controls on his vambrace.

On any other investigation, Fox would have taken a walk around the hanger, checking in with the rest of his troopers and taking their reports. This time, though, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to know what they were finding, or worse, what they’d been working to actively destroy. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t. He suspected, but that was different.

He knew. He’d been here before, many times.

Not trusting himself to look anywhere else, Fox turned his attention back down to the speeder’s empty trunk. The bare, overlarge space was strange, in comparison to all of the other civilian speeders he’d ever seen. Even their own transports had some kind of traction matting in the back, hard to clean, but good for keeping equipment from sliding around in transit.

…Really, it seemed designed for easy cleanup: smooth surfaces and curved edges, with no corners or textures where a drop of blood or a stray hair could hide.

That was why CC-1010 had been ordered to use this speeder, instead of the less customized model. The first time he’d been activated, his orders had been very specific. Which speeder he should use, which tunnels to avoid, where to dispose of the bodies, and how to clean up his tracks, both literal and digital. And then to forget until he was activated once again. The memories resurfaced for his second mission, and his third, and after a while the specifics just became part of his standard operating procedure, only noteworthy if some facet of them needed to be altered.

CC-1010 had always followed his orders to the letter. Even when those orders didn’t make any sense. Even when they stood in direct opposition to the public statements made by his Master. Even when they directly violated Republic laws governing the ethical treatment of enemy combatants and civilian noncombatants.

Even when CC-1010 was entirely certain that what his Master had said was not what he had intended.

Good soldiers followed orders, and CC-1010 was an excellent soldier.

All of his trainers had said so. He’d been the best, especially in his close quarters combat and stealth modules. And hadn’t his Master deserved the best?

He had. He had deserved someone like CC-1010, who would carry out his words to the letter, meticulously destroy any evidence, and then forget the details.

He had deserved CC-1010…

“Fox?”

…His mission was complete though. He had followed his SOP and reported back to his office. He had set the memory aside, until the next time.

Except now he was remembering, and no one had activated him.

He should remember that, shouldn’t he? He always had before…

“Fox?” Thire asked again, sounding concerned.

…That was CC-4477. His concern was noted, but not necessary. CC-1010 had completed his mission. This was just an aberration. All he needed to do now was forget…

“CC-1010?” Thire asked carefully. Except that was wrong too, wasn’t it? They never used their designation numbers amongst themselves. Only when…

…Forget…

“CC-1010, what do you require to complete your mission?” Thire asked, following the prescribed script. Only someone very close to him would have noticed the tension humming under his voice.

Fox heard it. Fox held onto it.

…Forg–

Fox sucked in a gasping lungful of air. Memories trickled through his grasp, falling away like grains of sand, but some of them stuck this time.

A few, and none he ever wanted.

He’d killed people. He was pretty certain he’d killed a lot of people, civilians, and he couldn’t even remember any names, or faces, or why.

Karking Sith-damned hells, his head hurt.

Fox bent double, struggling to remove his helmet. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t…

“Kriff, no,” Thire said, catching him before Fox could fully collapse onto the floor. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered desperately. “Just breathe slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Can you do that with me?”

Fox wasn’t about to risk nodding, but he could follow orders. He was good at that, right?

The strangled noise he made could have been described as a laugh, but it had only the most passing familiarity with anything resembling humor.

“Fox, I’m serious. The CSF shabuire are going to be here any second. I need you to get your osik together and breathe with me.”

Fox shut his eyes and breathed.

“I need to get to Scav,” he finally said, when he was able to straighten back up without feeling like his entire head was going to crack open and leak his brains out all over the hanger bay floor.

His nose wasn’t bleeding. That was surprising.

“You need to stand your shebs right here until the CSF agents sign you out,” Thire said, getting one hand up under Fox’s elbow to take up at least some of his weight. Thire gestured to someone off to the left, Fox didn’t think it was wise to turn his head at that moment to see who.

Hound came into his direct line of sight. “They’re taking the lift down,” he said grimly. “There’s a general coming with them.”

“Who?” Thire asked, before Fox could swallow down the taste of bile enough to do the same.

“They didn’t say.”

“Fox, are you going to be able to do this?” Thire asked, quiet enough to not carry beyond the three of them.

“Not like I have much of a choice,” Fox said, pulling himself out of Thire’s grip. His vision blurred for a moment, but it was worth it to get his helmet back on. The tinted visor and plastoid plate made it so much easier to hide any number of sins.

Thire gave him a dubious look, which Fox did not dignify with a response.

There was a trick to marching that made it possible to walk in a straight line with minimal jostling. Kriffing convenient piece of intel to have, if you were overly tired, or drunk, or strung out on stims, or about to have to report to a kriffing Jedi while your brains felt like they were being rendered down into nutripaste. You just had to look straight ahead, keep your knees a little bent, and roll your weight from your heel, along the outer edge of your foot, to the ball. Easy. They’d done it enough on Kamino, exhausted, beat to osik by one trainer or another, and running on nothing but a heady blend of pride and fear.

Fox made it into formation just in time to see the doors swing open. He didn’t stumble once. He didn’t even puke into his shiny, new filters. Mags would be so pleased.

The CSF agents were dressed out in full protective gear this time, white coveralls with full facemasks and hoods, like they were expecting some kind of hazmat exposure. Fox couldn’t see their faces, but he’d spent essentially his entire life reading the body language of armored sentients. Every single one of them looked tense, and a few were angry.

The General wasn’t wearing a single piece of protective clothing, just a set of dark, sleeveless robes and knee-high boots. No foot coverings, no mask, no gloves, and if his expression and bearing were to be believed, no cares in the galaxy.

Kriff, it was the same Jedi from before, the one who’d brought the clearance flimsiwork to General Windu. Fox had asked Thorn to sic some of their slicers on the man, but all they’d been able to glean from the Temple’s public-facing servers was a name: Quinlan Vos.

Great. Just great. Because dealing with a General and a Jedi wasn’t enough, without adding ‘probable covert ops agent’ into the mix.

Fox breathed and did not allow his knees to buckle.

The General spotted them immediately, and made his way down the tastefully lit, carpeted stairs with a bounce in his step. “Commanders,” he said with a grin that struck Fox at utterly false.

Fox saluted. Given the creak of armor he heard behind him, Thire and Hound had done the same. “General Vos,” he said, and his voice didn’t falter in the slightest.

Vos waved one hand casually, dismissing the salute. “I’m not a general,” he said airily. “Never was assigned a battalion, something about not being able to keep my own life in order, much less the lives of several thousand troopers.” Aching, dizzy, and nauseous, and Fox still picked up on the fact that almost everything the man had just said was a flagrant lie. “You can call me Quinlan.”

Like hells.

“General Vos–” Fox tried again, but was immediately interrupted.

“How about just Vos?” the Jedi said, extending a bare hand in a common natborn greeting.

It would be rude to not take it – Fox had learned that within hours of arriving on Coruscant – but something still made him hesitate.

Kriff his head hurt.

“Master Vos,” Fox compromised, taking the man’s hand and not his wrist, like he might have with one of his brothers.

Something in the Jedi’s expression flickered, dimming the welcoming grin he’d been wearing like a mask.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, grip tightening momentarily around Fox’s gauntlet.

Because of course, a Jedi would sense something wrong with him. Of kriffing course.

Well, he couldn’t exactly say that he was perfectly fine. That would draw even more suspicion. “A training accident,” Fox said blandly, matching the Jedi lie for smoothly delivered lie. “Nothing a rest shift won’t cure.”

Vos’s eyes narrowed speculatively, and he said, “Uh huh,” in a very dubious tone of voice. “Well, I was told you fine gentlemen found something interesting. Care to fill me in?”

Fox gestured smoothly to his left, managing not to jostle himself too much, and said, “My sergeant and his men made the discovery, so please allow me to defer to him, for this briefing.”

“Defer away,” Vos said, dialing back up the charm. “What name would you prefer I call you, trooper?”

“Hound, sir,” the ARF trooper finally replied very stiffly.

“Hound, right.” The Jedi then hunkered down and extended a hand again, this time to Grizzer. “And who’s this sweet girl?”

Karking hells, like that wasn’t the fastest way to get Hound to warm up to him. This Vos kriffer was slick, and Fox was not happy about that kind of expert manipulation being directed towards his men.

“She bites,” Fox said in warning.

“No, she doesn’t,” Hound immediately corrected, sounding offended. “Not unless I ask her to.”

Kriffing Sith-damned hells, Hound. Fox wanted to grab the sergeant by the spaulders and shake him.

Instead, he let Thire steer him away from the conversation.

“Hound has this,” Thire said quietly, over a private comm line.

“He’d better,” Fox grumbled.

He was cleared rapidly, by the CSF agent who had been tasked with collecting prints and biological samples from all of the troopers present in the hanger. All of his data were already on file, from his previous visit to the Chancellor’s office. Thire managed to find an out of the way corner to sit and recover, while the rest of their men were cleared.

He was almost back down to baseline when General Vos managed to find him.

“Sit,” the Jedi said, when Fox started to rise to salute. “You look like shit.”

“I assure you, I am more than capable of performing my duty,” Fox said, every instinct screaming to conceal the extent of his debilitation.

“Sit anyway, this won’t take more than a second,” the Jedi said, dropping down casually on the padded bench next to Fox. “I’m just curious about something.”

“I will endeavor to assist you in any way I can,” Fox lied again, casually enough to sound earnest.

The General arched one eyebrow, but did not comment about whatever suspicions he had. Instead he leaned back and rested his hands on his thighs. They were gloved again, but not with the blue, sterile ones the CSF agents had been handing out. They were black leather, and Fox abruptly remembered the incident in the Chancellor’s office with the mystery item concealed in the desk.

Something about needing bare hands, to make his Force osik work correctly.

Fox went suddenly cold with fear.

“As I said, I haven’t ever been assigned a battalion,” Vos finally said as if nothing were amiss. “So I don’t have much experience working with clones. So, I don’t know if this question might be…,” he paused, obviously considering his next words carefully. “Culturally sensitive,” he finally said.

Fox’s heart was pounding in his chest, but the pain in his head had settled back down to a dull roar. Manageable enough that he could keep his full wits about him at least. “It is our duty and our honor to serve the Republic and the Jedi,” Fox said, reciting the correct response with an ease borne of long practice. “I would be happy to answer any question you have, even those of a personal nature.”

Something about his reply made the General pause, and Fox couldn’t help but curse to himself in the safety of his own head. This was exactly the kind of scrutiny he’d been trying to avoid with General Windu. Would he be able to feel it if the Jedi started digging around in his mind?

Would Fox know it was happening at all?

“Alright,” Vos finally said with a slow nod. “With the customizations, I would assume that your armor is important to all of you. Personally.”

“Yes, sir,” Fox replied, because it was hardly something that could be easily denied, but he also didn’t elaborate on the subject. That would be too dangerous. While the Guard personalized their gear less than some of the other battalions, they all still added flourishes here and there. Little reminders that they were still people, still individuals, beneath the strict protocols and the rigid formality the Senate demanded of its possessions.

But instead of hammering at this minimal departure from regulations as other natborns had done before him, General Vos just asked, “Would a clone trooper ever loan someone else his set of armor?”

That caught Fox a little flat footed. Yes, a clone might gift a single piece of plate, and no, Fox was not about to explain the cultural traditions regarding such an exchange. But an entire set of armor? That was easy enough to answer. “No,” he said firmly.

Whatever reply Vos had been expecting, that obviously hadn’t been it. “No?” he repeated, but it must not have been a serious question, because he didn’t wait for a response before saying, “Interesting.”

Thire, appeared around the landing gear of the Guard transport, slowing awkwardly when he spotted exactly who was speaking with Fox.

“Commander,” Vos said, turning to address Thire with another warm, fake smile. “What can we do for you?”

Thire stiffened, but his voice was smooth and professional when he answered, “The CSF has taken down everyone’s biometrics. They are asking us to clear out of the hanger.”

“Typical,” General Vos said with enough honest sarcasm that Fox had to choke back a sardonic snort of agreement. The Jedi rose to his feet and dusted his hands absently on his thighs. “Commanders, it’s been a pleasure,” he finally said, smiling at them both in turn. “I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Like hells.

The machine hummed loudly, and lights flashed on the other side of Fox’s closed eyelids. Pumped full of Scav’s latest cocktail of meds, neither the sound nor the lights were actively painful. But being inside of a medical scanner always made Fox feel uncomfortable. Trapped. It was easier to just close his eyes and try to not think about it.

Finally, the machine whirred to a stop, and the thinly padded gurney Fox was lying on slid out of the scanner.

He opened his eyes to find Scav scowling down at him.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” his CMO said, sounding personally offended by the whole situation.

“Anything more specific than that?” Fox asked dryly. It wasn’t like Scav to be this vague about medical diagnoses.

“No, our scanners are too osik’la to get an accurate reading on whatever’s going on in there,” Scav said, taking hold of Fox’s opposing arm and helping him sit up.

‘In your kriffed up, defective brain,’ Scav meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Maybe they should have sent him back to Kamino, to let the longnecks pick him apart.

Maybe he should have eaten a blaster bolt and saved his brothers all of this trouble.

Except…

I have three more just like you.

It hadn’t been a dream, just like whatever had happened in the Chancellor’s hanger hadn’t been a hallucination.

And Scav hadn’t even batted an eye when Fox had laid out all of his suspicions in the medic’s small office.

“I’m working on it,” Scav finally said.

Fox eyed his armor, which was stacked against the far wall of the exam room. He had osik he needed to be doing. The Senate was in an uproar. Mas Amedda might hold to the exact same political beliefs as Chancellor Palpatine, but he had far less charm and far fewer allies who owed him personal favors. Apparently he’d said the wrong thing to the wrong mid-Rim Senator during the morning’s open floor debate on an upcoming resource allocation bill, and suddenly everyone was remembering that none of them had actually voted for him to fill the political position he currently held.

The fighting hadn’t even slowed down when the acting Chancellor attempted to call for a brief recess for midmeal. Last Fox heard, aides had started bringing catered meals right out to the Senate pods so their delegates could keep screaming at one another, which was putting a massive strain on the security checkpoints that were trying to scan every box for explosives and toxins.

Stone was keeping a lid on things, but he needed all of the support he could get. Assuming Fox could keep his osik together long enough to actually be of some use.

“Scav?” Fox said as he slid off of the gurney. When his CMO looked up from his ‘pad to glare at him, Fox went ahead and tempted the gods, little and great, by saying, “Work faster.”

AN: If anyone else wants me to tag them as this gets updated, please just let me know. @tazmbc1

[tparker48]

After the battle with belos, Liz and the others started to rebuild from the damages of their fierce battle. In the afterlife, Belos awoken to a void surrounding him, golden orbs of of light spiraling the sky.

"What is this place?" He stretch a hand to the one of the orbs, its sphere like form dispersing in to the air. His foot sinking into sludge below him. "What wretched place Am I in?"

"Welcome, to the world between worlds, or at least somewhere in between." A voice reverberated through the void.

The sludge boiled around Belos, his foot pulled by the current to a whirlpool that swirled in front of him. Its pull tempted to suck it inside, but he yanked it from its chunks, backpedaling as the spiraling sludge grew wider. A splash uprooted the center of the whirlpool, a skull.hovering to the sky above. Eyes opened within the eye sockets, air puffing from the nostrils.

"Hello, Belos" Papa Titan said.

Belos gazed at the towering titan. "As if my days couldn't get any worse, now I've got a titan to deal with."

"That's papa titan to you." He replied, approaching the skinny man. "It seems your time in the mortal plane wasn't a fond one. How was that blast of my magic Luz borrowed?"

"So it was your doing, I knew that brat couldn't get that strong in such a short amount of time. If I had known you were to lend your power to child, I would've flattened the entire realm when I had the chance."

Papa shoved his hands into his pocket. "Seems to me that someome underestimate his opponent. Its good to see that part of you hasn't changed."

It was mine! And I would've gotten it too if weren't for the owl and that cursed child of yours."

Papa titan squinted at the thought, a hand wrapped in a crimson glow slipping from his pocket. "Watch your tone about my son, I may not have been present for your misdeeds, but I'm more than capable of tending to you now."

Its glow illuminated around his body, hus form turning to sludge. "Like what? Kill me? Hah, I've already died once, what makes you think you can kill me again?"

"There are worse things than just death"

Papa flicked his wrist, spinning Belos beneath him. His face stopped as the thick skull was enveloped by the giant belly. He looked around to his limbs, struggling to unlock the golden chains that wrapped around his arms. They refused to budge, ooze from his flesh seeping into the cracks. This cursed magic has been a thorn in his side since the beginning. And he'd eat his omw arm before he succumbed to its might.

Thick footclaws stepped over his shoulders, sinking into the sludge. Belo's sunken eyes widened, the clothed backside hurtling to the ground. When the sturdy legs caved inward, a shroud of blackness blinded his sight, thin fabric laying over his eyes like a curtain. He pawed at its surface in efforts to drag it off, but muscle filled the folds as quick as he could cling to it, its weight crowning over the bridge of his nose.

"Get off me you big buffon! Your too fat to be on a face like mine!"

"Not just fat, im big boned" Papa replied, a sense of glee in his tone, his body growing heavier.

The muddy sludge soaked into his earholes, a claw poking at the corners of his face as it pulled a cheek away. Belos peeked from his left side, an eye socket staring back as it winked with anticipation. A blast erupted from Papa's backside, souring Belos' nose with a foul stench that climbed through his nose holes. He scowled in disgust, pawing at the blubbered backside.

"Disgusting!" Belos pawed at the thick legs.

Papa giggled a bit, overlapping his efforts with a simple rock of his rear. "Told ya there's things worse than deaths, take a century of built of flatulence for instance."

Belos could only face the forward, locked by the muscle beyond the fabric as gurgles lingered beyond. Slowly a bubble cushioned at his face, inflating the muscle as it climbed to the corners of his eyes. It's pop was as strong as a bomb, booming with intense force as muscle slapped onto his nose.

His palms retreated to the muddy sludge, paddling them around as if he were making a snow angel. "All right, what do you want?!"

"Apologize for your your misdeeds, and for mouthing about my son"

"There's no way I'm succombing to those demands, the land could've of been perfect if I had succeeded.

Papa Titan nonchalantly shrugged, easing his claws behind him. "Suit yourself."

He slouched into the watery pile, Belos head succumbimg to his weight as it connected to the sludge. Papa inhaled a heavy breath, the muscular glutes stiffening as if to lock him in. Slowly sulfuric gas spewed from his depths, its musky gust heating his very lungs. No amount of squirming he'd try freed his face from the vice grip of the titan's backside, a single clenched dragging him in as the wrinkled skin beyond the fabric pinched at his nose.

"Alright..Alright!"

Papa tilted his head. "Go on then."

"Im sorry for the damage I caused. And.." He choked on his words, fanning away at the aroma surrounding. Papa squeezed his glutes tighter, a swift blast sending his senses abalze.

"Annnd?" The titan beamed, placing a hand at his chin.

The air began to dissipate, the hole beneath starting to suckle at his nose. Inhaling the dirty air in disgust, he finally caved. "And for mentioning your son."

Papa Tapped at his skull, putting his weight to his knees. "See? That wasn't so hard."

He rose off of Belos, his form slowly starting form back to his human self. When he opened his mouth to speak, a quick blast connected with him, a sour sensation spreading across his tongue. "I thought you said that was it?!"

"That was for me, gotta get my papyback somehow." He chuckled.

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Part Seven

Hello All!

Here is the last part (part seven) of what is the first quarter of Silver In Her Eyes. I've hoped you've enjoyed it so far!

I'm taking a break from Silver as life is getting in the way, I don't know when I will be picking this back up. I do hope it won't be too long.

Please show this some love on Tumblr or Ao3!

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter 7 - writinginthedust - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas [Archive of Our Own]#

For the first time in her life, Feyre wanted Nesta.

Mor would have once been her first choice but there was an ache at the thought of her friends knowing and conferring, conspiring about her life. She’d saved them, but they hadn’t given her the option to save herself.

Elain was in Spring. Not, as Feyre had first been told to build a relationship with Lucien under Rhys’ cautious eye, but to be used as bribery. To get Lucien to convince Tamlin to ally with the Night Court.

Feyre wouldn’t have wanted her anyway. Elain would have been too distraught, too emotional.

Rhys...

Feyre couldn’t think about Rhys.

This wasn’t a case of love. Rhys loved Feyre. This was because Nesta respected Feyre enough to tell her the truth, she who understood that Feyre had a right to her own life, her own choices.

Something newly uncomfortable now lived in Feyre.

Her eldest sister had been torn from her bed, thrown into the Cauldron and then subjected to war after war in a newly formed body. Then, when all was over and Nesta was a shaking mess drinking and fucking her way through Velaris, Feyre had made decisions on her behalf.

They’d worked out, hadn’t they? In the end?

Like a worm in an apple, doubts niggled in Feyre’s mind.

Nesta came when called.

“I’ll do it in here,” Feyre said, as they stood amongst the too white, too bright marble of the bathroom. “There may be blood. I don’t know if there will be blood, there may be lots of-”

Nesta’s fingers pushed between hers as she rambled, Nesta’s cool dry palm against Feyre’s hot slick one and her sister gave her hand a squeeze. Firm but gentle, saying I am here without words.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Nesta said, her voice quiet. She held no rage anymore, just an infinite sadness.

“I need to do this,” Feyre said. “I swore an oath to protect the people of the Night Court. Love takes many forms.”

If she didn’t try to shift into Illyrian form, then her inevitable last breath would start a chain of disaster and death for everyone, including her son if he survived beyond her. If she lived while Nyx died then part of Feyre would be dead anyway. Of all the sacrifices she’d made, this was the one which tore through her.

As though she was in a dream, Feyre stepped into the bathroom, insider her body and strangely outside it too. Her feet were bare and cold against the stone, the fortresses up in her mind lest Rhys discovered what she was doing and tried to stop her.

Feyre sat on the floor on a sheet with Nesta opposite, waiting and watchful. Before she closed her eyes, she saw Nesta’s mouth move as she uttered a prayer.

Then nothing else. Her own breath, Nyx fluttering inside her, as though he was remembering all the words she had spoken to him the previous evening. She held onto the love she had for him, hoping she could wrap him tight in a blanket of it, to protect him from what might happen next.

That will never go my darling. That love will always be for you.

Feyre nudged her body until her bones cracked and her skin stretched, until wings unfurled on her back and her stomach changed shape, shifting and accommodating the small body within. Feyre expected pain but none came, just a sharp discomfort of talons pressing against an organ and then – nothing. No agony, no tangy scent, or trickle of blood.

Had he disappeared from the world like a whisper? Never existing until one second after conception but now in the reverse. Gone like a raindrop in the ocean.

Her hands hovered before her, too scared to touch her own belly to feel flatness.

“Feyre,” said Nesta, her voice light, hopeful. “Look.”

Feyre’s eyes opened and she glanced down. Her belly was the same, round and protruding, the fabric straining over the burgeoning shape. She pushed down and there it was, the press of Nyx’s foot, at first gentle and then more belligerent, kicking against his own mother’s hand.

I am here.

The pinch of continual pain Feyre had felt throughout the pregnancy and believed normal was now absent, leaving behind only comfort.

A sob from her throat turned into a peel of laughter as Nyx’s kicks grew with enthusiasm at the new space he found himself in. Feyre splayed her palms over her stomach, calling out his name over and over before she called out another.

“Rhys,” she exclaimed with joy, “I need to tell Rhys.” But Nesta must have slipped from the room because when Feyre looked up, her sister was gone.

***

Amren had folded in on herself; hunched over, skin pale. There were more streaks of silver in her hair than black and lines were deeply etched on her face. When Rhys arrived, she was sat in a chair facing a window overlooking the brilliant turquoise sea of Summer, a thick blanket wrapped around her legs despite the heat.

Rhys wondered if her hearing had diminished, that she hadn’t heard his name being announced. Even when he drew closer, she didn’t greet him, her eyes remaining transfixed ahead. Only when he stepped into view did she glance up.

“I’m glad Feyre is safe,” she told him, “I will forever live with the guilt that I couldn’t break the pact. I’m glad you’re safe too.”

“Thank you,” he said, setting into the chair placed beside her. “Though it’s not how I wanted things to go.” His words grew clipped, “I’m not pleased that Nes-”

There was a noise from Amren. “It’s done now,” she held up her hand, cutting him off. “Look to the future and be happy.”

Rhys bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood into his mouth. “Yes, well," he gritted out, "I came to see how you are, and ask when you’d be returning to Velaris. We miss you.”

Amren’s laugh was brittle and her chest rattled. “Who’s left to miss me? Don’t you have everyone scattered about?”

Rhys’ turned to look at Amren, irritated that she refused to look back at him, that she stared straight ahead at the landscape beyond. “They will return. The battle may be over but I need to win the war.”

“Well, you will. With your allies and Illyrian soldiers. And the Made weapons of course - if you decide to share them.”

His heart leapt in his chest; he didn’t recall discussing the blades with Amren. “How do you know about those?”

“I still have ears in Night.”

“Cassian then,” Rhys said, curling his lip. “He’s become very loose lipped in recent weeks.”

“No. Not Cassian.”

“Who?”

Amren waved her hand again, discarding his question. She closed her eyes and settled back down into her chair, drawing her blanket closer to her chest. “Doesn’t matter. I may be weak but I’m not without any power.”

Rhys breathed air in through his nose willing his jaw to loosen. Pressing Amren and coming close to losing his temper with her in Summer of all Courts was a sure way to break some allies. It had taken long enough to secure Tamlin and, in the end, he was only swayed by Lucien’s pleas.

Lucien himself had to be cowed by Elain’s doe eyed presence when Rhys carted her before him.

“Come back to the city,” he said, keeping his voice jovial, “bring those astute ears back home.”

Amren shook her head. “My bones hurt and Night is too dark, too cold. Varian ensures I’m well looked after and Summer is providing the restorative effect I need. I crave the light.”

“Plenty of light in the House of Wind.” The sun glinted across the waves in their view. “You’ll find it emptier these days. You could move Varian in.”

Amren turned her head to look at him, slow and cautious, eyes narrowed. “And where have all the occupants gone?”

So, her ears only went so far. That was good to know. Now it was Rhys’ turn to wave his hand. “That doesn’t matter. Say you’ll return.”

Amren took a breath in, her hands curling on the armrest of her chair belying the tension even though she casually rested her head back and closed her eyes. Rhys noted four missing fingers. “No, I don’t want to.”

The hold on his temper was loosening. “You’re a member of the Night Court,” he spat, “a sworn member of the Inner Circle and my second in command, so I command you to come back.”

“You think demands will call me back?” She laughed. “I know why you want me back and its nothing to do with missing me. Feyre will live, as will Nyx - thank the Mother - but the death pact between you and her leaves them vulnerable. Feyre could still be a target for enemies who want to wipe you out.”

"You’re wrong,” Rhys said, knowing Amren saw through his lie. “I’m moving to the final stage of our plan. We will destroy Keir and his allies. He’s secured less Illyrian camps then he thinks and though he has Beron, Eris is now ours.”

Amren raised an eyebrow. “And you think the male who would betray his father wouldn’t betray you?”

“He won’t. He had demands. Demands which can now be met.”

A frown creased over Amren’s face making her look as ancient as she was. An eye opened, a glint of silver glaring at him. “If you mean Nesta, I would advise you exhibit caution in handing her over like some winning prize. No one knows what she can do-”

“What she could do. She’s a candle burnt to the end.” He tucked what Amren had said away. Only Mor knew Eris’ request regarding  Nesta. Between this and Amren knowing about the Made weapons, Rhys would have to look closer at his cousin.

Amren shook her head. “If that is the case, then let her live in peace. She once wanted a cottage outside the city where she could be alone. Allow her to have that life. Allow Cassian to have it with her.”

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? It would lose you Eris, is that what you think? We can convince him to take a different route, one that doesn’t involve trading the future of another.”

Rhys clutched his fist to his chest. “Is that what you think of me? That I would treat my mate’s sister in such a way? It would be dangerous for Nesta to live outside the city. If something were to happen, how could I look Feyre in the eye and tell her harm had befallen her sister?”

Footsteps sounded across the marble floor. Rhys could see Varian approach, either to remove Rhys or take Amren away.

Amren looked past Rhys; her face softening a fraction as she saw who was coming towards her. When she looked back to Rhys, it had hardened again and for a moment she was the Amren of before – young and sharp and dangerous.

“It’s easy of course,” she said with a false sweetness, “clutch her hands, put on your most pathetic expression and tell her there is no danger and never will be. After all, you’re the most brilliant High Lord, the most trustworthy. She’ll believe you in everything.”

Varian breezed past Rhys without acknowledgement, his hands going to two handles on the back of Amren’s chair Rhys hadn’t previously noticed.

Varian said nothing, neither did Amren, as they left the room leaving Rhys alone with the endless bright blue sky.

[saintseed-family]

“I think I’ve outgrown these as well,” Janus sighed, trying his best to lace up the front of his trousers.

He had gotten by so far in this experience with his already baggy and large clothing, but he had to admit he was much larger now in the belly and chest and things were beginning to get snug.

“We’ll have to get you some new clothes then,” Thorn replied.  “My mother might still have some of her maternity robes that may fit.”

Janus frowned.  “That’s fine and all, but I’d rather have some clothes of my own,” said Janus, “Your mother is a lovely lady, but I ain’t walking around town wearing her clothes.”

He knew Thorn didn’t fully get this.  Firbolgs didn’t really have a concept of “men’s clothes” or “woman’s clothes” - clothes were clothes, and they were handed down regardless of gender.  Normally this was refreshing, but when Janus has been feeling a bit like a bloated beast with wide hips and a swollen chest, he craved a bit of the normalcy of wearing his own clothes.

In his infinite wisdom, Thorn didn’t push the issue.  “You’re absolutely right,” agreed Thorn.  “Perhaps we can ask Dale to do some modifications to your clothes?  They were always quite good with sewing.”

“If they aren’t too busy,” Janus grumbled.  “I don’t want to bother ‘em too much.”

“Janus, you know my siblings have been dying for an opportunity to help us, my darling,” laughed Thorn. “Dale would be delighted we asked, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Thorn was the eldest of four children.  There was his identical twin sister, Thistlefont, his younger sibling Ferndale, and his youngest brother Mossimo.  Ever since finding out Janus was pregnant, they all had been constantly stopping by his home to offer their assistance with everything: meal prep and laundry, and of course the newly started construction of the second story of their house for the baby’s room.

 Janus was overwhelmed by it, and sometimes it even felt like they were underestimating him.  Learning to accept the help had been difficult, but as the pregnancy went on Janus found himself more and more exhausted.  Thorn’s daily spell helped a lot, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had a baby growing inside him, and it took a lot out of him.  

Thorn assured him that Thistle, Dale and Moss knew Janus could take care of himself, but they wanted to help because they were happy for the two of them and excited about the baby.  Janus figured this was a sibling thing, which he just didn’t understand having been alone his whole childhood.

“A’ight, Dale can help,” Janus sighed.  “As long as they don’t do anything too wild with m’ clothes.”

A week later, Janus found himself sitting on a chair in the living room while Dale rummaged through a bag of the modified clothing they had worked on.

Dale looked very much like Thorn with dark gray long hair and pale soft gray fur, but they wore their hair in a more loose and dramatic style that framed their face with long, messy bangs.  They also had more piercings than Thorn, including a nose ring with a long chain attached to one of their ears.  Janus couldn’t see much of the work they had done while the clothes were in the bag, but he could see lots of colorful patterns that he did not recognize.

“I added extra fabric to some of your looser tops,” they explained, handing Janus one of the tunics.  The side seams had been split, and a wide piece of fabric had been sewn in between with large stitches.  “Added lacing to some of these as well.  You’ll have to do without the leathers for a while for anything but chest support, but the rest of this should be comfortable and functional.”  They pointed at the large stitches.  “These will be easy to remove once your pregnancy is over, and we’ll be able to restitch your tunics to their old size.”

“Thank ya kindly, Dale,” Janus said, taking the offered tunic.  Even though they didn’t quite match, the added fabric was sewn in well enough that someone looking casually might not realize they’d been altered.  He removed the robe he had been wearing and pulled the tunic over his head.  It was loose, but it did not feel too much different than his old clothes had been.

“Mama sent this as well,” Dale said, digging in the bag to pull out a long piece of bright red fabric with yellow stars.  Janus recognized it as some of the specially dyed patterned fabric this village was known for. “She says it’s to help with your back.” 

Janus thought of the wraps he had seen expecting mothers in the village wear.  Long, bright scarves that they wound around the underside of the belly, and then cross their back and around their shoulders.  He hadn’t thought much of it, but it made sense that the scarf was helping support the mothers as they carried such a heavy load.

He took the scarf in both hands, and tried with futility to figure out how to wrap it in a way that would let the fabric actually stay on his rounded body.

“Damn it,” Janus muttered, and he heard Thorn laugh.  “How the hell do they tie these things?”

“Allow me to help, my lovely peapod.”  That was his newest nickname for Janus - the cub was their pea.  The fond laugh Janus found himself giving offset the mild irritation he was feeling about not being able to tie the sash.

Taking the scarf, Thorn got behind Janus and carefully wrapped it around him.  He couldn’t quite see how Thorn was doing it, but he could feel the fabric crossing his back and looping around his shoulders, and that provided just a touch more support than he had before as it lifted his belly, taking some weight off his back.

“Wow that… that feels pretty good!” Janus said as he felt Thorn tying off the scarf.

“You’ll have to practice putting this on without me,” Thorn chuckled.  “I believe these can also be used as a baby sling, so we’ll definitely be getting a lot of use out of it.”

Janus had the fleeting impression of himself with a tiny baby strapped to his back with the bright and colorful scarf, and he suddenly started to tear up.

“Oh no darling, are you alright?” Thorn asked, taking his hand.

“I-I’m fine,” sniffed Janus, doing his best to keep the tears back.  “Just thinking… about the cub.  I know we’re still a ways off, but I just can’t wait to meet them.”

[purplebass]

Hold it Together - Blackdale

Canon divergent. This is a conversation between Lucie and Jesse that I see happen after the face off on the Institute grounds in Chapter 26 of Chain of Thorns. It is a follow up one shot of my scene fix-it/rewrite called "Five". You don't need to read it to understand the context of this one because I give it. If you read "Five", you saw that in my rewrite Jesse isn't able to speak to his father because Lucie can't keep his ghost in their world anymore. If you haven't read "Five", now you know lol that this is the first canon divergence thing. The second is that Grace kills Tatiana instead of Cordelia, and that Christopher is alive :) All these information are given in the fic but I wanted to tell you before you start to warn you about what is different in here. This is the first of two or maybe three one shots. The second one shot will be about Gracetopher and it will be canon divergent as well. :)

Read on A03 💙

Lucie felt the cold first. She wasn’t sure where it came, but it seemed as if it spoke to her, as if it was luring her somewhere, as if it was begging her to follow. Unlike warmth, cold had a way of pricking your skin and getting deep under your bones. You can fight cold with warmth, but sometimes – she felt that prickling sensation and pushed herself to react. Move, her mind told her. Open your eyes. And yet, she didn’t. Not yet. She needed a little bit of –

“The iratzes are fading,” she vaguely heard the voice of a boy. He was frantic. “They are not holding –”

“We need to keep trying,” a female voice cut in, urgent as the other person. “Do it here, Jesse.”

Jesse. That was the voice. Jesse. Why am I here? Why are you –

She needed to do something. She needed – warmth started spreading up her arms and legs. The prickling sensation, she realized, were the iratzes, whatever they were. Her mind was blank, her body limp, until it wasn’t anymore. Until the warmth reached her hands, reached her fingers. She felt renewed energy grow inside of her, she was –

“She’s waking up,” she heard his voice, Jesse’s voice, announce with relief. She opened her eyes slowly and found him staring at her, his deep green eyes set with worry. “Lucie,” he muttered, and she tried sitting up. Thanks to his hand, she could.

“I am fine,” she stuttered. She sat on the hard stone of the Institute stairs, Jesse’s hand keeping her back upright, in case she would fall. Cordelia was on the other side of her, and their eyes met. Her friend grinned at her, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She was worried about her, but she would be okay. “What happened?”

“Well, what do you remember?”

“I tried to keep Rupert here until I could not anymore,” she recounted with sadness. “And I saw Grace run –” she stopped abruptly, taking in the scene around her, until her eyes fixed on the iron gate. “Is she,” she began with a sigh, glancing at Jesse but not wanting to say the words.

His expression darkened, but it was Cordelia who answered her. “Yes,” she said without emotion. “She is dead. Tatiana Blackthorn is dead.”

*

“You need to rest, Lucie,” Jesse declared afterwards, once they retreated to her bedroom. He had filled her in on what she missed on the way upstairs. Tatiana Blackthorn was dead. Grace had stabbed her. Five times. Christopher was hurt but he was alive, and he would survive. 

Jesse arranged the pillows on her bed and she sat in the middle of the mattress with her legs crossed. “You need to regain your strength. What you did earlier –” he sighed. “it took you great effort”.

“Are the Watchers truly gone?”

“They are,” he said. He was staring out of her window. “For the moment. It seems like she controlled them. Once she lost control…”

Lucie noticed how he avoided saying his mother’s name, and she wondered if he was looking at the place where she had fallen. Tatiana had been moved to the sanctuary, but still. Her lifeless body lay there just an hour ago. “Jesse,” she called, and he grinned when she met his gaze. “Come sit here,” she proposed, patting the mattress next to her.

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds and then walked to the bed. Lucie could see it. His eyes were weary, his hair mussed up because of the wintry wind blowing outside. On another occasion, he might have used his willpower to argue, but not today. He sat down close to her, in a way that they would touch but still at a safe distance. 

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” she said after a long silence passed between them. He glanced at her, his eyes questioning, asking. A lot of things had happened on that chilly morning, and despite having retreated inside for a good hour already, she still wasn’t warm. She bit her lip and hugged her torso. “I wish I could’ve kept your father here more. I wish he could’ve talked to you too, but,” she sighed in frustration, her lip trembling. “I couldn’t keep up. My body gave up.”

“You were reckless,” he countered, and Lucie knew he wasn’t mad at her, just protective.  “Everytime you attempt this, it takes an enormous toll on you,” he took the blanket from the side of the bed and put it around her shoulders with care. “You shouldn’t have risked it. At the same time,” he shook his head, “it worked. She crumbled after he confessed his true feelings.”

Lucie mouthed a thanks and threw one side of the blanket over his back. He frowned, but he still accepted it. “Grace suggested it,” she explained, clutching at the locket around her throat. “It was a smart idea, and I was the only one who could do it. In fact, it did have the desired –” she frowned, seeing his expression harden, “it ended up in our favor.” 

He just answered with a nod, and sank into the pillows behind him. He wasn’t looking at her, but at the ceiling, lost in thought. Most likely replaying the scene in his head. His father confessed more of Tatiana’s absurd goals. The both of them ceased to exist almost at the same time. One, because of his ghost nature. The other, because she was dead. 

She couldn’t fathom what he must be feeling, but she could imagine it. Even though Jesse had never met his father, he had always loved him by default. He told her as much a couple of months before. With Tatiana, it was more complicated. They never openly talked about her, and she thought that he might have cared for his mother when he was a child. She had been his whole world, after all, until Grace came along. Then, Grace became his whole world.

Lucie lay down so she would face him. He had made sure she was comfortable and she wanted to do the same for him. He barely asked for things because he wasn’t used to kindness. He wasn’t used to receiving and she wanted to change that. She wanted to give him everything he never had. She wanted them to survive this. 

She grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers together. A simple gesture that meant: I am here for you. I am not the only one who needs resting, you do as well. He turned his head and fixed a strand of hair that had escaped her pins behind her ear. It was so gentle, and Lucie closed her eyes briefly to savor the gesture. 

“Are you okay?” She knew that it was a tough question, but she had to ask. She didn’t know if he would answer, but she would try. Love also meant letting the other person know that you were there for them and that you were willing to listen.

He huffed. “Are you?” She nodded, placing their entwined hands on his heart. She could feel it pulsing under her knuckles, his beats quickened when she did this. “I don’t know,” he answered after a good minute. His other hand was on his stomach as if he was trying to hold himself together. “A lot of things happened at once,” he mumbled. “I met my father for the first time, I saw my mother for the last time,” he stared at her and sighed. “I wish I could have done something, but I felt – I felt paralyzed. I should’ve been a better brother. I should’ve –” his voice broke, and he paused, avoiding her eyes. “It should’ve been me. I should’ve saved her the pain of taking a life.”

“Jesse,” Lucie spoke as softly as she could. “Do not beat yourself up because of how you reacted. You were shaken by what was happening. Grace was already in pain before this, and I am sure that it must’ve been a tough choice for her. But she eventually chose to land the knife,” she continued. “Have you ever thought that she must’ve found it liberating? Have you ever thought she might’ve hated you if you had taken that choice away from her?” 

“I just wanted to protect her,” he confessed. “And perhaps, she already hates me.”

“I know. But, Jesse,” she allowed, his eyes waiting for her to continue. “As much as this is noble, it’s also very stupid. You don’t protect the people you love by taking the hit in their place. Or their choices away from them. Some things may seem reckless to you,” she raised an eyebrow at him, and he understood she also meant her decision to call on Rupert’s ghost. “But they could be important and necessary to somebody else,” she added. “Why would you believe she hates you?”

He heaved a long sigh. “I reacted too rashly when I visited her in the Silent City,” he admitted. “I was too harsh and too insensitive, but I only realized it after I returned here,” he said. “I planned to go back today to apologize for my behavior, and then –” he huffed. 

“Then this happened,” Lucie nodded, and Jesse shrugged, defeated. “You still have time to do that, though. To apologize and to support Grace. I’m sure she still wants that. She loves you dearly.”

“I thought you didn’t like Grace,” he frowned, skeptical. They were face to face now, because he had also turned on his side.

“I didn’t like what she did to my brother, that much is true,” she admitted. “But I tried to understand her, and I think that she deserves a little slack. She is also a victim. I’m not saying we will become tight friends in the future, but you never know. After all, making plans for the future is a bit rash at the moment.”

“We’ll just think about the present, then,” he grinned at her, but he didn’t add more about Grace. She only hoped that they could talk about their issues and solve their misunderstanding. 

He fixed the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She felt grateful that they could be alone for a while. Lucie blushed, and moved her head closer to his. “I wish I could kiss you right now, but we can’t,” she confessed quietly. 

“We cannot, unfortunately,” he mumbled with resignation. “But we can lay here side by side, enjoy each other’s company and try to rest.”

“Do you mean sleep?” she asked. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Rest can mean many things, Lucie,” he debated with a chuckle. “We can also look at the ceiling, or we could stare at each other, but I guess I’d be tempted to kiss you if we did.”

She giggled, feeling warmer, finally. She guessed it was because of Jesse’s proximity, but also because of what he’d just told her. It made her heart flutter and her cheeks heat. He also provoked some other reactions to her body, but she decided not to think about that. 

“I think it is better to try to rest for a little while,” she decided. 

“I agree,” he nodded, and offered her a tiny smile before closing his eyes.

Lucie didn’t want to close her eyes, not yet. Her gaze lingered long enough on his pale face and dark lashes. On his chest that rose and fell at every beat of his heart. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, the weight of that morning worn him out. He was peaceful as he lay there, so close to her, so calm and full of smiles, but she knew he wasn’t okay. 

He had opened up to her, and she was thankful that he had trusted her with a piece of his soul. He had shared some of his doubts and fears, and she had listened and had tried to comfort him, but there was still more to unpack, more to face. Right now, both of their futures, everyone’s futures, hung on by a thread. If they pulled the wrong strings, they would be on the brink of death. And Lucie didn’t want that. No. She wanted to live a long life with Jesse and their loved ones.

She yawned, tiredness overtaking her already exhausted body. She curled up closer to him, rested a hand on his chest and closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.

*

I don't have to say much (I said most of what I wanted to say at the beginning). I just hope you enjoyed this. I really wanted to address what Lucie thinks of Grace, because I believe that she would rethink about her situation after Grace ran to the Institute before Tatiana arrived. I believe that they could become friends in the future, because they have matching personalities. Lucie may be annoyed at first because of the bracelet business, but I think she would move on, eventually. I liked the idea that she tries to make Jesse understand that he can't always save everyone and sometimes his choices (at least the ones in this fic, that he wanted to kill Tatiana to spare Grace the moral toll that comes with taking a life) are what in literature we call "noble idiocy" lol he also does that with Lucie in this fic, and I wanted him to understand that sometimes you need to let the people you love choose for themselves. And even though he said those things to Grace in the Silent City, he can still apologize and try to support her and also talk about what happened.

[skylerskyhigh]

Working on chapter 7 of "Your Dream"

I'll work on this on and off due to life. But here's a small snippet of what I have! Also, can anyone guess what song I have planned?

"Careful now," Leon said in faux softness, grinning at the Kraang with a look worthy of a villain. "We don't want you to spoil the fun."

Subprime sputtered for a moment before he glared. "You got lucky! I've studied you! I have seen what you can do and it is pathetic! Even with the power you obtained, you are mere untrained fools! The threats in this world are child's play!  You will be easy to eradicate! Once I find this world's Kraang and the armor, we will work together and end your pitiful lives!"

"Kraang?" Donnie repeated in surprise.

"Dark armor?" Raph echoed with wide eyes.

Subprime smirked, delighted by their shock. "Yes. Once I finish you off, I will use the blue one to open the portal and get this world's Kraang and Shredder by our side. You children will not be able to stop the might of Kraang-!"

They burst into uproarious laughter again. 

"Are you- Are you serious?!" April wheezed, wrapping her arm around her stomach. "You're not serious right?"

"Is Raph hearing things? Raph thinks he's hearing things!" Raph laughed with a hand to his head. 

"The Shredder? The Kraang?!" Mikey broke down laughing again, slapping his leg.

"I can't breathe!" Donnie wheezed, nearly falling to the floor with how much he was laughing.

"You must be joking," CJ said with an incredulous grin, his eye twitching as he stares at the alien in disbelief. "Is- is this a time travel thing again? Did you accidentally make a time portal instead of a universe-hopping one?"

Cass huffed, checking her nails with a frown. "As much as it is an insult to my former master- as if he would ever join the likes of you- you are too late." 

"What?" Subprime gaped at them.

"Hahaha! Aw buddy, did you stop after season one?" Leon asked in a mocking tone like he was talking to a child. "Did your connection cut off? Or did you watch a few episodes and decided you knew everything about us?"

"What?" Subprime glared at him, confused and offended.

Leon leans forward and flashed him a grin. "Hey friend, that thing about us being 'untrained fools'? That was two years ago."

Subprime's face falls. 

"Going on three," Donnie added, holding his hand up to display three fingers.

"The Shredder?" Leon splayed his hands like a magician showcasing a new trick. "Gone."

"The Kraang?" Leonidas waves his hand like he's revealing a card trick. "Poof."

"We've stopped every threat that came our way," Raph grins, standing taller with pride as he grips his tonfas tighter.

"Big or small," April tilts her head with a smirk, her green bat bursting into flames. 

"And we won every time baby!" Mikey twirls the chain of his kusari-fundo. 

"The only pathetic thing here is you," Donnie chuckles, resting his bo staff against the back of his neck.

"I almost feel bad for what we're about to do," Leon hums. He reached behind him and pulls out his two odachi swords. "Buuut not bad enough. See, we got newcomers to show off to and you've been a real thorn by their side. Invading their home. Attacking them countlessly. Refusing to die like a cockroach."

They look over to the newcomers who straighten at the sudden attention. 

Leon grins and winked. "And they've given us the go-ahead to kick your butt."

He turns back to the enraged-looking Kraang. "Third, you're a Kraang. And to be honest-"

His eyes flashed bright blue and his face briefly twists into a furious snarl. "We've had enough Kraang for an entire lifetime."

The air grows electrified with building energy. His family all share the same sentiment.

Subprime stares in growing nervousness.

"So let's give them all a show while we treat you like the dog toy you are," Leonidas clapped his hands. "Donnie, give our alternates the best seats please."

"On it!"

[savebatsfromscratch]

No.21 ‘Till Death Do Us Part.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51001621

Words: 1,651

Cws: Possible death, (it’s left open to interpretation), definitely kidnapping, losing a spouse, dread?

Prompt: No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.” Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

Notes: I’m SO SORRY Teashipping community, I really want to write nice stuff about them, but this is all that I find myself spitting out. XD

Daisy readjusted the papers on her clipboard, squinting at the rare Pokemon she was tracking as she fought to keep an eye on it. The forest was a mess of underbrush and vines, but that was what she and Bill were here for. In order to combat the habitat destruction currently happening in the coral reefs and dark caves of her region and its colonies, Bill had devised a plan to show exactly how important a pristine natural environment was.

Daisy scribbled down a note on her paper, seeing a small scratch on the ear of the eevee, but sure to notice that it did not seem to be hindering the little creature in any way. She was so proud of Bill for thinking of this idea. In the past she had joked that she loved him so much that she couldn't stop thinking about him even while researching, and someday she was going to go over her notes and find a draft of a proposal written there instead.

Well, when that joke had become a reality, she just had to follow through with it, didn't she?

Her wedding ring fit comfortably on her finger, and it clacked lightly against her pen as she readjusted her clipboard once again. She couldn't help but smile as she caught her mind drifting away from her work and to her husband. He was the only thing that had ever been able to do that to her. She laughed and shook her head slightly, tapping her pen against the paper in an effort to get her focus back. This was his dream project, she had to focus! (After all, he was right behind her, focusing on his own piece of the project, she really should be working on hers.)

She looked back at the Pokemon and tried to make up for what she'd missed in daydreaming. The Eevee with the scratch on its ear, a really young looking Pikachu who had somehow already evolved from a Pichu, and... She squinted. Where had the other one gone? She scooted a little farther, scanning the complicated spaghetti strings of thorns for the Charmander that had been playing with the others just a few seconds ago. 

She looked a little harder, her pen seeming to scratch of its own accord as she focused on what was actually happening with the Pokemon. Both of them were standing still and silent, none of their adorable playing that they had been so invested in mere moments before. She blinked as if to clear a film from her eyes, but no, the two were still there, shivering in fear. (As if they knew something that she didn’t.)

She looked all around, but she didn’t see any of the threats that the Pokemon seemed so scared of. She felt her eyebrows knit together. Predation was definitely a natural fact of a well protected natural environment, but now that she was seeing the scared looks on the little animal’s faces, she was beginning to feel that awful chill of dred as well. Something felt very off there, but she didn’t have a clue what.

And then it hit her.

“Bill,” she whispered, trying to keep as quiet as possible, more out of panic rather than to not disturb the natural scene around them, “Do you hear anything?”

Bill stopped his scribbling, looking at her in confusion for a few moments before the utter silence of the forest registered to him. His eyes were suddenly lit with concern, and he squeezed Daisy’s hand tightly. “No,” his murmured, even quieter than she had been, “There could be a large predator in the area,”

Daisy looked nervously around them once more. Just because they were completely concealed in underbrush and sandwiched between two rotting tree trunks didn’t mean anything if there was a large Pokemon coming towards them. (Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the Eevee and the Pikachu scampered off into the underbrush, presumably deciding that their chances were better if they ran.)

“What should we do?” Daisy asked, leaning into Bill as her heartbeat spiked in intensity, “Do you think we can handle a large Pokemon?”

Bill nodded slowly and patted a Pokeball on his hip, but he didn’t look entirely convinced with himself either. If there did happen to be a large, predatory Pokemon around here, it probably wouldn’t decide to attack them, but if it did… Bill was a lot of things, a lot of wonderful things, but a good battler wasn’t exactly one of them. Daisy pulled her legs a little closer to her chest, gripping Bill’s hand as tightly as she could manage without accidentally hurting him.

“Hey,” Bill whispered, brushing a string of Daisy’s behind her ear, “I vowed to protect you, remember?”

Daisy felt her heart swell as the memories replayed in her mind. A gorgeous wedding. Not too big, not too small, the perfect mix of family and friends. Food that she could have given her left leg to eat every day, a good mix of battlers and performers as their entertainment. The prettiest dress she’d ever seen. It had been a perfect wedding, with so many amazing parts that she couldn’t even list them all, but even so, she knew what her favorite had been.

Call her old fashioned, but Daisy had always thought that the best part of a wedding were the vows. How could a pretty cake or a nice dress ever compare to that glowing love that had filled her when Bill pledged his love to her, from now into forever, and that true, calming meaning of forever that she had felt when she had pledged her love to him? How could it ever compare to that truth of perfect love?

“Yes,” she whispered, pulled back into the present as a hungry wind rushed through the trees above them, “I remember,”

“Well,” Bill smiled that ever jokey smile of his, “I’m going to! Don’t you worry a bit, you’re safe with me!”

Daisy stifled a giggle, but she was cut off as the sudden sound of footsteps started coming through the woods. Instantly Bill’s expression changed to one of alarm, and Daisy’s heartbeat picked up in tempo once more.

“That’s not a Pokemon,” Daisy hissed, hearing awful human voices floating through the twisted trees. In any other situation, the sound of a human would have made Daisy feel better, but something about those barking laughs was all wrong.

“I know,” Bill hissed back, pressing closer to her as if to shield her from what they didn’t even know yet. His breathing was coming hard and fast, and Daisy had to admit that she wasn’t faring any better.

“Where are they?” Daisy whispered, her fingernails digging into Bill’s palm as she squeezed his hand. (They had been holding hands for so long now that his wedding ring now felt warm in her hands.)

“I don’t know,” Bill answered, his eyes glowing with panic as the footsteps and voices grew louder, “But if they see us…” They held still for a little longer, shivering as the people grew closer and closer to their hiding spot. 

“...that’s the plan,” one of them was saying, “We take over the company and we’ll have free stock,”

Daisy and Bill looked at each other in alarm, suddenly very aware that they should have taken after the Pokemon and ran long ago. Without even speaking, they knew each other’s plans. They had to get out of there, now.

Daisy started the race, jumping up and over the tree trunk as she dragged Bill after her. Immediately, she saw the men she had been hearing. Four or five of them, all dressed in the traditional black garb of grunts of an evil team, and all looking right at her and Bill. The problem was, they were only a few feet away.

“Run!” Daisy yelled, but the two of them didn’t get very far before the men reached them. Hands wrapped around Bill, and he screamed as he was yanked to a stop. His hand was torn out of hers, and one of the men laughed as Bill was forced to the ground.

“Bill!” Daisy yelled, skidding to a stop of her own in order to look back at her husband. “No!” The remaining men inched closer to Daisy, but she did not budge.

“Run!” Bill yelled. Despite the hold the grunts had on him, he only seemed focused on her safety, “Please!”

“No!” She screamed, fumbling for Pokeballs but finding none on her person, “I can’t leave you! I love you!” The evil men seemed to laugh, and one began to reach for a weapon on his waist as Daisy continued to stand there.

“Run,” Bill whispered again, so quiet Daisy could not hear, but loud enough that she understood every word, “I want you safe, please, keep yourself safe for me,”

Daisy felt tears begin to rush down her face, but she nodded. 

She ran.

She ran for so long she didn’t know what was what anymore, tearing through thorns and ferns and feeling the cold wetness of streamwater fill her boots. She ran for so long that the shouts of the men disappeared into the darkness of the forest behind her. She ran for so long that her head began to swim with cotton and fuzz, but it could not stop her from thinking about her husband.

Shaking, she dropped to her knees. “Bill!” She sobbed, feeling thorns prick into her knees, “Bill!” 

He had promised that they would always be together! He had promised her would protect her! He had promised they would love each other until the ends of their lives! They had so much more to do together, how could she have just left him like that?!

Daisy curled up in the rotting leaves.

Bill was gone, and it was all her fault.

[vwritesaus]

There is a house on Curzon Street that James has taken a liking to.       An old dwelling, its design belongs easily to a bygone British era, yet it continues to stand strong. Four storeys high, it blends in with the surrounding houses of red, brown, and black brickwork, with countless windows trailing high to the sky and elaborate entryways of wrought iron railings and archways.       A completely ordinary-looking house for this part of London. There’s nothing truly exciting about it, at least by comparison.       And yet James can’t stop staring at it.       He allows himself to drink in every detail despite already knowing them: the rusty patch on the fence, the few steps leading to the dark blue front door, the number of windows, the pot plant in the corner of the top step, the grey curtains of what could be a living room, the golden glow of the ceiling light pouring through one of the top window panes…       His heart dances funnily as he roves over them all, as it usually does. This time, however, the yearning is so strong, James wants to go and knock on the front door, just to see inside.       But he can’t do that. That’s weird.       ‘What’s so special about it?’ Matthew asks.       ‘I don’t know,’ James whispers earnestly, shrugging helplessly. He places a hand on his chest, rubbing along his sternum over his shirt and adds, ‘It just… it’s like my heart knows it. Thinks it important. For whatever reason that may be.’       His throat closes off, a large lump forming, and a wave of remorse crashes over him. He doesn’t say anything else in fear of not being about to speak—but not that he needs to for Matthew links their arms together and gently pulls James into his side. James’s head falls on Matthew’s shoulder and the house wobbles dangerously in his vision.       This house.       This damn house.              Something shifts in the air and his head flies up. Matthew makes a stunned sound. James ignores him.       For the briefest of moments, like a glitch on a screen, James sees a woman in emerald green with tumbling red hair standing by the front door. She throws a radiant smile over her shoulder at him and James’s lips silently form the syllables of her name.       And then she’s gone.

why HELLO THERE and welcome to my biggest project to date that i've poured my blood, sweat and tears since august last year: a TLH modern/mundane au & reincarnation au set in 2013/14 London! i posted some of this back in october, but after much editing and reworking... it's back, new and improved >:3

but srsly like i said in the older posts, i’m so so excited about this story. it’s been my baby since i finished COI, and when i say ch1 is a whopping 17k... yeah. the size of this fic worries me but hey, when the brainworms hit, what can you do?

and it's only gonna get longer once i get my hands on my copy of chain of thorns, mark my words

to start with tho, here's an altered excerpt from chapter 1!! i'll be posting the full chapter on saturday night/early sunday morn AEDT so stay tuned~ ✨

and a huge shoutout to Mary (@ferrari-go-vroom-vroom) for betaing, thank you soooo much, you're the best 💜

~

tagging people who might be interested: @astriefer @drunkonimagination @melanielocke @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @livingformyself let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

also FYI i'm only tagging adults as the fic (currently rated M) will be heading towards rating E territory in later chapters

p.s. please keep the tags/reblogs/replies free of chain of thorns spoilers for the foreseeable future!! thank you <3

[gremlinwithakeyboard]

So I started a master mode melee terraria playthrough a week ago

To quote myself from last week:

This is Casey

he is a catboy

he is about to die

a lot

And this is where he will die a lot

And so they did. Most of the first few hours of this were spent running from enemies, hiding from enemies and waiting to respawn. It was particularly difficult spawning on a windy day. I've never seen those dang dandelions before but they were the bane of my life.

I seem to keep making underground bases, and I happened to spawn near a nice cave so I knew what I had to do.

In master mode you drop all your coins in your inventory, so it took me absolutely ages to even save up for a piggy bank.

After a while I was finally able to start getting some good weapons. I got an exotic scimitar after the dye trader had a tragic accident with some boulders I placed. I found a mace from a chest which turned out to be really strong once I crafted it into a flaming mace. I was even able to buy a katana from the travelling merchant. But things didn't start getting much easier until I got my hands on an ice boomerang. I'd originally gone down there looking for an ice blade but this got the job done too. I was finally able to mine in a bit more peace and get full gold armor.

I decided some basic jungle stuff would be good to get next so I set up a house in the jungle to save time getting back when I had to respawn/magic mirror out.

So I was almost done with this base. I'd gone back and grabbed a piggy bank when I got yet another "evil presence watching you" notification. I did what I'd done with the last few and fled to the underground to stop the eye spawning. I gathered a few more jungle spores and stingers, and noticed I had quite a lot of money on me so, thinking it was late enough to go back to the surface, I went back up. I'd just plonk my piggy bank down and deposit my money.

I was wrong. The eye was on me as soon as I got up. There was no chance of placing the piggy bank so I began my mad dash back to my main base. I ran through the forest, through the desert and through another forest. I was able to safely deposit my money, so now there were no consequences to fighting back.

It was almost 4AM by the time it finished me off. I didn't have the DPS to do it yet. So I got back to farming stuff in the jungle. I got an amazon yoyo. I also fought my way through my first blood moon in the world but then lost the 4 gold I'd got from it dying stupidly right before the night ended. The zombie swarm I'd decided to fight picked up all my stuff and promptly despawned. I was getting stronger though. Especially with my new thorn chakram. I'd just need to set up a nice skybridge and I'd be good to go for king slime. A bit more grinding couldn't hurt, though.

I was back getting more spores, vines and stingers when I got the message again. "Frick it," I decided. "Let's see how low I can get it with my new stuff." So I magic mirrored back to the tree, deposited my money in the piggy bank, had a coffee for the plenty satisfied buff, swapped out my accessories for maximum speed and waited for it to show up.

Once again, the boss roared to life and I began to run back to the world spawn, making sure to stay a bit closer to it this time so I could continually pelt it with my thorn chakram. About halfway through the desert I decided to try pulling out my yoyo for some damage, and boy did it shred through the thing. It hit its second form as I arrived back at my base, and it wasn't even halfway through the night.

The second phase was intense. I stayed near my base to avoid zombies, but it was still difficult evading some of its chain dashes. I just kept hitting it with my yoyo when I could, and the NPCs in the base helped a bit too.

Its health was getting lower and lower, but its dashes were getting faster and faster. I couldn't aim with my yoyo any more. I was only getting in one or two hits per series of dashes. There was no way I'd get it before it got me. I swapped back to the thorn chakram. That seemed to hit it more, and of course there was the poison debuff too.

It hit 200 health and started dashing like mad. There was no evading it anymore. I had to kill it before it killed me. It hit 100 health. I hit 50. I kept throwing. It kept charging. I was one hit away from death. I was going to lose. I was so close.

Turns out it was only one hit away from death too, and I hit first.

That was probably the most intense eye of cthulhu fight I've had in terraria ever. One of the more intense boss fights too. It was dead fun though. I guess my skybridge will be built with plant pots all the way through! I think it's probably a good time to grab a slime hook, and try and smash a shadow orb so I can get the goblin next. Especially since I already have everything I need for lightning boots.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

agoraphobia

it's interesting how quickly you can change from yourself

I've always known myself to be adventurous

as long as I have a car and some music I can go anywhere

and never have to leave my normal plane of exisitence

I think there's something about the energy moving

with the wind and the windows down and me just

screaming out whatever I feel into the playful air

my hair everywhere and one arm out like I'm flying

one on the wheel because I'm a responsible adult

that despite my friendly melancholy do love to live

I think I forgot to for awhile and didn't mind being

some sort of ghost of myself chained to the responsilbites

and duties I willing chose to take and make the most with

the resources began to slip away and I adapted until

I become a silhouette of slowly learned helplessness

it didn't matter what I did or how I tried to overcome

everything just kept crumbling beneath me

and when I struggled everyone joined the chorus

of how it was my fault if I reached out so I stopped

and made the best of what I could do with what I had

until I didn't even want to leave my house or face any

kind of reality that I couldn't control or balance

and outside in that crazy would it's difficult to do that

the more stressed I become the more rigid I become

everything feels like it has jagged edges and thorns

especially my memories so let's just find a place

to hide for awhile and find a way to self soothe

ignore the world closing in around me and find

something to do to get through the feelings

releasing trauma is understanding the experience consciously

and walking slowly through it while feeling the hysteria

of the past and understanding you're still in the present

it's a wild sort of energy and I could never say I like it

today there must have been too many transitions

there wasn't conflict but there were every day things

that had attachments that kept piling up

until all at once I couldn't grasp my thoughts

or understand where I was and nothing worked to ground me

I was a fluttering of all my wings and anxieites

trapped, helpless, and so embarrassed about it

to the point where my nausea felt like a friend

after going through the usual self-soothing

and nothing working I felt the panic begin to rise

but there was a touchstone space that I was able

to run my fingertips over for the briefest glimpse of clarity

and I knew a full system reboot was the only solution

my nervous system was completely hijacked

and all I'd be able to do to reclaim it was sleep

afterward I decided to take my youngest to temple

and meet the white stone likeness of Kuan Yin

I told him a story about her and he liked the lotus flower

she happened to be standing on and we both noticed

someone had placed a red flower in between her toes

it was nice to share that with my son though I guess

I'd kind of fallen from any kind of tangible sacredness

it was more a practice for myself because I never wanted

to force any kind of worship for anything on my children

but it is nice to introduce them to something divine

once in awhile that's carved out of beauty

normally I'd wake up and maybe not leave

or go somewhere in the forest or a park where

the energy was just nature and calm and normal

but changing up my routine and getting out of

this environment really did help quite a bit

we walked around the artsy little town

and found a little park next to water fountains

and so many flocks of Canadian geese

I've been doing a lot of roaming and wandering lately

exploring and letting myself just fucking think openly

about whatever I saw or resonated with in observation

it reminds me how far I've come from where I was

last year when everything just felt like a slow decent

into an underworld I thought I'd already survived

I think I've done a pretty good job facing the evil eye

and left so many layers at each of the seven gates

touching that statue with my receiving hand

gave me a sense of peace that I didn't expect

like an embrace of a friend I've known for so long

I'm glad my impulses are not more about change

than avoiding or escaping the things that I feel

it's important to me to feel safe in my body

and it's a relatively new experience for me

but that sense of foundation is only strengthening

I trust myself again and even feel quite a bit of upset

when the perspective of another tries to shove itself

down my my own energy and say it's more real

I've been given opportunities and experiences

and I could have chosen to do the same things

but I mostly chose instead to grow and evolve

some of it has been fun but most of it hasn't

the universe works for you if you let it

life moves through you in beautiful ways

if you open up and embrace its uncertainty

it's all just a practice of acceptance and self unity

which sounds a lot easier than the process they say

to trust even though that particular platitude

is really fucking frustrating even if it's true

my peace was hard won today and that makes it

a little more valuable to me I think in this moment

my fear of everything is slowly fading

and divine timing is not quite the crptic and

trickster timeline that I once believed that it was

[legends-of-time]

Thorn Bush (Doctor Who Story)

Chapter 17: The Witchfinders Part One

Masterlist

1612 AD/CE

The Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Ryan Sinclair and Graham O'Brien step out of the TARDIS and soon walk into a village that is not what they have come for. The people who surround them are dressed in early 17th Century rustic clothing.

"I'm sure it's somewhere around here." The Doctor murmurs as she looks about her. She's distracted by a familiar presence in her mind, one she only felt with other Time Lords and a couple of others.

"Come on, Doc, admit it." Graham says. He looks around him in annoyance.

"I dunno what you mean." The Doctor insists though she knows what he means.

Graham looks at her in disbelief. "Well, look at it! This ain't the coronation of Elizabeth the First, is it?"

"It's like a street party." Ryan observes as he takes in the gathering crowd and multiple stands. "Ye olde hipster pop-up happening."

"The TARDIS is being a bit stubborn at exact readings." The Doctor defends as they walk into the crowd. A woman hands Graham a tankard, and nobody is taking a bit of notice of their strange clothing.

"So where are we?" Yaz asks. But the Doctor gets distracted and doesn't answer her.

"Apple bobbing!" She cries as she runs over to it. "I love apple bobbing." The Doctor sticks her head in the barrel of water to get an apple with her teeth.

"Is this Halloween?" Yaz asks the boy minding the stand.

The boy looks at her confused. "No. It's Sunday."

"Yeah, but what's the party for?"

"We do this every Sunday."

"Oh, Happy Sunday." The Doctor says through the apple in her mouth before taking a bite.

"Northern accent. We must be close to home." Graham murmurs to the group.

An older man with a white beard rings a handbell and everyone stops to listen. "Mistress Savage demands your presence. The ceremony will begin." He announces. The people quietly follow.

"Anybody else missing the party vibe all of a sudden?" Graham remarks.

"Come on." The Doctor says and follows the people with her companions following.

As the travellers join the tail end of the villagers, a mysterious masked figure dressed in high-quality black clothes watches them go.

"Where are they all going?" Yaz asks.

The Doctor turns to them, walking backwards. "Whatever this is, I need you all to remember the most important thing about dips into the past. Do not interfere with the fundamental fabric of history."

"Even if something's not right?"

"Yep. And judging by the vibe here, something is definitely not right."

The mysterious figure watches from behind a tree.

Yasmin goes up to a girl who is crying as she walks. "Are you okay? Can you tell us what's going on here?" The girl hurries away.

——

The villagers and the time travellers reach the river to see an old woman chained to the branching end, which forms a handy seat and two arms, of a long tree trunk, swung out over the water and balanced on a fulcrum. An elegantly dressed woman ascends a small pulpit flanked by men in leather armour.

Graham notices a hill in the distance and points to it. "Guys, that's Pendle Hill. We're in Lancashire."

The elegantly dressed woman speaks to the crowd assembling on the other bank of the river. "People of Bilehurst Cragg, we are forced to meet here once again. Satan stalks this land. We must continue to root him out, and do whatever it takes to save the soul of our village. Let us put the accused to the test."

"Granny...!" The crying girl from earlier cries out.

"Hush, Willa." The old woman calls back.

"It's a witch trial." The Doctor realises.

"Old Mother Twiston." The woman on the pulpit continues.

"Must be early 17th century." The Doctor murmurs.

"You stand accused of witchcraft, and shall be tried by my ducking stool, hewn from the mightiest tree on Pendle Hill. If you drown, you are innocent. If you survive, you are a witch, and shall be hanged."

"Duck the witch!" A villager cries.

"This is way too dark for me." Ryan says fearfully.

Yaz turns to the woman next to her. "We've got to do something, Doctor."

"Ah, the Doc said don't interfere." Graham argues. "You said don't interfere, right?" Yet the Doctor's face is conflicted.

"Don't cry, Willa. I will still be with you." Old Mother Twiston calls.

"I will still be with you." Willa repeats. "In the water..."

"In the fire."

"In the air."

"In the earth."

"Duck the witch!" The woman on the pulpit orders.

"Duck the witch! Duck the witch!"

The human time travellers look around at the crowd fearfully.

"Doctor." Yaz calls distressed.

There's a splash and Old Mother Twiston is under.

"Granny!" Willa cries fearfully.

The Doctor can't take it anymore and takes off her coat and hands it to Ryan. "Meet me on the other side!" She yells. The Doctor goes to dive into the river but before she can, a familiar light brown haired woman goes into the water and swims towards where Old Mother Twiston has been ducked.

"Is that—" Graham begins to say.

"Quick other side. She might need help." The Doctor yells. She begins running.

"Over the bridge! Run!" Yaz yells as the three companions follow.

"So much for not interfering." Ryan remarks.

"Not interfering Ryan. Helping." The Doctor retorts.

"Who dares interfere with this trial?" The woman on the pulpit growls. "Thirty five witches we have tried, and still Satan surrounds us. We shall not be stopped!"

Old Mother Twiston is hauled onto dry land by the woman who had dived in. The Doctor helps her and then takes in that it's Kathy.

"Kathy!" The Doctor exclaims.

Kathy smiles despite looking cold and wet. "Hi Doctor."

"Doctor, we're here." Yaz calls as she, Graham and Ryan arrive.

"Kathy..." Ryan murmurs in surprise.

"Hi, Ryan." Kathy greets.

"Katherine Davis, you have interfered again and you will be punished!" The woman on the pulpit cries angrily. "The trials are sacred. They are the will of God!"

"Not sorry as always Mistress Savage." Kathy remarks as Yaz crouches down to check on Old Mother Twiston.

"Is she alive?" Willa yells to them from across the water. Yaz checks for a pulse in her neck and shakes her head.

The Doctor looks at Willa. "I'm sorry."

"Now we have no way of knowing if Mother Twiston was a witch or not. Guards, whip these wanderers off this bank, and then seize Willa Twiston and Katherine Davis. We can take no chances." Mistress Savage orders as she steps off the pulpit.

The Doctor steps forward at the order and the guards point their weapons at her. "Leave them alone. I'd bet my life neither of these women are witches. But you, Mistress Savage are, without question, a murderer." She declares.

Mistress Savage looks aghast. "Who are you to address me this way?"

"I'll tell you who I am." The Doctor checks her trouser pockets then realises it's not there and turns to search her coat. Her strong attitude is gone and instead is showing her more clumsy and chaotic side. "Sorry, one sec." She holds the psychic paper up.

"Witchfinder General?" Mistress Savage reads, shocked.

"That's right. Witchfinder General, with my crack team, taking over this village." The Doctor declares. "Right, gang?" The three companions stand there confused and shocked.

Graham is the first to recover. "Yeah, cos you are in special measures."

"And Kathy is part of the team. She was sent ahead." Yaz quickly adds. She receives an appreciated smile from Kathy.

"Now do you recognise our authority?" The Doctor questions.

Mistress Savage drops into a very small curtsey. "I do beg your pardon, Mistress Witchfinder. Please, come to my home. We must talk in private." The guards sheathe their swords.

"If you swear not to hurt that girl, or anyone else." The Doctor demands.

"If that is your wish, you have the command."

"Everybody, go home. This trial is over." The Doctor calls to the crowd.

"I have to bury her." Willa says.

The masked figure has seen everything.

——

Kathy walks with the fam, as they will call themselves, towards Becka Savage's home.

"What are you doing here?" The Doctor asks.

"I arrived here a couple years ago when suddenly Becka Savage begins hunting down innocent women like no tomorrow. Had to stick around." Kathy remarks.

"Seems reasonable." Graham comments.

Kathy realises that while this group of companions have met her, she needs to check how much they know about her. "Nice to meet you guys by the way. Have I explained who I am yet?"

"Yeah, part Human, Time Lord and Apalapucian as well as being from a different dimension." Ryan speaks.

"The Doctor has also met ya at different points in your life and so will we." Yaz adds.

"Good."

"One of her grandparents came from my planet and was a school mate." The Doctor adds.

Graham is shocked. "How? She doesn't look a day older than you."

"They're different species to us Graham." Yaz points out. "I'm sure she works differently."

"She's right and right now I have haven't met you three before and I haven't seen this Doctor's face." Kathy says.

They begin walking up to the hall below Pendle Hill and the Doctor picks up her pace to catch up with Becka.

"Please forgive me, Mistress." Becka apologises. "If I'd known who you were, I'd have bowed to your authority immediately."

"So tell me. Who exactly are you, and what gives you authority here?" The Doctor questions.

"I am Becka Savage, landowner of Bilehurst Cragg. It belonged to my late husband, passed to me when he died." Becka explains. "I've tried to be a benevolent leader but it's very difficult in these times, especially for a woman."

"If you're the landowner, why are you walking? Where are the horses?" The Doctor asks.

"Horses are banned in Bilehurst. They are creatures of Satan. I had them all shot." Becka explains. The Doctor slows down, letting Becka get ahead and the rest of them catch up.

"Hey, Doc." Graham says. "I've done the old Pendle Witches Walking Trail. Nobody ever mentioned Bilehurst Cragg. Never heard of it. And she's killed thirty five people."

"Thirty six now." Ryan corrects.

"Yeah."

"Maybe she wipes this whole place off the map." Ryan suggests.

"We're going to find out what happened, and how we can make her stop." The Doctor declares. "And that hall looks like the best place to start."

"Not the only place." Yaz points out. "I want to find that girl who's just lost her gran."

Kathy nods. "We'll deal with Her Ladyship, if you go do some family liaison." She decides. "We'll meet you in a bit. Hopefully by then I'll be a bit dry."

——

Kathy warms herself by the fire. The Doctor does the same as she had gotten a bit damp herself when helping to pull out Willa's grandmother.

"I hope the fire has warmed you. Some wine?" Becka offers.

"No. So, your witch trials have become a weekly event, with a village celebration?" The Doctor asks to confirm she's right.

"Any moment where a witch is uncovered and Satan driven out has to be cause for a celebration. We will not stop until that work is done." Becka declares. Kathy sees Ryan's expression and realises this all must be strange and terrifying to someone not used to this. 

"You keep saying Satan. But how is Satan manifesting himself here?"

"Apparently Satan is blighting the crops. Bewitching animals. Plaguing people with fits, sickness and visions." Kathy explains disbelievingly.

"If that's all Satan, where do the witches come into it?" Ryan asks.

"They are in league with him." Becka explains as if it is obvious. "Kill the witches, defeat Satan. As King James has written in his new Bible, thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"In the Old Testament. There's a twist in the sequel. Love thy neighbour. Which is why we've come." The Doctor says. "To help you fix your problems without killing anyone. That's what King James would want." The door opens and a mysterious figure enters. Kathy groans internally, great the nitwit has arrived.

"What is the meaning of this?" Becka demands to know.

The man removes his cape and hat. "Madam, I have come to your rescue." The figure then removes his mask to reveal the king.

"King James! Your Majesty." Becka does a deep curtsy. The Scottish King, 6th of that name, although the First of England. Kathy curtsies herself while the Doctor does a quick bob, Graham stands from his seat on the window ledge and Ryan quickly bows.

"You may prostrate yourselves before me, God's chosen ruler and Satan's greatest foe come to vanquish the scourge of witchcraft across the land." King James crows. "Forgive the mask. I have enemies everywhere and have to travel incognito. Also, I rather like the drama." He does a little giggle and Becka joins him shakily. King James turns to the Doctor, Graham and Ryan. "What a peculiar ragbag of folks. And those garments. Are you actors?"

"We're your witchfinders, sire, as we explained to Mistress Savage." The Doctor holds out the psychic paper.

"Witchfinder's Assistant." King James reads. He turns to Graham. "So, you must be the Witchfinder General."

"What?" The Doctor whines. She stares at her psychic paper as if to find an explanation. Graham looks startled by the declaration. Kathy simply rolls her eyes. It seems to be a habit now.

"No, she said she was." Becka corrects.

King James laughs. "A woman could never be the General."

Kathy does a quick chuckle. "How silly of her. Eh, Doctor?" She nudges the Doctor to get her attention. She can't help but notice that she and the Doctor are for once similar in height.

The Doctor does a light laugh. "Yes. Must've got all confused." She grits her teeth through the next sentence. "Mustn't I, boss?"

Graham snaps to attention. "Er, yeah, that's me, sire. North West Division, promoted from Essex." He explains.

"And these are your underlings." King James gestures to Kathy, Ryan and the Doctor. They give Graham sharp looks.

"It's a very flat team structure. We all have our areas of expertise." Graham quickly corrects. Kathy gives Graham a pleased smile.

"Even the wee lassies?" Kathy is finding it quite funny being lumped in with the Doctor as the females. She's glad the Doctor is getting a feel of it though she recalls that other female version of the Doctor that is an iteration of the Doctor either from a distant past before the beginning of the series or from a future that hasn't occurred yet on this timeline. Honestly, Kathy is confused about all that.

"Even us." The Doctor says exasperated.

"Very handy undercover. Set a woman to catch a woman." Kathy confirms.

"A cunning ruse," King James compliments but Kathy knows it won't turn out that way, "using your innate aptitude for nosiness and gossip." And she's right. Graham grimaces while the Doctor looks outraged.

King James turns to Ryan. "And what is your field of expertise, my Nubian prince?" Kathy can't help but interrupt his tone and body language as flirtatious or a simpler fascination with his different skin colour. Kathy winces. It almost feels like Martha and Will all over again.

"Er..." Ryan stumbles.

"Torture?"

"Me? Er... paperwork mostly, Your Majesty." Ryan quickly says.

"Paper! How fascinating." King James exclaims. "We should talk." He then quickly turns to Becka. "But first, Madam, word has reached me of your battle against Satan, your crusade against witchcraft. But what I saw today convinced me you need assistance."

"That's what we've just been saying." The Doctor eagerly pipes up.

"Hold your tongue, lassie. Stick to snooping and leave the strategy to your King. This is no time for the weak." King James puts down. "Satan preys on the innocent, even while they sleep. Together, we must purify your land, starting with the grandchild of the witch you tried today. A fine plan, is it not?"

"A genius plan, Your Majesty. Together we shall save the souls of my people from Satan, even if it means killing them all." Becka happily agrees.

——

The Doctor, Kathy, Graham and Ryan head up the stairs and onto the corridor to, at Kathy's suggestion, investigate the rooms upstairs.

"Becka wasn't kidding. These are hard times for women. If we're not being drowned, we're being patronised to death." The Doctor grumbles.

"Now you know how I feel." Kathy remarks. She had always liked how the Doctor got a taste for what it's like.

"Any hints you got for me?" The Doctor asks.

"Why Becka is going on this crusade and why she killed Willa's grandmother isn't because of witchcraft. She has a secret. Something alien." Kathy says.

"Which is right up my alley." The Doctor replies. "Ah, Becka's bedroom. In here, quick."

They dart inside to find a nice four-poster with embroidered curtains.

"We are going to help them though, right, Doc? I mean, otherwise this place won't exist by the morning. Not now those two have hit it off. I don't know who's more barking." Graham probes.

Kathy opens a book and shows the Doctor that it's a copy of King James' Daemonologie by her bedside. The Doctor then spits a suspiciously large pile of tissues.

"A dozen hankies. That's a lot." The Doctor observes as she has a feel.

"Maybe she cries herself to sleep." Ryan suggests.

"Depends on whether she actually feels guilty about all the murder she's committing." Kathy replies.

"Don't worry, Graham." The Doctor says to her eldest companion. "We're staying here and sorting it, even if Kathy and I are just women." She sounds irritated by the end of that sentence.

"Well, to be fair to King James, you both are snooping." Graham points out. The Doctor and Kathy go into an alcove which has a curtain fastened back - Becka's 'toilette' - and sniff the contents of small bottles. They stick their heads out, offended by Graham's comment.

"We're investigating!" Kathy argues. "You two look as well. No use just standing there."

Graham rolls his eyes while Ryan just glances around and calls, "Hey, missed a bit." The Doctor and Kathy emerge to see Ryan pull a woodsman's axe out from under the bed. "Whoa. This Becka is seriously paranoid, man."

Yaz bursts in causing them all to jump and Ryan to nearly swing the axe.

"Here you are!" Yaz exclaims. "I've been creeping round this place looking for you. I found that girl Willa at her granny's grave doing some kind of ritual, and the next thing I know, this big kind of mud tendril thing attacked her."

"Mud tendril?" The Doctor asks.

"Right, yes. That's an issue." Kathy remarks.

"Coming up out of the ground. I had to smash it to pieces. Got it all over me." Yaz says.

"Part of the mystery with Becka?" The Doctor asks Kathy.

"Yep, along with the tissues and the bottle."

"And just the one mud tendril?" The Doctor asks Yaz. "How big? And when you say ritual, do you mean like a spell? Like she conjured it up?"

"She was scared of it. Whatever it was, it wasn't friendly." 

The Doctor scans the mud splatters on Yasmin's jeans. "Just seems to be like good, old-fashioned Lancashire mud."

"Doctor, it's important we go to see Willa. She can help us a lot with understanding what's going on here." Kathy says telepathically.

The Doctor nods. "Okay, here's the plan. Yaz, Kathy and me need to check out that mud and talk to Willa." She turns to Graham and Ryan. "You two, stick with Becka and King James. Keep them here. Make sure they don't kill anyone else."

"King James?" Yaz asks confused.

"It's a long story."

"We'll explain on the way." Kathy adds. The three women move to leave.

The Doctor turns to the other two. "Remember, no more witch hunts."

——

They reach the village to Willa leaving her cottage with some belongings.

"Willa?" Yaz calls. "My name's Yaz, this is the Doctor. Where are you going?"

"As far away from here as I can." Willa fearfully replies.

"We don't blame you. But before you do, can we talk to you first?" Kathy asks. Wills looks unsure. "Please, we've known each other a couple years now."

"We're not witchfinders. We just want to find out exactly what's going on here, and maybe we can fix things." The Doctor adds.

"Can you help us, Willa? Because we want to help you." Yaz persuades.

Willa agrees and brings them inside the cottage. There are bottles, dried herbs, a balance scale, a small cauldron and candles burning all over the place.

"Wow!" The Doctor exclaims as she bends down to analyse them. "Are these all yours?"

"They were my grandmother's. Katherine helped a few times. My grandmother made medicines to help people." Willa explains. "She wasn't a witch. Everyone knows that."

"So why did Becka Savage target her?" Yaz asks.

"Maybe she was ashamed of the woman who brought her up."

The Doctor spins around, away from the shelves she'd been looking at, in surprise. "Wait. You and Becka are family? No wonder Kathy said we should chat with ya."

"Cousins. Raised by their grandmother. Becka later went on to marry the land owner of Bilehurst Cragg, married up." Kathy informs them.

Willa nods. "Left us all behind. Still, I thought we'd be safe when the witch hunts started. Then it just got worse and worse. Everyone turning on each other. Granny said it was only a matter of time before they turned on us. I didn't believe her."

Willa makes some tea and hands it to them. "Here. Granny's special tea. It soothes the soul. Unless you think I'm a witch." The Doctor, Kathy and Yaz take the proffered pottery mugs. Kathy happily gulps at it having tried it before and enjoys it.

"Are you not having any?" The Doctor asks when she sees Willa doesn't hold a mug in her hands.

"I feel too sick." Willa replies.

"Do you mind if I check you over? Don't worry, I am a doctor." The Doctor pulls out her sonic and it whirrs. Kathy looks at it in interest as she hasn't seen this iteration of the sonic in person yet. She quietly herself has checked Willa and her grandmother multiple times with her own sonic without them knowing m. She doesn't know why, it's like something was telling her she needed to.

"What's that?"

"Er, specialist equipment." The Doctor runs her sonic over Willa.

"That movement in the mud. It was Satan, wasn't it?" Willa comments.

"I doubt it. Not a big believer in Satan." The Doctor says.

"My granny used to say there was enough wonder in nature without making things up."

"I like your granny." The Doctor looks at her sonic for the results. "Completely normal. No magic, and no signs of any sickness." Exactly the same as Kathy has been getting.

"You're wrong."

"I think I know what it is that's making you sick." Yaz realises. Kathy keeps quiet as she knows that not only is it important for the current challenge but also for Yaz. "I had it at my school, where I am from. When Izzy Flint turned the whole class against me. Every day I'd wake up, feeling this... dread. Fear."

"How did you get rid of it?"

"I didn't. I just took it, had the year from hell. When I say hell, I don't literally mean hell, I mean it was really awful. And I told myself when I got bigger, I'd stand up to the Izzy Flints of this world."

"I can't stand up to Becka. She'll have me tried for a witch. What am I meant to do?" Willa argues.

"Seems to me like you have two choices." The Doctor declares. "Run as far away from here as possible, or stick with us. We'll stand up to Becka Savage and we'll make this place safe again."

"How do we do that?"

"Ah! We!" The Doctor exclaims. "That's good, Willa. See? It feels better already. Now, first things first. We need to get a sample of that mud. Oh. Can I use this?" A small glass bottle with a cork stopper. "Want to come with us?"

"Not really."

——

They reach the grave and Kathy and the Doctor make quick work of scanning the mud.

"Just mud." Kathy grumbles. She'd hoped that if she had made a go of it, she would find something more quickly but apparently not.

"No sign of any tendency to tendril." The Doctor agrees. "Shouldn't be disappointed, but I am a bit." She keeps scanning the ground.

"What was that ritual you were doing before the tendril arrived?" Yaz asks Willa.

"A prayer, to help my grandmother rest in peace. I brought her body here, I dug that grave and placed her in it, but I didn't get to finish the prayer." Willa explains.

"We can finish it now, if you like." Yaz offers.

"Yes." Willa moves to do so as the Doctor scoops up some mud into her bottle.

The Doctor has a piece of mud in the bottle. "Right, little sample, what aren't you telling me?" The bit of mud starts leaping around in the bottle. "Whoa! I am no longer disappointed."

"See? The mud is alive." Yaz exclaims excitedly.

"It's not mud though." Kathy tells them.

"Looks pretty angry in there." Yaz observes.

"Yaz..." Willa calls. Kathy turns at the same time Yaz does and jumps at the sight of Willa's granny standing upright despite knowing it was coming.

"Obviously doesn't like being trapped, do you? What are you? Give us a clue." The Doctor continues unaware.

"What's happening?" Willa questions fearfully.

"I think this is some kind of alien matter, but I'm not sure if it's sentient." The Doctor replies.

"Doctor!" Kathy grabs the Time Lady and spins her around.

"Granny!" Willa whimpers.

"That is not your granny, Willa." Kathy says.

"Yes, it is." Willa insists.

"No, that's the... not mud. It's re-animating her body. Almost sentient." Kathy corrects. Can't exactly throw the whole Morax at the girl without more explanation. It also might anger the Morax and they'll enact their plan earlier than they are ready for.

"I am so sorry for this, Willa." The Doctor cautiously approaches not Granny. "Hi, Not Willa's Granny. I presume you're just using the body to give whatever you are form. Better than tendrils, right? But really not right. Not cool."

"Is that why it went after Willa?" Yaz asks.

"Of course. Not to kill her, but to fill her." The Doctor realises. "Oooh, check out my rhymes. Poetry under pressure." Not Granny gurgles and struggles forward frantically. "Oh, what you doing? You want this?" The Doctor holds up the bottle containing the not mud. "It's one of you, is it? Or part of you?" Not Granny makes a grab for the bottle but the Doctor jumps back. "No, no, no, no. Not until you tell us what's going on here." Not Granny's hands have mud spilling out of them and the Doctor grim at the sight. "Urgh, don't like the look of your hands. It's all bubbling away inside you, isn't it?" It reaches for the Doctor. "Oh no, you're not filling me. If you're that desperate for it, here, have it." She tosses the bottle to Not Granny, who gobbles it down. "Oh. Delightful. Down the hatch. I've got so many questions right now, like, did you drink that or absorb it? Are you all one big muddy mass, or separate entities, only taking the one body?"

"Doctor..." Yaz calls. It draws Kathy's attention away from the Doctor to see more mud figures have arrived. She'd forgotten about that. She really shouldn't get distracted by the brand new Doctor in front of her.

"Always good to get fast answers." The Doctor remarks nervously. "No, stay back, please. I've given you the blob. What more do you need?" There's no response. "So annoying when they are silent."

"Witchcraft!" King James calls as he arrives with Ryan, Graham, Becka and his guards.

"Should've known they still wouldn't be able to keep that lot at the house." Kathy grumbles.

"Hi, sire! I know it looks bad, but don't worry. I'm all over it." The Doctor tries to reassure a terrified looking King James.

"Willa Twiston and Katherine Davis were the witches all along. I knew it!" Becka cries accusingly.

"Look listen here!" Kathy exclaims in outrage.

"I'm not. This isn't me, Becka, I swear." Willa pleads for her cousin to listen.

"She's right. It's not her and it's not witchcraft. I'm working it out." The Doctor affirms. She and Kathy scan the mud women. They share a look.

"This is beyond you. Alfonso, shoot them." King James orders.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Alfonso brings out his gun and walks towards the mud women.

"Oh no Alfonso, don't do that!" Kathy rushes forward to try to stop him.

"In the air and in the earth..." Old Mother Twiston, Willa and Becka's granny, says. Her hands reach out towards Alfonso, who is then knocked down by an invisible force. He lies on the floor unmoving.

"Alfonso..." King James murmurs mournfully.

"Now you've made them angry. They're getting stronger. Everybody out of here. Get away from them now!" The Doctor declares.

"We must protect you, sire. Back through the forest." Becka cries.

Everyone flees into the forest.

——

A/N: The next part will be coming later this week.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[sunsetfell]

Ethan’s Fire

TW: suicide.

NSWF

If you had asked Ethan (known then as “Eth” or sometimes even “Baby Eth”) why he and Sparkle rode a freight train for miles away from their homes, he would have said: “Because I wanted to get away from the mess of my life. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts and not worry what people would say to me. I wanted to have a story that was just mine and Sparkle’s.”

It started late on a Sunday afternoon in September. Ethan trudged through math homework in his second-floor bedroom. His pencil dragged over the page as he rested his head in his arm and felt the warm air from the open window. Sounds of the usual afternoon chatter floated up from the street below. Somewhere in the house his uncle argued loudly with his mother.

Ethan’s phone buzzed with a text from his cousin Donte. A few minutes later he was sitting on the railing of Donte’s porch. Stan and Sparkle were on the steps. Sparkle had on a new pink shirt and her wavy hair looked as if she had just undone her braids.

As the night grew dark the four kids grew restless and left the porch to meander about the neighborhood. Passing the corner of an old warehouse now used as a junk yard, Sparkle hid in the shadow and slapped Ethan’s butt as he walked passed. The three boys laughed uncontrollably.

“Come on man, slap her back!” Donte yelled. Ethan pretended to chase Sparkle for a few yards while she stayed three steps ahead of him.

The four kids crossed under the railroad bridge over Turner Street and climbed the embankment to the edge of the reservoir, holding onto the chain link fence to stare at the placid water lit by fluorescent lamps.

After a few minutes of chatting the air grew chillier and Donte announced it was time to go home. As Donte and Stan walked down the hill to the sidewalk, Sparkle grabbed Ethan’s pant leg and held him back. Ethan dutifully stayed by her side as the others left.

Sparkle was two years older than Ethan, and her voice was deep yet airy—and slightly raspy though she did not smoke. She was a real woman who had dated Terrance at the end of the block for two years starting when she was 16 and he was 24, then broke it off without crying. Donte made fun of Sparkle’s weight when she wasn’t around and called Ethan a “chubby chaser,” but as Donte walked out of sight under the bridge, Ethan no longer had to worry what Donte would say.

Sparkle let go of Ethan’s pant leg and they traversed the embankment around the reservoir, holding onto the chain-link fence despite its cold touch. Carefully in the dark, they found the path to the railroad tracks among the bushes. Ethan delicately lifted a branch of a thorns off Sparkle’s pink shirt as they slipped through.

They had been here once before—together but not alone—with the older boys from the next street. They had walked along the graveled rail bed and thrown rocks at signal poles, but Ethan had grown scared of getting caught and made an excuse to leave.

Tonight was different. Tonight Sparkle had slapped his butt and held his pants. They walked along in the darkness, between messy backyards and porches of the houses that lined the railroad tracks, stumbling over gravel.

Sparkle pointed to a small dot in the sky ahead.

“Is that Venus?” she asked.

“It must be,” Ethan said. “It’s so bright.”

“Let’s follow it!”

In time the two kids came upon a stopped freight train. Its line of black tanker cars was nearly invisible in the night until they were close, gazing up at the dark metal structure that towered over them.

“Wow! What is that doing here?” Ethan asked.

“Wow, what’s a train doing on the train tracks!” Sparkle mocked him. Ethan pretended to chase her but tripped on a stray railroad tie and fell down. Sparkle helped him up.

They kept walking, now with the train to their left. What little light had reached them from the city was half blocked by its shadow. At times, Sparkle put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder to steady herself.

The line of tanker cars turned to double-stacked intermodals of the sort Ethan had seen loaded and unloaded by the river. After those were old-fashioned box cars intermixed with a type of metal frame that looked like it might hold lumber.

“My cousin Donte once rode one of these,” Ethan said, as a beat up, empty box car came into view, its door fixed in the open position.

“What! How far did he go?”

“Just a couple miles. There’s a yard in the north of the city where all the trains stop. So long as you go at night they won’t catch you.”

“That’s crazy,” Sparkle said. “I’d be scared to death. I’d fall off just from being scared.”

“I can’t imagine you scared.”

“Is there something wrong with your imagination?” Sparkle asked. “Or have you just not seen me in enough situations? ’Cause I’m scared of everything.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you prove it,” Ethan said.

They stopped walking and stared at the empty box car. This part of the city was quiet and a slight breeze was the only sound, save for the two kids breathing. Then faintly, up ahead, the sound of metal clanking against metal signaled that the train was about to move.

Ethan helped Sparkle into the car first, hoisting her legs in his arms, then climbed up himself. The box car was empty with a dusty corrugated metal floor. The two kids leaned against the side wall and stared out the open door as the city passed by.

The train did not stop at the yard. The outskirts of the city sped by, becoming first suburbs, then farmland.

“My phone’s got no signal,” Sparkle said as she put it back in her purse.

“Mine neither. We must be far away from everything.”

When hours later the train began to slow, they were in a forest.

“We gotta jump off here,” Ethan whispered.

“You idiot the train’s moving!” Sparkle yelled back.

“It might not stop till morning.”

Ethan smashed into the gravel and yelled in pain. Sparkle yelled back in fear. Ethan followed the open box car on foot.

“Come on, Sparkle!”

She crashed into his body and they both fell down. For a minute they lay there, Sparkle’s head resting on Ethan’s chest.

“We made it,” Ethan said. Sparkle let out a long sigh. The last of the black tanker cars rolled away.

The two kids trekked into the woods a few dozen yards. Out of sight from the tracks, close enough they might find their way back come morning, they chose a space among the trees as their campground.

“Let’s build a fire,” Ethan said.

“You got a lighter?”

“Nah, I’m gonna rub two sticks together.”

Ethan’s fire failed to start. They sat in front of his little pile of sticks anyway, the one piece of furniture in their forest home.

“The night doesn’t feel so cold anymore,” Sparkle said, resting her head on Ethan’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

They talked about home. About the people on their block. About Ethan’s last year in high school and Sparkle’s job managing records at a healthcare agency. About the coworker who stared at her chest and how she called him out and told him he was a creep but then touched herself in the bathroom thinking about him.

“Wait!” Sparkle interrupted. “Is that one still Venus?”

They lay back and looked up between the branches.

“I can see stars,” Ethan said. “We must be miles from the city.” Neither of them had ever seen so many. They stared at the sky for several minutes. The brightest light, Venus, had risen to nearly overhead.

Sparkle sat up suddenly.

“Let’s dance around the fire under the stars,” she said.

“We don’t have a fire.”

“We can still dance around it!”

They pranced around the pile of sticks, arms flailing in the darkness. A rite of their own creation, never to be repeated.

“You know,” Sparkle said, as they came to a stop, “I always wanted to dance naked around a fire.”

“We don’t have a fire.”

“I can still be naked.”

She held Ethan as if for a ballroom dance. Together they stepped back and forth in a pretend waltz. Then Sparkle took one hand and, still fake waltzing, unzipped her jeans.

Soon her pants were around her knees. She pushed down her panties. They kept waltzing.

When Sparkle’s panties were around her thighs, she gently placed a hand on Ethan’s chest and pushed him back. Their waltz stopped, and they stood facing each other.

“Look at me in the fire light,” Sparkle whispered.

“We don’t have a fire.”

“You can still look at my pussy.”

Her thighs were pressed together, slightly crossed, but she spread them apart. Ethan stared, trying to make out as best he could in the darkness.

“Why you look so shocked, Eth? You seen a girl’s pussy before?”

“You mean in real life?”

“Ain’t you got a sister? What about your girl cousins?”

“I don’t look at them naked!”

“Somehow I always been seeing my brothers’ dicks whether I wanted to or not.”

Sparkle kicked off her shoes, then sat down on the ground, still facing Ethan. She pulled off her pants and her underwear, then lay down and spread her legs.

“Take a good look, Baby Eth. This is all for you.” Ethan stood there, transfixed.

Sparkle sat up.

“I have to pee,” she said.

“Me too. And I’m thirsty.”

“Shh,” Sparkle said. She held up a finger for Ethan to be quiet while she listened.

“I don’t hear running water,” she concluded.

“Oh…”

“You go that way, I’ll go this way,” Sparkle said. “Maybe one of us will find water while we’re peeing. We'll meet back by the fire.”

Ethan began walking in the direction Sparkle had pointed while Sparkle put on her clothes. The trees here were enormous, but the ground among them was clear. This forest was the opposite of those little wooded patches around the city that were filled with bushes and thorns. Ethan could still see Venus overhead. He had no idea where they were.

Ethan and Sparkle got back to their campsite around the same time.

“Omg, you got the fire started!” Sparkle yelled as she ran up to Ethan.

“What?”

Ethan looked at their pile of sticks. Near the bottom, where Ethan had arranged a clump of dry leaves, a one or two flames poked out between the sticks. Ethan stared.

“Was it the heat from my body?” Sparkle teased, making an exaggerated wink so she could be seen in the darkness.

“I didn’t do it.”

“What?”

“I didn’t touch the fire. I got back when you did.”

Sparkle looked again at the pile of sticks. The flames were growing, and some of the smaller twigs had started to catch. For a few minutes neither of them spoke.

“How did that happen?” Sparkle asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Are we alone?”

“I don’t know.”

The light from the fire made the forest seem darker. Its faint crackling was deafening compared to the silence around it.

“I don’t like this.” Sparkle said. “I’m scared. I want to go home.”

Ethan reached out to hold her hand but she pulled it away. He didn’t try again. The two of them were still staring at the fire, now fully ablaze.

Ethan walked around their campsite peering into the trees, but there was no one there. He came back and sat down near Sparkle.

After a time, Sparkle sat down too, a few feet away from him. Neither said a word, but Sparkle’s breathing revealed she was crying. They stared at the fire a long time. Venus, still visible, descended to the West—toward home.

“Hey Eth?” Sparkle said.

“Hm?”

“You wanna try dancing again?”

They walked around the fire a few times, but their steps had no energy. They sat back down.

Ethan’s face was barely illuminated except for his eyes, in which Sparkle could see a reflection of the flames. Ethan spoke:

“I don’t want to go home, Sparkle.” He looked at the fire rather than at her as he said this.

“What?”

“There’s nothing for me there. I’ve never been free until we came here to these woods.”

“You don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”

“You’re right,” Ethan said. He stood up. “But I’m not going back.”

He marched away from the fire and toward the railroad tracks, kicking leaves and sticks out of his path.

“Wait!” Sparkle cried. She stood up and stumbled after him.

Sparkle reached the tracks before she caught up with Ethan. She didn’t see him at first and looked around calling his name. Then she saw him lying across the rails.

“Eth what the fuck are you doing??” Sparkle cried.

“I’m not going home,” Ethan repeated.

All the rest of the night they stayed there, with Ethan firmly planted on the tracks. At times, Sparkle pulled at him, but she couldn’t move him. Other times she kicked and hit him. Mostly she lay with her head on his chest weeping uncontrollably. But she never left his side.

The first train came around dawn. Neither Ethan nor Sparkle remembered what it looked or sounded like.

Years later, Sparkle rang Ethan’s doorbell on a Sunday afternoon in late September. Ethan still lived in the same house, but a ramp had been installed to accommodate his wheelchair. Ethan’s mother came to the door.

She smiled when she saw Sparkle. It had been nearly a year since she last yelled at Sparkle, screaming, crying and throwing things at the wall while accusing Sparkle of destroying her son’s life. All that was behind them now.

“Come in, Dear. Ethan’s in the back room.”

Sparkle delicately stepped off the ramp with her prosthetic foot and walked to Ethan’s room. He was lying in bed looking at his phone.

Sparkle closed the door behind her.

“You wanna come to my wedding, Baby Eth?” Sparkle and his mother were the only ones who still called him that.

“Hell yes!” Ethan said.

“It’s October 23 at New Life Church.”

“I’ll be there!” Ethan said.

Before Sparkle left she bent down and kissed Ethan gently on the cheek.

“Thank you, Baby Eth,” she said. “It’ll mean a lot to me for you to be there.”

[travellingarmy]

Ooff sorry this is my first time requesting and i checked the rules (i don't know if i miss something), can you write a continuation of the Yan!Lilia Vanrouge x fae reader? I mean i'm pretty curious of what happened after that. If you're not comfortable with the request you don't have to (^つωฅ^)

Stay safe and Healthy! Drink lots of water too!

Lilia Vanrouge x reader

Reader: Female pronounce/titles.

Warning(s): Yandere themes. Overuse of words. Abuse.

Word count: 6.4k

You don't need to read part 1 to understand. ^^

All rights reserved. Do not steal/copy and paste and upload it anywhere.

–

Note: Tldr: Reader doesn't get a happy ending. :]

–

Part 1: Sweet and Naive

║Lilia Vanrouge║ Sweet and Naive Pt 2. / Invisible Chains

Dark.. Cold.. Those two words repeated in echoes in your head for what you could bet was at least a hundred years.

You were as lifeless as a doll, not even a sound of rattle from your chains. Your body stilled from having given up trying to fight, which you bet was how he would like it. If someone were to see you, they would think you were a sculpture. But you were a beauty that even a sculpture can't hold a candle against.

Your eyes slowly blinked, revealing to no one of just how void it was of activity. Your eyes no longer shined like they once were and quite literally. You couldn't see a thing with having your eyesight been taken from you.

It was futile to hope to have your eyesight back. It was pointless to wish for anything in fact. He would never let you go and him taking your ability to walk or even use your hands was enough proof of that. He even went through such lengths to bind your ankles and wrists to the ground. Even if you could move, you wouldn't be able to go past the door before being yanked back by the chains imbued with his magic that would trigger if you try to escape.

Having known his strengths, you could only have an impossible, crazy dream of the young prince of the Valley of Thorns stumbling down towards this place for a visit and helping you out. You knew no one with strengths that could outdo him. Not even the brave soldier in that storybook you once loved to read as a child who slayed the scariest dragon could hope to beat him. He was second only to the monarchy's strength so in a way, he held supreme over even the strong, mighty creatures of faes.

"Little fairy, are you ready to talk to me now?" A sickening voice you were O' so familiar by now that you've grown to loath speaks just behind you, making the owner of the voice's presence known to you. You would have known that someone was there if you were still considered a fae. Without your distinguishable features of strong magic and being reduced to nothing but a doll, you were all the more average than a human who lacked awareness of magic aura around them.

You didn't answer. If you were to speak now, you would only give him hope of something– anything and you didn't want that. You don't want to see him become so giddy and happy that you were finally falling prey for his traps.

"[Name]." The room's temperature quickly drops by a few degrees thanks to him. His voice was quite stern when he calls your name. Him dropping your silly nickname meant he was about to lose it. Every visit he makes, it seemed that he was slowly losing his patience and sanity with you. "This has gone for far too long."

You can tell that he was seething with anger at your silence. Good, you thought. You hoped that maybe he'd just end your miserable life right then and there, unable to control himself any longer.

The steps of heavy shoes makes sounds as he draws closer to your form. Once you were at arm's reach, he harshly turns your face towards him. His face contorted– but you couldn't see that– and angrily said through gritted teeth, "Stop playing with me, little fairy. What is it that you want?"

What do you want? If he asked you that hundreds of years ago, you would have answered what was in your heart– to set you free. You wanted nothing more than to travel Twisted Wonderland. Now, you couldn't care less. If you answered the same thing as back then, you were sure that he'd ignore it. And even if he granted your wish now, there wasn't any guarantee that he'd let you out for long. He'll always know where you are and will bring you back to your cage when he thinks that you've had enough of exploration.

When you refused to talk to him he roughly let's go of you and stood up. He stare down at your form, seeming distant as he contemplates on something. Having released a deep sigh, he leaves you alone once more.

–

You thought it would be a long while until you would hear the door open and close again, but you were apparently wrong. You mentally sighed at the disturbance of your peace, and just when you were having a conversation with yourself in your head.

When the door shut with a loud thud, you were expecting him to speak. It's just been an hour, you think, since he left so you did wonder what he wanted now. Surely he knows by now that you weren't going to give him any ounce of your limitless time.

"Um, lady..?" Your stoned facial expressions changed when your eyebrows raised. Your ears picked up a voice that was not familiar at all to you. Who was here? You were sure that your capturer locked you somewhere that no one would be able to reach you or to know of your existence. So, who was this person that managed to pass by the great fae and make it to where you were, several feet high above in some tower?

Seeing your head lift up, you hear an audible gasp. "Oh! You're real!?" The soft voice of the person was something refreshing to you as you've never heard of any other voice other than your own and your capturer. But still, you noticed that the voice did not belong to an adult but rather, a male child. What was a child doing all the way here?

You hear light steps make their way around to properly face you. “What are you doing here, Miss?” You weren’t sure where he was in front of you nor how tall he was, so you looked up a bit and hoped that he was there and not an inch off. Your silence made the kid raise a brow. “Um, do you not talk, Miss? Or is it that you can’t talk?”

He squatted down to be on the same eye level as you and rested his face on his knees. You heard him ruffling around so you guided your head to where you assumed he was now at. “Hm, so you can’t talk? That’s a problem then.. Maybe I can get you paper and something to write with!” Their voice was so sweet like a melody and sounded as if it did not belong to a fae of the Valley of Thorns. It sounded so carefree. Befitting of a child of innocence.

Ah. Innocence. Something that you once were. You missed the days where you used to walk around the village and the surrounding forest, oblivious of the crueler side of the world. You were innocent– free of sins and a child of purity who was just a naive– “little fairy”. His voice whispered in your ears and you were disgusted by it.

“There’s no need..” You finally spoke. “You’ll just waste your time.” The softness of your voice caught you off guard, and also the child. You always sounded either harsh or devoid of life.

"Ah, that's good!" By the tone of his voice, you could tell he was smiling and it made you feel like smiling, but your facial features couldn't display it. You once remembered how smiling could affect others and make them smile but you couldn't. "So, why are you here, miss?" He asks again.

You wished you could tell him, but he was a child and something a child has that could easily be taken away was their purity and innocence and once that's taken, it'll never be returned. But one thing that comes with innocence is curiosity and curiousity is such a dangerous feat to have. You should know it as yours was too long, long ago due to being so curious.

And you worried for the child's safety should you tell. He doesn't want anyone to know.

Seeing your head drop to stare at your lap, the little boy could tell that something saddened you. In fact, when he first saw you, he noticed how your eyes didn't reflect the light from the sun that stared down at you. And though you did not know it, the sun was caressing your form that at first, the child thought you were an angel. However, something didn't sit right with him and concluded that you were a shell of what once was an angel.

"It's okay to not tell me, miss!" he says. "My father taught me not to push people to talk about things they don't wanna talk about!" You were relieved, not that you were going to cave in and tell him anyway.

"Hm? Oh, it's almost time for dinner.. Father is going to start looking for me if I don't show up.." he said after minutes of silence and him staring at you curiously. "But, um.. Will you be okay here?"

Now standing up, he looks down at you who stared at the ground with hands on your lap. "I'll be okay." With that, you hear the light steps of the child make its way to the door. He stopped and turned his head to look back at you with a hand resting on the door. He has questions he has yet to ask with a pitiful look but he knew that his father would worry if he disappears for too long.. Maybe tomorrow he'll sneak back here.

And that's what he did.

–

You never got to ask the boy how he got in but you were sure he'd never come back. With that in mind, you just assumed he was a child of another high-status fae who came for a visit. You don't know of your location, but you assumed somewhere beneath the ground. It was always cold in the room.. Or was it just you?

You were left to your thoughts once more before you felt yourself dozing off. The next thing you know, you hear the shy clicking of the door opening. Not thinking more about it, you continued to close your eyes. You didn't want to talk to him.

"Lady? Are you still asleep?" Hearing the soft, welcoming voice of the same boy from yesterday, your eyes snapped open and your head shot up. "Oh, good! You're awake." You hear him draw close to you before sitting himself down in front of you. "How was your sleep?"

Ah. Did you sleep? You were sure that he was gone for just a few moments. Look at you, not even being able to tell the difference between hours and seconds.

"It was.. Okay," you answered, staring straight ahead with a blank look on your face. "That's good to hear! Father always says that sleep helps you grow tall. But I always fall asleep at random times that I'm not sure if it's a good thing anymore."

You cracked a small smile without noticing it yourself. Not to worry though, your little companion did. "Oh! You smiled!" he pointed out happily. "You didn't smile at all yesterday– I thought you couldn't smile at all." His comment made you quickly drop your smile. You weren’t offended by the comment, but you rather not wish to be able to smile anymore.

"Aw.." You can tell that he was now pouting but you didn't care. "You should smile more, miss! It looks better on you." The comment made you feel bashful, though you remained stone-faced. It has been a long time since someone has made an earnest compliment. You’ve only had few the moment you stepped outside of the protection of your little village– Ah, but now that you think about it, you did catch glances of him looking at the person who had given you words of praise darkly.

Just how long ago did his possessiveness sprout? You were too naive at that time and you curse yourself for it. If you knew about his dark obsession with you, you would have fled, using the darkness of the night as your cloak.

“Hellooo? Miss, are you listening?” The loud voice of the child brought you back and you looked up from your lap to where his voice was. “Oh! I’ve been calling you and even waving my hand in front of your face, but you didn’t react at all.”

“I’m sorry. I was just recalling some things,” you said. And it’s not like you would have been brought back by the action of his hands. “What was it that you were talking about?”

“Mm.. I was wondering what you do here. You look kind of lonely, miss,” he said. “And what’s with these things?” You didn’t see what he was pointing at, but you were sure that it was the chains that bound you to the room.

“These..” Should you tell him? Should you not? How else are you going to explain this? Seeing your reluctance to speak, he tells you yet again to not worry about it and to just ignore his questions. “Sorry for asking a lot of questions.. Father doesn’t tell me much of anything except things related to the Valley of Thorns so I got curious when I saw you.”

“You look like a fae but to me, you look like an angel,” he said, laughing cheekily at his own words. “You don’t look like the faes from the Valley though so is there another kind of faes out there?” This child asks too many questions, one after another, you concluded. He reminds you of the you from back then– ever the curious one. You bit the insides of your cheek, feeling a bit sour of the current situation. It feels as if you’re now taking in the perspective of your capturer and looking at yourself through another’s eyes. But you knew better and won’t allow yourself to spiral into madness because of him.

“Yes. There are other faes out there,” you answered. “I am not a fae of the Valley.” At your confession, the boy lit up. “Really? Since you were from the outside, can you tell me what it was like?” You felt him draw closer to you with enthusiasm. “Father said that I’ll be able to go out one day, but I still have to become strong before that happens.”

“I.. Didn’t do much adventuring,” you confessed, a hint of sadness hung on each word. There was silence after that with a heavy atmosphere bringing burden to both of you. The child opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a single word, his ears perked up to sounds outside the door. “Shoot! It’s time for my sword training! Father is going to find out I was here.. ” You hear him scramble up to his feet. “Oh! But before I go, I brought you some snacks!” You hear the sliding of a plate that stopped in front of you. “I don’t know if you ate so I got you something! It’s not healthy but it’s all I can carry without being spotted..”

After saying a quick goodbye, you hear him run out the door. You had no need for food and opted that starving your way to freedom was the only option at leaving this hell of a place.. Not that you could even do that since he would find a way. But you appreciated the gesture of kindness. It..

Truly, it has been a long time since you’ve felt kindness from another. You wished you were able to see the young child with your own eyes, but that only meant submitting yourself.

The next time the boy showed up was 2 days after the last parting, though you did not know it since time for you was lost. Since then, he would find a way to sneak to your chambers day after day.

Until one day, you were beginning to question this kid, feeling a bit guarded despite his open nature. You liked how the boy was like a breath of fresh air, but something did not sit right with him finding his way back to you day after day. “How did you manage to get back here?” you asked with a stern tone of voice one day. You felt much more comfortable to ask him a question of your own. At first, you had your reservations about him, thinking that he must have been sent by him to manipulate you so you said little or nothing at all.

"Ah.. Don't tell father this.. He told me not to go here but I got curious," he answered honestly. Right. He’s always talking about his father but who is his father and why is he here? Where exactly were you locked up that this child could easily sneak in? “He kept saying that this part of the manor wasn’t where I should be playing, but I always see him go here with things sometimes.”

Your head shot up to stare straight at the area in front of you, where you assumed the boy to be. His father.. He goes here often? Then that could only mean– “You know.. I started wondering..” The boy started to speak, his cheerful tone gone, and pauses.

“You can’t see, can you, lady?” Your head snaps towards your left, his voice now in that direction and closer to you. Since when– “Your eyes.. They don’t reflect anything at all.. And they always seem to miss me.” He crouches down by your side. “I don’t know a lot and only what father tells me, but I can tell that you’re sad, lady.”

“I, if that’s the case.. Then maybe my father can help–”

Your heart quickens. “W, who..” You gulp back a lumped in your throat. “Who is your father?” you ask, cutting him off and then silently pray that that one cursed name doesn’t befall upon your ears.

What came afterwards made your eyes widened and your face grew pale. You felt lightheaded as the truth came crashing down on you. “Lilia! Lilia Vanrouge.”

“Silver.”

Your heart stops and drops to the pit of your stomach at that all too familiar, sickening voice. “Father!” The boy with a name that you now know as Silver got up to his feet. Crimson eyes looked at his son for a good few seconds and at you who refused to look at him and have your back do the job.

Lilia’s eyes narrow at the sight and returns to look at his son. A new found anger towards his son that he didn’t think he was capable of. “Silver, I thought I told you many times not to step foot in this area of the house.” He didn’t raise his voice but was quite stern. “I’m sorry, Father.. I was just–”

“Curious?” Lilia finishes and crosses his arms. Silver’s head droops down and fiddles with his fingers. “I’m sorry..” The room was still. You couldn’t see what was happening and it only made you worry for the boy. That was until you heard Lilia let out a heavy sigh.

He uncrosses his arms and softens his expression. “Though I won’t let this matter slide, I won’t make you do harder training to make up for it,” he said which made his son raise his head in hope. “Now, go back to the main part of the house.”

“You’re not coming back with me?” he asks. “No. I will join you shortly after.” His eyes wander from Silver to you. Silver notices it and glances back to where you sat. “Oh! Right, Father..” He looks at Lilia with a determined look in his eyes. “This pretty lady wants to be set free but she can’t because of the chains!” he started. “Can you please help her? She looks a bit sad.”

Lilia blinks owlishly at his son’s request but said, “I will have a talk with her first.” You didn’t want to talk to him and cursed him in your head. “Now, go back to the main area.” At his words, Silver leaves the room after one more look at you.

Both of you said nothing as you listened to the boy’s footsteps slowly fade down the hall and waited in silence a bit more.

“Now, little fairy..” You shuddered, disgusted by his voice and him in general. “Care to tell me exactly how long you’ve been talking with sweet, little Silver?” He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You ignored him like you usually do.

“Still not talking, are we?” You hear him sigh. “Well, no matter.. I can deduce it to be at least a week since Silver has been sneaking around the place.” A week? To you, those peaceful days felt too short but in truth, a week has gone by?

“Hmm~ It’s just been a week but seeing as how Silver wants to set you free, I can surmise that he must be really fond of you,” he said. “Kufufu, just as I thought he would be.”

You clenched your jaw. “Since you now have a wife and family, are you finally going to set me free?” you ask coldly but deep down, there was a sudden spark of hope. Now that he has a sweet child, why would he need you there? “Hm~? A wife? I have no need for one when I have you, kufufu.” He answers. “You know, Silver isn’t really my biological son.”

He isn’t? As if reading your mind, Lilia chuckles. “Did you really think that I would have any other lover, little fairy?” he asks, amused. “Fret not. I am a devoted lover to his one and only wife.” “Shut it. I’m not your wife,” you barked back through gritted teeth, feeling the small hope in you fade away as soon as it came. “Oh? I suppose you are right about that.. Well, that is not something that would become an obstacle. I just need to marry you, yes?”

You bit your tongue, not wanting to talk to him anymore. Lilia sighs once more and zips his mouth– only temporarily though. Sometimes you were like a spoiled brat, Lilia concludes, staring at your back, covered by a single, thin white dress. You look exactly like how he had remembered you in his memory. An angel, he thought. Beings of purity just like how you are and will be like for as long as he lives. He will never let you step outside to the tainted world of Twisted Wonderland.

“Silver..” He begins, changing topics. “He’s a curious, adventurous one.. Doesn’t that remind you of yourself back then, little fairy?” Lilia smiles fondly, recalling memories of long-past history while you bit the inside of your cheeks harder. You hate how he always brings up history, especially about your relationship. He talks as if you two were ever lovers and that you were at fault for the sudden tragedy of an ending of the relationship. “You were much so shy and easy to fluster. Kufufu. Ah, the cute expressions you’d make.”

“Shut it,” you snapped. You hated the ‘you’ from back then and cursed her. You two weren’t the same yet he keeps deluding himself that you two were. “Getting angry now, are we? It’s certainly been a while since I’ve last witnessed such a sight for myself.”

“Anyway, back to the topic.. Silver wishes to release you from your chains,” he said. “I can’t say no to my little boy.. After all, he’s been talking about wanting a mother. He did mention a certain ‘angel’ whom he wishes to be his mother.. I suppose that would be you, yes?”

You said nothing. As much as you have come to adore that boy, no way would you sign yourself up to yet another enslavement.

You hear his shoes clicking against the floor until he stops right in front of you. “Now, I suppose that since Silver has already seen you, it would be rude to not give you two a proper introduction,” you hear him say and before you knew it, you were forced to close your eyes shut to see darkness once more due to the sudden light blinding you, even using your hands to shield your eyes.. Wait–

Squinting your eyes open, you could see the sun’s light passing through the window. You sat there, amazed as you stared at the long-missed sunlight in front of you. You looked down at your hands. They were trembling and felt weird to you but nevertheless, you could move them. “Kufufu. O’ don’t you look so cute, little fairy.” You turn your head to the side and see the face that was etched into your memories for all of eternity.

His long, black hair with pink streaks that made him stand out was the same length as you remembered. “Oh? Miss seeing my face, did you?” You became hostile once again at his comment but he only laughed. “Now, up you go.” He unlocks your chains with magic and pulls you up using his indispensable strength.

Caught off guard, your legs wobbled. “Hm? Oh, I’ve forgotten that your body forgot how to work itself..” he comments, blinking once before a smirk adorns his lips as a shadow cast over his face. “No matter.” He puts one arm behind your legs and the other resting on your back and lifts you up with ease.

“Kufufu, aren’t you adorable,” he comments, which made you knit your brows in anger. You attempted to hit him with your strength, but your arms were too flimsy after just gaining the ability to move. He chuckles at your weak punch at his chest. “Put me down. I rather go back to being blind than to see your despicable face.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I can’t, sweetheart.” He chuckles, clearly amused. Crimson orbs reflected you and he couldn’t help but grin cheekily. Ah, you were always a sight to see. It always hurt him how you wouldn’t talk to him and opted to have your back facing him at all times. You, however, weren’t the slightest bit happy and didn’t consider this act as something teasing that you see your fellow faes back home do when they were a bit younger when they were infatuated with another.

Little Silver, just as told, got comfortable in the living room and waited patiently as Lilia emerged from the dark hallways that lead to your prison with you in hand. You realized that your prison wasn’t actually a cell situated hundreds of feet down the basement and was, in fact, just a room in an old part of the manor that wasn’t used. It wasn’t all that complicated to get there at all and easily accessible should Lilia not have warned Silver to wander in that restricted area.

“Silver.” At the call of his name, Silver’s ears picked up and he turned his head. When his eyes reached yours, it immediately brightened with a cute, big smile on his face. Lilia sees this and smiles as he sat you down on a cushioned chair to the left of the sofa.

“I was hoping that I could give the surprise, but it seems as if you’ve already met her already.” “Silver, come and greet your mother.” You cringed at the title and the way he spoke but before you could do so much as to protest, Silver hopped off of the sofa and ran towards you.

“Wait, Miss, are you really my mom?” He rests his hands on your white dress that Lilia had you wore, still very much clean due to him changing you regularly.

You didn’t say anything. You don’t want to play pretend with your capturer but you didn’t want to hurt the boy. Lilia knows what you were up to but said nothing. He knows his son very much to fall for it anyway. Children.. Such a wonderful creation in this twisted world, he thought to himself.

When you looked at Silver the first thing you noticed was his unnatural hair colour and his bright, pale-coloured eyes. Right beside that, your eyes widened at the sight of his ears.. He wasn’t– “Fufu, I forgot to mention, sweet little Silver here is, in fact, not a fae at all,” Lilia leans in close to your ears to whisper. “Isn’t he just adorable?” He gave a breathy chuckle before pulling back.

“Alright, Silver, your mother is quite exhausted so for now, why don’t you go outside to practice your sword training? Malleus will be here to visit soon so why don’t you show him what you have?” Lilia shoos him away with an excuse just to talk to you one-on-one. He’s sure you have things to say.

He agrees and left the room just as told and when he was gone, you threw a spiteful look at him. “Don’t tell me you kidnapped him?” You ask with venom in each word. Lilia’s face shows shock but quickly returns to his playful look. “Fufufu, do I look like the type to you, my dear?” He said as he sat down on the sofa. ‘In fact, you are one’ you cursed him.

You said nothing more to the man, though it was a challenging thing to completely avoid him later on due to him living under the same roof as you. But that was all to change, you thought. Now that you were unchained to a room by magical chains, you had an opportunity.. You just had to wait. Sure, with Lilia’s strength and power, he can cast a spell on the entire manor itself and bind you to it, but even you knew that even the most powerful of the Great Sevens couldn’t keep up with their own spell for long. Soon enough, they will grow weary.

If he were to do that, you just had to wait until he grew too weak. You didn’t think he would put you back in that room and it was thanks to Silver. You had to let Lilia’s guard down for an opportunity to come. You see, he’s always had his eyes on you whenever you strayed away from either him or Silver. Though you don’t see him when you went on your ‘little walk’ around the place to familiarize the layout, you always felt eyes on you.. Though your escape plan wasn't through some secret passage you'll find. There's no way you can outsmart him this way; you'd just be doing what he thinks you'd do.

"Miss– Um, I mean, mother, can we play together today?" Silver asks with an expectant look in his eyes. "I.." You weren't yet used to hearing your voice, let alone comfortable to use them but what were you supposed to do?

"I'm sorry, I can't right now.." Yes, now isn't the time. After waiting and planning, Lilia has announced that he'd be going to the castle to run some errands for the future king of the Valley of Thorns.

You immediately stood up from your seat and walked past the young boy. You were sure Lilia had put some sort of lock on the escape routes you inspected months prior just as you had predicted when he said that Silver couldn't play outside today. All those exits were locked so neither you nor Silver could escape.. All except the most noticeable exit; the main door.

“Mother?” You hear Silver’s confused voice. You really did enjoy spending time with him but he was not your son and this was not your home.

Making a B-line for the door, your heart thumped loudly that you believed that if people were around you, they would most definitely hear. The exit was right there. You were so close. You could almost taste the missing freedom you hopelessly wished for for the past hundred or so years.

“Where are you going?” The tug of your dress made you halt just a few metres away from the door. You looked down to see Silver, holding you tight with his small hands. “Mother, father said that you’re still sick and that it’s too dangerous for you to go outside.”

“We can play together in the living room while we wait for father!” He smiles, though his eyes that reflected hurt betrayed him. Father this. Father that. Why does he always call him that? He is a good-for-nothing man who played himself in a delusion of pretend-family. And you? When did you sign up to play the role of mother in this entire clownery of an act?

“Let go,” you ordered, voice lowering down a few octaves. “But father said that I shouldn’t–” “I said, let me go!” You roughly tug back on your clothes and in the process, push Silver down. At that moment, you were filled with regret and thought to help him up and apologize but– “Mother, d-did I do something wrong?” Tears started to form in his eyes.

Your jaws clenched. No. No, you didn’t, you wanted to say. You looked at the door behind– the door that would lead to freedom– and to Silver before choosing not to stay any longer. If he could survive in this twisted place, you were sure he himself was no good either.

“Mother! Mother!”

When you opened the door, your heart immediately sank down to your stomach. “Father?” Silver says, standing up and wiping his face. “I thought you were going to the castle.”

Lilia takes one look at Silver, his eyes narrowed at the poor sight before narrowingly further at you with the most disappointed and angry look you’ve ever seen him. At the sound of a snap that echoed around the area, you suddenly felt gravity pushing you down to your knees. You groaned in pain as you felt it crushing you and Silver was quick to run to your side. “Mother? W, what’s wrong? Father, what’s happening?” He looks at Lilia, pleading eyes begging for an answer. Lilia stayed silent, a deep frown adorning his pale face. You struggled to look up but when you did, under the moon that greeted a fae of the Valley’s day and bid them a goodnight, crimson eyes glowed far brighter than you. A contrast to the ever-dark kingdom.

“Father, please!” Lilia ceased his actions and the bright glow of red slowly faded away. You gasped for air. You for sure thought you would die right then and there when you felt a bone in your ribcage break.

“Silver, take this gem and go to Prince Malleus.” He hands Silver a green gem whose glow keeps fading in and out in the same rhythm of a heartbeat. “A teleportation gem?” “Yes. Go play with Prince Malleus and Sebek at the castle. Your mother is very ill right now and I don’t want you sick.”

Silver looks at you before nodding in agreement. “I’ll see you soon, mother.” And at the sight of faint green smoke, Silver vanishes on the spot. “What a wasted stone, really,” Lilia comments cooly and sighs but when he looks down at you, you knew you were going to have it worse now that Silver isn’t around to be a witness to his so-called father’s crimes. “Now..”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back inside. You shout in pain and tried to have you be released but his strength was no match for a weak fae who’s been protected all her life in a secluded village.

When he got to your shared room– well, supposed shared room– he releases you once locking the door. “I really don’t know what to do with you, [Name].” “Is that so? Good. Then you should hurry up and release m–” A harsh pain on your right cheek suddenly dulled your mind.

You touched your cheek and looked at Lilia. He had kicked you. His eyes were unreadable when he crouched down to your eye level and harshly grabbed your face. “I really do love you, [Name], but sometimes you are too much of a brat,” he said. “I didn’t want to hurt you but bratty girls like you need to be taught a lesson. Do you understand?”

“You really hurt Silver there.. You don’t think that I’m stupid enough to leave you unsupervised, do you?” With his free hand he beckoned over a small, dark orb with an eye from behind. “I thought I could trust you.. But apparently not.”

“Heh. If you trusted me, you wouldn’t leave that thing hiding close to me,” you said but cursed yourself about not knowing he had a spy on you at all times.

“How funny you are, my dear. I knew quite well of what you were planning to do.” He presses his forehead against yours. “I know you, after all.”

You wanted to bite back and attack him but with nothing– not even your natural magic– you were as hopeless as a human. “So you wanted to escape, huh? Might I need to remind you of how dangerous it is out there?” You called bull on his words. The only monster around here was him.

“My dear, even if you were to escape, where are you going to go? At least a hundred years have already gone by for us.. Do you really think that your home is still intact today?” Your brows furrowed. What was his game here?

With a wickedly wide smile, he tells you, “Your village? All your family, friends.. Anyone from that village? You’ve already seen their end many, many years ago. He had a look of craze in his eyes. You felt another part of you die. What? When? “Do you remember our little game of tag, my dear? The one with a burnt down village as our playground?” That’s when it clicked. “Fufu.. So, even if you were to escape, where would you go? A magicless fae can’t face those monsters out there all alone.”

Your eyes started to tear up and Lilia did nothing to wipe them away. “You’re a liar!” you shouted. “Me? A liar? Fufu, now don’t joke around like that. You know I’m not one to lie– even as a joke. You should know that as we’ve spent so many years together.”

“And remember this.. No matter where you go, I will always find you.”

~♡~

[peskygirl13]

MK SO-

I just got the Pokémon SWSH DLCs and I was wondering what it would be like for some legendary Pokémon to come to twst and cause some trouble(Legendarys I’d like to do ( you c an pick just one: Kyogre, Giratina, or Groudon)

If you can i want it to be just Diasomina!

This turned out longer than I expected and I got so mad with myself because I was almost done with writing this and I accidently deleted all my new work, so I had to start over from my last save point which is one of the reasons it took so long to post.

I’ve been binge playing the old Sinnoh games and rewatching the anime, so this was fun to write (despite me deleting my work). 

This will have references to the Pokémon Platinum game, so spoilers if you haven’t played the game and plan to. 

Hope you enjoy!

Malleus's favorite time of the day was night time. Night time was the best!

The world was at peace, it was quiet, everything was asleep, save for a few nocturnal creatures much like himself, he could hide from SIlver and Sebek and have some time to himself, and there were no students or humans who would see him and run away in terror.

But his favorite thing about night time was probably when he got to visit his favorite human, (Y/n).

Their situation was a bit odd, having appeared out of nowhere from a world full of creatures called Pokémon, but Malleus didn't care. They weren't afraid of him. After spending a lifetime of having people fear him due to his name, it was a nice change.

Malleus arrived at the Ramshackle dorm to find you already sitting outside, cleaning your Empoleon's feathers.

"Greetings, Child of Man." He greeted, happily walking up to you.

"Hey, Tsunotaro." You smiled, putting down Empoleon's brush to wave at him.

That was another thing Malleus adored about you. Even after finding out who he was, you still didn't fear him and continued calling him by that amusing nickname you gave him.

You both entered the dorm, along with Empoleon, and he was instantly greeted with the rest of your strange creatures. Luxray, Togekiss, Glaceon, Garchomp, and Lucario.

You headed over to the kitchen to make some tea while he got comfortable on the couch. Once he was seated, Garchomp laid its head on Malleus's lap, implying that it wanted scratches.

By the time you had returned with two mugs of steaming tea, all the other Pokémon had already gotten comfortable and most had fallen asleep.

You handed Malleus his mug before sitting down in your chair. Glaceon hopped up and curled up in your lap before falling back asleep.

After you both got comfortable, you began regaling Malleus with stories of your world.

Malleus loved hearing your stories.

From your gym battle challenges to your contests. Catching all your Pokémon and even receiving an egg from a woman named Cynthia that hatched into a Togepi that which layer evolved into your beloved Togekiss.

Malleus has never left the Valley of Thorns, except for school, so he enjoyed hearing about your travels. Your freedom to journey and see so many different places, never being tied down, he envied it.

“May I see your badges and ribbons again?” He asked.

“Sure.” You agreed, getting up to grab them.

At the movement, Glaceon, rather huffily, got up from your lap and moved to Malleus, curling up on his lap instead. He instantly started stroking her with one hand while the other continued scratching Garchomp. He only stopped when you handed him your badge and ribbon case.

He immediately opened them both and admired your impressive 7 badges and 5 sparkling ribbons. 

You had told him that even though you had collected the required number of ribbons, you were transported to Twisted Wonderland before you could compete in the Grand Festival. You also hadn’t yet had the chance to earn your 8th and final gym badge, which allowed you to challenge the Elite Four and the Sinnoh Champion. 

“They are very impressive, Child of Man.” Malleus complemented.

Even though there wasn’t a gym challenge or contests in Twisted Wonderland, Malleus could tell how much value each badge and ribbon you earned had.

“Thanks, Tsunotaro.” You beamed, positively preening at the complement. “Maybe when I find a way home you could come with me and have your own journey. There are a bunch of dragon type Pokémon I bet you’d like. Maybe your starter could be an Axew. Or a Dino. Maybe a Gible seeing how well you get along with Garchomp. There are also rock or electric types. OOH- Maybe a fairy type!”

Malleus tuned your rambling out. His head was both empty and racing.

Him? Go on a journey in another world? The idea was preposterous! Yet... also tempting.

Traveling around with no chains. Nobody knowing who he was, thus no one quivering at the sight of him. No overbearing, but well meaning, guards to coddle him. He liked this idea!

Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to dwell on the tempting daydream when Ramshakle’s door slammed open with a loud bang.

“WAKA-SAMA!!!”

Speak of the devil.

You and Malleus turned to the doorway to a disheveled and hysterical looking Sebek and a normal sleepy looking Silver.

“Sebek.” Malleus greeted, hiding his annoyance of being interrupted during his time with his Child of Man.

“Waka-sama, you mustn’t leave without telling us! What if something happens to y-”

The half-fae was cut off by and ice beam, freezing him solid. You and Malleus looked over at Glaceon who was angry about having her sleep disturbed for a third time. Now quite irritated and huffy, Glaceon angrily marched upstairs to try and get some sleep in your room.

“My apologies.” You jumped when Lilia appeared behind you without warning, hanging upside down as usual. “They ran off when I wasn’t looking.”

You looked back at the other Diasomnia residence. Silver had already fallen asleep, using Togekiss’s soft, feathery body as a pillow, while Sebek was slowly beginning to thaw out of the ice.

You wish you could say this is the weirdest thing to ever happen with them.

After having Lucario use force-palm and free Sebek, you all sat down near the fire.

(You left Silver be since he was already asleep.)

Sebek wanted to know what was so fascinating about you that Waka-sama would continuously come visit you. 

The only thing you could think of was telling them about your journey.

“After I won my seventh gym badge at Snowpoint, I had to meet my friend, Barry, at Lake Acuity and right after that I had to meet with Professor Rowan and Lucas at Lake Verity.”

“Why did you have to go to those lakes?” Lilia asked, genuinely curious as to what value they had.

“Uh, well-- mmh-- pthbbt.” You tried to think of a way to avoid that question, or at least dance your way around it, and the stuttering and raspberry blowing was obviously helping you be discreet in avoiding the question. 

“GLACE!!”

A loud yell echoed from upstairs thatw as loud enough to wake even Silver. You were momentarily grateful that you had been interrupted before realizing ‘Oh shit that’s my Pokémon.”

“Glaceon!” You yelled, bolting from your chair and rushing up the stairs with your Pokémon and the Diasomnia boys at your heels.

You opened your bedroom door with a loud bang and saw Glaceon in a defensive stance, hissing at the mirror with Grim looking frazzled.

“Fgaah! Minion, control your Pokémon! I was asleep and then it started shouting and tried to attack the mirror!” He yelled angrily, before stalking off to the living room to continue sleeping.

You sighed before looking over at the mirror. You held out your arm towards your Pokémon so they knew not to do anything yet. You inched closer to the mirror, pausing only for a second to pet Glaceon and calm her down a bit. You walked forward a few more steps until you were face-to-face with the mirror. 

Now that you were closer, you could see the shadow of something moving within the glass. You didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t Micky. You leaned a bit closer, trying to make out the figure--

“GIRATINA!!”

Everything went black.

~

The first thing you noticed when you could see again was that you were clearly not in your room. Or your dorm for that matter. 

Everything was weird. You weren’t sure of any other way to describe it other than weird.

Weird and familiar.

“The Reverse World.” You muttered, shocked by your sudden return to the feared Giratina’s playground. 

You didn’t have long to stay dumbfounded when you remembered the Legendary who lived in this world. You frantically looked around you and saw that your team and the boys were with you, which did nothing to curb your panic. Grim wasn’t with you all, so you assumed hoped that he was still at Ramshackle.

You first woke up your Pokémon. They freaked out for a second before realizing where they were, putting them all on guard. They carefully scanned their surroundings for anything they found threatening while you quickly crawled over to the boys, traying to shake them awake. 

“Get up. Guys, get up! We need to move!”

The Diasomnia boys hardly registered what was happening and where they were before you pulled them away. Your team created a barrier around you all as you lead the boys through the strange new world. All they could do was look around wildly.

“Careful, gravity gets weird here.” You warned them. 

True to your words, the piece of land you all were walking on started to curve in the air until you all started walking upside down. Even Lilia, who was used to hanging upside down, was a bit thrown off about this.

“What is this place?” Silver asked what everyone was thinking, knowing that you were the only one who could give any of them an answer.

“The Distortion World.” You explained. “Also known as the Reverse World. It’s kind of like the Underworld of my world.”

That explanation only provided them with more questions but went they entered a place that had these large bubbles floating around them they were quickly distracted.

“Hey,” Silver called, gaining everyone’s attention. “This thing has headmaster Crowley in it.”

Said bubble did have a picture of Crowley in his office, working late into the night. Huh. Who know he actually did anything.

Silver raised a hand towards the bubble. 

“No, don’t touch it!” You exclaimed. Unfortunately it was a second to late and the bubble popped at the slightest graze of Silver’s fingers.

The boys looked over to you at the sound of you yell, seeing your panicked expression.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” You order, stressing out each word. “Everything in this world effects the real world. If you aren’t careful you could kill someone through this place.

The boys looked positively alarmed.

“Will the headmaster be alright?”

You waved off their concern, continuing to lead the way. “He’ll be fine. Popping that bubble didn’t kill him, but it did feel like he was hit with a bowling ball.

“How do you know this? How do you know so much about this place, (Y/n).” Lilia asked, dead serious. 

You glance over your shoulder at them before sighing.

Guess it was time to come clean.

“There are some things that happened during my journey that I didn’t tell you guys about.” You confessed.

“While journeying through Sinnoh, I constantly ran into an organization called Team Galactic. Their leader, Cyrus, believed that the world was ugly and needed to be destroyed. His plan was to capture the legendary Pokémon, Palkia and Dialga, and the Lake Guardians, Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. Those three were the reason I met Barry and Professor Rowan at the lakes, Lilia, to try and save the Lake Guardians from Team Galactic. Anyway, Cyrus claimed that he was going to create his own, perfect world using the powers of the legendary Pokémon. At least I think that was his plan. He talks like Shakespeare and I have a middle school education. Anyway, before he could create his ‘perfect world’ Giratina appeared and took Cyrus away to here, the Distortion World. This is Giratina’s domain.”

The boys were stunned into silence. They knew you were strong, but for you to have done all that as well as fighting overblots? They were truly impressed.

“What happened afterwards?” Malleus questioned, enthralled by your story.

“Cynthia, the current Sinnoh Champion, and I entered the Distortion World to save Cyrus. Unfortunately, he saw this place as his ideal world and didn’t want to leave. In the end, we had to use force and I beat him in a battle. And, after that, I had to face Giratina itself. But, I don’t know how, but before I could face it, the Dark Mirror called me to Twisted Wonderland.”

You stopped walking, taking a deep breath before turning to face the boys. 

“We need to find Giratina. Giratina’s the only Pokémon that can travel between worlds and its the only thing that can get us back to Night Raven.”

Your tone alone was enough to my the Diasomnia boys understand the severity of the situation.

“Human, if this creature is as powerful as you claim, then how do you expect to get it?” Sebek interrogated. 

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a purple ball with an ‘M’ on it, showing it the the boys.

“This is a master ball. I stole it from Cyrus’s base when I went to save the Lake Guardians. It can catch any Pokémon without fail. All we need to do is find Giratina.”

“Lucar!” 

“Luxray!”

You all turned to Lucario and Luxray who were growling in the same direction. Looking closely, you could see something coming at you all. Your team took their battle stances and sure enough, there was the Angel of Darkness itself, Giratina. 

Even Malleus had to admit, that creature was terrifying. 

It looked like a dragon and centipede mixed together, but it towered over everything, easily dwarfing them all.

You waisted no time.

“Empoleon, Hydro Cannon!” You ordered. Even Sebek had to admit that your authoritative tone was hard to ignore and resist, full of confidence and superiority. 

Empoleon listened without question, fearlessly attacking the towering giant.

“Lucario, Aura Sphere! Glaceon, Ice Beam! Luxray, Thunder! Garchomp, Dragon Rush!”

All your Pokémon attacked at once, hitting Giratina square on. The legendary screeched before firing a move of its own that your team narrowly avoided.

“Great job. Keep attacking!” You ordered shooing the boys out of Giratina’s firing range.

“What do we need to do to help, (Y/n)?” Malleus asked. He was already gripping his pen, ready to fight.

“Nothing. Just stay put and don’t move.” You ordered sternly. The boys were stunned.

“What?! (Y/n) we can help-” 

“I know you can help,” You cut off. “But I don’t need to defeat Giratina. I just need to distract it.”

You ran off before they could question what you meant, whistling for your Pokémon.

“Togekiss!” You called, jumping off the edge of the land and easily getting caught by your flying type, who flew you behind Giratina. 

You let your team get in one last group attack before throwing the master ball at Giratina. 

The legendary effortlessly went in and after a spectacular dive made by you and Togekiss, you caught the ball and returned to the boys.

The boys ran over to you as you climbed off Togekiss, looking at the ball in your hand.

“I can’t believe you actually caught it, human!” Sebek exclaimed, flabbergasted. 

“Thanks, Sebek.”

“So what now?” Silver asked. The group all turned to you expectedly and you rolled your eyes before turning around to the wide open space and releasing Giratina from the master ball. 

“Giratina,” You called, “Please take us back.”

Giratina stared down at you before letting out an echoing screech and lowing its head to your level.

Immediately understanding what it wanted you to do, you crawled onto its head before waving the boys over.

“C’mon. We its going to take us back.”

Hesitantly, the boys climbed on with your Pokémon and once everyone was on, Giratina soared through the air.

This was different from riding a broom or riding Togekiss, who was happily flying beside you all, but it was exhilarating at the same time.

Too soon for anyone’s tastes, Giratina slowed down to a stop before lowering itself down so that everyone could climb off. 

The place were Giratina dropped you all off was a small patch of land with two lakes on it. You and the boys could see your bedroom in one of the lakes, making you realize that you were looking through your bedroom mirror.

“Alright!” You cheered. “Let’s get back.” But before you could step through the reflection, Empoleon called out to you.

“Empoleon!”

“Huh? What is it, Empoleon?”

He was looking in the other lake, pointing at something. 

You, your team, and the boys looked through the refection and you couldn’t restrain the gasp that left your mouth.

You could see the Mesprit, the guardian of Lake Verity.

“That’s Mesprit, Lake Verity’s guardian!” You exclaimed, coming to several realizations at once. “That’s close to Twinleaf Town. I-I could go home!”

You turned to your team and the Diasomnia boys, your eyes sparking with both joy and a few unshed tears. “With Giratina we can go home and still stay in Twisted Wonderland!”

Mallues watched you with soft eyes. He had seen a side if you tonight that he had never seen before. Your courage, your confidence, your skill. He had these too, but yours stemmed from experience. This wasn’t something you were taught since you were born like him, these were abilities you learned through trial and error with your team. Something that he wanted.

With a new found determination, Malleus turned to his most trusted knights and friends.

“Lilia, Silver, Sebek,” He began, quickly gaining everyone's attention, “I have decided that until it is time for me to receive the crown from my grandmother, I want to travel (Y/n)’s world with a Pokémon of my own.”

Even you weren’t expecting that announcement.

“WHAT?! WAKA-SAMA ARE YOU FEELING WELL?!?!? WE MUST GET YOU TO AN INFIMERORY!!”

“I’m fine, Sebek. And I’m not joking.”

“WHAAAAAAAT?!?! YOU, HUMAN, YOU HAVE GIVEN WAKA-SAMA THIS DANGEROUS IDEA!!”

“I think its a great idea.”

“MASTER LILIA?!?!”

“zzzzz”

You couldn’t help snorting at the scene in front of you. A rather calm Malleus simply being unmovable about his choice of coming home with you, a hysterical Sebek trying to talk him out of it, an impish looking Lilia who actually supported Malleus’s idea, and a snoozing silver, who could still sleep effortlessly despite the chaos surrounding him.

You leaned up against Empoleon’s belly, him and all your other Pokémon already lying down, knowing that this was going to take a while. Even Giratina was curled up!

But, You thought, watching the group was a soft smile, you know that no matter how much you wanted to go home, you would've missed this. And this, your friends and NRC, was something that you never wanted to lose.

Bonus:

After sorting everything out with Crowley, you returned to your world to reconcile with your friends and your mom. It took some explaining, but bringing Grim back with you as well as Malleus with his magic and horns was enough to convince everyone what happened to you.

Afterwards, you were able to compete in the Grand Festival. You didn’t end up winning, however you did make it to the finals. Your opponent, Dawn, had only beaten you by a few points.

The Diasomnia gang, as well as Grim, the Adeuce combo, and the Pomefiore Trio were all present to see this and couldn’t have been prouder.

Once the Grand Festival had come to a close, you headed over to Sunnyshore City and won your 8th and final Gym Badge, permitting you to challenge the Elite Four and Cynthia.

The Pomefiore Trio didn’t watch these challenges, but the other did. 

Their nerves were through the roof when you finally faced Cynthia. And when your Garchomp miraculously out sped her Garchomp with the finishing move nobody cheered louder. 

In the end, you took Malleus to the place where you caught Garchomp back when he was still a Gible and caught Malleus his own, whom he unironically named ‘Gargoyle.’ 

Malleus did have to return to the Valley of Thorns, but not without you promising that the upcoming summer would be the start of his own Pokémon Journey. 

I wrote most of this forgetting about Grim, so sorry he doesn’t have a bigger role or more screen time.

Fun story; I got in trouble for writing down my ideas for this at work even though I did it while the store was dead and I’ve worked there for nearly two years and have either written something or drawn something almost every shift I have. Litterally no one but the manager to caught me cares. 

And, just to irritate me more (whether she was aware of it or not), said manager takes my writings and decides to read them and then proceeds to put them back in the wrong order before lecturing me.

So, yeah, that was fun.