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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

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HASO “The Best Outcome.”

Just wrapping up a few loose ends from the past few months stories. I hope you all like it. And feel free to give me some ideas on what you want to see, or who you want to see more of. I will try to do my best :)

Breaking News tonight from the Apollo 11 memorial landing site as Admiral Adam Vr and Captains Warren Richarards and Mary Chavez were rescued from the Pacific Ocean following a journey that was supposed to be historical, turned harrowing. Amy Grey comes to us this morning with the story.

Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.

The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMTJuly 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket. In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.

While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered th attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjuncton with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division an known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assasination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty thunderhawks which were used to harry the Satern V on it’s way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, long time friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty thunderhawks. During their conversion he attempted to kill her before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir’s crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.

Indeed footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V showing approximately twenty thunderhawks attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull sucking Admiral Vir out into space, though he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time on time landing in the Pacific ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.

All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.

The investigation into the UN president’s involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.

International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.

Here is what the Admiral had to say.

“I find it…. Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do.”

“And how do you feel, personally about all of this.”

“Personally, I…. well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed…. The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I… and all of us can breathe a little easier.”

“Were you scared?”

“I don’t think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn’t ideal.”

“What do you hope will happen now?”

“I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it.”

“What do you have to say to the UN president.”

…

“I have nothing to say. Wouldn’t want to waste the air.

****

What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesrtaki) uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best tro distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.

Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.

Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez’s family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.

No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez’s younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious olympic academies on earth.

Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.

The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.

Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.

No one was entirely sure what the future held.

***

Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly’s office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.

The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.

“Vir.”

“Kelly.”

She motioned him to sit and he sat sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.

“A strange couple months wouldn’t you say.”

“Tell me about it.”{

Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them, “I always forget; Do you drink?”

“On occasion.”

“Well consider this an occasion.” She said popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.

She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass, “So what are your plans after all this.”

He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid, “Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy.”

Kelly grunted, “A simple man with simple motivations.”

He laughed , “Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations.”

She chuckled then grew serious, “A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don’[t have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity.”

\Admiral Vir shook his head, “How can you after seeing what we have seen.”

“How can you not?” She shrugged, “We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen.”

Admiral Vir nodded slowly, “The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth.”

SHe raised her glass, “Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad.” She placed her hat on the desk and sighed, “It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naeve, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken.” She turned her head to look out the window a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.

“You understand me, I think.”

He nodded slowly.

“People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don’t fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn’t exist.” She tapped her nails against the glass, “I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain,”

He listened quietly as she continued.

“Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren’t born stained while some of us are wiped clean. “ She shook her head, “Doesn't make sense to me.” She caught him with a look pinning him to the spot with her intense stare, “People like you convince me of this every day.”

“Me….”

She held up a hand. “Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong.” She leaned across her desk, “The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you.” She sat back, “Which is why I have made a decision.”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity not entirely sure where this could be going.

She smiled, “I have decided to run for President.”

He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table but managed to choke it mostly down.

Eyes wide he set his glass down, “Are you serious.”

She smiled, “Seriously serious.”

“Well shit, you have my vote for sure.” He raised his glass to her, “I couldn’t think of a better outcome.”

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wexhappyxfew · 3 years

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—— 1 year anniversary to Landslide [BOB FIC]

Wow! 1 year! I can’t even believe that just last year, I was sat in a lake house, in the late hours of the night, trying to figure out what idea was going to be my next for another Band of Brothers story! I remember the moment and where I had been sitting when the idea hit and looking back, I’m so glad it hit when it did. Landslide is far from that little idea I got in that lake house, but has continually developed, grown and changed in ways I look back and can’t even begin to think about how it even happened!

Natia Filipska has been a character that I will cherish close to my heart. Of course, I adore my other OCs and will always love them, but Natia holds an even more special place there in my heart because of the challenge in writing she has offered me. She gives me a challenge everyday - whether it’s having to rewrite a scene 5 times because “it’s just not her” or completely starting over a chapter because knowing Natia, she’d have a better way to get out of this situation.

I’ve also made one of my absolute favorite ships, coined “Fliptoye” by a few readers (you know who you are hehe) and it has grown to truly be a favorite of mine for so many reasons. There was no “love at first sight” or really anything like that. Just two human beings realizing they genuinely care for each other and enduring both the struggles and hardships that come along with realizing in war, you care for something that war can also touch. That for one of the first times it is not longer just about you or the buddy next to you. Natia Filipska and Joe Toye have been a joy to write!

And of course there was the month of disliking Richard Winters, the iconic nickname of “Mapkeeper” for Lewis Nixon, the Roman History nerd jokes that have now developed with Ronald Speirs, the slow start of some sort of friendship because of cracking a joke about Nix with Harry Welsh, and the comfort of a friend from Carwood Lipton.

Even Joe Liebgott and Natia Filipska have swiftly become a favorite duo and I can completely agree. Getting to see where they started and where they are now — from seeing their differences and arguments and heavy weighted disagreements to know finding ways to comfort each other even in the midst of war and making sure the other is okay and even eating. They’ve definitely been one of my favorite duos to go through that sort of character arc together.

AND OF COURSE, we can not forget one of the most important driving forces in the fic, Death, himself (alongside the sarcastic bits of War haha), most importantly the personification of Death. What draws me to a character like him, is more than anything the fact words can not be communicated between Natia and Death yet they hold such a strong willed connection, that you almost don’t need to worry about words. Each layer that builds with their connection, leads for an even darker end and makes Death even more fascinating in the end.

You can’t forget a guy like Agent Mortem! Without him Natia and Agent “Fidel” wouldn’t be here right? Right? Right….? Well…..anyway…..even with who he is and his partially uncovered past, Agent Mortem remains a heavy asset to Landslide as the leading cause for WHY Natia could possibly even be the way she is and to provide backstory on a multitude of other things, and for reason for Natia to have her redemption. There’s so much unexplored. And I’m so ready to talk about it! :D

Landslide has challenged me in ways I can’t even begin to describe both mentally and emotionally with my writing. I’ve had to rewrite, rework, edit over and over just to get it right but at the end of the day, it is always worth it. In some ways I don’t even know what else to say, and almost think the story can speak for itself! It is made for you to interpret it they way you wish to interpret it, there’s no right way to see who Natia is or what Landslide is about — whether for you it be about family, friendship, love in war, darkness and overcoming that, the struggles of mental health, finding your own inner peace or independence….whatever it may be, I hope it has possibly even helped you somehow in anyway :) Even with the MAJOR HECKING ANGST (LMAO💀) or the extremely sad parts (that honestly are probably just super sad to me LOL), it still is a fic full of lessons and stories equally about someone like Natia!

I can’t WAIT for whatever else this story has to bring to the table! With still a bit of writing for the future to go, it makes me so incredibly hopeful for an end in sight on both Landslide and Natia’s character and peace for all those lost throughout the story <3

Thank you to EVERY single person who took a chance with Landslide and took a read, if you were from Day One, saw it while scrolling through Wattpad or AO3 or Tumblr, or even saw the Spoon meme! I appreciate each and every single one of you! Whether you voted, commented or left a kudo, or just even took a read! I appreciate you SO MUCH! I can’t even begin to describe the joy this story has brought me and the challenges as a writer it has provided. I’m hopeful for the rest of this fic and hopefully for one or two more to come!

Special shout-out to @vintagelavenderskies for being by my side with this project since like DAY ONE?!?! EVEN BEFORE DAY ONE?!? I don’t even know but just genuinely for so long, how could I not tag you! You always are just so excited to hype me up as well as Natia (the lil bean) and give me support and comfort for whatever I was doing (especially that support, there was some rough moments throughout the year and the fic lol!) I just can’t thank you enough for your friendship and joy you’ve brought to me! <3 Thank you my friend, so so much, for everything! :D

I’ll also shoutout a few more lovely people who have just been…..absolutely wonderful in providing both support, or insight, wonderful commentary or just sweet messages throughout writing this! @tvserie-s-world (thank you for all the moodboards!!)@wecomrades @stressedinadress (credit do you my friend for og fliptoye name!!) @pxpeyewynn @whoahersheybars @kryzes @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @whovian45810 @geniedocroe @thoughpoppiesblow @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @alienoresimagines @alejodi0nysus @brichard-bwinters and just genuinely anyone else who even sent me a small ask or message, I appreciate it so much and your support or love or help in anything Landslide-related, helped me more than anything! <3

THANK YOU! TO ALL OF YOU! I don’t know what else to say except thank you. Thank you for letting me bring who Natia was, alive through this fic as well as her spirit and compassion of ending the war. Along with her friendships of Easy Company and hardships of both her past and mental health. It’s been an honor and privilege — here’s to many more! ✨

Happy reading! <3

tags: (because you’ve all been there for support and I simply adore you all <3) @sunnyshifty @alienoresimagines @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701 @huenoclue @liebegott @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @sunflowerchuck @tvserie-s-world @wecomrades @thoughpoppiesblow @pxpeyewynn @rogue-sunday @stressedinadress @jalapeno-peaches-andhersheybars @lovingunderratedcharacters @legally-devorak @sgtxliptons86 @alejodi0nysus @mrsalwayswrite @heffrcns @curraheewestandalone @supervalcsi @xthefourthx @whoahersheybars @kryzes @papersergeant-pencilsoldier @whovian45810 @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @geniedocroe @holdingforgeneralhugs @martinsrestingbitchface @pipster4107 @mads-weasley

-> Feel free if you wish, to drop a favorite part that you really enjoyed from Landslide so far, a favorite memory or moment, happy or sad, a possible favorite quote or friendship if you wish too! If you feel even more inclined, questions are open as well! I have work all day but will be home to answer ;) THANK YOU ALL <3333 (mine has GOT to be the whole lone wolf thing lol!)

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grind-pantera · 3 years

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*chanting* ms em give us your first kiss interpretation with the 10th doctor

You know what this would have been fine if i wanted to write fics when i first watched doctor who but no now i gotta do it like 15 years LATER. Reblogs and likes are totally appreciated, as is feedback! Thanks guys.

Title: Diamonds in the Sky. Pairing: Reader x 10th Doctor. Fandom: Doctor Who. Words: ~ 2.5 K. Summary: What does a first experience feel like for a man who’s lived so many lives and has seen so many firsts? Rating: K. ( Super fluffy, some angst lol so be ready. )

Tagging: @ok-anon

You could see him through the semi-transparent middle of the TARDIS. Through the churning of the engine, through the time that was bent around you, through the space that was almost smothering. Though the box was bigger on the inside, at times for you, it felt as if you were crammed chest to chest with him, unable to breathe, excitement running through your veins at the idea of what your next adventure with the Doctor would be. Admittedly, you had gotten quite accustomed to the lifestyle. To the sounds coming out of his mouth as he swirled around the console, mumbling incoherence in a fashion that was purely Time Lord. From the way that his trench coat fluttered behind him as he pulled a lever, feeling in his bones the very movements of the TARDIS, the way that his fingers lingered for a second too long out of instinct before he tapped away to do something on the other side of the console, now right before your eyes with his back towards you. The Doctor’s face was easy to imagine. Eyebrows pressed together in complete focus, lips split apart, tongue occasionally coming out in some sort of brilliance as he said something directed in your direction.

“Where do you feel like? Bitter freezing world, mounds of snow and giant snow castles or perhaps a bit more sunny--- A bit more like an actual holiday with the family-- Like---”

“Florida?” You suggested with a laugh, finally tugging yourself out of a strange linear space that you were placed into more and more often whenever you found yourself admiring him. You stood up and glanced upwards at him. The Doctor found himself stopping in his tracks looking at you though the pause in his actions was hardly noticeable to anyone but himself. The way you looked at him at times, like right now, with innocence swirling rampant between the two of you, uncovered emotions not willing to be said, he felt like melting on the spot. He popped his mouth and turned away from you for a second, swallowing what he wanted like he so often did and collected focus.

You saw his shoulders slump forward almost comically, his lips pursing together as your joke sunk into his mind before he twirled around quickly, nearly enough to send you flying back into your seat once again like the TARDIS did when first shifting into flight. The smile was still plastered on your face as he pointed at you, flipping one more shift on the console. She almost purred at being touched by him, not that you could blame the machine. From the way he finessed the TARDIS, it wasn’t an unexpected reaction. You were sure if you were in its place, you’d give an even more exaggerated reaction.

“What’s so wrong with Florida? Y’know, for a human place, it is quite nice. That got that family oriented spot, with the mouse and the duck... What’s it called?”

“Disney World?” You offered, holding one of your hands out metaphorically.

Snapping his fingers, he almost danced towards you, the Converse on his feet clanking against the metallic flooring. Excitedly, he grabbed your shoulder with one hand, the other gripping around your open hand and for a split moment, you thought he was going to pick you up and twirl you. But the simple grazing against your shirt clad arms was enough for you as you tossed your head back in laughter at his happiness. Had your eyes been open as you laughed, you’d have been face to face with the look he gave you. Melting again… Soft brown eyes melting as he stared at the subtle lines on your face as you grinned, grabbing hold of his hands on your body, leaning towards him to keep him near.

“Yes! That’s the place. Disney!” The two of you were so near one another, it was a natural reaction to smile at the feeling of his rapid breath against your face. A smile different than the one plastered on your face before. This one was soft and sweet, reserved specifically for the moments you knew the Doctor wasn’t paying attention to your expression but you longed for him to just so he could know how you were feeling towards him. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be as he let go of you to walk around the TARDIS, opting to lean against the wall, “You do know that man froze himself years ago, his body is kept under lock in key, some weird base on Earth. Weird, humans and wanting to live for years beyond needed.” He paused, looking down at his own hand in thought. “Trust me, living more than what was intended is a bitter sign indeed. No one's meant to live forever, if they were, imagine the turmoil you’d lot’o’humans would put yourselves in. Pokin’ your heads into all sorts of cans. ”

The Doctor clicked his tongue and you were nearly mesmerized watching that action as he slid the appendage across his sharp teeth before turning towards the main console of the TARDIS. That was the end of that side of the conversation, but the longing in his voice put it on hold for now. Another pin in a topic that was skimmed upon every once and a while that left you longing to touch him in reassurance. Just to touch him, not physically but maybe emotionally to calm down the raging storm that seemed to be brewing beneath his skin. There was a reason why the Daleks called him what they did. The Oncoming storm. But what if the storm had been there for years? Just simmering? Lonely, afraid, growing into something uncontainable? There was something there that you feared but it was often forgotten when he’d hold your hand running down a street, when he’d press his pointer finger to your lips to hush you in the excitement of a moment… Your fingers twitched. There it was! The feeling of shifting with him, never quite knowing where you were going to land, and even if you did have a slight idea of where you were going to vacation next, it was short lived as history liked to follow where you tread. The TARDIS made her whirl of sounds, but not the clunk that came along with landing.

“Where are we going?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds longer than the Doctor intended just to see if the familiar sound of landing was just delayed or---

“We haven’t landed,” He murmured, whether to himself or to you as he reached for the screen to look out. “Still sort of just driftin’.” His brows furrowed once again as he plucked his glasses out of the chest pocket of his pin-stripe suit with some sort of strange elegance that you found almost entrancing. “In space.”

“Well, we are in a spaceship-”

Your comment was put on pause as the doors of the TARDIS swung open, the Doctor freely popping his head out to see where. The screen was helpful but right now, his eyes needed to see what was going on. He was quick- you hadn’t even noticed him running towards the door until you felt the brush of air against your bare arms which yearned you towards the Universe that was just a step outside the door. He plopped himself down, sitting on the edge of his ship with his long legs dangling carelessly out into space. You could see the pout on his face without even looking straight at his face, the tilt of his head sparking curiosity within your own mind as you waltzed towards him and sat down behind him, gazing over his shoulder as your head rested in the crook of his neck. “Tell me Doctor, where’ve we ended up this time?”

That was merely a whisper in his ear as he took his glasses off, pressing part of the frames against his lips. “Seems to be a dead star,” you hummed in response to that, “But at this stage in its life, this type of star…. Becomes so compressed that it essentially becomes a diamond.” He turned towards you, faces centimetres apart now. “No idea why we’ve stopped here.”

“No complaints from me,” You admitted, glancing at the colors. There was mainly blues and purples, swirling in a dust of clouds around a dense object that you had deduced was the diamond the doctor had mentioned. Or at one time in its life, it was a star. You found it easy to imagine, having spent so much time with the man you were travelling with. Your imagination wandered farther than it ever had before. “It’s beautiful.”

“To think that something so miraculous becomes even more amazing after death---” He started speaking and turned his attention to what was happening outside. “Fantastic. Even after all this time, the Universe still finds a way of surprising me in unexpected ways.”

Settling down next to him, you crossed your legs and lightly leaned against him. “Imagine how I feel.”

The Doctor smiled softly at that and chuckled. He liked to do that on his own time- imagining how you must have felt, how your train of thought trailed… But now, unexpectedly, he was thinking about it and he answered truthfully, “I don’t think I can--- it’s been much too long for me to remember how first moments felt, they’re dim in my mind now, many things are forgotten over the hundreds of years and I often don’t feel it until the moment happen again. What I imagine it feeling like for you is…” His hand rested upon yours in your lap as if he were empathetically reaching out to you, something common that you had seen him do a handful of times. “Pure happiness- maybe fear and nerves at times, like now---” He swallowed and smacked his lips dismissively, trying to ignore the fluttering he so viciously felt within his own hearts syncing with yours, “It’s fleeting for me now, I’ve been alive for so long, (Name). Now imagine how I feel.”

You knew how he felt--- you could almost absorb what he was experiencing, his hand now grasping yours a bit tighter than before, like his emotions were sinking so deeply into your fingertips. He was laying bare to you--- a strange sensation. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. What you felt was--- Was… “I know.” You whispered to him, “You needn’t worry about being alone anymore, Doctor.”

“It’s inevitable,” He replied back to you, a bitter tone behind his usually chipper voice. “There will come a time, (Name), when you’ll get old and I won’t… Even having you now, I feel so alone because I know what is happening. What will happen. There’s so many things I can stop, but this...” There was a vague gesture between the two of you that he made with his free hand.

Things got quiet between the two of you quickly. The only sound that was apparent was coming from the TARDIS and yet it seemed to deafen you. The sleepless space that was staring at you, the warmth of his hand still clinging to yours desperately. Hold me, it said, forever. It was wishful thinking on the Doctor’s side, this was something he was also consciously aware of. Forever would always happen for him but it was never meant to be between the two of you. Drawing your attention from the scenes of the galaxy in front of you, you let your eyes fall on him beside you. Shadows played on his sunken cheeks, against his face giving the illusion that he was in some sort of strange blue firelight. He was handsome and with his hand still on yours, you knew that what you were feeling was evident in his own mind. That your ambitions in the moment were coinciding with his.

“There is---”

“A first you’d like to have?” He murmured quietly, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“With you.” To say that the voice you used was reassuring would be an understatement. You were soft spoken in the moment, reaching with the hand he had been holding so tightly to cup the side of his face. Instantaneously, a rush of emotion ran into you. Not all were yours, not all were his. Some were entwined in some strange dance that could only assimilate upon being your thoughts, together, as one.

“With you.” He repeated your statement, letting his hand come up to grasp the side of your face to mimic your own actions. With hooded eyes, the Doctor gazed down at you, letting it flutter between your eyes and your lips. He’d been close to you like this before, in fact, being this near felt good to him, it felt close to ecstasy to know that after what he had done with his own hands, with his own thoughts, that someone would still want him the way that you did right now. “Right now, seems like a good time---”

You were the one to hush him this time around as you closed that small gap between the two of you. It was a barely there sort of touch at first, lips holding in an awkward dance before the Doctor pulled away with hard pressed together lips and an even harder swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing with that action. That’s all it was, just a peck but he was left feeling this sort of churning in his stomach. He wanted to do it again, and looking at you through a flush of eyelashes, he could tell that you wanted the same thing. And so, the gap disappeared once again as he took initiative and allowed his mouth to form against yours properly, your hand reaching to tangle in the hair and the back of his head while he held the side of your face, still swallowing in large sumps the emotions that were tangled in your mind. Everything you were feeling, have felt about him were strewn on the table like a deck of cards at a Poker table. And in return, you received the same thing. It felt like a burning in your throat as if you had just guzzled down an entire shot of whiskey.

“Right then.” The brown haired Time Lord muttered against your lips and continued to caress your face with a gentle graze. “Florida it is…”

#doctor who #10th doctor #david tennant #10th doctor x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.36}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 3.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"And that is?" Robin raised her eyebrows at him in question and curiosity alike, immediately catching onto the spark of hope that came with the prospect of an advantage indeed.

"Me." He replied as simply as that, with an entirely, if not too straight face, and Robin couldn't help her snort in return

"How very humble of you…" She said smoothly, but with a smirk on her lips nonetheless. He was right though, they did stand two against one after all, and they always would. The thought, as always, served to calm Robin more than any piece of saving history or weapon could.

"I am entirely serious about it." Snape added however when Robin's humoured expression didn't cease even after a few seconds, and thus her smile vanished to make way for her utmost attention to his words again. "Since there have always been mutual affections between the Morgan and the Bennett heir up to this point, as well as going by the few accounts of various incarnations of the prophecy, it is safe to say that there has never before been such a disturbance. Both heirs have as of yet always opposed each other alone, because neither was free in their choice to seek out a different partner."

"And you think that whatever anomaly it was that made me not have any curse-inflicted positive or negative emotions for Morgan is the reason why the prophecy will end differently this time?"

"I believe you are the best chance to end the prophecy once and for all that the Bennett line has had in over five hundred years." He replied in open sincerity, and Robin's heart skipped a beat before it was captured by both hope and adoration. "And I can state the facts as they are: I was never meant to be part of this prophecy, nor am I part of it now. I am the anomaly in this scenario, and as we both know, anomalies tend to lead to a different outcome than the predicted one, even in any controlled environment."

"Did you just use potions logic to explain why we will win against Morgan?" Robin couldn't help the affectionate smile that took over her features once more; phrased like he had just now, it really did sound like she had a chance. She couldn't put into words how much she loved him for always cheering her up. For giving her hope, and every strength she could possibly need.

"It appears so." He mused in return, quirking an eyebrow up along with his words as he studied Robin in the flickering light of the flames. "Yet the fortunate preconditions will not change one of the core problems of the entire prophecy: in order for you to live, we will have to kill Morgan instead."

Robin's heart fell in an instant, as did her smile, and even her stomach picked up the all too familiar churning once again. For a few seconds she avoided Snape's eyes by staring into the flames, before at last her gaze returned to him in all the unfathomable sadness it brought along. "I can't kill him, Sev. I had every possibility and reason to today, and yet I… I can't."

"I know. And we will see to it that you won't have to." He replied quietly, then seemed to be lost in his own thoughts for a moment until he spoke on. "Though I admit I do not entirely understand how the prophecy treats the subject. From what I understand, Morgan will have to die at your hand and only yours, even though or especially because I am not part of the prophecy. Otherwise I would gladly have volunteered to end him myself in this very instant."

A huff, both bitterly humoured and indignant, escaped Robin's lips, and she found herself rolling her eyes at this stupid prophecy. Of course it had to be her… everything else just would've been too easy, wouldn't it? But then again… "I wouldn't have wanted you to do it either way." She said. "I will gladly spare your soul that torture at any cost."

"Morgan's death is inevitable if we want to keep you alive, you know that."

"Nothing is truly inevitable. It can't be." Robin shrugged with another sigh, then finally gathered her wits to speak up about another thought that had fostered in her mind ever since this afternoon. "You know, I looked at him while he was at my mercy today, and I realized something that only now makes sense to me. At last."

"Enlighten me."

"Do you remember what my boggart turned into, in my third year?"

"How could I forget… It was a deeply concerning and unsettling occurrence." Snape scoffed, but then sighed and motioned for her to continue.

"I think it was the prophecy that made the boggart change into that dark version of myself which we both saw. And it's also what turned my nightmares in my fourth year into such a horror show. Remember Morgan's words, at the ball: he sees in me the hollow darkness of inevitable death." Robin took a deep breath, then finally got to the point. "The boggart and my nightmares showed me precisely what will become of me if I kill Morgan like I am obviously meant to. It was my destiny in the prophecy that the boggart and the curse found in my being, not my deepest fear. Even though it might as well be one and the same thing at this point."

"That-..." Was his only reply for a few long seconds, until surprise was followed up by understanding in his expression. "I believe you might just be right about that."

"I don't want to become that thing we saw back then, Sev." Her voice took on an almost pleading tone, low and far too breathy for Robin's liking, but it was the price for keeping it from breaking entirely. "But I would, if I kill Morgan. Perhaps it's part of the curse… or perhaps it's just my own stupid weakness. But we both have seen what will become of me, and I don't want to be that person. I can't be. I can't kill him."

"Then we will find another way to end the prophecy. Without anyone dying."

"What other way could there possibly be? You said Morgan's death at my hands is inevitable, it's always gonna be either him or I. No third option. I kill him, or I die."

"Just as you said before, nothing is truly inevitable." He returned, as calmly serious as ever. "While I would not hesitate to end Morgan in a blink, I will also not hesitate to spare you from doing so yourself. We will find a different way, because we always do. Because we have to."

"Alright." And again, as always, Robin couldn't help believing him in the end. A half smile tugged on her lips as she looked up at him once again, in the knowledge that they would be alright somehow. "We will find a way, before it's too late."

"That we will." He sighed under his breath, then placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and yet held onto her a little more tightly in return. They weren't optimists, no… but they had as of yet gotten out of even more impossible situations than this, every single time.

Robin's smile brightened ineffably as she allowed herself to be tugged closer against his chest, his head coming to rest on top of her own, and for a moment they simply enjoyed the silence of the night. It was terribly late, and there was no doubt that they both were beyond exhausted. Perhaps detention and almost dying weren't quite comparable in what they did to one's body and mind, but it was safe to say that this day ought to come to an end for both of them nevertheless. It had been too much… Hogsmeade, the room of hidden things, Morgan's office, dinner, their office, Morgan's rooms, the astronomy tower, and finally the entire struggle with the prophecy right here and now. Good gods, Robin's head felt like bursting with all the things she had just learned. They had uncovered so many horrible truths today… but they finally had gotten a step further in understanding the big picture. A step further to bringing it all to an end.

"Is there any more we can do now?" She asked after a while. "I feel like we forgot something crucial, but I can't grasp what that might be."

"We should rest, for now. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be." He replied with a subtle sigh, and finally pulled away just enough to look at Robin once more. "Perhaps we should see the bright side of things, too, for once."

"And that would be?"

"I can keep you here with me all night without any remorse."

A loud snort escaped Robin as they both got up from the ground to get ready for bed at last, and she couldn't help the smirk that just then tugged at her lips. "As if you've ever felt any ounce of guilt over that before…"

"Officially, I have."

"Officially, I shouldn't even be here in the first place for you to feel guilty over."

"Good thing we make our own rules then."

"Indeed."

… … …

Falling asleep that night, surprisingly, turned out to be less troublesome than Robin had anticipated. Once they both were curled up under the soft covers, wrapped tightly into each other's arms in the fierce comfort of utmost protectiveness, they were both out like a light within seconds. While it still hadn't been often that they'd gotten to spend the night like this, it currently was the reassurance of each other's presence that made it possible to find sleep in the first place, and while Robin would've found more excitement in it under different circumstances, it was the calmness that gifted her a dreamless sleep for what was left of the night to rest.

The morning, however, was everything but calm in return. It was Sunday, sure, but when they woke up five minutes after breakfast had started, the world came crashing down on them rather abruptly. In all due haste, it took them only a few minutes to get ready and hide the box of parchments in one of the shelves before they quickly made their way towards the great hall. Together, for once, since Snape had absolutely refused to let Robin wander through the empty hallways alone, and Robin had given up her protests before she had even gotten properly started. When Snape had set his mind to something, there was little to nothing she could do about it. And honestly, she found herself rather glad about that.

As always, they did go separate ways once they reached the doors to the great hall though, and Robin didn't hesitate to make her way inside and towards the Slytherin table already, while trying to catch her breath after almost having to run to keep up with Snape. At some point, when there wasn't such a pressing reason to hurry, she would have to remind him that his legs were about double as long as hers, which made it nigh impossible to keep up sometimes. Or at least it felt like that; she would have to remember to bring it up at some point. Unfortunately, it was only when Robin spotted Gideon and Michael that she remembered something else, namely the thing she had forgotten about last night. Their challenge, which really hadn't been one in the first place. Oh bloody hell… she had forgotten to take a proper look into her memories to check the stupid order of the stupid items on Morgan's stupid desk. But seriously, there had been so much more urgent matters at hand! Bloody fucking hell though, for she still couldn't tell them that. She still had to put on a smile and joke as if there wasn't some ridiculous life changing prophecy at work. Great.

"Got up on the wrong foot, eh?" Gideon greeted her with a smirk right when Robin reached their little group in the middle of the long table. "You look like someone's turned your shower cold while you were still under it."

"Something like that, yeah." She sighed in return, then dropped down into the seat between Jorien and Simon that had been saved for her. "Anyway, good morning to you, too."

Granted, her friends did try to cheer her up during breakfast, and Robin found herself sighing inwardly more than once while she put on a fake smile and, sometimes, could even muster up a real one. Her occasional glances towards the head table were kindly ignored like always, her 'hmm's for an answer as well, and at last she almost believed that the boys had forgotten about the challenge for good when after twenty minutes still nobody had asked about it. But of course, fate or whatever entity was currently messing with her wasn't as kind as to let her off the hook that easily.

"So, when are we finally going to talk about yesterday's evening activities?" Cas asked with a beaming and giddy smile that made Robin want to strangle her in an instant. Honestly, she loved Cas, but the girl had the most awful timing known to human history.

"Oh yes, right!" Gideon jumped right onto the train of thought, and even dropped his toast while his gaze flew over to Robin. "Where's that proof you promised, huh?"

Under different circumstances, Robin would've straight up snarled at the boy's smug expression and quieted his every inquiry with a single glare. But she had more or less promised them proof, and she had most definitely promised herself to keep her friends out of this mess. So she had to live with the consequences now, even if they majorly annoyed her. Sighing inwardly, she tried to recall the details about Morgan's desk, what it had looked like, what items he kept on there… Perhaps a rough description would have to do. Or, perhaps indeed, it would only take one single detail, a detail that almost nobody could know of. Well, unless they had carefully searched through his desk like she had, of course. Yes, that certainly would do to serve as proof for the boys! Why on earth hadn't she thought of that before?! With a mostly feigned mischievous smile, Robin leaned onto her lower arms and over the table, closer to Gideon and Michael. Unsurprisingly, every single one of her friends followed suit and leaned in closer to her as well. The fact that they were already so used to her antics rendered her smile a little more real, and a little less bitter.

"Alright, but don't judge me before you've checked the facts yourself." She started, once she was sure that all five of her friends were listening. Even Jorien and Simon, who had shown absolutely no interest in the entire endeavour last night, were intently paying attention now. "In the locked drawer in his desk, Morgan keeps a book on beautifying spells 'for the modern gentleman'."

It took a second, but then Michael and Gideon burst into laughter, while Simon and the girls simply gaped at Robin as if she'd told them that a spaceship had crashed in Hogsmeade. Admittedly, both reactions amused Robin quite a bit in return, which served as a most welcome distraction from the morning's hasty gloom. The book had indeed been an amusing discovery, now that she thought of it. One that she had previously simply ignored in order to focus on the greater good, the bigger plan, the more important matters. Well, perhaps it did her some good now to remember that there were other things in life than the big problems. That Morgan was also just a human being, with flaws and secrets and weird mannerisms. It certainly made breathing a little easier for now.

"That is absolutely hilarious." Gideon snorted a moment later, after he had finally managed to catch his breath. "I honestly hope it's true."

"Of course it's true!" Cas snapped back at him, even though the fact still seemed to irritate her at the same time. "Robin doesn't lie…"

"Thank you." Robin gave the girl a half smile and a nod, then turned back towards the boys across from her. "I consider this inane challenge completed now, but you are of course free to verify my claim."

"I believe you." Michael shrugged with another humoured huff. "Would explain why the guy's always so…"

"Pretty?" Gideon suggested with raised eyebrows, and Michael nodded in agreement. "Pretty is a good way to describe it."

"Petty would be even more like it." Robin sighed under her breath, but her own thought made her snort a second later nonetheless. Arrogance wouldn't help her, but if she was stuck in a limbo between confidence and fear already, she might as well enjoy the highs for now before the lows came back to haunt her.

"Speaking of petty, you won't believe what that pillock Justin did last night!" Gideon said, and Michael just groaned in return before shoving his friend and rolling his eyes.

"Who the frick is Justin?" Jorien asked with an indignant frown in return, which almost made Robin snort again, for the girl, as so often, displayed a copycat version of Robin's own thoughts.

"Some guy in their house." Cas answered with a roll of her eyes, but more at the subject than because of her friend's question. "He should be in Robin's year, actually, but knowing her, she probably has no idea who he is either."

"Caught me. I still don't care about the people in my year." Robin shrugged with one shoulder and kept her eyes on her toast, but she didn't cease to listen curiously to the elaborations around her at the same time.

"Anyway, Justin was helping us with our charms essays last night. Or rather, he was supposed to help us, but ended up being a stupid pillock about it." Gideon went on to explain.

"Yeah, he is really good at charms." Michael continued in a sigh where Gideon had stopped. "But he didn't even try to help us! Properly, I mean. He could've just answered our bloody questions, or pointed us to books that would have helped, but no, he had to make it all even more difficult by giving us even more questions! Questions and problems and… ugh! He honestly just made it more difficult for us to get the bloody essay done."

"I bet he didn't even want to help us." Gideon made a face, and Micheal nodded once again in agreement. "He probably just wanted to make himself look clever in front of the girls in the common room. Honestly, next time we'll just do it by ourselves."

"Or ask Robin."

"Right."

Robin nodded; of course she would help them with their stupid essays if they asked, she always did, but that was entirely besides the point right now. Her thoughts were already drifting off into another direction entirely, to something they hadn't even said, and that yet their rambling had triggered in Robin's mind. A thought, an idea… a perspective! A rush of adrenaline started burning down her veins, and her eyes just as her thoughts inevitably moved away from her breakfast and her friends, towards the head table, then towards Snape. It took but a few more seconds for his eyes to meet hers, and another for his mind to reach out to her.

'That look on your face is not about the dunderhead gang, is it?' He asked, straight to the point, which Robin was as always grateful for.

'No. We need to talk. With words. Now.' Her reply was a mere staccato, phrased like that in order for her request to even come out clear over the mess her thoughts had become once more. Going by the look on his face, he had understood her nonetheless.

'Astronomy tower. In five minutes.'

______________________________

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dogmascutie · 3 years

Note

dee tell me more abt hound and runor rn 🔫

pls 💖

ask and ye shall receive sira 😌 (thank you for asking about my favorite made-up couple)

okay okay so. first of all, i love them. the rest is going under the cut bc i talk about them at LENGTH

second of all! runor is from tatooine, and they’re a tusken raider! i’ve had lots of back and forth ideas on them, and i’m not totally sure i’ve landed on a solid backstory, but basically their mother left home with them and their sister as small children for some reason, and their family was forced to make a living breeding akk dogs and massifs for small tatooine settlements. runor loved it, and when their mother found distant family to resettle with, they decided to go their own way and find work elsewhere in the universe. they’re partially inspired by the tusken woman’s story found in the short story anthology, “a separate point of view.”

they’re non-binary, something they realized pretty early on. they’re shorter than hound, with a stocky but strong body. as a nod to their culture (and partially out of habit/comfort), runor usually has their face covered, though not with the traditional tusken mask, as they have somewhat separated from their family by leaving tatooine. because we don’t know what tusken raiders look like, i like to believe their culture is similar to mandalorians - not a race, but a creed. i firmly believe they raise any abandoned younglings they come across, and so i believe under their mask, runor is part human, part cathar. regardless, very few people see runor’s face uncovered, though once they trusted hound, they revealed their appearance to him. hound personally believes runor is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

runor’s true passion is working with animals, canines especially, and they basically land the gig of a lifetime providing and training massifs for the gar - runor gets along well with the clones (similar views on community and family, honor and glory in battle, etc) and was happy to do it, as well as get paid a regular and decent wage. runor and hound meet pretty early on in the war, and it’s instant sparks. they harbor a crush on one another for a while, but while hound is unsure and afraid it might be one-sided, runor notices hound’s returned feelings pretty quickly and is happy to make the first move. they’re basically inseparable from the first date, and hound quickly becomes acquainted with runor’s personal animals: burk, the large akk dog runt, and then the three massifs. sunset is their oldest massif, named after tatooine’s binary sunset, and she’s their right hand dog - also the daughter of runor’s mother’s right hand dog, quaraka. then there’s pumpkin, who’s kinda goofy but very sweet, and the little puppy, lovebug. he was born on the battle of geonosis, and yeah, runor sees the irony now.

they’re a very sweet and wholesome couple and the definition of dog parents. i like to think that after the war, they do a lot of work with veteran clones experiencing ptsd (bc order 66 doesn’t exist in my world 😌) and therapy massifs. i also think runor returns home and reunites with their mother, introducing her to their brave clone partner. she’s initially cautious, and i don’t believe hound would be allowed into tusken settlements, but he would get to meet runor’s sister eventually, and even runor’s newborn niece and nephew! because i hc mandalorians and tuskens have a history (ex., the armorer’s mask having tusken imagery, din knowing the language and having their respect, boba earning their gadaffi stick), hound would be more trusted than most outsiders as he would know mando’a and be respectful of the tusken way.

annnnnd that’s it. one day i’ll write their fic, but this is the basic ridiculously long overview! if you’ve stuck around this long, here’s a cutie pie massif

ask me about the corries! oc or otherwise

#wow i could write an essay on them apparently #i just. i care them your honor #hound and runor for life #thiccumz #ask dee

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walviemort · 3 years

Text

hidden blessing (7/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

a/n: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life and all that. But hopefully there will be less gap between this and the next ones, and hope it was worth the wait!

To Killian’s surprise, part of Emma’s plan of preparation was rest; she was pointedly looking at him when she made the suggestion, and honestly, he’d been too relieved at the idea to say anything against it. Even more shockingly, Regina agreed, and for the first time since they’d set foot in this accursed land, Killian finally felt rested; even the nausea had abated, though he was sure it wouldn’t last long.

What did concern him, however, was the sound of David struggling once they finally set off toward Pan’s camp. Snow teased him, but Killian was worried that his brush with the Lost One’s arrow had been far too close.

And then, of course, Pan moved the camp—in the opposite direction that they’d been moving. As usual, Regina was quick to blame him and call for the use of magic. Which was a terrible idea, and he told her so, but did give him another.

“How are we going to find it?” she sniped.

“By using someone he trusts,” he replied, patience waning.

“Who?” David challenged. “Because I guess he certainly doesn't trust you.”

He’d never gain ground with David, would he? “A fairy who lived here when I was about,” he explained, ignoring the jab. “She might still be on the island. She'd be an inside source, knows all about the camp, can get us in. She might even have some pixie dust left. Perhaps we could fly in.”

In the continuation of their hot-and-cold relationship, David supported the idea—and Emma apparently discovered another person she knew to be fictional was real. If he ended up raising this child in Storybrooke, he’d have to be sure to keep such tales far away from them.

They redirected, but David was flagging. And Killian hated that he knew why.

It took some prodding, but David eventually was convinced to show Killian his injury, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. The more hormonal part of Killian was slightly jealous of the man’s not only flat, but incredibly well toned stomach, briefly mourning the loss of his own, but it gave way to dread: there was a long, shallow slice along David’s side, and black veins were already spreading from the cut.

And yet, David still tried to argue that “The arrow only nicked me.”

But Killian had seen enough brushes with the vile poison to know what lay ahead. The sight turned his stomach, dredging up painful memories. But the stubborn prince wouldn’t heed his advice to tell his family.

“Pixie dust,” David insisted was the answer. “You believe in this Tinker Bell's power? In her pixie dust?”

“Indeed, I do.” Tink had never given him reason not to. (Though, to be fair, most of their interactions were a bit more physical than verbal, and with the way the slightest thing had him aroused right now, he didn’t dare wander down that path of memory.)

“Then let's get her and that dust.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Her treehouse was still in the same spot; given his familiarity, he headed up first, only to find it empty. (Although still far too familiar; memories of one particular night spent in that hammock definitely stirred some things he hadn’t wanted stirred. Bloody hormones.)

Thankfully his pants were still loose enough to hide anything he didn’t want shown as the rest of the crew joined him in the treehouse, although their search came up empty.

Well, not entirely—while Emma and Snow were reminiscing on the hovel’s resemblance to some places they’d lived, David uncovered a handkerchief. Of Regina’s.

He should have known Tink would be steps ahead of them; she usually was.

Thankfully, she hadn’t caused Regina any harm—and Emma managed to convince her to join them. He wasn’t really surprised—Emma clearly had that way with lost souls such as themselves—though he had assumed his own rapport with the fairy would be required.

(He was pleased, however, that Tink was not averse to his flirtations, even if she was no longer the main object of them.)

Their shared history meant she could read him too well, though. On the trek back to their campsite, she sidled up to him. “So who knocked you up?” she bluntly whispered.

How the hell could she tell? Not that it really mattered, he supposed. “First time you’ve seen me in 30 years and that’s your first question?”

“Well, you weren’t the last time I saw you. Oh god—it wasn’t me, was it?”

He chuckled. “No, lass, it was not.” He had a keen memory for these things and he and Tink, despite the numerous positions they explored, never managed the specific one required for conception. “And actually, I was when you last saw me; I just didn’t know it yet.”

The moment of realization was visible on her face. “Oh my goodness. Then let me say congratulations.”

“Thanks, love.”

She then punched him in the shoulder. “You better be damn careful.”

“Bloody hell; that doesn’t exactly help.”

She helped them gather up some coconuts to share before settling in for the night (or whatever part of day it was; his circadian rhythm was definitely off, and his random bouts of fatigue didn’t help). After they’d passed them around, he sat down and was starting to notch a hole in one with his hook when Emma took a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “Stomach feeling alright and everything?”

He was speechless for a moment; despite her previous admission, he was surprised she cared. But her green eyes were staring him down, demanding an answer. “Aye; nothing too bad today; thank you for asking.” He broke through to the hollow core of the coconut and handed it to Emma. She took a sip and smiled.

“Damn, that’s good. I didn’t just take yours, did I?” He replied by grabbing another one and holding it aloft. “Good. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m aware, doctor.”

She snorted at that and took another sip, but then her smile drifted away as she swallowed. “So, uh, you seemed to know Tink pretty well.”

“Aye, you could say that; we go back quite far.”

“Were you two—is she—?” Emma stammered, then nodded toward his midsection. He had to bite back a laugh.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “We did know each other intimately, but not that intimately.”

She adorably scrunched her face in confusion, then shrugged. “Okay, I was just curious. You still need to explain all that to me, but not tonight.”

“No, not tonight; you better rest up.”

“You too, okay?”

“Aye, captain.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and headed back toward where her parents sat. The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt it when she left. This was definitely not the time or place to be warring with those feelings, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was mature enough to set them aside and focus on the bigger picture—saving Henry and escaping this cursed realm—but bloody hell was it difficult.

The near-constant flutters within began their tiny dance again; he hoped the way his hand rested on his belly was perceived as casual. Feeling that was yet another reminder of his goals here: to make it out alive for the sake of the babe, and let no harm come to them.

He was allowed to have some fun along the way, though—right?

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

Of course, those moments were few and far between. The next day brought Tink’s uncomfortable reminder that they’d yet to figure out a way out of Neverland, and led them chasing ghosts across the island as he brought them to Bae’s old hideaway.

He had never let the lad know that he was aware of its location. Or that he’d been keeping an eye on him ever since he left the Roger. That was still his greatest regret, and he hoped no one noticed the tears brimming at his eyes as he moved to uncover the entrance to Bae’s cave.

Deflection usually helped; he did find a brief moment to engage Emma, but David stepped in before she could reply. It was hard to tell if it was fatherly protection or pure stubbornness against his own fate that was the motivation. Of course, David didn’t want to hear another lecture about his situation as they opened the cave, but he got one anyway; perhaps this pregnancy was elevating Killian’s already intense protective instincts, but the man’s insistence on hiding his condition was infuriating and heartbreaking.

Honestly, the only thing that kept him back from really tearing into David was Emma calling out for him from the cave. His heart gave a leap at that, one that was clearly distinguishable from the rolling of his stomach that typically accompanied nausea, and he headed in with one last glance at David. He could deal with him later, but he’d not leave a lady waiting.

“What is this place? What are we doing here?” she demanded impatiently, trying to make out anything in the dark of the cave. Ever one for the dramatic reveal, Killian headed straight to a waiting torch on the back wall and quickly made to light it with his flint against his hook. At least, he had hoped it would be quickly, but the ever present humidity made that difficult; and then David was again pushing him aside with some firestarter from his realm. Bloody hell, was that man stubborn. But it had the desired effect, and Emma quickly realized where they were. “Neal,” she said on a breath, studying the chalk drawings that covered nearly every surface. “This is where he lived.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Baelfire spent some time in Neverland as a boy. This was his home.” His eyes were immediately drawn to a reproduction of the port and starboard coordinates that were still etched into the Jolly Roger’s helm, sending a wave of guilt and sadness through him.

The group wasted no time in beginning to search for a clue as to how Bae had left; clearly, it had been in a rush. And if Killian used it as an excuse to hover around Emma...well, that was his business.

“Anything important?” he asked as she inspected the wall.

“I can't tell yet. I didn't know he liked drawing.”

“He got it from his mother,” Killian found himself blurting out; it was also easy to see Milah’s influence in Bae’s style, and his hand immediately fluttered to his belly on instinct. Emma gave him a sympathetic half smile, but then turned her attention back to the task at hand—and in the process, discovered the way off...partly.

It was a rather ingenious device, he had to admit: a star map hidden in a coconut. Practical and creative; he couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when he explained it to the group.

“Then you can read it,” Regina stated, uncharacteristically hopeful. Which made the next part all the harder.

“Sadly, no.” Because of course, Bae had made sure to encode the coordinates in a manner that only he could read.

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead,” Emma summarized, clearly upset. She tossed the map aside and hurried out of the cave in a fluster. Her parents tried to follow, but didn’t get far before she told them she needed space.

Kililan only waited a minute before following.

She was only a few yards outside the cave entrance, forearm pressed against a tree as she stared at the ground and, most likely, was trying not to express any undesired emotion.

“You alright, love?” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She huffed. “No, not really. Just one step forward and three back, every fucking day.”

She continued to rant without any input from him—about the jungle, about Pan, about missing Henry, and her mixed feelings toward Bae. And it became abundantly clear to Killian that she needed a respite (he certainly could use one, too).

He knew just the place, too. “Swan, can I show you something?”

“Is it another way off the island?”

“Afraid not, but I think it’s what you need right now.”

She sighed, mildly defeated (which was still as much as he’d ever seen from her), but nodded.

It was a short walk to their destination—still within earshot of the Charmings if needed—but far enough to give them both some needed room to breathe. He brushed back a swag of foliage (after checking for dreamshade) and gestured for Emma to step through.

Years ago, he’d discovered the small spring here; one of the few parts of the island not bent on murdering its inhabitants. The water was fresh and cool, and various fruits and edible plants grew around the edge. Back then, he’d made a point to keep access to it open for Bae; he was relieved to see nothing had changed, save for the few vines grown over the entrance.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma sighed—a heavy thing of both awe and relief.

“Aye. Only a few places like it on the island.”

“Let me guess: the water is acid or something?”

He chuckled. “Blessedly, no. It’s one of the safest places here, actually. Bae would come here often—for water, and to bathe.”

She sighed. “Yeah, one of those sounds great right about now.”

“Go right ahead,” he said, gesturing to the spring. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me out of my clothes? Don’t forget: I know what pregnancy hormones are like.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t help the rush of thrill when she flirted with him like that, sarcastic as it was—or the slight southern rush of blood. “Well, I had planned to do the same, if you’d offer me the same courtesy once you’re done.”

“Okay. But turn around,” she directed. He couldn’t say no to that.

He also wasn’t about to divulge the places his imagination wandered as he heard the gentle splashes of water as she cleaned herself.

She didn’t take long—he could tell she was used to being efficient when it came to hygiene, like he was—and was fully dressed by the time he turned around, though her wet hair was still dripping. And he was more relieved than he planned on that she was already facing away when it came time to remove his tunic; he was by no means ashamed of the curve of his belly, but showing off something that was apparently unnatural to the woman he fancied was suddenly a mortifying endeavor.

He was quick, too, in washing up, and in getting redressed—at least his tunic; he let his vest hang unbuttoned for a bit. It had also been a minor bit of relief to undo it, and he’d need a moment to subtly loosen the laces in order to make it both more comfortable and better disguise his slight bump.

He’d given Emma the all clear to turn around before he did that, though, lest she get suspicious. Although—she seemed mildly disappointed when she did.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, just...you didn’t have to hide your bump, if that’s what you were doing,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Bummed you couldn’t see me shirtless?” he quipped.

That drew a wry, side-eyed grin from her, before she sat down on a stone near the edge of the spring and took a long sip from her freshly filled jug. There was enough space on it next to her for another person to join, but he didn’t want to impose...at least, not until she called out, “Are you gonna join me or not?”

He picked up his vest and coat from where he’d left them in the sand of the small beach and made his way over, then settled next to her. She passed over the canteen; the water was cool and refreshing—and he nearly dropped it when the babe gave a strong kick. “I guess this one likes it too,” he said after he passed it back, and let his hand rest over his belly. It wasn’t often he felt strong movements like that, but each one was reassuring—that his babe was safe from all the dangers of this murderous island.

“Have they been doing that a lot?” Emma asked.

“Here and there; that’s one of the stronger ones I’ve felt.”

“I remember when Henry first did that,” she started. “I dropped my lunch tray, I was so startled. And they wouldn’t give me any more food. But it was...kind of incredible.”

He only understood half those words, but understood the sentiment. “I was still locked up in Tamara’s apartment when I felt the first one.”

“What a coincidence; I was in prison.”

He was growing to hate the number of parallels in their lives.

“Anyways—how’s everything else? Any nausea, cravings, anything?”

It was touching that she was so concerned, but he didn’t dare complain about anything other than the intermittent nausea. As she’d said, she knew about the hormones. “Although, my boots have been annoying tight,” he did add, “and I need to loosen my vest a bit.”

Her eyes had drifted to his midsection, but quickly glanced up. He couldn’t fault her for being curious, so he tugged the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach.

“Aww, that’s a cute bump,” she gushed; it was an odd thing to say, he thought, but she clearly meant it as a compliment. “You said sixteen weeks, right?”

“Aye,” he answered, impressed she remembered.

“Yeah, I think that’s where I was with Henry around then. I carried it all in front, apparently.” She quickly grew quiet, and he could tell that wasn’t the sort of thing she shared with too many people. But then her expression grew quizzical. “Can I ask...how, or where, exactly are you carrying?”

“I clearly have a womb,” he said, trying to make light of what was clearly going to be an awkward anatomical conversation.

“Well, yeah, but…you’re a guy. Also clearly,” she responded, eyes glancing at his groin.

“Yes; I have both, then, if that’s what you’re asking, but my womb is...I suppose less functional than yours.”

“So...what, you don’t get periods or something? How does this all work?”

He chuckled at her bluntness and explained—how his womb was something of a secondary characteristic, menstruation only occurred once a year or so, and conception was also only possible at a specific time and when the female partner was on top (a fact that made her blush). “Milah and I...our last joining before she died, it would have been the right circumstances, but given how slim the chances of conception were, it wasn’t something we were concerned with.”

“It only takes once,” she said knowingly.

“That it does,” he agreed.

They settled into an easy silence, and the baby started kicking again, even more once he put his palm over it.

“Do you...want to feel it?” he asked; no one but the doctor had thus far, but he knew women and their partners and friends usually shared those moments. They counted as friends, right?

He was worried she might think he was crossing a line, but she grinned. “Yeah!”

Gently, he took her hand and placed it over the spot just to the side of his navel where the babe was pressing. Hopefully, she didn’t notice his quick intake of breath at the feel of her warm palm on his skin.

If she did, it was quickly forgotten when the little one was kicking at her hand; her eyes lit up. “Hey there, kid,” she said softly. “Look at you, growing big and strong.”

She looked up at him, smiling—and very close to him, a fact she too seemed to suddenly realize, and she quickly moved away.

They lingered at the pond a while longer, enjoying the respite from the craziness of their journey.

But Killian couldn’t stop his heart from racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Emma’s proximity, or her interest in his babe, or both.

(Emma, she was surprised to find, was facing a similar predicament. She couldn’t linger on it, she knew, but maybe when they were done, she could try to figure out what that meant.)

But for one minute, they were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment.

————————————————–

thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #killian mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years

Text

Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.

#avictimofthejazz #tw: long post #tw: long replies #you do not have to match the length #90% of this was Bonnie setting the stage #bonnie barstow #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #Michael knight x Bonnie Barstow #this probably needs like five more years of editing cause of my strong meds but I am choosing to release it after spending all day on it

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posthungergamessyndrome · 3 years

Text

so here’s my long overdue review of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes that no one asked for. I finally read the book, well listened to the audiobook, coz i dunno how to read a book anymore.

This book was everything I expected it to be and also not. Definitely the first two parts was easily predictable, we all kinda assumed that was the general arc that story would take. So while I found the first two parts enjoyable, learning more about the history of the games and learn more of Capitol, i wasn’t really hooked until the third part.

But let me say this first tho, Ms. Suzanne Collins, you never disappoint. Also I have questions and I hate that she wasn’t able to go on a book tour (I haven’t read her Q&A tho).

I still have the same qualms as i did about the prequel as i did before I read it. While I get the early records of the games were shoddy, and the 10th Hunger Games was erased but for one copy hidden in some vault, that doesn’t matter, what matter is Snow knows.

So If Snow had that relationship with the Games and Lucy, the first victor of d12, a lot of the decisions he made in the trilogy made no sense.

I get it, he wanted to forget, it’s decades until Katniss came along. While there might be parallels, Lucy and Katniss are very different characters. But all I can think off is the reason he didn’t kill Katniss sooner, was it really because she would end up a martyr or rallying cry for the district, which happened anyways, or he was practically disassociating the moment Katniss was reaped?

Were Katniss and Peeta unintentionally triggers to so many of his hidden traumas that’s why he made so many misteps? Katniss singing the meadow song to Rue, triggered. Peeta mentioning the Valley song, triggered. Mockingjay, triggered. The Hanging Tree, triggered.

Was he so busy crying in the shower that he wasn’t able to stop Seneca Crane from making bad calls during the 74th Games? Two winners from the same district, would Snow really okay’d that himself?

And also, I’ve always thought that anything he did towards Peeta was coz he wanted to hurt Katniss. But no, he wanted to hurt that boy. Peeta reminds him of his young self, at least the young person everyone saw him as, charming, smart, and loyal. And in a way, had Peeta been born in the Capitol and was among Snow’s contemporaries, Snow would have seen him as his ultimate rival.

Coz Snow was smart and knows how to manipulate people, but Peeta does it a lot better and a lot more successfully. With Snow, it’s right in front of his face and he still misses it. Often he is so close to getting it. How could he not have thought of the star-crossed lovers angle? How?? When one Peeta Mellark thought of it?

Which idk if there’s fanfics of that yet, but I need to read them asap, Katniss and Peeta and teen Snow, make it happen.

(But I was looking at my notes and I wrote probably the reason Snow didn’t think of the star crossed lovers angle because it was about his survival not about Lucy’s. Lucy was at best, seen as his possession. Even at the moments he was honestly in love with her, he still saw her as someone belonging to him only. )

Snow had two relationships going on: with Sejanus and with Lucy. I did find his relationship with Sejanus more interesting, because I think it’s that relationship that shaped him more that his relationship with Lucy.

I did like and even at some points enjoyed their Slytherin-Hufflepuff BFFship going on, coz despite how Snow let us know what he really thinks versus what he actually says, he was drawn to protect Sejanus, even though he’s reluctant about it or insist that he was made to do it or it’s also to benefit himself.

And I’m not saying there’s queerbaiting in this book, but certain pairings in this book makes more sense to ship than Johanna and Katniss.

With Lucy, i know many were wary or didn’t want Snow to have a relationship with her. For me i was open to it, at least intrigued to see where it will go or how will it be handled.

Honestly while it is still better written than most YA romances, I found it very insta-love. Again, my sense of timeline in this novel might be different coz I was listening to the audiobook instead of reading it, but they fell in love pretty quick.

While listening to the audiobook, i thought, if their relationship is at this point it must have been weeks since the reaping and the games haven’t started yet, and then Snow says it’s just been five days. They were making out I think by day 3 or something.

Maybe because I knew they relationship was doomed from the start and we know how Snow ends up, I was amused by certain moments in their relationship, coz all I can think about it is, oh honey no.

but also, I am mad that Ms. Collins is capable of writing amazing fluff moments in the midst of a dystopian world, and she wastes them on Snow and Lucy? Where was all that for Katniss and Peeta? i was given crumbs in the trilogy, Snow and Lucy made out so many times, at one point I even thought they were going to sleep together, like how dare you Ms. Collins.

For the many years we debated the meaning behind The Hanging Tree, Ms Collins, said no hun, this is what the songs means, let me tell you it’s origin story. And omg Suzanne, that was fucked up. Thanks.

One of the things I was worried about for this prequel is that while it is set in the future, the messages in it will seem outdated because a lot has changed since the trilogy came out.

But she wrote this book well before it was announced in 2019, before it was released in 2020, but she still made it very relevant for today and I think the messaging of this prequel would be more resonant in the future, like the trilogy is.

She touched upon how we really value children, and that immediately reminded me of school mass shootings and how we haven’t done anything about it. She lives in Sandy Hook when the shooting happened so this makes sense she makes a statement about it. And now we are sending kids to school in a middle of a pandemic for political reasons not because we are concerned about their education.

And there’s also mentions of a pandemic in a middle of a war, let’s say it was a whole mental experience alternating between listening to the audiobook and watching the news on January 6.

I also loved the lines: “why do people think the only thing they need for a revolution is anger?” and “we pour money into industries not people.”

While it’s almost unbelievable that the modern hunger games was merely a student group project by a bunch of privileged rich kids and one person who thinks slavery is okay ended up writing the whole thing anyways, that’s basically how this country and our system of governance was founded.

Dr. Gaul is also every Security and Development professor I had in grad school who teaches that war never ends and it’s not about winning it’s about control to a class of future leaders at the state department, white house, and pentagon. i mean, it’s the cornerstone of US foreign policy since end of WW2.

While also listening to this book, I am dead sure that Suzanne could write a different version of Catching Fire where Katniss and Peeta were mentors and they uncover the hidden 10 hunger games tape, and it still will be a be hella of a story.

It also makes sense that the two characters that could possibly tell us or Katniss the connection of Snow to Lucy were the ones who can’t talk: Mags and Tigris.

obviously lucy ended up in 13, possibly related to Alma Coin coz where else will she get that personal hatred against Snow?

Snow could have at least picked Clemensia or Lys, but Livia? i guess make sense since her offspring ended up being Plutarch’s assistant.

I feel like if i read the prequel before the trilogy, it would be a different reading experience. But at the same time, Snow, while he had his moments, is an unlikeable character even as an anti-hero, and his moral stand point is something i dont agree with, coz you know, he’s basically a republican. it’s like reading a book about a young Mitch McConnell, doesn’t matter if the system hurt him sometimes, as long as it hurts others more and keeps him in control, and i gag. I don’t think i would finish reading the prequel if i started with it instead of the trilogy.

but it does solidifies my theory that Snow’s evil is not because he is out of touch with the rest of panem, he knows suffering that’s why he knows how to exploit it. He is not oblivious to the problems, but he arrived at different conclusions or convictions, because again he supports the system that controls his enemies, even if the system is cruel to him too. Again, a Republican. Don’t be one, don’t date one.

I do wonder tho if he made good with champagne tuesdays when he became president.

I don’t see how this prequel works as a movie adaptation tho, even if turned into three parts. It makes more sense for it to be a series, so if lionsgate hasn’t declared bankruptcy before they can adapt this into screen, maybe with the state of movies right now due to the pandemic, they will be more convinced to make this into a series for Netflix or to launch their own streaming service.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #the hunger games

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katsitting · 4 years

Note

"Audacity"?

AN: So, we’ve got another one that I ran with. I hope you enjoy, and that this is along the lines of what you had in mind :) All typos are mine

Ships: Tomarry

Rating: T

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern, Canon Divergence, Professor Tom Riddle, Sexual Tension, Student/Teacher Dynamic, Tom Riddle is a Dark Lord but Harry doesn’t know this, POV Third Person Limited, Not Beta-Read

You can read it on AO3 here.

_______________________________________________________________

“That’s total bollocks” Harry said, aware that he was playing a dangerous game, but unwilling to anyway. To do anything else would be to admit defeat, and Harry, even when acquiescence was the safest option in his toolbox, would sooner kiss a Mandrake than do as much.

To hell with that.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed into his ear, with what Harry could imagine was an ashen and horrified look on her face. Harry didn’t turn to face her, though, not when Professor Riddle was standing in front of him with a look of absolute contempt on his face.

“This is insane, Harry. You’re going to get detention, or worse, expelled.” Hermione was buzzing with nervous energy at his side, while Ron, the more terrified of the two, remained silent. It was as if Ron had absorbed all the fear and good sense Harry had because what Harry said, was going to continue to say, wasn’t sensible in the least. “Harry, please, see sense.”

Harry couldn’t, not over the loud rush of anger, of bitterness in his ears. It was a writhing, living mass in the centre of his chest, a poison slowly spreading through his veins.

Stopping wasn’t an option. Not anymore.

“No matter how you slice it, it’s wrong. You can’t just say that the Unforgivables have their moments where they—the total bloody opposite of what the word unforgivable even means—are forgivable.”

Professor Riddle’s expression darkened, his contempt growing into something that resembled loathing. The murmurs in the classroom had all but vanished; Harry doubted there was even an intake of breath. Still, Harry couldn’t find it within himself to care, to be concerned. He only had room for fury in his heart.

Because how fucking dare he?

A dark wizard had murdered Harry’s parents using an Unforgivable.

A dark witch had tortured Neville’s parents until they’d gone mad using an Unforgivable.

There was no justification, no reason for the use of dark magic. Even if Professor Riddle was brilliant, one of the most talented young wizards to grace this school, he was wrong.

The gall, the bloody nerve, to say that they could somehow be justified.

Harry’s fingers were shaking to the point that he couldn’t keep his pencil in his grip.

“Mr. Potter—“ Riddle began, but Harry didn’t let him finish. He was on his feet before he realised what he’d done, hands clenched into fists at his hands. His shaking had spread from his fingers to the rest of him.

“No, don’t say another word.”

The room went still. Everyone did. Even Riddle had paused, his expression freezing into one of disbelief.

Harry drank the look in, taking that moment to give Riddle the most disgusted look he could muster, before turning away and beginning to gather his things. He wasn’t going to stay a second longer.

What would be the point? He was angry, no, furious. Staying in this classroom, with his pissant of a professor, would only invite another argument, would only cost his House more points.

It was such bullshit. Such horseshit.

Harry tried not to think about his anger, tried not to focus on the nervous glances Ron and Hermione cast his way in the hopes he’d face them and sit back down, but that anger—

It was all he could focus on, all he could taste in the back of his tongue as he shoved his books into his bag. He was so furious that he couldn’t stand it, that he couldn’t breathe through his it.

How could someone so brilliant be so blind? How could someone so young be so heartless? It was maddening. It didn’t make any bloody sense!

His head still rung with Riddle’s cavalier discussion of dark magic, of what a fascinating history they had, Riddle had said. He couldn’t get the words out of his head, couldn’t erase the look of fascination in Riddle’s dark eyes as he spoke about the subject to his class.

It was disgusting, so fucking—

Harry shot the thought down before he riled himself up any further. If he let himself just run with this, there was no telling what else he might do, might say. Dumbledore could cover for him, but not even he could protect him if Harry took things too far.

“Mr. Potter—“

Harry’s fingers stilled, his head snapping up to look at Riddle without meaning to. Riddle’s expression had grown icier in the time Harry had spent gathering his things. It was like all the colour had been drained out of him, his humanity gone.

Harry didn’t let that intimidate him. Squaring his shoulders, Harry levelled him with a fierce expression of his own.

“Sit down.”

Harry didn’t. He refused to be cowed, to be silenced for his legitimate position. No one got a pass at saying that dark magic was justifiable, not even the professors.

No, especially not the professors.

Riddle had been alright for a Slytherin, even if he was some of the harsher professors when it came to his lessons, but now, Harry was certain that he was worse than all the rubbish in Slytherins he knew.

The Slytherins he knew at least were forthright with their noxious beliefs, but no, not Professor Riddle. Riddle was the worst kind of Slytherin, the most heinous of all, he was a bloody liar. A terrible person pretending to be kind, to be good. He was—

A dark wizard through and through.

“Mr. Potter, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Still, Harry refused to back down. The room grew chillier still, the tension among the other seventh-year students enough to make everyone rigid in their seats. Harry wanted to feel bad for putting everyone through this, but he didn’t. Harry felt no guilt.

“Class dismissed. Mr. Potter, you stay.”

Riddle’s voice was a whisper; no louder than the flutter of a page turning. With how everyone reacted, it might as well been a Bombarda. Everyone scrambled to gather their things, to rush out of the room and escape from the mounting conflict with between them.

Harry paid them no mind, still not standing down even as Hermione and Ron lingered on the outer perimeter of his sight. They should have left with everyone else, but Harry understood their reservations, their hesitance. A Harry that was alone was a Harry that could get himself into deeper trouble.

Calling Professor a fucking dark wizard would do precisely that, and the temptation to shout that off the top of his lungs, was growing stronger by the seconds.

“Granger and Weasley, I believe I said that class was dismissed.”

From Harry’s peripheral, he could make out Hermione freezing in place, her hand falling away from where she had tried to reach for the outer edge of his robes. Her face was expressionless, but by the state of her hair, Harry knew she was flustered and on the verge of panicking. Harry almost winced at the look on Ron’s face. He fared no better than Hermione; he looked faint, his face a shade of pale green.

Hermione was short of having a panic attack, and Ron, by the look of things, was in the middle of one.

Harry did feel a twinge of guilt then.

Harry turned to Hermione with a smile on his face that he meant to be comforting, but Hermione’s expression didn’t look convinced. Her hair was still frizzed up, as if the strands were sucking up the tension in the room.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Hermione hesitated, unwilling to leave him alone but also equally as unwilling to disobey a direct instruction from their professor. The tension radiating from Riddle was growing worse by the second, it was only a matter of time before he directed his ire on Harry’s friends if they didn’t move fast enough.

Harry didn’t want to drag him into his mess.

“Go.”

Hermione gave a subtle nod, and then, with a fierce expression on her face, managed to undo whatever spell of panic Ron was in and lead him out of the classroom.

Harry didn’t watch them as they left, not with Riddle watching him as closely as he was. It was like he was trying to see beneath Harry’s skin, to uncover some sort of secret that he didn’t know.

What he was trying to find, to uncover, Harry didn’t know nor care.

Riddle could look all he fucking liked.

“Mr. Potter—“ Riddle began, voice so soft that Harry struggled to catch it. It wasn’t angry or upset. It wasn’t much of anything. It was empty, but it was still eerie enough to make the hair’s on the nape of Harry’s neck stand on end.

“While I admire your passion on the subject, what you have said and done today, is—“

Harry couldn’t help his smirk when Riddle stopped talking, lifting his chin a little to stare at Riddle from beneath his nose. A gesture that said, no, screamed—

I dare you.

I bloody dare you.

Whatever the circumstances, Harry was not afraid. Nothing Riddle said could scare him, nothing that he did could make him take his words back. Riddle had lost all of his respect, his goodwill. There was nothing Riddle could possibly do to him now that would make a bloody difference.

Detention?

Expulsion?

While detention was definitely a tool in Riddle’s arsenal, Harry’s behaviour wasn’t enough to justify expulsion. Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it, and in fact, Harry was certain, Dumbledore might even praise him for his defiance.

“The audacity Mr. Potter, to accuse me of being accepting of dark magic, to derail my class with your ridiculous tantrum—“

Harry laughed, unable to help it when Riddle’s expression turned lethal, when Riddle crossed the room to loom over Harry like some sort of angry ghost from across his desk. Harry had never considered Riddle the type to throw fists, but with the look he was sporting, Harry had half a mind to prepare himself for an all-out brawl.

“If given the chance, I’d do it again,” Harry said, and Riddle froze, all the anger draining out of him leaving behind an expressionless mask. “Hogwarts has no place for dark wizards…sir.”

It was miraculous just how fast Professor Riddle switched from one emotion to the next. It made one wonder just how sane he was, if one could even call Riddle sane at all for spouting the nonsense he’d had in class.

“Seventy-five points from Gryffindor and a month’s detention, Potter.”

Harry didn’t flinch, already expecting that. His entire house was going to kill him, but it couldn’t be helped. Actions had consequences, and although he would have preferred getting out of this unscathed, that was not going to be possible after what he’d said.

Oh well.

Riddle didn’t say anything more for some time, his gaze burning into Harry’s eyes. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, but Harry did not blink. He didn’t want to miss a thing even though his eyes were starting to water.

“Listen well, Harry—

The sound of his name coming from that mouth was enough to make Harry’s skin crawl.

“For someone that is so quick to accuse others of being a dark wizard, I find it curious that you would choose to submit yourself to detention with the very wizard you are accusing of condoning dark magic.”

Harry’s blood ran cold, shock enough to drain away all the burning righteous indignation swimming in his gut. Riddle’s lips had into a saccharine smile and—

Those eyes.

They were lit with something Harry couldn’t identify, something he couldn’t place. All that he knew was that it was wrong somehow, that it was—

No, Harry tried to shake off the unease. He’s only trying to scare you.

Harry squared his shoulders, fighting down the wave of unease murmuring in the back of his mind to turn away and run.

“It’s not very intelligent of you, Harry,” Riddle purred and Harry blanched, unsure of how to respond when Riddle’s face changed again, something mischievous now gracing his features. “But I suppose, that is what others find so endearing about you. This recklessness.”

Harry’s throat caught, a burn he didn’t want to acknowledge blooming across his cheeks. How did he even begin responding to that?

“I’d be careful if I were you. Someone might just find you too endearing, and—“ Riddle’s lips were curled into a strange smile, one Harry had never seen on his professor’s face before. Harry tried to swallow down his discomfort, to not take a step back when Riddle tilted his head to one side, observing him from beneath his lashes.

What the fuck?

“Never you mind, Harry. You’re free to go.”

Riddle waved his hand, and it was like Harry could breathe again, had been snapped out of his unwanted and unexpected stupor for a moment to take a step back and reach for his moleskin bag.

The moment was over as quickly as it had come.

What the fuck was that all about?

Harry couldn’t even begin to answer that question, to sort through this own confusing thoughts. Even after he’d left the classroom, rushing through the halls all the way to Gryffindor Tower at a much faster pace than he would have liked, he was at a loss.

It was obvious Riddle had been upset. That couldn’t have been more clear, but—

But I suppose, that is what others find so endearing about you. This recklessness.

It was almost as though he were paying Harry a compliment, and that was wrong on so many levels that Harry didn’t even want to consider it. Riddle didn’t pay compliments like that. Especially not after what Harry had said, had done, in the middle of class.

What the fuck?

Harry wasn’t looking forward to detention.

#tomarry #harrymort #I did a thing #one word prompts #Anonymous

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cpd5021 · 4 years

Text

Ocean Eyes -Oneshot

Based on the prompt:

“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

From the list of prompts I had reblogged earlier. Thanks to @randers198 for the request! As always, my inbox is open for all your requests, whether it’s from a prompt list or something you come up with yourself. Just let me know and I’ll see what I can come up with. Thanks!

To say it had been a long day would be an understatement. The unit had spent the better half of the last three days working a grueling case that had left Hailey feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. Finally, after many hours of surveillance, undercover work and a physical fight to take their suspect down, they were able to say they had finally caught their guy. Hailey had declined the invite to Molly’s, stating she was just too tired, which wasn’t all that much of a lie. What she left out though was the personal drain she felt from this case, the domestic violence they had uncovered resembling a life she was all too familiar with from her childhood. Once she made it home, Hailey headed straight for her shower, ready to wash the case away. She stood under the stream from her shower head, letting the heat relax her body, until the water ran cold. Next, she pulled some baggy grey sweatpants from her dresser and tugged on an old t-shirt to match. She was tempted to just crawl into bed at that point, but a rumble from her stomach let her know she should probably eat something first. Hailey headed downstairs to raid her kitchen for something quick and easy, having neither the energy nor motivation to cook much of anything. She settled on some pizza rolls stashed in the back of her freezer, not something she would normally indulge in but tonight it would do. While she waited for them to heat up, Hailey wandered back to her refrigerator, deciding she might as well have a beer along with the snack. The timer dinged, signaling her food was ready and she perched herself on the counter to eat, feeling to lazy to move to the table. Once she finished eating, Hailey padded into the living room, deciding to watch some crappy TV while she finished the rest of her beer. Just as she got comfortable on the couch, her doorbell rang and with a sigh she headed to see who it was. Not surprisingly, when she pulled open her door, she was met with a sheepish smile from Jay. She figured he saw through her fib of just being too tired, knowing what he did of her past. Half of her wished he had just let it go while the other half had her feeling thankful she wouldn’t be alone to process her thoughts.

“I know you said you wanted to be alone, but....” He trailed off, brushing beside her as she stepped aside to let him in.

“But this is the thing that works.” Hailey gave him a small smile and headed towards her kitchen. She bent down into the fridge, pulling him out a beer and cracking it open before she handed it too him. She padded back into the living room with Jay behind her and plopped down onto the couch. She took a sip of her own beer and saw his eyes glance her up at down. Her heart skipped a beat watching his eyes trail down her body and she made herself take another sip to cool her thoughts down.

“Anything good on?” Jay asked, nodding towards the TV as he leaned back into her couch.

“Just the same old crappy reruns I usually watch.” She chuckled, grabbing the remote to flip channels. They sat in silence for a while, watching the end of one of Hailey’s guilty pleasure sitcoms before Jay spoke.

“So, how are you doing after that case?” He looked over out of the corner of his eyes as he took a swig from his beer.

“Eh,” Hailey shrugged. “Been better, been worse.” She pursed her lips, slightly drawing one side of her mouth up.

“I figured it might bring some stuff up.” Jay gently broached the subject of her past, knowing it was a touchy topic for her.

“Yeah...” Hailey sighed and took the final sip from her now empty bottle. She raised it up, shaking it in front of her to indicate she needed another one and stood to make her way into the kitchen. Jay followed her into the other room and when she reemerged from her lean into the refrigerator, she could have sworn Jay’s eyes had been checking out her behind. Not that there was much to see in the baggy sweats, but it wasn’t something she had caught him doing before. She shook her head briefly, shaking the thought from her mind. Surely she had been imagining it. They remained in the kitchen then, Jay sitting at one of her bar stools at the island while she sat perched on the counter next to her sink. Their conversation flowed easily, Hailey letting him in to some more history from her past and Jay treading carefully with his responses. After sharing a particularly rough memory involving her father, Hailey found her eyes stinging with tears threatening to spill. Jay gave her a sad smile from his seat and drew his almost empty beer bottle to his lips. Hailey watched as he swallowed the last of the liquid and decided after their discussion, she needed something stronger. She hopped off the counter and then stretched onto her tip toes to reach the bottle of tequila stashed atop her refrigerator. Her shirt raised up with the movement, revealing just a bit of her toned torso. This time Jay’s eyes had definitely been checking her out. Hailey turned to face the cabinets, swallowing hard as she tried to rid herself of the thoughts quickly forming in her head. She must be getting hit by the alcohol more than she normally does because there was no way Jay was actually checking her out or even remotely interested in her for that matter. Hailey grabbed to glasses from the cabinet, deciding it must be a stress induced reaction to be imagining her partner looking at her that way. Hailey headed back towards the couch then, not looking to see if Jay was following but knowing he would. They situated themselves on opposite ends and Hailey poured them each a shot. Jay reached to clink glasses with her before they both tossed back the liquid. Hailey laughed when Jay grimaced at the burn from the liquid, reaching for the bottle to pour them another glass, one they would just sip at this time. The conversation shifted from work, to lighter subjects like hockey and more of Hailey’s favorite reruns. Jay teased her about the shows she watched and Hailey playfully tossed the remote towards him, laughing for him to find something then. Her aim was off though and instead of landing in his lap, the remote tumbled to the floor. In another fit of laughter, Hailey leaned down to pick of the remote and when she righted herself she noticed Jay had leaned forward to do the same. Now they sat, both perched on the edge of the couch, and bodies significantly closer than they previously were. Hailey’s body felt frozen as she watched Jay’s hand come up to the side of her head, gently tucking a lose strand of hair back behind her ear. He leaned back into the couch and she did the same, fighting the urge to trace her fingers over the white hot trail his touch had left behind. Jay sipped at his tequila then, still watching her from the corner of his eye. Hailey held his stare, causing him to turn his head to fully face her. His warm eyes bore into hers and she felt her heart beating faster by the second.

“They’re so blue.” Jay announced, bringing her back into the moment.

“Huh?” She asked, suddenly confused.

“You’re eyes, they’re so blue.” Jay smirked at her as she stammered for a response.

“Um, yeah..I guess.” Hailey shrugged, voice suddenly shaky.

“Mhmm.” Jay nodded and took another sip from his glass, but not before she watched him look her up and down again. “I like it.”

“Like what?” Hailey was almost afraid to ask, totally unsure of what his next words would be.

“The color they are. It’s pretty.” Jay tilted his chin up slightly, raising his eyebrows and giving her a grin.

“Are you...are you flirting with me?” Her question came out in a nervous chuckle and realizing what she had just said, Hailey panicked and brought the tequila to her lips, ready to just down the rest of her glass as a shot. She was crazy, she had absolutely lost her mind. There was no way she was interpreting this situation right and now her word vomit was going to make this so awkward for the both of them. She let the warm liquor pour into her mouth, hoping she could somehow disappear from this room, but Jay’s reply had her spitting the tequila back out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“You finally noticed? Jay chuckled as she sputtered and coughed on the liquid dripping from her mouth. Hailey felt her face burn, both at the embarrassment of her actions and the sudden rush of heat she felt from his response.

“You’re drunk?” Hailey asked once she finally managed to compose herself.

“After a beer and one and a half drinks? Nah.” Jay grinned back at her, his face teasing but his eyes had a new darkness to them as he shifted himself on the couch so that he could lean closer to her. “Maybe just a little braver than I normally am.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Normally?” Hailey wanted to clarify what he was saying. Her world was spinning around her and it had nothing to do with the alcohol coursing through her veins.

“I’m always thinking it, I’ve just never had the balls to say it.” Jay leaned impossibly closer still and Hailey was struggling to steady her breathing.

“Say..what?” She pressed, voice low and muffled. Jay closed the gap between them, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek before pulling back so that their eyes were level with each other, just inches apart.

“That you’re beautiful.” His voice was husky and it sent a shot of heat racing through her. Hailey was sure her heart was going to beat right out of her chest, surely he could hear the pounding as it was almost deafening to her ears. She froze for a moment, contemplating her next move. With a deep breath and mustering all the courage she had, which was limited despite her liquid help, Hailey lifted her arms and slowly rested her hands onto Jay’s shoulders. Her hands wound their way to the back of his neck, her eyes searching his for any hint of resistance before she gently pulled him closer to her and tilted her head slightly so their lips could meet. As soon as Jay’s mouth touched hers, Hailey felt sparks explode throughout her body. The kiss was slow at first, timid as they both processed what was happening. But quickly their pace increased, Jay reaching one hand to hold the back of her head while his other hand rested on her bent leg between them. Hailey could have spent the rest of her life just reveling in the feel of his lips working against hers, his tongue dancing around hers, and his warm hands gripping her skin, but eventually they both needed to come up for air. Hailey found herself out of breath when they broke apart and laughed when she heard his ragged breathing too. She looked up at him, his face a mixture of lust and embarrassment and she was sure hers looked the same. They had just crossed a line they had never even come close to touching and now everything between them would change. Hailey found herself both excited and terrified at the thought. But for now, she was content with just being lost in Jay’s eyes. The rest could wait.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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bluedemon1995 · 3 years

Text

31 Resolutions-Happy New Years! Better late then never right? I wrote way too much and then had a killer headache so sorry it's not on time. To make up for it, I added a bonus! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! Also this one is so long that I’ll add the link if you want to finish reading there!

Pidge was sitting at the table at the NYE gala and for the first time in a long time, feeling unsure. It started off well enough. She was dressed up, wearing a green and black gown that Veronica had assured her was stunning. It hugged her body and yet, didn’t make her feel uncomfortable or self conscious. She wore shiny sandals that reminded her or ivy and some jewelry that some of the Olkarion refugees had made for her. She was even feeling good about her hair and makeup. She felt that she still looked like herself but maybe a more shined up version or even more adult version.

The girl MFE pilots and Romelle all got ready together, having a few pre-drinks and even hiring a driver to take them to the gala. End result, when she arrived at the gala for the first time while attending an event like this, she was feeling happy and relaxed. And while her mom wasn’t happy that she declined a few invitations from some other officers overall she was letting her be because ultimately Colleen was just glad that she was in attendance. But what made today special was that Pidge knew she was getting another opportunity to enjoy her friends and family before everyone dispersed and went back to their own lives.

But that comfort was short lived because over the course of the night, what started as a small look or comment turned into blatant rudeness and what felt like an outright attack on her. Which Pidge was sorely unprepared for. While in school as Katie, she was used to being an outcast and the nerd. But she wasn’t outright bullied because well, no guys were interested in her and she was pretty low on the totem pole. Then at the Garrison she was a guy and while often ignored she wasn’t picked on. Then she found Hunk and Lance and well, no one said shit to her.

But thinking back to when she walked in with the girls and met up with the MFE pilots and the paladins-minus Coran. Everyone greeted each other warmly and introductions of the new people were made. Keith introduced a few new Blades- the males: Linus, Titus and a new female-Amoza. If Pidge thought Acxa was intimidating, Amoza was ten times that. Apparently, they were hoping to see Earth customs firsthand and make a few contacts. They all entered together and grabbed drinks and stood around to mingle. But one of the first things Amoza said to Pidge was inquire why she was so small, if she was a kit.

That comment made Pidge flush and stammer, which probably provided her proof, but she was just unprepared for that comment especially after feeling so mature. Thankfully, Keith interjected, joking that she didn’t want to make that mistake. He gave her a warm look, that made her flush, and when she averted her eyes from his gaze she noticed that Amoza was staring at her. Pidge looked to Veronica but she was arguing with Lance and Hunk and Shay were closely talking. And it didn’t look like she was impressed with her. Getting lost in her thoughts, Pidge lost track of the conversation. Tuning back in, she realized that Amoza had somehow managed to turn everyone so she was on the outskirts of the group. Sighing she glanced around the room looking for an exit strategy.

Spotting her parents, Pidge excused herself to go and say hi to her parents and Krolia. Both Keith and Matt quickly followed however, with Keith asking if everything was ok. She nodded while avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to seem immature so she just jumped into the conversation. Later, as others mingled she found herself standing with Keith off to the side of the room. As always, she felt herself relax and again feel that strange comfort and familiarity that she often doesn’t find with others. And when Keith asked what she was drinking and she explained it was some new drink that was a version of sake he asked if he could try it. Shyly nodding he took her hand and guided it to his mouth. Pidge felt that his eyes were on hers and she couldn’t break it away. Then the announcement came for everyone find their tables. When she turned she looked up only to find Amoza’s gaze steadfastly on her.

Shaking off that uncomfortable feeling both headed to the table with Keith’s hand in the small of her back. Which was nothing unusual except that her lower back was uncovered due to the dress. As they made their way to the table, Pidge could feel the heat of his hand and that his thumb rhythmically move up and down. As they approached the table of 8, she quickly surmised there was a problem. Sighing she looked around frantically trying to keep her cool. Shiro, Curtis, Hunk, Shay, Lance, Veronica, and Amoza…they were short a seat. As they get to the table, she can feel herself start to panic and she turns looking for a seat close by at a different table.

Keith catches up and quickly sees the problem, frowning, he questions, “Amoza, I thought you were seated with the Blades?”

The young and beautiful alien looks up in surprise. “Oh sorry, I just assumed as your partner, I’d be seated with you. My, um, how do you say, mistake.”

That said she didn’t move. An inch. Pidge had started at the word partner…was Keith in a relationship with the alien? Why didn’t she know about this. But why wouldn’t he? He was single and attractive, and so was she. And tall. Strong.

So many thoughts started flying through her brain that she unintentionally took a step back, slightly twisting her ankle in the unfamiliar heels. She let out a quiet, “Ahh” when Keith’s hand turned into an arm support for her. Adjusting quickly to the added weight he bent his head, murmuring directly in her ear, “Hey no worries, I got you.”

Pidge felt her eyes tear and for a moment everything was blurry. Quickly blinking, she tried to straighten and looked around, “Hey, no problem, I’m fine. I’ll just find another seat. Go ahead and sit Keith.”

She moved away and looked around, right into James’ concerned face. Their eyes met and he stood. “Katie, I’d be honored if you sat at our table. None of us have dates, so we have the room. I mean if, you don’t mind sitting me and a bunch of unruly MFE pilots.” Smiling he reached a hand out to her.

Filled with relief, Pidge nodded, “Sure, thanks James.”

Just as his hand held hers however, Keith interrupted abruptly, “No need Griffin, Amoza should really be with her teammates.” Lacing his fingers with Pidge’s he continues, talking directly to her, “C’mon, like I’d, or um, WE would let you sit anywhere else.” Tugging on her hand he urges her back towards the original table. Now speaking to James-his gaze on the other man standing, “Appreciate the offer but Pidge is ours.”

Pidge starts to move back when she hears James say, “Well, I think she works more with me now so that’s debatable. I’d even go so far to say mine, but sure, you were part of her first team. I understand you have some history there.”

Pidge’s eyes get large and she makes eye contact with Veronica who pretty much spit her wine out all over Lance at that comment. Lance howled, torn between laughing and being bad at getting wine over his suit-loudly, which was a nice distraction. Because Keith had already turned and moved towards Griffin to reply. Pidge quickly pushed Keith towards the table, “Not now! Please.”

He looks down at her and pulls her arm so they are practically embracing. He looks over her head and stares at James, “We can talk about this later Griffin.”

“Looking forward to it, Kogane.”

“Keith, everyone is staring, let’s just sit.”

He nods, turning to the table, “Amoza, do you know where your table is?”

“No, can you show me?”

He nods, “It’s on the perimeter by the entrance doors, two from center.”

Amoza stares at him, then at her. Veronica interjects, “If you’d like I can walk you over now, I just see that Acxa has arrived and I’d love to say hi.” Standing, “Let’s go.”

Amoza finally stands, giving Pidge a look that clearly was not filled with love or New Years cheer. As they sit, she looks down, at her painted nails, thinking, I never stood a chance.

Keith leans close, “Hey, um, sorry did you want to sit with Griffin?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just you look a little sad, I’m sorry if I spoke for you. I, just, you belong here with m-us.”

“No, Keith don’t be dense, of course I want to sit here. I just feel bad that your partner had to leave.”

Lance interjects here, “Yeah, what’s with getting a girlfriend and not even telling us! C’mon you could of sent a message!”

Now it was Keith’s turn to say “Huh?”

Lance rolls his eyes, “Um yeah hot alien who said she was your ‘partner’.”

Keith shakes his head in the negative, “No! We aren’t dating. She’s still new to the language I’m simply training her. And the way it works is during training with the Blades is they are supposed to stay with their trainer. Nothing more, so stop.”

At that reply, Pidge lost track of the conversation but felt so relieved that she took her glass of wine and took a healthy drink. Damn, what was going on with her???

The rest of dinner went by fine but Pidge could swear she could feel the alien’s eyes on her. And she was right because each time she turned or looked, she was staring. And somewhere along the line, Keith had his arm draped across the back of her chair and was pretty attentive to her overall, which was only adding to the confusion on Pidge’s end. Which let to a little too much wine at dinner.

Getting up, she excused her self to the restroom hoping to get a handle on herself. As she was washing her hands, she looked in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her hands were shaking. Sighing she wished things could just be easy. Lately, she had found herself thinking of Keith in very unplatonic ways and their phone calls and messages started to become more frequent. She thought Shiro had said that Keith was thinking of staying on Earth for a while and that led to some pretty fun daydreams on her end. But apparently that information was incorrect and she needed to adjust.

Just as she turned to head for the door, Amoza stalked in. She looked her up and down and stated, “Human, I want to inform you that Keith will be my mate. We are perfectly suited and my father is a very powerful man on my planet. I get want I want.”

Pidge blinked, what the hell?!

Suddenly angry and less self conscious, she replies instantly, “Well, alien, I’m thinking Keith has something to do with this and it’s up to him who he will be with. You may think you are perfectly suited but I know we are. That’s what years of fighting side by side do. And I don’t need my daddy to get me a man. I can do it all on my own so fuck off.”

Pushing forward she storms out of the bathroom, only to see Veronica and Acxa listening at the door. Pissed at herself for losing her temper and pissed at the alien who thought she could push her around Pidge looks at them both. Not sure what to expect she’s surprised when they both grin and Acxa replies, “You stop girl!”

Veronica laughs, “I think you meant, you go girl. And I second that, no one has that right and I’m thinking she’s an alien gold digger or hussy.”

That was enough to make Pidge laugh and readjust her mood. The girls walk with her back to the table. “Didn’t you guys have to go to the bathroom?”

“Nope, just wanted to check on you and be sure you had backup if necessary. Acxa saw Amoza leave right after you. We wanted to be sure she didn’t ambush you but a few people slowed us down.”

Feeling calmer, Pidge nods, “Thanks for the backup.”

The rest of the night progressed similarly with Amoza trying to get alone with Keith or trying to put Pidge down but everyone was quick to stop it. But nonetheless it was exhausting trying to keep up her guard. Pidge finally found Matt, “Hey, I’m gonna go, I got a room up stairs and I need to get out of here.”

Matt nods, “I’ll come too.”

“No, no!! Please stay. Tell everyone good night and I’ll see then at the breakfast buffet.”

Matt nods, kissing her cheek. “Be careful, love you and Happy New Year.”

Pidge strides out of the ballroom, stoping at the stairs to take off her shoes. They are killing her and she just doesn’t care anymore. She goes up one step when she hears her name being called loudly. “Pidge, stop.”

Looking across the hallway she sees Keith jogging up to her. With her on the step they are almost eye to eye. “You are going to miss the countdown.”

“It’s okay. Go find”

“No.”

“Keith.”

Both can hear the yelling and the countdown, when Keith tentatively slides his hands on her hips and slowly around her. Pulling her closer, his one hand is splayed on her lower back and the other is on her neck, all the while maintaining eye contact. “Happy New Year” with those words he lowers his mouth to hers. Foregoing a typically tentative first kiss, this kiss was all heat and passion. Pidge’s mind swam and she automatically opened her mouth to his demand. And demand it did. The kiss stole her breath and made her realize that this was what she was missing from her life. How did she survive without Keith’s kisses??

She heard a moan and absently realized that was her! Pidge has no idea how long they kissed but when they stopped her shoes were on the floor, she was pressed up against the stair railing, somehow Keith’s leg was in between hers and she was essentially riding his leg. Her hands were tangled in his hair and both were breathing heavily.

Keith brushes his nose against hers, “So, my New Years resolution is to stop being afraid of rejection and to reach out to those people I need. I’m going to communicate better. That said, I have come to realize, that I need you Katie, so much. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise, I want more than friendship, a lot more. So, I gave my resignation to the Blades and am opening a mechanic shop. I told Shiro I’d freelance for him and the paperwork just got cleared. So I’m officially a consultant for the Garrison and I’m looking for a house. I was hoping and praying, that maybe you’d like to…well..be mine?”

Pidge’s eyes filled with tears, “Quiznack! Of course. Shit Keith that’s the best New Years resolution and let me say, I will also make that same promise. I have come to realize I’ve had feelings for you too and I was too scared to tell you. But, never again.”

They both smiled and kissed again. Upon hearing a whistle and the comment, “Hey isn’t that the Green and Black paladin?” They both decided to adjourn to Pidge’s room and relax.

Bonus

Next day….

Keith was in the gym going over his mourning routine. He had about 40 minutes before he needed to wake Pidge up for the breakfast. He was hoping to be done in 20 so they could have a little time before meeting up with everyone. He couldn’t wait to tell Shiro the good news even though he figured he already knew.

With that he turned to see his blade team walking in. Acxa smiled, “You look very happy.”

Keith grinned, “Yeah I feel it too.”

She nods, stating quietly, “Just so you know, there will be money exchanging hands. We have quite a large pool of money on the outcome. So there will be many questions at breakfast.”

Keith laughed, “You know what, I don’t even care. I’m that happy right now.”

Amoza walks up to him and states, “When do we leave?”

Keith nods, addressing the whole group. “So, I was going to tell you this later but now is good. I’m not returning, Acxa will be your leader and I’m staying on Earth. But if you ever need anything please don’t hesitate to reach out. And you know what, I’m done for today, so I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ve gotta go see about my girl.”

He leaves before anyone has a chance to say anything.

At breakfast, the room quiets down fast when Amoza storms in and growls, “You should rethink this. I have offered for you. If necessary, I am willing to battle for your hand. You definitely deserve better than that kit.”

Keith frowns, “That is uncalled for. I’ve never considered us anything other than coworkers. What the hell?”

Pidge grins, “I’m game! How do we battle for Keith’s hand? I haven’t really kicked ass in a while.”

Colleen shoots her a frown, hissing, “Do you SEE how big that alien is? I don’t want you hurt!”

Matt laughs, “Seriously mom, you have no worries. Pidgey is totally badass.”

Krolia stands, “There is no need for a battle. Keith, hand me your blade.” Keith passes it over immediately, “Little one, please take this.”

Pidge takes it, holding it in her hand. Krolia continues, “Please say Knowledge or Death and hold the blade in a fighting stance.”

Pidge nods, standing and instantly mirroring Keith’s fighting stance with the blade and says clearly, “Knowledge or Death.”

The blade instantly glows and transforms into Keith’s preferred weapon. But then the blade glows even brighter and slowly transforms into a weapon that is better suited for Pidge, lighter and more balanced for a smaller fighter. As the room is filled with gasps, all of the Blades kneel and with a fist over their hearts reply, “Knowledge or death.”

Pidge looks to Keith who looks just as confused. Krolia speaks up again, “Thank you. You may pass the weapon back to Keith. This is proof that even the blade recognizes you as Keith’s true mate.” She smiles and reaches out to squeeze Pidge’s shoulder.

Pidge sits down, “Wow, that was intense. I wonder how that does it? It actually felt lighter when it changed for me. I wonder if I could“

Keith grins, and kisses her on the mouth, “Later, we have all the time in the world remember?”

#katie holt #keith kogane #kidge #kidgemas 2020 #keith and pidge #pidge and keith #keith x pidge #keith

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haleysspanishlitblog · 3 years

Text

Ten Interesting Spanish Fiction Novels

1. The Prince of Mist: by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

“1943. As war sweeps across Europe, Max Carver's father moves his family away from the city, to an old wooden house on the coast. But as soon as they arrive, strange things begin to happen: Max discovers a garden filled with eerie statues; his sisters are plagued by unsettling dreams and voices; a box of old films opens a window to the past.Most unsettling of all are rumours about the previous owners and the mysterious disappearance of their son. As Max delves into the past, he encounters the terrifying story of the Prince of Mist, a sinister shadow who emerges from the night to settle old scores, then disappears with the first mists of dawn . . .Originally published in Spain as a young adult novel, THE PRINCE OF MIST is a mesmerising tale of mystery, romance and adventure.” (Amazon.com)

2. The Queen's Vow: A Novel of Isabella of Castile by C.W. Gortner

“Isabella is barely a teenager when she becomes an unwitting pawn in a plot to dethrone her half brother, King Enrique. Suspected of treason and held captive, she treads a perilous path, torn between loyalties, until at age seventeen she suddenly finds herself heiress of Castile, the largest kingdom in Spain. Plunged into a deadly conflict to secure her crown, she is determined to wed the one man she loves yet who is forbidden to her—Fernando, prince of Aragón. As they unite their two realms under “one crown, one country, one faith,” Isabella and Fernando face an impoverished Spain beset by enemies. With the future of her throne at stake, Isabella resists the zealous demands of the inquisitor Torquemada even as she is seduced by the dreams of an enigmatic navigator named Columbus. But when the Moors of the southern domain of Granada declare war, a violent, treacherous battle against an ancient adversary erupts, one that will test all of Isabella’s resolve, her courage, and her tenacious belief in her destiny.” (Amazon.com)

3. The Fountains of Silence by Ruta Sepetys

“Madrid, 1957. Under the fascist dictatorship of General Francisco Franco, Spain is hiding a dark secret. Meanwhile, tourists and foreign businessmen flood into Spain under the welcoming promise of sunshine and wine. Among them is eighteen-year-old Daniel Matheson, the son of an oil tycoon, who arrives in Madrid with his parents hoping to connect with the country of his mother's birth through the lens of his camera. Photography--and fate--introduce him to Ana, whose family's interweaving obstacles reveal the lingering grasp of the Spanish Civil War--as well as chilling definitions of fortune and fear. Daniel's photographs leave him with uncomfortable questions amidst shadows of danger. He is backed into a corner of difficult decisions to protect those he loves. Lives and hearts collide, revealing an incredibly dark side to the sunny Spanish city.” (goodreads.com).

4. The Last Queen: A Novel by C.W. Gortner

“In this stunning novel, C. W. Gortner brings to life Juana of Castile, the third child of Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand of Spain, who would become the last queen of Spanish blood to inherit her country’s throne. Along the way, Gortner takes the reader from the somber majesty of Spain to the glittering and lethal courts of Flanders, France, and Tudor England. Born amid her parents’ ruthless struggle to unify and strengthen their kingdom, Juana, at the age of sixteen, is sent to wed Philip, heir to the Habsburg Empire. Juana finds unexpected love and passion with her dashing young husband, and at first she is content with her children and her married life. But when tragedy strikes and she becomes heir to the Spanish throne, Juana finds herself plunged into a battle for power against her husband that grows to involve the major monarchs of Europe. Besieged by foes on all sides, Juana vows to secure her crown and save Spain from ruin, even if it costs her everything.” (Amazon.com).

5. The Island Villa: The perfect feel good summer read by Lily Graham

“When Charlotte’s husband James tragically dies, he leaves her an unexpected gift – her grandmother’s beautiful villa, Marisal, on the Spanish island of Formentera.As she begins to explore her new home, and heal her broken heart in the warm golden sunshine, Charlotte discovers that her grandmother Alba has been keeping secrets about her life on the island. Intrigued by her family’s hidden history, Charlotte uncovers a devastating love affair that put many lives at risk and two sisters torn apart by loss.Can the heart-breaking truth of the island’s dark history finally be laid to rest? Or will the secrets of the past shake the new life and love that Charlotte is close to finding?” (Amazon.com).

6. The Queen's Prophet by Dawn Patitucci

“When the Countess of Walther dies at her German estate, her loyal dwarfess Maria-Barbara is forced to work as a prophet for a traveling magician, who betrays her by selling her to the Queen of Spain. At the royal court in Madrid, Mari finds herself in a bizarre, enchanted world, a society culturally splendid but intellectually isolated. There she becomes Maribarbola, prophet to the Queen, and, her survival at stake, endeavors to outsmart the Spaniards. Mari's wits and loyalties are tested as she becomes embroiled in palace intrigue alongside the politically embattled Queen. When Mari's carefully schemed prophecies dazzle all of Spain, she and the Queen climb to dizzying heights of power, a place as intoxicating as it is dangerous. But even as Mari survives and thrives at the Spanish court, the loss of identity she suffers from living a lie makes her question whether she is really surviving at all.” (Amazon.com)

7. The Yellow Rain Hardcover by Julio Llamazares

“Ainielle is a village high in the Spanish Pyrenees. Its houses are mostly deserted ruins and have been for years. Ainielle's last surviving inhabitant, an old man at death's door, lingers on, and as the "yellow rain" of leaves flutters around him and the first snows of the year fall, he recalls the life he lived and the ghosts-once his friends and neighbors-who have taken possession of his solitude.Hailed on first publication and continuously reprinted in Spain, The Yellow Rain is a haunting ode to the power of memory, an elegy for a landscape and a way of life.” (Amzon.com).

8. Tarnished Beauty: A Novel by Cecilia Samartin

“Jamilet is a beautiful young woman marred by a shockingly gruesome birthmark. It spills over her back and down her legs, twisting and writhing like a hideous cape of blood, causing her to be shunned by the villagers of her rural Mexican town. In search of medical salvation, this angel with the devil's mark is finally driven to escape north and cross the border illegally to Los Angeles. After acquiring false documents, Jamilet finds work at a mental hospital, where she is assigned to look after Señor Peregrino, an elderly man from Spain who is as disagreeable as he is mysterious. Jamilet is given strict orders to keep her distance, but when he cleverly snags possession of her papers, he bargains to return them upon the condition that she listen to his story. Jamilet begrudgingly agrees, and Señor Peregrino takes her back to the days of his youth, when he embarked upon a mystical and romantic journey along the legendary Road to Santiago in Spain.Jamilet and Señor Peregrino forge a spiritual bond that is more healing to them both than modern medicine could ever be. In an inspiring story of redemption, faith and the enduring power of love, Samartin offers an enlightening perspective on the true meaning of beauty.” (Amazon.com).

9. The Angel's Game: A Psychological Thriller by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

“In this powerful, labyrinthian thriller, David Martín is a pulp fiction writer struggling to stay afloat. Holed up in a haunting abandoned mansion in the heart of Barcelona, he furiously taps out story after story, becoming increasingly desperate and frustrated. Thus, when he is approached by a mysterious publisher offering a book deal that seems almost too good to be real, David leaps at the chance. But as he begins the work, and after a visit to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, he realizes that there is a connection between his book and the shadows that surround his dilapidated home and that the publisher may be hiding a few troubling secrets of his own. Once again, Ruiz Zafón takes us into a dark, gothic Barcelona and creates a breathtaking tale of intrigue, romance, and tragedy” (Amazon.com)

10. All This I Will Give to You by Dolores Redondo

“When novelist Manuel Ortigosa learns that his husband, Álvaro, has been killed in a car crash, it comes as a devastating shock. It won’t be the last. He’s now arrived in Galicia. It’s where Álvaro died. It’s where the case has already been quickly closed as a tragic accident. It’s also where Álvaro hid his secrets.The man to whom Manuel was married for fifteen years was not the unassuming man he knew. Álvaro’s trail leads Manuel deep into one of Spain’s most powerful and guarded families. Behind the walls of their forbidding estate, Manuel is nothing but an unwelcome and dangerous intruder. Then he finds two allies: a stubbornly suspicious police lieutenant and Álvaro’s old friend—and private confessor—from seminary school. Together they’re collecting the pieces of Álvaro’s past, his double life, and his mysterious death. But in the shadows of nobility and privilege, Manuel is about to unravel a web of corruption and deception that could be as fatal a trap for him as it was for the man he loved.” (Amzon.com).

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itsbenedict · 3 years

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Two-Faced Jewel: Session 1-B

(Part B, for length- see Part A first.)

Zero and @eternalfarnham are Looseleaf and Saelhen du Fishercrown, a mothfolk animist and a half-elf conwoman whose travels take them to Blacksky University, where the discovery of an unknown magical artifact sets them on the path to discovering the secrets of a shattered world.

Saelhen du Fishercrown has just involuntarily bonded with a magical bracer under false pretenses. The deans of the School of Natural Arts and the School of Arcane Arts have reached a compromise- send Looseleaf (equipped with a wand of Locate Object) to keep an eye on her. None of this bodes well for her plan to skip town and pawn the thing- if she doesn't follow the magical arrow, it's going to be hard to explain.

So... she figures she might as well find out where it's pointing, and see if there's a way to remove it and/or shake her tail at the end.

Saelhen du Fishercrown:Saelhen is best served by seeming a bit silly, here. So I think she's going to follow the arrow directly and just straight-up cross over the fences. Looseleaf:Looseleaf fidgets a bit. "I mean, honor has to tarry for things like, classes, and stuff, occasionally, right?" "Not to mention, you still, like, need to do a whole interview." "And you can't just- like, at the least I'd want to get the campus news department involved, y'know, put this in the news and stuff, right?" Saelhen du Fishercrown:"I will be proud to answer any questions you have as we go, Madam Looseleaf." Saelhen approaches the campus fence and begins to struggle over it. Looseleaf:Looseleaf is only vaguely sure that this campus has anything like a newsletter, but something about this lady's insistency on walking off into the sunset as quickly as she can is making Looseleaf's antennae twitch, a little bit. "Uhhhhhh," Looseleaf says. "Okay, sure, then."

They take a pretty direct route to where the arrow's pointing. On the way, Looseleaf puts the screws to Saelhen by poking at her cover story.

Saelhen continues to roll crazy good on Deception, vs Looseleaf's History, and Looseleaf can't find any fault in Saelhen's staggeringly-detailed hand-calligraphied forgery.

Benedict I. (GM): So- it seems like this was written by someone who's at least read A Flawless History of the Elven Peoples cover to cover. There aren't any obvious contradictions, and a lot of supporting details- it's hard to believe someone could've just made all this up. Looseleaf: But, okay, wow, Looseleaf is... absolutely engrossed in this book. This is the good stuff. Benedict I. (GM): You're familiar enough with the vagaries of the biographical tradition that there could easily be creative reinterpretations or doctored facts in here, but you don't have any way to distinguish them from reality. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen keeps up a running commentary while they walk. Looseleaf: But presumably there is no mention of any kind of accession ritual? Saelhen du Fishercrown:Jack nothing! Looseleaf:And definitely nothing along the lines of a stone bracer being involved in some kind of ancestral spirit worship ritual.

Yeah, something's fishy here. But it's a long book, and it takes a long time to read, and before Looseleaf can get through it, the arrow starts to swerve.

The bracer seems to have lead them to Yoshimimoto Plaza, a wide pavilion in the middle of a ring of government buildings owned by the Oyashio Port Authority- the city's secular government. Saelhen recognizes the design as remarkably similar to the floor of the Ryokou Temple in Kanzentokai.

The Ryokou Temple, hundreds of years ago, was once a great hub of teleportation, where travelers from all over the world came and went. Thanks to teleportation magic, the concept of "cities" and "nations" and "regional governments" didn't make a lot of sense back then, and the world was something of a fragmentary monoculture featuring several different competing governments- distributed governments which claimed authority over their members, not over geographical territories.

(If you've read anything of the Terra Ignota series, they were basically like the hives.)

Two or three centuries ago, though, something called the Blackout occurred. Teleportation magic suddenly failed- planar travel broke, as did the teleportation hubs in each of the world's major cities. Suddenly, the world was shattered into geographically distant territories, which suddenly had to administer themselves without contact with the rest of the world. The world as it is today was shaped by the effects of this Blackout, and how people rebuilt.

Yoshimimoto Plaza, now an unremarkable empty square, used to be the city's teleportation hub.

Saelhen, following the arrow, touches the bracer to the center of this plaza, and all hell breaks loose.

The bricks underneath them all suddenly fall into a pit, landing about twenty feet down on a squishy surface that yields under the impact. Despite the cushioning, Saelhen takes 5 bludgeoning damage from the fall. (Looseleaf can feather-fall with her moth wings, so she's fine.)

So, what you've landed on... first and foremost, it smells. It smells of mildew and decay, of something sealed up and left to rot. The walls of the pit aren't dirt or stone- you're not sure what they are. They're gray-green and porous, interwoven with what might be vines. The floor has a ton of bricks on top of it, but where those bricks fell unevenly, you can see the floor is a mass of these squishy vines- or maybe tentacles, it's not entirely clear.

What's not fine is the old man who was feeding the pigeons on the plaza, who's broken his legs and is screaming for help. Also not fine are a couple of Oyashio Port Authority guards, who were chatting there and are now very perturbed.

Also not fine are the walls of this pit- they've got holes in them. Holes from which horrible little fleshy winged creatures are crawling:

These bloodsucking fiends claw their way out of the weird porous walls, and begin divebombing people with unholy shrieks.

The party rolls for initiative! Saelhen readies an action to intercept the enemy, and it's a good thing- she downs one of the stirges with a hidden blade when it gets close. (Looseleaf notes how suspicious it is that a noblewoman had a hidden blade up her sleeve.)

Looseleaf uses Rend Spirit on another one- a magical attack that uses animism as a blunt force weapon. The spirit of something is different from its soul- a living thing has a mind, but it also has a spirit, which is just sort of a semi-sentient magical handle on its body and the nature thereof. The spirit of something's muscles says "I want to expand and contract in response to nerve stimuli"- and Looseleaf can tell the muscles "No, you want to snfdkdfrksfjklafdr." The muscles' spirit gets real confused by this and tries to make its physical host do some snfdkdfrksfjklafdr, which makes no sense and results in chaotic flailing and tissue damage. Or, uh, "force damage", D&D's vaguest damage type.

She seizures the other stirge to death, but three more crawl their way out of the walls. Two go for the guards, who call for help and manage to take one down- but the third goes for the defenseless old man. Saelhen whiffs her thrown knife to intercept it, and the stirge buries its proboscis in the man's side and begins to drink.

Looseleaf: Holy shit, this woman is going to get people killed. Her nonsense- and probably confabulated- ancestral quest is going to get people killed.

Saelhen follows up by charging the stirge and slaying it- but four more stirges crawl out of the walls. There's no end to the damn things!

Looseleaf, who has wings, remembers them- and also remembers her starting gear! When do players ever do that? She gets out her 50 ft of rope and drops a rope ladder to help people escape.

The stirges are on the move, though- those not distracted by the guards go for Saelhen and Looseleaf. One of them gets through and impales Saelhen- who only had 6 hit points left after the fall damage, at level 1. It rolls well, and she goes down.

One of the guards grabs the old man and begins climbing out of the pit, just as reinforcements arrive with crossbows- but it's too late for Looseleaf, who gets herself divebombed by a stirge, which beats her AC and latches on. She tries to Rend Spirit it off her, but fails- and its next attack finishes her off. Meanwhile, Saelhen is still down in the pit being fed on, and rolls a critical failure on her first death save, counting as two failures! The party is completely KO'd by these horrible bloodsucking monsters they uncovered.

Luckily for them, they went down... in the middle of the administrative center of a highly populated city, surrounded by emergency services personnel who were actively trying to save them. As a result... they wake up in the hospital, not dead.

Looseleaf: "When the inquiries come in, I just want to make it clear, miss du Surplus," Looseleaf says in her hospital bed, "I do not know you and I do not know who you are and I am pretty sure that this is all your fault." Her antennae are swishing furiously, which is moth for 'fuck everything about this'. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "In my defense," says Saelhen, "I have no frigging idea why that bracelet summoned infinite bats, haha." "Ow."

It seems- from the chafing on her wrist- that someone tried to steal the bracer off her arm while she was unconscious, to no avail.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "If your university wants it back, you're maybe going to have to use a cleaver. Ha ha. You know, I've actually been to places where they chop off your hand for stealing." Looseleaf: "You better hope they don't decide to chop off your arm," apparently Looseleaf's got more of a vindictive bent to her than you'd expect! "You folk only have two arms." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Gonna be a super dishonorable wound." Looseleaf: "Yeah, we're dispensing with the whole, elegant elf politese thing entirely now, are we." "Not that it exactly made sense for a dignified hyper-polite elf to run around with a dozen daggers tied to them under the robes." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "For what it's worth, if you weren't dogging me so closely, I would have probably screwed off, tried to sell it, found out I couldn't and... I guess left town with the next circus. Amazing halfbreed with bad taste in jewelry." "But it's obviously not your fault, right? No idea your actions would lead to that." "Yeah, the mysterious maiden of the orient thing gets old after a while but so many people buy into it." "I am disowned, though, if it helps."

Saelhen pretty much spills all the beans to Looseleaf- and tries to lay out a plan for how they can both avoid taking the blame for this. Looseleaf is shocked that Saelhen has the audacity to try to keep up the con, after what happened- and horrified at the implication that she was somehow responsible for this.

Looseleaf:"You're thinking of trying to keep up the scam," Looseleaf says in disbelief. "By Harmony, you actually want to double down." Benedict I. (GM):"...suspects, wanted for...!" "...my students..." "...jured patients!" There's an argument happening outside your door. Looseleaf:"Oh, there it is," Looseleaf sighs. She folds her arms and looks up at the ceiling of the hospital room and resigns herself to be utterly annihilated by terrible inexorable fate.

The door opens, and in walks... uh. A nurse? It's a round tiefling woman dressed in... not so much a nurse's outfit as a sexy halloween costume of a nurse's outfit. It's... a lot. She seems to be playing the part of an actual medical professional, though, and after a quick checkup, asks which of their two guests they'd like to speak to first.

Who are these guests? Well, the first one is Provost Hamori, from the school. The drow lady. Something in Looseleaf's moth bones shudders as she enters the room and the trailing of her dress masks a skittering noise.

Luckily for them, the provost is very happy with them! Earth-shattering magical discoveries that unleash hordes of blood-sucking monsters on the populace of the city are not at all occasions to be mourned, in her opinion. There's so much new research to be done! It's exciting!

Plus, apparently, while they were out, refugees crawled their way out of the tentacle-floor in the pit! Supposedly descendants of people who disappeared from the face of the Jewel when the Blackout occurred. They'd managed to survive in that sort of horrible Stranger Things-ass upside-down horror-world for hundreds of years! Very exciting!

Provost Hamori reassures them that everything will be fine, and asks them to tell the truth to the nice police lady who's about to have a friendly chat with them.

Said police lady takes her turn to speak to the hospitalized party.

Benedict I. (GM): "My name is Stella Lastwave. I am captain of the Port Authority city guard. I am required to disclose this information." Then she leans in. "Would the two of you like to tell me what the fuck is happening in my city?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Good question! Benedict I. (GM): "Dozens of bloodsucking hellmonsters are menacing the citizens, a troop of ultraviolent feral children are wreaking havoc in the streets, and the Yoshimimoto Plaza is a ruined crater of necrotic energy!" "I have fourteen witnesses stating that you walked up to the middle of the plaza with a magic item, touched the ground, and unleashed hell on the innocent citizens of Oyashio!" "You're going to explain what the hell you thought you were doing, right now!" Looseleaf: “Um. It was an accident?” Looseleaf begins, and then hedges, because this intimidating cop lady is intimidating her, and all of her prepared lines of explanation have gone right out the window. Benedict I. (GM): "An accident." "Again."

Captain Lastwave is highly suspicious of Saelhen's story- as the de la Surplus family doesn't exist in any of the shipping records they have for the world's busiest port city. If they're not in the records, they either don't exist, or they're smugglers.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "We have... fallen on difficult times as of late. It is a stain on our honor that we have failed to contribute to Kanzentokai's glory, I realize." Saelhen sighs. "...it was my hope that I might restore our reputation by completing the succession, when the means were lost to us for so long." Benedict I. (GM): "Yeah? And your 'succession' means siccing demons on a city of innocent people?" Looseleaf: “They just assigned me to her as an anthropology assignment,” Looseleaf babbles. “I was supposed to follow her doing her rite thingy and write it down and turn it in as an essay for my self-directed project.” Whatever the splash radius of this negotiation is going to wind up being, Looseleaf is absolutely making sure that she ends up outside of it. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Strange are the ways of my ancestors. It is my hope that I will be allowed to serve the free citizens of Oyashio, as I have served those citizens long-imprisoned by the Blackout." Benedict I. (GM): "This is the seventh goddamn evil magic apocalypse that witch up in Blacksky has tried to wipe out Oyashio with! Even when it's not them, it's them, or-" "-what, are you talking about the murdercrazy teenagers running wild in the streets?" Looseleaf: Looseleaf looks at Fishercrown. ”Oh.” Saelhen du Fishercrown: "So I have been told." Looseleaf: "So that’s what the Provost meant by... whoof." "So, ‘we found humans on the other side of the portal’ was definitely a euphemism, huh.”

Thanks to Saelhen once again rolling absurdly high on Deception, Captain Lastwave lets them off with a warning, and leaves. They leave the hospital- or rather, the Temple of Karou, Heartlifter, God of Joy.

as you leave the Temple of Karou, you learn that the Temple of Karou comprises the upper floors of the building, 2 and up the first floor, run by the local bishop of Karou (Vermillion Hansen, the tiefling "nurse" you met) is the Pink Lips Pleasure House- an official government institution funded by the Ecumene of Joy. it is a brothel. the Ecumene of Joy is a little weird.

So with that crisis officially Not Their Fault, Looseleaf and Saelhen return to Blacksky, where the Provost- in exchange for keeping it Not Their Fault- will be having them conduct further research on this bracer- which has sprouted a new arrow, pointing off somewhere to the northeast.

Next session, we'll see what that research entails!

#twofaced jewel

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Eitr | Chapter 10

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Thanks for being patient with me guys. I know I’ve been sucking ass in terms of getting these chapters out at a frequent rate, but I really appreciate you all being so understanding with me. Hope you enjoy this part, and thanks again for the support.

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

ONE WEEK LATER

ELMENHAM, THE LONGHOUSE

Oswald threw an incredulous stare at Eivor upon hearing the news, unable to deny the doubt that was settling into his mind.

“The ealdorman of Wedenscire did this?” He asked. “Are you certain?”

Eivor shrugged, fidgeting with his axe as he relaxed in a chair.

“That’s what Gjuki tells me. There is still much information to be uncovered when it comes to the nature of this ambush, but based on what he has brought to me so far, I think it’s safe to assume that Aegenwulf was involved with the attack at the very least.”

The king placed his hands on his hips and began to pace around the room. “I just... I find it difficult to believe that he would act so brazenly -- especially in the middle of a war, no less. Aegenwulf has never been fond of the Danes, that is true, but he is a man of honor; a man of God. If he truly is behind the attack on Ravensthorpe, why would he do such a thing? What reason could he have to treat your people in such a way?”

Eivor sighed, tracing the edge of his blade. “I do not yet know, but his crimes go beyond what happened at Ravensthorpe. He also has my brother.”

That caught Oswald’s attention. “Aegenwulf has Sigurd? Is he holding him prisoner?”

“Not officially, but he may as well be. I have only heard fragments of the entire situation in Forangal, but Gjuki tells me Sigurd is slowly being brainwashed. He bears their sigil, and raises a blade in the ealdorman’s name. He obeys Aegenwulf’s every word, and apparently, has expressed some hesitation in terms of going along with my plans to assault the fortress. There are even whispers that he might convert to Christianity soon. They are turning him into a thrall.”

The Saxon king shook his head in sympathy, gazing blankly at the floor. “I’m... so sorry, Eivor. You’ve made it quite clear how much Sigurd means to you. I can’t imagine what it’s like watching a loved one lose sense of who they are. I wish I could make all this go away with a snap of my fingers, but we’ll need more men if we are to breach the walls of Forangal Castle.”

Eivor rose from his seat, sliding his axe back into its sheathe. “Have no fear, Oswald. We will have the forces we need soon enough. I have just finished securing an alliance in Eurvicscire. A couple more, and we should be ready to get Sigurd back.”

“Good. In the meantime, I will do all I can to prepare. A fragile peace hangs over East Anglia, but if there’s any chance we can save your brother, I’ll be there when you call for me. So will Valdis.”

“Thank you, Oswald.” Eivor said sincerely. “I know I’m asking a lot, but if we don’t rescue Sigurd from Forangal, he could end up dead. Or worse.”

“I understand. This is not something we can simply let go. If Aegenwulf really is at the heart of all this, we must bring him to justice. He has the blood of many innocents on his hands, and that cannot go unpunished.”

Oswald strolled back to his throne, finally having a seat after a long day of work.

“Carry on with your plans, Eivor. I will inform Valdis of what is to come. In the meantime, do your best to keep your head high. I know these are trying times, but Sigurd is going to need your strength if his situation is truly as bad as Gjuki reports.”

Eivor gave him a nod, making his way out of the longhouse. “I know, Oswald. And I will. I’m not giving up on him yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT NIGHT

FORANGAL CASTLE, SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Dragging a small stone along the edge of his sword, Sigurd sharpened the blade underneath the pale moonlight as he sat by the window, continuously checking to see if Gjuki had lit the brazier yet.

It had been about a week or so ever since he began searching for Algar’s hidden crypt, and with no further updates to inform Sigurd of what was going on, the man couldn’t deny that he was starting to grow anxious.

What if something had happened to Gjuki? What if he had been caught? What if all this was for nothing? What would he do?

The last thing Sigurd wanted was to think about the possible outcomes that could arise if their plan was foiled, but the thoughts continued to creep into his mind regardless. There were so many risks at hand and so many lives to consider, that he was beginning to wonder if all their effort was doomed to end in futility.

After all, they were heavily outnumbered in this part of England. Aside from Gjuki and his men, Sigurd really had no one else to rely on in Wedenscire. Of course, he had the support of Aegenwulf’s children to back him up, but in the face of true monarchy, he doubted that their approval of him would mean much to the ealdorman in the end.

Still, he supposed there was no use in worrying until he had a solid reason to believe something was amiss. Gjuki had already proven himself to be a skilled warrior in the past, and with Eivor waiting just beyond the horizon to bring Aegenwulf to justice, Sigurd remained confident in the fact that they would reunite someday.

Though, of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t frightened.

“...Sigurd?” A man suddenly said from behind the door, their gruff voice muffled by its material. “Are you in there?”

The viking placed his sword down and walked over to the entrance, straightening his tunic along the way.

“One moment.”

Swinging the door open with a firm pull, Sigurd paused in surprise when he saw an unexpected face greeting him from the other side, admittedly confused about their presence here.

“Thegn Raedan?” He said. “Is there something you need?”

The nobleman took a moment to observe the Norse in front of him, flicking his eyes up and down.

“So...” Raedan replied quietly, not wanting to wake Forangal’s people, “you’re Sigurd the Lone-Wolf. I apologize for the abrupt visit -- especially at such a late hour -- but I wanted to speak with you face-to-face. After all, I don’t think you and I have had the chance to sit down and have a proper conversation yet, have we?”

“No, we haven’t.”

The Saxon quirked a brow at him. “...May I come in?”

Sigurd stepped to the side, allowing him entry. “Of course, my lord.”

Walking into the dimly-lit chamber, Raedan strolled towards the window and leaned against the wall beside it, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword as Sigurd closed the door behind him.

“So,” the viking said, “what did you wish to speak about?”

Raedan was quiet for a second. “...Well, a few things. But mainly, my wife. Moira. You’ve met her a handful of times by now, haven’t you? I know she’s been giving you some trouble since we first arrived, and I’m sorry about that. She is a good woman, but she’s also very protective. And I fear that the history between our people and yours has been anything but peaceful.”

The viking crossed his arms. “I assume her distrust towards me isn’t without reason.”

The Saxon nodded. “And you’d be correct. I’ll spare you the details, but... just know that she lost her own mother to the vikings. Many years ago. It’s the main reason her father arranged a marriage between the two of us. He wanted to secure an alliance with my family in order to drive the Danes out of their lands. It worked in the end... but at a great cost.”

Sigurd’s tone softened with empathy. “...I’m sorry to hear that. I know how it feels.”

“I imagine we all do, nowadays. Unfortunately. It’s rare to find someone who has evaded the tragedy of this war, and even rarer to find someone who hasn’t been changed by it. But I digress...”

Raedan approached Sigurd, lowering his voice so that it was barely above a whisper.

“May I ask you something, Lone Wolf?”

The Norseman nodded. “Certainly.”

“...From what I understand, you’re quite close to Aegenwulf, aren’t you?”

Sigurd shook his head. “Not particularly, no. In fact, I hardly know anything about him.”

“Is that so? Well, I must admit, that’s somewhat of a surprise. I simply assumed you were friends since he’s allowed you to stay here. Most Danes that cross paths with Aegenwulf end up with a severed head.”

“It was mostly his children who influenced his decision to spare me,” Sigurd explained. “Initially, Aegenwulf was going to have me executed.”

Raedan chuckled softly. “Ah, yes. That’s more what I expected. Still, it doesn’t sound like the Aegenwulf I knew all those years ago. He’s always been a stern bastard, mind you, but... I feel as if he’s changed lately. And not for the better.”

Sigurd recalled what Edric told him. “Well, he did lose one of his sons.”

“Aye. Gareth. I heard about that. Such a horrible death, and one that I fear has left Aegenwulf in a perpetual state of despair. He always puts on a smile when he’s around me, but I can’t help but feel as if it’s no more than a facade.”

The viking picked up on his tone. “You’re worried about him?”

“I am. That’s why I came to you. I hate to talk about a man behind his back, but I thought you might know something that could help. Seems he’s keeping secrets from everyone these days, though.”

Sigurd couldn’t hide the sharpness in his voice. “Not everyone.”

“Oh? You have someone in mind?”

The Norseman sighed out of hesitance, somewhat reluctant to answer the question. Part of him trusted Raedan to handle information like this with an objective mind -- he seemed quite rational, after all -- but the other part regretted saying anything in the first place.

Still, he wondered if it’d be best if someone from outside of Forangal knew the reality of the situation. Sigurd wasn’t willing to open up to Raedan about everything just yet, but... maybe it could’ve helped if one of Aegenwulf’s oldest allies had the gist of what was going on.

He only prayed he wasn’t wrong.

“...It’s Algar.” Sigurd finally confessed.

Raedan furrowed his brow. “Algar? You mean Aegenwulf’s housecarl? What about him? Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Nothing specific,” he lied, “but it doesn’t take much to see that he’s influencing Aegenwulf’s way of thinking -- and not in a good way.”

Strangely enough, the other man didn’t seem too shocked. “Yes... I’ve heard the folks in this castle whispering about him. Edric’s mentioned him a few times as well. I get the impression that no one here is really fond of him, and now I’m starting to suspect there’s more to it than mere speculation.”

“Indeed. Everyone I’ve met so far has called him a snake. Perhaps it’d be worth keeping an eye on him--”

Sigurd came to an abrupt pause, suddenly noticing a lone flame glowing in the distance. It appeared to be coming from the pier just as Gjuki said it would, and he could’ve sworn he saw someone moving around in the shadows.

It must’ve been him.

“Sigurd?” Raedan said, pulling the viking from his thoughts. “Is... everything alright?”

The bodyguard brought his gaze back to the nobleman, quickly conjuring up an excuse.

“Erm, f-forgive me, my lord. I hate to cut our conversation short, but I just remembered I have an important matter to take care of. I’m afraid it can’t wait. If you’ll excuse me...”

Raedan nodded, giving him a casual wave. “Of course, Sigurd. Do what you must, and thank you for lending your ear to this old dog. I’ll keep in mind what you said about Algar, and I think we’d both do best to observe his every move. In the meantime, keep Aegenwulf’s children safe, understand? I don’t know what’s going on with his housecarl, but those little rascals don’t deserve any harm.”

“Understood. You have my word.”

The Saxon began heading for the exit, satisfied with the information he gathered. “Very good. I’ll see myself off, then. Take care of yourself, Lone Wolf. This place is far from safe, and I fear it’ll stay that way for quite some time.” He gave him one last glance.

“Until we meet again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE PIER

Tugging his hood further down his face, Sigurd stuck to the path as he navigated his way through the darkness, doing his best to stay concealed in the overwhelming blackness of the night.

So far, he had yet to notice anyone tailing him through the wilderness, and the foliage around him remained calm with inactivity, but he couldn’t seem to fight off the sense of dread that was crawling underneath his skin.

It just felt... ominous out here. There was too much silence; too much stillness. The world was devoid of any life during this time of day, and it didn’t reflect the same atmosphere Sigurd experienced when he went hunting with Edric at all.

Perhaps it was just nerves, he thought. The night always seemed to draw out a certain type of fear from people’s hearts, and the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be out here in the first place certainly didn’t help.

His mind may have been racing with about a thousand different thoughts at the moment, what with all the anxiety that was building up in his chest, but he had to remind himself to stay calm.

Panicking would only make him stand out more after all, and he couldn’t afford to be caught.

“...Gjuki?” Sigurd whispered cautiously, quietly approaching the pier as he stepped into the brazier’s circle of light. “Gjuki, are you there?”

There was no response.

“Gjuki,” He repeated a bit louder, starting to grow concerned. “It’s me, Sigurd. You can come out.”

Still, he received no answer.

Where was that damned bard? He wondered. Had Gjuki been forced to flee prematurely due to some sort of threat? Or had Sigurd simply mistaken this flame as his signal?

He assumed the fire had been lit by Gjuki, considering that this pier was abandoned. No one else had any reason to make use of this place, and the timing of its appearance had to be more than just a coincidence.

Though, in spite of all that, the bard remained nowhere to be seen. There was no trace of Gjuki lying around the vicinity, and if Sigurd looked closely enough at the wooden floor of the pier, he could’ve sworn he saw some type of red liquid staining its surface.

Wait a minute.

Was that...?

“Hello, Lone Wolf.”

Whirling around at the sudden voice, Sigurd barely had any time to react before he felt the sharp sting of an armored fist bashing him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground.

He heard a group of footsteps swarming him as soon as he hit the floor, and within the blink of an eye, a pair of men had grabbed him by the arms, restraining him in their grasp.

“Hold him down!” A familiar voice bellowed over the commotion.

Sigurd struggled violently in their grip and desperately attempted to break free, only to receive a firm kick to the stomach. His head was still spinning from the initial punch, and now, his organs felt as if they were about to climb up his throat too.

“Stay still!” One of the men barked, shoving Sigurd’s face into the ground as he bent the man’s arms behind his back. But the viking wasn’t done fighting yet.

Despite being somewhat dazed from the attack, Sigurd wrestled even harder with the guards and let out an aggressive grunt, trying to weaken their grasp.

Before he could resist their seizure any further however, a metallic scrape suddenly reached his ears, forcing him to bring his attention to the dagger that was now kissing the flesh on his throat.

“Move one more muscle,” his captor hissed, “and I’ll plant this little beauty straight through your eye.”

Sigurd glared at the man on the other side of the blade, instantly recognizing their face.

“...Algar.”

The housecarl grinned widely, leaning in closer to him as he pulled his hood back. “Well, well. If it isn’t the blue-eyed demon. I had a feeling you would turn up sooner or later, Sigurd. I’m so glad to see you again.”

Sigurd ignored the man’s taunts, focused entirely on the absence of his friend. “Where’s Gjuki? What have you done with him?”

Algar raised a brow. “Oh, you mean the bard? There’s no need to worry about him, mate. I assure you, he’s receiving the exact treatment he deserves.”

The viking glowered at the malevolence in his tone, horrified to imagine what Gjuki could’ve been going through at the moment.

“I’ll kill you for this, you dog...!” Sigurd growled through clenched teeth.

The Saxon offered nothing but a chuckle in response. “You’ve certainly got a fire in you, Lone Wolf. There’s no denying that. I almost... respect it in a way. But unfortunately, I doubt you’ll be doing anything in your position.”

Algar grabbed Sigurd by the hair, yanking his head upwards from the ground with a hard tug.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure out what you and your friend were doing? How blind do you think I am? I warned you what would happen if you defied me, Sigurd, but it seems my threats fell on deaf ears. A shame, really, seeing as how you would’ve made a great warrior. All you had to do was follow our fucking orders. Now though, I’m afraid your fate rests in Aegenwulf’s hands.”

Algar let go of the viking’s hair and stood up from the ground, giving his men a series of commands.

“Tie him up, and bring him back to the castle. I’ll inform the ealdorman of what has transpired here. In the meantime, make sure this one stays put in the dungeons. I don’t want him to see even a sliver of sunlight until Aegenwulf permits it.”

“Right away, sir.” They answered in unison.

“Good. Then our business here is concluded. Oh, and Sigurd?” Algar shot a smirk at him. “Have no fear. I’ll personally see to it that your friend Edric hears of this. Can’t wait to see what he thinks.”

Sheathing his weapon, Algar swiftly walked over to his horse and prepared to return to the castle, dousing the brazier’s fire with a splash of water from the river.

Meanwhile, his men wrapped a cloth around Sigurd’s mouth and secured him with an abundance of ropes, ensuring that the man couldn’t move. Afterwards, they hauled him up from the ground and threw him over the back of one of their mounts, rendering him completely defenseless.

Sigurd was terrified right now. He had no idea what Algar intended to do with him, nor if Aegenwulf would spare him a second time -- and considering the fact that Gjuki could’ve been dead, he assumed he had lost his only chance to discover what the housecarl was doing behind closed doors.

Everything was going to hell.

Not only would he be a prisoner of Algar’s now, his identity would also be exposed to everyone in Forangal. They would learn his real name, and finally hear the truth of his cryptic background. Edric would believe that his clan was responsible for the death of his brother, and the trust that they had built thus far would crumble into ash.

Blood of Tyr, Sigurd thought to himself. What on earth had done? Would he even survive this next week?

How was he going to contact Eivor now? Were Gjuki’s people aware of what was happening? Surely, Eivor would realize something was amiss with the bard’s disappearance.

Or perhaps... he would just assume they were dead. Hope was in short supply nowadays due to everything going on in the war, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to believe that Sigurd had been killed whilst in the hands of Saxon enemies. Eivor probably had many other things to worry about at the moment, and the viking could only pray that his brother would be vigilant enough to notice that something had gone wrong.

Otherwise... Sigurd didn’t know what else he would do. There weren’t many chances to escape in a situation like this, and the odds were heavily stacked against him.

Right now, his only option seemed to be compliance. He imagined his stay with Algar would simply worsen if he fought back, and any defiance would’ve surely swayed Aegenwulf towards a less forgiving approach.

Edric was the one person who had any hope of changing the ealdorman’s mind, and just like before, Sigurd had no choice but to rely on the young man’s help.

He was the only one who could’ve saved him now, and unless his view of the viking changed after hearing Algar’s report, Sigurd hoped he would be able to see reason.

There was something deeper connecting the two of them, and now, after all this time, he would finally see for himself if it ever actually meant anything.

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #male oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

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