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taramikealson · 3 years

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Just a sort of canon-ish Drabble that I got a little carried away with.

Set after the events in TVD excluding the “Hell” storyline in Season 8, the miracle babies, Caroline dating Alaric, Marcel taking the serum, and a few minor changes that are hopefully recognizable.

He could feel the irritation crawl along his skin like a serpent slithering itself up and around a tree. With the irritation, came anger.

Sometimes he enjoyed the challenge that came with others riffling with his plans. He has theories as to why he does but deep down he knows the true reason. His wolf. The thrill and excitement that came with the thought of the hunt. Predators such as wolves are born hunters who thrive on such games.

But, he is not only a wolf. No, he is a strategist- a remarkable one at that. There had been no plan, no despicable machination of his that hasn’t had a fail-safe.

Except for this one.

He had gotten himself into a situation where he finally became comfortable again after nearly ten centuries of running. And when he got comfortable, he began to lose his edge.

After successfully re-stabilizing the Quarter and allowing his brother to take a leading role in the peace treaty between the factions, New Orleans fell quiet. Of course, every so often there’d be a dispute between a couple of the factions that rose a concern within his elder brother, but that was always unavoidable. Werewolves, witches, and vampires alike have fought for centuries, that type of violence and warfare doesn’t automatically stop with a peace treaty. His brother may hope for that positive outcome but Klaus had always been a realist. And, unfortunately as he predicted, the peace was temporary.

“Niklaus, this is not a situation that we should ignore.” His brother’s voice sounded through the phone that he had pressed against his right ear.

No, this isn’t something we should ignore. He thinks, tentatively keeping his lips pressed together to keep himself from speaking of something that perhaps his brother shouldn’t know.

“Should Marcel make a regretful move, this treaty we’ve formed could very well be null and void.”

If Marcel were to make a move, it may start a gruesome war between the vampires and werewolves. If Klaus knew Marcel well enough, his former right-hand man is most likely planning something rather ill-conceived. He hasn’t theorized whether the harsh consequences will weigh the heaviest on either the vampires or werewolves, or even the whole Quarter all together. No matter what they may be, he’s most certain his brother won’t be quite pleased with what he has planned.

Although Klaus once held a tight hold over the vampires, it came to his attention that Marcel continued to be respected amongst both the day and nightwalker community. Thus, why in the time of tension, they clamber to him in search of a leader to choose the decisions that will benefit them. Which is why Klaus has chosen to keep the werewolves as an ally. The werewolves have proven to be loyal to Hayley and his daughter because they both are seen as part of the pack, which unnerves Klaus but gives him the relief that those wolves will protect his daughter. The connection that Hayley holds with those werewolves is bound to be manipulated, might as well be him to do so in a beneficial way. For both the stability of New Orleans and the safety of his daughter.

“Brother, do you understand me?”

His shoes crunch against the small layer of gravel underneath his feet.

“Yes.” Klaus tries his best to keep the irritation out of his voice but his answer still sounds short.

The hybrid immediately ends the call, noting that the conversion was to be continued in person. While pocketing his phone, he takes a few steps further along the rooftop and then steps up onto the ledge, giving him a grand view of the Quarter from a few buildings away.

A rough shuffle and a few voices could be heard from a little farther down the alley below him, but he didn’t much care about the happenings within the alley. From what he could hear, there were two men speaking in hushed tones, their heartbeats slower and more quiet indicating their undead nature. The fast and erratic heartbeat that was a few paces in front of them was a clear indication to Klaus of what the vampires below were planning to do.

His lips turned up slightly. He, himself, was feeling a bit peckish, perhaps he’ll grab a quick bite before he returns home to his disapproving older brother.

The vampires eventually closed the woman in, murmuring to her about where she was going and why she was out at such a time. He found it interesting that she stayed quiet. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the women would say something whether it be a plea to let them go or an angry curse.

Wanting to stay out of the house- more like away from his brother- for as long as he can, he turned his head to look down the alleyway. If this ends to be unentertaining, he’ll most likely grab a drink at Rousseau’s.

There, he could see both the vampires crowd into the blonde woman’s space. She has her back pushed up against the rough brick.

“I don’t think it’s very safe for a lady like yourself to be out here.” The vampire states before his eyes transform and fangs replace his blunt teeth. Usually, this is when the victims begin to scream or mutter that modern saying, oh my, God. But the woman doesn’t seem as scared as a normal human would be.

“You’re making a mistake.” She murmurs and Klaus’ eyes widen a hair, recognizing the voice. But before he can think of anything else, the woman is thrusting a wooden stake into the vampire’s stomach.

The vampire doubles over and the other vampire goes to attack the human but he’s no match for Klaus’ speed. Without a second thought, Klaus appears before the vampire, shoving him back before he could get to the woman. The other vampire has now pulled the stake from his torso and was looking to kill but Klaus turned toward him.

“Enough.”

The vampire pauses but scowls at him, a look of disgust and anger apparent in his eyes. His hand rises and points to the human. “She stabbed me! She’s a tourist! Tourists are fair game-,”

“And you would be in the right if it weren’t for her being under my protection.”

The vampire looks a little surprised at Klaus’ declaration and is about to protest once more but Klaus beats him to it.

“Now, I suggest you scamper off to Marcel before I’m tempted to rid you both of your hands.”

Both vampires share a glance and Klaus continues to stand his ground confidently. Eventually, the vampires figure out that it’s probably best for them to avoid any conflict with an Original, the Original Hybrid no less. Thus, they both give the human one last threatening look before flashing away into the night.

With the vampires disappearance, Klaus had began to turn around and quip something sarcastic but his whole expression changes when Caroline’s knees give out. His hands come out at vampiric speed as he catches her by her upper arms and kneels down as he slowly lowers with her.

It’s then that he sees her clearly. Her hair isn’t as perfect as she normally used to keep it, almost like she hasn’t had access to the proper equipment. Her clothes were a little wrinkled and two small dark red dots bled through her white shirt indicating that a bandaged wound was leaking. Concern now flooded through him as his eyes connected with her face. It was as beautiful as ever but there was a deep exhaustion and a line of stress etched into her forehead. Oh how his heart now aches. He thinks that he hasn’t felt as worried for someone as he is with Hope, but yet here he is, holding her just enough so she doesn’t slump over.

He now realizes that she hadn’t just lost most of her strength, but had been keeping herself from showing any weakness towards those vampires. If he wasn’t so concerned with her health, he’d be praising her for her stubborn strength.

“Caroline, look at me, love.” He aides her by tilting her head up gently by her chin. Her eyes are tired and look so vulnerable.

She looks as if she’s about to say something but Klaus shakes his head. “Conserve your strength. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” If those words were spoken to anyone else, they’d have a right mind to be worried but she seemed to feel relieved. He takes that as permission to pick her up, holding her from underneath her legs and shoulders.

His thoughts of what his brother will think of him are completely wiped away when he races to his home. It’s quiet but he knows his brother is lurking somewhere. He’s not quite concerned about Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley’s absences. Ever since the incident between the werewolves and vampires, Hayley has taken it upon herself to help with the remaining pack. Freya is most likely working on another miracle to save this city’s peace and it’s no surprise that Rebekah is with Marcel.

Klaus contemplates taking Caroline to a guest bedroom but the closest one to his is farther than he’d like so he figures that taking her to his bedroom won’t be the worst idea. At least he’d be able to keep a close eye on her for the time being.

He sets her down gently to the dark grey covers and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. Klaus comes back out a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a couple different sizes of bandages. Caroline shifts a little and grazes her hand against the side of her torso where the wound was which seems to instantly sober her up. She lets out a small gasp and grimaces in pain. Her hand hovers over it as if it’d take the pain away. Klaus walks back over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, a few inches separating himself from her.

Extending his hand, his eyes travel up to her face seeking silently for any sign of rejection before pulling the edge of her shirt up to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. His hands slowly peel away the bandage and Klaus didn’t know what to expect but he hadn’t expect something quite as brutal as this. No, this was not a wound from an accident, this was intentional and by someone who was trying to harm Caroline. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable about this particular wound, or had been when he was human. By the sharp angles of the shape of the wound, he could tell it had been an arrow tip that pierced her skin. When he was human, Kol had been recklessly playing with his father’s bow and accidentally shot Finn in the shoulder. He had kept that arrow shaped scar for as long as he could remember. But just because Finn had survived, it only made Klaus more concerned.

By the tear of the wound, it seems to have been reopened due to stress. Although, he imagines that it’s good news that it’s not infected. Klaus is as gentle as he possibly can be when he pays the wet washcloth along her wound. She bites her lip hard and grasps his arm in a painful grip but he allows her to do so, hoping that if a fraction of his pain can dull hers, then so be it.

After a few moments, she slowly takes her hand away and he begins to clean around the wound.

“Klaus-,��

“Don’t.” He begins, “not now.”

His words come out a tad harsher than intended but she knows he’s just concerned and doesn’t know how to healthily deal with it like a normal human.

“I need you to listen just for once.”

“Caroline, let yourself rest before we speak of anything.”

She appreciated the notion that he valued her safety and well-being more than an explanation of why she showed up in his city as a human. But this couldn’t wait, for her safety and his own.

To truly get his attention, she places her hand on top of the one that was still cleaning the blood off her skin. It pauses its movements and he looks up to her.

“I- I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to use you for your contacts but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She hesitates to continue because after she asks, his involvement becomes concrete. Because she knows that he’ll help her. “I need a witch, someone powerful. Someone who can do a cloaking spell that can’t be broken by another witch.”

His face doesn’t express as much emotion as she thought it would but she doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing. He obviously seems to be contemplating something as his eyes bore into hers.

Setting aside the washcloth, he straightens out and takes a sleek black phone out of his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he clicks a few times on the screen and places the phone against his ear.

“Freya, I need you at the Compound immediately.” With that, he puts his phone away and reaches for a bandage. Taking the plastic off, he softly places it over her wound, pressing along the outside, securing it to her skin without causing her pain.

His eyes refocus onto hers and she spots the anger that has now manifested within those blue orbs. “Who did this?” He asks and Caroline Knew she should have known better than to think the wound wouldn’t show any foul play.

“Silas.” Klaus’ lips part in confusion. For all he knows, Silas had been put in a safe and thrown down the quarry. God, things got complicated since he’d left. Much more complicated than she would have liked.

“For a while he pretended to be Stefan. We didn’t know because we thought he could only mess with a couple people’s perspectives but turns out he’s a doppelgänger.” She mentally cringes when remembering how Silas continuously terrorized her and her friends. She also remembers how Silas had made everyone think he was dead when Stefan killed him but had used it as an out to chalk up another plan that revolved solely around revenge. Against her.

Caroline begins to pull herself up into a sitting position so she’s resting against the headboard and is thankful when Klaus helps her. “Before you came back, we thought Stefan killed Silas but he’d used some last resort spell and it gave him the perfect out to recollect himself.”

“I guess he waited for a few years for things to settle down and for us to be off our guard.Damon was as happy as he could be considering Elena, Bonnie was back, and Stefan and I were getting back on good terms. Silas approached me on the last day of my Senior year.” Klaus notices as she bites her lip and looks down at her hands that have begun to twiddle in slight nervousness. “Silas made me think we were making some kind of deal. I leave my friends behind and never go back to Mystic Falls, or he kills me and everyone I care about. I chose to leave.”

Swallowing, her eyes darted from her hands to Klaus’ face to gauge what he might have been thinking but he wasn’t showing any sign other than that he was just listening to her, allowing her to pour whatever worries she had onto him.

“I don’t know if he thought that I would just settle down in some other place to get the opportunity to know my whereabouts while he tried to kill my friends but he called negotiations off when I skipped the third town I went to. So, he went after me.” When the single tear fell from her eye, she was a little surprised at how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. “I told everyone that I was taking off for a little bit to go travel since I had finished college. I didn’t want them to try to find me and end up as one of Silas’ next victims.”

She pauses and wipes the stray tear away, trying to recollect herself. She must look like hell, crying would only make it worse. Caroline needed to man-up. There was no doubt that what Klaus had gone through with his father, or step-father, was worse.

Klaus leans forward and takes her hand into his, letting him drop a feather-light kiss along her knuckles. “You are safe. If I ever promise you anything, I will certainly promise you that.”

Caroline can’t help the small smile that forms on her face, knowing that he is being truly genuine. His lips turn up as well.

A small knock on the door interrupts them and Klaus rises from the bed. A taller dirty blonde woman stands in the doorway, analyzing both of them. Klaus crosses the room and pulls the woman further into the hallway, speaking to her in a hushed tone.

After a moment of back and forth conversation, they both advance into the room. Klaus pauses for a minute, watching as the woman approaches the side of the bed. She offers Caroline a reassuring smile that tells her she’s most likely a friend of Klaus’ or at least someone in his good graces.

“Caroline, right? I’m the older and wiser Mikealson sibling, Freya.” Caroline blinks for a moment and looks to Klaus in confusion. Although, she assumes what the woman, Freya, is saying must be somewhat true because all Klaus does is slightly roll his eyes in such a brotherly manner before turning towards the liquor tray.

“Niklaus tells me you need a little bit of a complex cloaking spell.” Caroline nods. Being that Freya must be a Mikealson, it is always safe to walk on eggshells around the ones she’s not very familiar with, no doubt the ones that she never knew about.

Freya turns towards the hybrid who was sipping his drink. “Will you fetch my grimoire and my herb bowl from the study, brother?” Klaus doesn’t seem all too eager to be ordered around but he does as asked and walks out of the room. Freya turns back towards Caroline and motions to the space when Klaus had sat before.

“May I?”

Caroline gives her a short nod and Freya smiles.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought all Mikealsons were kinda bordering on the ‘I don’t help anyone but my family’ ideology.” Caroline was going to be more subtle about it but she’s injured and doesn’t feel well, might as well rip off the band-aid.

Funnily enough, Freya laughs. “I’d agree with you but I’m quite aware of who you are.”

Now, that was surprising. Did Klaus say anything about her to his siblings? It didn’t seem like something he’d do. Her mouth opened to say something but she couldn’t find her words. It seems like Freya had an idea of what she was thinking and thought to correct her.

“I saw you when I entered my brother’s mind. If it weren’t under life and death circumstances I wouldn’t have done so. Trust me, I’ve already heard a mouthful from Niklaus.”

That made Caroline even a bit more nervous. Did this woman know everything about her and Klaus then? Had she watched some of their interactions? “How much do you know?” She asks.

“Just enough to know how important you are to my brother.”

That’s not cryptic at all. Caroline isn’t sure if that means Freya knows a little too much than she should or not but she imagines that she can’t push the woman any further than she’s willing so she shuts her mouth. And she also really doubts that Klaus is out of earshot, he can probably hear almost anything from the other side of the house so it’s best not to speak out of turn. Or maybe just not too much about him.

Speak of the devil, because he then walks through the door not even a few moments afterwards, carrying a grimoire and a small bowl with a few items in it that looked close to medical supplies.

He comes up behind his sister and sets her grimoire down on the bed and intentionally hands her the bowl, making her notice the extra supplies within. A sterile needle with surgical string and a couple other medical supplies. As he hands the bowl over to her, he murmurs, “perhaps you should also take a look at her wound, sister.”

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was a bit more concerned about the girl’s physical wound than the cloaking spell being down. Then again, both siblings knew that with all of the magic surrounding the Compound, it would take a highly skilled witch at least a couple hours to work through a location spell for anyone who was there.

Freya nods and takes the bowl from him. Klaus steps back and takes a seat directly across the room from the bed in one of the leather chairs, still allowing Caroline to see him.

The witch silently asks for permission to have a closer look at Caroline’s wound before pulling the new bandage away. Caroline watches Freya’s eyebrows furrow as she inspects the wound. Freya’s eyes look back up to her.

“Have you had this looked at before?”

Caroline shakes her head lightly. “But I tried to keep it closed.” Her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “You only learn so much in high school and college level health classes.” Freya understands the lightheartedness within the statement and offers her a smile.

“Well, it seems like you at least kept it clean.” Freya begins. “But I’ll need to stitch it up a little and possibly do a proper cleaning just in case. It’ll probably be easy to put you to sleep for that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrow at the lack of a surgical syringe. “Like a witchy anesthesia?”

Freya seems to enjoy her lack of magical knowledge and find amusement in it. “Something along those lines.”

“You’ve done it before, right?”

The witch lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but I can certainly do a demonstration.” Her head turns over her shoulder towards her younger brother but Klaus seems unimpressed.

It was a little reassuring seeing him naturally take up his brotherly role. She hadn’t ever really seen that side of him and never saw him actually interact with his siblings before. It was nice to know that even the Original Hybrid could act like a typical brother once in a great while.

“I promise it’s safe and when you wake, your wound will be patched right up.” Freya reassures and Caroline nods. She knows that Klaus will go just about as far as he possibly can to keep her safe which tells her that Freya is trustworthy. So, she doesn’t think about it too long before she murmurs, “okay.”

———————————————-

Upon breaking the fog of sleep, she doesn’t feel as weak as she had before Freya had put her to sleep which was a good sign. She begins to lift her head off the pillow and suddenly feels a warm hand help her sit up.

Looking over, she sees Klaus hovering beside her. “Easy, love. No need to tear your new sutures.”

His words remind her and she looks down, pulling her shirt up and the bandage aside to see her wound stitched up neatly with a strange light paste spread on top.

“My sister assured me that her little remedy,” he nods towards the paste on her wound, “should have healed you just enough to allow you to shower, if you wish to do so.”

The thought of a steaming hot shower is so appealing to her right now. “God, yes.” She sighs. It’s been so long since she’d been in any type of shower that wasn’t in a hotel or had some sort of modern day technology.

It seems Klaus enjoys her enthusiasm and takes it as a good sign for her health. “Would you like me to fetch my sister to help you?”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She silently thinks that should anything happen, he’ll most likely be listening in on her. It was a little creepy to think about but also made her feel a tad safer knowing that he’d always make sure she was safe.

He respects her choice and helps her stand. Waiting a moment to make sure she gets her bearings, he keeps a hand on the small of her back and leads her towards the entrance of the bathroom. She silently thanks him before he closes the door to a crack after her.

Looking around the bathroom, she’s not surprised about how lavish it is and how neat it’s kept. She never really took Klaus as the person who kept his personal space in disarray. As clean as it was, it still held the feeling of being used daily. One of the medicine cabinets was left cracked open a little, a small tin and classic shaving knife was left on top of a white cloth, and a bottle of cologne sat on the counter. If Caroline had possibly thought of a bathroom Klaus would ever call his, this is probably as close to it as she’d get.

Caroline decides that if she takes too long, Klaus may think something is wrong so she strips quickly and turns the water on. She’s pleased when it takes a whole couple seconds for the water to warm. Stepping into the shower, she sighs at how good it feels. The water runs down her, rinsing away all of the dirt and grime from the past couple days.

After getting her hair wet, she reads the minimalist labels on the three bottles that sat on the shower shelf. Thank God they weren’t the typical soaps that guys used nowadays. She shivers at the thought of two-in-one products. These were just simply packaged products that were obviously a little more on the manlier side of things but it’ll have to do.

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner in her curls, she almost felt a weight lift off of her. Once she finished up basking in the warmth of the shower, she turned the dial off and stepped out. Grabbing the white towel, she wraps it around herself and tries to dry up as much as she can.

Upon walking back over to the bathroom counter she notices that she can’t exactly wear her old clothes but she does choose to wear her bra and underwear again. Hopefully she can ask Klaus to rile her up something for her to wear.

When she exits the bathroom, she immediately notices that the French doors that had led to the balcony outside were now closed with the drapes shut and the sliding door to the bedroom was almost shut all the way. She could hear a little movement in the next room over and assumed it was Klaus.

Stepping further into the bedroom, she sees that she doesn’t even need to ask Klaus for clothes because there’s a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt folded neatly on the bed. It was also accompanied with a hairbrush. Her heart warms at the thoughtfulness but then again, Klaus had always put thought behind a lot of things that involved her.

She’s quick to take the precious privacy that he allowed her and got dressed.

He finally emerged when she was finishing up brushing her hair. He held a plate of food and a glass of water. Caroline places the hairbrush down and into the drawer of the nightstand before scooting herself further back on the bed to give him enough space. Klaus sits down on the edge of the bed and places the glass of water on the nightstand, then handing Caroline the plate. At the sight of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and assortment of fruit on the plate, she was almost worried her stomach would growl. She doesn’t even remember when she last had a proper meal.

“Thank you.” She murmurs when he hands her a clean fork.

His smile is genuine and tells her that he doesn’t find helping her to be a chore. When he watches her carefully as she began to eat, she knew that if he’d done so a few years back she’d find it extremely creepy, but now she’s come to find out that it’s his way of communicating his reassurance. He’s silently telling her that he’s here, he’s going to protect her.

“I’ll leave you to eat. Perhaps get a few more hours of sleep, it’s only a quarter after six.” He states as he rises from the bed. His eyes drift for a moment down to her torso where her wound is covered by her shirt. Something in his eyes changes and he leans down close to her head. She pauses as his lips softly connect with her forehead. He pulls back a little and looks deep into her eyes.

“So long as I have a say in the matter, Silas will never get close enough to touch you again.” He then rises to his full length and exits the room.

——————————————

After eating and getting a couple more hours of sleep she’d ventured out of Klaus bedroom to find him again. When she did he was insistent about getting her at least a week’s worth of clothing for herself. She didn’t make a second objection, knowing that either way Klaus will get her clothing, it was just a matter of if she’d pick it out or have some compelled vampire do it. Thus he’d taken her to a few local shops. In typical guy fashion, Klaus hadn’t been too animated about watching her pick clothing out. In most of the stores, they’d parted ways- her towards anything that caught her eye and him to any empty seat he could find.

Caroline tried to be as time efficient as possible knowing that even a man who has waited a thousand years to break his curse, he still had his limits of patience. As much as she thought he dreaded chaperoning her, because he refused to have a possibility of another vampire thinking they could harm her, he still offered her considerate smiles. There were a few instances where she could feel the heat of his gaze as she walked out of the dressing room. She didn’t know what to make of it and brushed it aside.

This is hopefully the first and last time Caroline thinks this, but she is thankful that Klaus has the ability to compel vampires. He had a vampire, she forgot her name, retrieved Caroline’s brand new clothes and took them to the Compound so they could continue to stroll down a few of the streets.

If Caroline hadn’t spent the last couple years skipping from city to city, she thinks she may have been a little more amazed at the New Orleans architecture. But still, it was truly stunning. She liked that Klaus didn’t directly guide her but just allowed her to wander. Soon, they’d found themselves in a bar. The bartender that approached them seemed very familiar with Klaus and when he’d introduced her to Camille, the woman was welcoming.

It didn’t escape her notice how Camille had laid eyes on Klaus for a few seconds too long before walking off to let her and Klaus enjoy their drinks.

Caroline smiles a little at the situation. “You know, she likes you.”

His lips turn up and he sips his whiskey.

“You may not be aware of this, Caroline, but you are on the exceedingly short list of women who have rejected me.” His head turns towards her with a smug smirk. “You should feel lucky, most of those women are dead.”

Caroline rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “So lucky.” She breathes and looks away from him. His chuckle is rich and deep, making her crack a small smile.

“Quite a number of women find me charming, you surely had at one time.”

The statement brings out an instinct in her to say something snarky or quip something a little harsh but she chooses not to. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip as she lowers her gaze to the vodka soda. She doesn’t exactly know what to do. All she’s ever done with him was constantly impolitely reject him with statements about who he killed or what bad things he’s done.

Her eyes go up to see the bartender come out from the kitchen in the back. The girl gives them a small glance and Caroline offers her a friendly smile. Camille seems a little surprised by Caroline’s friendliness, almost as if she was expected to be ignored or brushed off. Caroline has no doubt that the crowd that Klaus would spend time with would be most certainly supernatural, thus their lack of interest in simple human servers. Although, Klaus seemed a little keen of her. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. If it was a few years ago, she would have rather drowned before admitting that she was a tad jealous when it came to Klaus, but she was older and more mature. So, yeah. Maybe she felt a little jealous that the girl’s feelings towards Klaus could be mutual. But she also wasn’t going to be spiteful of it.

Stirring the small straw that floated in her untouched drink, she murmurs, “If you want to go talk to her, there’s nothing stopping you.” Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

Even now without her vampire senses, she could still feel his fiery gaze in the side of her head. He lets out a low chuckle.

“Camille is a close friend of my family. She’s sacrificed quite a bit to aid my family’s survival and I’ve repaid her loyalty with protection.” He begins. “Our relationship may have developed into somewhat of a complicated friendship since she’s known me, but that is simply it.”

Caroline turns her head towards him and his eyes are as clear blue as ever. “But by no means do I wish to be in anyone else’s company other than yours.”

There’s a brief moment between them where both of their solid barriers were dissolved and their eyes just simply met. They said nothing but their eyes communicated plenty. But, that moment was only brief.

The bell over the door to the bar chimes when it opens, the noise from the street could be heard for a moment before the door closes again. Both Klaus and Caroline are shaken out of their moment when a voice chimes.

“Now, this is interesting.”

Caroline is a little taken aback even though she should have expected to come across another Original. Hell, she wouldn’t doubt that the whole Mikealson clan was crawling around New Orleans at this point. It seemed to be almost like a hub for them.

Klaus is the first to turn in his seat and greet his sister. “Sister, a bit of a surprise to see you on this side of the river. Has Marcel finally bored you enough?” His tone has dramatically changed from the genuine one before to something more smartass-y.

When Caroline scoots on her stool a little to look more properly at the female Original, she notices how annoyed Rebekah gets because of Klaus’ comment.

“No, I came to visit my niece. Whom, in which, has noticed your lack of presence.” Rebekah then gives Caroline a disapproving glare. “But I think I know why.”

Klaus sighs quietly and Rebekah is about to say something but pauses. Her eyes scan Caroline carefully. After a moment, her eyes widen and she flashes towards Caroline, aggressively yelling, “who the bloody hell gave you the cure!?”

Caroline stumbles out of her stool as fast as she can and takes a few steps back. Rebekah is about to get into her face again but Klaus zips in front of her, blocking her way to Caroline.

“I-,” Caroline doesn’t know what to say or how to even start to calm down the Original. She’s not as strong as she once was. One little neck snap and she’ll be done.

“Rebekah.” Klaus growls in warning, earning a glare from his sister before her gaze goes back to the blonde.

“Why do you get the choice? You, of all people?”

Caroline is beyond grateful that no one else was in the bar because she’s sure that there could have been a bloodbath if there were.

Klaus is about to say something but Rebekah beats him to it.

“How is it that you get to have a normal life?”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Caroline. Something emotional.

“You think I want this? Do you think I chose to have a normal life where I’d meet some regular guy, marry him, have a few kids, and work for the rest of my life?” Rebekah frowns and Klaus turns his head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t. I don’t want that life and I didn’t choose to become human again. So, blame me all you want for being a bitch to you or whatever, but don’t blame me because you didn’t get the human life you’ve always wanted.”

It seems like Caroline’s words have an effect on Rebekah because she shrugs her brother’s hand away from her and takes a step back. Caroline can’t exactly know for sure but she thinks that maybe Rebekah can somewhat relate to her. Rebekah had always wanted to be human but was stuck as a vampire. Now, Caroline wants to be a vampire but is stuck as a human.

When Rebekah takes that step back and Klaus is sure she’s not going to try to attack Caroline again, he fully turns his body towards the blonde human. She can’t gauge exactly what he’s thinking but it could have been a cross between surprise and sympathy.

The younger Original looks almost a little guilty when she casts a glance towards Caroline but instead doesn’t say anything before flashing away. As the light breeze wafts over them from Rebekah’s exit, Klaus takes a step forward towards her.

“Caroline.”

She shakes her head. “I-,” her eyes shut for a moment. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

She fully expects Klaus to struggle with her request but he quickly proves her wrong and gives her a short nod in understanding.

————————

Caroline’s fingers drum silently against the cold metal of the railing she’s stood behind. The city has now been cascaded in darkness but people still mull about on the street beneath her. The very idea of the liveliness of this city brings a smile to her face. The neon lights of shops and street lamps were now lit up to shine down on the passerbyers below, their drunken ramblings slightly muffled due to her human hearing.

She finds that Klaus was right. There was something about this city that not only attracted the party-seeking humans, but also the darker creatures who lurked in the shadows. She may not be a vampire any longer but that doesn’t mean the connection she holds with the darkness was shaken. There is not just history in this city, it is the home of the supernatural. Caroline bets that if she were still a vampire, she could have spotted a couple dozen supernaturals that had walked by in the past thirty minutes she's been up on Klaus’ balcony.

She only hopes it doesn’t attract a different kind of supernatural.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sense movement just as a figure joins her. Their hand grasps the railing casually and when they sigh, a white cloud escapes their lips from the continuing dropping temperature of the night. He doesn’t attempt to make a move to slide closer to her and she appreciates the space he’s giving her, along with the time of silence.

As they stood in silence, listening to the noises of the city before them, she could recall how nervous she used to get during long periods of silence. She had always tried to fill them up with mindless chatter or something to that nature. But now? She finds that she sort of enjoys it. His presence may be a little nerve-wracking at times of tension but, as of late, Caroline seems to feel at ease knowing he’s just right there- not totally offering her comfort but the reassurance of his presence.

“You’re cold.” His voice murmurs smoothly through the air. It’s only then that she notices the goosebumps that trek along her arms. The light breeze flows around them once more, reminding Caroline that she doesn’t have as much tolerance to the weather as she once had when she was a vampire.

Her eyes lifted towards him to watch as he slid the casual high-collared blazer off just to then gently place it over her shoulders. Caroline’s arms cross and grasp the sides of the coat, pulling it closer to her body before offering him a smile in thanks. Although his eyes seemed to be light, there was a hint of concern to be seen.

“Caroline, what aren’t you telling me?”

The words surprise her, not because he’s asking them, but because he’s asking them now. She should have felt lucky that he hadn’t asked her earlier or even within the first ten minutes she was in New Orleans.

A lot. She thinks.

When she doesn’t speak, he sighs and shifts closer to her.

“You should be aware that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do it if I don’t know any of the details.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I understand that these past few years haven’t been as undemanding as you’ve hoped, but you need to tell me something- anything- so that I can help you.”

Caroline contemplates just shrugging it off and telling him there’s nothing to talk about but that would be a lie. A big lie. She came to him for help, slept in his bed, and ate his food. It would have been foolish of her to think that she could take full advantage of his protection and not have to give him a detailed explanation. But, she doesn’t know exactly how to start and how to proceed. There are specifics that he doesn’t want him to know about, but if she were to leave them out, she’s sure that he is intelligent enough to put a few pieces together, or at least tell that she’s leaving a few key details out. She had two options. Either she tells the truth or she omits, telling him that she doesn’t have the courage to give him an explanation. The last option would be the easier route, but one that would most likely drive a wedge between them, thus possibly compromising their safety.

If she were younger, she would have grappled for a third option. But she was older and more mature now. Even though the prospect of what Klaus may think of her afterwards held a sizable weight over her head, she knew that she couldn��t avoid telling Klaus the truth.

“Silas isn’t just chasing me because I helped in the plan to kill him.” She breathes.

Klaus’ eyes blink in surprise, as if he’s shocked that she’s actually opening up to him. But he allows her to continue.

“When you came back to Mystic Falls, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Silas. When Stefan lured Silas outside, I was left alone on the far side of the boarding house. Someone had grabbed me and I acted on instinct because I knew Damon, Elena, and Qetsiyah were in the parlor, so I assumed it was Silas.” Caroline looks away from the Original and out towards the night sky. “It turned out to be Amara.” Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him to gauge his reaction. He stood still, eyes just taking her in and processing the information that she was offering him.

“Silas’ one true love.” Her eyes hold guilt and a sadness within them as she remembers the events that occurred nearly five years ago. “She was innocent and I killed her.”

A stray tear begins to form in her eye and bubbles over, making a thin wet trail down her cheek. Klaus’ hand doesn’t move as fast as it normally does when he gently wipes the tear from her face, making sure not to make any moves that she wouldn’t be able to reject. The heat of his palm against her jaw and the pressure it holds gives her an odd sense of comfort that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I don’t know how he found out after he faked his death, but he-,” she begins to struggle to speak, the emotions beginning to take advantage of her. “He approached me in my dorm one day and I’m not sure if he planned it or not, but Tyler happened to walk in.”

Caroline lets out a small exhale to try to keep her emotions slightly underwraps but she can’t help the couple tears that escape her eyes. Turning her head away, she feels a shade of guilt run through her. “He- he killed Tyler right in front of me.” She also tried to explain how after Silas left her with his ultimatum, she had to find a place to bury Tyler and come up with a story for his absence, but she thinks she would have totally broken down if she spoke another word. It didn’t take much longer than a couple seconds before his arms had brought her closer to him and she didn’t shy away from pushing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

The heat radiating off of him almost felt like it began to wrap around her, comforting her in her grief. Klaus kept one arm around her back and another in the hair on the back of her head. His head craned down and he gently pressed his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She feels the most safe she has ever felt in the past two years in his arms. The sandalwood cologne fills her lungs when her nose digs deeply into his shirt, surely ruining it with her tears but she's not too worried about that right now.

After a few long moments of being wrapped up in his body, he halts the slow brushing of her hair that she had just noticed he was doing. Klaus’ head pulls away to get a better look at her and she tilts her head up to do the same.

“Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Caroline nods and lets Klaus guide her back into his bedroom. He shuts the French doors behind him and closes the cream drapes, the sounds of the city now greatly muffled by the extra barrier. Caroline walks over to the bed. Once she’s sat down, Klaus is already over by the fireplace and starting the fire. She tries to catch her breath. Although she wasn’t sobbing, she still finds it hard to regain herself. A crackle comes from the fireplace and when Klaus stands from his crouched position, she can see the small flames of the fire begin to lick at the wood inside. In no time, Klaus is right there, taking the coat from her shoulders and silently encouraging her to lay down on the bed. She pulls the soft covers over herself as Klaus’ eyes rove over her.

“Will you stay?” The words escape her lips before she can understand what she had said.

Klaus studies her for a moment but his attention is pulled towards the sliding doors that are cracked open just enough for him to see his brother. His brother’s presence now reminds him of the factions meeting they were supposed to attend tonight in light of the recent events between the witches, werewolves, and vampires, but Caroline is in a sensitive emotional position. Although he finds it surprising for her to feel comforted by him, he doesn’t feel as inadequate for the job as he would with anyone else. He decides then what he will do. New Orleans can wait. If anything, his brother is more than equipped with handling tonight’s meeting without him.

His head turns back towards Caroline. The deep blue of his eyes already indicate his answer to her and she slides to the other side of the bed to give him room. Klaus toes off his boots and just before he lays down, his eyes glance up to see the sliding door closing all the way and his brother’s footsteps retreating away.

When he’s settled onto his back, Caroline quickly tucks into his side. The move isn’t unexpected with her trying to seek a source of comfort. He slowly pulls his arm out from under her and instead wraps it around her body, placing his hand just above her hip as she buries herself into his ribcage.

Klaus lays there for a while, listening to the changes in her heart beat and studying the way it slows when she falls asleep. He only allows himself to shut his eyes when he hears his brother return an hour later, feeling more comfortable being asleep when at least one other Original is awake. He won’t take any chances with Caroline. He won’t risk losing her.

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

When Caroline wakes up that next morning, she isn’t shocked that she’s alone and the place where he had once been was vacant of his body heat. She never assumed Klaus to be the type of man to sleep in by any means being as paranoid as he usually was but it had seemed like he’d been gone for quite a while. As much as she wants to think that maybe he had some weird bout of inspiration to paint or do whatever artistic thing he prided himself with, she has the better judgement to know it was business related.

From what she could tell, he and his brother were the main one’s calling the shots in the French Quarter. Not unexpected, considering Klaus is, well, Klaus. But he has subtly mentioned from time to time whilst they were out yesterday that there was some tension between a few of the supernatural factions. Caroline imagines that it's more of a regular occurrence and something that comes with ‘ruling’ (Klaus’ words, not her’s) over the supernatural community within New Orleans. Thus, it doesn’t take a genius to understand Klaus must have a decent amount of business to conduct most of the time. She wouldn’t be all too surprised if he was out handing threats out like flyers first thing in the morning.

The mere idea that Klaus has probably been awake for at least a couple hours now prompted her to get motivated for the day. Although she didn’t directly have any plans other than possibly not getting her throat ripped out by Rebekah, she still needed to eat.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed and make her way out of Klaus’ bedroom. But when she made it to the hallway outside of Klaus’ study, she was a little torn on what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t exactly shown her around the Compound so she really only knows the way in and out of the Compound from his living quarters.

There were a few doors on each side of the hallway. She chose the route she was more familiar with and decided to start there. Fearing that she might be interfering in his family’s privacy, she only ventured into the rooms that were already open. She first found a parlor room with dark red couches and a small wet bar, next she found a very extensive library where she read a few of the titles of the books. Some were familiar and some were totally unknown to her, but she imagined that she wouldn’t know any books that were written in other languages like the French one she decided to flip open. After finding a few first editions, she thought it best to move on and keep her human, clumsy hands away from books that could be worth more than a couple thousand dollars. When exiting the library and finding the courtyard, she climbed down the stairs and got lucky when she found the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, she crosses her fingers that she doesn’t just see blood bags. Upon opening the fridge, she’s satisfied to find a tray of eggs, milk carton, a drawer dedicated to fruits and vegetables, a couple bottles of water, some condiments in the door slots, and a couple other assorted food items that were relatively healthy. She would do just about anything right now to satisfy her sweet tooth that she woke up with but she’s also grateful that the Mikealson’s even have food in general, so she’ll take what she can get. So, Caroline takes the grape jelly out of the door slot and then goes to search for bread. Surely if they had food in the fridge, they had to have some non-refrigerated items too, right?

Looking through a couple of the cabinets, she mentally notes which cabinet held the plates, glassware, coffee grounds, and such. She finally finds the bread and limits herself to two slices. She may be hungry but she’s also human.

Grabbing a plate and spotting the toaster conveniently placed on the counter next to the coffee machine, she places the slices of bread inside.

In that moment, she thinks of the simple weekday mornings just before school. Those so easy and simple times where she had convinced herself could be the worst for her. How wrong she was. Now, she misses those mornings where all she had to worry about was boys and if she was going to pass that week’s pop quiz. In fact, she can even say she misses the times where the worst that could happen was an unexpected visit from a particularly moody Original hybrid in which had a 50/50 percent chance of ending with a pair of toxic hybrid teeth in someone’s throat.

Now, Caroline realizes that Klaus must have either grown to enjoy watching her and her friend’s failed attempts to end his life or preferred to use ‘kid-gloves’ because if he were to kill any of her friends, he knew better than to think she’d ever forgive him. Either way, she feels somewhat lucky in an odd way that he hadn’t reacted as badly as she now knew he could have. Unlike Klaus, Silas had no attraction or reason to extend any amount of mercy towards her, which was extremely terrifying. Silas may be mortal now but he is also a very powerful witch. One that was able to keep up with her when she was still a vampire.

The ding of the toaster brings her out of her reverie. Caroline reaches into the toaster to carefully pull the slice of bread out. The front of her finger grazes the hot metal inside and she pulls it out as quickly as she can on instinct. “Damnit!” She whispers heatedly, knowing there were other vampires within the house. In the process of taking a step back as the pain still sizzles underneath her skin, she could see something in her peripheral vision. Turning her head quickly, she yelps.

“Shit!” She curses, jumping slightly in her own skin when she finds an unexpected figure in the entranceway of the kitchen.

A smirk graces his features and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

“God, you can’t do that. I can’t exactly sense when you’re creepily stalking me anymore.”

He doesn’t respond but she thinks he gets the point. Klaus walks over to her and easily deposits both slices of toast onto the plate she had out. Fishing out a butter knife from one of the drawers and opening the lid to the jam.

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” His eyes glance over to her as she watches him spread the jam over the slices of toast before placing the used knife into the stainless steel sink. He then slides the plate closer to her and walks back over to the fridge to put the jar of jam away.

Caroline takes the plate and takes a couple steps over to the island counter where a couple stools sat. She sits and takes a bite out of her toast. “Now?”

“As soon as you are ready.” He then grins at her, clearly hiding something from her. “Although, I recommend you wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

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

They’ve been in the car maybe five minutes before Caroline began to question him on where he was taking her.

“Seriously?”

His eyebrow rises and he glances towards her with lighthearted eyes that tell her he was certainly enjoying her irritation. Caroline just resorts to glaring at him but it doesn't hold nearly the same weight that it had a few years ago when she’d glare at him then and he clearly knows it. Klaus’ eyes return to the road and Caroline sighs, settling further into the leather seat of his luxury SUV.

“If you can’t tell me where we’re going, can you at least tell me something?” She asks, thinking that maybe he would want to play the ‘hint game.’

A sly smirk puts the edge of his lips up. Instead of giving into her, he decides to veer off into a different topic altogether.

“Do you recall the period of time when Alaric helped train the doppelganger in the ridiculous hope that it would somehow keep her safe from my siblings and myself?”

Caroline is a little taken aback by his question. Obviously, she remembers. Elena had once tried to get her to join her and Alaric. What surprised her about it though was that he even knew about it in the first place because Elena had thought they’d kept it all ‘hush hush’ specifically so he wouldn’t find out. Although, Caroline now thinks that he would most likely know from pulling the information out of Tyler or having a hybrid tail them once in a while. Both scenarios are equally as realistic.

The Land Rover slows and turns down a dirt path that is cascaded with tall trees. Clearly, he was taking her somewhere in the countryside.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant unless you plan to drag me out into the middle of the woods and kill me.” She turns her head to look at him. “Because I will put up one hell of a fight.”

His chuckle is low but not in a dark way. The blue in his eyes gets a little brighter when he parks the car at the edge of a large clearing. There’s a few fallen logs and if Caroline squints just enough, she can make out the shape of a couple makeshift tents a couple hundred yards away. She feels the Original turn towards her after shutting the car off and she looks his way.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if I were to make you my victim, I wouldn’t need to take you to the Bayou.” The tone in his voice is as casual as if he were talking about dinner plans and the smile he dotes is edging on the side of diabolical.

She raises a brow and turns away from him as she opens the passenger side door. “Because that makes me feel reassured.�� Caroline knows his lips tug higher up into his cheeks, enjoying her slight sarcasm and their back-and-forth banter. Sometimes she thinks he likes making her angry, she can’t really think of a reason why, but he seems to always draw that emotion out of her at times when he doesn’t really have to.

Upon getting out, she notices he rounds the back of the car and opens the tailgate. Klaus pulls two objects out and closes the tailgate before meeting her a few paces away from the black vehicle. Her eyes widen a hair and her eyebrows rise dramatically when she sees what he took out for the back of his SUV.

He holds two long medieval looking swords, one in each hand. Stepping up to her, he readjusts his grip on one of the swords and holds it by the blade, offering it to her by the leather wrapped handle. She physically hesitates, clearly confused about what his end goal was.

Klaus seems amused by her reaction and tips his head to the side.

“Go on, it won’t bite you.”

Her eyes shift from the sword in his hands and his eyes. Slowly, she grasps the handle of the sword and Klaus lets go. Caroline struggles for a moment, the sword being heavier than she had anticipated. Not knowing what to do with it, she lets the end of it sit on the ground.

On the other hand, Klaus holds his sword by the handle and holds it out diagonally in the air.

“Strike it.” He orders.

Caroline does nothing except look at him strangely before rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You brought me out here for your own amusement? Newsflash, I’m not exactly some minion you can drag out to weird places and play ‘swords’ with.”

Klaus sighs and lowers the sword down, expertly thrusting the point into the grassy ground.

“This is no game, love. As much as I’d like to be showing you my city, I have a vested interest in your safety and to keep you protected. From what I have come to realize within the past years in residing in New Orleans, I can’t be in multiple places at once. Thus, why we are here.” His empty hand motions along as he speaks and his eyes glance around the clearing at it’s mention. “I’d like to be able to say that I will be by your side at all times, but that would simply be false. Which is why I think it is pertinent and rather of astronomically great import that you have some ability to defend yourself.”

Caroline glances down at the sword in his hand. “With a sword?” She asks with a stifled laugh, almost amused by the thought of using a sword in an actual realistic fight.

“No, but it gives you a starting place and the ability to learn how to use spare objects as weapons.”

Klaus then raises the sword again and nods. “Now, strike it.”

#klausmikealson #klaroline #drabble #klaroline drabbles #the originals #klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #klaus x caroline #caroline forbes #elijah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

Fallout 4 characters (who've been to the capitol or at least heard about what happened there) react to sole survivor finding a tunnel snakes jacket and/or meeting butch and the lone wanderer who came to the commonwealth to meet sole survivor and co. after the railroad ending

Sorry if I made it too complicated

Thanks so much for the ask! This was a super interesting prompt! I only did a few companions (including Danse despite this being a railroad ending because I just couldn't help myself) but if there's someone I didn't include that you still want to see, just let me know! I hope you enjoy :)

Danse:

Danse stopped in his tracks, forcing Sole to halt in place a few paces back. They peeked their head out from behind his tall, power-armored frame, looking for signs of danger. In the distance, two figures made their way towards them, and Sole raised their sniper rifle in preparation, curious as to why Danse made no sudden moves to ready his own weapon. Sole held the scope of their gun to their eye, trying to find a good shot in case the pair turned out to be hostile. Noticing their action, Danse turned his head, bringing a large hand up to push the barrel of the gun roughly downwards.

“Hey!”

“There’s no need to have them in your sights, soldier. These civilians are no threat to us.”

“How do you know? What about exercising caution?” Sole adjusted the grip on their rifle, still not completely convinced that they weren’t in danger.

“I know because I’ve met these people before."

“You can tell who they are all the way from here?” They squinted their eyes at the figures in the distance once again, trying to make out any discernible features, but failing to do so.

“Yes, look at their vault suits.”

“Okay,” Sole started, “I know it all turned out fine with me, but not everyone wearing a vault suit is automatically a good person.” Danse closed his eyes for a moment, a bout of air escaping his nose in an expression of his annoyance.

“I know that. But look closely,” His voice lowered a bit as the two strangers in vault suits grew nearer. Now, Sole could almost make out the general features of their faces.

“Their suits say ‘vault 101’ on them.” Danse said the words with a weight that left Sole feeling as though they should know what he was talking about. He turned to look at them expectantly, almost confirming their theory, before noticing their distinct lack of recognition at his words.

“Vault 101 is in the Capital Wasteland," he explained, "only three people I know of have ever left that particular vault; I know one to be dead, and the other two travel the wastes together, performing selfless acts to aid the settlers in the Capital. One of them is called Lone, and they were once a great ally to the Brotherhood of Steel; they walked beside Liberty Prime in our war against the Enclave ten years ago.”

Sole furrowed their eyebrows, their gaze still trained on the blue-clad pair as they drew ever closer.

“And you’re sure this is them?” Danse nodded his head as he looked towards them, Sole continued, lowering their voice even more as their gaze rested on the approaching vault-dwellers, “And they’re no threat? If they’re still allied with the Brotherhood, that could be an issue, Danse.” They said the last bit rather softly, hinting at the ex-paladin's now severed relationship with the faction he was once so devoted to.

“I suppose we shall see.” Danse said, and Sole looked on as one of the pair acknowledged them with a wave of their hand, their partner behind them keeping his pistol lowered reassuringly.

“Greetings, civilians.” Danse said, effectively outing himself as a (former) member of the Brotherhood, as if the power armor hadn’t already helped with that a bit. This is why I do the talking. Sole thought as they let out a breath, trying to release some of the anxiety they felt building up in response to this strange situation.

“Hello.” One of them said, their eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion of the soldier and his companion. “Nice outfit,” they nodded towards Sole’s own vault suit, but before Sole could respond, Danse took another step forward.

“Do you still go by ‘Lone’?” he asked, and the one in front snapped their gaze up to look him in the eye, their bewilderment plainly written on their face.

“Hey!” said the man in the leather jacket behind them, “how do you know Lone’s name?”

“So, I suppose that’s a ‘yes,’ then.” Sole interjected. Lone looked back, flashing a perturbed look at the man behind them, and Sole’s gaze went up to Danse, hoping he would explain more. For both their sake, and for Lone’s.

“We haven’t met, but I was at the Citadel when you arrived after the Enclave took over your father’s water purifier.”

Lone's eyebrows seemed to raise slightly at that, as they nodded in remembrance.

"So, are you still with the Brotherhood, then?" The air seemed to sizzle and crack around Danse at the pressure Lone’s question exuded on him. Should he lie and say that he is? Or has Lone since cut ties with the faction as well? There was certainly no physical indication that they were still allied with the Brotherhood, but…

"Not currently." Sole answered for the ex-paladin, "I don't know if you've heard, but the chapter of the Brotherhood that was stationed here was wiped out." They felt Danse tense at their words. Now Sole was taking the risk, mentioning an event that had nearly demolished their relationship with the former Brotherhood soldier, but they had to say something. And this way, they weren’t giving away their position in relation to the Brotherhood.

"So I'd heard. It's a shame, really."

"I’ll tell you what’s a shame,” Lone’s companion spoke up, “that they lost their sweet ass ride. That's what I think. Never seen anything like it, now the whole damn thing’s been blown to smithereens."

Danse’s eyes seemed to glaze over at the mention of the destruction of the ship he once called home, and Sole knew he wouldn’t be much help to them now.

“So, you’re from the Capital? What is it that’s brought you out here?” They asked in an attempt to veer away from this troubling subject. Lone narrowed their eyes slightly, and Sole could practically see the gears turning in their head as they thought through what sort of information they wanted to divulge to the strangers in front of them.

“Wait, slow your roll there. We might kinda-sorta know this guy," Lone's companion gestured to Danse, "but who are you supposed to be, huh?” Sole noticed the man’s hand remained firmly grasped around the 10mm pistol he carried, and they wondered if perhaps Danse had been wrong about these two. It has been 10 years, these people could have changed. They could be anyone by now.

“My name is Sole.” They said simply, unsure how they should further embellish their title, given their uncertainty surrounding the pair in front of them. But, as it happens, it seemed they didn’t have to, for as soon as their name left their lips, Lone turned abruptly to their companion with wide eyes.

“You’re Sole?” Lone asked, their gaze turning to fall heavily on Sole, their eyes round in recognition.

“No way we just bumped into them like this. No way.” Lone’s partner shook his head in disbelief, and Sole looked up to see Danse’s stare break from the nothingness he’d been focused on to rest upon Lone’s perplexed face.

“I-- well, yes, I am. How do you…?” Sole trailed off, not sure what exactly they were trying to ask.

“Well, you asked why we came here.” Sole nodded to them, “It was to find you.” At that, Danse raised his laser rifle from the restful position it had held throughout the entire exchange thus far, as the possibly threatening words left Lone’s mouth.

“Easy there, sergeant major. We’re just gabbin’, no need for a defensive position.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m taking one. Always best to be prepared, civilian.” Danse looked down at Lone’s companion with furrowed brows, hands holding steady in their poised position on his rifle.

“Alright, everyone, let’s calm down. We just want to talk to you, Sole.” Lone said, hands slightly raised in an inoffensive gesture.

“Why?” Danse said, utterly unconvinced that the pair meant no harm. My, how the tables have turned so abruptly. Sole thought, I’d like to tell him I told him so, but something tells me now’s not the time for that.

Lone just smiled as Danse glowered down at them,

“If all I’ve heard is true, Sole is a hero." They said, "my aim is to find out what really happened with you and the Institute, and maybe, if I like what I hear, we’ll have a few favors to ask of you.”

“Favors?” Sole spoke up, “What did you have in mind?”

“We’ll go into more detail later, but let’s just say that the Capital Wasteland hasn’t exactly benefited from the Brotherhood’s… change in management. For now though, I’ll leave it at that. And we should get moving if we’re going to find shelter before sundown. I hear it can get pretty chilly up here at night.” Sole nodded as they considered all that Lone had said, and as their eyes found Danse’s, the pair silently decided to trust the Lone wanderer and their partner. For now, at least.

“Sole,” Danse said, “why don’t you take point.”

“Good idea.” Sole moved to step ahead of the others, heading north along the dirt road they had been following, before glancing back at the sound of Lone’s voice.

“Butch, why don’t you take up the rear.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Butch turned to Sole and winked before doing as Lone had suggested, and the group set off to find shelter for the fast-approaching evening.

MacCready:

“Holy crap, where the heck did you get this?!” MacCready held up the leather jacket in front of him, eyes widening in awe. Sole looked over from where they stood outside their house in Sanctuary, squinting their eyes at the seemingly inconsequential jacket.

“That’s not mine.” They told him, turning back to unloading the scrap they’d acquired from the mission they and MacCready had just returned from.

“Do you even know what this is?” You looked back at him with a cocked brow,

“Does it look like I do?”

“This is a Tunnel Snakes jacket!” MacCready held the jacket with one hand, the other gesturing animatedly to the artwork on the back of it, Sole’s expression remained devoid of recognition, so MacCready felt the need to continue, “The Tunnel Snakes! It’s a gang. They’re from the Capital Wasteland. I’ve only ever seen one of these jackets once, and--”

“Oh, and what have we here?” A man in a vault suit with slicked back hair stepped out from the side of the house, flicking a cigarette butt to the ground, “hey, come check this out! Told you the Tunnel Snakes’ name got around.” The man gazed proudly at the jacket, a smug expression formed on his face as another stranger rounded the corner of the house. They also donned a vault suit, an amused smile playing at their lips as they rolled their eyes at their companion. The new stranger was odd, despite their age, they had an air of knowing about them. They were young, but their eyes seemed old, light lines shown on their face, telling the story of a life fraught with loss and tough decisions.

“Butch, we’ve been over this.” They said, “There’s like three people in the gang, and two of them live underground. The guy probably just thinks it’s a cool jacket.”

“Then how did he know the name, huh?”

“It’s on the jacket, Butch.”

“No!” MacCready interjected, “I do know you guys! We’ve met before, remember? Little Lamplight?”

Sole was now to the point of utter bewilderment as their head darted back between Mac and the two strangers. What the hell is going on here? Who are these people? Has MacCready ever mentioned a ‘Butch’ before? The stranger looked hard at MacCready, taking a few steps towards him, before recognition sparked in their eyes. Sole took a few steps forward in response, uncomfortable with the strangers’ proximity to their companion.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” They whispered, just loud enough for Sole to hear from where they stood beside the group. “I wouldn’t forget those wide, blue eyes. Look at you, little mayor MacCready, how’s it feel to be a mungo now, huh?”

“Holy shit!” Butch exclaimed, moving closer to MacCready to get a better look, “It’s the little mayoral punk from the kid cave!”

MacCready just laughed, his hand still clasped firmly around the leather jacket, as Sole stepped towards them.

“The hat’s changed a bit, but I see you’re still fond of sniper rifles.” The stranger nodded to MacCready’s rifle that lay on the ground next to where he stood. “Tell me,” they continued, “you still an asshole?”

Sole opened their mouth, only to be shut down by a glare from MacCready.

“You’re not allowed to answer that.” He pointed at them as he said it, and Sole rolled their eyes at him. MacCready then looked to the strangers, as if to answer their question, but before he could utter a word, Sole stepped forward.

“Okay, hold on, before anybody else says anything, I need to know what’s going on here. So, you going to introduce me to your friends, or what?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course!” MacCready seemed to jitter with excitement as he bounced over to them, and Sole wondered who it was they saw energetically bobbing around in front of them, this certainly wasn’t the MacCready they knew. And judging by their befuddled expressions, Butch and the stranger thought the same.

“Sole, this is Lone, the one I told you about, who helped with the mutants at Little Lamplight? And purified all that water for the people in the capitol? Yeah, that’s them, and this is their partner, Butch, he was from the same vault and was an OG Tunnel Snake.”

“Yeah, the OG Tunnel Snake.” Butch said, bringing his hands up to flick his collar up, before realizing he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He smoothed his hands over his chest awkwardly instead as Lone looked on, a mix of disappointment and amusement playing on their face, before they turned their attention to Sole.

“So, Sole, you’re the one everyone’s been talking about.”

“I-- I am?”

“Yeah, you’re the reason we came all the way up here. The vault dweller from before the war, the legendary railroad agent, and the one who brought down the Institute. You're a hero, even down in the CW. But it's strange, you’re younger than I thought.” Sole blinked, and smiled a little bashfully, unsure how to respond to such praise coming from Lone, who certainly was a legend in their own right. Instead of speaking to them directly, Sole turned to MacCready,

“You told me that Lone was dead.”

“What? No, I--”

“No, MacCready, you said they gave their life for the people of the capitol, in that water purifier thing.”

Lone chucked from beside Sole, shaking their head.

“It’s okay. You’d be surprised by how many people think that's true. Anyway, you’ve clearly heard my story, but we’re here for yours, Sole. What do you say we go inside and talk?”

Sole nodded, gesturing for them to head inside the house. They glanced over to MacCready, who made an attempt at handing the leather jacket back to its owner. But Butch just slapped him on the back,

“Tell you what, daddy-o, you keep it. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Plus, I got plenty of those back home.”

Deacon:

The pair entered the memory den and Sole nodded to Irma as they made their way towards the stairs leading to the basement. As they headed down, Sole heard Deacon’s footsteps behind them falter. They turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised,

What is it? They asked him silently, the words written in their expression. He took a few steps closer to them, keeping his voice low as he answered.

“Do you hear that?” He asked, and Sole held their breath as they listened for whatever it was that had their companion concerned.

“Voices?” they whispered back, and he nodded.

“I don’t recognise them. Better let me do the talking.” Sole nodded to him, and stepped aside, allowing Deacon to take the lead. They were coming to escort a recently mind-wiped synth to their new home in the Jamaica Plain settlement. The only ones meant to be present were Dr. Amari and the synth, Charlie. Deacon and Sole had helped the synth, designation C1-44, all the way from Mercer safehouse to Goodneighbor, so they knew his voice well enough at this point. Sole had hoped that, with the Institute effectively gone, processes like this would become much less common, and the existing synths could live their lives in peace, with their memories intact. But C1 had specifically asked for a mind-wipe, the Institute’s depreciating thoughts and acts towards him had left him with an abhorrent self-image that he felt he needed to escape from. Deacon had been right, it seemed, even without the Institute, the Railroad’s work was never done.

Sole might’ve waited to peek around the corner before entering the room, but Deacon sauntered right in while they held back in the hallway. They had always admired the spy’s confidence, but how many times had he warned them about waltzing into a situation without preparation? They seemed to recall a number of instances…

“Bullseye, you comin’?” They rounded the corner at the sound of their Railroad codename, a little alarmed, only to find the room devoid of both Charlie and Dr. Amari. Instead, two strangers stood beside the memory pod in the room. One stood in front of the other, at the ready, while the man behind them leaned against the back of the memory pod.

“Where..?” Sole started, turning to Deacon, but he was looking back at the stranger in combat armor,

“See, Lone? Told you I knew them. I don’t always lie, despite what you seem to think.”

The one named Lone rolled their eyes at him,

“You may not have lied about bringing them here, but I seem to remember you describing them as much more… well, not quite as they are. Say, Bullseye, how tall are you?”

Sole opened their mouth to respond, but Deacon cut them off before they could voice a thing.

“Is that really what matters? So, I may have exaggerated a few details about their appearance, but everything else is true. They really took down the Institute after working undercover for months without detection, and they've saved well over a hundred synth lives.”

“Deacon.” Sole said, their uncertainty keeping them frozen in place by the entrance to the basement, “who are these people? Where is the-- ah, where is our client?”

“Oh, where are my manners?” Deacon brought a hand up to his chest dramatically before approaching Sole, throwing his arm around their shoulders, and urging them forward before gesturing to the people in front of them.

“This is Lone, the famed Railroad ally from the Capital wasteland. And you two have quite a bit in common, cuz, you see, Lone has also managed to take down a potentially world-destroying organization that happened to be bigoted, and inappropriately sanctimonious and self-obsessed. So I thought it’d be cute for you two to spend some time together, you know, swap war stories and pre-war recipes, stuff like that. You had pre-war food in vault 101, right?”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Lone said, ignoring Deacon's attempt at humor, “I’ve heard so much.” Sole went to properly introduce themself, but was once again interrupted, this time by the man in the leather jacket behind Lone, who cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh,” Lone moved slightly out of the way so that Sole and Deacon could better see their companion, “This is my partner, Butch, he’s also from the vault.” Butch cleared his throat again, frowning at Lone.

“And? C’mon partner, you’re not telling me that’s all I am to you?”

Lone frowned slightly, appearing unphased, as though this were a common occurrence for them, “Butch also helped me take down the Enclave, and he assists me with the Railroad missions I’m involved with in the Capital.”

“Butch, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He said, walking forward and extending a hand towards Sole, who shook it tentatively.

“There, now we’re all on a first-name basis, why don’t we get moving? If we’re going to reach HQ before sundown, we’d better go now.” Deacon withdrew his arm from Sole’s shoulder, and started towards the door. “Hold on a moment, Deacon. What about our mission? You never answered me,” they continued, lowering their voice at their next question, “and now we’re taking these people to HQ? Does Des know?” Deacon looked at them with a disappointed expression,

“You’re killing me here, where’s the mystery if I explain everything? Where's the fun in that?” Sole flared their nostrils at him and heard Lone snicker from behind them.

“Really, we’ll talk when we get to HQ.” He said, turning back towards the stairs, “And of course Des knows.” He called over his shoulder, “I would never presume to waltz right into HQ with a couple of perfect strangers without her permission. Who do you think I am? Who do you think I think I am?” Sole caught the smug grin that spread across his face as he turned to take the first step up the stairs to the ground floor.

“Don’t worry,” Lone said, walking up from behind Sole, “We know Des. I’ve worked with her more times than I care to count, though I never have actually met her. That’s why we’re here, actually. To meet her, and the others I’ve heard about. And to meet you. Believe it or not, I’ve heard the most about you.”

“I suppose that means I’m not a very good agent.” Sole said, a little laugh escaping them as Lone’s words gave them some peace of mind regarding this odd situation they found themselves in.

“Eh, who cares about that. The Institute’s gone, so I don’t know why we’ve gotta still be all secret-y now anyway.” Butch’s voice came from a few steps down the stairs, and Lone shook their head at him, their exasperated expression seemed to mirror the one Sole usually had upon their face when Deacon opened his mouth. Maybe Deacon was right, they thought, as they reached the top of the stairs and the group made their way to the exit. Maybe Lone and I do have some things in common.

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acmetraitor · 3 years

Text

the art of evasion

“You two did a lot together,” Hawkins says outside the coliseum in Rome, and that draws Jules out of her reminiscing, draws her away from the memory of Carmen’s victorious smirk when they finally slapped the cuffs on the boss of that smuggling operation. “What happened? I mean, why did she leave ACME?”

“...Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” Jules manages to reply around the rising lump in her throat. “For now, let’s concentrate on tracking her down.”

It’s easier to dodge the question than to admit she has no idea.

Carmen was always a loose cannon, even back when she worked for ACME.

Once, on a stakeout in the dead of night, she and Jules trailed a suspect to a warehouse where the heads of a trafficking ring were temporarily hiding out. Carmen peeked inside to survey the situation while Jules called the Chief to send backup, but any teams were at least two hours away and the culprits were already in the process of clearing out.

“There’s no time,” Carmen concluded. “We have to catch these guys ourselves, now.”

“We can’t!” Jules hissed in protest. “There’s got to be at least ten of them in there!”

“Fourteen,” Carmen said. “But we have these.” She pulled out two pairs of night-vision goggles from her bag and shoved one into Jules’s hands. Then she dashed for the circuit breaker before Jules could stop her.

Once the lights went out, it was too late to turn back, so Jules went along with her partner’s crazy plan as her heart hammered in her throat the whole way. In the end, with the cover of darkness as their aid, they successfully neutralized all the suspects, but Carmen got a bullet graze wound to her shoulder because one trigger-happy goon got lucky.

After everything was over, Jules punched her in that shoulder. Carmen laughed through the pain.

That’s just who Carmen was. She knew she could do anything, she was an unstoppable force, and nobody could ever hope to rein her in. Not even Jules. So whatever reasons Carmen had for leaving ACME, she made that choice on her own, and everyone who blamed Jules for her partner’s betrayal honestly gave her too much credit.

Nothing Jules did could have made Carmen leave.

(Nothing Jules did could have made Carmen stay.)

Hawkins thinks he can do anything. He almost reminds Jules of Carmen in that sense, except Carmen didn’t think she could do anything, she knew it. And Jules knew it, too. Hawkins, though, is still an impulsive and overconfident rookie, and he doesn’t truly understand what he’s up against.

Jules cautions him in Cape Town, keeps him from breaking down the door because recklessness will only get them in trouble. But then Carmen leaves the scene in her chopper, and Hawkins is livid.

“What were you thinking, Jules?!” he cries. “Did you want her to get away?!”

He doesn’t really mean that, Jules knows, he’s just lashing out because he’s frustrated. But those words still hit her, somewhere deep inside.

So Jules dodges the question. She’s found herself doing that a lot with Hawkins.

What Carmen and Jules had wasn’t a romance.

They agreed on that from their very first kiss—Carmen was just doing what she wanted, and Jules wanted that, too. So they kissed, they fooled around, they made each other feel good, but the relationship was never serious. Sure, Jules was a little in love with Carmen, but loving Carmen also meant accepting that she was the type of person who could never be tied down to anyone.

So Carmen never opened up about herself, and Jules never asked her to. Jules never asked for anything more than what she got. Being Carmen’s partner was enough, and Jules was happy with their life together at ACME.

It never really occurred to her that maybe Carmen wasn’t.

Carmen had been MIA from ACME for a week when she announced the success of her very first heist via a video broadcast to the world. “I have stolen the Crown Jewels,” she proclaimed, and that was definitely Carmen on screen holding Cullinan I in her hand, her smug smile and twinkling eyes framed by a bright red fedora Jules had never seen her wear before. “And this is just the beginning. For I, Carmen Sandiego, am going to become the world’s greatest thief!”

The next morning, the Chief called Jules to her office, asked very seriously if Jules had ever noticed any signs that Carmen had been planning to defect. Jules told the truth: she hadn’t had a clue. Protocol demanded that Jules be taken off all her cases and thoroughly vetted anyway, but for what it was worth, Chief seemed to believe her.

Nobody else did, though.

“Maybe she and Sandiego had a fight,” her coworkers whispered amongst themselves, when they either didn’t know Jules could hear or didn’t care that she could. “There must be something Argent isn’t telling us. I mean, how couldn’t she know? She was her partner.”

Jules vowed to be the one to capture Carmen Sandiego, if only to prove to her peers that it wasn’t her fault. That just because she’d been Carmen’s partner didn’t mean she’d been anything more. She’d certainly never been Carmen’s confidant. Perhaps she’d never even been Carmen’s friend—

Except, Jules remembered: Carmen once took her to the top of the Eiffel Tower on one of their nights off, and kissed her breathless as they watched the Paris lights. Carmen once agreed to try all of Jules’s favorite restaurants in Chengdu, persevering even as her face flushed red because Jules liked her food much spicier than Carmen did. Carmen once went undercover as a musician for a case, and for a moment as she performed on stage, strumming her guitar and singing a love song in her native Brazilian Portuguese, she stared right at Jules’s spot in the audience and for those beautiful three seconds, it felt like the song was just for her.

...Okay, so maybe Jules was more than a little in love with Carmen.

(And maybe the idea of locking Carmen behind bars was just as painful as her coworkers’ censure, if not more.)

“You’re practically burning holes in your journal,” Hawkins tells Jules, during the plane ride to Germany right after retrieving the Mayan calendar. “What are you thinking about?”

Jules looks up from the entries she was reading: the ones from the mission where they retrieved the Mok’o fish gong. “I’m remembering the wolf statue in Quebec, and that Sorbonne poster in Paris.” The proof that Carmen Sandiego donated a lot of money to causes she cared about. “There is some good in Carmen,” Jules murmurs, an echo of what she said back in Mexico.

“There was some good in Carmen Sandiego,” Hawkins says. “I’ll believe that much. But Jules, she’s not your partner anymore. The past is the past. You need to focus on now, on this case.”

“I am focused on this case,” Jules insists. “If...if I can just figure out Carmen’s reasons for doing all this, I can figure out what she’ll do next.”

“Figure out...” Hawkins repeats, and something seems to click into place in his mind. “You don’t actually know why she left ACME, do you?”

Jules might as well admit it to him now. “I really don’t. When it happened, it surprised me as much as anybody.”

She’s half-expecting Hawkins to express disbelief like everyone else: How couldn’t you know? You were Carmen’s partner. But instead, he just cocks his head to the side and asks, “In that case, what makes you so sure she even had a reason?”

“...It’s Carmen,” Jules says, unable to produce a better answer. “There must have been a reason.”

Hawkins doesn’t really seem convinced at all, but he doesn’t push the subject any further.

Jules appreciates that.

Jules knew Carmen better than anyone else did. That didn’t necessarily mean she knew Carmen well, but at the very least, she was positive that Carmen wanted to make the world a better place. Whenever Carmen had talked about conserving the environment, about preserving world cultures, about learning from the past so that we may improve the future, there was real, undeniable passion there.

(If nothing else, Jules certainly knew Carmen’s passion.)

But the Carmen who Jules knew, the Carmen who had wanted nothing more than to do good—how in the world had she become the Carmen who stole, who laughed at the law, who left taunting and sometimes cruel messages behind?

Hello Julia. Still trying to prove yourself?

Maybe you’ve lost your edge, Jules.

You’ll learn, Agent Hawkins, that Julia can get quite frustrated at times. Not to mention opinionated.

The remarks hurt, honestly, but they also just didn’t make sense. Carmen hadn’t cared enough about Jules to stay, obviously, but...she had cared. Jules knew Carmen leaving ACME had never been about her, yet now, Carmen was acting as if she had something personal against Jules all of a sudden.

It’s almost as if, a voice whispered in the back of Jules’s mind, Carmen is trying to make you hate her.

And when Jules thought about it like that, she realized: if the Carmen she knew had, for whatever reason, believed she could somehow better the world by making herself into the villain...

She would have.

One hundred percent, she would have.

“Maybe she masterminded these thefts so the whole world could benefit,” Jules ponders aloud, after Carmen escapes her and Hawkins in the lost city. Even as she says it, she knows there’s no proof. There’s nothing there but her own intuition, and maybe too much hope, and a love for Carmen that will never truly be able to leave her heart.

Hawkins doesn’t believe it. The Chief probably doesn’t either. And even if Jules ever caught up to Carmen, even if Jules ever managed to pin her down long enough to ask if her theory was correct, Carmen would never answer her honestly.

That’s just who Carmen is. And Jules will just have to live with that.

“I still think Carmen Sandiego is a bad apple. Rotten to the core,” Hawkins says, because he and Jules don’t agree on a lot of things and will likely never agree on Carmen. But even so, his can-do attitude as the Chief reports Carmen’s next heist is contagious, invigorating. It honestly makes Jules feel better.

Carmen would never answer Jules honestly. But there is still the possibility that Jules could find out the truth for herself.

So, with the chase back on and her confidence renewed, Jules turns to Shadow and smiles.

#treasures of knowledge #jules argent #shadow hawkins #carmen sandiego #julethief #2001 julethief to be precise cuz buddy i been riding this ''enemies who used to be partners'' ship since i was 8 #but also jules & hawkins being bros because i love their relationship too it's so fun #my writing

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soulshards · 2 years

Note

[ BLEED ] for your muse to make mine bleed

For a while now, the Huntress and the Baroness had become something akin to friends. Miahka had a use for the Keeper, for several reasons. A forest dwelling hunter meant she had someone she could purchase the aid of whenever she needed to venture further into the deep woods of Gridania, a guide, and someone to help against any beasts that may interrupt her harvesting. It was a mutual benefit; she filled Vaza’s pockets with gil, and in turn, had safe passage through Gridania. Safe enough, that is.

But as time grew on and they found they had more in common than realised, a friendship might soon blossom. Miahka found the Keeper’s company comforting, in a way, she reminded her of a time long ago. It also reminded her of how… lazy she had gotten. She exercised, she ate well, but her physical prowess was nothing compared to what it used to be. This led to the request of a sparring companion, someone in which she could train knowing her life would not be in danger.

That didn’t mean her counterparts wouldn’t be, however. Few times they had crossed blades, some basic endurance training in order to get Miahka back up to speed. The larger Keeper would win, time and time again… time and time again, the Xaela grew annoyed, frustrated. She would snap, lash out - sulk like a child who came last in the race. Tensions would rise. Miahka was determined to beat the Huntress.

There would come a day when she would - she fought, she fought with intensity. She was exhausting herself at every cost, the cost of her pride. But Vaza was not an easy foe, and she would dish out what was given. Blades clashed, knives scraping together in near misses. Miahka’s face was steel, her crystal gaze hard upon the golden eyed woman. Teeth bared, a low growl even sought to escape her throat. Limbs moved, and-

A foot extended, a shove, the Keeper would come to topple to the dirt below with a heavy thud as Miahka finally, finally, got the advantage. However she was lost to the moment, a burning in her gaze, the instinct to kill anyone who was in her way, and in that moment, Vaza was in her way. So when the woman toppled down Miahka did not stop, even though she should have. The tip of her dagger came bearing down upon the flesh of the Keeper and right through her shoulder; crimson began to seep into the soil beneath, and the Keeper hissed from the sharp pain.

It was not a lethal wound, it could be healed, recovered. But it hurt like hell. And Miahka pushed the dagger a little deeper with that deep, lost look in her eyes. A hatred, a desire. “You got me,” Vaza spoke through gritted teeth, a hand coming up to try and pull the Xaela’s wrist away from the weapon, knowing it was better to not entice her further. “You can let go n-”(....to be continued in the next ask, part two! @vazaymir)

#// caught in a place; it's not here nor there. maybe one day it could be?#non canon rp prompts

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aricazorel · 3 years

Text

"When everything is wrong, it's you that makes it right." prompt

pairing: Kaidan Alenko x Rebecca Shepard; set during ME3; word count: 1310

“Hey, EDI? Where is Shepard?” Kaidan Alenko asked as he rode the elevator from the Docking Bay to the CIC. “Cortez said she came back from the council meeting, but no one’s seen her since.”

“The Commander took a call from Admiral Hackett in the QEC and then left without stopping until she reached her quarters, Major,” the AI informed him. “I am not certain she is in a good state of mind.”

Kaidan inclined his head. “Meaning?”

“Her biometric readings are consistent with someone who is greatly stressed. Possibly distraught.”

Without inquiring further the L2 asked, “EDI, can you take me to the loft instead of the CIC? My report can wait to be filed later.”

“Of course, Major Alenko,” she replied with what Kaidan would have labeled relief if he didn't know better.

“Thanks.”

One minute later the doors open to the loft’s deck as EDI said, “I will have all communication and related items filtered to those who can address them. Unless there is an emergency you and the Commander will not be disturbed.”

“Thanks again, EDI.”

“You are welcome.”

And with that Kaidan was left alone standing at the door to Shepard's cabin. He pushed the door chime and waited.

No answer.

He waited a few more second and made a second attempt, this time identifying who he was. Still no response.

Part of him said he should wait to be let in. But the other part said to use the keycode she had given him. The latter part one out. Quickly entering the all too familiar numbers, the date of the Eden Prime mission began, the Major stepped through the door as soon as it opened. He was greeted by an empty space.

He frowned until he heard the shower running from the bathroom to his right. He let out a sigh of relief as he walked over to the desk area. Reports and data pads scattered around. Shaking his head he quickly made neat piles of them by subject and then made his way to the living area.

Cleaning up more data pads, clothes, books, and random items, the major hoped such a small act might help her just a little bit. is attention turned to the bed. A mess as usual. He quickly straightened it up, folding back the covers. Hoping it looked inviting enough for Shepard to possibly lay down in and get some shuteye. Even if it were just for an hour.

In the meantime, he grabbed the datapad concerning the council and Hackett’s latest requests. Walking over to one of the reclining chairs, he made himself at home in it while he waited for Shepard. As he skimmed the summary of both briefings, it quickly became apparent why she had hid herself away. While he had been taking care of some tasks for her which his Specter status allowed him, she had been piled with more responsibilities, more request, more reminders that time was running out.

As if the crew of the Normandy and it’s captain didn't realize that. They were constantly on the front lines and sometimes beyond it. Trying to gather the resources they needed for the Crucible at the same time they were dealing with old rivalries as they sought allies. Anyone else would have said to hell with it and demanded the responsibilities be forced onto some someone else. But not Rebecca Shepard.

Becca knew the stakes all too well. It was personal. Hell, she'd even died once ensuring her crew lived. She didn't know how to walk away from such responsibility, especially with the knowledge and experience of the past four years she carried with her. As Garrus had once put it, she just wasn't built that way.

As admirable as that was, it left the people she defended safer but the Commander drained. Or more accurately feeling guilty and responsible for things she couldn't and shouldn't take responsibility for. It was a strength and a weakness at the same time. It was something Kaidan had learned to look for early on during the Eden Prime mission. Something he continued to watch for now and hoped his presence on the SR-2 helped ease her stress. He was more than willing to take the brunt of it. After Horizon, he'd made the promise to himself to listen and think before responding even if he were mad. Even if she were mad. He would hear her and give her the benefit of the doubt.

Kaidan closed his eyes as he took a breath. Commander Shepard was still a living and breathing person. She still had doubts and fears. Dreams and hopes. People tended to forget that. He knew he had in the heat of the moment on Horizon. Now. Here on the SR-2, he wanted more than ever to be a buffer between her troubles and her sanity. He wanted to be her soft place to land. He wanted her to know she was Becca to him and not just the Commander.

And at that moment, using his Specter status to delegate things to others who could help either more efficiently or faster was a start. He opened his eyes and set to work on the datapad doing just that. Not all of the requests from the Council and Hackett had to be handled by Shepard personally. Nowhere did it say she couldn't have help. She was notorious for recruiting unlikely sources of aid so why shouldn't this be any different? Truthfully, the only difference would be that the orders were signed by Specter Alenko instead of Specter Shepard.

The quiet sound of the bathroom door sliding open and shut shook the Major from his thoughts. He glanced up as he heard bare feet pad across the cabin’s deck plates. As she rounded the display case featuring her collection of ships Shepard paused at the top of the steps. Green eyes met his whiskey brown ones as she tilted her head in confusion. The Sentinel gave her a lopsided grin and a shrug.

Shepard returned his grin with a halfhearted one of her own. He watched as she walked slowly over towards him, her gait sluggish. He was about to say something as she came to stand by him moving to get up. She shook her head no as she moved to sit in the chair beside him. Or so he thought.

Instead Becca nudged aside the datapad and curled up in his lap, her head resting on his chest. As she snuggled against him, Kaidan automatically wrapped his arms around her. He tucked her head under his chin, her hair damp from the shower. She smelled of the floral shampoo she used. Another thing that had not changed from the SR-1 days.

Shepard remained quiet as he felt her relax against him. He let her have her quiet time, knowing it was rare for her to feel comfortable to let her guard completely down. He was only too happy that he could make her feel safe enough to do that with him. He began stroking her long red hair in an effort to lull her to sleep. Even if it were for just a little while.

“Kaidan.” His name was barely above a whisper.

“Becca, you should rest.”

“I will but you being here,” she said quietly, her hand moving to rest over his heart. “When everything is wrong, it's you that makes it right.”

“I'll do anything to make it right, sweetheart,” Kaidan assured her as he kissed the crown of her head. “Whatever you need.”

“I need you …and everyone else to fuck off for just a little bit,” she murmured into his chest. She glanced up at him with a genuine smile. “But I mostly need you.”

“I'm here Becca,” he said as he kissed her sweetly. “And I’m not going anyway. I promise.”

#trilogyappreciationweek #mass effect #kaidan alenko #rebecca shepard #!fshenko #femshep

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julesshin · 3 years

Photo

SEPTEMBER, 2019. FAIRVALE, GEORGIA.

“can you state your full name?”

shifting uncomfortably at the attention, jules sat on his hands in an attempt to stop them from shaking. it felt like ages had passed since he’d had a proper conversation with another living person.

“jules shin.”

“and where are you from, jules?”

he’d been warned that nothing but the truth was expected from him, and that anything but would jeopardize his chances of being allowed to stay in the safe zone.

“aurora, colorado, originally. but i came from athens – the UGA campus.”

though he could see one of the men writing what he assumed was his answers, the pencil on paper was too quiet for him to hear without the help of his BTE aids, which sat heavy in his pocket, their batteries having been drained for over a week.

“how would you describe yourself as a person?”

a fucking mess, he thought to himself. instead of voicing the thought, he simply shrugged.

“empathetic, i guess? i like being around people rather than being alone.”

“how many walkers have you killed?“

the question made a shiver run down his spine, eyes closing for just a moment. he had done his best to try to forget, but every single face of those things were burned into his mind.

“a few. less than ten.”

the frown on the man’s face made it obvious that that hadn’t been the answer he’d expected, but jules did his best not to let that affect him.

“how many people have you killed?”

“what?!” eyes widening in surprise, jules stared incredulously at the people before him. they couldn’t be serious, could they? when they showed no reaction to his outburst, he realized they were being serious.

“i, uh – none. i haven’t killed anyone. i don’t want to kill anyone.”

“are you searching for anybody?”

still reeling from the last question, jules suddenly hesitated. he wanted nothing more than to stay in this safe zone, if only to give himself a chance to catch his breath but if these people had hurt other people, what would they do if they found his family? although they were several states away and most probably dead, that wasn’t a chance he wanted to take.

“no, it’s just me. i’ve got no one else here.”

jules caught himself off-guard with how easily the lie had slipped out, but showed no outwards reaction. if he wanted to stay, he needed to keep his cool.

“why are you here?“

“safety. there’s that saying – safety in numbers, y’know?”

“would you consider yourself a team player?“

“i like to think so. i don’t do well on my own.”

the people in the room shared a look, one that left jules’ blood run cold. not knowing what it had meant, he was just about to start rambling when his thoughts were cut short by the next question.

“are you the type of person who will try to make the best out of a bad situation?“

“for others sake, yes. we’re all in a shit situation, there’s no point in dragging anyone further down.”

his mind quickly wandered to his younger sister gemma, how he’d spent his teenage years doing just about anything to get a smile on her face, even if he’d had a terrible day. if they let him in, he’d do his best to do the same for the people here.

“what skills do you have that will benefit the community and your fellow survivors?“

if he was being honest, jules didn’t think he had many skills that would help anyone survive. then again, he’d managed to keep himself alive this long, and that had to count for something.

“i know how to pick locks? i also know some basic first aid, but not much.”

“can you handle yourself in a crisis?”

jules hadn’t meant the huff of laughter that passed his lips, but a few months on his own had clearly left his social skills a little rusty. feeling his face redden, he faked a cough to cover up the sound.

“i think anyone who’s managed to stay alive this long can manage themselves to some extent, don’t you think?”

the interviewer nodded, but gave no other outside reaction. his stoic appearance left jules feeling a little unnerved but, then again, so did everything else recently.

“what are you willing to do to protect the people and things you care about?”

“anything.”

although he wasn’t sure what anything entailed in this state of the world, jules meant it. the last thing he wanted was blood on his hands, and he’d do just about everything possible to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

“just one more question for now. do you have any pre-existing medical conditions our medical staff should be informed about?”

the question he’d been dreading since he’d arrived at fairvale, the one that would make them realize how he might just be the weakest link. then again, he’d survived this long and that had to count for something, right?

“i’m hard of hearing. i, uh, i actually wear hearing aids most of the time, but my batteries died about a week ago – i was actually looking for some when i found you guys. but i read lips, and i use asl too. i can manage without them, it’s just a little hard for me to watch my own back.”

slightly out of breath from having spoken so fast, jules’ gaze flickered nervously between everyone in the room, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. he bit his lip nervously, if not only to stop himself from saying anything more. after a long moment of silence, the interviewer finally spoke again.

“alright, jules, you can follow me to the clinic now, alright?”

still not trusting his voice, jules nodded and complied, trying to push down the paranoia that continued to scream in his mind.

#catastrophictask #━ ❖ 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 * • ｡ self.#2/3 doneeee #━ ❖ 𝙁𝙀𝘼𝙍 * • ｡ about.

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Twenty Four)

Ohhh this chapter is sad, but honestly the scene with Johnny is beautiful. TW for mentions of depression/Peter coping by way of too many pills. Just basically what you’d expect after last chapter. Tissues are needed.

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

**************

Three months later…

Afterwards, after everything, after mysteriously appearing at Haven Mercy Hospital and being lost unconscious for most of two weeks, after the panic and anxiety and screaming, after repeated sedation and psychological evaluations, after multiple prescriptions for pain pills and sleep aids and mood stabilizers--

--afterwards, even three months afterwards, Peter just never quite recovered.

The Omega had always been lean, but afterwards Peter couldn’t seem to put on weight at all. His cheekbones stayed sharply defined, his collarbone oddly prominent beneath his shirts. His wrists were fragile, skinny jeans loose at his waist, and the dusting of freckles across his nose stark against skin that stayed pale no matter how often his friends came along to drag him out into the winter sun.

The aches and pains from his ordeal lingered far longer than they should have, and the Omega compensated with prescription level narcotics to keep himself numb. And If he wasn’t numb then Peter was angry, sharp and caustic and swinging between furious that Cable had ruined his life and devastated thinking about Wade left alone without him.

It wreaked havoc on his mind to be so constantly close to out of control, so Peter took dose after dose of the stabilizers to keep himself steady and empty and disassociated from it all.

Once he was numb and steady, the Omega was only ever tired, but nightmares were a constant companion since leaving the hospital so Peter took the sleeping pills every night before passing out comatose in his bed so he could make it till morning.

Numb. Empty. Exhausted.

The world was dull, extra strength blockers muting the Omega to the emotions or scent of anyone who passed by, extra strength suppressants keeping him so far past blank that other Omega’s stopped in the street and stared at him in shock, Alphas started to go out of their way to understand why such a pretty Omega scented so pale but then turned and left again when they caught sight of the empty in Peter’s eyes.

This new reality was far away from the giddy happiness that had been days with his Alpha, the drugging lust of unbridled moments when touches grew careless and kisses grew sharp, the hazy beauty of trust and love and adoration sank deep into dark red eyes…

This was so far away from everything and the thought never failed to make Peter’s mood dive, to make his body ache as if grief left physical bruises, to bring his nightmares back around into vivid focus.

But the pain pills helped. The mood stabilizers helped. The sleep aids helped. And the Omega refilled the prescriptions as often as allowed and took the pills all together so he didn’t have to go a single moment without something to shield his heart and soul from the mate sickness tearing ragged edges at his sanity.

The award money from the expose against Justin Hammer paid the bills, and even though Peter had been offered several different jobs and several glowing recommendations both from his former boss at the Bugle and Tony Stark himself, the Omega turned every opportunity down.

He didn’t have to work quite yet and he didn’t want to work maybe ever again, so the Omega simply didn’t.

He simply didn’t.

The Omega didn’t do much of anything, really. It was a miserable winter in New York so most reasons for wanting to stay home were at least partially credible. His reasons for avoiding going to the movies or out for dinner with his friends and May were less credible, but everyone tried to be patient, tried to be understanding, tried to give Peter the benefit of the doubt and all the time he needed to work past whatever had happened.

They didn’t really know what had happened of course. Doctor Grey had assured May that Peter’s hurt hadn’t been everything awful like they’d initially feared but she couldn’t-- or wouldn’t-- say more than that.

Nobody knew and Peter wasn’t inclined to say much of anything anymore, much less to talk about his time away, so May never pushed but only offered, “I’m here if you want to talk, Peter.” and his friends acted as if nothing was wrong, acted like he was being a cranky Omega and just needed a little bit of time to get over it.

From a doctor’s standpoint, neither approach was ideal but on the days Peter felt anything at all, he felt a little grateful for people who loved him and tried.

Gwen and Mary Jane came over at least once a week to bring Peter food and invade his space by way of cuddles and movie marathons. Mary Jane would snuggle close into Peter’s side and purr into his ear, rub her cheek into his shoulder and try to share her muted scent with the other Omega, giving comfort by way of shared biologies and the knowing that sometimes only an Omega could understand how someone else was hurting.

Gwen’s approach was more along the lines of loving bullying, the Alpha pushing and prodding and practically manhandling Peter up against her body until they were plastered together on the couch, or hauling Pete’s lean frame right on her lap and hand feeding him whatever food they’d brought along, growling and teasing and being as obnoxious an Alpha as she dared until the Omega would finally, reluctantly eat.

Harry came over more often than the girls did, the instinct to protect an Omega he loved over-riding the other responsibilities in his life. The best thing about being Norman Osborn’s son was a guaranteed paycheck and position at the company whether he was physically present or not, and Harry took full advantage of the privilege.

Some mornings he brought along the newspaper and a new book for Peter and cajoled the Omega outside and at least down to a little cafe for breakfast, other times he dropped by for lunch with a stack of applications for internships or jobs he thought Peter would be interested in. Every once in a while he’d get the Omega out of the house after dark for a movie or even just a walk through the park to look at the stars and Peter always smiled a little bit those nights, smiled and one time even stood on his toes to give Harry a very soft kiss on the cheek.

Johnny only came by a few times, once or twice with the girls where he sat awkwardly in the other chair and watched as Gwen and MJ chatted amiably about their days while brushing at Peter’s hair and fussing about his clothes, and once or twice with Harry when they went for lunch or a walk. The Alpha was withdrawn and quiet, never quite looking at Peter but unable to look away all at the same time.

If Peter were healthy and normal and whole he might push Johnny up to a wall and demand to know what was wrong, why the Alpha was being weird, or he might even cry and ask why Johnny hadn't come to the hospital.

But the Omega wasn’t healthy and normal and whole so he ignored his friend and kept his very limited energy focused on the people that were actively trying to engage him, not the person who couldn't seem to find anything to say, the person who seemed content to let ten years of friendship fade away because Peter had been gone.

“How’s Johnny?” May would ask when she called every single night, and every single night Peter answered, “He’s fine, Auntie. He’s fine and I’m fine and we’re all-- we’re all fine.”

And it was a lie, it was always a lie. Peter wasn’t fine and his friends weren’t fine and nothing about anything was fine.

It was a lie, and as the days out of the hospital turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, the prescriptions got refilled and the curtains stayed drawn and Peter sank further and further into himself. He cancelled plans and turned down invitations and snapped at the girls when they came in uninvited, dodged Harry’s attempts at drawing him out and the few times that Johnny looked up and met his eyes, Peter simply looked away.

He was tired and he couldn’t pretend otherwise anymore.

He was tired, but May and Gwen and MJ and Harry and Johnny didn’t seem to get it, because every time the Omega cancelled plans yet again, they just made a date for later and tried again.

Again and again and again.

And again and again and again until Peter quit answering the door and started avoiding their calls.

“Leave me alone.” he whispered to his phone as it rang shrill in the silent apartment, the screen over bright and noise jarring. It was Gwen or it was Mary Jane, it was May or it was Harry, it wouldn’t be Johnny but it was maybe Doctor Grey calling to check on him and the Omega couldn’t do it any more.

“Please just leave me alone.”

****************

“Peter, you should come for dinner tonight. I’m inviting the neighbor across the street, do you remember her? Her grandson Flash used to go to school with you and Gwen ages ago. He’s home from the military and--”

“I’m already in bed, May.” Peter could hardly lift his head from the pillow, the sedatives running drugged and lethargic through his system. “Maybe another time.”

“...I’m worried about you, Peter.” the Alpha whispered. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you, love. Have you thought any more about coming to stay with me? We could move you out of that place over a weekend and you could just come home with me.”

“M’fine, Auntie.”

“No you’re not.”

“No.” the phone slipped from the Omega’s hand and clattered on the floor as he fell into thankfully dreamless sleep. “No m’not.”

****************

“Pete?” One windy, awful day Johnny let himself into Peter’s apartment and called for the Omega. “Pete are you-- it’s Johnny. I um-- I knocked but you didn’t answer so I used my key.”

There was no answer, and the Alpha took another step into the entry way. “Pete? Are you home?”

“M’here.” Peter was sat on the floor in the very middle of his living room, fingers clenched into the shaggy carpet, back ram rod straight, face washed bloodless and frightened. “Johnny, I’m here.”

“Hey hey hey.” Johnny shucked away his scarf and hurried to kneel at Peter’s side, three months of awkwardness dissolving in an instant as protect won out over uncertain in the Alpha’s core. “What’s going on? Pete? What happened, what happened?”

He pried the Omega’s fingers out of the rug and rubbed them between his palms, blowing gently to try and warm him up. “It’s freezing in here, honey. How long have you been sitting in the cold? Is your heater working?”

“Dunno.” Peter shook his head. “Dunno how long I’ve been here. How long have you been here? Has my door been open the entire time?”

“...no.” Johnny cursed under his breath when he got a peek into Peter’s glazed eyes. “No, Pete. Your door’s only open cos I came through a minute ago. What happened? What is going on with you?”

“I got in a taxi. Told him to take me to the movie theater.” It was outright eerie how Peter talked these days, as if he was reciting memorized facts, like he’d told himself the story over and over before telling anyone else. “Haven’t left the house in four days, thought it was time. We drove eight blocks, maybe nine and then a big truck changed lanes too quickly and we almost crashed.”

“Shit, that’s scary.” the Alpha inched closer so he could rub at Peter’s shoulders too. “You’re alright though? Nobody got hurt and you made it home. Everything’s okay?”

“I panicked.” Peter said dully. “Started screaming, pretty sure I started screaming. There was a lot of noise and I don’t usually hear much noise. Guess it was me. Must have been me, right? I must have been screaming.”

He was unfocused, staring, and missed the way Johnny grimaced away from the monotone words. “I told the cab driver to take me home, told him to take me back and he brought me here instead so I just-- I just sat down. You came in. I’m freezing.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re practically frozen solid.” Johnny pushed back all his questions and worry about Peter panicking, ignored the nagging feeling of unease when the Omega referred to his apartment as here instead of home, and focused instead on getting Peter warm. “Come on, come here with me. Nice hot shower and I’ll get you some food, alright? Thai food from that place down the way you like so much. How many egg rolls do you want?”

“I’m not hungry.” Peter was awkwardly pliant as Johnny got him to his feet and helped him down the hall, almost limp as the Alpha yanked his shirt up over his head and then his jeans down and off as well. He’d never been much of a shy Omega, not around his friends, not around the people he knew and loved and trusted, but it was awkward how Peter just stood there and let Johnny get him nearly naked without protest. “Not-- not hungry.”

“Sure you are.” the Alpha kept his eyes on Peter’s face and forced a cheerful smile. “We’re due for a lunch date anyway, right? It’s about time I start helping out, sorry I’ve been MIA but I’m here now and we can get warm and then we’ll eat and then we can talk and then--”

“I’m not hungry.” The Omega said again and this time he sounded exhausted. “Just tired. Cold. Will you shower with me?”

Before everything, Johnny would have jumped at the chance to shower with the pretty Omega. Lathering shampoo into Peter’s thick hair and getting his hands to wash down that gorgeous body was the sort of thing every Alpha dreamed about, especially an Alpha that had been half in love with the Omega Peter Parker since he’d been old enough to know what love was.

Before everything, Johnny would have made an absolute fool of himself clambering into the shower and grabbing the Omega up tight, but this was after everything and the Alpha couldn’t think about all the things he’d wanted to do with Peter someday.

After everything, all Johnny could think about was how small Peter looked with his hair too long and curling by his ears, shaggy and stringy and falling into empty brown eyes, and how Peter’s hands shook as he reached for Johnny’s belt and the way that damn ring looked so big and out of place on the Omega’s slim fingers.

“Peter...” he started lamely, uselessly. “Maybe I’m not the best person to--”

“Where have you been, Johnny?” the Omega asked softly, and guilt rose bitter in the back of Johnny’s throat. “You didn’t come to the hospital, don’t have anything to say if you come around with everyone else. I don’t want to see anyone but at least at first I would’a liked to see you. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry.” There were a whole lot of things the Alpha should have said right then, but all he could manage was, “I’m sorry. I-- I’m here now though, Pete. If you want me to stay.”

“I’m cold.” Came the simple answer, and In the small bathroom it was more obvious than ever how Peter didn’t scent of anything these days, not honeysuckle and lavender, not even panic and heartbreak and pain. His scent was blank like his eyes and expression were blank and Johnny felt the emptiness like a knife to the gut.

“I can keep you warm.” the words were out in the air between them before the Alpha had even fully decided to say it. “I-- I can keep you warm, Pete.”

The shower was barely big enough for the both of them, so Johnny held Peter tight up against his body, cuddling the Omega over his heart and wrapping his arms around the frightfully thin frame. “Such a sad Omega.” he whispered when Peter shivered and tried to curl closer. “So many bad things for such a pretty, perfect Omega to go through. M’so sorry, Pete. So sorry. C’mere love, right here, c’mere.”

The Alpha kept up a steady litany of sweet nothings as they stood beneath the water, picking up shampoo and working it gently through the Omega’s hair, sweeping the bubbles over Peter’s skin and down his back until they swirled away down the drain. They didn’t need to talk-- or rather, they did need to talk but not right this second-- and Johnny didn’t think he could handle hearing Peter lie about being fine, so he stayed whispering quiet comfort and careful touches until the shower ran cold and it was time to get out.

He left the Omega swathed in a thick towel and then dried himself off and jogged for his phone. An order into the Thai place Peter liked so much meant Johnny would hopefully have an easier time getting the Omega to eat and if Peter would eat then they could maybe talk and Johnny could stop feeling like he was going to lose his mind.

“Hey sweetheart.” he set his phone down when Peter came shuffling into the living room wrapped in a threadbare blanket. “Let me get you some clothes, alright? I already turned up the heat but you can’t be warm in just that blanket so I’ll get you some pajamas. Give me a sec, okay?”

“What are you doing here, Johnny?” Peter sounded more alert, though his eyes were still dull and tone flat. “I’ve only seen you a few times in the last three months, why the hell are you showing up and showering with me and calling me honey. What are you doing?”

The Alpha swallowed uncomfortably. “I ordered some food, Pete. Why don't we eat and then we can talk?″

“Tell me why you’re here, or get the hell out.” Peter interrupted, a flash of anger in his eyes that was there and gone in less than a blink. “I’m tired. And I’m cold. And I wanna sleep. Don’t have the energy to entertain anyone today or listen to half ass apologies or-- or pity.”

There it was again, anger extinguished almost as soon as it sparked. “Why are you here?”

“... I’m sorry I didn’t come see you in the hospital.” Johnny began slowly, haltingly, sinking down into a chair opposite the couch and clasping his hands between his knees. “I should’ve been there. They weren’t letting any of us back to see you except Mary Jane and when I heard why they thought seeing an Alpha might-- might bother you, I couldn’t handle it. I ran. Didn’t want to be there.”

Peter only blinked at him, and the Alpha cursed his own weakness before continuing, “Wish I could say I was strong enough to handle it like Gwen and Harry were but I kept thinking about you hurt and it made me throw up every time. Eventually I figured I’d only upset you if I came around and I didn’t want to do that. I know everyone thinks I’m an asshole for leaving you alone but--”

Johnny spread his hands helplessly. “--I’m here now, okay? I’m here.”

Peter didn’t reply, and Johnny nodded in weary understanding. “It’s not enough, I know. Too little, too late. But I just, I gotta say something Pete and I want you to let me get all the way through it before you reply or yell at me or throw me out, alright? Can I-- can I ask that?”

“Ask whatever you want.” Peter burrowed back further into the blanket, playing idly with the ring loose around his finger. “Everyone sorta says what they want these days anyway. Go ahead.”

It was permission but it was also a tiny bit bitter and the Alpha hesitated for a moment. “Um-- okay. Okay here we go. I know you and I aren’t as close as you and MJ are, and I know you’ve got more history with Harry and Gwen than with me. But I--” Johnny cleared his throat. “I love you just as much as they do. I know I’ve been gone and that’s real shitty of me, but I love you Pete, I do.”

The Omega twitched uncomfortably, and Johnny rushed on before he lost his nerve, “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened and shit, I dunno if I could handle hearing it but I’m not stupid, Pete. You’re barely functioning, your neck is all scarred up, you don’t scent like nothing anymore and that’s all mate sickness. I know it is. The lady doctor told us you weren’t hurt the way we--”

The Alpha’s eyes flickered red in distress, and Peter looked away. “--the way we all thought you’d been, but you were still hurt and it's killing me. I hate thinking about you sitting here alone and-- and sad and I just-- okay you know what? I’m just gonna say it.”

Johnny dug his fingers into his legs in an attempt to ground himself, and blurted, “Pete. I want to bond with you.”

The Omega made a horrified sort of noise that cut deep deep into Johnny’s heart but he ignored the pain and the way Peter jerked away from him as if terrified, and hurried to finish-- “I just mean a platonic bond, Omega. Nothing romantic, nothing like that. I love you and we’ve had great heats in the past so we know we are compatible at least that way and once it was over, once the mating heat passed I wouldn’t ask anything from you, Pete. Nothing. Ever. Not regular, uh, sexy things and not even your other heats if you wanted to work through them alone.”

“Johnny.”

“I’m not asking you to play house Omega with me.” The words tumbled out faster and faster now. “You could move in with me if you wanted cos I’ve got an extra bedroom or you could stay here or move in with May or do whatever you want. The only way to fix this, to keep you from hurting this bad is another bond and Pete, I’d platonic bond with my best friend-- with you-- in a second to save you.”

“Johnny--!”

“No questions asked, Pete.” the Alpha looked like he might be close to breaking down, distress forcing it’s way through his blockers and soaking his scent gray. “You don’t have to tell me anything, or give me anything or owe me anything. You tell me ‘yes’ and we’ll take care of it right now so you can move on past all this. You tell me ‘no’ and I’ll drop it right now and never say it again. I promise. Pete, I promise.”

“No.” The thought of mating with anyone other than his Alpha made Peter’s heart wrench in two. “Johnny, no. I-- I can’t. I can’t.”

Silence in the room, and for a long minute the Omega thought Johnny would get angry and demand an explanation, for a longer minute he thought the Alpha might actually cry, but Johnny didn’t do either of those things.

The Alpha only looked away to gather himself, and then cleared his throat, “Okay. The offer is here if you want it, alright? Any time. I love you, Pete.”

“I love you too.” Barely even a whisper, and Peter tried to smile but it was awful and not enough to fill the void that had so suddenly ripped open between the two friends. “Johnny, I love you. And you’re a good Alpha. But I can’t. I can’t.”

“Okay.” Johnny said again, and got to his feet. “Okay that’s-- I um, I ordered food, alright? It’s already paid for and all you’ll have to do is sign for it. I’m gonna go before I mess things up anymore, so I’ll see you around, yeah? Next time Harry comes or maybe when MJ shows up or maybe when Gwen convinces us all to do something stupid like roller skate or--”

“I’m already bonded, Johnny!” Peter wasn’t really sure why he went ahead and nearly shouted it, but the truth was there now and Johnny froze mid step, expression washing with disbelief. “And it’s not-- it’s not a trauma bond okay? I wasn’t scared or searching for stability after something terrible, I wasn’t coerced into anything, I’m bonded. Mated. And that’s why I can’t-- I can’t with you. I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t a trauma bond?” Johnny didn’t sit back down quite yet, but he didn’t reach for his scarf and coat either. “What else could it be, Pete? I don’t-- I don’t understand.”

“Everyone thinks my Alpha hurt me.” Fury, snapping in Peter’s eyes for a split second. “They keep saying things like forced and Stockholm Syndrome as if my Alpha is capable of doing anything besides taking care of me and loving me and keeping me safe. All my mate ever did was try to keep me safe and I wanted to rip the doctor’s throats out for talking about my Alpha like he was some sort of a monster.”

“...your mate.” This time the Alpha did sit down, eyes wide and wondering. “Pete, are you telling me that while you were gone you found your mate?”

“We scent matched.” It felt so good to tell the truth, so good to finally talk and the admission ran honey warm through Peter’s veins. “My suppressants bled out for some reason--” time travel. “--and I knew him more certainly than I’d ever known anyone or anything before in my life.”

“You scent matched.” Johnny repeated. “I didn’t know that was a real thing anymore.”

“I didn’t either.” the Omega whispered. “But we are soulmates, me and my Alpha. Scent matched and bonded and my mark--” he touched the scars reverently. “I wasn’t with him long enough to have a mating heat but that doesn’t change that we’re bonded. Meant to be together. I’m his and he is--”

It felt like a prayer, like a confession, something sacred and beautiful and meant to be hushed, so Peter lowered his voice even more, “-- he is mine. I’m his and he is mine and it’s so much more than those words, I can’t explain it, Johnny. I can’t explain it.”

“The ring--”

“His. He made it for me.”

“But how did you end up in the hospital? Why were you unconscious for so long? If this was soulmates and true love then where is your Alpha?” Johnny didn’t mean to sound upset, truth be told he was relieved through to his very core that Peter could tell him it was love and not trauma, but he was upset all the same. “Where is your Alpha and why is he letting you suffer like this? It’s been months, Pete! Where is he!”

“...I don’t know how to find him.” And just like that, the smile was gone from Peter’s face, the warmth leeching from his body and leaving him shaking, shivering, eyes gone flat and dull again. “We are mates but somehow we aren't meant to be together so we-- we aren’t. We can’t be together so I’m here and he’s-- he’s out there.”

“Oh, Pete.”

“I’m here and my mate is somewhere out there.” Peter said again, motioning listlessly to the air. “And I don’t know how to find my way back to him. I miss him, Johnny. Every single day. Every single minute. I didn’t know I could grieve like this and still survive, but here I am anyway, whether I want to be or not. Grieving and surviving even if I don’t want to be.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“This is the first time I’e been able to say it out loud without breaking down.” the Omega dug his fingers into his hair and tugged at the damp strands. “I dunno if that means I’m healing or-- or if I’m finally numb enough that it doesn’t hurt so bad. Dunno which would be better.”

“Such a sad Omega.” Offer to bond swept aside, misgivings and worry and guilt over his own shortcomings as a friend pushed away, Johnny moved to sit next to the Omega, gathered Peter’s thin frame up into his arms and hugged him close. “Oh such a sad Omega, so so sorry honey. So sorry. Sweet pretty thing, so much sad for such a perfect Omega--”

Peter tried to laugh hearing the Alpha talk that way, but it caught over a sob and turned right into tears and Johnny only held him tighter, crooning into his ear and rumbling quiet comfort into his skin for a long long time.

It wasn’t all the way the truth, Peter had said nothing about time travel and one hundred and four days and mutants, but he could say something about his mate and it felt like maybe the steel bands at his chest loosened enough to let the him breathe a tiny bit.

And later after the food had come and Peter had managed a few bites, the Omega looked up and asked, “You would have platonic bonded with me to save me?”

“In a heartbeat.” Johnny broke an egg roll in half and handed half to Peter. “Still would if you really wanted me to.”

“But you’d be stuck with me.” Peter pointed out. “Couldn’t get a real mate or move on with your life and get married. Even if you wanted to keep hooking up with random people, they’d see the silver mark on your neck and know you’re bonded. No one sleeps with someone who is bonded, you wouldn’t even be able to date anymore.”

“There’s worse things out there than to be bonded to my best friend, Pete.” Johnny leaned over and lay a very sweet, very chaste kiss on the Omega’s lips. “You want me to stay the night tonight? We could watch bad shark movies and if you feel up to it, you could tell me more about your mate.”

“I could handle a bad shark movie.” Peter decided and the, ‘I can’t handle talking more about my mate’ went unspoken between them. “Thank you, Johnny. You’re-- you’re a good Alpha.”

“We’ll figure this out, Pete.” the Alpha tried hard to keep the worry from his tone and from his scent as he offered Peter another bite of rice. “I promise, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

***************

It was easier after talking with Johnny.

Or maybe not easier, because nothing was easier and everything was still miserable but it was… it was less after talking with Johnny. Being able to say that he was mated, that he was bonded and in love with his Alpha was a relief and some days Peter felt like maybe he was edging towards coping.

Out of all his friends, Johnny would be the one not to ask questions, the one to simply accept what he was told and move on from it. Peter didn’t have to try and justify how he’d fallen in love in what everyone thought was two weeks, he didn’t have to explain the nightmares or why it was taking so long to recover. Johnny was relieved just to know and in the days following the Alpha’s platonic proposal, Peter found himself hiding a little less, withdrawing a little less, being numb just a little less now that he knew someone had at least a piece of the truth.

So one day when Mary Jane stopped by with arms full of groceries and that patented, beautiful smile that promised everything would be okay, Peter actually opened the door before she had to use her key and when the pretty Omega quietly suggested they all go out for dinner to celebrate Gwen’s recent promotion, Peter actually agreed.

“Really?” Mary Jane’s green eyes widened in delight. “Pete! She’ll be so happy, oh my gosh! Everyone’s going and we’ll have so much fun, it will be just like old times!”

Nothing would ever be just like old times and MJ didn’t mean anything by it of course, so Peter swallowed back the urge to flinch and run and pasted a focused, cheerful smile on his face as she badgered him into the shower to get clean and fussed through combing his hair back out of his eyes and exclaimed loudly over the state of his clothing before finally settling on something that hung at least somewhat flattering on Peter’s still too thin frame.

It was almost worth the mild panic attack over being out in public to see the way Harry grinned at him and to hear the excited whoop as Gwen flung herself into Peter’s arms and tried to squeeze the life from him. The Alpha was gorgeous tonight, dressed up and glammed out with hair done and jewelry sparkling and smile lit to mega watt as she screeched in excitement about her new job and all the perks and the uptick in her bank account and how happy she was to be celebrating with all her friends.

“Alright?” Johnny pressed close for a long hug and murmured into Peter’s ear, crooning comfortingly when Peter clung a little too tight. “Hard to be out with everyone?”

“Dunno the last time we did this.” Peter’s smile was practiced and forced, his tone purposefully cheerfully and eyes wide to combat the exhaustion sinking in around his nerves. He’d forgone the usual several sleep aids today so he’d be awake and present for Gwen’s big night but after so long dependent on the pills he still felt slow, lethargic, as if the entire world was moving just a half step too fast and he couldn’t quite keep up.

“You need to leave, you let me know.” the Alpha murmured and Peter nodded gratefully before pulling away.

The evening wasn’t all bad. Someone popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and Peter nearly cracked his glass when he jumped, applause and the Happy Birthday chorus from further back in the restaurant abruptly brought to mind the fact that Peter didn’t even know his Alphas birthday and he had to clear his throat several times to get rid of the sorrow that clouded up behind his eyes.

The evening wasn’t all bad, he managed to laugh a few times over Gwen’s hilarity and the champagne ticked not unpleasantly and what little Peter ate tasted expensive going down.

The evening wasn’t all bad.

The worst moment came as Harry finished giving Gwen a toast, glasses raised and smiles bright as he congratulated their friend on her promotion, promised to definitely take advantage of the discounts she was going to get as senior staff and teased the other Alpha about finally moving out of her tiny apartment and into a real place like a real adult--

---the worst moment came just then, when Peter was struggling to stay focused amid all the noise and all the chatter, anxiety doubling up beneath his chest and making it hard to focus, his head swimming with all the sensory input after months of self imposed isolation and drug dulled hours--

--the worst moment came as the Alpha at the table next to them got to his knees and opened a ring box with a flourish, showing off a diamond glinting beneath the festive lights as he professed his love for his Omega in deep tones and flowery phrases, promising to love her forever, promising to cherish her forever, promising infinity if she would be his.

And that was the very worst moment, as the suppressants and blockers bled from Peter’s system abruptly to make way for soul deep grief that burst sour and spoiled into the air, lavender and honeysuckle tinging bright for just a second before it drowned beneath the weighted black of sheer despair and Johnny turned to his side and vomited onto the floor as the scent of hopelessness and fear rolled from the Omega and poisoned the atmosphere in the room.

Gwen gagged and Harry had to turn away as desperate Omega clogged their senses and and fogged their mind and Mary Jane reached out for Peter with a frightened cry but the Omega was already on his feet and running away, stumbling over his feet and knocking into tables and he tried to get outside and away.

The cabbie had seen his fair share of compromised passengers, but tonight he thanked his lucky stars he was a Beta and only partly susceptible to the misery hanging around the half coherent Omega in his back seat. The scent was still potent enough to make him nauseous though, and when they finally made it to the apartment building and the distraught Omega stumbled out, the Beta turned his sign off for a few minutes and lurched from the cab so he could try and breathe again.

The bottle of sleeping pills rattled in Peter’s hands as he tried to open it, the cap tearing off and medication scattering everywhere alongside the pain pills he’d tried to open just a minute before and Peter stared at the mess in horror for a full minute before another wave of sickness hit him hard and he went down to his knees, pushing his forehead into the floor and screaming.

Across town, May grabbed for her phone when it rang with Peter’s number, ignoring the missed calls from Harry, from Gwen, from Johnny and Mary Jane so she could ask, “Peter? Sweetheart are you alright? What’s going on? What’s going on?!”

“I miss my mate.” Peter was sobbing, choking, the words muffled because he couldn’t manage to lift his head long enough to talk clearly. “Auntie, I miss my mate. I miss my Alpha. I want to go home. I want to go home.”

And May slid down the wall to sit on the floor, phone pressed close to her ear and hand over her eyes as she cried right along with her nephew.

I want to go home.

Oh sweetheart, I know. I know.

I’m so so sorry.

So so sorry.

******************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER

Hey! We broke 160k with this chapter which makes MTW officially my second longest single fic after PH! And we aren’t done yet! Holla!

Also, for anyone who wants to know, there is a very specific reason why we are only seeing Peter’s side of the story right now, but once we start seeing Wade’s side of the story, it will all make sense!

******************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @ricecakeandhoney @ardatlily @fawnandgays @bluedreamdino @bibbarnes @blackstar1602 @hi-inevitable-im-deadpool @scientifically-lesbian-jesus @the-pagely-gun-slinger @oshuncheyenne @the-dragonwolf-den @pumpkin-spidey @sozvuchiy @cappunico @tired-dragons01 @chiby-chan @ahumoki0 @kanizsacollage @tulipsnbigcats @hiddenaurora @notchronicle24 @marvels-gurl @iridescent-idiot @badndbourgeoisie @eversomniator @local1dreamer @loveisblindwade @ssssssssssssssssssssslytherin @theunwantedomega

#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #time travel au #abo dynamics #soulmate au #gwen stacy #mary jane watson #harry osborn #johnny storm #may parker

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attack-on-neverland · 3 years

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2.1 The Main Trio

In both Attack on Titan and The Promised Neverland, the main trio consists of three character tropes which are The Empath, The Distant but Loving and The Savior (who I also like to call “The Genocidal Maniac.” The existence of these tropes especially in the main three characters is important to recognize because these three are also generalizations of the attitudes of the people of their world. This mix keeps things relatively balanced and stable until one of them breaks the delicate balance for whatever reason.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa (AOT)

Norman, Emma, and Ray (TPN)

1. Armin and Emma - The Empath

Armin (AOT) and Emma (TPN) make up The Empath. Both initially reject the idea of having to strike first and would avoid casualties at all cost. These characters would rather risk failure than harm innocent people (again, initially). They have a deep sense of compassion and can even empathize with the enemy and prefer to talk things out rather than engage in battle. Both Armin and Emma are also the ones to eventually stop the genocidal plans of Eren (AOT) and (Norman). Both characters also selflessly sacrificed themselves to save their loved ones.

Armin dreams of reaching the outside world and seeing the wonders of nature, which is why he joins the Survey Corps in order to secure peace for them once again. In the face of death, he chose to talk it out with Bertholdt, holder of the Colossal Titan and tried to get him to join their side. Even when his life was threatened, Armin hesitated to strike first, which only changed when Captain Levi instructed him to do so or else they would be killed. It is also Armin who stops Eren’s plan of destroying everything outside of Paradis and establishes the Alliance. Armin willingly sacrificed himself and got burnt alive by the Collosal Titan to ensure that he could buy time for Eren’s plan to work (He got revived eventually). However, he does live by the principle that “People who can’t throw something important [humanity] away can never hope to change anything.” This represents an eventual shift in Armin as his innocence is broken and he abides by the rules of war rather than reject them completely, opposite to Emma.

Emma also dreamed of the outside world and meeting all of her siblings with their families before they discovered the painful reality of their world. Throughout the whole series, it was shown how Emma would do literally anything to protect her younger siblings as she would stay behind to hold down enemies, set off on dangerous journeys with the older kids, and even struck a deal with That Person* which meant sacrificing herself to safely bring everyone back to the human world. However, Emma’s empathy doesn’t only manifest in her sibling relationships, but extends to everyone, even their biggest enemies. She befriends devils Mujika and Sonju, forgives Lucas after he endangered her life by bringing her to Goldy Pond, and extends her love to all the adults who were the reason behind the existence of the plantation. She cries out when she sees the demons being massacred by Norman, and begs for him to reverse things. She recognizes that no one is inherently bad and that everyone is just doing what they can to survive. In the end, Emma’s deal with That Person reveals that she traded what she loved the most (her family and her memories of them) in exchange for the freedom of all humans. This resulted in Emma ending up on some mountaintop (in the human world) with no concrete memories, but feelings of pain, longing, and sadness while all the other kids lived their happy lives together and arrived safely in their destination. Trust me, I cried BUCKETS.

2. Mikasa and Ray - The Distant but Loving

Mikasa (AOT) and Ray (TPN) make up the Distantly Rational but Loving trope. Aside from both having black hair and emo hairstyles, these two characters both exhibit the most skill and wits among all the other characters. In times of turmoil and panic, these two managed to keep a cool head (most of the time) and allowed everyone else to survive in safety. Both characters can be said to be distant because they are rarely seen enjoying themselves, presumably because of their traumatic backgrounds which is why all of their energy is focused on getting stronger and saving everyone. Their loyalty is unmatched, and they would be willing to destroy anyone who gets in the way of the safety of their families. This attitude stems from dark backgrounds that made both characters value life and the people around them so much. Despite their willingness to achieve any lengths, these characters still manage to think logically, and do not intend to cause unnecessary harm even to enemies.

Mikasa used to be a sweet and loving child who enjoyed the little things and simply being around her parents. However, everything changed when her parents were murdered by kidnappers, leaving Mikasa an orphan. She witnessed all of this violence and was supposed to be killed as well if she weren’t saved by Eren. From that day on, Mikasa grew to be outwardly distant, presumably to avoid getting attached to anyone who could possibly disappear in an instance. However, she was also attached to Eren and all of her comrades in the Survey Corps. She tried to hide that vulnerability under her cold exterior, but no one would ever doubt her love for her comrades. Witnessing her parents’ deaths made her swore to become stronger in order to protect those she loved.

From a young age, Ray was seen to be quieter than the other kids. Instead of playing, he would spend his time reading books, doing research, and observing everyone. This is because he discovered early on that Gracefield was not an adoption home, but a farm with children as their produce. However, he had to stay quiet and volunteered himself to become Mama’s spy so that he would not be shipped out early. The trauma stems from the awareness that each shipped out orphan became meals for demons, but being unable to do anything about it. For years, he had been a slave to Mama in order to acquire the parts he needed to aid their escape plan. It is evident how his loyalty to his siblings does not fade as he would sacrifice himself for the safety of everyone else. Like Mikasa, he still keeps a calm demeanor and can rationalize under dire circumstances.

3. Eren and Norman - The Self-sacrificing Savior / "Genocidal Maniac"

Eren (AOT) and Normal (TPN) both make up “The Savior” or the “Genocidal Maniac”. These boys both start out as innocent, wide-eyed children who wanted to explore the world. They are both passionate about saving all of their family and even sacrificed themselves for their safety. However, they are both drastically changed by a deeper understanding of their reality. From being hopeful optimists, they come to see the reality that no one else realizes. From the day of their realization, they come to an understanding that they have to be “devils” in order to save humanity in an attempt of self-sacrifice. They know that nothing would be able to redeem these sins, yet they still push forward to destroy anything and anyone that gets in their way. This is because they know that there is no alternative that guarantees their safety except complete annihilation of everything else. They eventually trade in their humanity at the cost of lives of children, innocents, and everyone who might get in the way. However, one key difference is that Norman (TPN) gets a chance at redemption, while Eren (AOT) does not. This will be further explored in Being Bound by destiny vs. Defying destiny.

After witnessing the death of his mother, Eren vows to exterminate every last titan in order to guarantee the safety of humanity. He trains hard in order to become an efficient member of the Survey Corps and promises to use his Titan power to defend everyone. Eren is hopeful, arrogant, and stubborn, and this causes him to dive in head first when anyone is in danger. He literally sacrifices himself and is eaten by a titan to save Armin, and he sacrifices himself time and time again. However, when the Survey Corps reach the ocean, Eren realizes that the real enemies are those across the other side of the ocean. The humans who wish for the demise of Paradis Island and its residents. Their enemies are not titans, but other humans. From that day on, Eren distanced himself from everyone and made his own plans. He had gone to extreme lengths to detach himself from his comrades so that they would have no power to stop him and the wrong-doings will be all his. This eventually resulted in Eren's attacks on Marley because he found out that the whole world was going to launch an attack on Paradis to exterminate the “devils” of society. In the end, Eren successfully activates the rumbling and ended up killing 80% of the world population because he knew that discrimination towards Eldians would not end until the world starts anew. His friends were able to save the 20% because they stopped Eren by having Mikasa kill him. Brb, gonna cry AGAIN.

After learning the truth of the house from Ray, Norman decided that he had to aid Emma’s plan of saving all the kids in the house, even the defenseless young ones. To do so would require utmost planning, strategy, and tactics that would put the three at risk. However, Norman decided that the benefits would outweigh the risk and proceeded with Emma’s plan. Unfortunately, Mama stops them in their tracks and decides to ship Norman early in order to stop him from ruining her plans. Emma and Ray do everything they can to save Norman and include him in their plan, and Norman pretends to agree. Unbeknownst to the two, Norman had already planned to betray them because he was afraid that the attempt to save him would only put everyone else at risk. This leads to Norman sacrificing himself and letting him get “shipped out” by Mama. However, instead of being turned into food, he is taken in as an experiment of Project Lamba, where he endured great suffering as a test subject. It was during his time here that he witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the demons, and decided that there was no other way but to exterminate them. He saw the realities of the mass produced farms where children don’t even gain autonomy and consciousness, he met fellow Lamba experiments who would have certain illnesses for life, and he endured the pain firsthand. After a series of events, he breaks out of Lamba and finds Emma and the other children. By this time, Emma had already realized that not all demons were bad and that it was simply a matter of survival for some of them. Norman, however, did not buy into this kind of thinking. When he told his plans of genocide, Emma firmly rejected this and asked for a few days to find an alternative before Norman could continue with the plan. While Norman agreed, he betrayed her and carried out with the plan earlier than expected and caused the degeneration of thousands of demon villagers. In his heart, Norman did not want to do this, but believed that there was no other way. He did not want to bring others in the plan because he wanted to keep the blame to himself as part of his self-sacrifice. Unlike Eren, Norman is redeemed when he reunites with the others and tries to forge a new plan.

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punkscowardschampions · 3 years

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James & Ava

James: Good morning

James: how are you, darling?

Ava: Sleepy 🥱

Ava: but all the better starting my day with you, of course

Ava: how about you? 😊

James: hopeful that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, because likewise

James: & my cautious optimism doesn’t extend to the viewing I’m currently heading to

Ava: Oh, how have they oversold this one, I wonder

Ava: the adverts are nothing short of epic fiction

Ava: there should be awards for how they can spin any - into like +++

Ava: Where are you headed?

James: it would be inspirational if I were solely doing research for the novel but alas I need a suitable study first

James: [somewhere that’s one of the places we discounted]

Ava: I can believe estate agents are all unfulfilled creatives, definitely

Ava: I’ll 🤞 all my fingers and toes that it’s the one

Ava: though I could tell you more pubs and clubs in that area than nurseries…

James: absolutely up there with the teaching profession in terms of both dashed dreams setting them on that path & a litany of thankless tasks once they get there

James: thank you though

James: I’ll let you know if it constitutes enough of a disaster to warrant theoretically drowning my sorrows, after all, there isn’t a huge difference between some of the clubs Teddy frequents & soft play so I’ve no doubt my aide for today would be thrilled to hear every suggestion

Ava: You cannot make me feel bad for teachers today

Ava: not when Mr Hawthorne has beat you to it with the against argument in the form of his 🥱 inducing lectures

Ava: 😅 I don’t think foam parties are safe for anyone, 1-year-olds especially so though

James: there’s an argument to be made that I possess the ability to do so, however, if I’m going to use my powers of persuasion for anything 😈 I would argue it is indeed wasted on Mr Hawthorne

James: oh well in that case, the hunt for my sister’s baby shower venue also continues

Ava: If you used your powers of persuasions on Mr Hawthorne, I might be a tiny bit jealous

Ava: not to mention almost as confused as he would undoubtedly be

Ava: Joy of joys

Ava: it would be typical for that to be added to your to-do list as well, but at least a place for grown women to eat chocolate bars out of nappies isn’t as much like gold dust as a decent place in central

James: I’m jealous that he’s spending time with you right now, despite your attention being less than rapt & therefore promise to do nothing that benefits him in any way whatsoever

James: including, but not limited to, refusing to assist you in the homework he intends to set by being as distracting as I can later as well as now

James: you’re not wrong, but she is her belief that to this day I remain blacklisted by an extremely high percentage of clubs, thus sparing me being delegated the role even in these hypothetical planning stages

Ava: That would be a wild rumour, even for this place

Ava: and what can I say? You’re more worthy of my time and attention

Ava: as you’ve just proved 😍

Ava: Definite blessing in disguise

Ava: Will it be a women-only event?

James: I’d be lying if I didn’t say I miss you & am always willing to prove how much at every given opportunity

James: god, I hope so, even a foam party isn’t enough of an incentive to get me there if I am expected

Ava: I miss you too

Ava: I can come see you tonight though, if you’re free

Ava: sadly, I don’t think I can make a soft-play date so that’ll have to be just you two

Ava: and you’re lucky, I’ve been to so many baby showers it’s not even funny

James: I’m supposed to work late to make up the time I’ve taken off this morning but I can do that when you’re busy

James: that’s a shame, I’ll have to throw myself in the ball pit

James: time will tell if you have an invite to Diana’s, what’s incredibly lucky is that she won’t expect you to actually attend regardless of how you RSVP

Ava: Only if you’re sure

Ava: my plans can always be more fluid than yours

Ava: Ugh 😞 I’d LOVE to push you into a ball pit right now, life is unfair

Ava: I don’t think she was impressed with my party-planning skills enough to put in that call

James: I am very sure that I want to spend tonight with you instead of at the office

James: & I’m also suddenly determined to create our very own ball pit in the new place

James: [pictures like which room do you think we should fill with plastic balls lol but let’s say it’s all really small]

James: having to forgo a traditional master bedroom isn’t at all unfair, I’ll obviously sleep like a baby among the balls

Ava: 🥰

Ava: An absolute must

Ava: why brag of a ‘cosy’ third bedroom when you can boast a gigantic ball pit

Ava: I bet the girls would be more than willing for you to do that too

Ava: Party house has a whole new meaning 🥳

James: indeed

Ava: I hope there’s not too many people there this time though, really

James: I think there are more people here than at the last viewing we went to, impossible as that sounds

Ava: 😫 How, where do all these people spring from?!

Ava: At least you’re far more eligible than most young professionals

Ava: If I was looking for a model renter

James: what a pity you aren't, your rooftop garden has much greater appeal for this particular young professional, not least because I've seen its existence with my own eyes

Ava: If my landlords weren’t so involved…

Ava: This place is far too big for us now

James: hopefully they won't drag you along on yet more insufferable viewings if, or when, they decide to downsize since you're an undeniable pro now, because for that, there would only so many apologies I can offer you

Ava: I’m sure mum’s already getting the planning permission sorted for if and when

Ava: Sadly their portfolio doesn’t extend to a reasonable price range, I did ask

Ava: but if it isn’t something that would get her in Architect Digest, or whatever, she’s not interested so

Ava: As you said, it would be fun in a way, if all this looking didn’t mean you were still without your perfect family home

Ava: It takes people watching to a new level, and seeing the landlord’s ‘decor’ choices is also as revealing

James: it's okay, being indebted to my own parents is quite enough

James: it's becoming clear if my father visualizes me living here it's because he's done a drastic rewrite of the type of young professional I am

James: I could see you here, for instance, in a draft where I don't exist as your love interest, but in terms of a family home, perfect of otherwise, where we'd put Frank & the children is anyone's guess

James: perhaps some of these people are imagining wild architecture projects the likes of which your mother would have to act undaunted by, who's to say

Ava: I don’t love that rewrite

Ava: Frank is particularly demanding with how much space he needs to recline, relax, snooze and sleep…

Ava: You’ll find somewhere soon, I know it

Ava: If nothing else, this dull lesson is giving me all the time to refresh and refresh and repeat every listing I can find

James: cautious optimism as ever for our 2nd attempt

James: [deets because I'm gonna say that this is one he ends up loving that falls through somehow at some stage because how real and frustrating and then she can be the one who finds their forever home and they can look at it together]

Ava: Okay, I can picture that one

Ava: light and airy isn’t actually a lie this time, what a concept

Ava: 😍

Ava: All the rooms are a good size so you wouldn’t feel as if either girl was getting the short straw, and you won’t have to settle for sleeping amongst the balls either

James: I do have a genuinely good feeling about it, terrifying as that is to admit in our present surroundings where it feels as though someone will sense it & immediately swoop in, but yes

Ava: I know

Ava: It’s one of those things

Ava: You have to be cautious, because so many roadblocks are between you and the end goal

Ava: but similarly, how can you be, when it’s such a big life thing

Ava: You can be as honest and optimistic as you like with me, it doesn’t need to go any further, shark-like buyers and the girls alike

James: we aren’t anywhere close to the stressful moving in stage & I’m already acutely aware that I wouldn’t have survived up until now without your help, so I will, as long as you know the continued support is appreciated beyond words or any other measure

Ava: Stressful, but fun

Ava: you get to pick what colour your new room is 😌

Ava: It’ll be reward enough, to see you get the fresh start you deserve

James: [whatever her fave colour is] of course

James: then you won’t mind seeing me covered from head to toe in it, potentially indefinitely, when we discover I can’t fit in the tub at the new place either

Ava: Oh, I don’t think I would mind that no matter the colour

Ava: but I also would not mind you having an amazing shower so we could take care of that

James: if there isn’t I won’t mind adding it to my renovations to-do list

Ava: As long as I’m on that list too I’m happy

James: the top of any list I write is where I’m happy to put you

Ava: If you put in a bid, you should do it at/even over asking price, so they’ll take attention of you and then you can make a list of repairs/quality checks etc you want done before you agree to move in, then if they do them, they’re done for you, but more likely, they’ll not want to, and you can say take that cost off my offer then

Ava: one of the 💡 tips I’ve picked up and you’d undoubtedly thought of yourself but there we go

James: here’s where I could nod & keep up the pretense to avoid giving away what a total novice I am, but there’s very little point given than you know I’ve never done this, & a list of countless other things as long as my arm, for myself before

James: instead I’ll just take your advice & thank you accordingly

Ava: There’s so much we don’t get prepared for

Ava: even under normal circumstances

Ava: It isn’t as if I was told that at school, or I get told anything vaguely useful on the day-to-day by Hawthorne or any of the others worse or marginally better than him

Ava: You shouldn’t feel like you’re alone in feeling unprepared, is what I’m failing to say

Ava: Lots of people feel it, that’s why I could never just stay here, in the bubble of SW forever

James: don’t worry, you aren’t failing at anything where this conversation is concerned & whilst it is somewhat overwhelming at times, I don’t feel alone because I’ve got you to talk it through with

James: what that school taught me, all that living here has taught me, was how to avoid facing up to situations by lying & name dropping, which probably would assist me in climbing the property ladder but I’d rather be honest, if the bubble bursts as a result, I’m prepared for that from now on

Ava: I’m proud of you

Ava: and the girls will be too

Ava: It can be fun, and there are some good people here, just as there are everywhere

Ava: but outside of the postcode, the currency of who you know and where you went to school, it’s just not real, irrelevant

Ava: I don’t want to rely on my parents’ hard work, let alone someone else’s father knowing the crest on my blazer, you know

James: yes, I know exactly what having to rely on my father feels like, it isn’t fun or something to be proud of & it definitely isn’t a precedent I’d like to keep setting for my daughters

James: the stark reality & contrast of this fresh start needs to happen soon, while I still have Jay here to teach

Ava: She’s not going anywhere

James: she’s going to have to meet him eventually even if that’s under the guise of him being one of my old friends or your brother

Ava: And I understand that that’s fair

Ava: to him, I don’t know how to feel about it in regards to Jay, and it’s not even my job to so I know how hard this must be for you

Ava: but that doesn’t mean he should get to ‘keep’ her, for God’s sake, she has had no idea who he is until now, you’re her dad

James: I have to hope that he’ll understand that too, he’s not the villain here, as much as it would make my life easier to paint him as such

Ava: I hope so too

James: it’ll be okay, for her, I don’t know if I can make the same promise for us but I want to be able to

Ava: Don’t put yourself down like that

Ava: It wouldn’t be okay if she lost you

James: she isn’t going to lose me whatever Buster decides to do next, things may have to change but never that drastically, I’ll always be in her life

Ava: Providing he plays that nicely

Ava: I’m just scared he’ll do something that drastic, and stupid

James: if he doesn’t I won’t, I’m not afraid to fight fire with fire should that be the only option he leaves me with

Ava: Good

Ava: I wish I could promise it won’t be

Ava: but I don’t know what he will be prepared to do, so you should be prepared for any and all eventualities too

James: I am, my marriage made sure I was equipped to anticipate the unexpected & not to expect rational responses

Ava: Yeah, of course

Ava: Still no word from Chloe?

James: no & no trace of a belated birthday card

Ava: Typical

Ava: Good thing Mattie got spoiled by you and had a great party already

James: Jay is devastated she has to wait so long for you to throw one for her though, maybe we can find a way to cater the housewarming party to her

Ava: Awh, bless her

Ava: If there’s one thing Chelsea HAS taught me, is that you only need a vague notion of an idea to have a party and celebrate

Ava: Does she like fireworks?

James: she LOVES fireworks, if you weren’t in Dublin she’d have insisted you come with us to [wherever we’re gonna go see some on the night]

Ava: I am pretty gutted I can’t

Ava: but I’ll have to get some sparklers, probably not Catherine Wheels or Roman Candles, and do a belated bonfire themed do for her

Ava: smores are a good idea any night

James: I wonder if she’ll expect us to dye her hair red, orange or yellow this time

Ava: 😬 accidentally set a precedent

Ava: thank god for washouts

James: I’ll do what I can to have her convinced that face paint is a much better idea by the time you get back but she’s no Mr Hawthorne so

Ava: I admire a girl who requires more than a persuasive essay

Ava: you’ll have a great time

Ava: 🤞 the endless family drama doesn’t get in the way of me having one too

James: no amount of Catherine Wheels or Roman Candles could prevent me from being on the end of the phone whether you aren’t having a great time or simply want to tell me how much fun it is

Ava: You’re the best ❤️

Ava: It should be fine

Ava: If anything, hopefully someone else is bringing more drama than my parents or siblings could accuse me of, then it’ll really give them a bit of perspective 🤫

James: if your family resembles the dynamic of mine even slightly I won’t have to keep anything crossed in order to make that happen for you, but of course I will nevertheless, just in case

Ava: How soon is too soon to clue you in on my mad family dynamic 🤔😅

Ava: Maybe when you’re in your new home, so you have a door to politely shut in my face

James: having never kept an air of mystery there I can understand why you’d want to, but I would never christen my new front door like that

Ava: It was like an unspoken rule, when Buster was here too

Ava: I don’t really care that much, and anyway, he broke it big time

Ava: Every family has struggles and secrets, or are long overdue their share if not

James: I couldn’t agree more, my mother acts as though nobody else has skeletons hung up next to their hideously expensive coats & we must stay silent come what may, but she’s the last person to feign shock when any of said secrets inevitably come out

Ava: It’s such a waste of time and energy

Ava: not to mention resolves precisely (0) of said troubles, if and when they can be

Ava: I’m so glad you don’t want to keep up pretenses together

Ava: wouldn’t make for a very interesting story

James: exactly, if I adhered to her code of silence I wouldn’t have gone to rehab or spent any time & energy on recovery, god knows what trouble I’d be in right now in that instance, but we certainly wouldn’t have this plotline to delight in

Ava: Being dubious about the potential results, maybe

Ava: but the idea your own mum would rather you suffer in silence, literally, is beyond me

James: it’s an attitude worthy of an outdated classic novel, for sure, that we can all take ourselves in hand & address our flaws with a firm word or two but she isn’t alone in her 'you don't need outside help, you just need to learn and then follow through with setting your own limits' mentality

James: in my parents' defence I was still young, despite the baby I wasn't looking after properly or the wedding I don't remember very much of at all, & I know they'd argue, if pressed, that was the main reason for their anti-rehab stance

James: therefore, I'd like to believe, however naively perhaps, on this occasion it isn't entirely about saving face with yet more pretense but rather a glimpse at some character development for both of them, if only so the novel isn't doomed by one dimensional subplots, naturally

Ava: I can see that too, again, a lot of people’s problems go unaddressed or at least are allowed to get worse because the person is ‘too young’ for it to either be a problem, or it is something they will ‘bounce back’ from once they ‘calm down’ and mature

Ava: It doesn’t make your parents the devil, I wouldn’t suggest as much, nor the first people to fall into that trap

Ava: There are definitely instances of the exact same mindset I can point to within my own family

Ava: We’d all like to see the best in people, and sometimes, that desire lets us down

James: regardless this viewing has yet to let me down unlike the previous

James: I wish you were here

Ava: With any luck, I’ll be able to come see it with you next time

Ava: The pictures look great, trying to keep the optimism at the cautious level still but 🤞🤞😌

James: need I remind you I like your optimism as unabashed as your excitement

Ava: You don’t need to

Ava: but I wouldn’t be opposed

James: [tell her about whatever cute and romantic plans you've sorted for you two tonight so she'll be happy and excited]

Ava: How have you managed to sort that whilst at these viewings and also with Mattie 😍

James: it appears I’m guilty of similarly high levels of enthusiasm & so the greater crime would be letting it go to waste

Ava: AND being an excellent multi-tasker AND AND an even greater romantic

James: Mattie can & will take full credit for the former but the romanticism is a newly acquired skill that I’m still trying to find my feet with, & entirely down to you

Ava: I should feel bad for keeping it all for myself

James: I disagree but I’ll happily rush through the book’s publication if sharing will make you feel better

Ava: Should doesn’t mean would or could

Ava: because I don’t

Ava: It’s nice not being secret, but I’m still happy keeping you to myself for a while longer

James: oh good, because I’d rather continue to multitask like this than on a novel deadline

Ava: Being anything but a reprieve from all the other drains on your time is not very romantic heroine of me, so never

Ava: what would the readers think

James: you’ve got me there, by evoking how fickle our readers are more than likely to prove themselves to be, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about

Ava: You either think the protagonist is ‘relatable’ or you hate her because you deserve the love interest far more than her

James: nobody deserves me more than you, they’ll have no choice but to appreciate you

Ava: James

James: Ava

Ava: I can’t wait to see you later

James: can I pick you up from school or do you need to go home first?

Ava: I don’t need to go home 😊

James: I’ll see you there then, unfortunately, I have work to get back to & I’ve kept you from yours for longer than I responsibly should have, lest you end up at Kings after all

Ava: 🙄 I’m sure my career’s officer would tell me they’re higher in the rankings or something else that isn’t going to change my mind more than your experience and my own, however brief

Ava: If I were rating them on chance, perfect meetings, however

Ava: A++

Ava: I’ll see you later then, try not to get TOO exhausted by soft play 😏❤️

James: I’ll be certain to tell them now that’s not a secret, it wouldn’t surprise me if they used us a ringing endorsement for some kind of meet-cute society to take place weekly in The Vault

James: the allure of soft play meanwhile needs no advertising, with or without any single mothers trying to engineer romantic entanglements of their own

Ava: I’ll square that with my conscience and you run that gauntlet, love

James: I’ll do my best

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buttsonthebeach · 4 years

Text

A Question of Understanding

@spectrestatus-recognised asked me to write for Dorian and Leas Lavellan, and I really enjoyed getting to dig in and think about their relationship and its nuances. Thank you for giving me something so interesting to tackle, and for trusting me with your characters!

Pairing: Leas Lavellan x Dorian

Rating: Teen for references to sex

********************

Dorian knew the conversation had to happen after the third time Leas felt the need to highlight their relationship in front of the assembled nobles of Skyhold.

“Everyone in this room knows the stories of Garahel, hero of the Fourth Blight. We do not deny his heroism. Is it such a leap in logic, then, to recognize that there are elves alive today who are heroes, or could be? We are not so different that we cannot coexist. I would think Dorian Pavus and I are a perfect example of that.”

Dorian forced a small smile to his lips, a hint of brightness to his expression, as the nobles turned to look at him where he stood by the door to the rotunda. He’d smiled charmingly at people he despised while dying inside. Plenty of times. This part was nothing new.

The new part was that the inward shrinking - the feeling of dying - came from the fact that a man had just announced he loved him in front of a crowded room of their peers, and not from something his father had said or done.

Dorian had always thought that a moment like that would make him feel happy - thrilled, even - not sick. He’d pushed the feeling away the first two times this happened, assuming it was just him growing used to the idea of a relationship being public, of being the paramour of the most famous man in Thedas after years of sneaking out of bedrooms and brothels in the wan light of dawn. But third time’s the charm, or so they say, and now he knew it was time to probe the feeling down to its root, and then to discuss it with Leas.

(Dorian really did wonder how he’d ended up in a situation where he was expected to be the one unearthing buried feelings and forcing others to discuss theirs. Miracles really were possible.)

So he held back at his place by the door to the rotunda, maintaining his smile for any nobles who walked past him and stared just a little too long. Leas had stepped down from his dais and was mingling amongst them, too, but he had not gotten far in the crowd yet, giving Dorian more time to think, like a man probing a bruise, looking for the part that hurt the worst. The most obvious pain was that Leas had already done this twice before in explicitly political situations, like this one was today. The first time, it had been for a group of Chantry Mothers Leas had invited to Skyhold in order to entreat them to go into the alienages of Ferelden and provide aid directly to the elves there.

“You see?” Leas had said, gesturing to Dorian where he stood at his side. “We are not so different that we cannot love one another. That we do not need the same things from the Maker and his Bride. And is it not true that the Hero of Ferelden himself was a city elf, who rose from the city that scorned and reviled him to save all of the Thedas? What city would not benefit by inviting all of its subjects to contribute equally, and by equipping them to do so?”

Of course, Leas had needed the Chantry Mothers to believe him on that score, because Leliana wanted to establish a network of spies within the alienages in Ferelden, and this was a way of getting them increased aid without straining the Inquisition’s coffers. And Leas was sidestepping the fact that Mother Giselle had not been entirely wrong about the impact Dorian’s closeness was having on Leas’s reputation. Dorian had heard Josephine muttering to herself about letters she wrote to Orlesian dignitaries, assuring them that the Tevene court did not have undue influence over the Inquisition, that Dorian Pavus was in fact estranged from his magister father and had done nothing to advance Tevene interests in his time with the Inquisition.

So there was the second pang he felt, Dorian decided as Leas moved to another group of nobles, this one a little closer to his position by the rotunda. Not only had this happened because of political needs in all three cases, Leas was also acting as his usual idealistic self each time. For every noble that he planted a seed in, turning them towards a kinder and more inclusive Thedas, he planted at least two other seeds of doubt about his ties to Tevinter. Word of their meeting with the aforementioned Halward Pavus had leaked, after all, or so Leliana had said. And that was a meeting Leas himself had encouraged, insisting it was better for Dorian to talk to his father.

“You only get one of those, you know. Fathers. I’d be heartbroken if I reached out to Adhlean wanting to apologize for something I’d done, only for him to turn me away.”

You can’t have it both ways, Amatus, Dorian thought to himself as the pieces begin to draw together, like yet another game of chess. You can’t say that people have nothing to fear because I have forsaken my ties to Tevinter, and then asking me to re-knot the string.

But that was Leas, and Dorian would be lying to himself if that thought didn’t fill him with a warm, floating feeling. His idealism, and his tenacious conviction to those ideals, were part of what made him so alluring to so many - Dorian included. The way his blue eyes lit up when he talked about the things he was passionate about - it could make Dorian’s heart skip a beat.

Too bad half the nobles of Thedas probably didn’t have a heart left to skip any beats.

Or did they?

Because Leas was still moving from group to group, smiling, laughing, patting people he barely knew on the arm, throwing in the odd wink if the timing seemed right, and Dorian could see them softening towards him, being drawn in against their will.

And wasn’t that how Leas acted with Dorian? Even when they were alone?

Was he, in fact, just another noble who needed charming and converting? Another statement to be made? Another piece on the chessboard?

And that, Dorian realized, was the final nail in the coffin.

He was truly beginning to believe that Leas did not do this because he was a man so in love that he had to shout it from the rooftops. He was doing it because Dorian was a means to an end.

Yet that very thought was antithetical to Leas himself - he would never condone using someone outright. Dorian felt sure of it. Did he not realize he was doing it?

They had to talk.

Except, of course, that Leas was still milling from place to place, and his confounded schedule (which should be outlawed as a form of extreme torture) meant that he would not be ‘free’ for several more hours. It was time for the cultural exchange now, and then for disciplining any soldiers who had failed to desire said cultural exchange, to eat dinner while on his feet, and then to retreat to study, and then to attend to any tasks that he deemed miscellaneous, and then and only then - one hour before midnight - would he go to sleep.

Where in that madness was there time for Dorian?

Maybe he could steal a half hour of time from studying for his lover, though if he did, they would like as not have sex - not ordinarly a problem, but -

Come to think of it, most of the time it was what they did when they found time to themselves.

Dorian was finding it harder to breathe now. He wasn’t going to talk to Leas about all of this in public, anyway. He turned and slipped through the door into the rotunda, and headed back upstairs to his library. He might as well read more about Corypheus’s descendents, if he couldn’t be of any other use to anyone. Leas had gotten his use out of him that day anyway.

Don’t think of it that way. You know him better than that. Things simply need to be clarified.

“Pavus.”

Except, of course, Iselen was there, lifting up books, raising his eyebrows at them, and then returning them to the shelf as if they smelled vaguely offensive. He was the spitting image of Leas, his twin, but their demeanors were so different that Dorian had never once confused them. Leas radiated hope and energy. Iselen radiated disdain.

“Iselen,” Dorian returned evenly. “Could I help you find something?”

“I doubt it,” Iselen said. “Adhlean wished to choose something new to read. I insisted that he do so himself instead of hiding in his quarters. He must learn that there is nothing to fear here amongst the shemlen.”

Coming from Leas, the words would have had hope in them. Kindness. Coming from Iselen, they only had more distate. Leas would want his son to feel no fear because he wanted harmony amongst the peoples of Thedas. Iselen wanted his nephew to feel no fear because he considered it the birthright of all the elven people to overcome the others.

Dorian schooled himself not to give Iselen a snappish reply. Whatever his feelings about Iselen’s politics, he was Leas’s twin brother. He would never allow their relationship to form a wedge within the family.

“I am glad you are helping him overcome his fear,” Dorian said instead, coolly. He glanced around the bookshelf and saw Adhlean a few feet away. A skinny, skittish beanpole of a boy, all of ten years old. Adhlean glanced up, saw Dorian, and shrank back behind the bookcase, hiding himself. Dorian’s heart sank.

“Clearly not,” Iselen said dryly, having stepped out further to watch the exchange. He sighed. “I shall go correct him.”

“Certainly,” Dorian muttered once Iselen was out of earshot. “Correct him by giving him more tomes about the Fall of Arlathan to read. Especially the ones with all the drawings of the terrible magisters eating small elven children. That will correct his fear.”

Maybe Dorian really was making a fool of himself. He was a nobleman from a country that had systematically destroyed theirs. Modern humans had hardly been much kinder. But would Leas of all people really want his son to be raised on such fear? Shouldn’t his choice of Dorian as a partner be enough to show Adhlean that he had nothing to fear?

Except that thought brought his mind circling back to the idea that he was chosen for that reason and that reason alone. A figurehead, trapped in a relationship because of the appearance it created. The exact reason he’d fled Tevinter in the first place.

Dorian retreated from the library to his quarters, wishing he could retreat entirely, back into a time and place where these thoughts had not crystallized, hanging above him like so many glittering knives.

The knock on Dorian’s door startled him out of the family tree he was drawing, making sparks fly from his fingertips. He’d heard eight bells tolls recently, and hardly anyone would come to see him at this time of night - except Leas. Sure enough, that was the person on the other side of the door, smiling, those bright blue eyes that had given him his nickname shining forth from his pale skin.

“Amatus,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What do you mean, to what do you owe the pleasure?” Leas asked, stepping in closer, putting his hand on Dorian’s chest.

“I had not expected to see you this evening.”

Leas’s brows drew closer together, even as Dorian stepped aside to allow him in.

“I assumed that surprises were a welcome thing. At least between us.”

The words were like a pin, and Dorian felt some of the negative feelings that had been building within him leak out through the small hole it left.

“Of course it is. I am happy you have time for me today.”

He brushed a kiss across Leas’s lips, even as he knew they were the wrong words, still too full of the bile that had soured his dinner. To his surprise, Leas leaned into the kiss, deepened it just a little. Dorian felt a rush of warmth through his body, could not help but put his hands on Leas’s back and hold him just that one inch closer, could not help but relax into the joy of such tenderness.

But the knives still hung above him. Still glittered.

“I know it isn’t very romantic to have to schedule time with your lover,” Leas said when they parted, though he remained close to Dorian. “Has it been bothering you?”

Here was his chance -

“Yes,” Dorian said, but the words that were meant to follow after stuck in his throat. When had he become this hesitant, this afraid?

Leas planted three plush kisses on Dorian’s lips.

“Well, I’m here now,” he murmured.

There it was - warmth and invitation and companionship and love and Dorian wanted to just sink into it, pretend everything was fine. Love was all pretend anyway, as far as he’d been able to see. Did it matter if Leas was the one who’d begun to make him question otherwise?

It did.

“Yes, you are here now,” Dorian said quietly, pulling back, taking both of Leas’s hands in his own. “And, amatus, I wanted to discuss this afternoon. The statements you made in front of the gathered nobles.”

Leas frowned. “About us? Are you ashamed?”

“Of course not!” Dorian retorted. “But I do wonder if you have quite considered -”

Leas withdrew his hands from Dorian’s.

“I assure you, I have considered it. Have you eaten? Let’s share a meal.”

Leas did not seem upset. He was smiling. Where had Dorian seen that odd, hollow smile before? When he had found Leas wracked with sadness because of something Iselen had said. How Leas was a flat-ear for choosing a human to be his lover. A traitor to their kind. That time, Leas had allowed Dorian to shelter him through the storm, to reassure him that he was not a traitor just because of who he’d fallen in love with, that Iselen was not right in this. It was a good change, to be the one offering comfort, after Leas helped Dorian through the encounter with his father, through losing Felix.

But then there had been the other times that Leas had not let him in. Like after Adamant, after the excruciating pain he was in as a somniari trapped in the Fade - I’m fine, arasha. I learned a lot from my time there. Nothing to worry about. Or all the times Leas seemed troubled by things from his past - his terrible memories of the Blight in Ferelden, the difficulties being a new, untrained somniari had caused him - and clammed up, refusing to allow Dorian to help him move through them.

Dorian was going to have to push.

“Leas,” he began again. “I still want to speak about earlier. I do not think you have considered the full implications of using our relationship so blatantly. It may look well and good from the stage, but from where I was standing -”

“Using?” Leas asked incredulously, as if he wasn’t even sure what the word could mean. “How on earth could I be using our relationship?”

“To advance your agenda, however admirable it may be.”

“I am simply stating what I believe. What everyone should believe.”

“And you know that I agree with it,” Dorian said, closing the growing gap between them, reaching for his hands again. “But to keep bringing it up at every chance you get, and in such a public forum - Mother Giselle and her kind are not completely wrong. Sometimes all that people will hear is the Inquisitor and his magister lover, and not the rest of what you wish to say. You should think about that angle, too.”

“I have thought about it,” Leas countered immediately, raising his chin, confident as the day was long. “I spend a lot of time thinking about and debating many things. Or did you not mean to allude to that when you alluded to my very busy schedule?”

“If you have thought about it, then why do you persist in doing it?” Dorian asked. “Do the benefits truly outweigh the costs? You seem to enjoy claiming reason is on your side and then ignoring the reason of others when they point out that it might not be. You were dogged in your determination to prove to me that I was wrong about slavery. You insisted I listen to reason. Why are you never willing to listen to the reason of others?”

“Because this is not the kind of thing I can compromise on. I am standing up for the kind of Thedas I want Adhlean to grow up in,” Leas said, a little hotter now, every bit as confident as before.

“So then we return to my main point - am I merely a statement to you?”

The words came out faster and more angry than Dorian necessarily intended. What had begun as a pinprick in his unease was a floodgate now. Knives falling from their precarious perches. Leas looked confused, once again as if he could truly have no idea what Dorian meant, and for the first time his naivete was not charming, but infuriating.

“Is that it, then? You knew the kind of Thedas you wanted, and so you chose the man who would look the best on your arm while you went about achieving it? Someone who would turn all the heads and set all the tongues wagging, so you could then tell them they were wrong for staring and for talking? Someone who was also happy to wait around for gaps in your schedule so you could sleep with them, and then leave? Was there no part of you that wanted to take me at my word and keep things between us simply about sex?”

Leas’s face did not change. Dorian felt a sort of wild desperation building within himself. A desperation to get him to say something, anything, that would prove this was all a misunderstanding.

“Or was it the other way around? Was it simply that I was the only person who wanted to warm your bed, and you realized belatedly that you could also use me to your political advantage?”

“No!” The word burst out of Leas’s lips, a bird flushed from cover. “No - stop. This is not at all how I envisioned this evening going.”

“You envisioned us having sex,” Dorian said flatly.

“Yes? And? Is my performance not satisfactory? I’ve never had complaints before.”

“No, my only complaint is that all this feels like lately is a performance. Do I mean anything to you at all?”

“You can’t mean that. This has all gotten out of hand for no reason.” Leas’s firm tone only made Dorian more angry. As if he was Adhlean - a child in need of discipline.

“What I am saying is not baseless. I have seen these patterns, Leas. I have seen them and I have tried to deny them and after tonight I cannot any longer.” Dorian ran a hand through his hair, an action he normally tried to resist after the amount of time it took to groom it every morning. “When I was in Tevinter, I knew the rules. I knew that whatever I had with any man, at the end of the day it could not go anywhere. I came here, and I met you, and I let myself start to believe that it could be otherwise. But maybe things are the same no matter what part of Thedas you are in. If I am right, then spare me any further embarrassment and tell me now that I mean nothing to you.”

“Of course you mean something to me. You mean everything to me,” Leas said, horrified now, and Dorian took a strange pleasure in that horror. He’d broken through the willful naivete, the stubborn refusal to discuss any weakness, any vulnerability. “I - I’m not good at this, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what you needed me to acknowledge? You know what it’s been like - my parents weren’t exactly the model relationship. I was a mess when I returned to my clan, and no one wanted to tolerate that mess. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how relationships work. Maybe that means I should never have started this one, but I wanted something that was just mine. Something I could just - be foolish over. I guess I’ve been more foolish than I thought. Okay? Is that all you needed from me?”

Leas turned away, facing the door now, and Dorian was afraid he would go. His anger and fear were ebbing now. Leas would not lie to him, not when confronted so directly. So he did care. There was hope that this was real. Dorian put his hand on Leas’s shoulder.

“I am as surprised as anyone that I am expected to be the one of us who is good at navigating feelings and discussing them. I would not say that I am particularly good at it either. We - neither of us has lived a life that would give us the chance to be good at this whole relationship business, have we? ”

Leas turned now, following the gentle pressure of Dorian’s hand, and then Dorian moved the hand to his cheek.

“You a First and then a father before you were eighteen. Me, the scion of a family where feelings went out of fashion before Andraste burned in her pyre. I said it before - I never expected to have a relationship that was not a performance, or a secret. But I’ve had a glimpse of that with you now, and I don’t want to let it go. I want to know it really is real. Is that so selfish of me?”

He added a playful lilt to the last words, and it won him a small smile from Leas.

“Yes. Terribly, incredibly selfish. And rude.”

Dorian sighed dramatically, and then leaned his forehead against Leas’s.

“I do not enjoy playing the jealous or insecure lover, amatus. But I must admit again - it concerns me that you seem to enjoy flaunting our relationship for political gain. It concerns me that whenever we do have a moment together, it’s only about sex. It concerns me that our relationship might drive a wedge between you and your family.”

Leas rubbed his forehead against Dorian’s - a tiny gesture, but one that warmed him all the way to his toes.

“I was attracted to you because you were different and dangerous,” he admitted softly. “There was an allure there. But it wasn’t because I wanted to make a political statement. That was just - coincidence. The thing that drew me to you over and over again was the way you understood me, understood what it is like to be an outcast, understood what it was like to want to change things. You understood things about me that not even my brother or my clanmates understood. That first time I decided to draw attention to it was an impulsive decision. But I do care for you, Dorian. No matter what’s going on around us, or what other people think - I do care about you. If I need to change things to make this work, I will. I want to do that. I love you - or, shall I say, te amo. Did I get that right?”

Dorian closed his eyes and felt the tension between his shoulders ebb. He let the words run through his mind over and over and over again. He was seen and loved, and he loved in return. And to hear the words in his native tongue, to know that Leas had found time in the midst of the chaos of his life to learn Tevene, just for him.

“As I love you,” he said softly in reply.

“Shall I say that more often, arasha?” Leas asked. “Rearrange my schedule for more quiet moments and less sex?”

“Yes, and I think your entire schedule needs to be thrown out the window. I’m going to have words with Josephine about it, in fact.”

Leas laughed, the sound Dorian so loved, the sound that had carried across the snowswept hills of Haven, and now across Skyhold’s courtyards, tugging on the strings of his heart every time.

“I don’t need you to baby me. The schedule is fine. I can handle it. I’ll have you know that I can function perfectly well on one meal a day, anyway.”

“You cannot.”

“I can. I did survive eight weeks alone fleeing darkspawn at the tender age of fourteen, after all. And has my complexion suffered even a little just because I’ve cut back on sleep?”

There was a slight sway to their movements now as they stood there in Dorian’s small room, their arms laced around each other now.

“Do not ask me to call you unattractive. I won’t do it,” Dorian said. “But you could be even more magnificent if you took my advice.”

“The world couldn’t handle me if I was any more magnificent.”

Dorian kissed Leas then, harder and more passionate than before, because he was right, and because Dorian loved him, and because Leas loved him back, and many things in their life were uncertain - there was a war raging outside this castle, after all, and a barely-contained magic seething in Leas’s left palm - but this one wasn’t any longer. Here, together, they had found each other - fought their way past their differences - and found a safe place to land.

“The nickname I have for you,” Leas said when they parted. “Arasha. Do you know what it means?”

“I cannot say that I do.”

“It means my joy. And you are my joy, Dorian. I hope I can do a better job of showing you that.”

Dorian kissed him again, basked in the knowledge that he had been wrong. He wasn’t a port in a storm for Leas. They were making their own world, slowly but surely, and they were doing it together, slowly but surely, brick by brick, and stone by stone. A world where they could be safe together, whatever had happened before.

#beach writes #beach does commissions #spectrestatus-recognised #leas lavellan #dorian pavus #leas x dorian #pavellan #dragon age fanfic

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

A Troubled Man

My Writing Fandom: Harry Potter Characters: Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Molly Weasley, Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, Goerge Weasley, Ron Weasley, Buckbeak, Albus Dumbledore Pairings: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Notes: Canon Compliant, Character Death, References to Depression Summary: “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” (Ginny Weasley, “Fight and Flight”, Order of the Phoenix pg 761) A look at the brief but meaningful relationship between the last Black and the youngest Weasley. *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in my bio*

The only upside to what had happened in Little Whinging that night was that their mother was far too upset to remember to charm the kitchen door, Ginny reflected as she listened through the newly created Extendable Ears her brothers were trying out, the whole lot of them crammed onto the third floor landing.

It was amazing how clear their mum’s voice was coming through. “How did the Dementors even find him?”

“Harry’s residence is a matter of public record, Molly,” explained Albus Dumbledore with exceeding patience. She couldn’t imagine how he had the time to field the Orders’ questions and run interference at the Ministry on Harry’s behalf.

“Yes, but you said he’s meant to be safe there, Headmaster,” her mum persisted. Only extreme worry would cause her to argue with Professor Dumbledore like this.

“The blood wards protecting Harry only extend to the property limits of his relatives’ house. This is why the Order guard has been necessary. The preliminary report from the Ministry says that Harry and his cousin were attacked off the property, and Arabella’s account supports this. So long as he remains inside—”

“So he’s under house arrest, then?” Asked a voice Ginny was beginning to grow rather familiar with. Sirius Black, wrongfully accused escaped convict and their host of sorts in this gloomy house that used to be his family’s. Ginny couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this.

There were a number of weary sighs.

“No, I just want to be clear. Can’t leave the property for his own safety and all that? In that case, Albus, could you tell me for what reason we sent Harry to stay with his relatives all the way out in Surrey — spending valuable time and resources this group doesn’t really have — when he could have been, oh, here maybe?”

“Ooh,” the twins breathed together, grinning.

“You’re meant to be writing that letter to him,” her mum snapped waspishly. She hadn’t taken much of a liking to Sirius ever since they’d gotten here. Ginny thought he’d have better luck with her if he cut his hair.

“Yes, and I’ve written it on the scrap of parchment I’ve been allowed. ‘Stay out of trouble’. Not much use when the trouble came to him in the first place.”

“Harry will be moved once it is safe to do so, Sirius,” said Dumbledore.

“Not an answer, though, is it?” Ron muttered at her elbow. Beside him, Hermione shook her head.

“He does have a point, Albus,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice. Kingsley had an ear piercing like Bill and was therefore cool even if they didn’t know much else about him besides his job. “Moving him from one location to another is a security risk that could have been avoided.”

“I have explained before why it is necessary for Harry to spend a portion of his summers at his relatives’.”

There was a scoff at the word “necessary”. Ginny could guess who it originated from.

Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later by her mum asking, “Perhaps instead of undermining the Headmaster you could criticize your friend, Mundungus.”

“I haven’t defended him,” said Sirius. He said nothing further, though it was hardly any surprise. Mundungus Fletcher had been the one to supply Sirius a new wand off the black market. And Dung was funny in an odd way.

The front door opened and shut, though none of them could see who it was from their vantage point. Shuffled footsteps stopped with a bang and a curse as something heavy fell over; Tonks with the troll’s foot umbrella stand again.

“Quick, the Ears!” Feed began reeling them back up as, loud and clear without magical aid, old Mrs. Black’s portrait started her screaming back up again.

“HALF-BLOOD TRAITORS WALKING MY HALLS, SULLYING THE NAME OF BLACK!”

The adults could be heard rushing up to quiet the commotion, and Ginny snuck down a flight to watch the end of Dumbledore’s purple cloak disappear through the front door.

She came back up. “Meeting’s over. Dumbledore just left.”

“But we still don’t know what will happen to Harry,” Hermione said in clear disappointment.

“They can’t wait that long to move him, can they?” Ron looked to be trying to keep his spirits up. “Anyway, Harry’ll be alright. He’s fought off way more than two Dementors before.”

The twins agreed with nods, but Ginny wasn’t so sure. It was one thing two years ago; they’d all been warned about the Dementors guarding the school. It was another thing to be attacked out of the blue just streets away from your own home. Harry had to be wondering who had done it and why, just like they all were.

They were all forced to scatter at the sound of more footsteps, this time coming up the stairs towards them. Ginny peeked out of her hiding place in the drawing room to watch Sirius trudge past. He continued up to the room he shared with Buckbeak the hippogriff, and she heard his door shut with a snap.

“He’s in a mood,” she heard Ron mutter from his room down the hall.

“He always is lately,” Hermione replied in clear disapproval.

Ginny wasn’t sure what to think of that. She wondered what Sirius had been like the times Ron and Hermione had met him before and how that differed to now. Every so often she thought they caught glimpses of it, like the first night they’d arrived or whenever a good number of Order members stuck around for dinner after a meeting. He was always more jovial then, or trying to be.

Ginny looked around the dusty old room and shivered. They hadn’t started cleaning this one out yet, so she’d do better to steer clear of it for now. It felt like something or someone was watching her, holding their breath and waiting for something. She hurried back to the room she shared with Hermione to wash up before dinner.

---

Sirius hadn’t been at dinner, a point her mother refused to acknowledge. In fact, she’d made every effort to behave as though everything was perfectly fine. The only indication that it was not was near the end of the meal when the dishes were being cleared away and her father voiced a quiet question about taking up leftovers.

“He’s a grown man. He can make his own food if he doesn’t want to eat with us.”

Ginny privately thought that even if Sirius had been a grown man when he was arrested, he’d not had much experience cooking the last fourteen years or so and should possibly be cut some slack since he was forced to put up with the lot of them all summer. Ginny loved her family, but even she knew they could be a bit much sometimes to outsiders.

They were all sent up to bed soon enough. Ginny tossed and turned for a while. She just couldn’t seem to settle, mind occupied with Dementor attacks and Harry skulking around his Muggle relatives’ house — which in her mind’s eye resembled something like Grimmauld Place as she’d never seen it before — barred from leaving just like Sirius was and they all had been since the start of summer.

After a while, she gave sleeping up and rose from her bed. The house seemed even creepier at night, things looming out of dark shadows at unexpected moments. She might lose her head if she ran across Kreacher with no warning. For some reason, her feet carried her upstairs instead of down; maybe she was unconsciously avoiding waking the portraits by mistake.

Ginny paused in front of the drawing room. As much as she didn’t like it in there, she also felt some sort of morbid pull towards it, almost like…

Shuffling feet a couple floors above broke her from her thoughts, and Ginny quickly backed up out of the room. She hadn’t even realized she’d opened the door and stepped inside.

She heard the footsteps again and decided to have a look. It was coming from the floor above Ron but below the twins. Ginny didn’t actually think anyone slept on this floor, come to think of it. She passed by a door labeled pompously with the name Regulus Arcturus Black, noticing a light on in a room she hadn’t thought was in use. Ginny went to the door and pushed it open a few inches.

Inside she found a bedroom in shocking red and gold after all the black, silver and green of the rest of the house. There were posters on the walls, still like Muggle photographs, of women in hardly anything. In the middle of it all stood Sirius, who looked to be sorting through some old papers.

He glanced her way. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Point taken.” He gestured around the place. “How do you like a fifteen year old’s attempt at decorating?”

It made a very sudden amount of sense. “This was yours?”

“Yeah, when I Iived here. The first time, anyway.” Sirius looked down, his face cast in shadow.

She could tell he was likely to wallow if she didn’t rescue the conversation soon, so Ginny said, “Well, it’s very typical boy.”

He laughed, not quite the bark that seemed to be his usual. “Oh, I wanted my mother to think so. She was too busy goggling at those Muggle girls I cut out of the advertisements in the magazines to realize I was reading up on motorbikes. I built my own, enchanted it and everything.”

A man after her father’s own heart, Ginny noted to herself. “And the Muggle girls weren’t a side benefit?”

He shook his head, hair whipping about his face like shaggy ears. “Never interested me much. If I can figure out how to undo the old Sticking Charms, they’ll be coming down.”

“How come?”

“Thought I might clean this up for Harry to use. Though your mum reckons he’ll go in with Ron. Probably better he does,” Sirius muttered as he rubbed at his face with one hand. “No sense being alone in this house.”

“No,” Ginny agreed.

“Still,” Sirius said, rallying himself. “Might be worth it to show him some things. Look here at this.”

He took a photo off the pile he’d been sorting through and handed it to her. Ginny nearly gasped at the sight of an older Harry — except it wasn’t Harry at all, but a similar-looking man with different shapes glasses and hazel eyes. He was chasing a green-eyed baby on a toy broomstick around a cozy sitting room while a woman with deep auburn hair laughed and laughed.

“This was his family?”

“Yeah, his first birthday. I couldn’t be there — they were in hiding already, and the Order was spread pretty thin. Back when we could do something about all this,” he noted, though the usual bitterness was softened as he continued to gaze down at the photo of the Potters. “So I sent him that toy broomstick. Lily said it was his favorite. She sent a letter with the photo, should be somewhere...here!”

He’d gone back to his pile and withdrew two pages of old parchment filled with Lily Potter’s neat script. Ginny held her breath as she took a piece of the past. Her eyes only skimmed the text. She couldn’t really concentrate on the words themselves, only that they’d been written by a woman who’d been killed less than three months later.

“Harry writes his ‘g’s the same way as her.” Sirius pointed it out with a finger, undeniably proud.

Ginny’s eyes jumped from one ‘g’ to another rapidly, zeroing in on the two capital ‘G’s in the name Gellert Grindelwald, which was mentioned for who knew what reason.

“Does he?”

“You don’t think so?” Sirius was frowning a little, like he thought she doubted him.

Ginny shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never really read Harry’s writing.”

“You don’t write letters at all? Not just this summer?”

“Oh. Well, Harry is Ron’s friend, really. We all like him, though,” she added quickly. “Actually, I, er, I sort of had this massive crush on him when we first met. Sort of makes things awkward. He probably wouldn’t want letters from me.” She turned away under the guise of setting Lily Potter’s letter down. “And I don’t know why I just told you that since you said that sort of thing was stupid.” He probably thought her a real idiot now.

“I said it wasn’t for me, not that it was stupid. James and the rest all thought I was the stupid one when it came to that.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say, not sure she really understood.

“Did Harry say he didn’t want letters from you? Doesn’t seem like him. Then again, he’s yet to ask me about girls.”

Ginny shook her head. “No, he’s always been nice about it. Even during everything with the Chamber.”

“Chamber?” Sirius asked, his brow furrowing.

There was a moment where she thought her face might heat up, but it passed. Ginny was so used to everyone sort of knowing, even if they never spoke about it, that she’d quite forgotten that Sirius would have no reason to. Well, almost no reason. “Er, I was tricked by an enchanted diary in my first year, and Harry had to come and rescue me. I was a blubbering mess.”

“Ah, well that’s alright then. I was completely useless two years ago when the Dementors nearly caught me. Harry doesn’t resent me for having to rescue my sorry arse.”

Ginny found her lips curving into a grin, which Sirius matched with his own. “Will he be here soon, then?”

Sirius nodded. “The Order’s arranging a guard to collect him and transport him here. Mad Eye’s been put in charge, so he’s keeping tight-lipped. But before the week is out, I’m sure.” He looked happier just to say that out loud. Even if Ginny had yet to see them in the same room together, she could tell how much care Sirius had for his godson.

Well, good. Harry ought to have someone who was there just for him. Merlin knew those Muggles in Surrey weren’t up to the task.

Sirius checked a fine watch at his wrist. “I’ll put in a couple more hours here. You should really get to sleep, though. I doubt your mum will let you skive off chores tomorrow.”

“You think she’ll let you?”

He really did bark a laugh that time. “Maybe not, but I’ve got Buckbeak upstairs to ward her off.”

Ginny sat on the side of the bed. “I’m not tired just yet, so I may as well keep you company. No sense being alone.”

Sirius paused, his gray eyes meeting hers and for once looking absolutely clear. “No. No sense at all.”

He went back to sorting through the old papers. Some, he explained, had been left behind when he’d first ran away from this place. The others had been collected over the last few months by Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore. He seemed particularly happy about a set of mirrors the Headmaster had managed to locate.

“These were mine and James’,” he told her. There were a lot of those asides about his old friends. Gradually, she found it comforting rather than unsettling; the more Sirius spoke about Harry’s parents, the more he seemed to breathe life back into them so that they weren’t the silent, shadowy figures in the old Boy Who Lived story, but real people.

“I wish I had James’ old notes. He used to draw snitches in the margins and hearts with his and Lily’s initials when he thought we all weren’t looking. You might check Harry’s homework some time, just to see if he’s the same…”

She thought again about Lily Potter’s capital G, trying to imagine it on a fresh piece of parchment accompanying a Dear Ginny...and she drifted off to sleep.

---

She hadn’t meant to, of course, and woke the next morning quite disoriented. For a moment, she thought she must be in her dorm at Hogwarts with all the Gryffindor colors surrounding her — then her eyes caught sight of a woman in little more than underthings and remembered. Sirius must not have been successful about that Sticking Charm.

There was a blanket over her she definitely didn’t remember pulling over herself.

Ginny stretched with a yawn and headed downstairs to see if she could find anyone else up. The only ones in the kitchen were her mother, brothers and Hermione.

“Morning, all.”

The twins and Ron gave vague murmurings of greeting, the three of them devoted to their breakfasts. It would take a few minutes for them to regain their wit.

Her mum set a plate down for her. “Eat up, dear, we’ve a lot of work to do.”

“Which room?” Ginny asked, her mind going back to the old drawing room for some reason.

“I thought we might tackle the second bathroom,” said her mum. “With Harry coming in, we’ll have more company and that much more need of it.”

“That bathroom’s too small for all of you to work on it,” said Sirius. They all turned to find him in the doorway.

“Well, I suppose we’re not needed today,” Fred remarked. Beside him, George placed his feet up on the table.

“Don’t think I won’t find something for you two,” their mum said, swatting at George’s feet. “Even if Sirius has decided he’s making up the chore list for today.”

He hardly seemed bothered by the sullen tone; Ginny suspected he rather enjoyed getting small rises out of people. “Actually, I was hoping to borrow the girls.”

Ginny blinked in interest even as her mum asked, “What?”

“Buckbeak needs to get out in the back for a bit, stretch his wings, general business.”

“I could go with Hermione,” Ron said.

“And never come back inside,” Ginny replied quickly. She wasn’t about to let an opportunity to get out of the house even for a few moments pass her by. “You and Hermione would get so distracted bickering that Buckbeak might just decide to fly away.”

“He’d be smart enough to manage it,” Sirius agreed. “Come on, I’ll bring him downstairs for you.”

Hermione patted Ron’s hand with sympathy while Ginny made faces at all of her brothers while their mother wasn’t looking.

“Have fun cleaning up Hippogriff dung,” George said in a low voice just as the two of them left through the kitchen door.

Ginny stood in the main hall with Hermione, each of them quiet as possible considering the portrait-lined walls. She noticed the older girl watching her, though, and had a feeling a question was just waiting for the chance to be asked.

Sirius returned but in his Animagus form, as he seemed to be demonstrating for Buckbeak how a four-legged creature ought to navigate steps. The proud Hippogriff followed slowly, snapping his beak once or twice when he nearly stumbled. Ginny sent a nervous glance back at Mrs. Black’s portrait, but the curtains remained shut.

Once both animals had reached the bottom of the steps, Sirius changed back. He took the reins Buckbeak wore and passed them off to Hermione. “He’ll trust you best. Ginny, you just give him a bow.”

She did so, waiting with her breath held until Buckbeak mirrored her.

“There. You two will be fine now.”

“Er, Sirius?” Hermione asked. “What should we do with the, erm, droppings?”

“What the old Purebloods did, naturally.”

Ginny let out a snort that she hastily covered with a hand over her mouth.

“Someone will take care of it. Off you go,” Sirius said before Hermione could voice no doubt a series of follow-up questions. “He’s impatient.”

Soon enough, Ginny was leading the way into the backyard. It was incredibly small and fenced in with hardly anything struggling to grow in it. Buckbeak pawed at the ground in places and tossed his head once or twice, forcing Ginny to grab onto the reins to help Hermione. It was obvious the animal longed to fly.

“Poor thing,” Ginny couldn’t help saying aloud. “You probably miss being on the run.”

“Where did you go last night?” Hermione asked her rather than comment on her conversation with Buckbeak, which seemed to her a bit rude. She hadn’t even left him room to reply.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you weren’t in your bed when I woke up but you weren’t down in the kitchen either. You acted like you’d just woken up when you joined us.”

There wasn’t much point to lying to her. Hermione was a much early riser than Ginny anyway — she’d gotten into the habit of sleeping in two shifts at a very young age, after all.

“I was in Sirius’ room.” At the great gasp and shocked face Hermione pulled, she let out a laugh. “His old bedroom, Hermione, not the one he’s staying in now! It’d get a bit crowded with Buckbeak in there, too.”

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed before immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. They both glanced about nervously, but the shout didn’t seem to have shattered the protection they were living under. “What were you doing in his old room?” Her friend hissed after the tense silence.

Ginny shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Sirius was sorting through some things in case Harry wanted to use the room.”

“But Harry always stays with Ron.”

“Not when he’s with the Muggles,” Ginny pointed out. “But he’ll probably stay with him here, yeah. That’s what Sirius thought mum would decide. So he was just going through some old things to show Harry, maybe. He’s got loads of stuff from his parents.”

For some reason, this caused Hermione to frown rather than smile like Ginny might have thought. “Yes, I wonder if Sirius isn’t a little more focused on Harry’s parents than on Harry.”

“What?” Ginny scrunched her nose up. “That’s barkers. He wants to show Harry their things, not ignore Harry for them. And wouldn’t Harry want to see them?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. He hardly ever talks about them, you know,” Hermione told her. “The only things he keeps of theirs were given to him by other people. I don’t know if his aunt just keeps everything else at home or if he doesn’t like the reminder.”

“Oh.” Ginny hadn’t thought of that. Harry always seemed to be so enthralled by the atmosphere and clutter of possessions that filled Ginny’s house that she’d always thought — but maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Harry didn’t want his parents’ things. Would it be too painful?

The door opened behind them.

“You’ll have to bring him in now.” Sirius stood two feet back from the door, hidden mostly in shadow. Ginny wondered if he’d been told to keep from opening or answering the doors. Like Buckbeak, his eyes were on the sky. “Your mum’s getting nervous,” he added to Ginny. Without further explanation, he turned and retreated into the house.

Ginny sighed. “Alright, Buckbeak. You heard the rules.”

The Hippogriff did not want to go back inside, but between the two of them they managed. Hermione led the way up to the master bedroom and peered inside. “Eugh, it’s filthy.”

There were animal bones littering the floor by Buckbeak’s makeshift nest of blankets. Ginny swallowed down a spike of panic and stayed in the hall.

“Wonder where he gets the food,” she said, for something to focus on.

“Well, I wonder where he keeps his rubbish bin. Honestly.” Hermione came out and shut the door, leaving Buckbeak to resettle inside. “You mother would be horrified if he let her see in there.”

“Mum’s horrified by a lot of things. Anyway, least the bones are picked clean.” Ginny started down the stairs with Hermione following. “One time the twins forgot a plate of chicken when they left for school and didn’t tell anyone. Their room smelled for weeks.”

“Oi. Not nice to talk about people behind their backs,” said George as he poked his head out of the second bathroom. He didn’t look too grimy, all considered.

“Good thing we were to the side of you, then,” Ginny replied without missing a beat.

He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“Girls?” Her mum called. “If you’ve finished with Buckbeak, see if Sirius needs anything else. Otherwise, I’ll have to find you something.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione answered.

Try as they might, they couldn’t find him. When Ginny checked his old childhood bedroom in hopes of catching him there, the old boxes of photos and letters were all packed up tight.

---

Harry came soon after, livening up the place with anger and nervous energy. Some of that dissipated once he learned more about the Order thanks to Sirius’ intervention — Ginny was still incredibly cross with her mother for forcing her to leave, even if she’d gotten it all from Hermione later anyway — and the rest left once the result of his hearing came back. Ginny had quite a bit of fun celebrating that with the twins.

Harry was soon roped into leaning the house with the rest of them, and Sirius began participating more obviously as well. She hesitated to call it fun, but it passed the time as well as anything.

Ginny often worked with Sirius because she reckoned if something was about to blow up in their faces it was best to be standing next to the wizard who knew the most magic and was capable of performing it outside school. When not with Sirius, she stuck by the twins for exactly the same reason.

It was also to give him and Harry some space. She knew in an ideal world, they’d have probably spent the whole summer together and come over to the Burrow for dinners or games of pickup Quidditch. Had Sirius even played? She’d seen Mr. Potter’s name on a trophy during the odd detention or two.

Sometimes Sirius would call her over on his own. “Ginny, take that end of the sofa with Harry, there. I’ve got this side.” Or, “Can you and Harry take that bag down to the front hall? Mad Eye’s collecting them to dispose of.” Always her and Harry, too.

But Harry ended up spending a lot of his time with Ron and Hermione, which was what often happened when the three of them were in the same space. With the twins holed up together planning their business and her mother on a cleaning warpath, Ginny often found herself in Sirius’ company. One afternoon she was perched on the flat surface of an unused vanity in the master bedroom as Sirius fed Buckbeak — with supplies from Dung, as it turned out. Pigwidgeon flitted about his head with slightly more calm than usual, while Hedwig slept standing on an ornate owl perch probably placed their decades I’d not centuries ago, and Crookshanks slept on the bed. He was a veritable magizoologist, and Ginny wondered if that might have been what he’d have become had there not been a war on.

Rather than puzzle about the possible career choices of Sirius Black, Ginny decides to voice her suspicions. “I know what you’re doing, and you may as well stop.”

“Think Buckbeak would be rather cross if I did,” he replied.

“Come off it,” she said, grinning in spite of himself. “Making Harry do things with me. I said I had a crush on him as a kid, not that I’m in love with him.”

“I never said you were either. Just reckon you two could be better friends.” He tossed the last animal carcass to Buckbeak, who scarfed it down with rather overdone messiness.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’ve been talking to a Ravenclaw boy the last few months. And Harry likes a Ravenclaw the year above him.”

“Hm, similar taste.”

“I’m — oh no.”

“Were you about to say it?” He finally turned to her with a full grin. “Everyone does at some point.”

“Not me.” She’d stopped herself early enough, thank Merlin. “I’m merely telling you in an earnest fashion to stop your nonsense if you think it’s helping.” Having skirted the mention of the homonym to his name, she nodded to herself.

“It could be my own mean-spirited joke. I was quite known for those in the day.”

Ginny looked him up and down, scrutinizing him. Perhaps what she knew of him was little, but, “Nah, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t make a joke about Harry.”

Sirius’ look became one of chagrin. “Caught me out, did you? You’re pretty brilliant, you are.”

“I’ve worked hard on it,” she said, not bothering to hide that she was pleased. It wasn’t often adults saw her for much more than the youngest and smallest of seven. “Since I am so brilliant, I suppose you might as well induct me into the Order now. I promise not to give its secrets away to Fred and George.”

He barked a laugh. “That decision would be up to Dumbledore. And your mother.”

“Was worth a try,” she sighed.

“Always is.”

Two loud cracks outside on the landing announced Fred and George’s sudden proximity. “Ickle Gin-Gin? Our mother is calling us to dinner,” Fred said, loud enough to be heard from where he stood on the landing but soft enough not to carry down to old Mrs. Black’s portrait.

“Special party for the perfect Prefects before they assume their duties on the train tomorrow,” George added. “Don’t want to be late!” They Disapparated with two more cracks, probably to search for her on other floors.

“Merlin, forgot it was already the thirtieth.” The usual milestones of summer had seemed muted in the darkened house. Even her birthday had passed by with little fanfare, everyone too concerned with Harry’s hearing the next morning to be in a mood for celebration.

“So it is,” said Sirius, almost too quiet for her to make out. He went to the bed and scratched Crookshanks behind his ears. “You finished all your work?”

“Left History of Magic for last. I’ll just scribble it down the morning before first class. Not like Binns knows the difference.” Ginny hopped down off the vanity and crossed to the door. “You eating with us?”

“I might be down in a bit. Save me a plate.”

“Alright.”

He did arrive in plenty of time for the party, but though he talked and laughed with all of them, Ginny thought there was a shadow hiding behind his eyes. The way he followed Harry about the room, sometimes right at his elbow and sometimes at a bit of a distance, made her think of his Animagus form. She wondered if Harry thought the same.

---

Having Sirius accompany them to the platform had been a wonderful sendoff no matter what Hermione said about vague threats Malfoy had made to Harry. So what if the Malfoys knew Sirius was in London? They’d probably already assumed that, and it wasn’t as if they could go to the Ministry without revealing their source was an illegal Animagus himself and reportedly dead man. The sheer joy in his eyes and in that foggy grin as he’d chased birds about the sidewalk and jumped up to bid Harry and the rest of them a last goodbye had been worth it, and Ginny wouldn’t be convinced otherwise.

She thought about Sirius every so often during the first term. Wondering what was going on at Headquarters, how he passed the time. Harry might know, but he had enough to be getting on with without her pestering him about his own godfather.

As the holidays neared, she wondered how Sirius would be spending them, too.

Then her dad was attacked and they were all back in Grimmauld Place, so in a way she was finding out.

Ginny wasn’t planning to stick around long enough for that, though. She waited long enough to hear Harry’s whole story after Sirius pulled her up from the floor when they were deposited by Dumbledore’s Portkey before stating, “We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s. Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything—?”

“Hang on, you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!”

Despite her and the twin’s arguments that they needed to see their dad, he refused. And she understood not wanting to draw attention to the unexplainable connection Harry seemed to have with You-Know-Who, she got that Sirius was trying to protect his godson. But this was her dad!

He made them sit and drink Butterbeer instead. What had happened to them being old enough to know things? To not being kept in the dark? Hermione had told her they’d gotten word of Sirius’ support for the D.A., so why was he suddenly acting like her mum?

She sat glaring into the fire for the rest of the night until her mum came back with news about her dad. Overjoyed as she was to know he was recovering, Ginny barely touched her breakfast. They still weren’t being allowed to go right away.

Her mum and Sirius were making nice at the stove — making nice! — and talking about bloody Christmas plans or something.

She couldn’t believe the lot of them.

Ginny was still so angry she couldn’t sleep the next night, even after seeing her dad for herself at St. Mungo’s. She’d forced herself to appear happy to her mother and the others on the trip, but betrayal at Sirius’ actions the previous night stewed in her like a stomachache.

She got up, heading down to the kitchen in the hopes that a cup of tea might soothe her enough to settle for a few hours.

Except that Sirius was already sitting at the table nursing a mug of something. She didn’t much care what it was. Probably more of Dung’s cheap liquor.

“Evening,” he greeted casually. When all she did was glare, he sat up a little straighter. “Something the matter?”

Ginny scoffed. “Really? You have to ask?”

She crossed to the cabinets and started opening and closing them with loud bangs, not really looking inside. She was being so her mum at the moment and hated it, but right now she was more interested in hating him.

Then his hand reached for the cabinet handle she’d been about to grab and pulled it open, taking out a tin of herbal tea. It occurred to Ginny then just how tall Sirius was; he spent most of his time either slumped into chairs or slightly hunched over.

It made her wonder how tall the cells in Azkaban were.

“Here. Unless you’re after something else.”

His words reminded her of her anger, and she wrapped it around herself like a cloak to ward off her chilling thoughts. “Like an apology maybe?”

She could hear the aristocratic raise of his eyebrow and didn’t even have to look to know it was there. “For?”

Ginny whirled around. “You didn’t back me up!”

“Of course I didn’t,” he said, and it sounded so damn dismissive she wanted to curse him, or punch him since that wouldn’t get her in trouble with the Ministry. “You weren’t thinking clearly.”

“And you got to decide that?”

“As the only adult in the room, yes, I did.”

Ginny petulantly opened her mouth to argue he hadn’t been the only adult in the room with Fred and George of age, but realized at the last second that would be playing into his hand.

So she struck lower.

“No one in the Order thinks you are.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed and for a single moment she was reminded of the wanted posters and how very terrified she had been of him the last several years of her life. “No, they don’t,” was all he said quietly. Then he turned his back to her.

“Sirius. I- I didn’t mean—” Somehow his lack of fight was so much worse than any shouting would have been. Because he was a fighter, and if he was giving up already then she didn’t know what that meant.

“Sometimes I forget the years. It’s hard not to, especially here. Then I see you or Harry or the others.” He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You’re nearly as old as we were, but don’t you see? How young that is.”

Her protests all seemed to have died on her lips.

“No one told us we were too young. No one tried to hold us back.” He shrugged. “We thought we were invincible, for a while. Then the bodies started piling up. And the Inferi came. And the Dementors…” Sirius shuddered, but he carried on in a hoarse tone, “Did you ever wonder why there’s barely forty kids in a year at Hogwarts anymore?”

“No,” she admitted quietly. “I thought it was normal.”

“I want you lot to be prepared, yes. Because it’s going to get uglier, a lot uglier, before it gets better. If it does. But I don’t want you to be like me.” His gray gaze held hers, and it sent chills up her spine. “I don’t want you to have their lives. I want you to grow old and have children of your own and get fed up when they yell at you for being such a broomstick in the mud.” His eyes were wet now. “I want you to have the lives they should have had. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I- I think I am tired after all.” She turned and left the kitchen, glancing back once to see Sirius leaning his back against the counter as he rubbed thumb and forefinger over his eyes.

She did what she’d always done since the Chamber with her tears and cried into her pillow for the lives that were never lived. And the lives that this war had yet to take.

---

She didn’t have a present for him, Ginny realized on Christmas morning. She hadn’t thought they’d be here for Christmas and hadn’t known how to get it to him. Then she’d been so distraught and angry the next few days. But they were all sitting around the table talking about their gifts and thanking each other, and she realized it didn’t seem as if he’d gotten a thing.

They were shuffled off to see her dad at St. Mungo’s, but when they returned Ginny hurriedly took out some parchment and ink and scrawled out a quick card.

“It’s an IOU,” she explained when she found him still stringing up tinsel on the bookcases in the library. He was big on decorating, she’d discovered in the days leading up to Christmas. “Next time we see each other, I’ll have the present.”

He hummed as he looked over the sloppily drawn tree. “And when will that be?”

“Next summer. We’ll be coming back here if nothing changes, won’t we? Or maybe you could come out to the Burrow for a day. Have you ever been?”

“No. But your uncles described it when your parents bought the land and started building the place.”

Ginny blinked. She’d forgotten Sirius had known her uncles. Ginny usually forgot about her uncles as well, but the looming war seemed to provide frequent reminders.

“They said it was hilarious,” Sirius added.

Ginny smirked. “Is a bit, yeah, but it’s home. You’ll have to come. I know King’s Cross is too public, but the house should be alright, shouldn’t it?”

“We’ll see,” was his answer. “But I accept this delayed present on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You help me spread some cheer today.” He threw some tinsel over her shoulder and wrapped the rest around his neck, galloping out of the room. Ginny laughed as they ascended the steps, and joined in on the second half of the verse of his carol.

“Oh, tidings of comfort and joy—”

A door flew open on the landing above, cutting them off mid-song.

“Sirius, please.” Her mum’s face was red and splotchy; probably still upset by the fight she and Ginny’s dad had had about the Muggle stitches. But she froze as she took in the sight of Ginny.

“Er, sorry, mum.”

“No. No, that’s alright, dear. It- it is a holiday,” she said. “Carry on.” Then she turned and shut the door.

“Downstairs, eh? Let’s see if we can find your brothers,” Sirius suggested, the tinsel train connecting them already tugging her in the other direction.”

“Right.” Ginny waited till they cleared the next landing, then heaved in a big breath.

“God rest ye, merry Hippogriff, let nothing you dismay!”

---

She never saw him again after that holiday.

A quick hug as she hurried down the stairs to join the others on their ride back to school was what she’d left with. She couldn’t remember if there had been words. It was a regret Ginny carried the rest of her life.

Harry at least had seen him and spoken to him before the end. She was proud she’d helped to give him that. Proud still that she’d gone with him to try and rescue Sirius. She’d do again in a heartbeat, especially if it did save him this time. But time didn’t work that way.

Three summers later, Ginny entered Number 12 Grimmauld Place for the first time since that Christmas before his death. She did it for Harry, since he didn’t want to go alone.

The house felt small and dim instead of strange and Gothic the way it lived in her memory. Kreacher wasn’t present — he’d opted to stay among the Elves at Hogwarts, lonely in his old age, they suspected. That was just as well; Ginny could only muster pity for him, no matter how much he had changed since the spring he helped orchestrate Sirius’ death.

They walked hand-in-hand through the house, using their wands to move the furniture that would be leaving to the front hall. Then Harry led them up to Sirius’ childhood bedroom, looking unsurprised as he stepped into total chaos. Ginny gasped.

“Snape did it,” Harry told her. “He was looking for something.”

“In Sirius’ things?”

“It’s complicated.” Everything with Snape was. She was still processing how she felt about her one-time Headmaster. “I wish I’d known all this stuff was here before,” Harry remarked, more to himself than anything as he looked about the parchment scattered on the floor.

“He was going to show them to you. He told me that, but I think...I think he got the impression you wouldn’t want to.”

Harry frowned. “How’d he get that impression?”

Ginny shook her head. It was on my a sneaking suspicion, nothing to get him riled up at Hermione over. They were all older now, and wiser for it. “I don’t know for sure. Only there was talk. I think he worried he was doing everything wrong by you.”

“Most everyone back then was telling him he was,” Harry said. “They didn’t understand. He wasn’t perfect, of course.”

“He had a lot of his own troubles.” Ginny was reading things, Muggle books Hermione had lent her. They talked about things they called illnesses but to her sounded like curses. Post-traumatic stress. Depression. The Dementors never had wands, but she thought they’d put a curse on Sirius all the same.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed softly. “Yeah, he did. He didn’t need to be perfect, though.”

Ginny stepped forward, circling her arms loosely around his lower back and forcing him to look at her. “He told me about some of this stuff. I can’t remember everything, but looking at it might help.”

Harry kissed her forehead. “It might.”

They packed up the boxes and antiques and furniture and left. Bill removed the Fidelus and Unplottable Charms, and it sold for a small sum before the year was out.

A weight lifted off her chest. One of her own curses gone.

---

They were having a boy. They’d gone to see one of the Muggle Healers. Her dad has been fascinated to know how much the Muggles could see about a baby that had yet to be born.

They’d gone in part because they were having trouble deciding on names. This was to be Harry Potter’s first child, after all, and like it or not people were going to obsess about it.

Her husband threw himself down into a chair. “I don’t want my name in it.”

“You have your dad’s name,” Ginny pointed out from her own seat. She preferred sitting to standing these days, though sometimes she grew stir crazy. “Bill has my dad’s, and I have my mum’s. It’s not like it’d be out of the ordinary.”

“It’s not that. It’s just...a lot to put on a baby, you know?”

She nodded.

“I’d rather give him my dad’s name. I always sort of thought I would. Only…”

“Only?” She prompted, knowing if she didn’t he’d just drew for another day or so.

“Sirius.” Harry looked at her, his eyes sad.

“Oh,” she said softly.

“When I think of — it’s horrible, isn’t it? But when I think of a dad, or what a dad would do.” He shrugged helplessly. “I know my dad would’ve if he’d been given the chance, I know that. I just…”

Ginny leaned as far as her belly would allow and touched his shoulder. “It’s understandable, Harry. Sirius was all you knew.”

“I know, but I know he’d never want to take my dad’s place.” He put his head in his hands, hair sticking out at even odder angles.

She thought for a while. He was right about Sirius’ wishes, but Ginny wanted to honor him, too. She always would.

“James Sirius, then,” she said after a moment, and Harry looked up. “That way, they’re never apart.”

His face slowly split into a wide grin, his shoulders slumping in relief. “You’re brilliant, you are.”

She closed her eyes, smiling at memories of a young girl who’d thought herself so grown up. “Suppose I am.”

At least she’d had the chance to become one. Ginny rested her hand on her stomach, feeling James Sirius kick to meet the touch.

The life they should’ve had. The life that every child could have now. Sometimes it didn’t feel real.

She’d fight every day to keep it, though. Sirius has said once that some things were worth dying for, like the children he’d charged into battle to protect. But some things were worth living for, too.

Ginny would never forget that.

#hinny #ginny weasley #sirius black #harry potter #hp #my writing

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boarix · 5 years

Text

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XVI

Who We Are

Trigger Warnings: Canon violence/language/drug, alcohol and gun use. Suggestive content.

Bloody Mess Warning!

Game spoilers!

Please enjoy!

“Attention Tenpines, this is General Wraith. Captain Danse’s patrol is to hold position there. I repeat; the long patrol from Sanctuary is to remain in Tenpines until further notice! Do you read?!”

“Transmission received; however the patrol has left. Do you copy? General?”

Wraith stood frozen as her field of vision narrowed to single point to the east. The radio operator’s urgent questions growing dim then silent as the rushing, roaring reverberations of fear and rage filled her ears.

“General?”

Infamy was frustrated.

The plan had been to take out the largest of the two adults then set the herd on the other while Atom’s Assassin made short work of the child. A swift and easy kill, it would allow them to move on to MacCready and minimalize the loss of the ferals.

Infamy was misinformed.

Expertly trained, Shaun was far and away from an easy kill. Ignoring the cut on his hand, his priority was helping MacCready. But before he could, Shaun decided that the glowing one, leering and taunting before him, needed to be dealt with first.

Rad-X… need Rad-X…

Normally while facing an opponent, Infamy could tune into visual cues that would allow them to predict when and where the next attack would come. But there was something different about this child; his whole presence suddenly changed to what could only be described as absolute stillness.

Infamy was intrigued.

The ghoul charged him as soon as Shaun reached for the chem pocket on his bandolier. Allowing the glowing one to close the distance he deflected their blade and twisted away trying to trip them as they passed. Just as the weapons came together, his opponent sent a small burst of radiation down their arm, directly into his face.

When the child dropped to the ground, his Pip-boy Geiger counter ticking wildly, Infamy had a passing notion that this might be a short fight after all. Triumph turned to dismay as Shaun slashed their ankle in an attempt to sever their Achilles tendon. Rolling a few feet away then vaulting back to his feet, the youth turned back to Infamy, his face expressionless.

“Back where we started? Is that what you think? Won round two?! Oh very good, little boy. But, mine will heal in a blink… your irradiated wound will take much, much longer though. Hmm? Yes, that’s right; poison, poison, poison. Hehe.”

A sudden, agonized scream from the cliffside indicated Dogmeat had found Danse’s shooter and the ferals were beginning to dwindling as MacCready overcame them.

Infamy was in trouble.

In the space of a blink Shaun flicked his wrist and a small throwing knife flew toward the ghoul. Using the distraction he dashed to his fallen rifle. Rather than stoop to retrieve it, he hooked the strap with his boot and spun it up his body while simultaneously sheathing his bayonet; turning and firing twice into Infamy’s central mass as soon as the weapon was in his hands.

Answering an unspoken call, the few remaining ferals disengaged from MacCready and sprinted to the assassin. The glowing one, who had been hunched over the wounds on their torso, suddenly lifted their head and threw back their shoulders, casting out an enormous blast of radiation. Pushed to the ground, Shaun was unable to fire again and the collective escaped into the brush. Staggering to his feet, he prepared to pursue, but MacCready’s call stopped him.

“Shaun! RadAway, NOW!”

His vision blurred, he fumbled with the snaps, “I… don’t… are you…”

MacCready screaming his name was the last thing he heard before the dirt rushed up to meet him and the world turned to black.

He couldn’t see.

Pain. So, so much pain. Breathing hurts… where? What happened to me? What was I doing?

He couldn’t feel his leg.

Is it gone?! No… it’s underneath… I can feel blood… Why CAN’T I SEE?!

All he could hear was ringing.

If I call, will anyone hear me? I think… need… a medic. I… I need…

“Elder Maxson… Arthur? Haylen! Rhys! Are you there?!”

Where is my armor?! Am I still on the Prydwen? Did… did she fall?!

“Can anyone hear me?! I… I need help… please…”

“Open your eyes for me, kiddo.”

MacCready’s voice seemed far away.

“Please, buddy.”

“RJ… you’re squeezing my hand too tight.”

Shaun could feel strong arms gently embrace him and then soft shaking as MacCready’s fear was broadcast through his touch.

“You scared me half to death, kid.”

“Danse!” Lurching to his feet, Shaun lost his balance and had to rest against MacCready, “Ugh, it’s so dark. How long was I out? We have to go look for him!”

“You took a pretty heavy, direct hit. You’ve been out for almost an hour.” Holding him at arm’s length, MacCready’s brow was furrowed; he knew Shaun wouldn’t like what he was about to say, “I’m taking you back to Tenpines…”

“NO!” Wrenching himself free, he pointed accusingly, “I know you don’t like him, but he’s our friend! We can’t just leave him! He needs our help! He may still be alive…”

“Or he’s not.” Shaun’s shocked and angry expression made MacCready hate himself, “I never said I was going to abandon anybody. Dogmeat will stay. You are still sick. You need help. Right now you’re alive and right in front of me. You are the priority.” He lifted his chin, “The faster we get to Tenpines the faster I’m back out here, with a Minutemen medic, looking for our friend.”

Finally noticing the pain and fatigue in MacCready’s voice, Shaun switched on his Pip-boy lamp and took a closer look at him, “OH MY GOD… YOUR EAR!”

“Ow! I can still hear out of it, ya know.”

Wraith had modded a new duster for MacCready and so in spite of being chewed and clawed at by a baker’s dozen of feral ghouls, none of his injuries were life threatening. His face had suffered some minor bruises and scratches but the thing that was really pissing him off was his ear.

“Don’t tell me how much is left… fu… frickin’ monster bit me…” Turning away from the light he set a brisk pace north, “And no, I don’t want a stimpak or gauze or… it’s fine, just let it bleed.”

Wordlessly, Shaun put the rejected aid back in his pockets and followed.

He’s… he’s such a badass!

Wraith, Hancock and Curie were sprinting to Tenpines. Flanked by the Gáe Bulg Hounds (including Strong), all three were wearing Heavy Dragoon armor, packed to the gorget with as much heavy-duty ordinance and medical equipment as possible. Having little to no information on the size and firepower of Infamy’s force, Wraith was leaving nothing to chance. This wasn’t a time for stealth.

The Calvary was on their way.

“MacCready, I want to find him as much as you do, but I don’t think climbing down a cliff in the dark is… safe.”

“I didn’t ask for your stupid opinion, Jesse. I told you to come over here and hold a flashlight!”

After leaving Shaun in the care of the Tenpines settlers, MacCready, the settlement’s head medic Varsha and two Minutemen ran back to Dogmeat. They found the canine sitting on the cliff’s edge, whining while looking down to where Danse had fallen.

“It’s fine, Jesse. Just do as he says.” Varsha tied a rope to a nearby tree stump, “Louie, I want the rest of the lines and the block and tackle secured from those trunks over there and we should weight test them before we climb down. Captain Danse is a large man and one way or another he’s coming back up the cliff with us. We’ll use the walkie once he’s secure.”

MacCready froze when they reached him.

“Oh… I’m very sorry MacCready… I know you were friends.”

It didn’t seem real.

“I’d understand if you don’t want to help me, but if you wouldn’t mind keeping your flashlight on…”

“He’s not dead.”

“MacCready… he… look at him…”

“He. Is. Alive.”

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Danse’s chest rose and fell as he breathed.

“Well, holy shit!”

Curie practically flew around Tenpines’ small clinic. Setting up for surgery without the benefit of triage was frustrating her. After sanitizing her hands and the various medical equipment, for perhaps the eleventh time, she felt the tears start.

“Sacrebleu, I had best get this out of my system…”

Wraith had gone outside and was stomping around the settlement in her power armor; her laps an attempt to calm the roaring in her ears.

“Wraith… sure as yer goin’ to wear out yer core…”

“I know, Cait. I know, but the sound is very satisfying… Shaun’s lucky I haven’t been carrying him around with me…”

“Ye knowin’ that’d embarrass the shite out of him?”

“GrrrrraARRRRRAH! How could I be so stupid?!” Deciding that it was too late at night and she was being too loud, she exited the armor and waved to Strong, “This isn’t working! Come on Strong; let’s go punch some trees down.”

“ALPHA HAS THE BEST PLAN!”

“Stop it! You stupid… How are you even awake?! Quit fighting me, man!”

Danse was partially conscious and was hindering all attempts to secure him to the backboard. As severe as his injuries were, he was still strong enough that MacCready and the medic were worried that strong-arming him might cause further damage.

“Who’s there? Where is Scribe Haylen? I have to return… Cutler… I’ll never forgive you!”

“Danse, it’s MacCready!” Wincing sympathetically, he used a boot to hold down an arm so he could secure a strap, “Snap out of it!”

Varsha frowned at his tactics, “Easy! He’s concussed and delirious…”

“I could see his stupid SKULL; I KNOW HE’S…”

“For fuck’s sake, stop yelling! Though I doubt he can hear you… or see you…”

Hardly daring to believe it, MacCready passed his flashlight back and forth in front of Danse’s eyes. There was no discernable reaction. Staring hard at the blood stain, which grew ever larger, on the bandages wrapped around the large man’s head, his voice was a soft whisper, “Is Curie going to be able to patch a hole that big?”

Varsha took it to be a rhetorical question. Stepping back, she shown her light back up the cliff face, “We are going to need to somehow guide him up… he can’t afford any more bruises.”

“Of course I know about Elder Lyons! Get out of my face… I can’t stand the way they look at me! Why do they make me sad?!” Danse’s eyes filled with tears and he gasped as they spilled down his cheeks, “I had to kill you! Don’t you understand?! You were my brother!”

MacCready didn’t know how Danse was suffering, but he could see that it was more than physically. Shocked to feel tears of his own, he cleared his throat, “We… You should ride up with him and I’ll help pull. Keep the walkie on and you can yell at us if we’re too fast.”

Varsha shook her head, “Now that I’m looking… Grinding over the rocks… I don’t know if the ropes will hold.”

“MacCready, you there?”

“That sounded like Hancock…” Simply hearing the ghoul’s voice, crackling through the walkie-talkie, sent a wave of relief through him, “So the Calvary has arrived, huh?”

“That’s no joke! Look, I should be able to hold the pulley out away from the cliff. I’ll be a crane so we can haul up the Cap’n plus one. Case one of ya wants to guide him over bumps.”

“I’m not sure taking that much Buffout is wise, Mr. Mayor.”

“…I’m in power armor, kids. Let’s hurry it up! Chafes somethin’ terrible…”

When MacCready reached the group he couldn’t help the semi-hysterical laugh that tumbled from him, “What are you wearing?!”

Bright Nuka-Cola red with the words “Justice and Liberty for All” emblazed in gold above the Dragoon’s standard, Hancock’s power armor was a sight to behold.

“What, ya don’t like it?” Sweeping his arms out wide, he somehow managed an elegant turn, “Danse modded it just for me. Though, I don’t use it much ‘cause the… cockpit don’t cut it, ya feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you.”

The sun had made its way well into the sky before Curie and her medical team emerged from surgery. Weary and bloodstained, the doctor sank into a chair. With the Tenpines clinic being as small as it was Danse’s worried friends were taking turns waiting in the anteroom. Hancock was on duty and he rose from his own chair to offer her a container of water.

“So, how’s our boy doin’?”

“He is still critical. If I could, I would have him in an ICU. He will need additional blood… I was able to save his leg but mon ours will need knee-replacement surgery, much like madame and her shoulder. He has multiple broken ribs and…” Trailing off, she had brought a hand to her forehead but now held it away from her, staring at the bloodstains in horror, “These conditions are unacceptable! I need the equipment in my own surgery and I needed to have had the modified memory lounger online… The pressures on his optic nerves might abate…” Standing now, she stared at her palms while tears streamed down her face, “I cannot save him here! I cannot move him from here! I must save MON AMOUR!”

Hancock embraced her, “Stop, Baby Bird! He’s strong and so are you!” He held her tightly for a moment before easing her back to her seat. When he spoke his tone had dramatically changed from his normal gruff mean-street slang to something closer to a parent, “You are overdone right now and you need to shut your eyes and rest. Varsha has a chart on him, correct? She and I will monitor him. Wraith and Shaun will hold his hands. There are people here who love you both and will be here the whole time to help you.” He waited until she nodded, “Rest now, fight again later.”

Despite the risks involved it was clear that Danse would have to be moved to Sanctuary. The settlement brahmin were sweet and docile but neither were trained wear a harness, let alone to pull a cart. And while Wraith was certain she was strong enough to carry him, his bulk would be awkward for her to hold over the distance. While Wraith redressed MacCready’s ear wound, Shaun brainstormed with her on something that the more adaptable mutant hounds could pull.

“Their saddles don’t have the right… parts.” Shaun was hung-up on the idea that it had to be a wheeled vehicle, “He needs to ride as level and steady as possible.”

“OW! Wraith, I’m begging you, please stop!”

“Mac, if you’d stop pulling away from me… What about the power armor? Maybe…”

“STRONG WILL CARRY METAL MAN!”

Surprisingly, they hadn’t noticed the super mutants approach and so there was a collective flinch. Struck dumb, the group stared at him wordlessly.

“HUMANS BROKEN?!”

“Sorry Strong, ol’ buddy, just didn’t expect you to volunteer.”

“Don’t like it here. NO FIGHT! STRONG TAKE METAL MAN, THEN STRONG CAN GO BACK TO ROCKET AND WORK WITH BEAR-GHOUL.” He nodded to himself as if it was a unanimous decision.

“It might be too bumpy a ride, Strong.”

“ALPHA TRUST STRONG.” He drew his hand through the air in a steady line, “Strong smooth.”

“I think I might have lived my whole life just to hear that.”

“Mac…”

Strong indeed had the capacity for smoothness and the journey back to Sanctuary was nerve-wracking but ultimately uneventful. Wraith had sent a plea for assistance to Dr. Amari over Radio Freedom even before the group had left. And after returning, she arranged for the doctor’s escort, set about establishing contact with all emergency Minutemen patrols and went through a settlement radio check-in.

Islode was sympathetic, but had no more insight that was particularly helpful, “General, I have told you all that I know. Please allow me to return to my people.”

“I can only assume that she or they are watching the roads.” Wraith was grim, “Watching and waiting. You step one foot outside Sanctuary and you’re toast.”

“I have to believe she wouldn’t kill me. My own daughter…”

“So she has been acting in a manner that is completely normal for her then?” Dropping the diplomatic and formal tone, Wraith was sarcastic, “Totally sane and not fanatical or psychotic at all. Right. She’s predictable based off of past behavior.”

“You have every right to your wrath and your mistrust, but what is the point of keeping me here? If she were to kill me, then what would be the determent to you?”

“What… Islode, I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I am not a conqueror!” Rising from her office chair, she swept an arm through the air, “This is not my throne room. This is my office in my home. The Children are my neighbors. I am trying to cultivate a peaceful relationship with them and you are key to that process.”

“Holding me prisoner isn’t very peaceful.”

Arms falling to her side, she lowered herself slowly back to her seat, her green eyes twin lasers aimed directly at Islode’s, “Nor were the attacks on Kingsport Lighthouse.” Leaning back, she allowed her gaze to soften, “I don’t want you to die Mother Islode. I care about you as a person. You may leave any time that you wish, but you will have an armed escort.”

“I fear then that after you, Infamy will be set upon me and all potential for peace will have been shattered regardless.”

“Then I won’t let them get past me.”

All of her busy work was meant to take Wraith’s mind off the fact that in addition to the constant threat of attack; Danse had not woken up since Curie had administered the pre-op anesthetic.

“With Sturges’s assistance, I should have the lounger modified and we will get some nice images of Captain Danse’s brain soon.” Amari smiled and patted Curie’s shoulder, “His vitals are remarkably good, considering all he’s been through! He is breathing on his own and appears to have maintained limb sensitivity… You and he have both done very well, Dr. Curie.”

“Merci beaucoup, Dr. Amari. I…” Swallowing back tears, she lifted her chin, “We will not give up. We will fight.”

“If there is anything else you need Baby Bird…”

Sagging into her office chair, Curie placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes, “I feel that I am tied into knots! There are items that I was going to request of you before… They would have been useful now, but I cannot ask you to…”

“Ask! Please! I can’t help Danse directly like you can and I’m going bonkers; I’ve already re-organized my re-organizing and also double-checked my already-organized task lists and check lists!”

Laughing, Curie shook her head, “There is a difference between task lists and check lists?”

“I have to check-off my tasks, don’t I?”

Rising from her chair, she held her arms out for a hug, “Oh Madame, thank you for that.”

Wraith gently patted her back, “I’m glad I could make you laugh. In all seriousness though, what can I get for you?”

“I need a GC/MS, LC/MS/MS, HPLC a FID or even a GCD.”

“That’s… a lot of letters…”

“I have Institute technologies and a Biometric scanner that aid me in many, many things but data for therapeutic reference ranges… The research I am doing on new medications would be greatly enhanced by these machines.” She held out her hand, asking for Wraith’s Pip-boy, “I can give you a list and mark possible locations on your map.”

“Couldn’t I just, pick them up from your old lab?”

“Most of the remaining data and equipment in Dr. Collins’s lab has been scrapped by Vault Eighty-one’s residents. I had some of my students look into it a little while ago and I had hoped to have assistance from Dr. Cabot and Doctor… Virgil…”

“I should’ve helped you with that…”

“Madame has not spent all her time and efforts training us, either directly or securing teachers for us, to still do everything for us.” Realizing the irony of her words even as she handed Wraith back the Pip-boy, she frowned and sat motionless for a second, “Oh…”

“No take backs, Curie”

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t beat them, grandma!”

Wraith was having Shaun help her get gear together to give him another opportunity to vent. She felt bad that she was leaving and wanted to give him as much one-on-one time as possible before she did.

“There is nothing to be sorry about! I know that you’re frustrated but please believe me when I say that you did a… awesome job fighting them off.” She grabbed his arms and gave him a gentle shake, “MacCready says that you were incredible!”

“Yeah, well, not incredible and awesome enough to help Captain Danse… or you.” He stuck his lip out, “I want to contribute! I want… to be a valuable team member.”

“Oh, honey.” She wrapped her arms around him, “Of course you helped us! You were able to fight off a assassin which gave Mac time to get free of the ferals. If… WHEN, we save Danse it’ll be because you fought for us.”

Burying his face into her embrace, his sullen reply was muffled, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. You should be proud at how… multifaceted you are. You are a competent fighter as well as an engineer. You contribute! Just… hold off on being a warrior for a little while yet. At least until you’re taller than me.”

MacCready elected to stay in Sanctuary, explaining, rather unnecessarily, that he wanted to watch over his son. Although, Wraith had a suspicion that, due to how much time he spent walking past the clinic, he was also harboring feelings of guilt over Danse’s condition.

“Turrets, Minutemen, the Hounds, Dogmeat, Panther and Lloyd are fine and all, but there’s nothin’ quite as good as me.”

“And so modest too…”

“Hey man, I’m just stating the obvious.” A brief flash of doubt crossed his face and he hurried to cover it by turning from Hancock and kissing Wraith goodbye, “Where exactly are you two going anyway?”

The ghoul noticed his consternation, “No worries, MacCready. We are going to pop over to Med-Tek, maybe Medford Memorial and be back before you have to trim yer goatee!”

He favored him with a dramatic eye-roll before giving him a kiss as well, “Who’s worried? It’s not like every time she’s out of my sights, disaster falls.”

“Hey now! I’m not… that’s not… accurate…” Hands on her hips, she stuck her tongue out at him, “I don’t always get hurt!”

“I didn’t say the disasters befall you.”

“’Befall’, huh? Fancy.”

“I thought you’d appreciate.”

She extended her middle finger behind her as she turned away, “Love you.”

Med-Tek was a surprising bust. Most of the equipment had been smashed either by the ferals or the slowly decomposing building. And although they were able to acquire some hardware components with the idea that Curie may be able to build the devices herself, there were no whole, undamaged machines.

“I really thought that we’d find everything here.” Failing to mask her frustration she kicked at a block of fallen debris, “I was itching to be out doing something, but now I’m anxious being away.”

“I know what you mean… not exactly a fun adventure this time.”

Wraith was elbow deep in the ruins of a machine a few moments later but turned her head to look at Hancock when she heard odd crunching and smacking sounds, “Are you feeding them?!”

“Yeah, they keep looking at me like their beggin’.”

“What are you feeding them?”

“Just some Crisps…”

As they had fought their way through the facility, as would sometimes happen near Wraith, three of the feral ghouls had come to their aid and subsequently followed them through the building to the research lab. Hancock had dubbed the trio Larry, Moe and Curly. Wraith shook her head as he tossed them another handful. He reminded her of an old man, sitting on a park bench feeding pigeons.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” She came to flop into a chair next to him, suddenly sad and tired, “You have to make sure everyone gets fed.”

“I gotta be me… I can’t be right for somebody else, if I’m not right for me, I gotta be free, I’ve gotta be free.”

After turning himself into a ghoul, Hancock’s voice had changed and it troubled him deeply. For a time his singing hobby was shelved and it wasn’t until he began traveling with Wraith that he felt the compulsion again. She admitted that she had no frame of reference but assured him that despite its growling edge, his voice was remarkably compelling. On those rare occasions that he did sing now, his newfound joy was in her enjoyment.

“Heh, look. The Stooges like my howling too.”

All three of the ferals had stopped shoveling Crisps into their faces and were sitting at rapt attention.

“Maybe we’ll start a band…”

Wraith chuckled, kissed his cheek and went back to looking for parts, “Medford has extensive labs that were surprisingly intact the last time I was there but they have something I really don’t want to deal with.”

“Mutants… I thought you cleared ‘em out for Garvey.”

“I have. Twice.” She casually flipped over a filing cabinet, “Last reports have a new batch that have set-up there.” She twirled her wrist, “Just how Mac and I cleared all the ferals here, yet here we are lighter in ammo and heavy in gore.”

“And richer in friends.”

“Oh, noooo. I’m sorry but those three will have to stay here.” She was surprised that Hancock actually looked sad, “It’ll be safer… for them.”

“Have you given any more thought to this Mother’s Favored One bit?”

“Any more thought?” Her tone was harsh, “How about none?”

“None thought, huh?” He gestured to the ferals, “You appear to have more clout with my cousins than most.”

“As you said, I gotta be me. And that ain’t me.”

“How about that… you being… being my wife bit?” His voice was soft and fearful.

Abandoning the rubble, Wraith moved to Hancock and bent at the waist with her hands on her knees so she could look directly into his eyes, “Did you just purpose to me?”

“I… dunno… I’ve… I can’t get free of what mom Atom said.” The normally brash and brazen ghoul was humble, “Would you? I mean, I understand if you don’t wanna put labels on it.” His laugh was forced, “Heh, I know you and MacCready‘ve been married before so…”

“All I know is that I love you both dearly. We should talk to Mac, but I honestly don’t think he’d object. If you want to get married then… let’s do it!”

The joy on Hancock’s face made Wraith’s heart hurt. Both teared up as he stood and swept her into his arms. He twirled her around before the two settled into a deeply passionate kiss. They soon broke it off when they noticed the ghoul trio had shuffled closer. It was almost as if the ferals thought they might have to intervene on Wraith’s behalf.

“Can we have a big party? Like Nicky?”

“Sure, Hancock. Big party.”

“Invite everybody?”

“Sure; everyone we know.”

“So… the Stooges…”

“No, Hancock.”

“… send them some aid?”

Deacon wasn’t listening. Recently, a synth had passed through Underworld who looked so much like Wraith that it had twisted his insides and fogged his mind. Even now, during an important meeting, as soon as her name came up, his mind went someplace else. Back to when he first realized he was in trouble. Back when his greatest lie was that he hadn’t fallen in love with her.

They had stopped in an abandoned house between Railroad missions and Wraith was making them dinner. She had her Pip-Boy tuned to Diamond City Radio and was humming along; off-key of course. She had removed her heavy armor pieces and was in long john pants and a t-shirt. He had gently ribbed her on the quality of her performance, but instead of getting mad she had smiled at him and began dancing and singing to the ladle as if it were a microphone.

He was utterly entranced.

I don’t want us to just be… this. I want to dance with her. I want to… I want to make love to her and hold her in my arms after.

“Harley!” Nyx made a grab for his sunglasses, “Are you asleep? Please fucking pay attention!”

“Sorry, Boss.” Evading her swipe, he leaned back in his office chair and brought his arms up behind his head in a big, fake stretch, “I’m really tired. Fawkes and me have been practicing our synchronized swimming routine… huge competition coming up…”

Nyx’s mouth twisted in an attempt to hide a smile triggered by the ridiculous image her brain concocted, “Not funny. What’s the last thing you heard?”

“Uh…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Oh my fucking… To recap; we have reports that Infamy has been hired to attack Minutemen settlements. So far there has been minimal damage, however…”

“The General can take care of it…”

“However…” Nyx’s voice softened, “We have it on good authority, that Danse has been killed.”

Deacon’s insides went cold.

“With Wraith involved, there is a chance that agent Governor and the Commonwealth branch may come under threat as well. So I’ll ask again; should we send our expert on Infamy? Should we send them aid?”

“We have a Infamy expert?”

The four super mutants milling around in front of Medford Memorial looked particularly nasty.

“I’m less then excited to engage…”

“Your report say anything that might make this easier? I’m all for runnin’ in with guns ablaze, but we don’t know how many more there are and it’s like you said, we are lower on ammo than when we started this hike.”

“Just that their alpha… Hmm…”

“Whatcha got for me?”

Wraith took Hancock by the arms, kissed him fiercely and stared into his eyes, “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely.”

To the ghoul’s utter shock Wraith popped up out of their hiding spot and marched confidently toward the enemy.

“I CHALLENGE GOREKNUCKLE FOR ALPHA!”

The reaction was shared by the mutants and they stood with mouths agape. Wraith was less than 20 feet from them when one finally managed to corral enough brain cells for a response.

“STUPID HUMAN! GONNA EAT YOU!”

“HA! WEAK MUTANT WORDS FROM… A WEAK… shit…uhhh… BLEEDER!”

To Hancock’s relief, the mutants seemed just as confused as he was and none were even reaching for their weapons. Jogging out after her, he decided he should play herald. “Not just any human; Wraith, General of the Minutemen, Wraith-the-Undying, Death-in-the-Shadow, The Fog Walker, Grinder of the Bucket Heads, Alpha of Strong, Slayer of Fist, Conqueror of Swan and Deathclaw’s Bane!”

Standing as tall as possible she set her hands on her hips and laughed maniacally, “BWAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Bring me to your alpha; if he isn’t too scared…”

Setting their brutish heads together, the group discussed whether or not it might be worth having an ear literally chewed off for granting the crazy human’s request. In the end, the general consensus was that they were bored, and this was… something. Even if they didn’t fully grasp what it was.

“STUPID HUMAN FOLLOW GUT BAG!”

At first glance, outside of a slight yellow cast to his skin, Goreknuckle seemed much like any other super mutant. But his eyes held intelligence and his voice was relatively soft, “THIS IS STRANGE, HUMAN. IT’S NOT SMART TO COME HERE. BROTHERS SAY YOU CHALLENGE ME FOR ALPHA. THAT’S STUPID.”

“So, you don’t accept? Afraid I’d win?” Wraith folded her arms to hide her shaking hands, “I don’t blame you; I’m really scary.”

The alpha’s sudden, bombastic laughed surprised them all, “HA! YOU’RE FUNNY. OKAY, STUPID HUMAN. I WILL LET YOU CHALLENGE ME.” He gave her a sly smile, “WE ARM WRESTLE!”

“Perfect… except my forearm isn’t long enough. How about a thumb war instead?”

“Uhhh, Alpha Wraith? Quick word?”

Wraith let the ghoul lead her away from the group, “Problem?”

His eyes briefly narrowed as his head twitched sideways, “You seriously gonna wrestle a green skin?”

“Strong has never beaten me.”

Hancock’s dark eyes widened and then he flashed her a sultry smile, “I want you so bad right now.”

“Not in front of the mutants, dear.”

The battle was to take place in the operating theater so that the entire pack could watch as their mighty alpha crushed a puny, stupid human in an epic… children’s game. Wraith suggested the venue to count the packs numbers. She was happy to see they only had 7 mutants counting Goreknuckle.

She could work with that.

The dramatic contrast of size as the combatants squared up was as comical as the contest itself. Sitting cross-legged on the surgical table, Wraith appeared calm and unconcerned as a seated Goreknuckle loomed over her.

Hancock and Gut Bag stood behind their respective alphas and made threating gestures at each other.

“Do you know the rules?”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS.”

“Winner is alpha.”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS!”

“Say it. Unless you’re too… yellow.”

“GRRRAHHHHHHAAAA! WINNER IS ALPHA OF GOREKNUCKLE PACK!”

“Oh! Hey, can you count? Cause we’re supposed to chant…”

“GOREKNUCKLE KNOWS!”

Wraith pinned him in a half second.

It was so shockingly anticlimactic that the entire room went completely silent.

As intelligent as he was, the alpha quickly degenerated into a wild beast and “broke the rules” by roaring in Wraith’s face and attempting to shake himself free. When he found he couldn’t move his arm he brought his other to bear, swinging it about in a ferocious punch. Jumping slightly, Wraith caught his forearm between her legs and rolled, twisting his limbs together painfully and locking them with her knees. Remembering that he could stand up, the alpha brought his arms and Wraith high into the air before smashing them onto the steel table.

Hancock flinched, “You okay?! That one looked like it stung…”

Wraith snarled in response before twisting herself free, ripping the alpha’s arms clean off as she did.

Goreknuckle was not unlike a lawn sprinkler as he spun away; a great spray of blood coating his fellow pack-mates who had the unfortunate luck of sitting in the splash zone.

Wraith roared at the mutants triumphantly, bringing the disembodied arms above her head and waving them around like pennants at a ball game, “GRRRAAHAAAAA! I am your ALPHA! You are the Pack of the Wraith now!”

It only took a second for the mutants’ eyes to shift from disbelief to murder.

An expert at reading an audience, Hancock tossed a grenade into the seats. After a couple of clean-up shots with his shotgun the room was secure. Wraith was still on the table when he circled back around; staring at Goreknuckle who remained standing even after death.

“He’s like a Venus de Milo…”

Hancock laughed, “You okay?”

“I hurt my butt.”

“HA! It’s just like MacCready said; disaster! You want some Med-X?”

“Yes please.”

Hancock helped her down and passed her the chem, “What would you have done if they’d gone for it?”

“I’m sure I would have thought of something… they could have helped us today; Curie also needs nitrogen and helium tanks to run her alphabet machines.”

“Oh, I see how it is! It’s perfectly fine for you to bring six super mutants home, but I’m not even allowed three small feral ghouls!”

Wraith giggled, “Can you imagine… us coming back with… No, I knew it wasn’t going to work. I took me a long while to earn Strong’s respect. And he’s more receptive to new ideas than most mutants I’ve met.”

“So you saw seven super mutants and thought ‘I can take ‘em’?” Hancock wrapped his arms around her, gore and all, “And people call me a monster.”

“I gotta be me.”

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins tag for the story link-tree. If you have any questions/comments/concerns please feel free to send me an ask. Anon too. More to come =^..^=

#wraith in the ruins #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fan fiction #fallout fanfic #john hancock fanfic #rj maccready #hancock #fallout danse #paladin danse #fallout curie #curie #maccready #fallout strong #strong #super mutant #fallout cait #cait fallout 4

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cardiaceyes · 5 years

Text

I’m trying to be good

Ships: Sam/Lara, Jake/Sherry, Claire/Badassness Fandom: Tomb Raider/Resident Evil Chapters: 1/4 Summary: A TR/RE crossover because I can. Read on ao3

Excerpt:

Claire softens, smiling before leaning forward to place a kiss to her forehead. Sam looks away for a moment. It reminds her too much of what her mother used to do for her on bad days. The older woman taps the jacket draped around Sherry’s arm and smiles.

“Put it on, it’s lucky. You remember that, right?”

Sherry nods, and Claire smiles again squeezing her shoulder before disappearing with Hisao to an office like promised.

Sam takes note of the Jacket as Sherry puts it on. It’s well worn, faded, but not beyond recognition. It’s simply old. Sam can understand the sentiment.

Lara’s hiding away in their flat more than likely. Sam doesn’t necessarily mind, but she’s so fucking bored it takes every ounce of her to stay put. To continue to converse and make connections for the sake of her father, who hasn’t been able to look at her properly since-

Sam lets out a breath of air, slumping in her seat at a random table. She slowly sips on her drink and wishes she didn’t have this dumb, tight, black dress on. She’s already discarded her heels. It’s so goddamn uncomfortable to breathe, but she’s nothing if not a dutiful daughter so her father will get off her back despite having not right.

She doesn’t remember if this is a charity event or a publicity stunt but honestly, she doesn’t give a shit anymore. It’s for her father, so why should she care? She knows there are very important, big named people here, that could benefit the company and give money to whatever charity her father randomly chose for the night. As long as someone gets the help they need that’s not rich, right?

Glancing around she sighs. There’s a man from Sony Entertainment across the way, she can recognize a few celebrities, faces from important organizations and high paying businesses. There’s even a man or two from the government, from a division she’s never heard of. It’s suspect but if her dad gets arrested? Oh fucking well.

And then. Then she spots a woman, two actually. A blonde and an auburn-haired older woman. Sam’s head tilts in interest for a moment, she didn’t recognize them before. Odd. The blonde has shorter hair, a pixie cut, but blue eyes. She wears a red dress and smiles at the other woman like a child does to their mother. After the auburn-haired woman says something, the blonde disappears through a couple of doors towards the parking lot, Sam knows.

The woman left shifts uncomfortably for a moment. She’s older, in her late 30’s maybe? She’s wearing darker jeans, black boots, and a silk red shirt. What hangs on her arm is a red leather bikers jacket. That is curious.

Sam continues to sip on her drink, wondering what importance she has when bright blue eyes must feel her watching and turn towards her. Sam chokes on her drink, coughing in surprise. She can’t hear her but she knows the woman chuckles because as Sam regains her breath and looks back towards her the woman is making her way over. She feels slightly uncomfortable, she has when talking to anyone here, but she doesn’t have a chance to get away or find her father to talk to her because the woman stands on the other side of the table.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sounds amused, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sam awkwardly waves her hand as she breathes. She tries to play it off as being fine, but the woman must be able to tell it’s not because she tries not to laugh.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam croaks, finally able to talk properly as she pauses for a second, “I’m good, I’m good I swear.”

The woman chuckles again before gesturing to the chair across from Sam. Sam debates for a moment before she shrugs and nods, the woman takes the seat, placing her jacket beside herself on said table. There’s no purse in sight.

“I really don’t want to talk to anyone here,” The woman admits, “at least. Older ogling men. You seemed like a safer choice.”

Sam snorts, “I won’t hit on you or harass, so I’m a little better.” There’s a pause, and Sam realizes what that implies, “okay. Just don’t tell my dad I said that.”

The woman laughs this time, hearty and entirely amused. Sam feels a little better. See? She can interact sometimes.

“Don’t worry,” the woman shakes her head, “I won’t. Your closeted secret is safe with me.”

“Good.” Sam nods taking a drink, amused herself.

It’s silent for a moment as the woman looks out towards the sea of people around them, looking for someone, in particular, Sam thinks. Sam, however, hates the silence and it’s obvious the woman isn’t going to find whom she wants.

“I’m Sam.” She offers.

“I know,” the woman smiles at her, Sam blinks confused, but she isn't given a further exploration.

Which means, she probably knows. Probably saw it on the news at least. She doesn't point it out or bring it up, much to Sam's relief. It's been two years but she doesn't know if she could take another person asking. She's still healing.

“I'm Claire,” Claire offers her hand, to which Sam shakes.

“I've never met you,” Sam comments gesturing to her father.

“I've never met Hisao,” Claire avoids the word dad, Sam isn't sure if she's relieved, “but I was invited. I'd almost say I don't know why, but it's good publicity for him and my work.”

Oh. There's something interesting. So she's not a guest, friend, she's here for work. What kind of work?

“Really?” Sam inquires, sitting up and pushing her drink aside, “how's that?”

Claire raises a brow for a moment.

“Have you thought about Journalism?” Sam shakes her head but doesn't answer. “I'm Claire Redfield.”

Sam pauses, brows furrowing. Sounds familiar but...not quite enough to shake her brain.

“The only Redfield I know of is Christopher, a founding member of the B.S.A.A.” Sam nods as Claire raises a brow.

“How neat,” Claire means it, “he's a tough guy, isn't he? Tall. Brooding. Doesn't know when to not get himself into trouble.”

There's a suspicion that forms at the back of Sam's mind, something itching and connecting that she ignores for favor of this conversation. She can tell there's fondness there but she doesn't understand the extent of it.

“Anyways,” Claire continues, “I'm here on behalf of TerraSave.”

“Isn't that...a human rights organization?”

Claire brightens up at the mention, leaning forward on the table. She's fully engaged.

“We are,” she nods, “we primarily provide aid during bioterrorism and medical-related tragedies.”

Sam nods.

“So why did dad-”

“A couple of years ago,” Claire frowns, “we reworked ourselves. It came to light our director at the time hadn't been entirely honest, it put a lot of pressure on us. So we did internal investigations and we're better now than before. From what I understand, he did something similar, so by showing solidarity or getting multiple praises and, or, good words from people well known…”

Sam nods in understanding, “he gets positive publicity. Yeah sounds like dearest ole dad.”

Claire nods with a sigh, obviously tired before even interacting with anyone here, but. Alas.

Something connects with Sam, and she blinks in surprise.

“You're Chris Redfield's sister!”

Claire smiles, opening her mouth to speak-

“Director Redfield,” her father greets, sweeping towards them.

Claire stands instantly, smiling like she wasn't just exhausted, and shakes his hand. Her smile is charming and disarms her father instantly. It's rather amusing.

Sam, however, is a little shocked. Director?

“Mr. Nishimura,” Claire greets happily, “it's nice to meet you.”

Hisao looks from Claire to his daughter. In question.

“Sup, dad?” Sam tries.

“Have you-” Claire cuts him off.

“She was wonderful company. She kept me from leaving, you should be proud she's a smart and wonderful girl.” It's so worth it as Hisao blinks, huffing slightly, affronted she'd think he would think anything less.

He does. Often. Sam thinks.

“Of course,” he nods, “where's Sherry? I would like to meet her again, not so much her boyfriend.”

“She went down to make a call,” Claire smiles, “you know. Government agents and all.

They laugh like it's an inside joke and Sam doesn't get it. It's obvious by how they talk Claire wasn't being completely forthcoming. Sam, however, doubts she was lying.

“Yes, it's nice to finally meet you,” he admits, “now. Shall we talk?”

Claire feigns thinking well enough for her dad to sweat momentarily.

“Of course,” she nods before turning back to Sam, “look out for Sherry, please? Blonde, blue eyes, too friendly. Might come in with a brooding and redhead-”

“I'll keep an eye out.”

Claire looks grateful, then she turns, and walks away with Hisao who continues talking almost instantly.

Sam exhales, deflating against her chair. Looking about she finds no one else of interest, no one else that she hasn’t talked to yet.

She spends the next twenty minutes on her phone, texting Lara who continuously tells her to get off the phone so her dad won’t get onto her. That she’s not there to say something, and that. That is something that always bothers her.

Ever since- ever since that goddamn island Lara’s almost treated as though she can’t do anything. No, that’s not fair. Treated her as though she wants to do everything for her. It makes her feel borderline fragile and it’s so frustrating but she doesn’t have the energy to argue about it until it sticks with Lara. So she simply stops replying and puts her phone on silent. Hopefully, Lara will believe she’s listening.

She can see Claire and her father across the floor in a secluded corner. It looks serious because he has this look in his eyes, arms crossed, actually listening, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. She knows it must be serious because she does the same thing. Claire seems to be talking, though, a little annoyed. Sam wonders what they could be talking about.

Something about Claire though...Sam can’t really put a name to it. So she does the only logical thing she can, she reaches into her purse to pull out a tablet and googles Claire Redfield from TerraSave. A headline shows up first.

TERRASAVE, HUMAN RIGHTS OR TERRORIST RIGHTS?

Sam’s face twists in disgust, but she knows well enough to read it. There’s usually at least a speckle of truth. As she does, she finds the article is more geared towards TerraSave with some honest criticism about how quickly they respond to disasters. However, even the writer agrees that this is more due to a conflict between TerraSave, the B.S.A.A., and governments not allowing them on sight instantly despite good relations.

There is, however, a spot in the article about Claire that piques her interest.

Apparently, Claire wasn’t wrong. The old Director of TerraSave had money in his pockets from some very suspicious people, but this revelation was brought about after an incident on a Russian Island and a high ranking member. It doesn’t go into too much detail about it, but it does say that shortly after the old Director was given the boot Claire very reluctantly took the job.

Claire has publicly stated that she’ll keep it until the board finds someone better. TerraSave has thrived under her leadership, but she remains adamant that if someone better suited came along she’d give up the reigns.

Sam goes back and clicks on another article, more suited to older news.

RACCOON CITY: THE TRAGEDY AND THE SURVIVORS.

The most Sam knows, before she reads, is Raccoon City was once a thriving city before it was destroyed. It was destroyed on government order- news which has only come out the past couple of years -and thousands died. She knows vaguely of what actually happened.

TerraSave was formed during the years after the incident and initially helped actual survivors of the incident find their lives and families again. Only a handful of people actually survived.

Claire, at a TerraSave press conference about their rebranding, claimed to be a survivor so she knew how it felt to be a victim.

Sam turns her head as she hears the door open from across the room again. She finds the blonde Claire was with before, coming inside and almost instantly spotting the jacket Claire left. She does her best to smile but Sam can tell it’s half-hearted for unknown reasons. She approaches slowly as Sam sets her tablet back in her bag.

“Is this-”

“Are you Sherry?” Sam asks. Sherry nods, Sam smiles, “Claire’s talking to my dad. She told me to look out for you.”

“Oh! You’re Hisao’s daughter! Samantha!” Sherry lights up as she slides into a seat, grabbing the jacket and placing it on her lap.

Sam blinks.

“You know my dad?” Claire mentioned it to her father but-

“Yeah!” Sherry nods and offers a grin that still doesn’t meet her eyes, “It’s- a little complicated but I saved his life.”

Sam blinks in shock, “How?”

Sherry laughs, “That, unfortunately, is classified. It pertains to an assignment I was on. I work for the D.S.O.”

Sam blinks again in confusion. The what?

As Sherry opens her mouth to speak, her phone rings. Sherry sighs answers it almost immediately. Sam can’t tell what’s being said but she can tell it’s confusing because Sherry covers an ear and leans forward as it might help.

“What? Jake, slow down- you’re going to have to I can’t understand you. Are you okay? Where are you?” There’s a long pause, “Okay. There’s a group of FBI agents here I’ll- wait. What? No. Okay. I’ll grab Claire. No! Don’t try to- ugh! Jake!”

Sherry’s out of her seat in an instant, moving as quickly as she can to Claire and Sam’s father. Sam almost instantly follows her out of curiosity.

“What’s-”

“I- I just need to get to Claire. It’s important.”

Sam believes her, so Sam does what she does best. She pulls Sherry behind her and bulldozes her way straight through the crowd not relinquishing her hold on Sherry’s wrist. Sherry mutters a thank you but doesn’t say much more until they’re where they want to be.

Claire turns, confused and concerned, her eyes settling on the younger woman instantly. Hisao, however, looks offended and confused. But before he can say anything Sherry talks first.

“It’s Jake,” Claire’s face softens, “he says- h-he was following someone on his way out. They were suspicious. He said they have a bomb and a weird looking canister.”

Claire looks towards the FBI sitting across the room, gazing at everyone else. Sherry places a hand on her wrist to stop her.

“He said they were wearing uniforms,” her head jerks towards the agents, “he was going to try to take them out too.”

“What are they doing here?” Hisao finally speaks up, meaning the agents, “I didn’t invite them. There’s no investigation.”

“I’m not sure,” Claire looks around the small crowd of people around her, “but I know one thing. Tonight’s going to get ugly, and we have people to protect.” Her head turns to Hisao, “do you have a private office we can all talk in? Away from the crowd?”

“Uh- I yes.” He nods, frowning, nervous.

“Alright. I need to contact my brother or Director Valentine,” He swallows but nods, Claire turns to Sherry, “see if you can get Jake back on the line and tell him not to do anything rash. Stay here with Sam, both of you keep an eye out on the crowd and if you can’t get back to Jake send me a picture of anyone suspicious I can send it to Chris. Maybe we’ll get lucky.

Sherry looks concerned, huffing lightly and just staring at the older woman.

“Put it on, it’s lucky. You remember that, right?”

Sherry nods, and Claire smiles again squeezing her shoulder before disappearing with Hisao to an office like promised.

Sam takes note of the Jacket as Sherry puts it on. It’s well worn, faded, but not beyond recognition. It’s simply old. Sam can understand the sentiment.

“Jake? Are you still there?” Sherry calls into the phone before sighing and looks at Sam.

“No luck?” Sherry shakes her head, “try one last time. If he doesn’t answer we’ll do what Claire wanted. By the way, can I ask what’s probably happening? She said to call her brother, B.S.A.A. right?”

Sherry freezes for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah. From what Jake described it sounds like a bioterrorist attack,” Sam blinks, “the sad thing is. I don’t know how or when they’ll attack, so without Jake being my eyes I can’t do anything until it happens. Authorities won’t get here quick enough either.”

“Have you been in a few attacks, yourself?”

“Something like that.” Sherry gives a smile that makes Sam’s stomach churn.

Tonight is going to be a long night, isn’t it?

#lyss fics #tomb raider #s.s. endurance #resident evil #sherry x jake #claire redfield #crossover fic #because i can

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your five Tips For Choosing this Right Chiropractor

We've almost all also been there before: endeavoring to pick between a list connected with potential corporations or maybe pros with almost no of chemical to go on. Most of the time we rely on on the internet evaluations, glances from web pages, and if we will be lucky we may realize someone that has recently been to that business already together with can explain to you what for you to expect. Going to some sort of chiropractic doctor specialist is an important decision, even more so because numerous people do not find out very much about chiropractic in order to start with. Just what little they do know might actually be wrong. Some consider doctors of chiropractic quite poorly and can be skeptical of the job. Some are available to viewing a chiropractic doctor but they have virtually no buddies or loved ones for you to steer them to the ideal person, and have virtually no experience with chiropractic that would certainly make an Net seek easier. It helps once you know the "language" of a thing because your Yahoo and google search will be a lot more productive when you work with the right vocabulary. Applying broad terms usually can net you just a good list of chiropractic specialists who also perform lot of marketing and that fill up their websites with keyword phrases merely to entice visitors by way of Google. Choosing a chiropractic doctor specialist is in many methods a very private choice. With so many forms of DC's out there that means that you can likely find a single tailored to your requirements. This article will outline how for you to conduct a fantastic search the fact that will show you all of the local chiropractic doctors and let you to definitely tell them apart so that you can the actual best choice. one. Are you going for you to a good chiropractor simply for pain relief, or perhaps with regard to general health? You can easily often separate chiropractors in to 2 groups: holistic chiropractic doctors and mechanistic chiropractors. Most chiropractors know of that distinction, and in simple fact the profession features also been throughout a general state regarding low-level internal issue coupled this fault range considering that it's inception. Several chiropractic doctors know this like a war of "straights versus mixers". The inner issue, which actually has many constructive benefits, has been on-going considering that the start of the particular occupation in 1895. This duality is a strength of the profession: without having the healthy character involving chiropractic we would be actual therapists who also adjust this spine, and without the mechanistic character regarding chiropractic we would lose vision of the very real advantages for you to health that chiropractic care provides millions associated with Americans every yr, and even the real detrimental associated with spinal joint malfunction (subluxation). 2. Do you desire long-term health care or will you prefer to have your criticism treated and after that have got your case shut down? Several chiropractors, with varying degrees of scientific proof to help back this way up, encourage chiropractic as a viable alternative to traditional health-related. These people view chiropractic since a way to create the health of your own nervous system by means of chiropractic spinal adjustments, which then permits the body to perform in a higher level. Chiropractic specialists and people all over the state will attest to improved health with reduced condition and injury whenever they incorporated chiropractic into their very own lifetime. Regular adjustments help men and women and children cope with many methods from contact allergies for you to headaches, and people who want to help stay away from prescription medication often choose chiropractic instead. Really hard technological proof to validate this is certainly difficult to are available by due to purely natural problems in designing some sort of study capable of tests the "chiropractic lifestyle" and even it's affect on general well being, but case series' occur and we've probable all met someone who also will definitely swear up and along that chiropractic is trying to keep them out of often the doctor's office. On the other hand associated with this coin are chiropractic professionals that will work in order to promote proper mutual perform at the injured place and then rehabilitate the joint and supporting gentle cells, after which they will release you from health care. There is the value in this, just because there is some sort of worth in wellness or perhaps upkeep care. Releasing the affected person after their soreness is gone will save the patient funds. The idea will also please often the person's health insurer rapid certainly not that your insurer's pleasure should ever be a good element in making health decisions, nevertheless sadly they carry electricity over your well being in some crucial ways so there is the benefit in not concluding up inside anyone's crosshair with the insurer's business headquarters. Rather then promote carrying on with care, a mechanistic chiropractic practitioner will work to adjust typically the immediate problem only. chiropractors Smyrna may come coming from the weak ankle joint or perhaps sexy, so the chiropractor may possibly very let me tell you focus on a position that isn't painful, so accomplish certainly not suppose the position of your pain could be the cause of your discomfort. A fundamental difference in between healthy in addition to mechanistic chiropractors is definitely that the all natural chiropractic practitioner will treat the sufferer further than the medical constraints a more mechanistic chiropractor would self-impose. This actually connects #1 and #2 together with each other. For case in point, a mechanistic chiropractor could treat low back pain by working to restore a good sacroiliac joint together with then discharge the clientele when the sacroiliac joints returns to normal, pain-free function. A holistic chiropractic practitioner can treat the buyer right up until subluxations (spinal misalignments creating nerve irritation) happen to be fully resolved and then broaden their own attention to include general subluxation fix in the entire back in order to promote general wellness. Both processes have genuine value. Even though imposing limits on treatment method based on the limits of what peer-reviewed analysis can substantiate is critical, holistic chiropractors acknowledge that progress in science takes place by pushing the boundaries of understanding and dealing with individuals in ways the fact that current very best evidence might not completely support. The particular periphery associated with science is where progress is definitely normally made - even though it is also where quackery finds refuge. 3. Are you injured or are a person dysfunctional? In some other phrases, would your pain appear on all of a sudden from the injury or have that set in more slowly due to something you repeatedly do? Abrupt pain typically means an injury occured. Sometimes that is some sort of car car accident, or perhaps a autumn, or perhaps a athletics injuries. These type of accidental injuries might be what a good particular kind of chiropractor centers on or even offers certification and increased lessons in. In cases of these types of types of traumas you'll need a chiropractic specialist who can with confidence treat sprains and traces, who can differentiate diverse types of injury, in addition to who else will realize as soon as a good injury is simply too significant for them and can be also persistent enough for you to see certain recommendations together with refer you to additional providers when necessary. Numerous alternative chiropractors, nevertheless definitely not all, are usually likely for you to viewing the spine inside terms of subluxations just and may as a result miss out on typically the subtle signs of a more intense injury that requires the experience of a good specially-trained chiropractor, an orthopedist or even specialist. Though not really a new company rule, an even more mechanistic chiropractic specialist may be a less dangerous bet when a painful injury is involved. four. Just what professional associations assist typically the chiropractic profession, plus how can easily this aid you find the ideal DC? There are several large countrywide organizations the fact that represent chiropractic doctors: the ACA and the ICA. The particular ACA is the Us Chiropractic Relationship and typically the ICA is the Meeting place Chiropractic Association. The ACA is more mechanistic in addition to the ICA is additional alternative. State associations are usually more assorted, so it is hard to ascertain much about a chiropractor by looking at his or her state connection membership unless you look into the political or maybe philosophical leanings of that corporation - a lot of work with finding a chiropractor. To make factors simple, know that many ICA chiropractors actually oppose often the ACA, and vice versa, to help you contacts more coming from their a regular membership (or non-membership) in national organizations than you can from all other issues you might find on the website or perhaps online goods for a chiropractic specialist. It's important to certainly not read a lot of into this particular bit of details, although, and of course to help consider that most people are usually multi-dimensional and could certainly not fit into the dichotomy I am describing. Still, while part of a bigger collection of information to create a judgement, this can easily be helpful to look at. 5. Should you think about their websites, reviews, together with testimonies? And how significant are individual referrals? Anyone may possibly determine soon sufficient that many chiropractors apply one of a handful associated with companies to help make their sites. This implies that if you get to 10 different chiropractor's websites you could possibly see typically the same website again and again having just a different DC's name on it. This kind of means this article is imitative and you in all likelihood are unable to learn much concerning the chiropractic practitioner from their website. That reduces the value connected with the web site. Chiropractors will be better off simply by ditching the spinning 3D spines and instead positioning actual content on his or her sites. These sites are filled with content but little or no, if any, of the info on the site is definitely unique to that chiropractor. Even articles with bylines that include that chiropractor's brand are probably not really articles written by simply the fact that genuine chiropractor. Suspect rational laziness and chicanery as soon as any kind of professional puts their name and even credentials on an article he or she as well as she did not author. While it is a good common training, that really does not mean that could be the right way to promote yourself. On-line reviews, this kind of as Yelp! and Google!, are great. Often , though, businesses game the system by simply making fake reviews. Are the reviews from often the identical approximate time? With regard to example, will be ten opinions all by March spring 2012? If so, that is definitely suspect. If the reviews look legitimate they may well give you some understanding into the particular kind of DC, but in the event they are dubious next you should remember the old adage "buyer beware". Very often a bad examine (that is legitimate) will certainly be implemented with several illegitimate fine reviews throughout order to drown out your bad one. Getting after illegitimate reviews you may really be able to get hold of some sort of wide range of good facts from looking at reviews, thus don't hesitate to make use of a search engine to seek for "jones friends and family chiropractic reviews" and see just what comes up. Testimonials ought to be appeared from as marketing, nevertheless they most likely are true stories through real patients. The chiropractic specialist is selecting what meaning you want to hear. If they choose your five people who talk about the chiropractic specialist curing their very own back pain, then that chiropractic specialist wants you to see them as a professional in back pain. In the event they talk about young children and allergies, that will be what they want you to realize they specialise in. Inside this way, testimonials enables you to get a look with the chiropractor. Particular recommendations are the best resource of details since the idea is typically unfiltered and even direct. Ask a good friend or family fellow member and you will definitely get an unbiased thoughts and opinions. The perfect chiropractors (and the best lawyers, realtors, in addition to even bakers) all of get most of their new business because they treated the particular customers they previously have very well. People are rapid to complain about inadequate service, while someone provides a a valuable thing to say about how they have been addressed then you ought to recognize this specific as worthy of your focus. Believe of it like this particular: that person experimented with a new chiropractor so you don't currently have to. A new personal affiliate from an individual you faith is very easily the the majority of valuable info you will certainly come around.

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