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apiratewhopines · 3 years

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Thanks to @teamhook for giving me all the stubbly men

In the Offing

Chapter 17 — Hat Trick

Summary: In which our heroine believes in magic

Chapter 17 on AO3

“When you move

I can recall something that’s gone from me

When you move

Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free”

-Movement, Hozier

It had been a rainy couple of days since her trip out to the cabin with Graham. They had originally planned to meet up again and scan the area to see if they could find the Blanchard remains but the weather had prevented any chance of that. Instead, they had traded texts that included her thanking him for going on record with the paper to say she was no longer a suspect in the shooting. She had noticed a definite warming toward her by the citizens after his comments were splashed across the front page.

Of course it being Storybrooke, rumors had already begun to fly about who would take her place on the most wanted list. She avoided all requests for interviews and tried to focus on the task of finding the responsible party, encouraged every day by the positive news she received from August’s medical team.

Graham wasn’t the only one she had been texting with. As the date of the wedding drew closer, she started receiving messages from Elsa and her sister Anna, who happened to be a ball of chaotic energy that would put a toddler to shame. They were constantly inviting her over to help with this or that stage of the planning but she thought maybe it was really to make sure she didn’t disappear before the ceremony.

It seemed like the only person she hadn’t talked with was the one person to whom she actually had something to say. However, fulfilling his duties as best man had forced Killian into a last minute trip to Boston with Liam to pick up tuxedos and flowers arrangements. She had stopped by the cottage a couple of times to try to catch him, feeling that what she had to say would be better in person than by phone, but she never managed to connect.

So it was that Saturday evening under a clear twilight sky, she pulled up to the cottage. Nervously she ran her hands down her pale pink dress to smooth it as she tried not to think about the fact that she hadn’t spoken with Killian since she hung up on him several days ago. The front yard, which stretched down in a gentle rolling hill to a bluff that provided a beautiful ocean view, was transformed. There were a couple of large, white tents set up to accommodate the ceremony and the reception. Due to the heavy rain, someone had the forethought to have planking laid down in a walkway to the tents, which had also been raised on platforms and contained a beautiful hardwood floor to provide some protection from the wet ground.

As Liam had predicted, it appeared as though the entire town did show up. Waving at several people who caught her eye, she started to make her way over to Mary Margaret and David. Taking in the way their gazes never wavered from each other, she guessed that their wedding day wouldn’t be too far behind. Before she could reach them, Anna came flying over to her nearly vibrating with excitement. “Where are you going? I saved you a seat in the front row next to Kristoff.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself by sitting in a row normally reserved for family. Plus, if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure she could take being in close proximity to Killian while he was sporting a tux. The man oozed sexual magnetism in jeans so one could only imagine the allure of him in formalwear. She didn’t need a repeat of the kitchen debacle from a couple of weeks ago while the whole town was watching.

“Emma,” Anna whined with a pouty expression. “Do you see how empty the family section is? It’s embarrassing. Not to mention that Kristoff might fall asleep if you aren’t there to nudge him from time to time.”

“Fine.” She gave in easily when she sensed eyes drifting their way in curiosity. Trying to take her mind off the fact she felt like an animal in a zoo, she smiled at the other woman and said, “You look great.”

As Emma took her seat, Anna twirled in a circle and squealed, “I do, don’t I? This has always been a good color on me. I’m so glad we talked Elsa out of the all that ice blue. I mean, it’s a summer wedding. We need bold colors and lots of skin.”

“You will hear no arguments from me, babe,” Kristoff joked with a wink. As she was finding to be the case with the young couple, once they were honed in on each other she could do as she pleased because they were oblivious. Trapped by the puppy love playing out in front of her, she used the opportunity to study the lovely white roses and low lighting that showcased the tent to its best advantage. She couldn’t help but wonder how they had pulled off such an elaborate event with only days to plan.

Any thoughts she had about price tags and logistics were immediately frozen when she saw Liam and Killian step onto the stage about twenty feet in front of her. The Brothers Jones looked quite dapper and refined in their black tuxedos. Liam was calm and collected as always except for the faint hint of red across his cheeks, not even having one arm in a sling could diminish the happiness that radiated off him. Killian looked like a fantasy wrapped in a dream and dipped in chocolate.

Unfortunately, as she was feasting on him with her eyes he must have become aware of her idolizing stare. His penetrating blue gaze met hers full on for the first time in almost a week. Her heart beat out a painful thump at the emotion that flooded her but she couldn’t look away. He was perfect, from the top of his rumpled hair to the bottom of his precisely polished dress shoes. And she was an idiot.

“Geez, girl. Am I going to have to get you two a room so you don’t burn down the tent?”Startled out of her staring contest by Anna’s teasing, she looked over to see her companions watching her with matching grins. “Elsa mentioned there was something going on but she didn’t warn me that it was combustible.”

“Cute,” Emma said in tone that warned against further commentary. “Speaking of Elsa, shouldn’t you be helping your sister get ready?”

“Oh crap! I was supposed to be grabbing her a glass of water. See you guys later!”

For the next several minutes, Emma did her best to keep her gaze from wandering back to the stage even as she felt Killian’s eyes burning a hole through her. Kristoff was helpful in that regard because he was as much of a talker as his girlfriend, although in comparison he was still the shrinking violet in their relationship. The hum of conversations increased as the tent filled until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. As everyone stood to see the bride enter, she snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye and smiled shyly when she saw that Killian was staring back at her.

To no one’s surprise, Elsa made a beautiful bride. Her white blonde hair was styled in a complicated braid that looked soft and elegant. Her slender form was hugged by a white lace gown that looked fit for a queen. It was her serene expression that truly made her a beauty though. She had the look of a woman who couldn’t wait to start her future with the man waiting for her at the other end of the aisle.

Just like that, Emma felt tears forming. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. There were several sniffles and weepy smiles in the tent as the pair shared their vows and promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives. Liam’s deep voice never faltered and when the minister pronounced them man and wife, he didn’t hesitate to kiss Elsa soundly in front of God and everyone. And for rather longer than strictly necessary.

Laughter ringing out at the groom’s enthusiasm, the crowd began clapping as the newly married couple led the way to the reception. They were followed by the best man and maid of honor, whose heads were bent together as if they were plotting to overthrow the government. Knowing the two of them, Emma couldn’t completely rule out the possibility.

Kristoff offered her his arm to guide her into the other tent but she waved him on. She needed some time to collect herself so she continued to observe from the fringe of the crowd. The first dance was a slow romantic matter replete with loving glances and sighs. The cutting of the cake was a dignified event regardless of the taunting of some of the more rowdy members of the audience. As the band struck up a new song, couples started making their way to the dance floor. She was pleased to see Mary Margaret and David were one of the first to go, smiling at each other with the kind of fondness that would never fade.

Trying to calm her racing heart, she knew she had put off her conversation long enough. As she stepped out of the shadows, she heard a familiar voice ask, “May I have this dance, Emma?”

Shocked out of her anxiousness, she turned to find Graham standing behind her with his hand extended. He looked striking in his suit, she had to admit. Not fantasy dream chocolate level, of course, but not hard on the eyes. Putting her hand in his, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. “I’m surprised to see you here, Sheriff. Didn’t you used to date the bride?”

Cringing a bit and screwing up his face, he looked at her through one eye. “There’s that adorable directness. It was one date, a rather hopeless affair I’m afraid.”

“Oh well, there are other fish in the sea,” she murmured encouragingly, a little concerned at the longing she saw in his stare when he looked at her. He shuffled her around the edge of the dance floor, his eyes searching hers for something.

“There is one fish that I have an interest in,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I might be a little too late to catch her.”

With regret for the hurt her next words would cause him because somewhere along the way she had come to really like him, she confirmed, “Yes, I think you might be.”

Nodding with understanding, he shifted his glance to the front of the tent where the wedding party was currently enjoying dinner. With a rueful smile, he commented, “I’m guessing by the daggers that Killian is currently shooting my way that I have been bested by another Jones.”

Touching his cheek gently to bring his attention back to her, she teased, “Third time is the charm, my friend. To my knowledge, there aren’t any other brothers to contend with. Go forth with confidence and find yourself a lady worthy of you.”

Graham smiled down at her. The song ended but he held her an extra second, squeezing her waist affectionately before stepping back. Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and swept a soft kiss near her wrist while looking at her with eyes full of laughter. “Let’s see if that brings your erstwhile suitor running.”

Shaking her head at him, she grinned at his back as he disappeared into the crowd. She started toward an empty chair a couple of tables away when she felt someone approach from behind. She knew without turning that it was Killian. The air around her electrified when he got near.

“Swan, where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to sit down and enjoy dinner, Dr. Jones. What brings you by?”

“I want to dance with you,” he stated, his gaze roaming over her like a caress. Holding out his hand, he continued, “You have the rest of your life to avoid me, love. Where’s the harm in one dance with a partner who actually knows what he’s doing?”

He really had no idea of the hold he had over her. He was still under the impression she planned to walk away. Yet there he was, reaching out to her as if her touch wouldn’t leave bruises. He may be the bravest man she ever met.

“I think I’m willing to risk it,” she whispered huskily as she eased into his arms. It was like coming home.

—

The night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. Once Killian had her in his arms, he seemed loath to let her go, to the point of glowering at any man who approached. He did allow Liam a dance, and David and Kristoff grudgingly, but he always returned to her side as the final notes of the song played and pulled her into his arms again.

“I thought I agreed to one dance,” she teased, bracing herself one-handed on his shoulder as she tugged off her right shoe and massaged her foot. It was after midnight and the crowd had started to thin now that Liam and Elsa had run through a minefield of bubbles to the limousine that waited to take them to New York City for a mini-honeymoon. “I’m not sure my feet are going to recover.”

“Darling, if you can run down skips in stilettos a couple of dances with your many admirers shouldn’t be a problem,” he pointed out, dragging her out to the dance floor again. Willing to pay any price to continue to be this close to him, she plucked off her other shoe and tossed it gently under a nearby table. He abandoned his normal poise, wrapping his arms around her back and settling her against him in what amounted to little more than a hug. The world faded away as she rested her cheek against his chest.

The slow, romantic song continued to play in the background and he hummed the words as he swayed them gently in time to the music. She felt a tingle start at the base of her spine and work its way through her entire body. She didn’t even bother moving apart to say goodbye to Mary Margaret or Anna when they passed by to let them know they were leaving. When the band started to pack up and the caterers were tearing down tables, she observed quietly against his collar, “I think I ate too much cake.”

“You speak of the impossible,” he murmured into her hair.

“Killian,” she said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, love?”

“Will you take me home?”

Tightening his grip a bit, he answered, “Of course, Swan, but I let Kristoff and Anna borrow my truck so we’ll have to take your car. Where are your keys?”

“No,” she replied with a smile up at him. “To the cottage.”

Eyes widening in understanding, he asked, “Are you sure? There will be no coming back from this. No more running away, no more secrets. There’ll be no getting rid of me.” He waited patiently, his face inches from hers. She thought she detected the hint of a smile forming.

“I’m ready if you are,” she promised as she went up on tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a predatory grin, he deepened the kiss and before she knew what he was about, she was upended over his shoulder with her eyes having a very nice view of his lower back and beyond. “Let’s sail away, love.”

Shrieking over his laughter, she asked, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I can’t have you trudging through the mud and muck in your bare feet, Swan,” he explained with a fond pat on her bottom. She felt him glide through the tent and buried her face in her hands when she heard him say good night to several of the staff as they passed by.

“And you couldn’t carry me like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Too caught up in muttering promises of revenge, she didn’t realize they were at the porch until he gently lowered her to the floor. “There you are, my lady. Safe passage to the front door.”

They were eye level with each other since he was standing on the stair below her. The blue gleam of his gaze was unearthly. His mouth was curved in a playful smile but she could tell he was nervous. She thought he was probably afraid she would run again and realized that he stopped there for a reason, as if he wanted her to commit to this and move inside on her own two feet. Taking his face in her hands, she stared at him and hoped he could see everything she was feeling. “I’m sorry. For a lot of things, really. Most of all, I’m sorry if I made you doubt me, doubt this. I’ve wanted you since before we even met.”

“I never doubted you, Swan. Not for a moment. But you are an impossible woman sometimes,” he whispered, twisting his face to press his lips to her palm.

Stepping away from him, she reached out and let her hand trail slowly down his chest. With a saucy smile, she opened the door and backed into the living room. To her surprise, he didn’t trip over himself trying to get to her, rather he followed her inside and braced against the closed door, seemingly content to drink in the sight of her.

“I’ve dreamed of you every night since you left,” he admitted, hunger in his voice. “There were times I nearly got in my truck and drove to the loft.”

At this, he moved closer. His eyes never wavered from hers. She felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. He was the only person who could do this to her with nothing more than a look. He was standing so close she could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the champagne on his breath but he didn’t touch her. Instead, he leaned in and murmured, “Tell me, love, would you have let me in?”

When she did nothing but shiver, he continued, “If I had gotten down on my knees and begged, would you have opened your door?”

His lips skimmed softly over her cheeks, then forehead, then her chin. Fleeting caresses that felt like gossamer against her heated skin. “If I had promised to be your devoted subject and do your bidding always, would you have allowed me to share your bed?”

“Need I remind you what happened the last time you took your time,” she teased, her head light with desire. She had never felt like this before, this swirling, chaotic emotion that caused her to tremble. “Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Seal the deal,” she joked weakly, biting her bottom lip as she fought against the force of the passion that rocked her.

“You do have a way with words,” he teased. “I’m afraid the deal was sealed the minute we laid eyes on each other. Perhaps even before then. Fate hasn’t always been kind to me, love, but I’ll pay whatever price is needed a thousand times over to ensure that for the rest of our lives you continue to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”

With a whimper, she gave in to temptation and closed the distance between them. The magic he weaved with his honeyed tone and bewitching words was nothing compared to how it felt when he reached down to pick her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss, he carried her to the bedroom where he proceeded to show her how much he meant every single thing he said.

—

They didn’t leave the cottage for two days and she was certain there was not a surface that wasn’t put to good use during that time. It was as if the outside world no longer existed and Emma was happily ensconced in some odd alternative universe where she was content and loved.

Eventually she emerged long enough to let Mary Margaret know she was still alive, to chat with Henry, to check in on August, and to cancel search plans with Graham. She knew sooner or later she would have to go back to the loft to collect her things if nothing else. Luckily, her slovenly ways and hasty exit from the cottage after their fight had proved useful in one regard. She had left enough of her belongings behind that she wasn’t walking around in her wedding outfit the whole time. It had done strange things to her heart to realize that he had collected all the clothes she left after their argument and neatly folded them, placing them in the top drawer of his bureau.

She noticed other signs of him making room for her in his life and, beyond that, making her feel welcome. Her preferred coffee cup was always clean and ready for her each morning. He had stocked her favorite shampoo in the shower, although how he knew it was her favorite when she never mentioned it she was still trying to figure out. He had added a couple of books to his shelves for her after a late night conversation about classics she had never had the chance to read.

Even when she had left, even when she had pushed him away, he hadn’t retreated. Not entirely. He had merely given her space to figure out what he had probably know all along...that they were good together and that needing someone wasn’t something to be feared.

So it was with some chagrin that she awoke Tuesday morning to find the bed empty. The quiet of the cottage was like a slap in the face after several blissful days of being adored. Even knowing he had to drop Anna and Kristoff off at the airport before meeting a client that morning at the marina, she was still surprised at how lonely it was. She, the woman who prided herself on her independence and self-reliance, was pining for a man after a mere five hours apart.

The wizardry of Killian Jones was limitless.

Looking over at the clock, she realized that yearning was all well and good but breakfast would be better. Taking her time to get showered and dressed, she walked out to the kitchen island to find a vase full of yellow flowers, a package of strawberry poptarts, and a note from her—whatever Killian was to her now—inviting her to join him at the marina when she woke up.

Grabbing a cup of cold coffee to go and the breakfast he left her, she ventured outside for the first time in days to find the sun shining brightly and the temperature pleasantly warm. She hastily ate her breakfast one-handed while driving to the marina with the windows rolled down. There was absolutely no traffic on the road and she pulled into the parking lot convinced that she was the only living soul in the area. Locking her car, she made her way to the last dock where the pirate ship was moored passing only one person on the way, a strikingly familiar redhead that caused her to do a double take.

Staring after the woman, she heard Killian shout. “Swan! I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.”

Dragging her eyes away from the retreating figure, she faced the man who was responsible for the increasingly frequent smile to be found on her lips. “Never, Dr. Jones.” Climbing aboard, she gave him a quick kiss that he seemed to take as a challenge to extend. “Was that—“

“Ariel?” Killian continued to pepper her face with sweet kisses as if supremely unconcerned that there was a Hollywood starlet wandering around the docks. “Yes, she was the client I was meeting with this morning. The studio sent her to be briefed on pirate lore. I had intended to introduce you but my little Sleeping Beauty couldn’t be bothered to roll out of bed at a decent hour.”

Snickering because they both knew why she needed the extra sleep, she allowed him to pull her into the Captain’s Quarters and promptly make her forget her own name.

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astoriii · 5 years

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Human “Glitch” / Failed Cloning AU Prompt

Fandoms: Detective Conan | Case Closed, Magic Kaito

Pairings: Kudō Shinichi | Edogawa Conan x Kuroba Kaito | Kaitō Kid (kind of... keep reading. You’ll see what I mean.) // could be Gen with no pairings tho

Warnings: Major Character Death. Angst. Abuse of pseudo-science.

Ohoho~

This is going to be a doozy.

So... I apparently came up with this idea July 26, 2017 at 6:40 pm according to my Notes app. I have a vivid memory of this. Lol. Not that any of that is important, but I just wanted you all to know how long this idea has been taunting me. I just wanna delete it.

Anywho, I was going to write a little preview of this au for my story dump on ao3, but alas!! I’m too lazy and uncreative to do that. Okay. I digress. You’re probably only here for the prompt thing so let’s go!!!

This story starts out normally. Kudō Shinichi is a famous high school detective and the arrogant mother fluffer we know and love. Ran is his beloved childhood sweetheart and all that shebang.

The change is that the B.O. is working on a method to clone people in addition to the APTX 4869. Why? I have no idea. But... basically, when the cloning process is complete, the B.O. can “rewire” the brain and by doing so, they can essentially turn the clone into a different person.

(It’s how they get some of their best agents. They kill and clone some of the most brilliant minds in certain fields and “rewire” their brains to make them loyal to the B.O.)

So. You’re probably wondering: wtf. Lemme continue...

The Tropical Land date happens. The poisoning happens. The difference? Gin and Vodka stay around long enough and Shinichi dies. Like, actually dies. No shrink. He’s not that lucky.

And because of his reputation, Gin decides that it would be a waste to let such a brilliant mind go to waste. They take the body along with them with the intent of cloning Shinichi so that they may turn his clone into an agent.

So, like, the whole cloning thing? The clone grows in stages—basically like 1 week or 1 month = 1 year. Does that make sense? I hope.

But, so, Sherry stumbles upon Shinichi’s body and the clone some time after Shinichi had been fed the APTX. Right now, the clone is at the physical age of 6—so people think that Shinichi has been missing for 6 weeks/6 months.

Do you see where this is going?

Realizing what’s going on, she somehow (don’t ask) speeds up the cloning process. In doing so, she is able to give the clone all of Shinichi’s memories and knowledge and stuff. Sherry does this in some twisted attempt to “right a wrong” because she doesn’t believe he deserved to die for one reason or another.

But!!!

The clone’s physical body... it’s unstable. She realizes this, but she doesn’t know to what extent. Sherry dumps the clone somewhere and buries Shinichi’s body to keep another clone from being made.

What she doesn’t know is, shortly after she dumped the clone, the clone reverts back to the physical age of six as that had been the last stage it had been stable in.

And when the clone awakens... it (I’ll start saying he now) thinks he’s the real Kudō Shinichi.

The B.O. finds out about Sherry’s betrayal. She lies and says that she buried/burned/whatever the clone and the body. With that, she’s locked up and she takes the APTX.

And she shrinks. Sherry gets lucky. And she hates it.

Now shrunken, she goes to the Kudō residence to see if the clone made it. When Agasa finds her, she asks about the clone without mention of how he’s a clone and reveals that she had been part of the organization that had “taken” him.

When Agasa tells her that “Shinichi” had shrunk, she realizes that the clone had been too unstable with her interference—whether she tells Agasa the truth... I have no idea.

But the clone... as Conan, he is unaware of his status as a clone, but he is aware that there is something not quite right with him. I imagine he’s more paranoid and cautious. After all, there’s a huge blank between Shinichi’s last memories and his own memories of waking up. For all he knows, he was captured by the B.O. or something.

And even tho he is a clone of Shinichi, he doesn’t have the same exact feelings as him—he’s kind of his own person because of Sherry’s interference.

...

And that’s it!! That was a whole doozy, wasn’t it?

I remember planning for Conan to find out. And it’s just an angsty mess because he has all of Shinichi’s memories and knowledge—has his face and all that, too—but he knows he isn’t Shinichi. Like, it’s a whole different type of... dysphoria?? Like, his body was that of a teenager. And now it’s a child. Except... that body wasn’t his body. Except it is. But it isn’t.

Do you see his struggle here???

But after learning that he’s a clone, he asks Haibara to find a way to stabilize his body so that he can properly avenge Shinichi.

(It’s the least he can do.)

The APTX antidotes... well, I imagine that it’s different for him and Haibara? Like, he shrank because of his instability, which Haibara is looking to fix somehow. Tho... I imagine there is some APTX copied into his system or something? So APTX antidotes have some effect on him—like a trigger or something. Idk. I think this is, like, the sole reason why I haven’t written anything for this.

And, Ran??? Conan knows that Shinichi loved Ran, but he’s only known her as a sister. The feelings he has for her are Shinichi’s feelings and he refuses to act on those because it doesn’t feel right. Like, he may have Shinichi’s memories and all that, but Conan isn’t her Shinichi.

The KaiShin thing? It’s... more so self-indulgence on my part. Lol. You could basically just disregard that and have no romantic pairings at all. Shrugs. But!!!

Conan just... he likes how he feels more carefree at heists? He enjoys the banter and the thrill and the feeling. He doesn’t have to pretend as much and Kid makes him feel like he’s his own person?? And he loves it?? Like Kid doesn’t expect him to be anything but Tantei-kun. Like, Conan is a clone. Shinichi is the one he was cloned from. But Tantei-kun? He’s just a critic who keeps Kid on his toes. Like, Kid doesn’t expect him to be an ordinary child but he also doesn’t expect him to live up to a now-dead brilliant detective.

Does that even make sense? I have no idea. It’s late and I’m running on five hours of sleep.

But like... hoo boy. Just thinking about all this... Shinichi’s parents learning that Conan is a clone of their dead son. Ran possibly never knowing that her Shinichi is dead. Conan dealing with the fact that every part of him is Shinichi and hating it because he doesn’t feel like Shinichi and he feels that it’s wrong to even pretend. Maybe even Hattori learning that his true rival died.

Anyway. That’s all. Thanks. I’ve been wanting to post this somewhere but it didn’t feel right putting this in my story dump on ao3. Let’s not discuss any weird plot holes or anything because I don’t think I was completely sane when I wrote this two years ago.

#dcmk #dcmk au #kaishin #story prompts #fanfic prompts #angst #i have no idea how to tag

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 3: The Evidence

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Everyone said nothing good would ever come of falling into an online video rabbit hole. Unfortunately for Nadya they were right.

[READ IT ON AO3]

She doesn’t see hide nor hair of Katherine in the days following the Gallery, and can’t help but suspect that’s kind of the point. Adrian doesn’t mention her name, her presence, or the fact that he essentially ditched Nadya at an event full of strangers to conclude whatever business he and Kamilah had with her.

He does make it up to his secretary just as he said. When he picks her up Monday evening there’s a sample box of gourmet cronuts from a news-featured local bakery with a reservation line as long as the one to get a photo on the bridge where King Anton proposed to Princess Caoimhe. Before she can message Adrian what he wants for dinner on Wednesday there’s an email from security downstairs about a food delivery — which just so happens to be from one of the best Brazilian steakhouses in the city. And just when she doesn’t think he could be any more impressive (or desperate for forgiveness) he sends her off Friday near-dawn with front-row tickets for her and Lily to Saturday’s evening performance of On Summit Blackspine.

“No — nope, no freakin’ way.”

With his hands in his pockets Adrian is like a wall of generosity. He simply won’t take it back. “I insist. You two were looking at tickets anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she splutters, acts like she has no idea how to hold two small pieces of paper, “but we were looking at tickets, like, a year from now, and… way way up in the nosebleeds!”

Adrian completely disregards her protests; even when they start to venture into ‘why were you listening to my lunch break phone call’ territory. He doesn’t seem somber — like he’s genuinely repaying some sort of debt — at all. In fact she’s never seen anyone look so excited about something they won’t be partaking in.

He joins her in the elevator ride down but doesn’t have any of his usual things. He’s staying late but won’t hear a word of her offering to keep him company.

Before the revolving door separates them Nadya plucks up her courage and turns on her heel to look Adrian in the eyes. He startles back, but his composure is never more than a hair’s breadth away.

“You know you don’t have to do anything, right?” It’s as sincere as she can make it; any more emotion between them and she might as well be bawling into his tie.

“What do you mean?”

She groans in protest. “Adrian, you know exactly what I mean. All this stuff —” her gesture is open, vague, but he’s a smart guy, “— and whatever you have in mind about making it up to me. You don’t have to do any of it. Please tell me you understand that. I mean it. I need to hear you, like, verbally say it.”

He laughs in that familiar kind way of his; even puts on a squared jaw and teasingly stern frown when she swats his arm.

“I understand, Nadya, I do. But I can’t help it. I left you on your own most of the night, and didn’t even tell you when I was leaving. Just let me do this, please?”

Eventually his kicked-puppy eyes break her resolve, but only just. “Fine. But this is it, Raines. No more apology gifts.”

“Alright, alright! No more. Though returning the Maserati might be an issue…”

Nadya’s heart falls into the pit of her stomach. “The wha —” But Adrian’s awful at hiding his smile, even worse at hiding the shit-eating grin it grows into, and though he could probably dead-lift her without a second thought she hopes the numerous smacks she wails on his arms do some kind of damage.

He waves her off, calls out “Tell me all about it Monday!” and she’s the one left watching him retreat back into the building.

While riding the subway Nadya’s thoughts wander — and not for the first time either — to whether or not other Manhattan secretaries had such eccentric bosses. Doubtful.

There isn’t time the next night to think about Adrian’s oddities — all thanks to Lily. If she spent the whole evening worrying about work and why her boss was so nice it was a guarantee that her roommate would use any physical force necessary to snap her out of it.

“I can’t believe you had all day to catch up and you spent it rewatching AME!”

While they certainly aren’t dressed up to rival those she’d seen at the Gallery, Nadya and Lily are still the best-dressed things to grace the subway in a long time. Nadya had been ready to call a rideshare until Lily so graciously reminded her how expensive drinks and snacks were likely to be at the show — and they already had subway passes.

“The stage show debuted last year,” Nadya argues defensively, “it’s not like they’re gonna edit the script for every new episode that airs.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

They compare notes of knowledge and trade fan-theories on the ride; every time Lily riles herself up over the book plots Nadya has to pat her shoulder and remind her to use her subway voice. It may have been way too much for Adrian to spend on someone who managed his datebook but she couldn’t deny how much she missed hanging out with her best friend.

“Check it out,” Lily whispers in her ear, and Nadya turns her attention away from the seating chart above the door to the sight of Lily’s dress shirt unbuttoned and spread Superman-style; revealing her collector’s edition The Crown and the Flame book-cover tee; a memory from their first Christmas together.

It sends them both into fits of giggles — the attendees around them may be averse to laughter and joy but they certainly were not. The doors open soon after and they take their seats — smack dab in the middle of the front row.

The lights dim, the curtains part, and all the reviews Nadya read about how ‘difficult and underwhelming it was to bring something filmed on-location and with tons of CGI to the stage’ can go shove it because the Five Kingdoms are beautiful.

Lily steals her phone Monday afternoon for a quick text. Nadya doesn’t think much of it — they’ve lived together long enough with little boundary — until she’s about to go down and wait for Adrian on the curb but instead he’s blocking her path in the doorway.

“Uh…?” The confusion doesn’t last long — not when Lily practically assaults Adrian with one of her signature bone-crushing, spine-deforming, lung-shrinking hugs. She praises a litany of gracious thanks so fast she’s out of breath before Nadya can pull her off.

To Adrian’s credit he’s not phased in the slightest — back again with that silly grin. “Well that solves my mystery,” presenting his phone screen to them both, “because when I saw how the text was signed I thought you confused me for someone else.”

When she takes the phone and spots the ‘xoxo’ signed at the bottom of Lily’s request for Adrian to meet her at the door, Nadya��s cheeks burn scarlet.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“I figured.” Though Lily doesn’t seem ashamed in the slightest. “I just wanted to thank him in person. I had the chance, so I took it.”

“I take it that means the show lived up to the hype?” Adrian looks between them eagerly; and even Nadya relents and nods.

“It was amazing.”

“They had a full. sized. dragon puppet. Of course it was amazing!”

They’re running an hour late — Adrian insists it wasn’t any trouble but when Lily’s highlights became ‘recounting the show scene-for-scene’ Nadya had to get them out — but even the CEO’s reassurance falters when the elevator door opens to Nicole standing tersely in front of his office door.

All these months and she still doesn’t understand the dynamic between Nicole and Adrian. He’s her boss, both their boss, yet sometimes it feels like Nicole is the one ordering him around, keeping him on task — a feeling curiously accompanied by her presence in the general vicinity.

Today is no different. Her frown turns into barely-expressed rage as she looks between them. If she held her files any tighter there might be nail-shaped punctures in the paper.

“You’re late.” Nicole gives a terse click of her tongue and strides between them — parts them physically — towards the waiting elevator.

Adrian glances at his watch. “Not by much. It’s not as though Lester is clamoring to see me.”

“A certain degree of professionalism is required when handling… delicate matters such as these.”

While they argue, Nadya starts slowly inching towards her desk. Tries to make as little noise as possible as she lowers her purse down and starts taking out her work. Either it works or she’s suddenly magic because they continue to bicker on as though they’re alone up in his office.

“I don’t know anyone in the world who would call Lester Castellanos delicate, Nicole.”

The elevator door tries to close behind her but her heel wedges in the gap and forces it open. It feels like a metaphor to Nadya.

“You know very well that’s not what I mean.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “Then what do you mean?”

There’s no questioning the spiteful look Nicole flashes behind him. Gaze pinned straight on Nadya with a crinkle in her otherwise perfect mask of stone-cold witch.

“Not here. Downstairs.”

She’s a little more than half surprised that Adrian doesn’t pull the cinematic-cliche ‘anything you need to say, you can say in front of Nadya’ line. But it wasn’t a full surprise — there were just some things she wasn’t privy to yet. The fact that she knew as much as she did with less than a year under her belt was astonishing to say the least.

Instead, Adrian casts half a look over his shoulder. His eyes not quite meeting hers.

“Very well.”

Then they’re both standing in the elevator — Nadya watching it close from the other side.

It’s either a trick of the LEDs or Adrian looks apologetic before the door shuts with a soft ding.

Lunch — the midnight version of it — rolls around and Nadya tries not to seem so obvious in how she sneaks glances at the lift. Hoping, willing it to open. It’s almost maddening. Almost; until she replays the pair’s confrontation for the umpteenth time in her head and catches something she missed before.

Her fingers fly across her keyboard; pb&j abandoned in front of her.

Lester. She knows that name; can still hear it in Adrian’s voice clear as day.

“What have you contributed, Lester?”

The browser isn’t even finished loading her results when the unease settles in. What was once a tightly-wound ball of panic that kept her from even looking in Adrian’s direction had dulled, yes, but somehow that just made things worse. There had been a chunk of time in which she really considered Adrian might be involved with killers; or that he may very well be one himself. His charm wasn’t the only thing that disarmed her — because Adrian’s charm didn’t have the same luster it did when she first started working for him.

Nadya remembers the smile he gave her as he reassured Nadya over her interview jitters. It was something easy, practiced. It was easier to fake something around someone you didn’t know — that’s how she’s lied her way through the confidence to report directly to such an important member of the industry. Now — things changed; well hadn’t they? From daily drives to silly quips hiding behind a chocolate fountain. They’d grown close.

Somehow she hopes that means it’s harder for him to lie to her. It’s certainly harder for her to see him as a murderer. Kamilah Sayeed, on the other hand…

Lester Castellanos looks exactly like a man named Lester. Either his mother was psychic or he decided to grow into a name that oozed lecherous intent. Right off the bat a few clicks here and there on her screen outline his meat-packing company (along with several FDA violations and one unionizing strike three years ago) and how his ‘father’ ran it before he took over after Y2K. Only there aren’t any photos of Mister Castellanos with his father… or without him, actually. Plenty of local news rags have snapshots of him with a pretty (paid) girl on each arm; coming out of a Lacroix spring debut, donating to Senator Vega’s reelection campaign, having some small branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art named after him for his generosity.

Nadya’s so close to giving up — to associating Adrian and Lester as businessmen of the same tycoon-ishness — when a grainy streaming rabbit hole catches her eye. Not that she’d ever admit she was looking so intently but that maroon pantsuit? Hard not to recognize.

Probably doesn’t help that she’s had more than a few dreams about it…

It’s been ages since she’s watched anything that wasn’t taken on some form of camera phone. But the date stamp in the corner and the slight lag between audio and visual definitely mark this as a remnant of the bygone VHS-era. Probably when Lester was inducted in as CEO of his company.

There. She spends what feels like hours pausing, rewinding, dragging the player to a specific spot and having to time her two-fingered assault on the keyboard just so but the victory is sweeter than she could have imagined.

Behind Lester’s flouncy gestures for some speech about bringing ‘old industry’ back to Manhattan — the flicker of maroon. And beside Kamilah’s pixelated waves of dark hair stands a figure two heads taller and with cheekbones definitely made to exist in the time of high-definition photography; distinctive even from a distance.

Adrian’s grainy figure leans down and whispers something in Kamilah’s distorted confidence. Maybe she laughs; maybe she frowns. She doesn’t look away from Lester’s speech.

And in the corner: [03 JULY, 2001]

An uncharacteristic calm falls over her. Maybe she’s done enough freaking out for the day — or over Adrian Raines, for that matter — and she’s numb to new information. She deletes her browser history — doesn’t think it’ll do much good if anyone really wanted to see what she was looking at — and clocks back in. Loses herself in the work. For once in Nadya’s life the mindless, soul-sucking tedium of an office job is a good thing. Doesn’t really need much brain power, makes it so she doesn’t pay attention when the lift door dings and Adrian returns from his meeting with a slump in his shoulders.

That is until he looks over her shoulder.

“You’re already working on the MacCombe spreads?” He sounds surprised.

“I finished all those return calls—here —” she hands him three neon-pink post-its with different names and dates scribbled on them, “— don’t worry about memorizing them; I’ve updated your datebook with the appointments. Though this one, Volenti, is a lunch at some rooftop Italian place, so I’d avoid the morning coffee.”

She expects him to pay it all little mind. After all, this is what he’s paying her for: clerical nonsense, not to be his friend and a pesky detective on the side.

But Adrian’s all about subverting expectations; plucks the note from her fingers and frowns at the time.

“I can’t make it that day. I’m booked up all afternoon.”

Nadya quickly pulls up both his digital datebook and brushes aside an open folder to the desk calendar she has color-coded to the nines. Even Adrian’s eyes widen at the sheer mess of her incoherent organization.

“Uh, no you’re not?” Which isn’t so much questioning her boss as questioning her own appointment-making skills.

“I am. Tell Mrs. Volenti she’ll need to change it to a dinner reservation.”

“Well maybe we can squeeze—”

“Nadya.”

She looks at his face for the first time since he returned. When Adrian realized ‘professional personal space’ wasn’t really her forte — a habit picked up from living in close quarters with Lily, no doubt — he started testing his own waters until it wasn’t uncommon for both of them to just reach over one another without a second thought.

He takes up that personal bubble, now; towers over her in a way that makes Nadya shrink back in her chair slightly.

She’s never heard that sort of tone from him before. Harsh, cold, almost mean. Nadya shivers.

The hard look in Adrian’s eyes softens instantly. His tone stays firm.

“Change it to a dinner reservation. And book me up for office calls that day.” Then, as if their friendship is an afterthought; “Thank you.”

His office door closes behind him absolutely silent — she can just imagine him being as delicate as possible with the creaky old wood.

Nadya takes a few minutes to collect herself in her personal bathroom. She emerges, still counting down from one hundred, and grabs the note with Volenti’s number to reschedule.

“BOOM! HEADSHOT!”

Nadya looks down at her pint of ice cream with a grimace. No matter what the commercials said, they were liars: lactose-free ice cream was a crime against humanity.

“Did you see that? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t replicate that move if I tried.” Lily talks half to herself half to her one-person audience as she studies the controller in her hands. She brings it close and strokes her thumb over the joystick.

“Tell me your secrets… please?”

The controller vibrates — makes Lily scream in response. Then a horde of zombies swarms in on her character on the television screen and she scrambles to return to diligent gamer-mode.

Maybe time passes, or maybe Lily suddenly has the ability to teleport. Both options are equally likely as one minute Nadya successfully tunes out the groaning roar of digital catastrophe and the next Lily’s plucking the barren spoon from dangling awkwardly in her mouth.

“Hello? Ground control to Al Jamil; can you read me, Al Jamil?”

It takes Nadya a moment to blink away a sluggishness she didn’t know she had.

“You say something, Lil’?”

“I mean,” she seriously thinks it over, “nothing more than my usual gaming banter — which is still worthy of an epic quote-book. How was your trip to Planet of the Mush-Brains?”

Crouched in front of Nadya’s armchair, Lily steals a bite of melty ice cream — cringes at the lie that is ‘lactose-free’ maple pecan but forces herself to swallow it.

There’s a quip about the squishy mess that would be planet Mush-Brain on the tip of Nadya’s tongue. Instead she looks down at her half-reflection in her roommate’s smudged glasses and erupts in gooseflesh.

“Can I ask you something weird?”

“Weird on a scale of…?”

“Weird.” Nadya confirms. Lily grins.

“You fuckin’ bet.”

There’s a pause where she breathes in deep, tries to process the words about to come out of her mouth, and she goes for it.

“Do you believe in vampires?”

They’ve lived together long enough now to go through all the theories, discussions, and conversations generally reserved for the butt-crack of dawn or when midnight seems to stretch on forever. They’ve bought matching sleeping bags and sometimes have camping nights in the living room (though Lily is forever banned from buying candles — because sometimes ‘the aesthetic’ just isn’t worth possibly burning down an entire apartment building); laid head-meet-toes for hours and talked about the things that made them who they were; what they dreamed about, their genie wishes, and the things unproven that they still believed in anyway.

Vampires included.

Lily props her chin on Nadya’s knee and blinks slowly. She reminds Nadya of a cat sometimes.

“Sure,” she shrugs, “I guess. Are you talking about that video that went viral about that Norwegian metal band that said they drink each other’s blood before gigs?”

Nadya blanches. Some things should just never be said with a straight face. “No! What?! Who—where do you find these things?”

"The internet.”

“Right — I mean — no. Not Norwegians. Like… actual vampires.”

It’s stupid; ludicrous even. It’s not something she’s even going to go through the process of explaining out loud because some things even Lily might find absolutely bonkers. And she once went on a date with a Flat-Earther.

Maybe her roommate’s actually taking her seriously because she takes a long pause before answering.

“Sure, I guess. Depends on what kind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what lore are we talking? And also, is this a sleeping bag situation?”

Nadya wants to say yes. She wants them to push the coffee table aside and lay down together so she can vent every crazy idea she’s processing — and then some. But the room looks lighter than it did a few minutes ago and when she glances at the stove clock her heart sinks. 06:08 glaring at her in bright ugly red. Lily ‘Freakin’ Superhuman’ Spencer is no stranger to pulling all-nighters before work but Nadya has a feeling if she unloads now it might tempt her roomie to call out to stay by her side.

And while the company would be nice there was one thing she liked just a little bit more: being able to make rent.

“Nah,” she’s not convincing anyone, least of all her best friend, when she waves it off and jostles Lily onto her rear end by standing, “I was just thinking weird things.”

But now Lily’s caught the scent. Leans in sans personal-bubble as Nadya puts the melted ice cream away.

“What kinda weird things? When did you start thinking them? Who made you think weird things?”

“It’s nothing, Lil’.”

“Obviously not.”

“And you’re suddenly Sherlock Holmes…?”

“I talked to my controller, Nadi’. And you didn’t stop me.”

“Well as long as you weren’t tonguing the joystick.”

“Ew,” Lily recoils, “you know I don’t do sticks. Stop changing the subject!”

But it was just enough to get Nadya time to slip out from under the gaze of nerd-glasses scrutiny; she’s already closing her bedroom door. Lily never could resist a lesbian quip.

“Good luck at work!” She calls, and leans against her door with a heavy sigh. Nothing’s stopping Lily from knocking until she answers, or more frighteningly; nothing’s stopping her from breaking into a rendition of the song from Frozen.

But Lily respects her space. She’s just crawled into bed when she hears a call of “See ya!” and the front door slamming shut.

She texts Adrian half an hour later calling in sick. She gets sick time, right? Of course he answers when she’s on the cusp of real sleep.

[TEXT]: Are you alright?? -Adrian

[TEXT]: yeah Lil gave me her cold. sorry. can I do it like this or do I have to call hr? [TEXT]: please don’t say I gotta call nicole

[TEXT]: No this is fine. I’m sure I can survive one day. -Adrian [TEXT]: Actually take a long weekend. See you Monday. Feel better.

It’s more than she asked for so why does something uncomfortable settle in her gut? She stares at the text chain, squints until her eyes begin to blur the words, and then it hits her.

No ‘Sincerely, Adrian.’ Whatever he’s doing this early (which, honestly she’s surprised since everyone has to sleep sometime but not him, apparently) has him occupied enough not to be, well, himself. And there’s a part of Nadya that feels like if she sends him a message asking about it he might very well respond. Her fingers hover over the buttons on screen long enough for her hand to prickle with pins and needles.

She turns off the ringer, tucks the device under her pillow, and forces herself to sleep.

They are grown-ups, thank you very much. They have grown-up jobs and grown-up bills and grown-up credit cards and checking accounts and monthly interest fees. And while most of grown-up life sucked a big one, having jobs that only operated during the business week was a small perk in a sea of ‘wait, I didn’t ask for this.’

Lily doesn’t bring up the ‘V’ word all weekend. They aren’t best friends for nothing — Nadya’s way ahead of her and knows when the questions itch on the tip of her tongue. Doesn’t help that Lily’s magically, totally spontaneously decided to bring out her old copy of ‘Blood Suckers 3: Fast-Forward’ to brush up on her apparently rusty vampire-cyborg slaying abilities.

With a grocery-store pizza crisping in the oven and the tinny sounds of the cybernetically-enhanced undead wailing their deaths throughout the entire apartment things feel… normal. They feel like they used to. Before Adrian, before Raines Corp., before her internet browsing history was shamefully filled with the beginnings of research into the possibility that the creepy spookies might be legit.

There’s only one job that has followed the pair of them into grown-up life: knowing how to take care of each other. They were a bit rusty — but still got the stuff.

Lily’s eyes are glued to the screen, thumbs twitching on the joystick and slamming into buttons because hitting them harder made the little in-game avatar attack faster—obviously. Nadya can’t stop watching in amusement as she scoots, inch by inch, towards the edge of the couch in anticipation for this level’s boss battle.

“Die cyborg scum! For a third and final time!”

Any harder and she might actually break the triangle button. But Nadya doesn’t get time to warn her — not with the sudden shrill screech of the smoke detector.

“The pizza!” She’s up in a flash — yanks the pie way from the heat where it falls lamely on the floor and spews blackened bits all over the tile. The alarm chirps on out of spite.

Nadya waves a dish towel at the collecting smoke — god she really loves Lily to death but the fact that she’s the only one picking herself up to do anything is frustrating to say the least.

“Lil’! Open the windows! Please?!”

It’s enough to pull her roommate out of the distant and horrible year of 5048; then a mad dash to unlatch the fire escape window. Winter forces in like that time Lily thought they could rent out their couch space to gap-year European students. She’s chilly but effective in sucking the smoky air outside. Snowflakes flutter in but vanish on contact with the decades-old carpeting.

Above them; the sudden THUD THUD THU-UD of unfortunately all-too-familiar workboots. Then a shrill voice cuts through the aged plaster holding their building together by a thread.

“What’s that awful noise?! Marty, stop stomping you fucking idiot! I’m tryna watch my show here!”

“It’s those dykes downstairs!” Marty’s delightful holler suddenly grows sharp — echoes from his open window to theirs, “CUT THAT SHIT OUT! You ain’t takin’ us to Hell with you!”

Like a holy sign the detector ceases; angry red blinking slowing down into green, false-alarm peace.

Lily glares at the white plastic in contempt. “Rude neighbors I can live with — but a homophobic smoke detector? Nu-uh. Where’s my bat?”

While Nadya tries to dissuade her from beating them into a replacement fine Marty resumes his best lumberjack impression above them. The hazards of living somewhere with rent security.

The bat may have just been a comic-con prop but there’s nothing comical about the slew of rusty nails sticking out of the business end at odd angles. It takes a solid chunk of time to talk her down, talk her into unleashing her aggression back on Lestat-meets-the-Terminator.

After a bit of sleuthing — and with pizza crust char smeared on her cheek — Nadya holds out the culprit with all the conviction Law and Order could teach: a chunk of the plastic wrapping melted into a gloss on top of a pepperoni.

“I’ll have to call the store in the morning.”

Lily snarls at her game with new vigor. “Why?”

“Because — we caught it. What if there’s a bad batch?”

“I mean, maybe. But you don’t know that.”

“Neither do they unless I say something.”

“So…” Hunger stakes both Lily and her boss battle; ‘PAUSED’ flashing on the screen in bright blocky letters while Lily pushes up her glasses, “no pizza?”

The air hurts her face. Why did she willingly choose to live in a place where the air hurts her face?

There’s definitely an open pizza joint a few blocks over — you don’t have enough money to geomap the entire world and lie about late-night pizza — but not only are people like Nadya one of the reasons food delivery services were invented, she’s just not as familiar with her neighborhood as she once was. At the moment she blames Adrian for that.

“Stupid ritzy lunch deliveries,” she mutters, keeps her lips moving and tries not to lick them and ohp—there it goes, now her lips feel like she’s well on her way to frostbite, “stupid fancy dinner hotels, stupid employee-only rooftop restaurant, stupid DiGeronimo’s plastic-riddled pizzas of death.”

She’s glad there’s no one around to listen to her muttered tirade. Some things a woman just has to complain about alone.

“Why am I the one out here anyway?” she asks no one in particular — the snowflakes picking up speed around her, maybe, “I can’t even eat the darn pizza! — Then again I was totally gonna eat the pizza. Hey, universe, if you’re listening, I was gonna eat the pizza. I was gonna be punished enough. So like… let up on the ice age, will ya?”

The universe doesn’t let up on the ice age. If anything it feels like the snow drift is picking up speed. Flakes turn to fat droplets on her glasses that distort the world around her. Cupping her hands over her mouth does no good — can’t exactly see with fog over her lenses.

Huddled under the drooping awning of a closed bodega, her shaking hands fumble around for her phone and the map. “Nooo… how did I end up on the wrong side of the friggin’ park?!”

Lily will wait for her cheesy delight, she decides — kicks the sticky snow from her boots and trudges across the street towards the park entrance, she will wait until I’ve regained feeling in all ten fingers and all ten toes and not a minute before.

It’s all very Every Crime Serial Ever. Literally, Nadya swears she’s seen at least a dozen winter-themed episodes start with a young woman taking a shortcut in a dark park. But there’s more on the line than empty stomachs and another night of instant ramen now. Now; it’s a point of pride. It’s about making it out into the storm and returning, victorious, from the highest peak with tales of wonder and mystery.

So she keeps to the snowed-over pathways even when the cold wet starts to seep into her thick fuzzy socks — keeps under the glow of lamp posts the city abandoned a long time ago where she can find them. Distracts herself with thoughts of delicious melty cheese and sneaking a few mushrooms onto Lily’s side before she gets back to the apartment — and wonders if the delivery driver might take pity on her poor frozen soul and drive her back to her block rather than making her return with a pizza-sicle.

That’s the problem with expecting something bad to happen, though. When you expect it you do everything in your power to not think about it — to not run around freaking out over every fallen leaf and garbage-diving raccoon. There’s definitely a difference between using smart caution and just straight up stamping down every bad feeling rolling around in your gut.

Nadya, unfortunately, is prone to the latter. Years of jeers and teasing and being called irrational will do their damage eventually — and for her they come together as the knowledge that she shouldn’t be doing what she’s doing but not enough wisdom to turn back.

There’s a loud crash. Nadya screams loud enough to warm up her insides. Her keys held tightly between each knuckle in self-defense on one hand and phone ready to emergency dial with the other. Fear creeps in at the edges of her vision; makes the darkness outside the safety of the lamp’s light appear alive, undulating, thriving off her terror.

In the dark void between one lamppost and the next a hollow metal creaking grows closer—closer—closer—and she’ll never tell a living soul (that’s a lie, she’ll probably tell Lily when she stops having nightmares over this mess) but she might have accidentally unclenched her legs a little too quickly as an upended garbage can rolls a path through the fresh snow with the contents painting a trail behind.

I’m a good citizen, dang it, but I wanna keep my fingers. Because what horror movie starts with the victim being ripped to shreds while she’s saving the environment during a polar vortex?

The distant Lily-adjacent voice in the back of her head quips something like “holiday horror movies, duh!” but it’s too quiet — too soft over the sudden primal roar that carries on every gust of winter wind.

She’s cold. She’s afraid. There’s the strangest taste of almonds on the back of her tongue?

Then everything is warm and dark. She briefly considers crawling out of bed to have Lily remind her to pack a lunch in the morning.

Instead she welcomes sleep.

#playchoices #bloodbound #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #lily spencer #mc: nadya al jamil #nicole anderson #; my fics #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter

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tarithenurse · 5 years

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All is fair in Love & War - 15

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Plotting, pining, maybe don’t imagine things too well if you’re afraid of heights. Some people being ass-holes. Some death and gore. A tad of panic (though no disco, sorry). Also! There will be some dialog with bracket within the citation – this is to signify it’s spoken in a different language. A/N: I’ve taken the liberty of tagging people who seem to follow, but if you do/don’t want a tag pls let me know. It seems there might be some issues with tagging which I couldn’t fix via app. Checking it now on laptop, it seems fine, but let me know if there are still problems.

15. Impatient

There is only one way in and out of king Gorm’s bed chamber. Officially. The door is guarded constantly by the only competent soldiers in the entire nation. This may have something to do with the comfort of their lives as well as that of their families because no other commoners, not even the servants, live as luxuriously or eat such fine meals. True, it is still grubby compared to anyone of noble blood, but if someone is granted the position as royal bodyguard, then his or her daily struggle is over. This of course results in two things. One is the mixed envy and disdain for whomever holds such a job. The other is your need to find a way past the guards or an altogether different way into the chambers.

That is why you find yourself dangling halfway out of a narrow window, trying to get the tri-hook securely attached to the balcony above. A clank sounds through the clammy night air, indicating that the thing at least has struck something, and as it and the rope does not begin a rapid descend towards you then you dare to breathe out a sigh of relief (it is the seventh attempt or more). Carefully, you pull the rope towards you until suddenly it stops. Carefully first. It seems to hold a light strain, so you put more of your weight behind it. Then more, and more, and eventually you are hanging free from the window.

A hissing voice come from within. “You test it, now you get back here!” Röskva reaches out to you, swinging you gently back into safety. “This no way for madama to behave!”

The young girl is endearing in her fury and you cannot help laughing a bit. “Well, then I should be fine doing it, shouldn’t I?”

“Shush! You want to be discovered?” Large, dark eyes have you pinned to the floor before she moves to look out of the window. Next moment she is back with a frown. “Now how you go get it back?”

“Relax, dear, that balcony is easily accessible from the corridor above which leads to the music room. No one would blame me for walking there.”

The girl is not quite convinced. “But at this hour?”

You manage to calm her down, but the Vanar is only satisfied once you are safely back in the guest chambers (rope and hook in hand).

What matters more. however, is that the little window with the balcony above is near identical to the layout by the king’s private sleeping quarters, so presuming you still know how to climb a rope there is now very little between you and a visit to Gorm. But what about the queen? At least the two have no children to inherit the throne, but the lady strikes you as the kind of wife that could become vengeful even without any sign of foul play. But I’m only going to have a look around.

Looking up from the array of lockpicks and other tools which you have been oiling, your eyes wander to the northern horizon. Somewhere out there is the one person who has managed to open your eyes and see the world for what it is. It was never you intention to let Loki have your heart, taking his in return, but here you are…and you will do anything in your power to keep him safe.

“Röskva?” There is a soft hum in response, and you continue in a broken attempt at Vanir. “(Jotun-king planning kill this king?)”

There is a rustle as the girl puts down the sewing she was working on, then the subdued sound of bare feet before she comes into view, taking a seat near the window. “(You know this.)”

“(He in danger if here.)”

“(Yes, madama.)” A deep frown is almost obscuring her eyes completely. “(What is it that you are plotting?)”

It is still harder to find the words than articulate the rolling R’s, but you plow on undeterred. “(Who become new ruler here?)”

“(There will be an –)“ she uses a word that carries little meaning to you until she explains it: election.

Of course, those eligible to vote would be the men of noble ancestry, but as for the candidates…they have to be approved by the heads of the dominant religions in Midgard, every commoner knows that the and priests, templars, and monks silently wants things to change for the better of the simple folk. Where else but to the gods have the people been able to turn to as things got worse for them? They have witnessed the suffering, tried to care for as many as possible while watching from first row how the court have gorged themselves.

“(Send my love word…he stay safe…I home soon.)”

… LOKI’s PoV …

Glass shards dance across the stone floor, capturing and refracting the light from the afternoon sun into a myriad of tiny rainbows, but the beauty of destruction is lost on Loki as he stares at the message in his shaking hand. Clearly, it is not written by [Y/N]. He would know her clumsy letters or runes anywhere. No this is writing is careful and tight to minimize waste of space, each word chosen carefully to be as precise as possible without revealing too much. This is in itself by no means alarming, as most of the messages about her are written by someone else, but the last words…

I fear she will take your role.

As much as the king of Jotunheim had wished to be more closely involved, his part of the scheme is but a limited one despite the importance of it. The old him would have taken it as an offense if anyone, anyone at all, would consider taking over such a task regardless of their reasons for it because that Loki only would be blinded by a destructive notion of inadequacy and dismissal. But this Loki (the son of Frigga, Odin, and Laufey) king of Jotunheim feels none of that. Instead, it is a cold fear of another’s potential suffering that is making his world spin and hands shake. No coherent thoughts form in his mind, and once they appear, they are twisted into grotesque nightmares. If she does and she is caught... the distress is causing the trembling hands to change hue. They will imprison her. A chill which not even the fire can overpower steals into the room. Or maybe kill her on the spot. Tendrils of ice spreads across the floor from where Loki stands, coiling around and up anything in their path, and the flames in the hearth shrink visibly. A knock on the door startles him.

“My king…Thor has arrived.” The servant sounds particularly timid.

What?! It takes a conscious effort to keep his voice level. “Show him to the throne room.”

Finally becoming aware of the surroundings, the king breathes deeply in an effort to shackle his emotions. As he watches skin return to a humane hue and the destruction fade, leaving small puddles on the floor, a thought so outlandishly rash it makes his chuckle occurs to him. And who better than to help carry out this approximation of a plan than Thor?

…

Striding into the hall, he finds Loki standing by the roaring fire. The red coat nearly reaches the floor but does nothing to hide the muscular arms folded across the brother’s broad chest wrapped in armour of gold inlaid silvery metal.

“Thor, what a delight to see you here!” The smile Loki has plastered on his face is not entire fake.

Electric blue eyes reflect the heat of the fire as they land upon Loki for a second before another voice answers. Kind, warm, and familiar. The brothers could go anywhere in any of the realms and still recognize Frigga through the noise of the rowdiest place even if she spoke in a whisper.

“My son, I need you to listen to me now more than ever.” Stepping into sight, she reaches out for the younger of her children. “We have received the same message as you. I know what you want to do.”

The king of Jotunheim stays rooted in place, watching her hands fall before speaking. “Oh, really?” It is futile to challenge her, because Loki is her son more than Odin’s, but he will not have anyone stand in his way. “And what, pray tell, are my plans?”

“Brother, do not act foolishly,” Thor interjects, his voice a reminder of his powers, “if you go to stop lady [Y/N], then you risk exposing her not to mention abandoning your kingdom to an uncertain fate. Is that what you want?”

Where Frigga’s words merely had annoyed Loki because he knows that she sees more than others (not like Heimdal does, of course), Thor’s words stokes a fire deep within. A flaming rage similar to the one that flared upon hearing the Midgardian’s crude insult in the tent less than a fortnight ago. And this time the Jotun is fully aware of the red that begins to fill his eyes, a sight that would make cowards of most (and does at least make Thor frown)…but Frigga steps forward to take the cold hands in her own.

“Please, listen to me. Let me show you what I have seen.”

After a nod, she drags him to a seat. He lets her place his palm on her forehead, even bends slightly so she can reach his, before in- and exhaling slowly to regain a semblance of calmness.

The dark hall around them falls away, leaving them in an emptiness of opportunities until he relents control to Frigga, and glimpses of unknown places appear with one common denominator: [Y/N]. The first scene shows her slip behind a painting in the dead of night when only the stars light the castle’s interior. Next, she reappears in what appears to be a bathroom by pushing a panel in the pink and white wall aside, then tiptoeing across smooth stone which change to a fluffy carpet. She stops at a fourposter bed decorated with gold and pink lace, but he cannot see what happens there, only hear the spine-chilling sigh a few moments later. Then the scene changes and [Y/N] is dangling from a rope, a familiar stubborn expression on the upturned face. Next moment she stands on a balcony, knife in hand. Suddenly it is day, the court of nobles mingling about the familiar shape are at an uproar, but at least she appears safe.

“This is what can be,” Frigga’s voice fills the void that has surrounded them, “it is to prefer over this…”

Loki’s form is leaning over Magni’s neck, urging the horse on at a dangerous speed. He arrives at a castle without any attempt at disguising who he is, who he really is, and alarms sound everywhere causing guards to barge into a darkened bedroom styled in rich reds and greens where an unassuming man sits up in bed with a start and a familiar figure is caught sneaking in through a balcony door armed with a dagger. The next scene shows her too, in the same room and with the same soldiers and (Loki guesses) the king…but the only one alive is the Jotun despite the blood soaking his clothing and the many injuries he has sustained. Crimson eyes flare in the dark as he rocks the lifeless form of the woman he loves.

In reality, it is not Loki who is rocking, but he who is being rocked. Frigga is holding her son almost like she did when he was young and upset, and of course Loki realises this in much the same way that he is highly aware that Thor is watching, or that he has to keep the Jotun powers in check to avoid the risk of hurting either of the Asgardians.

Breathing deeply, the hard clench of his fists steadies him. “None of those futures are certain.” He knows a bit of how Frigga’s gift works.

“That is true.” But the sadness in her eyes is not subdued when their eyes meet.

“I assume you have conferred with Heimdal.”

It is Thor who answers, relenting the information that the Watcher has seen nothing alarming at Sjöblik as of yet. The tone is clear, tough. Both he and Frigga are trying to get Loki to stay put, inferring that he will be to blame for any ill events that may happen. If [Y/N] is harmed because of me…the risk alone is to great, and the dread it brings is strong enough that for once the Jotun is permeated by a cold as intense as the winters in these lands. It threatens to paralyze him, suffocate him in his own apathy. Never before has Loki felt this powerless, and he hates it with a passion almost comparable to the intensity of his love for the one person he is being asked to abandon to fate.

“There must be somethi–“ he begins desperately before being interrupted.

“Not now.” Frigga shushes.

A heavy hand lands on Loki’s shoulder. “Do not worry, little brother. You have trained this maiden of your well! I think she may yet surprise us pleasantly.”

…

Unsurprisingly, Frigga has had the foresight not to leave her son alone in Utgard, and as a result, Thor has been having a blast challenging anyone to spar until Loki relents. Now they are circling each other in the snowy courtyard while almost every Jötun in the keep watches from the sidelines. Mjölnir is standing neatly in a corner as per usual when the brothers brawl simply to minimize the risk of collateral damage (though it obviously does not eliminate it), and Thor is using a mighty sword in its stead.

They know each other well, rarely falling for the feinting jabs or swings. In truth, neither of them expect to win a match like this by means of weapons and crude violence although each participant is more than capable of slaying the strongest of foes if it were a real battle. Loki has never favoured brawn, always being reminded of his lesser size by his father and anyone else not fond of the dark-haired child. And Thor? He has the strength and he may not be as bookishly intelligent as Loki, but the God of Thunder is far from stupid, especially when it comes to tactics.

The first real move comes in a powerful sweep with the sword, developing out of a seemingly harmless jab, and Loki has to flatten his back onto the compacted snow as the blade hums through the air inches above his nose.

“Ah! Close one, brother!” Thor has been pulled around by the momentum, leaving the master of the keep time to regain both footing and breath. “This is a fine weapon!”

Loki sends a handful of throwing blades towards the blond’s unprotected back. “It is traditional for the Jötun clans of the northern plains.”

Each slim knife is deflected by either vambraces or the weapon in question, making Thor grin proudly. Keep laughing, brother mine. Behind the Asgardian, the snow transform into ice while collapsing in on itself, readying to launch a crystalline missile towards the unsuspecting fighter. Not yet. Rolling to avoid a new stroke, Loki reaches the rack with weapons available throughout the sparring session and grabs his favourite longer ranged weapon: a smooth spear of dark wood with silver and gold threads inlaid along the shaft. The tip is nearly black with the exception of the same threads weaving in and out of each other.

“I was wondering if you would keep relying on your toothpicks.” Blue eyes shine with mirth, teeth gleam like snow in sunlight.

A few jabs and a sweeping arch for Thor’s feet has the guest positioned perfectly for the surprise hidden in the snow. “Not at all,” Loki smirks, “I just deemed it polite to let you stand a chance.”

Clenching a fist suddenly, the sorcerer fires the icy missile. As if in slow motion, he sees it burst from the snow with deadly precision and it would have hit true if Thor had not had the wits to throw himself awkwardly to the side, now it merely grazes the warrior, sending him spinning into the heaps of snow. By the time his face reappears, it is met with the gleaming tip of a spear less than an inch from the nose.

“Loki…one,” the champion smiles.

Thor smiles undeterred, eager to continue the game as though he were a puppy. “Thor nil. Smart fighting.”

… READER’s PoV …

“What d’you mean they dis’peared?!”

King Gorm’s rage is echoing through the halls, causing the servants to scurry on with their heads down and the nobles present to attempt carrying on with their conversations although with slightly shrill voices. Standing by a tall window of stained-glass mosaics, the distress makes you smile despite the fat drop of rain that have been falling nonstop the last couple of days.

An answer is given and appears to be unsatisfactory. “NO! I’ll no’ ‘ave it,” the monarch nearly screams, “don’t you come spurtin’ tha’ kinda nonsense! I ‘spect nuttin’ less than p’fection! I want them punished! ALL o’ them!”

“But my lord,” finally the distressed voice of the military advice can be heard, “the few that did return, dutifully and with proo–“

“ALL o’ them! You think I dunno see wha’ ‘tis? Huh?! Lettin’ their mates wander off like tha’?!”

A shiver runs down your spine that has nothing to do with pettiness or the shill of the damp air. Whatever has happened (probably a regiment opting to desert) will now cause innocent souls suffering simply because the king acts like a spoiled child. Someone should send him to the front. Have him live under the same conditions as the lowliest soldier. It is a futile wish, of course. No one here will suggest anything that can cost them their own safety. Maybe they just don’t care about others?

...

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softupshur · 5 years

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The Lord Rejoices: Chapter 15

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Ao3 link if you’re into that kind of thing

~Updates every Sunday~

During Temple Gate’s founding years, Marta nears womanhood and wonders of God’s plan for her.

*Warning that this is one of the more disturbing/squicky chapters and please proceed with caution*

Chapter 15:

The days that followed blurred together. The slaughterhouse became as regular as trips to the market. More animals died at Marta’s hand, some sick and needing rest, but a few remained strong and hearty until their final breath. Knoth’s praises always followed.

No longer did Marta bat an eye nor wretch at the stench. It had become so much a part of her that people crinkled their noses and whispered as she passed them, but she never stayed long enough to hear them theorize on her state and smell.

As time passed, Knoth shirked his duties so long that he abandoned Marta for a day at the chapel. While he tended to his flock, Marta saw to her chores and went to gather firewood. Axe in hand, she travelled into the forest. She came to a clearing with a barren stump in the center. Around it lay several logs. Townsmen often used the space for gathering lumber when they hadn’t room in their own yards for the task, but today, only Otis worked on breaking down pieces of wood. He paused and sniffed at the air, but when he looked around, he couldn’t see Marta until she stepped forward.

“Good day.”

He flinched. “Oh, hey...didn’t hear you come up.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Otis shook the last of his nerves then stepped aside. “You want the block for a little?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Be my guest.”

He set a piece of wood on the stump, and she thanked him before bringing the axe down.

“Don’t mention it.” He drank from his canteen as she swung the axe again.

“How have you been?” Marta asked.

He shrugged. “I’ve been okay, aside from falling behind on chores, as you can see.”

“That makes two of us.”

Another swing.

“Well, you’ve been busy, right?” His question came slowly, deliberately.

“...Yes.”

“And Knoth is still making you do his chores?”

“I volunteered.” Marta’s grip tightened as she chopped a block, then waited for Otis to place the next one.

“My mistake,” he uttered.

“It’s fine.”

Splinters flew off the last cut, falling with the dead leaves on the ground.

“I’ve been…” She chopped another block as she searched for an answer. “Okay.”

“That’s good. People have been saying some weird things and I wasn’t sure if you were alright.”

“What do they say?” Marta looked up.

“Everyone thinks Knoth is training you for something, but no one knows what. They only say he’s acting strangely and you always smell of blood.”

“Do I reek of it now?”

“...A little.”

“Think nothing of it.” Marta wiped the sweat from her brow. “I needed to pick up meat from the slaughterhouse for tonight’s dinner.”

“Alright.” Otis fetched more wood.

“And how is Paige?” Marta asked after another cut. “I seldom see her in town these days.”

“Because she’s been sick,” He answered too quickly. When Marta raised an eyebrow, he continued, “The colder months most likely.”

“I’m sorry to hear.”

“It’s fine, just a cold. A little rest and she’ll be alright.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? If you have chores to attend to, I can go to your home and aid Paige in her housework so she may rest.”

“No!” He blurted loudly enough to make Marta stop and stare. He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to worry about us, really. She’s probably asleep anyways. No need to wake her.”

“Yes, but...I had still hoped to see her, even if only for a moment. I never did apologize about…” She bit her lip. “Georgette, right?”

“Forget it. It’s no big deal.” Otis avoided meeting her gaze.

“Are you sure? She seemed awfully upset at the time.”

“It’s not like you did it on purpose. She won’t stay mad forever.”

“So she is mad.”

“No-no! What I mean is she was mad, but she’s fine now!”

“Except her cold.”

“Right, the cold!” Otis attempted a smile which Marta returned with narrowed eyes.

“Can you get me one last block of wood?”

“Oh, sure…”

Once he set it before her, he nearly jumped at how fast and hard the axe came down, splitting the wood in two.

Otis went to tie his own collection. “I need to get going.” He’d have left without a goodbye if Marta hadn’t called after him.

“Good day and God bless,” she said, her voice flat.

“Yeah...God bless,” Otis muttered without facing her.

Marta watched him hurry off. He might have ran if not for the wood anchoring him. Marta decided to follow him.

Not once did Otis turn as she trailed behind. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have spotted her weaving through the shadows cast by the trees. She took great effort to keep her steps silent when lingering outside his home. There, she waited until Paige opened the door to let Otis in. She wore oven mitts and a stained apron, smiling sweetly as ever, chattering about something Marta couldn’t hear. They disappeared inside and Marta returned home for the evening.

Marta cooked dinner as any other night, but rather than inquire about Knoth’s day, she asked of blood.

“People take notice of the scent. They’ve begun to talk.”

“Then let them,” he replied. “So long as you confirm nothing, idle prattle is all it will be.”

“But it gives me away.”

They locked eyes for a moment before he nodded. “I have an idea.” He left the table and returned with a small globe on a thin chain. Incense seeped through. “Take this with you when you go through town. It will mask the scent and if any ask, say that you returned from chapel.”

“Thank you. I shall try that.”

Without another word on the matter, they dined like any other night.

The following evening, Marta lingered outside the Walsh home again. She dared to draw closer, with the incense burner tied around her waist.

Framed by a brightly lit window, Paige and Otis dined together. Seth preferred to build a mound out of his mashed potatoes to bury his vegetables. Once or twice, Otis scolded Seth, but Seth would only chomp into the juicy steak and demand dessert after putting the intact vegetables on Paige’s plate.

When Marta tired of watching, she returned home and retired for bed without dinner.

Each night, Marta watched them through that window.

Sometimes, Knoth caught her sneaking in long past supper. He sat at the empty table, leaving the kitchen untouched. Marta waited for a scolding, but only received wordless stares as she walked past him to retire for bed. Not once did he ask where she had been.

One evening, curtains shielded the window that Marta usually watched them through. All the lights had been snuffed out, from the kitchen to the living room, even the porch. Only a faint glow came from one of the bedroom windows. Though that window was covered as well, Marta drew closer. She removed her boots so that she could step onto the porch without disturbing the creaky planks. Tiptoeing, Marta made her way to the outside of the bedroom where she could barely hear them.

“I can’t do this.” Otis’s voice broke through first.

“Yes, you can,” Paige made no effort to manage her tone. “Just stick it in there and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Marta covered her mouth. She considered running, but remained when the talk continued.

“But what if I hurt you?”

Paige groaned. “Then I’ll tell you and you could pull it out and try again! We just have to focus!”

“But—”

“Stop it! We can’t put this off any longer. It has to be tonight.”

“What if we wake up Seth?”

“Otis, oh my God!” Paige nearly shouted. “If Seth wakes up then you just put him back to bed! You could tell him whatever you want afterwards, but right now, just do it.”

“Alright, alright…”

Marta held her breath in the silence that followed, only releasing it when Paige spoke again.

“What the hell are you waiting for!?”

“There has to be another way.” Otis said almost too quietly to hear. “This is too dangerous.”

“Otis!”

“No! I’m not doing it! We’ll think of something else!”

“By the time we ‘think of something else,’ it’ll be too late! Either you help me or I’ll do it myself!”

“Paige, give that back!”

“No! I’m doing this whether you like it or not! If you want to help, get the mirror so I don’t mess up!”

Marta could hear Otis’s footsteps run off for a moment, though they quickly returned.

A gasp from Paige followed as if someone knocked the breath out of her, then a slight groaning.

Eyes wide, Marta sank to sit, her back against the wall. Every whimper, moan, and cry that broke through the wall made her shrink further into herself. Her head hung low as she tried to discern the sounds as pain or pleasure.

Then came a final, loud cry. It lacked the restraint of the other sounds, making Marta jolt up. She took her shoes and went far enough so she could no longer hear the two.

For a good time, she waited in the darkness when the front door flew open.

Otis exited with a bloodied sheet gathered in his arms. Setting it down, he then fetched a shovel from the shed. He looked over the area, missing Marta in the dark, reclaimed the sheet, and departed.

If not for her unnaturally long strides, Marta would have struggled to keep up with him as he ran. He would slow only when passing certain houses too closely. Despite his apparent carefulness, he never looked back until he reached the outskirts of town. Even so, he pressed forward.

Without the buildings’ shadows to hide her, Marta fell further behind, making do with cliffs and jags to mask her presence.

A mile outside of Temple Gate, Otis stopped. He set the sheet down before digging. He only dug few feet deep before setting the shovel down, then took the bundle and placed it in the hole carefully, as if he feared whatever lay inside would break. Only after great hesitation did he fill in the hole and start back to town.

Marta didn’t follow. Rather, she went to the newly dug plot and knelt before it.

The dirt moved easily under her bare hands. Much of it caked under her nails, but she continued to dig until reaching the sheet. Dirt stains now joined the splotches of red. She lifted it and felt an unmistakable weight. Setting it down, she muttered a quick prayer before unfolding it, as if unwrapping a gift.

Under the final fold was a bloodied fetus, wrinkled, undersized, and lumpy. It resembled a pulp, but human, its eyes shut and little mouth frozen open.

#oh look the ocs are back #just in time for blasphemy #Marta #Sullivan Knoth #Otis #Paige #Outlast ocs #writing #fanfiction

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dapperkobold · 6 years

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Review at Random: Lego Batman 3

Yeah, really putting that ‘at Random’ to work today, huh? The lego games are something of a guilty pleasure for me, I know I’m not the target audience but they’re fun, clever, sometimes funny, and the breadth of characters and moments of... almost lucid absurdity are great.

So, let’s talk about the most recent (if still kind of old) Lego DC game!

Presentation

One nice thing about the lego games is that there generally isn’t a lot of advanced geometry, so my computer can handle them well. Not a lot to say, really, the interactive objects are pretty consistently separate from the non-interactive ones, the characters all look good, and the voice acting is all pretty fine.

Now, there’s moments of shakiness in all those, and the occasionally inconsistent bug that can be annoying, but at the same time there’s a fair amount of extra flourishes that can be great. Characters have differing body language, elements are only rarely re-used between them even with the giant host of extra characters, and someone clearly went and had a lot of fun with the joker’s extra outfits. However, that mass of characters means that basically everyone you don’t get in the main story has very similar animations and (mostly) generic voice grunts with few if any lines.

The environments all look fine, every area custom-made and hand-designed, even the big(ish) open world planets have some variance to their layout (Barring Oa, which is just racetracks). The interactive elements often integrate with the static ones well, and the end result is that every area is a joy to explore the first time and interesting even afterward.

Other than that, the UI is fine and the sound design is nothing to write home about. Now, the occasional reference-tastic line of dialogue is great, but there’s a few other things that seem great for a moment but get old fast. The first thing that jumps to mind is the Wonder Woman theme playing when she starts flying, which is hilarious the first three times you do it and then agitating from there. Superman has something similar, but the mellow brass of the beginning of the Superman theme is much less agitating than the whistles and choir of the Wonder Woman one.

I didn’t even know Wonder Woman had a TV show in the 70s.

Other than that, the scan effect covers the entire screen for several seconds whenever it’s used, something that annoys me to no end. It was faster in the the LEGO Marvel game, I’m just pretty sure! Of course then LEGO Avengers (A different game) added a stupid minigame to it, so...

Final Presentation Score: A-

While more certainly could be done, it’s a solid art style with solid art direction and fairly good production quality. Nothing amazing, but I don’t require games to BE amazing. The main thing keeping it back is the occasional honestly annoying decision or bug, but nothing so big that I want to knock it down a letter grade.

Gameplay

Analyzing the gameplay of a LEGO game is a little tricky because you need to keep in mind the thoughts behind the game: this is not a game for you, this is a game for kids. It’s not a ‘puzzle game’ like you likely think of, it’s a game where the ‘puzzles’ are a mix of figuring which character needs to push which button where and then doing that and watching strange things unfold as doing that doesn’t always have the result you expected.

So, there’s little point in gauging the combat, it’s there to give kids something fun to knock around. The puzzles are overwhelmingly effortless, completion is a matter of perseverance over cleverness, and challenges are made to be novel over being thought-provoking.

That’s all well and good; this is a game for elementary school or middle school kids. Sure, others can still have some ‘shut your brain off’ fun with it but if you want to push yourself in any way and you’re conscious of some kind of job or educational degree you should be striving for, this game is unlikely to satisfy you. Maybe the races, but they’re less hard because of tight design and more because of varying amounts of nonsense.

Using the abilities is pretty reliable, the targets are reliably identifiable and nothing important is hidden away where it can’t be found. Sometimes placement can be a little hit and miss but all said and done it does what it sets out to do.

Other than that, if you’ve played a LEGO superhero game, you know how this goes: Break, Fight, Build, use, swap to the other character, go in in freeplay and do it again. Sure, one mechanic may be missing and another may be present in its place, but nothing extreme. If you haven’t played a LEGO superhero game, it’s like other LEGO games but with superheroes. If you haven’t played LEGO games... just look up about any gameplay footage from a modern LEGO game on youtube. It’s like that but with more green lantern. With the flying and the hard light constructs and the lasers. Yeah.

The main really unique thing this game has going for it is the suit system, and even that isn’t really new: In previous LEGO Batman games Batman and Robin had a number of suits they could swap between to accomplish required tasks, giving those two the kind of absurd flexibility they should have when it comes to solving puzzles. It works, and in this game they’ve stopped hogging it: Cyborg, Lex Luthor, and Joker get in on the fun, too.

The issue with these characters is that in Free Play they’re an extra button press or two to get to a specific ability. As a result you avoid them in free play, unless you’re messing around some or are honestly drawing a blank on who has that one power you need right now. The suit goons are reliably near the top of the character select screen and one of them likely has it.

And let me tell you, when you’re not in the mood to mess around most of those characters will get ignored. In the end you’re going to tend toward characters toward the top of the screen, where the storyline characters are, and the bottom of the screen where the DLC characters are if you have them. There’s a few reasons for this; the characters aren’t organized in any fashion I can think of and so knowing that a character can do something doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t find them on the giant grid. Ever since the beginning the LEGO games could have benefited from some kind of sort, search, or favorite function, and as the cast size increases this lack will be felt more and more (Lego Marvel 2 is supposed to have over 300 characters!).

Something that the people at Tt have caught onto a little but only after this game is letting the player know who has what abilities. As is, you’re going to have to experiment, and with a lot of abilities being situation-sensitive it’s not easy to do testing. This further encourages a player to find a small team of reliable characters and stick with them.

My personal favorite characters in terms of mechanics are (alas) both DLC characters. Bizarro has fire breath (the most powerful combat ability in the game) and can do almost anything superman can do. Joker (Nurse) has a rocket launcher, maybe the best explosive weapon in the game.

On the other hand, if you want to discover more about the DC universe, choose a character you don’t recognize from this game and look them up. Polka Dot Man, Azreal, Bat-Mite, Ambush Bug, Cyborg Superman, Heat Wave, Manchester Black, Vibe, take your pick. There’s some weird stuff here.

At the same time, if you are too familiar with the DC continuity you may occasionally stumble across something that should work but doesn’t for no reason. Like Wonder Woman and strength handles. Also, Braniac has an entirely new skillset. This just makes experimentation that much more needed... and in turn, it that much more aggravating that there’s no way to do it easily.

However, there’s a few LEGO game rules this game breaks; There’s a few characters that have an ability unique to them: Braniac, The Atom, and Plastic man. Personally I consider that more than a little low, forcing the player to unlock specific characters to go about certain things. In LEGO Avengers there’s something that basically only Ultron can do, but there’s three kinds of Ultron one of which is pretty cheap. Plastic Man they at least give you for free, but HIS gimmick is that he’s the only way to get power bricks. And THAT is even lower.

Oh, one more thing: I wish I could turn off the hints.

Final Gameplay Score: B

For a LEGO game, this is fine. For a LEGO game. Sure, there’s trip-ups enough that I won’t go easy on it, but still it’s a good time if you’re into this kind of game.

Personally, the single character in this game I want to see more of? The Fierce Flame. I’m a little tired of Speed Force speedsters, let’s get someone who’s fast but not absurdly so and without a risk of making a temporal paradox by breaking wind.

Writing

Once again, this story is not aimed at you. It’s aimed at kids. It’s basically middle school-targeted writing.

Not that the basic idea is bad, in the setting of the last two Lego Batman games (which are not really needed to understand the plot here) Brainiac appears above earth and (after some opening intrigue involving mind control and a mob of villains) reveals his intent to shrink the Earth for his collection using the different colors of the emotional spectrum to super-charge his shrink machine. From there the different lantern cores need to be brought together and coerced into fixing the earth... much easier said than done.

I make it sound more complex there than it actually comes across: the plot is fine (other than the occasional minor plot hole) and works well enough. The place were the writing suffers is the character writing: A lot of characters have one angle and lean on it. Sure, we weren’t going to get well-rounded characters from this in any case, but they could honestly have done better than what they did. Martian Manhunter referring to everyone by their title is lame. Cyborg was given the generic teen attitude. Not like he was in the Teen Titans cartoon (though he does say ‘booyah’ as a random quip) but instead as a fairly generic tech-savy teen. Other characters either have too few lines to get a grasp on them or are just straightforward in presentation.

And don’t even get me started on the emotional spectrum personality shifts. That just makes everyone involved annoying. Sakes alive...

But, all the same there’s a few times when some comedy honestly shines through, like Wonder Woman putting Cheetah in the magic lasso... and Cheetah telling her that she doubts Superman likes Wonderwoman back. Those moments are pretty good, but they’re not as reliable in coming as I would like.

Other than that... I dunno, the quest writing isn’t bad, forming little plots and getting characters to interact on occasion. Don’t expect anything to be as complex or as characterized as you’re used to, but there is not-bad writing here.

Final Writing Score: C

...but “not bad” is all I can say. More could certainly have been done, the few plot holes are jarring when you notice them, the character writing is okay at most and agitating at worst. I kind of like it, but that’s pretty clearly because I default to positive emotions. Someone more critical than I am is more likely to have it hurt their enjoyment.

Overall

Well, it’s a LEGO game. It works fine, even if the writing is lackluster, and I enjoy it despite really not being the target audience. I just enjoy OTHER LEGO games more. That said, if you’re not the sort to enjoy things aimed at middle schoolers, likely just don’t bother. You wouldn’t be missing out on any writing or gameplay of note.

On the other hand, it’s not solidly bad.

Presentation: A-

Gameplay: B

Writing: C

FINAL GRADE: B

If you like the LEGO games, you could do worse!

Awards:

Batman Flash Can Breathe In Space

Bizarro #1

Super LEGO Experience

#reviews at random #lego batman #lego batman 3 #stuff i made #I'm 90% sure I could find someone else who could do shrinking #and in previous games clayface did the shapeshifting #so there's really no excuse for the exclusivity.

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