#long time no see lads i finally remembered how to draw humans again

[earlgreyandco]

kuroshitsuji is about found family

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #soph posts #my art #arrested development #long time no see lads i finally remembered how to draw humans again

[bonjour-rainycity]

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates! 

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

#bonjourcontentchallenge #lot #lord of the rings #tolkien #legolas x reader #legolas x female reader #lotr fic #lotr imagine #legolas #legolas imagine #legolas mini series #aragorn #pippin #merry #gandalf #gimli #boromir #sam #lotr reader-insert #lotr female reader #tolkien fic #tolkien imagine #legolas greenleaf #legolas fanfic #legolas x yn #legolas x you

[naerysthelonesome]

The Sanctuary Scene

Part 2

“Thomas Lightwood,” said Alastair, “I am nothing like you.”

Like him? How could someone like Alastair ever come close to being like someone like Thomas? How could anyone? The man in question looking shocked and flustered, made a move like he was going to get up and bang his head against a wall. Alastair had an idea what Thomas must’ve been thinking, so he hurried on.

“I am nothing like you, Thomas,” he said earnestly, “because you are one of the better people I have ever known. You have a kind nature and a heart like some knight out of legend. Brave and proud and true and strong. All of it.” He smiled and it felt almost like grief, “And all the time you have known me, I have been a terrible person. So, you see. We are nothing at all alike.”

Thomas’ gaze snapped up to his own then, and Alastair was relieved to see him look at least slightly less distressed. He knew that wasn’t what Thomas had expected to hear. He hadn’t even meant the question in the way Alastair had decided to interpret it, but those things had been too important for him not to say. He needed Thomas to know just how highly he thought of him.

“I’m not----” Thomas cut himself off, seeming to think better of disputing what Alastair had said, instead saying, “That’s not what I meant.”

Alastair supposed it was finally time to address the real question. “ I know what you meant.”

Thomas didn’t look inclined to respond, now seemingly rooted to the spot, so he decided to take pity on him and continued, “How did you know about Charles?”

“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in Paris,” said Thomas, “But you mentioned Charles, over and over again, like you got pleasure out of just saying his name. And when you came to London this summer, I saw the way you looked at him. I know what is it to have to hide the- the signs of affection.”

The hurt that came with the memory of what Charles had meant to him was no surprise, but the brief flash of irritation and… something else were unexpected. All he knew in that moment was that he needed Thomas to know Charles had since lost his favour.

“Then I imagine you may have noticed I don’t look at Charles that way anymore.”

“I suppose I did”, Thomas, blessedly, said, “Though for the past four months, I’ve been trying not to look at you. I told myself I hated you. But I could never really make myself. When Elias died, all I could think about was you. What you must be feeling.”

Thomas’ kindness hurt more than his hate ever could. How could anyone be so good? He had said such repugnant things about his family, and yet here he was, worried about how he must be feeling.

“I insulted your father and blackened his name. You were under no obligation to care about mine”, he said with a wince.

“I know, but sometimes I think that it is much harder to lose someone who we are on bad terms with than it is to lose someone with whom all is well.”

Alastair felt heat behind his eyes. He had done nothing to deserve such understanding. Nothing. He deserved to be hated. He wanted to scream at Thomas to hate him hate him hate him! But the human embodiment of the Angel Zadkiel himself had long since refused.

“Bloody hell, Thomas. You should hate me, not be thinking about what I must be feeling---” Alastair wiped at the tears now threating to fall. “And the worst of it is, you’re right, of course. You always understood other people so well. I think I partly hated you for it, for being so kind. I thought, ‘He must have so much, to be able to be so generous.’ And I thought that I had nothing. It never occurred to me that you had secrets too.”

His heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest. Never had he revealed so much of himself to anyone before.

“You were always my secret,” he heard Thomas say softly, and turned to stare at him. He felt almost dizzy with how fast his blood was rushing in his ears at the revelation.

“Does no one know?” he managed to say, “That you- like men? How long have you known?”

“Since after I came to school, I think”, Thomas said, “I knew what caught my eye, quickened my pulse, and it was never a girl.”

Alastair looked at Thomas as he tried to pull the pieces of himself back together, “And you never told anyone?”

Thomas seemed to hesitate, and he didn’t know if he wanted to hear what came next or not.

“I could have told my friends that I liked men. They would have understood. But I couldn’t have told them how I felt about you.”

Alastair thought back to how terrible he had been at school, and knew exactly why Thomas had had to keep him a secret all this time. How he wished he could have gone back and changed the things he’d said and done. No matter what he felt for Thomas now, the sad truth remained that he had not thought much of the small boy who followed him around school. Such a far cry from the almost puppy-like lad that had near worshipped him back at the academy, was the strong, kind, beautiful Thomas seated in front of him now. Regardless, every version of Thomas deserved to be loved and treasured by everyone around him, and Alastair could not regret enough the boy he had once been.

“So you did feel something for me. I thought—” Alastair hadn’t known. He shook his head in frustration. “I didn’t see you—you were this boy following me around at school, and then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I thought you were beautiful. But I was still caught up with Charles—” He almost couldn’t believe the things he was saying, could barely understanding all the feelings that had suddenly decided to rear their heads. “Just another thing I’ve wasted. Your regard for me. I wasted my time and affection on Charles. I wasted my chance with you.” He was fully aware how bitter he sounded, but couldn’t seem to be able to keep his emotions in checks anymore.

He was starting to grow increasingly frustrated when Thomas once again tried to stop his heart, saying, “Maybe not. About me, I mean.”

“Speak sense, Lightwood,” he snapped, unwilling to jump to the belated conclusions his mind tried to conjure up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this”, he said, and leaning in close, kissed him on the mouth.

His breath stopped. His heart sped up. His eyes widened. Thomas was kissing him. Kissing him. His hands moved to clutch Thomas’ shirtfront like a lifeline when he felt him pull away. He pulled himself up to his knees- to get closer? To look into his eyes?- he didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care.

“Thomas--” he began without anything to say. This was really happening. This couldn’t happen. Forgiving him was one thing… kissing him, giving him this chance, was quite another. He let his hands fall and his face turn away.

“Just imagine,” Thomas said urgently, “What if we’d never gone to the academy together? What if none of those things had happened, and Paris was the first time we’d met? And this was the second?”

I would want to be with you, came the immediate answer. I do want to be with you. But those things had happened. He had gone to the academy with the thieves and acted a complete ass toward them.

But. But here was Thomas; beautiful, generous, merciful Thomas wishing to overlook everything he had said and done for the chance to be with him. Alastair couldn’t imagine why, but Angels above, he wanted to take that chance. In that moment, he couldn’t remember anything he had ever wanted more.

He felt a slow smile make its way onto his face, and spoke through the pressure threatening to crack his chest open, “Damn you, Thomas.” He grabbed the man, and pulled him close, firmly slotting their lips together once more.

This was nothing like what kissing Charles had been. This was pure and thrilling and right. He found his hands running up Thomas’ strong, muscled arms. There was nothing he’d rather do. Throwing all inhibition out the window, he kissed the man before him deeply, and ran his palms over the broad expanse of his chest. He’d wanted to know what Thomas felt like this for so long, ever since Paris, and now that he could, it felt better than a dream come true.

Thomas kissed him back fervently, and that was all the reassurance he needed that what was happening was good. Thomas’ lips moved from his own to his jaw, and he felt himself growl in pleasure. The taller man kissed down the column of his neck, hands pressed against his waist, as he made his way to Alastair’s pulse point. Alastair’s hands slipped over his back, drawing him closer, letting him suck at his skin. There he was, locked in a sanctuary with Thomas, locked in his perfect embrace. The World be damned, there was nowhere he’d rather be.

#thomastair #meant to post this a lot sooner #the sanctuary scene #part two #mild hurt/comfort #chain of gold #chain of iron #fanfiction #thomastair fanfiction

[cupcakemolotov]

Twisted Intentions: Chapter Two

@accidental-rambler​ let us not go back and check how long this chapter has been coming, yeah? But I think its finally finished? Probably. We are ending it here, at least.

Everyone please be checking the tags on this one. It is a fairly more darker take than I usually do, these two crazy murder fiends, and there is smut. The first scene below has some murder to it, but nothing smutty. You can find both chapters on A03: Chapter One, Chapter Two.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Regency; Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon; Possessive Klaus Mikaelson; Vampire Caroline; F/F Smut; M/F smut; Non-Klaroline Smut (referenced); Referenced Threesome F/F/M; Canon-Typical Violence; Not Canon Compliant; Dark Caroline Forbes; Past-Prostitution; Klaroline End Game; no non-con; Suggested Sexual Coercion; Vampire Klaus Mikaelson; Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson; Compulsion; Murder; Dark; Violence; Smut; Orgasm Delay/Denial; Oral Sex; Sex; Murder Kink; Biting; Blood Kink;  Mutual Masturbation  

                                                          -

The pub was quiet so early in the evening, dust lingering the corners the same as the plague lingered on the street. It was not a place she would have willingly visited, but some summons could not be ignored. Casually, she ran her fingers over her lips to make sure she’d cleaned up any of the blood that might have lingered.

Today was her third day as a vampire, and tonight had been her first solo deliberate kill. Her sire had taught her how to compel a man, the taste of a rabbiting pulse against her tongue, the fastest way to a heart with her fingers, and she had taken well to the hunt. Caroline felt no shame in learning to enjoy what she had become, to embrace the choice that she had been given, that she had made.

Some monsters, after all, were not nearly so kind as to show their devil’s bargains with fangs and eyes, though she had learned to recognize them all the same. But while the life of a whore had taught her many things, this new existence had been illuminating. Caroline had learned to avoid the sun, begun to learn the language of the night outside of the stained sheets of her old bedroom, and not once had she gone hungry. Here in the midst of the plague, blood was as easy to steal as the streets made dying, and for the first time in her seventeen years, she felt strong. Powerful. The predator instead of prey, and it was a heady feeling after years of being powerless.

But dangerous. She could not forget the dangers of this new life. Dangerous that she had not yet fully come to recognize. While her sire was indulgent of his newest creations, she was not such a fool to take his pretty did not hide a terrible sort of lethal practicality. Those dimples masked a violence she had caught lingering in his eyes, and every instinct she had warned her that there was more to him than he wanted her to know. He was deliberately mysterious, and while he’d offered so few expectations for their behavior, showing them how best to indulge their sins, and Caroline wondered why.

Compulsion was no idle tool, and though it had opened the world to so many whims, greed was a risk she was not willing to indulge in. Not yet. Humans might easily be bent to her will, but she would do well to remember the lessons she’d learned and been taught in her handful of years. Avarice could leave her the fattened calf for others as easily she could take from those less wise. She was not the only creation her sire had made, and from his offhand comments, age seemed to make a difference in strength.

Better then, to teach herself control, to master every instinct and then indulge only when she controlled every aspect of the experience. She had no intention of letting the gift she had been given control her, not when she’d vowed never again would she have a master except herself.

Never again.

Though she would have to be careful.

Glancing towards the back of the room, she pursed her lips at the trio of men who unknowingly awaited her presence at a table. Caroline recognized two of them from her lessons, though her sire had not introduced her to them. She had not asked to know them, not when she understood how they watched her. Lustful, but stupid.

They thought themselves clever, and the new monster that lived in her bone and marrow that she knew in the back of her throat as hunger, did not approve of their ilk. They’d smelled weak. Eager. It wasn’t her place to judge her sire’s choices, but she’d been certain he’d picked up on her disapproval.

Chosen to be amused rather than offended.

Tonight, the blood that stained their clothing, the scent of sex and death that lingered on their skin did nothing endure her to them. Mixing those pleasures when you had so little control told her that her original assessment had been correct. Wrinkling her nose, Caroline wondered if leaving would be a mark against her.

She was not given the chance to find out.

Awareness and warning prickled down her spine, and Caroline turned to find her sire watching her from the doorway. His lips curled at the edges, a hint of dimple catching in one cheek, and he strode forward to meet her. “Good evening, love. I must say, your new life suits you.”

His eyes dropped from her face to skim her figure, the dimple deepening. Caroline gave the endearment little meaning, he dolled out charm too easily for it to be sincere. But even knowing some of his truth, the impact of him was unavoidable. Her sire was a feast for her eyes and the monster she had become did not find the violence of him unbecoming.

However, the compliment was sincere, so she allowed a smile to touch her lips. Her new dress was well made, but not so expensive to draw attention, but it was pretty and hers. It had been a very long time since she owned her own clothes.

“Thank you.”

His gaze swept back to her face as he approached and offered her his arm. She took it, because she would not be accused of not having manners, and he sighed, head angling as if letting her into his confidence. She took no stock in that either.

“It is a pity that the same cannot be said for the rest.”

Klaus, Caroline had learned, was as mercurial with his violence as he was with his mercy. He’d plucked her from the street as easily as he’d left others to die, had shown her the fastest way to a man’s heart with dimples and bloody clothes. Tonight, there was something in his voice, a hint of roughness that did not bode well for any of them and she had no intention of being a target for that rage.

“They seem to lack some... subtlety,” she agreed.

His smile shifted to a sort of dangerous amusement. “Let’s find out just how little they have exhibited, shall we?”

Very aware that this was not her choice, Caroline merely hummed in agreement and let him escort her to the table. Violence did not frighten her, but something about the way he moved, the pleasant tilt of his lips, was unnerving.

“Hello, lads. It seems that you have enjoyed yourselves.”

They went still in front of her, a court very aware of its king’s displeasure, for all that he was smiling. Lifting Caroline’s hand from his arm, he brushed her knuckles lightly with his lips. “Do make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”

In the next heartbeat, he’d twisted and was suddenly holding a twitching heart in his left hand. Caroline paused from where she’d gathered her skirts to settle, her heart a thump in her throat at the ease, the speed of his strike. But it wasn’t exactly fear that danced beneath her skin, though wariness had her watching him carefully. Settling the heart casually on the table, he motioned for her to sit on the empty seat.

She sat.

Reaching into his pocket, Klaus removed a handkerchief and meticulously began to clean his hand. “It really is so much easier to deal with baby vampires when the sire bond exists, but I suppose you can’t win them all.” His smile widened at the sudden, sharp stink of fear. “I am a benevolent ruler, but there are some lines that will not be tolerated being crossed. Leaving bodies where they can be found by anyone, even during a plague, will not be allowed. Is that understood?”

Next to them, the body finally toppled to the floor, as if it had finally understood it was dead. Caroline stared at the heartless vampire, considered how quickly his life had been snuffed out, and she arranged her skirts to avoid the growing puddle of blood while wondering why she was here. She had not been so careless with her teeth or metaphorical cock.

Across from her, the remaining vampires stammered their understanding, but when her eyes returned to her sire’s face, it was to find him watching her. There was something about his expression, the set of his jaw, that left her very certain that this mess was much as a message for her as for them, and she worked through the whys. The point of this little warning. This show.

She had no care for these men, and she was certain, neither did her sire. Even with this warning, it was likely the remaining two vampires would be dead within the week. Klaus had never struck her as anything but calculating, even in his whims, and it dawned on her that perhaps that was his point.

Her sire wanted her to see just how easily he would snuff the life from his creations, should it be necessary. Should they make it necessary... Vampires were monsters, but they were hidden, tucked carefully between the shadows of the nights and humanity’s soft dreams of safety.

But if they did, he might offer a quick, clean death. That message was for these men. Her message was tangled in the quickness of the death, the way he had offered her his arm before leading her to this little slaughter. He might find her amusing, might be indulgent of her opinions, but she could not count on that indulgence to save her.

Caroline tipped her in silent acknowledgement of his message. Betrayal, she knew without it being said, would have far more dire consequences.

Link: A03

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #darker than usual #please mind the tags #thank you!

[aros001]

First time read through light novel vol. 4. Random thoughts.

So this is where mayonnaise came into the story. I still remember my sheer utter confusion over the mayo bath in the Memory Snow OVA, having no memory of the anime ever bringing up any of Subaru's love for the condiment. As a positive for him at least, it's cool that Emilia apparently really likes it too and that he's the one who figured out how to makes the stuff in this new world.

“The lad’s eyes interested me ever so slightly. They said he has crossed the boundary of death. Many come close to the line, stop, and draw back, but...” Wilhelm lowered his lids in thought as his words trailed off. “Those are the eyes of one who has crossed once, no...several times, and returned. I know of no such being. You might say I was compelled by curiosity.”

How would he know what the eyes of someone like that look like if he's never met anyone like that before Subaru?

“Listen and be amazed, look and be astounded! Behold, the ultimate combat technique—RoSciPer!!”

“What is that...thing?! You did not inform me such a hand was possible!”

“Shut up! I didn’t mention it, but it’s your fault you didn’t ask! That part is rock, this here’s scissors, and over there is paper! In other words, my hand’s beaten your rock!”

That is so freaking petty. But on the other hand, maybe Priscilla would respect him for it anyway? I could see her having no problem with winning however you can, even if it's by being unfair and tricking your opponent, as long as you keep your own pride.

“—But I wonder what Master Roswaal is thinking?”

She inclined her head slightly as she voiced her doubts about the instructions her master had left that morning.

“He said, ‘Do not stand in Subaru’s way no matter what Lady Emilia may say to you.’”

It was as if he’d anticipated Subaru’s actions and had instructed her accordingly. She also wondered why he was valuing Subaru’s opinion above Emilia’s.

Hmm...now that's curious.

“That’s right, bro. It’s been eighteen years since I got summoned here. I lost my arm around the same time... Right around the age you are right now.”

Just like that, Al confessed to Subaru that he’d experienced the same situation.

...Wait...WHAT?! If this was in the anime then I completely forgot about it because holy sh*t, Al is from another world too?! And according to him he arrived 18 years ago and was about the same age as Subaru is (and Subaru is roughly 17, isn't he?). No idea if he can Return By Death and if he can he might have the same penalty for trying to talk about it as Subaru does, so he obviously couldn't talk about it, but this is a huge deal. It's a great bit to add to Subaru's story, showing off what could have happened to him and what he could still eventually become. It probably deepened his obsession with Emilia a little bit too, since she's the main difference between him and Al.

“Unfortunately, Lady Emilia, this is not the time or place for you to argue. If all the facts become clear, Subaru will be staying here...for a very, veeery long time.”

Okay, Roswaal f**king knows and is planning something.

They talk about a Dragon Tablet handed down by Holy Dragon Volcanica, which has given predictions and warnings about great disasters that did actually occur. Naturally, my first thoughts are that this Holy Dragon (or whoever wrote the tablet) might have had abilities like Subaru's RBD and that he'll have his own role to play.

Felt might be a long lost princess of the royal family that was wiped out in a strangely specific plague and Subaru met both her and Emilia first in this world because she stole for her the thing that proved she was a worthy candidate for being a Dragon Maiden. It kind of feels like the Witch of Envy is like the Force from Star Wars with how well she made the destinies and chance encounters line up.

I never really liked Ferris that much, and not because he's a cat-boy trap. It's more the way he talks. I like things that are cute but I can't stand things that are cutesy.

While Crusch's idea for the future of the kingdom is nothing that should be rushed, and most certainly should be done with care as not to piss off the dragon, I get where she's coming from, that they are too reliant on the dragon's blessings and not doing enough for themselves. It's a classic argument I've seen plenty in superhero stories. There's no denying the heroes have done a lot of good but when the people become too dependent on them and if/when the heroes can't help anymore, what's going to happen then? It's one of my favorite plot points in My Hero Academia, where common citizens thinking "It's fine, a hero will show up and take care of it." and not helping where they should have eventually gave rise to one of their world's most dangerous and infamous supervillains.

“A-and now you make threats. These words and this show of force convey, ‘Do as I say or you shall be an icicle.’ If this is not blackmail, what is...?!”

Then, Emilia wholeheartedly affirmed his suspicions.

“—Yes, I am threatening you.” She continued, “I shall make my case to the esteemed members of the Council of Elders once more. My name is Emilia. I spent a long time in the Great Forest of Elioor, the World of Eternal Frost, and am served by Puck, the Great Spirit that governs fire mana. I am a silver-haired half-elf. The people of the nearby villages called me...”

Emilia paused, surveying the faces of the Council of Elders on the dais.

“...the Freezing Witch, born in the Frozen Forest.”

Holy sh*t, I am way more into Emilia's character here than I was in the anime! That was awesome! Her whole speech after too and her finally being given some respect. It's not like she didn't have any personality or agency in the anime. It's not like she could have just been replaced by a sexy lamp and nothing would be different like you could with the heroines of other series. But she definitely feels like she has more here, like there's more fire to her. Like hot damn, even I want to see her become queen now!

...And then Subaru opens his mouth again...and promptly inserts his foot.

Yeah, I suppose Subaru white knighting for Emilia in front of all the actual white knights is probably one of the more infamous scenes of the series, huh? It's one of those weird things where you feel you know what Subaru should have done but at the same time, if he hadn't snuck into the castle, we wouldn't have gained his relationships with Priscilla and Al or have seen as much of the meeting as we did. It's good for the story and eventually it's good for character development but it's hard not to wince a little at everything Subaru does in this part, especially because he himself reflects and feels guilty at a few points about how badly he could have messed everything up for Emilia and Roswaal.

I've thought a lot more about Subaru's white knighting ever since I watched the anime, mostly because of characters like Motoyasu from Rising of the Shield Hero and Mitsurugi from Konosuba; two LN series I read before this one. Chivalry isn't a bad thing. Trying to stand up and fight for someone you care about isn't a bad thing. But like Emilia points out, she never asked Subaru to do any of that for her. She didn't want him to do any of that for her. In fact, he deliberately went against what she did ask of him to go and do all of that. With these three characters, the problem with their white knighting is that they're doing it with no regard to what the person they're white knighting for actually wants. In many cases, like Emilia also points out, Subaru wasn't really doing it for her. He was doing it for himself. To make himself feel better. To place himself closer to her. And she's not exactly wrong that their relationship seems to be entirely just two people repaying their debts to each other, even though she has no idea what debt Subaru feels he owes her.

The ironic thing is, if Subaru wanted to get closer to Emilia and have value to her, he already found a way to do that in one of his previous lives. On his second or third loop in the mansion arc, Puck told him that Emilia doesn't have a lot of experience with friends and really wants some. During that loop, Subaru and Emilia are just hanging out, enjoying each other's company, laughing. It's made clear she does genuinely like having him around. Just being her friend was enough for her and there's still plenty of ways her friend could have helped her through such a trying time, without embarrassing her in front of everyone in the castle or making her think it's her fault he keeps getting hurt.

I think Subaru's big problem, and what he needs to grow out of, isn't that he's an idiot (though he can certainly do dumb things) but rather that he's immature. Not immature like he's a child (though sometimes...) but immature in that he hasn't developed enough to properly react to certain situations. He was a shut-in who constantly skipped school. He doesn't have a lot of experience with other real people and doesn't know how to properly interact with them, defaulting too often to what he's seen in fantasy stories. I think that's a problem both he and Rem share to an extent. They don't know what it means to be in love. That's not to say that Subaru's love for Emilia isn't real or that Rem's love for Subaru isn't real. Rather that they don't know what to do with it. They don't know how they should act towards the person they're in love with or how to show their love, so too often they default to either obsession or devotion or both. And so if they want to have a healthy, happy relationship with the person they love, they have to acknowledge and address their own immaturity and basically grow up a bit.

Nice little detail that Julius beat on Subaru to keep any other knights from going after and possibly killing him...and because he was at least a little annoyed by Subaru's words. He's a good guy...but still human.

And again with Roswaal working things behind the scenes. He gave orders for Subaru (or at least a servant bearing his family crest like Subaru would be) to be allowed to pass into the castle. I imagine he did have a back-up plan for if Subaru never showed up but the man definitely knows or suspects something about Subaru and/or what's going on with him. I mean, benefit of the doubt, if he doesn't know about RBD, from the outside it does look like Subaru has some kind of prophetic abilities, as twice now he's known about future events that would have destroyed everything Roswaal's been working towards and used that knowledge to prevent them. Making things easier for Subaru to act just in case he had another "vision" would have been in Roswaal's best interest. He might be thinking Subaru is like the Holy Dragon, thus Roswaal has his own personal Dragon Tablet. But I can't help but feel things go deeper than that. At the very least I'm glad Subaru's outburst and Roswaal trying to smite him with fire was apparently part of the plan. 1, Roswaal is just a really fun character and I don't want to lose that, but 2, he definitely seems like a guy you don't want to have against you.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gontd5/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_4/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

[fallenfurther]

A break in the clouds - Part 5

Finally gotten round to writing up and reading through the next few chapters of this one. It’s almost finished (I might actually get this off my WIP list soon!). I hope you all enjoy the next island resident’s interaction with Scott’s son. 

Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Grandma 

*********

Jeff

It had been an emotional rescue. Jeff had tried to help as much as possible. John, though more accurately EOS, had fed him tasks when they came up, but the feeling of helplessness had still settled within him. He had relayed information to the local authorities, reviewed visual data that required human eyes, and second checked all her communications. It had been scraps, leaving Jeff plenty of time to watch the drone footage and listen to his boys communicate to one another. They were professional, continuing on despite the harrowing sights they endured. It was an aspect of the job he wished he could take away. They weren’t always keen, but Jeff had made a counselling service available to the whole family, fully vetted and qualified to deal with their circumstances. It was always there if they needed someone to talk to and help them process the events of any rescue. He hoped at least one of them would be using it after what had occurred today.

Slipping the stylus from its place, Jeff signed off on the mission report, then sent it to the GDF and local authorities with a sigh. His head fell into his hands and he closed his eyes against the world. Taking deep breaths, he tuned into the world around him, letting the sounds take over his mind. The gentle hum of the air-conditioning unit, an electrical buzz from somewhere to his left and the soft padding of bare feet. Eyes still closed; Jeff zeroed in on the familiar sound. Only one of his sons would creep around the place barefoot and no matter how much Gordon tried, he hadn’t been this light-footed in years. It was a sound that transported Jeff back years. Before he could open his eyes, the clatter of metal hitting the wood of his desk filled the room.

“Vroom! Vroom!”

A smile crossed Jeff’s face as he raised his head, putting the stylus down in the process. A small head bobbled along his desk, just ahead of the toy plane that was being forced along the table by a small hand. There was a small pause in the plane’s taxiing.

“Vroom! Vroom!”

Jeff pushed his chair back as he stood, allowing those young blue eyes to meet his. A glance at the clock confirmed Jeff’s suspicions. A small guilty smile crossed the boy’s face as he continued to roll the plane down the makeshift runway. A few quick strides around his desk, and Jeff slipped his hands under the boy’s armpits, scooping his grandson up into his arms. There was a small grumble from the child.

“You should be asleep.”

“Fly plane.”

“It’s naptime, young man.”

“No.”

The boy shook his head vigorously, taking Jeff back to a very similar time in Kansas, when a similarly aged Scott had refused to nap. If his grandson was anything like his father, then it was not going to be easy to get the boy down again. The slight shift in time zones never helped the child either. Carrying the boy to his room, Jeff placed him on the plane covered bedspread. Immediately, his grandson went to climb down. Jeff grabbed the boy and sat in the bed with him, only to be given a pout when the plane was removed from the child’s hands.

“My plane.”

“We can play with the plane later. Now, we sleep.”

The little boy was having none of it, and started wriggling away from Jeff, who just wasn’t quick enough. A small knee landed in a sensitive area, stealing Jeff’s breath with a groan.

“Careful there, boy.”

Jeff wheezed as his grandson paused in his escape for a second to peer at the older man. Twisting to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing the mild throbbing to the back of his mind, Jeff made a grab for the boy. He caught him, but not before the plane was back in the toddler’s hands. He looked down on the child.

“You aren’t going to go to sleep, are you?”

“No.”

Jeff sighed. His grandson would be a pain later on, having not had a good nap, something Scott really didn’t need right now. The least Jeff could do was give Scott some time to rest.

“If you’re not going to sleep, why don’t we play planes quietly in here?”

At least Scott wouldn’t worry about his son’s whereabouts if he came to check on him. The lad grinned as Jeff let him wiggle out of his grip. He watched as the child pottered over to the box of toys and dug into it for another plane. Jeff had had a similar box of planes as a child, a passion his mother had a hand in, even if it was only a hobby for her. Scott had shared the interest, which he was now sharing with the next generation. Not that Jeff could blame him. With the most technologically advance machines taking off around him, it would be surprising if his grandson didn’t pick up even the smallest interest. Carefully Jeff lowered himself to the floor, finding a comfortable position against the bed. A plastic GDF flyer was brought over and placed in his hands before his grandson darted off to start circling the room. A few energetic laps later and the boy finally realised Jeff hadn’t moved. Pausing mid-flight and pointing at the flyer, the child made his demand.

“Fly Grampa. Fly.”

Jeff responded with a serious face and a nod. Carefully repositioning the plane’s engines so they pointed down, he slowly made the plane rise in a hover. This seemed to be exactly what the boy wanted as he continued his loop around the room before turning and heading straight for Jeff.

“Fire!”

The boy blew raspberries, which had Jeff biting his lip to stop from laughing. His grandson could be so damn cute. As his grandson approached, Jeff played dutifully, pretending to dodge all the bullets being fired at the flyer. He swung it this way and that until it was time to admit defeat. Jeff spiralled the flyer and crashed it into the floor.

“Bang!”

His grandson’s face lit up with glee as her flew his plane away at a slower pace than before. A yawn stretched across the child’s face and Jeff smiled. He knew it was just a matter of time now. His grandson continued, rolling the toy along a chest of draws before slowly plodding back to Jeff and falling to his knees. The boy was visibly fighting to stay awake now, the last burst of energy ebbing away. The flyer was retrieved and both planes were wafted about in a slow dogfight. Another large yawn stilled the boy’s body. His arms fell to his sides and the toys clicked as they hit the ground. Large sleepy blinks broke the boy’s gaze, and the flyer was released so he could rub his eye. Jeff opened up his arms.

“Come here, son.”

His grandson shuffled forward, and Jeff guided the boy into his lap. His grandson leant against his torso. Wrapping his arms around the boy, he took the plane from the child’s hand and held it up before him. It was an old Spitfire. Jeff spoke softly into the boy’s ear, whispering all the facts he could recall about the plane. He pointed out the guns and explained the colours and symbols. The child’s head had slumped before he had finished the explanation. Quietly placing the toy to the side, Jeff peered down at his grandson. The closed eyes and gentle rise of the chest confirmed he’d fallen asleep.

With the utmost care, Jeff lifted the boy and tucked him into his bed, slipping the blanket up and over his small body. He knelt for a minute, taking in the peaceful form on his grandson. He heart was full of love, not only for his grandson but for the sons he’d put to bed so many times, so many years ago. Brushing his fingers through the child’s hair and away from his eye, Jeff leant forward and planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

Jeff’s body complained as he stood, age and time in deep space taking its toll on his joints. Turning to leave, he paused at the sight of Scott leaning against the doorframe. There had been no sound of footsteps that Jeff could remember so he had no idea how long he had been observed. Scott just nodded and Jeff headed out, turning on the forgotten baby monitor so they would be alerted when the child woke. It was only after he had softly closed the door, that Scott spoke.

“Thank you, Dad.”

It was barely a whisper, but the relief in that man’s exhausted eyes was clear. Jeff placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. The man was a great father. Jeff was so proud of him.

“No problem, son. I suggest you have a nap also. He’ll have a new bout of energy once he’s awake.”

Scott sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. Jeff knew how tiring parenting could be, and Scott had a demanding job on top of all that. His son had struggled to sleep before he’d become a father, so Jeff was happy to see Scott nod and head towards his own room, yawning and stretching with each step.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #tracy baby #scott tracy #scott's son #naptime #not wanting to sleep #pilot in training

[jinmukangwrites]

@liccy, sliding into my dms, giving me a list of prompts with the demand I wrote more Dragged Away like some sort of mad lad. Liccy, I love you so much, I hope this is proof of that lmao. I actually sort of forgot about Dragged Away again, but every time I remember it I am reminded of all the deliciously sinister plans I've made for it. This is longer than a drabble, because a continuation for Dragged Away requires it. I'll add a keep reading later. Enjoy liccy ya sly funky artist you. 💕

89) “Why hasn’t anyone looked for me yet?” “Because they don’t care about you like I do.”

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule doesn't know how long he stays like that. Laying there. Pathetically. Curled up as much as the chan and shackle will allow, wallowing in his fear and misery. Shivering the in cold of the cell.

He hoped not for too long, but his frightened mind doesn't look always allow him to keep perfect track of time. Eventually, he does manage to remember that his brain is connected to a body. With a deep breath that's come from years of practice, he calms his heart down and forced his legs to move.

He's vulnerable laying down like this. He needs to not be so vulnerable.

He breathes. And breathes. Connecting strings in his mind that he hasn't thought he needed anymore. He thought he was done with all this blood sacrificing nonsense. Last time it was horrifying, but he survived it. He lived. Shoved it under the rug like the trauma was nothing more than dust and tried to move on.

And he's back to this again.

He cannot be vulnerable. He has to be calm. It doesn't bother him.

He's not scared at all.

He eventually finds himself sitting on his hind end, knees drawn up slightly. He wishes he could stand up, but the clinking of his short chain reminds him of how easily he was defeated last time he was standing was much as the chain allowed. It will do him nothing to stand up, haunched over like some whethered old laborer. At least, from sitting in this position, he can kick.

Shivers wrack his frame and he glares down at the stone floor below him. Six days. Six days and whatever this blood moon is will come and they will use his blood to bring back Calamity Ganon. A monster... alike to Hyrule's own version of Ganon. Hyrule doesn't want to be the cause of any version of Ganon returning to life. He'd much rather die, in fact.

And it's just... It's shitty that dying is the issue here!

He sits there, ignoring the hardness of the ground on his tailbone, and hopes the others are coming.

And quickly.

-o-o-o-o-

Hours must pass.

He's not sure, especially since the only contact to the outside world he has from his little radius in the middle of the floor is the bars in the prison cell door. But they don't lead outside. All he can see from here is brick, sandstone wall and the flickering of a torch. There's no window here. No sunlight. No way to be sure.

But, regardless, hours must pass before something changes.

It's when he's finally been forced to shift so he's cross legged on the ground in an attempt to relieve some pressure on his tailbone that shadows cross outside the door's window. Quickly, Hyrule untangles his legs and glares at the door as it opens with a heavy sliding of metal.

The figure that walks in is just like the rest. It's impossible to tell them apart, but maybe that's not so bad. It's impossible to tell apart normal monsters. Maybe, if these whackos all look alike, that lingering worry that they're human won't bug him so much. The soldier is carrying a tray with some sort of mush in it, and they set it down on the ground just out of Hyrule's reach before straightening and bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet.

"Well?" The monster with a human voice asks.

And Hyrule realizes that they won't bring the food any closer. Hyrule glares, tempted to argue that he's not hungry because for all he knows it could be poisoned or laced with something... But his stomach growls and he thinks that if they wanted to poison him, they could easily do so without having to drug his food. Besides, he should save his strength.

With as much dignity as he can muster, he scoots over as far as his chain will allow and uses the heel of his foot to catch onto the edge of the tray, watching the (Yuta? Yaiba? Gah whatever) solder wearily. They don't make a move to attack him when he's stretched out vulnerable like this. He quickly curls back anyways, dragging the tray with him and glaring the entire time.

"I don't have all day," the soldier says as Hyrule stares down at the mush wearily. He sighs and dips two fingers into the thick mixture, wincing slightly at the texture, and brings out a scoop. He takes a deep breath and... it's not that bad actually. The texture is just as icky as he thought, but the taste is banana. Kind of pleasant, mushy weirdness aside. Better than what he was expecting.

He quickly eats the rest of the banana mixture, licking his fingers and slowly placing the bowl back into the tray when he's all done. When the soldier tilts his head and taps his foot, Hyrule sighs and kicks the tray out so it's out of his range. The soldier beds down, picks up the tray, gives a mock solute, and then walks out of the cell with all the swagger and confidence of a rich moblin in a cave.

The cell door closes and Hyrule scoffs, curling slightly and licking between his gums and cheek to get the rest of the flavor stuck back by his molars.

Any minute now guys. A rescue soon would be great.

-o-o-o-o-

More hours pass, and Hyrule cannot for the life of him figure out how much passes exactly. He busies himself picking at the shackle, then the chain, then the plate of metal in the ground that the chain is connected to. There's no imperfections. No wiggle room. His wrist feels a little rubbed now, and the corners of the metal itches. His tailbone hates him. Sleep is tugging down his eyelids but the constant anxiety in his chest making it impossible to even flirt with the idea. He looks at the back of his hand where the Triforce should be and he wonders if it's left him without letting him know first. Not that it matters, he's always known he was unworthy. He's done more harm than good it feels in his time. He's killed Ganon but the world fell further apart anyway.

He sighs and picks at the shackle again.

-o-o-o-o-

They bring more banana mush just as hunger is beginning to tug at his stomach again. They don't talk and Hyrule doesn't talk to them. The only difference between this time and the last is that this soldier doesn't force him to lower himself by tugging on the chain like a dog to get the food. They, instead, walk right up and drop it, causing some of the mixture to splash out. Hyrule remains stubbornly silent as he eats what's left in the bowl, and instead of handing the bowl back like the solider must be expecting, he hurls the bowl past them and out the cell door.

The soldier smacks him across the head, not painfully so but in a way that shows their annoyance, before they pick up the tray and practically stalk out with steam rising from their shoulders. The door clicks shut and Hyrule tries not to let himself panic at the grumbling words he hears as they walk out.

"We'll see about him getting any food tomorrow."

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule's bored and hungry. Enough so that he hardly even noticed that he passed out until he was blinking awake on his side. He slowly and cautiously rises so he's sitting again, wincing as his spine protests and his wrist twinges. His stomach growls and all he can do is sit there and trail his finger in the dust of the stone until something happens.

Nothing does. He's beginning to think the threat was real, and if today is a new day he won't be getting any food during it.

-o-o-o-o-

"Why hasn't anyone looked for me yet," Hyrule whispers to himself, staring at the picture he's spent quite a long time drawing out in the dust. It's all messy lines, but the face does look vaguely like Legend. He misses Legend.

"Because they don't care about you like I do," a familiar voice says. Hyrule's breath catches and he looks up with wide eyes before he can stop himself. Standing outside the window of the cell door is the same old white mask, but the voice... the voice he knows. It's the same one who came to him before and forced him to kneel while he called Hyrule pathetic and week. He'll never forget that voice.

Hyrule forces up something that feels fake but looks like courage and glares at the enemy. The man just snickers and opens the cell door, holding a tray with a bowl. Hyrule's stomach growls against his will and Hyrule's sure by the way the soldiers wiggles his shoulders ever so slightly, he's smirking under that mask.

"Hope you're hungry," he says. Then, with a cruel voice, "because I don't actually have anything."

The tray and bowl clatters to the ground and nothing splatters out. Hyrule curls his hands into fists.

"They'll come," he says, that fake-but-feels-like-courage in his voice.

The soldier scoffs and kicks the bowl to the side. "They would have by now if they cared. That damn hero knows where this place is, and our patrols haven't seen anyone yet. Perhaps they're just caught up?"

Hyrule snarls and goes to stand up, forgetting about the short chain until he's stopped short. "They'll come," he repeats, not allowing the words of the enemy to affect him. "And you care for nothing."

"Oh, but I do care for you, you little mouse," the soldier says, folding his arms. "You're useful to me. But to them? You've just proven yourself that you can't protect yourself long enough to not get captured from cult fanatics. They don't care about you. I'm the only one who will be caring about you until the Blood Moon rises once again and our master returns."

"It's not real. My blood won't being anything back," Hyrule bluffs, hoping it's convincing. "Whoever told you are lying."

"Eh, either way, in four days you'll be dead," the soldier says, shrugging. "So it doesn't really matter, am I right?"

Hyrule doesn't indulge him with an answer.

"My point exactly. Now," he claps his hands together, "look, as much as you think we're cruel, we actually want to make sure you're not half dead already from starvation and thirst when your heroic sacrifice comes around. We gotta make sure you're blood will be nice and healthy when we spill it, so you gotta work with us kid."

Hyrule feels something in his face twitch. Anger curling in his gut right next to the anxiety.

"We can get some steak in here even, if ya want, all you gotta do is apologise."

"For what," Hyrule grinds out.

"For throwing the bowl, silly!"

"Fuck you."

Perhaps the bravest and stupidest thing Hyrule's said in the past two days—Hylia, has it really been 48 hours?

But for all his (fake) bravery, the soldier just shrugs. "Alright, we'll talk tomorrow."

He then turns away and walks out the cell, leaving Hyrule to slowly sit back down and lower his head into his hands. Alone to do nothing but ignore his pulsing tailbone and smarting wrist.

Alone to sit and fight off terrified tears.

#linked universe #hero of hyrule #drabble fic #lu drabble fic #dragged away fic #jin writed #liccy #lovely lovely liccy #💕 #hope you like the cliffy

[jupitermelichios]

DC: The High-School AU: The Series: The Staff (the musical)

So I finally cast the school staff and teachers for my DC High School AU, which I thought some of you would have some fun with! I took the subject list from a fairly fancy looking private school, because only schools you have to pay for have their subject lists online, so I’m probably offering way more classes than your average state school, but hey, it’s my AU and I wanted to cram in as many supervillains, obscure heroes, and bad jokes as possible.

Admin & Staff

Principle - Amanda Waller

Deputy Principle & Treasurer - Noah Kuttler (the Calculator)

Nurse - Myra Mason (she was Dr Midnite’s nurse and love interest in the 40s & 50s, then got fridged, but I’m unfridging her and giving her a job with much better survival prospects)

Councillor - Ethel Peabody (she’s a psychiatrist from the Gotham TV show, and also in my headcanon, Amanda Waller’s sister)

Librarian - Stanislaus Johns (The Librarian. I considered bookworm for this job but he’s literally called the Librarian, what was I supposed to do, not use him?)

Admin Staff - Laura Conway (Superman supporting cast and occaisional vampire), Mabel Martin (Riddler’s secretary), Theresa Collins (Goldstar, also Booster Gold’s secretary)

Business

Loren Jupiter (aka Mr Jupiter the richest and therefore most thrustworthy man in the world) - Business 101, Business Law, Entrepreneurship

Wesley Dodds (Sandman) - Business Communications

Annabeth Chamberlain (Brimstone) - Marketing, Hospitality & Tourism (she doesn’t work in tourism, but I figure anyone who can waitress while also having the power to set people on fire and damn them to hell and keeps her job probably knows a whole lot about customer service)

Family & Consumer Science

Miss Tribb (Lobo’s childhood teacher who inexplicably survived the extinction of their species) - Childhood Developement, Early Childhood Education

Neil Richards (The Mad Mod) - Texiles/Sewing, Fashion

Tenzil Kem (Matter-Eater Lad) - Food & Nutrition

Finance

Noah Kuttler (The Calculator) - Personal Finance

Foreign Languages

Matron Bertinelli (Nu52 Huntress, who I’m declaring a sepperate character and the aunt of pre-52 Huntress because they’re radically different characters and I like both of them) - ASL, Italian

Chang Jie-Ru (Nu52 Yo-Yo) - Chinese, AP Chinese

Yolanda Montez (Wildcat II) - Spanish, AP Spanish

Barbara Minerva (Cheetah) - Latin

Health Sciences

Myra Mason - Emergency Medical Responder training

Charles McNider (Dr Midnite) - Anatomy & Physiology, Health Class

IT

Brian Durlin (Savant) - Computer Programming, Web Dev

Jennifer Lyn-Hayden (Jade) - Digital Art 101

Arnold Wesker (Ventriloquist) - 3D Animation, 3D Graphics (I don’t know why but the idea of Wesker as an animator just tickled me. Obviously his real passion is stop-motion, but he learnt 3D because there were more jobs)

English (the fancy private school called this ‘language arts’ which is so prentious it makes me feel slightly nauseous)

Wesley Dodds (Sandman) - English Language, AP English Language

Rac Shade (Shade the Changing Man) - English Literature, AP English Literature

Chloe Sullivan (the worst character in the Smallville TV show, a hotly contested position) - English Language, Communications 101, supervises the School Paper and the Yearbook

Shelly Gaynore (The Whip III) - Englist Literature, Creative Writing

Basil Karlo (Clayface) - Intro to Shakespeare

Nick Scratch (officially his supervillain name is just Scratch, but I refuse to consider that a code-name, looking at you Drake) - Communications 102: Public Speaking

Mathematics (which has a 100% villain make-up, which seems accurate from what I remember of high-school maths)

Noah Kuttler (The Calculator, because I think I’m funny) - Pre-Calc, Calculus, AP Calculus

Harlan Graves (The Underbroker) - Stats, Algebra 1, Algebra 2

Angelo Bend (Angle Man, becuase I know I’m funny) - Geometry, Trigonometry

PE (I realise this is probably too many PE teachers but there are a lot more caonical althetes than just about any other job in the DCU except maybe scientist)

Lawrence Crock (Sportsmaster, you knew this was coming) - Gym, Weight Training, coaches Baseball, Basketball, Tennis & Hockey

Lisa Snart (Golden Glider) - joint-coaches Cheerleading, coaches the Drill Team, Wrestling

Randy Hanrahan (Stallion) - PE, joint-coaches Cheerleading & Cross-Country, coaches Football

William Everett (Amazing Man) - PE, joint-coaches Cross-Country, coaches Track & Field

Matron Bertinelli (Huntress, sort of) - coaches Soccer & gymnastics

Performing Arts

Lisa Snart (Golden Glider) - Dance

Hartley Rathaway (Pied Piper) - Music 101, Music Theory, Composition, teaches Guitar & Percussion

Isaac Bowin (The Fiddler) - Music 101, AP Music Theory, leads Jazz Band, Orchestra, Marching Band

Siobhan Smyth (Silver Banshee) - part-time, leads the Choir and teaches singing

Basil Karlo (Clayface) - Theatre, Theatre 101

Simon Trent (Grey Ghost) - Theatre, Theatre 101, Film Studies

Ted Kord (Blue Beetle) - Theatre Tech

Mary Louise Dahl (Baby-Doll, from B:TAS) - Film Studies, Video Production

Betty Bates (Lady-at-Law, who is technically owned by DC now due to corporate buy-outs) - Debate

Science (do you have any idea how hard it is to pin down areas of specialisation for comic book scientists? TNT is on this list entirely because he’s the only actual honest-to-god professional chemist I could find)

Kirk Langstrom (ManBat) - Biology, AP Biology

Pamela Isley (Poison Ivy) - Biology, Environmental Science

Thomas “Tex” Thomas (TNT) - Chemistry

Achilles Milo (Professor Milo, again not really much of a code name) - Chemistry, AP Chemistry

Will Magnus (I refuse to even dignify it as a code-name) - Physics, Earth Sciences

Ray Palmer (The Atom) - Physics, AP Physics

Adam Strange (DC is just doing this to fuck with me, personally) - Astronomy

Social Studies & Humanities

Barbara Minerva (Cheetah) - World History

Maxie Zeus (ffs) - World History, AP World History (fun fact, Maxie was canonically just a normal history teacher before he got lightning powers, became convinced he was Zeus incarnate, and set out to become a criminal, making him my favourite DC mobster by a country mile)

Terry Long (aka one of the only characters to really deserve to get fridged) - US History, AP European History

Eobard Thawne (every code-name he has is stupid, but lets just go with Reverse-Flash as the least awful option) - US History, AP US History

Nick Scratch - US Government, AP US Government, AP Comparative Politics

Rex Tyler (Hourman) - AP Art History

Magdalene Kyle-Burton (Sister Zero, she’s a sometimes-nun and a sometimes-sister to Catwoman) - Comparative Religion

Michael Carter (Booster Gold) - Economics, AP Microeconomics, AP Macroeconomics

Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) - Psychology (there is exactly one heroic psychiatrist in all of comics, and I’d already used Dr Fate elsewhere. Scarecrow seemed like the least bad option of the remaining pool for being around children, and he does at least have teaching experience)

Adam Strange - Sociology

Betty Bates (Lady-at-Law) - Law

Richard Occult/Rose Psychic (it’s complicated, lets just say Dr Occult and leave it at that) - part-time, Criminal Justice

Technology & Engineering

Ted Kord (Blue Beetle) - Electronics, CAD, Woodworking

John Henry Irons (Steel) - Engineering, Metalworking

Will Magnus - Robotics

Visual Arts

Linda Lee/Danvers (she’s Supergirl, but I’m making her a different character from Kara Danvers/Kent because the DCU is really short on artists and I needed someone to teach the damn class, although the only thing that really makes her distinct from other supergirls is that she fucked a horse that one time and IDK how that will translate into a personality...) - Ceramics, AP Studio Art: 3D Design, Art 101

Rex Tyler (Hourman) - Graphic Design, Drawing, AP Studio Art: Drawing

Jack Knight (Starman) - Painting, AP Studio Art: 2D Design, Art 101

Jennifer Lyn-Hayden (Jade) - Photography

So there you go - I’ll be honest I still don’t really understand how high-schools in the USA work, and I have no idea what Design studio art even is so I kind of assigned those ones at random, but now it’s done and cannot be changed.

As always this universe is open to prompts so if you want a chapter focussing on any of these characters just drop me an ask or a comment and I’ll see what I can do. Making Dr Occult & Rose Psychic a single gender-fluid person is already on my list to do, since that’s who I thought they were for a longest time when I started reading comics and I’m still kind of annoyed that isn’t canonically what’s going on.

#teen titans fanfiction #amanda waller #ted kord #booster gold #supergirl #john henry irons #will magnus #adam strange #betty bates #ray palmer #maxie zeus #hs au #my fics #my fic #highschool never ends

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Holden Caulfield or Nancy Drew

PART THIRTY-ONE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: nightmares, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of domestic abuse/violence, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 7.5K (this is long for some reason idk lads)

Summary: Jess and Ella return to Stars Hollow for Liz’s baby shower.

“So, how do you feel about artificial intelligence?” Ella asked, unprompted, finishing a drawing of some ducklings feasting on a vulture. Her sketchpad sat to her right on the arm of the couch. She was working with the new theme of opposition.

Jess looked up from his book, his head lying on her lap, and furrowed his brows. “What?”

She shrugged. “I read about some guy in the woods of Montana creating an AI all on his own. I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“How so?” Setting the book on his chest upside-down, Jess glanced at her inquisitively.

Her eyes were still trained on the drawing she was completing with only one hand. “Well, once they gain a more humanoid form, will they assimilate completely into the human race or will they be distinct from us? I mean, will they enact some revenge plot on us or will we coexist peacefully? We’re not the first humans who’ve had to think about this, but it’s the new millennium. Seems like that kinda stuff is closer than ever.”

Breathing a long sigh, Jess let a smirk cross his face. He peeked at his watch, and found it was only half past five. Chris was due home soon, having gone to do some PR business. Matthew was staying at Mabel’s place for the weekend. The apartment, silent save for their voices, was bathed in evening light. It had been warm for a February day, but a cold front was set to arrive very soon.

“It’s not even six yet. And already we’ve arrived at Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” he asked with a doubtful chuckle.

Finally, she did the last bit of shading on her sketch and shut her book, her pencil saving her place. Her smile was small and sardonic. “You mean Blade Runner? Or are you actually insinuating that the book was better than the movie?”

“I’m not insinuating, Stevens. I’m stating a known fact,” he argued flatly.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you ever gonna get some taste?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back.

Ella scoffed. “Says the man who honestly believes Coldplay could be described as an alternative band?”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” Jess deadpanned playfully, picking his book back up.

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Because you’re relentlessly stubborn.”

“On this particular topic?” Ella said, eyebrows raised. “Any sane person would be.”

“‘Sane’ isn’t quite the right word,” Jess muttered, pretending to ignore her.

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then gave a curt nod and snatched the Kesey book from his hands before he could even react. Sitting up instantly, Jess eyed the book where she held it over the arm of the couch. Certainly, it was in his reach, but that wasn’t the point.

“You know this means war, right?” he asked.

“I’m aware,” she replied coolly, mocking. “But you’ll just have to try to come over here and get this back.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged, sighing slightly.

He launched forwards and began tickling her sides. Eyes widening, Ella dropped the book. The paperback fell with a small thud on the cracked hardwood on the other side of the couch, forgotten. Her sketchbook also slipped off the arm of the couch, the pencil falling out and rolling underneath the chair nearby. Jess had gone straight for the jugular. It had only taken sleeping in the same bed with her a few times for him to realize Ella was one of the most ticklish people he had ever encountered. She laughed loudly, openly, throwing her head back. Her hair splayed behind her as she laid her head against one of the throw pillows and Jess ended up on top, straddling her.

“This is what you get for being a book tease, Daria,” he said.

Her smile was wide, hurting her cheeks, as she pleaded through breathless giggles. “Fuck you! Stop!”

After a few more seconds, he obliged, his hands going slack and gripping her sides gently instead. The grin remained on her lips, her cheeks a lively pink. She caught her breath, dreamy eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face. “I hate you, Mariano.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You love me.”

Ella shrugged as Jess leaned in closer to her, breath hot on her face. “Close enough.”

As he went to kiss her, she placed a hand on the back of his neck, cool against his flushed skin. Her lips were soft but firm, needy. She was just wrapping her legs around his waist as he sat up, preparing to lift her up and take her to their bedroom, when Chris walked in. Immediately after tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, he staggered back and clamped his free hand over his eyes.

“Ugh, c’mon guys!” he whined.

Ella gasped and pulled away, hiding her face behind Jess, who turned to his friend with an annoyed stare. About a minute more and they would’ve been in the clear.

“How many times?” Chris continued, glancing through his splayed fingers to ensure it was safe before removing his hand again. “This is a communal living room! Communal!”

“Sorry,” Jess said lightly. “Next time, we’ll hang a sock on the door.”

Ella shoved his shoulder playfully, embarrassed. “Shut up!”

Chris grimaced in distaste but let it slide. He cast a stack of envelopes on the coffee table in front of them before going to hang up his things. “Some mail came.”

Swallowing thickly, Ella climbed off of Jess and began sifting through the mail. Jess watched her go through the envelopes, his chin resting on her shoulder. She tossed a few his way, some bills and some author inquiries.

Only two of them were for her, one being a check for her teacher’s assistant services. The spring semester was going considerably better than the fall, as Ella got the hang of the program. She smiled down at it and picked up her sketchbook again, tucking the check inside and making a mental note to cash it on Monday. Underneath it was a larger envelope, addressed in delicate, handwritten cursive. The return address was for a woman named Carrie from Stars Hollow. For the life of her, she couldn’t produce a face to match the name. Furrowing her brows, she ripped it open and read the stiff card which fell out.

“Hm,” she hummed, beginning to chew at her thumbnail as she looked it over.

“What’s up?” Jess asked absently, flipping through his own pile.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella took a hesitant pause before she spoke. The door shut behind Chris as he disappeared into his own room, and Ella was glad the inquiring ears were gone. “I got invited to Liz’s baby shower.”

“Huh,” Jess chirped, indifferent. “When?”

Her eyes landed on the date and she smirked bitterly. “Tomorrow. What a master at planning, your mother.”

“It’s what she’s famous for,” Jess quipped, finally setting his mail back on the coffee table and meeting her eyes again. “You wanna go? There’s no other plans this weekend, right?”

“I don’t know,” Ella shrugged. “Obviously, you could come with. Maybe catch up with Luke or something. He’s probably not doing so hot since everything with Lorelai. I mean...do you want me to go?”

“Not my decision to make,” he said in a clipped tone. He ran a hand over his mouth and peeked down at the invitation. It was pink and glittery. He snorted a bitter laugh. “If you wanna go, I’ll come with.”

“You have no opinion on this?” she asked. “None at all?”

“Nope,” he answered, shaking his head. “No opinion at all.”

She blew a breath out her nose, eyes calculating, as she read the invitation over again and considered the options. Jess didn’t seem thrilled about it, but didn’t seem enraged either. It was nice they had thought of her at all. And Ella had been worrying about Luke in the back of her mind quite a bit as of late. She’d heard through Lane that Lorelai had somehow ended up marrying Rory’s dad, Christopher, in Paris. Besides, Jess spoke with Liz on the phone at least once a month. They weren’t estranged. It would be good, she told herself. Mature.

“Might as well,” she said with finality, adding her own envelopes to the madness on the coffee table. She would have to grab her lone, neat stack later. “Since they remembered to invite me. Feels like I should go.”

Jess nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed, tugging on her earring. “We can take my car. And we’ll have to stop and get a gift on the way, I guess. But the party’s not until four, so we can definitely swing it. I guess you’ll have to hang out at Luke’s or something while I go?”

“Sure,” Jess said, aloof. “I’ll call him later and let him know we’re coming. We should probably stay with him. There’s no telling what kind of state Liz and TJ’s house is in.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a wise choice.”

“Agreed.” He ran an anxious hand through his hair and straightened up slightly, then seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders. The small smirk reappeared on his lips. “But, in the meantime, you wanna finish what we started?”

Ella grinned wickedly and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the bedroom door. “No time like the present.”

.   .   .

Usually, when Jess emerged from a nightmare, a big gasp brought him immediately back to reality. He would jolt physically as soon as his eyes flew open. But, this time, he found he couldn’t get quite as much of the dry central heating air as he needed when he reentered the waking world. His chest felt tight, as it often did in a bad dream’s aftermath, but his throat also felt impossibly small. His breathing came in short gasps. His heart beat hard against his ribs, making him feel almost nauseous. Though he was sticky with sweat, shivers rolled through his body, making his hands tremble. And for just one moment, he feared he was so lightheaded he would pass out.

Ella didn’t feel his movements so much as hear his shuffling around. When she cracked her eyes open, and blinked away the first few seconds of blurriness, she found him leaning up against the wall behind the bed. His eyes were wide and terrified, and he couldn’t control his breathing despite the hand he held desperately to his chest.

“Whoa, hey, Jess,” she murmured softly.

Sitting up, she immediately went to bring a hand to his shoulder, but he flinched away from her.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, okay?” she told him.

He nodded weakly.

Worry crept up her throat, but she did her best to keep her voice calm. She had seen shades of the same reaction each time he had a nightmare, but it had never been quite so extreme. His pupils had never been blown-out, as she could see in the grayish light of the early morning, and he had never had trouble breathing before.

“What do you need?” she asked, trying to get him to meet her gaze. When he finally did, she could see tears just about to spill over.

“Elle, I...I don’t…” He struggled for words, panting.

“Alright, that’s fine,” she whispered. “It’s fine if you don’t know. Everything is fine, Jess. But let’s just breathe, alright? Breathe with me.”

She took a long, loud breath in through her nose, then let it out through her mouth.

“Do it with me, James Dean. In and out, huh?” she said.

Though he raised a doubtful eyebrow, eventually, he did as she instructed. His hands almost felt numb, pins and needles, but they stopped shaking after a few minutes of slow breaths. He grabbed her hand in his own, squeezing tightly. He wondered instantly why he had withdrawn from her before. The feeling of her skin against his did perhaps more to soothe him than the breathing did.

She offered a tiny smile as he interlaced their fingers, and squeezed back. “Good job, Jess. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

Again, he nodded, more emphatically. There were glistening tear tracks running down his cheeks. He sniffled as his breathing became regular again, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to maintain whatever semblance of control he could.

“You okay?” she asked, watching his muscles begin to ease up.

Releasing her hand, Jess averted his gaze and felt a blush heat his skin. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine.”

Ella said nothing more, instead gently laying him back down. She tugged the covers over them again, though she knew the alarm would probably go off in less than an hour or two. She brought his head to her chest, running her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Wiping some of the dampness from his face with her thumb, she rubbed her free hand up and down over his back.

“One of those dreams, cutie?” she asked quietly.

He hummed in confirmation.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” he said, and she thought she heard his voice becoming watery again.

“Okay,” she replied, soft but resolute. It was the response she had expected, but it seemed worth asking for such an acute reaction.

A calm, comfortable silence passed between them. Outside, the birds were chirping, and the traffic noise had already started. Slats of light snuck through the closed blinds and cast white strips over the gray comforter. Reaching over, Jess began to trace a fingertip over the tattoo on the inside of her left forearm. He did it often with her body art, after having watched her run her hands over her sketches so many times.

“Remind me about this one,” he said softly.

She smiled. He’d asked her more than once after a nightmare. She only had two tattoos so far, though she had plans for a third. Quality meant money, and she was still saving up. Sometimes he asked about the one on her leg, an antique bird cage with an open door. Neither of her tattoos had any color, drawn in a delicate, shaded style by an artist in New Haven. She was talented, and Gil knew her through his sandwich shop connections. She was still apprenticing, making sandwiches to get by before she could open her own shop or get permanently hired at one.

The birdcage had actually been Lane’s idea, after Ella moved in with her. Partially inspired by Keats’s odes, Ella had thought of getting a simple bird tattoo. She’d mentioned it to Lane, who lit up immediately at the mention of a rebellious act, and suggested something a bit different. The metaphor was clear, the tattoo was beautiful. The experience was better than she thought it would be, and she’d gone back for her second only a few months later, on Mother’s Day.

As much as Ella loved the birdcage, the tulip on her arm was her favorite. By the same artist, it had the same style. It was delicate, the bloom near the crook of her elbow and the stem tapering off and disappearing gracefully a little above her wrist.

“When I was a kid,” she began, “my mother had a kickass garden. I always wanted to help her, planting and watering and everything. But, as we all know, I kill everything except cactuses. She gave me a bunch of tulip seeds for my birthday once, and I made them my project. Got some books about flowers from the library, and everything. Only one ended up growing, anyway. But I was proud of it. And my mom was proud of me. And now I remember every time I look at my arm.”

Jess could feel the vibrations of Ella’s raspy voice in her chest, his ear pressed against her t-shirt as he listened. His eyes were getting heavy again, his body stressed from the rude awakening. It made him feel silly, but it had always so easily put him back to sleep. Not having to talk. Just listening to her.

“Pretty sentimental of you, Stevens,” he joked.

She chuckled. “Hypocrite. Love at first sight much?”

“Who am I to deny a law of the universe? Not like I could help it. I saw you and it was done,” he argued impassively.

“Guess I’m just irresistible,” she teased.

“Seems that way.”

Her own eyes fluttered shut. She was warm but not uncomfortable. Cozy, she supposed, was the word for it. Jess on her right side, with his head on her chest, seconds away from snoring.

“Hey, I do love you, Mariano.”

One corner of Jess’s mouth quirked up in a lazy smile, as he dozed despite the uneasiness and embarrassment still sitting in his stomach. “I know, Stevens. Love you back.”

.   .   .

Humming along with the CD, Ella cast nervous glances Jess’s way. His scowl was near permanent as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. The breeze was frigid as the sun beat down on the Connecticut streets. They were only five minutes away from Liz and TJ’s house, and Ella felt far less nostalgia than she was expecting. Fiona and Adam both had plans for the day, and said they simply couldn’t carve out the time to see her. Not one minute. Adam had some project he was spending the weekend at a friend’s house to finish. And Fiona had hair appointments booked solid. Ella knew it was naive to think they would fit in time for her on such a spur of the moment visit, but the disappointment remained. Stars Hollow didn’t look the same to her, feel the same to her, no matter how identical it seemed. Colorful decorations popped up on the sidewalks and there was a banner for some random town holiday above Taylor’s store. She didn’t bother to read it; next weekend was Valentine’s Day and she knew whatever the town was currently celebrating would just be an excuse to drum up business for the actual calendar event. As soon as “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” ended, she pulled her station wagon over to the side, outside Liz and TJ’s modest ranch-style, adorned with lawn ornaments and wind chimes and other kitschy decorations. A bunch of pink balloons streamed from where they were tied to the mailbox, which was shaped like a fish.

“Okay. Out with it,” she said, turning to him just as she pulled the parking brake.

Jess faced her, furrowing his brows. “What?”

“What’s with you?” Ella asked. “You always sing along to Elton John. At least, when it’s just the two of us you do. ‘Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters’ is your favorite. You’re not singing so...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jess said shortly, arms crossed over his flannel.

Ella blew her curtain bangs from her eyes in frustration, the rest of her locks pulled back in a low bun. She pulled the keys from the ignition. “Can we just skip this whole denial part and get to the part where you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“This isn’t the denial part,” Jess said, rolling his eyes. “This is the part where I tell you nothing is wrong because nothing is wrong. Two different parts entirely.”

“I asked you if you still wanted to come after everything that happened last night. And you said, and I quote: ‘Yes.’ And you didn’t want to talk about it, which is totally fine. But you seemed so out of it this morning, and-”

“This isn’t about last night,” he interrupted, a defensive bite in his voice. His muscles were tense.

“Alright,” she nodded, eyebrows raised. “Then what the hell is it about?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I think you might be a worse liar than me,” she mused peevishly. “Just give it up, Mariano. What is wrong?”

“The third degree is getting a little old, Nancy Drew,” he shot back, raising his voice slightly.

She spoke with her hands, a small, bitter, sarcastic smirk on her face. “You know what I think is getting old? The Holden fucking Caulfield act, which I haven’t seen in, like, three years. Now, you obviously don’t wanna be here, jackass. You obviously didn’t want me to go to this thing. Which you could’ve mentioned about two hundred miles ago. But I guess I wasn’t worthy of that courtesy. I’m only your girlfriend and your best friend, but who am I kidding? There’s no one on the planet who could possibly be privy to the thoughts of tortured genius, Jess Mariano! Excuse me!”

Grabbing the present and her purse from the backseat and shutting the driver’s side door behind her harshly, she began trudging up the cobblestone path to the house.

Jess sighed heavily as he got out of the car and leaned against the passenger side. He watched as Ella stopped abruptly and turned on her heel, fire in her hazel eyes as she doubled back and held the keys out to him.

“For you, Caulfield. Avoid the phonies on your way. I hear they tend to jaywalk,” she snapped as he took the keys.

“You’re so fucking hilarious,” he retorted, eyes narrowed.

“And you are so fucking annoying,” she shouted over her shoulder as she neared the front door.

“Right back at ya, Stevens!”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth as he saw Liz come out to meet Ella, enveloping her in a warm, cheerful hug. Her baby bump was round and visible from the street, and she offered her son a wave from the distance. He returned it begrudgingly. Feeling his stomach do a flip, his eyes followed Ella as she vanished into the house and didn’t turn back for a final look at him.

.   .   .

Evening had darkened to a deep, silky blue outside. The air was icy and thick with the promise of forthcoming snow. Ella sat on the porch with Miss Patty as she smoked from her long cigarette holder. The day hadn’t been her happiest, but Ella was glad to have a chance to reunite with the best dance teacher on the East Coast. Babette had left earlier, something about a gig for Maury’s jazz group. Carrie, who Ella had recognized as one of the crazy guests from Liz’s bachelorette party upon seeing her face again, was inside with Liz and TJ. And, Ella couldn’t think of anything she wanted to hear less than the story TJ was currently telling of the fight he and Jess had gotten into at a strip club. The father-to-be had shown up halfway through the party to be present when the gifts were opened, wearing an ostentatious Hawaiian shirt, inexplicably.

Ella’s glass was filled with watery orange juice, the ice cubes long since having melted. The drink was tangy, sour, and she had downed at least four of them over the course of the past three hours.

“And I told Marlene I simply couldn’t take her place,” Patty said, words snaking out of her mouth in white clouds. She was draped in velvet shawls and several long necklaces. “But she insisted!”

“I never knew you were a Dietrich stand-in,” Ella said, head buzzing and airy.

Patty nodded, an eyebrow raised suggestively. “I was her stand-in in more ways than one. Rudolf Sieber was a hell of a man.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella half-listened as she leaned over to get a better view of the full moon and the bright stars. She slid right off the porch swing and landed directly on her ass. Bursting out in drunken cackles, she somehow managed to keep the drink gripped in her hand. She gulped up the rest of it, then placed it down on the painted wood floor next to her. Patty laughed along suspiciously.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Ella nodded through her sloppy giggles, licking her lips. “I’m great, Miss Patty. Y’know, I don’t usually like orange juice too much, but I love it tonight. And Liz loved the pajamas we got. I thought the piglets would be better, but Jess insisted we get the sheep. He was right, I guess. It’d be nice if he was so open about more than just his onesie opinions.”

“My dear,” Patty began, stubbing out her cigarette, “that’s not orange juice. That’s a screwdriver.”

“Hm?” Ella asked, looking up at her from her place on the floor with large, glassy eyes.

“A screwdriver. It’s orange juice and vodka,” Patty explained, half-amused and half-concerned. She went and shouted something through the front door to Liz, TJ, Carrie, and the rest of the crowd. Ella said nothing, only looking down in confusion at her empty cup.

Liz appeared next to Patty in a second, both of them coming over and lifting Ella by the upper arms. Smiling widely, Liz gave Ella a hug goodbye. Ella laughed in her grasp, more receptive to the contact than she was when she first got to the shower.

“I had so much fun! Thank you for inviting me!” Ella exclaimed, her voice high and intoxicated.

Grin ever-present, Liz pulled away from Ella and held her by the shoulders. “Aw, thank you for coming. I love the onesie! Patty’s gonna walk you back to my bro’s diner, alright?”

Ella paused for a long, apprehensive moment, then nodded happily. “Okay, sure. Hey, did Carrie give me vodka? Patty said something about vodka. But Carrie said it was orange juice and I couldn’t taste anything else!”

“You’ll be fine, sweetie,” Liz said calmly, then turned Ella back to Patty.

Ella was about to question her further, but she was already being whisked away.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the diner,” Patty said, pushing Ella forwards by the shoulderblades.

Babbling on about whatever passed through her brain, Ella appreciated the cold air on her flushed skin as they strolled through town on the five-minute walk back to Luke's. At some point, she shed her black peacoat and slung it over her shoulder. There were rosy patches blooming on her chest, exposed in her floral black dress. Her tights had somehow sustained more than one rip and her Doc Martens felt leaden on her feet. The lights of the diner were a beacon against the dark backdrop of town at night. She saw Jess, all broody on a stool at the end of the counter, through the front window.

“Ugh, Jess is such an asshole sometimes,” she muttered, her words thick like molasses.

Patty chuckled, walking her up the concrete steps. “He’s a man, honey. What did you expect?”

The bell over the door jingled jovially. Luke was cleaning up the counter as the Saturday dinner rush died down. The aroma of salt and grease was potent. Finally, the wave of nostalgia hit Ella as she hung her coat and bag by the door. She almost knocked the rack down as Patty’s hands hovered over her form cautiously.

“Yes, everyone, your eyes do not deceive you,” Ella announced. “Luke’s best waitress has returned to her humble beginnings in Stars Hollow.”

At the sound of her voice, Jess turned and his eyes widened. He abandoned his book on the counter and hopped up from the stool. Luke, equally startled, could only stand there with his mouth agape.

“What happened?” Jess asked, rushing over to Ella. His hands went to her waist to guide her, but she swatted him away with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Get off me, Holden Caulfield,” she mumbled, wobbly on her feet.

“Carrie gave her five screwdrivers. She thought it was orange juice,” Patty said shortly, offering some greetings to the stray customers sitting around and looking on in curiosity. “You got her, Jess? I have a midnight sauna salsa class to set up for.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Patty,” Jess said, taking over for her.

Ella ran right into one of the tables. It screeched across the tile floor, leaving a dark mark. But Jess caught her before she fell on her face. Patty offered Ella a final kiss on the cheek before making her exit.

“Dammit, Crazy Carrie strikes again!” Luke exclaimed. Jess sensed a rant coming. “I never would’ve let her go if I knew that’s who was throwing it!”

“You think you could stop Eleanor Stevens from going anywhere?” Jess asked doubtfully, continuing his failed attempts to direct her.

“Luke, your nephew is a jackass, did you know that? And such a dork,” Ella said, coming behind the counter and learning her elbows on it tiredly. Luke could smell the vodka, strong on her breath. “I mean, he loves broadway. I’m serious. And Elton John. And Nora Ephron. And remember when we were in high school when he got that black eye from-”

Jess finally managed to clamp his hand over Ella’s mouth, as she had been shoving his hands away during the entire diatribe. She was surprisingly strong while drunk, even though she was such a lightweight. Licking his hand, Ella managed to get her mouth free again. She laughed at Jess’s grimace as he wiped his palm on her sleeve, but pressed her back against him nonetheless. She felt some stability returning as he began to support her weight.

“Okay, I think it’s time we get you to bed,” Jess said. His cheeks were flushed and there was crease of concern on his forehead. “Don’t you think so, Luke?”

“Yeah, Ella, the sheets are clean. You guys can take my bed tonight,” Luke said, nodding along as he went over to the cash register.

“But I don’t wanna take your bed. Who are we to take your bed?” Ella argued, as Jess led her back towards the stairs. She stumbled over her words, and swayed as she tried to walk.

“It’s fine, Ella,” Luke insisted warily. “You’ll take the bed.”

“But-”

Jess uttered a long sigh, then hoisted her up bridal-style, fed up with struggling. Groaning dramatically, Ella stiffened for only a moment, then relaxed in his arms. Her head lolled drunkenly against his shoulder.

“Oh, look, my jackass in shining armor,” she spat out, eyes closed.

“Yeah, I’m the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, I know,” he replied, finishing his climb up the stairs and managing to open the door to the apartment with only one hand.

“At least you’re self-aware.”

She was already drifting off, and he set her down atop the soft orange cover on Luke’s double bed. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed a fistful of the sheets sleepily. By the time Jess returned to her with a glass of water and some aspirin, she was beginning to snore. He set the glass and pills on the bedside table.

“Elle? Wake up for just a sec,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.

She gave another petulant moan, but opened her bleary eyes and sat up against the headboard.

“Take these,” he said shortly, giving her the glass and the aspirin.

Shooting him a scornful glare, she knocked them back without a word.

“You want the Led Zeppelin t-shirt or the blue flannel?” he asked, going over to the duffel he’d brought up to the apartment earlier.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the headache already. “Fuck, I wish I brought the KISS t-shirt. But if I brought it, I would definitely forget it. I can see it already. Led Zeppelin, please.”

He nodded, then came back to the end of the bed and began untying her shoes for her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. The smell of pine in the apartment was old and comforting. The covers were soft against her skin as Jess tugged off her stockings, leaving her legs bare. He swapped them for a pair of plaid pajama shorts, which she actually tried (unsuccessfully) to help him put on.

Suddenly, she began to clutch at the leather cord around her neck. On it, there hung a heavy, blue geode, flat against the exposed skin of her chest. She tried twice to get it off herself, before Jess finished with her shorts and pushed her hands aside. He raised it up and off of her carefully.

“Your mom put that on me. I might’ve given her twenty bucks for it? I don’t remember,” she told him, surly.

Jess cracked a joyless smirk. “How mercenary of her.”

“I wish I wasn’t drunk,” she murmured as he instructed her to raise her arms so he could get her dress and bra off.

“I know,” he replied.

“Being drunk fucking sucks,” she continued as he slipped the worn cotton t-shirt over her head.

“I know,” he repeated. Jess scooted up closer to the head of the bed. “Turn around.”

She did as he said, though not without sulky huff. In measured, delicate movements, he undid her hairdo, taking out the bobby pins and the elastic. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, untangling it.

“Okay. Do you wanna brush your teeth first?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, burrowing beneath the covers and turning away from him. Swallowing dryly, Jess gave a curt nod and was about to turn and leave when Ella flipped suddenly onto her back.

“Hey, you have to stay on your side in case-”

“I just want you to talk to me,” she interjected, reaching up to stroke his stubbly cheek with her thumb. For a moment, as she continued, he thought he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. “We need to tell each other everything. I’m really fucking worried about you. And I just...I love you and...maybe I was being too aggressive. I don’t know. But I really, really wish I wasn’t drunk and my head hurts and I wish we could go home and-”

“Hey, Eleanor, just go to sleep,” he said softly, taking her hand from his face and running his thumb over the back. She was rambling, eyes red-rimmed, beyond exhausted. Tucking her in tightly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Irrational hurt passed over Ella’s face and she scoffed angrily. She faced away from him again, the cold shoulder. “Whatever. Holden fucking Caulfield.”

.   .   .

It was past eleven when Luke finally closed up for the night. He had no place to be, and let Caesar go early. The diner was completely silent as he scrubbed away at smudged surfaces and swept up crumbs. He wished for Lorelai, could picture her at home with Christopher. Around the kitchen table where he used to sit, with Rory and Christopher’s own daughter, Gigi. Luke wondered at it in the back of his mind. Christopher had a daughter, just like him. But he’d made it work. He’d figured it out, and gotten Lorelai in the end. Why hadn’t he been able to? What was wrong with him?

He pushed the thoughts away again, shaking his head. They did no good. What’s done is done, he told himself. Maybe one day he would find someone again. But he had never met anyone who made him feel the way Lorelai did. No one else in the world. He wasn’t optimistic he’d honestly be able to come across true love again. He trudged up the creaky back stairs, his brow heavy with anguish, after shutting off the downstairs lights. Opening the door to the apartment, which still read ‘Williams Hardware’ all these years after his father had died, he was surprised to see Jess at the kitchen table, book in hand. The light over the sink was the only one left on, creating a dim glow.

“Hey,” he said quietly, locking the door behind him, even though the front door of the diner was locked as well.

Jess’s eyes lingered on the page for a moment as he finished a sentence, before he saved his place and looked up. “Hey. You finish closing?”

“Yep,” Luke said, placing his keys down near the door and immediately going to grab a beer from the fridge. He held one out to his nephew. “You want one?”

Not even considering it, Jess shook his head. He tossed a nervous look at Ella, who lay snoring and tangled up in the orange sheets. She was talking nonsense in her sleep, had been for the past two or three hours as Jess attempted to finish his Kesey novel. He was having trouble concentrating.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I think at least one of us should be sober tonight.”

“Suit yourself.”

Luke came to sit beside Jess silently, sipping his Heineken and waiting for whatever story was to come. It was only the second time in his life he had seen Ella drunk, and it was making him feel an odd sense of deja-vu.

“I wanted to help clean up downstairs, but I was worried she would flip over onto her back. I figured I should stay here and...make sure she was okay,” Jess explained, apologetic.

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke shrugged it off dismissively.

“She hates being drunk,” Jess said, eyes still on Ella. “I mean, on her twenty-first birthday, we didn’t even go out. We just watched Goodfellas.”

“Why?” Luke asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Jess smirked. “She said it was a makeshift rite of passage, since she didn’t want to drink. Because they say ‘fuck’ exactly three hundred times.”

“Sounds like her,” Luke said fondly.

“Yeah,” Jess replied, looking down at his lap and breathing a sigh.

“She didn’t seem too happy with you earlier,” Luke said pointedly, eyebrows raised. “Or was that just the booze talking?”

Jess uttered a bitter chuckle. “I’d say a sober woman’s thoughts are a drunk woman’s words, but she sounded pretty much the same level of pissed in the car on the way up here as she did after five screwdrivers.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jess said, his words a sigh. “I thought I’d be okay with all this. The baby shower and everything. But I got to thinking about it more and more and...I just don’t know. Do you think Liz is ready for another kid?”

Luke paused a moment, appraising Jess’s face. He saw sincere fear in his nephew’s features, taking him slightly aback. “I think so. And TJ’s not the sharpest tool in the shed by any means, but I think he’s even less of a flight risk than your mom. And they live right down the road from me, Jess.”

Jess hummed. “I guess that’s true. I just got to remembering some things about Liz and...Ella could tell something was up. She can always tell. But I guess I didn’t feel like talking.”

Blowing a long breath out through his nose, Luke nodded. “Well, you don’t have to worry about this kid. I promise. I won’t let anything happen.”

“Thanks.”

“And Jess?” Luke began, meeting his nephew’s eyes. “Talk to her. Tell her everything that’s on her mind. There’s no point in hiding things. It’ll drive her crazy, and it’ll drive her away. We’ve had this conversation before. Open two-way communication is-”

“The foundation of love, I know, Dr. Phil,” Jess grumbled, rolling his eyes at the self-help jargon. But, inside, he stored the sentiment away for later. “Old habits, I guess. I’m working on it.”

“Good. That’s all that matters,” Luke said, offering Jess a hopeful smile and finishing off the last of his beer. He tossed it in the recycling and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Jess ran a hand over his mouth and then rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. His dream from the night before flashed across his mind quickly, and he tried to lock the images away. The thought of curling up on the old leather couch made him grimace. He wasn’t eager for a repeat. One more chapter, he told himself. Then he would be ready to try and rest.

.   .   .

Whatever possessed her to wake up at five in the morning on a Sunday, she wasn’t entirely sure. But the pounding headache in her temples probably had something to do with it. Luke was already gone, the twin bed on which Jess had once slept made neatly and left empty. Early morning deliveries perhaps. Or maybe he was getting ready for the brunch crowd. It was his least favorite group of customers, Ella remembered. As she awoke and saw Jess was asleep beneath a throw blanket on the couch, book on the floor next to him, she hopped up from the bed. The weathered hardwood was cold beneath her bare feet, and she wished the room wasn’t quite as awash in morning light. She had to squint against it as she padded over, sitting on the edge of one couch cushion.

“Jess?” she whispered, groggy. She raked her hands through her messy hair and tucked it behind her ears. Goosebumps rose on her arms after having left the warmth of the bed. “Jess?”

He stirred on only the second try, scrunching up his face. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before. Eventually, his brown eyes were open, and surprised to see her up before him. “Hey, Elle. You okay?”

“Yeah. Why are you on the couch?”

“Oh,” he said, throwing an arm across his eyes and yawning. “You were pretty mad last night. I didn’t know if you’d want me to get in with you.”

She shook her head, a small smile ghosting over her lips. “I always want you sleeping next to me, cutie. Even when I’m mad. I mean, we’ve got sides of the bed now. There’s tradition to maintain.”

“Like you’ve ever cared about tradition,” he chuckled, blinking away the sleep in his field of vision. She looked pale, almost a sickly green, but her eyes were clear once again. And her speech was no longer drunkenly strung together.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “But I wasn’t sleep-in-separate-beds mad. I was just I’m-wasted-and-annoyed mad.”

“How the hell did you not know you were drinking screwdrivers?” he asked, a teasing smirk appearing on his face.

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “I don’t know, Mariano. I don’t ever drink. How am I supposed to know what alcohol tastes like? And I don’t know what the fuck Carrie did to those, but I swear they were a dead ringer for straight orange juice.”

“Whatever you say, Stevens.”

“Shut up,” she quipped with good nature. “Did I try to sing Rumors or anything? I don’t really remember.”

“Mercifully, no,” he said, sitting up against the arm of the couch. “Nothing crazy. You are a bit of a weepy drunk, but who isn’t?”

“Jesus,” she murmured, blushing slightly.

He chuckled half-heartedly, then his face grew more earnest. “Hey, Elle?”

“Hm?”

Pausing to heave a heavy sigh, he raked a hand through his bedhead.

“I didn’t want to come here because of the dream I had,” Jess spit out, before he could lose his nerve. “Nothing specific...just a bunch of stuff from when I was growing up. It just...Liz wasn’t the best mom and I was remembering...a lot. And I was nervous about her…”

“Screwing up that kid’s life?” she asked.

He nodded shyly.

“Okay. I get why you’d be nervous. But she’s with TJ now, and she’s older. And, plus, the day Luke lets anything happen to that baby is the day Coldplay is classified is an alternative band,” Ella said. At some point, she began running her fingers through his hair in reassurance. “I really, really think it’ll be fine.”

“I know. I talked to Luke last night.”

“And you’re feeling better about it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a small weight lift from somewhere inside him. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just...I don’t know. I was...scared. It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Jess,” she shook her head, gaze softening. “It makes sense. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I didn’t mean to. You just...you scared me. And I was going insane because I knew something was wrong and...I was just worried about you.”

“I know, Daria,” he said fondly.

“I mean, you had a panic attack, Jess.” Her voice was deep with fatigue, and had pleading quality which struck Jess’s heart. “You couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to help and...maybe you should see someone? My brother’s therapist helped him a lot after my mom.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jess replied, shockingly genuine. Ella didn’t think he would be entertaining the thought of getting help so easily.

“Good.”

“Not like I’ve got the best insurance though.”

Ella sighed. “Yeah. Fucking capitalism.”

“It’s a little early to be going Marxist, I think,” he said, laughing breathily.

“Oh, it’s never too early,” she shot back.

“Duly noted,” Jess replied. Then, after a hesitant pause: “So, we’re fine?”

“Everything’s fine, James Dean,” she said, nodding. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said with a bashful laugh, bowing his head.

Ella’s smile grew at his shyness, and she pressed a brief kiss to his forehead before he lifted his head back up and their lips met. As they pulled away from each other, he placed an affectionate hand on her cheek.

“How’s your head?”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’m glad,” he quipped. “You think you can handle some breakfast?”

“Worth a try.”

“Okay, once Luke opens up, we can head downstairs. Then let’s go home?” he proposed.

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” she said, almost wistful. “Let’s go home.”

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x original character #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character fanfiction #original character stories #oc fanfiction #gilmore girls #gilmore #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #fanfiction #luke danes #lukes diner

[nothingeverlost]

On the Wings of an Owl (2/?)

In which Sirius finds his way home and Remus starts a new journey.

  II    

Prologue

II

Chapter One -  A Journey Begins with a Single Step

II   

The sun was shining when Sirius left the Department of Ministry. It was the first time he’d seen the sun in twelve days and it seemed a sacrilege that it was bright and not hidden behind clouds.  The whole world should be weeping for Lily and James.

“Oh thank Merlin.”   Monty was waiting for him in the ally, in a set of robes of dark gray.   His hair seemed whiter than it had been a few months ago, no signs left of the strawberry blond it had been once.  His skin was fragile like those dusty old tomes Remus liked to read.

He couldn’t think about Remus, not right now.  His head was already throbbing with too many thoughts.

“You didn’t need to come,” he told the man who had been a father to him for almost a decade.  He should have known one of the Potters would be waiting for him, but it seemed too much to ask of them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d feel up to apparating just yet, my boy, so I hired a car to take us home.”  Monty’s step faltered a little as he turned.  Sirius automatically grabbed his elbow, steadying him.  Monty looked at him for a moment before taking another step.  When he spoke it was in a voice that was soft, and more to himself.  “That’s just right, lad.  We’ll prop each other up.”

It took a little less than an hour to reach the house, the last five minutes down a private lane that the driver wouldn’t be able to find later even if he had a reason to drive out to Weybridge again to look.  The house had changed little since Sirius first saw it at the age of twelve, the summer before Second year when he stayed for a week.  It looked like James should come running out the door at any moment to greet him, like he had a thousand times before.

James would never greet him again.

The sprawling manor house had been in Monty’s family for generations, probably as long as Grimmauld Place had belonged to his own family line.  Where Grimmauld was weighed down with the past, however, the Potter home was alive, treasured antiques from the Potter’s English roots entwined with the warm colors and scents of Euphemia’s Indian heritage. A suit of armor in the hall had a dent on one arm where he’d knocked it against a wall after James had used it to scare him once.  Opposite the armor was a bronze elephant decorated in jewels, the trunk raised in a show of prosperity.  Harry was using the elephant to pull himself up, focusing on standing until the door opened and he noticed the new arrival.

“Pa-foo,” he said clearly, looking up at Sirius with eyes the same vivid green as Lily’s, his hair sticking up at odd angles just like James.  For the first time in a week Sirius broke down in tears, collapsing onto the floor.  Harry lost interest in the elephant and fell backward, landing on his well-padded butt and rolling over to crawl over to the object of his attention.  His small fingers found the holes in the jeans Sirius wore and he used them to pull himself up until he was almost in his godfather’s lap.  Sirius pulled himself together enough to support the lad, holding him close to his chest.   The warmth he felt against his skin was alien after weeks of only feeling cold, or more often feeling nothing at all.  Harry reached out one chubby hand to touch Sirius’ cheek.  “Pad-foo wet.”

“He’s been waiting for you. I told him you were coming today.”  Euphemia stood in the hall, ignoring the single tear falling down her cheek.  She was dressed in robes of pure white without adornment, her feet bare despite the chilly November day. The white was for mourning he knew. She had told him once that bare feet made her feel more connected to her home and her magic.   “Welcome home, Sirius.”

Sirius could only look at her for a moment before bowing his head.  

II

The weeks after the war were a strange time.  First came the celebrations, of course, the great silence of the last years ending in cheers and fireworks.  The pubs were crowded as friends and strangers alike toasted to the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers.  Infants who had been born into war woke up for the first time in peace, and children who had been afraid to play were finally able to run in the streets in bright colors and with raised voices.  Wizards were no different than any other human and needed their victory, but after the first few days reality set in.

For the first time, they had the leisure to mourn the dead after years of having to push away grief to focus on the next mission, the next battle.  For months memorial services happened on a weekly basis, some for a single person, sometimes for an entire family.  Two months after the war ended Christmas came, a celebration that highlighted the many empty chairs at Christmas dinner.

In Diagon Alley a memorial was built, a single arm raised with a wand outstretched, behind it a field of stars,  Every minute the name hovering above the wand changed, each of the fallen listed in turn.  

Marlene McKinnon Dorcas Meadows Fabian Prewitt Gideon Prewitt Edgar Bones Benjy Fenwick

It took more than an hour to see every name.  After Lily Potter’s name faded away the series began again.  There were names that were missing. One day Regulus Black would be added, when his deeds were learned, but that wouldn’t be for years.  It would take another month before the death of Arabella Figg was discovered, as she had little communication with wizards and it took time before anyone checked on her.  Frank and Alice Longbottom, stuck between life and death, weren’t on the list.

Peter Pettigrew’s name was quietly removed from the list the day after it was discovered that he was still alive.

It was a rare family that wasn’t touched in some way by death.  Remus Lupin, half an orphan before the war started, was completely alone after.  His father had started fading the moment his mother died; he had chosen recklessness as his way to join her.  There had been whispers of werewolves going after muggle families.  It was a member of Greywolf’s pack that killed him, though Remus fortunately never knew that fact.  He only knew that his father died and he was alone.

In the weeks after the war Remus fled to Wales.  For the first time in his adult life he didn’t have anything to do.  No mission from Dumbledore, no job, and certainly no friends to meet at the pub.  He mourned in his own way, drawing his grief tight around himself.  Grief for the friends lost and the relationships that had fallen apart.  He tried to look back at everything and figure out when Peter had become a betrayer and where he’d missed the signs.  He did not want to think about Sirius, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the much more obvious signs of how badly that friendship had gone wrong.  Losing James and Lily was like an amputation, a part of himself that was there one moment and gone the next, leaving phantom pains.  Losing Sirius was a festering wound that would probably never heal.  He mourned the losses of his friends, all of them.

The Daily Profit announced on the front page when Sirius Black was released, and it was a dull sort of comfort knowing that at least he was free and innocent, or at least as innocent as any of them could be after fighting a war.  The picture they used was an old one, from Jame and Lily’s wedding, and it hurt to see it.  Though it was only Sirius in the frame, mugging for the camera, Rumus knew that his own younger self had been cropped away.  They had all been so happy that day.  Sirius had even dragged him out to the dance floor after a few drinks, and it was just a lark for him but Remus could still remember how it had felt to dance with his friend and secret love.  He tossed the paper in the bin.

Transforming on his own was always harder, leaving him exhausted.  He needed another day of rest, he decided, but then it was time for a change.  There was no reason to stay in England. Sentiments against werewolves were even worse after the war; some had been responsible for vicious attacks, and the best that could be said was that some had chosen to remain neutral. He had his parents’ house, but without an income there would be no way to feed himself.  There was only one thing he could do that would be of use to anyone; he was going to find Peter.  Tomorrow he would start tracking down a rat.

II

Sirius could not sleep.  The bed was too soft and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a real bed. The last month was a blur of cells and leaning in doorways and curling up in alleys as a dog.  After living in the city and fighting a war the sounds of the country were too quiet and strange.  Mostly, though, he couldn’t sleep because it felt as if James being dead had changed the whole equilibrium of the world and he couldn’t find his footing.

His bedroom faced the back garden, his view partially obscured by a tree that had been a handy way of coming and going when he was a boy.  Many a time he and James had climbed down the tree to go for a midnight swim or smuggle in things to drink.  More than once he’d climbed in on his own, the window never locked as if the house itself knew that he sometimes needed a place to run to when his own house was too much.  The summer before Fifth year he’d shown up at one in the morning on an August day, climbed inside and collapsed in the bed, sleeping until James had pounced on him and demanded to know why he hadn’t woken him up.  Sixth year, when he’d left his family or good, he’d used the front door.

Sometime in the last couple of years Euphemia and Monty had changed their bedroom to the downstairs suite.   It meant that of the five upstairs bedrooms the only other one occupied was the one to his left, a guest suite that now held a crib.  To his right was James’s room, separated from his own by a bath they had shared.  The door to the room that now belonged to Harry was open, and Sirius found himself standing in the doorway more than he tried lying on his bed.  The window shade was up and the almost full moon illuminated the crib enough to see the bandage on Harry’s forehead.  Magic wounds were hard to heal, and no one knew how long a curse from such a powerful wizard would take before it stopped bleeding.

“James should be the one standing here,” he whispered to the boy as he stood at the edge of the crib.  His friend had been so excited about being a father.  So proud.  So worried about his ability to protect his son and wife.   Sirius had sworn that nothing would happen to any of them.  He had lied.

“Mmm.”  Harry shifted in his sleep, as restless as James had always been.  He was such a small thing; Sirius had panicked the first time Lily had handed the baby to him, certain that he would drop the kid and nine months of work would be ruined.  James could forgive him just about anything, but probably not a dent in his kid.

“I’ll fuck this up, Prongs, but I swear I will do my best.”  The first time James had asked him to be godfather it had seemed a joke.  It was a good laugh, him responsible for anyone’s child.  Merlin, there were days when he shouldn’t be responsible for himself, let alone another human.  As the war had progressed the promise was one that James had reminded him of on occasion.  Every time he had panicked and told James that he and Lily were the ones most likely to survive.  Even after the prophecy they had a plan.  James would be safe.  Godfather would be an honorary title that just meant he got to spoil the kid with the things his parents wouldn’t buy for him.  And then he’d made the stupidest argument in his life and had convinced James that Peter would be a better secret keeper.  James and Lily paid for his mistake with their lives.  Harry would pay for the rest of his life, his parents stolen from him.

Thank Merlin for Euphemia and Monty.  He couldn’t raise Harry on his own.  Without them he wouldn’t know what to do.  Without them he’d probably be in a cell in Azkaban.

It was another hour before he slept.  He only settled because Harry woke up and needed rocking; they both fell asleep in the chair that had been Lily’s, Harry on his chest, the rocking charm he’d put on the chair long since worn off.  Euphemia found them in the early hours of the morning and covered them carefully with a blanket.

#wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius x lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #siriius black x remus lupin #harry potter #my fic #harry potter fic #MPPW

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch33

AO3 link

 Dragonstone

Tyrion knows it was wise for him to stay on Dragonstone with Varys when Danaerys flew north. That didn’t stop him from feeling like he was twiddling his thumbs the whole time.

He passes the time listening for gossip. He hears of the tragic fall of the house of Arryn, now headed by a weak-willed lordling. He hears of his brother’s disappearance from King’s Landing, and with each day his hope is dashed that that meant he would come to follow him, He hears of his nephew, the increasingly unstable king.

He, of course, has his part in what the maesters have discussed calling “the great visions” and he hears the smallfolk whispers of “winter madness”.

He almost dares not believe his vision. He dares not believe the image of himself, with a heavy beard, but the burden of many of his vices lifted. He almost dares not believe the pride in his chest, the memory of being trusted, and respected.

And the memory of Sansa’s face, trusting and open. He had seen that face before, and he knew it to be real.

The haze his mind is in in the days following is interrupted by the arrival of a single ship from the north.

It should bring more panic, the sign of the Baratheon banners, returning home to their appropriated castle. But the handful of men just seem ecstatic to see other human beings.

After a rushed conversation that tells that they have all been seized by these strange visions, the captain quickly asks to be lead to the castle.

“It’s the Lady Baratheon.  Since we were all overcome by this madness, she has twice attempted to take her own life. We need to keep her under constant supervision.”

Tyrion watches as the sailors off board, surrounding the thin, wane form of Selyse Baratheon. He would have barely recognized her as a person beforehand. He wonders what she saw.

Over the next weeks, at loss for anything else to do, Tyrion sits with her, reading. She wakes, and seems to recognize him, but will usually just roll over and return to her fitful slumber.

One morning, for some reason, when she rouses, she turns to him and speaks.

“What did you see?”

Tyrion chuckles. Those may be the words spoken to nearly the whole of Westeros over the coming years.

“A vision of a man others have told me I am but I can scarcely believe.”

Selyse chuckles mirthlessly, before rolling onto her back.

“I saw something that if asked before, I would have said it was a good thing,” Tyrion notes that she still does not say what it is, “But seeing it horrified me to the bone, and feeling that made me realize how incredibly wrong I had been about so very many things.”

Selyse returns to silence. When it breaks again, her words are gravelly. She’s not telling him exactly what she saw that day, but she is still saying so much.

“I haven’t seen my daughter in so long. I wonder if I would even recognize her.”

Tyrion thinks.

“Last I heard she was when your husband went north to aid the Night’s Watch. She was under Lord Stark’s protection, her sworn shield by her side.”

There’s a decent chance Shireen could be fine, he thinks.

Selyse rolls away from his gaze.

“Alive and well,” she whispers, “No thanks to me.”

Tyrion lets her stay with her thoughts after that.

 The Kingsroad

The guilt Jamie felt over leading his men north now befuddled him. They were soldiers after all, they should know that death is a possibility.

If any of them were as taken by the visions as him, they should know what they might be facing.

North of Moat Cailin, the ground is solid and wide. That’s where they are when the dead lunge for the men at the head of the company.

As Jamie realizes they have no weapons effective against the dead, no Valyrian steel, no dragonglass, despair begins to set in. They build fires, but he doubts it will be enough. The ground is open on all sides, they could attack from any direction. And there are not enough of them to be sure none get past and go further south.

He doesn’t know how many days they’ve been fighting. Long enough that no one paid attention when the sky opened up.

Everyone paid attention when the dragon swooped down from the heavens and burned a line along the countryside.

Jamie can barely hear his own voice over the wind and screaming when calls out to the rider.

“Our weapons won’t work on them!”

“Drive them into piles and ditches,” her voice calls out, “I’ll burn as many as I can!”

Jamie nods, and amidst the chaos, he lifts his sword and fights.

 Winterfell

Ned trusts Maester Luwin’s opinion, but he still can’t wrap his mind around the words.

“Are you sure?”

The older man nods solemnly.

“The bits of the broken sword are still inside your chest. As you continue to move, they will too, and I believe from the position, that they will eventually cause bleeding inside or damage to your lungs, and there will be nothing that can be done.”

“You can’t remove them?”

“Attempting to do that risks both the same things.”

Ned sighs, resting his head in his hands. Things have finally begun to slow. The sun has returned, the wounded are beginning to heal, the hungry to be fed. And this.

“How long?”

Maester Luwin shakes his head.

“No way to tell. It could be two days, or two moons, or two years. You don’t seem to be in pain now, which is encouraging.”

Ned’s eyes make their way over the rest of the Great Hall, the injured. It’s night now, and most are sleeping, or trying to.

Robb has finally regained enough strength to leave and join the others in trying to plan strategy to take out the rest of the wights. He had been privy to part of the conversation between him and Val when he had finally come out of the haze.

Robb had stared vacantly at the space where his arm had been for a good long while before breaking the silence.

“You cut off my arm,” he tells her, voice disbelieving.

“If you had preferred I just slit your throat, let me know, I can still do it.”

“No,” Robb had told her softly, and his eyes were serene. The next time Val had come, she had motioned for him to stand and pushed an axe into his remaining hand.

Arya and Gendry had spent too many nights sleeping in here, trying to outrun the wounds they both refused to acknowledge. Luwin had had to take two of Gendry’s toes which had become frostbitten. Regaining his balance had taken time that the lad did not have patience for, eager to regain the others outside.

As for Arya, she had woken fitfully the first several nights, complaining of the buzzing. Luwin had said the explosion had ruptured one of her eardrums, and that while the buzzing might fade, he doubted she would ever regain full hearing in that ear.

But after several days, she had seemed to be able to fight through it, to force herself to ignore it. There were fewer archers needed, but more fires to put out, bodies to burn, debris to clear, rebuilding to begin.

Even Ygritte had ended up down here, loathe to admit that ever since she had taken the arrow, she hadn’t been able to feel two of her fingers. Luwin had bowed his head when he told her it was likely permanent. She had rolled her eyes and muttered something about how at least it was only her bow arm and not her drawing arm.

Ned watches one by one as his children leave the Great Hall and he remains. Ned had not seen any sign of Rickon.

Rickon was outside when Arya and Gendry woke and stepped outside the Great Hall. He doesn’t say a word, merely nods. He’s covered in blood, in varying stages of drying, but doesn’t move like any of it’s his.

The two of them eventually find Jon and Brienne, still holding their heads high.

“The first scouting parties are going out tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t be too intense, since it seems like we’re just cleaning up.”

Arya nods, forcing herself to ignore the buzzing.

“Will the two of you be with us?” Brienne asks.

Arya and Gendry exchange a gaze.

“What time are we riding?” Gendry asks.

“First light,” Jon replies.

They exchange another look.

“We’ll see.”

They stagger off, still leaning on each other. Eventually they find solitude in what used to be a stable. The horses still in Winterfell all have riders, or else stand about waiting for a new one, thin and wane.

If pushed, both of them would say a pile of straw and a horse blanket are marginally better than a pile of grain sacks.

They’re scarred and filthy and somehow still exhausted, but somehow their hands still reach for one another. Gendry rests his weight on his arms and loves her with what little strength he can find, not letting himself go until her sighs and groans rise to a peak twice, writhing underneath him and her hands grasping at his shoulders.

Afterwards, he still clings to her.

“Helping save the world has made you greedy,” Arya whispers idly, playing with his hair, grown out long now.

He squeezes her tighter.

“I can’t help it, It’s been...gods, months, since I’ve touched you.”

Arya hums softly in response, and he continues.

“I remember how I felt last time, when I found you after in the springs. We thought it was all over, Davos said something about Danaerys meaning to give me my father’s name...I wanted to get down on one knee right there, ask you to be my lady-”

“Thank you for not, I would have run and screamed if you’d phrased it like that.”

“Didn’t get a chance now did I?” Gendry rubs his cheek against her shoulder.

Arya shifts underneath him,

“Months since we’ve bathed too,” she starts, remembering the last months of only buckets of wet snow, “Want to go and find one of the hot springs?”

Gendry shrugs, and they stand.

Walking through Winterfell is like walking through a corpse. Walls stand broken down, pathways littered with debris, the ever present smell of fire and rotted flesh. She’s grateful when they follow a staircase down and the hot springs under the Great Keep appear the same as always, as immovable as the mountains.

It takes longer than before to wash the muck from their bodies, and Arya is grateful too that the water seems to be no different for it. The warmth is making her sleepy, but she forces her eyes to open. She swims over, and presser her chin against Gendry’s back, wrapping her arms around him.

“Will we be at the gates tomorrow?” she asks.

There’s a pause.

“Ask me in the morning, once we sleep.”

 Bear Island

The sky was clear as it hadn’t been in ages. One could see straight through the water to the bottom on a day as clear as this.

Which is why Osha has no words when she stares out over the sea at the lumbering bodies that walk straight into the sea and keep going.

Panic rises in her throat, but she finds no words. Confused, Gilly walks up beside her. When she looks out, Osha can see her stiffen.

“Start a bonfire,” she tells Osha with an unusual amount of authority, “The biggest you can. I’ll go and get the others. Lyra and Lyanna are good enough with their weapons.”

Osha can barely move for the fear, the wood begins to pile. It looks pitifully small until the large stable boy comes up near her holding an armful that looks like it could warm a whole castle in itself.

He turns towards Osha and meets her eyes.

“Hodor,” he says, softly, and Osha feels her eyes prickle with tears, much in the way she had in that day of the strange dreams.

“I’ll try, sweet giant.”

By the time they are ready to light the fire, Gilly returns to the beach with the rest of the ladies in the keep.

Hodor lifts two of the smallest children under each arm, and another climbs on his back. The children are silent, staring.

Lyra puts her hand to her brow to stare across the sea. Osha can hear crying and whimpering from the group behind her and tries to steel herself.

Lyanna’s voice rings out.

“Light more fires, at least enough to line the beach. If they think they will find us an easy fight, they have something else coming.”

 Greywater Watch

The debate over names had gone back and forth a thousand times.

The debate was still going one morning when a group of them were going out scouting to see if there was enough thaw to the bogs for Greywater Watch to move safely. It had been in one place unusually long. Near everyone in the keep were being packed into rowboats to go on ahead and signal the new destination, lightening the load and making the crannog's movement easier.

Bran was sitting in a canoe, waiting for the others, and holding his daughter. He touches her forehead for a moment.

“Arra,” he says, turning his head to look at Meera, who’s climbed into the canoe with him. She sits gingerly, despite having exclaimed happily three days ago that she finally seemed to have stopped oozing blood, and she was starting to feel like herself again, “What do you think?”

Arra was a Stark name, the first wife of Cregan Stark, the old man of the north. And very close to another.

“Well it will definitely get your sister off our backs when we see her again.”

There’s another of those words that catches between them, “when”. With a cough, Bran turns their words back.

“Maybe she’ll be blessed to be like her then. Brave, fierce.”

“Willing and able to fight us every step,” Meera adds with a smirk. She picks up an oar.

“Do you want the baby or the oars?”

Considering it, Bran nods. He’ll keep Arra.

After several minutes of rowing, Meera replies.

“Arra works for me. We could only hope her to be as fierce as her aunt.”

She would need to be that fierce, if the world continues on the way it is. She remains silent as Bran holds her, watching the scenery of the swamps go by. It’s still winter cold, but the sun has shined brightly for nearly a whole moon’s turn, the fog only lingering in the very early mornings. The fishermen and trappers seem almost confused at being able to see so far out in front of their noses.

Everything feels alive here, he thinks. Everything moving and drifting, as if the whole world, plants, animals and people alike, were just a single organism, moving autonomously, but parts of a larger whole.

They pass a patch of water marked with a flag with a black “x” upon it. In one of the other boats, one packed with more people, Bran can hear Jojen whispering to Shireen. He’d heard it before too, that patches of the swamp would have so many piles of dead and decaying things in spots that gas would build up. Swimmers would get choked or intoxicated by it, so they marked them when they were found.

“Also, that’s where we try to dump waste,” Jojen adds, “So you definitely want a warning not to swim, or fish, or drink in areas marked with black flags.”

After three-quarters of an hour or so of rowing, they pause. They’re further out towards the sea, the water is deeper and hardly any is frozen. Meera speaks to several of the other men in the boats, and then nods.

“This is a good spot, send word back.”

The process of moving Greywater Watch is still so alien to watch, to see the whole keep float along the water as if it weighed nothing. Even the process of it being anchored still feels almost magical. But Bran watches it done, trying to acclimate himself, trying to remember that he will come to call this place home.

When everyone’s getting out of the canoes, and tying them back, another one that hadn’t been with them approaches the keep. Howland and Jyana are inside fixing the anchor, so Meera approaches to speak to the men in the boats.

Jojen is just whispering to Shireen about how the crannogmen can always find Greywater Watch, wherever it is, when Meera whirls around violently, and raises her voice.

“Everyone! Get any weapons you can and get to higher ground!”

In Bran’s arms, Arra begins to cry hearing her mother yell. When the others around him begin rushing, Bran rushes to meet her.

“What’s happened?”

“The dead are coming south. And it appears they can now cross water.”

Bran’s chest tightens. Meera reaches and takes Arra, who is still wailing.

“Get my mother and father and get to the top of the keep. I’ll find my bow and meet you.”

When Bran tries to rush after her words, he hears her telling the men in the boats to spread the word, but to use the trees if they can, since the waterways won’t be safe.

“And tell them to use fire.”

It’s a mess, trying to gather the weapons, flint, anything that might possibly be flammable. By the time Bran follows Howland and Jyana up the steps, his bad leg is aching and throbbing, about to give out.

When he finally lets out a breath, Sansa roughly grabs his hand and drags him to a crate so he can sit.

Sansa’s clutching her bow, the one Meera and Arya made for her all those years ago.

“Aren’t you glad you brought it anyway?” Bran asks her.

Sansa nods, her face pale. Her lips move silently, and Bran realizes she’s praying.

Everyone spreads out so that all directions are covered, just in case. Bran feels his throat tighten, at all the people they led down here to keep them safe from the wights, and now they were here anyway. Greywater Watch doesn’t have much of a household, but there are enough bows running around each side. Spears won’t be of much use here.

Bran takes his place next to Meera, who has her bow in one hand and Arra on her back, in the sling Sansa had helped her sew out of fishnets while she was healing so the babe could be carried with her hands free.

Arra’s fussing, but not crying openly. Bran moves to kiss her head, and run his fingers over the strands of her thin reddish hair. Tully red, he realizes grimly. Meera meets his eye, and he can see the fear that she will never speak.

Jojen finds them, and hands Bran his own bow, still a bit dusty from where it’s sat with years of disuse..

“We don’t have enough pitch and oil to waste this on myself, I’m such a sorry shot.”

They are as ready as they can be, and all they can do is wait.

The first one appears before sundown, lurching through the waters and rushes. When the mud does what it can to stick it, someone takes the first shot, and the body burns.

And they keep waiting. Another comes, two more.

Night falls. Bran has persuaded Meera to sit down by his crate and try and sleep after feeding Arra. She has claimed waking every few hours to feed a crying infant is nothing compared to running through the snow being pursued by dead men, but her eyes betray her. Bran has tired to share her burden when he can, and he’s spent much of these weeks more tired than he can remember.

But Bran can’t sleep, his eyes are still peeled on the horizon.

At some point, pacing and weapon-less, Shireen passes behind him. There have been no signs of wights since the sun has left the sky.

Tired, she mutters.

“Maybe now that the sun has come out, they can see there’s solid ground underneath the water.”

Bran can’t even make himself consider that, and he hopes Shireen doesn’t think on it too hard.

After a few hours, Arra wakes again, and once she’s fed, Meera tugs on Bran’s hand until he’s seated beside her, and idly rubs the back of his neck until he feels himself drifting.

“It’s been quiet,” she murmurs, half gone, “Sleep.”

The sun comes again, and they wake to a shout and another shot taken.

Later that day, when the food is being passed around haphazardly, Sansa quietly mentions.

“I think Shireen’s right. None came at night.”

With the sky tilting towards night again, Bran has an epiphany.

He steps a bit to the side and nudges Sansa.

“We left the wolves near Moat Cailin right?”

Sansa nods softly, thinking.

“That was the last we saw them, since they don’t much care for marshes. “

“If we can warg them, we could use them to drive the wights closer, so we can get them more easily, and they won’t attack places that aren’t armed.”

Sansa’s face is uncertain.

“I don’t know if I can warg Lady from this far away.”

“Sansa,” he implores, “Try. Try it with me.”

Sansa inhales roughly, before nodding. Bran grips her hand before shutting his eyes tightly.

Summer’s mind is easy to recognize, even now. He begins in the dry areas close to Moat Cailin and then runs south.

The swamp he begins to run through smells of a thousand things at once, wet and green and rotted. His own scent isn’t remaining, and Bran doesn’t think a trail would be easy for Summer to follow.

The dead are easy to find though. They don’t smell right. Not alive, not rotting. Cold, even in the sun.

They move aimlessly, no longer having a leader commanding them. They do seem to be avoiding Bran’s howls and barks, his plan is working. He pushes them together. It’s only Bran’s vague knowledge of where Greywater Watch is that tells him Summer’s herding them in the right direction.

The smell shifts suddenly, becoming reminiscent of bad eggs, overly rich and vile. Summer whines at it, and the sudden heat.

When Bran pulls himself off, he stares off through the horizon, at the black flags along the water.

He pats Sansa’s shoulder again.

“Any luck?”

“Some”.

He points.

“Guide them to the bits there. Once night comes, they’ll stick.”

Sansa nods, still unsure, but her eyes turn white like his. Staggering a bit, stiff in his own skin, Bran stands to go and tell his plan to the others.

Dusk comes, and with a gasp, Bran returns to his skin. There’s two dozen creeping, that’s all they could find, with the wolves and the ravens searching as well as they can.

He picks up his bow, and joins his spot in line between Sansa and Meera.

There’s twelve of them here armed. Twelve bows, with cloth wrapped arrows dipped in pitch, lit.

Twelve arrows sail through the sky at twilight, into the clearing filled with swamp gas, already smothering several underground fires.

And at twilight, twelve wights are violently ignited.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #breera #time travel fix it #fic

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (8/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General audiences, no particular warnings.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 8/? (2033 words)

Author’s notes : A bit shorter, but big one coming up next !

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As soon as I dismissed the class, chatter started filling the small auditorium, along with chairs dragging to the wooden floors. The sun was almost set, and everyone, including me, was exhausted, and so the room emptied itself fast. Vlad, who sat at the back during the whole day, went down the stairs and joined me at my desk, a coy little smirk on the corner of his lips.

“Well, what did the expert think ?”, I asked as I started putting away my stuff.

“A few kinks to work out here and there, but overall, not too bad”, he commented, leaning back against the blackboard. “However…” He raised an eyebrow. “I see you snaked around a certain historical figure. An important one, if I do say so myself.”

I groaned. “It didn’t mention what didn’t need mentioning in this class.”

“You know, and not to be a narcissist, but there is a good chance half of your students took that class hoping to learn about the Infamous Impaler”, he commented.

He looked so smug. If I didn’t know what he was, he could just have been a nerd way too much into role-play. With great fashion tastes, and nice hair. Anyway.

“Actually, I did promise them last semester that we would do a class on that subject”, I told him, turning to face him, sitting back on my desk. “Then, I took a holiday, which somehow had me change my mind.”

He winced, and took the sorriest puppy-dog face I had ever seen in my entire existence. For crying out loud. “Don’t play victim with me, jerk”, I grumbled.

“Why, is it working ?”, he teased.

Before I could reply anything witty, I was interrupted by a voice timidly calling out my name. A pale, tired-looking student was waiting awkwardly at the foot of the podium, expectantly looking up at me. I had no idea who he was, which was a bit frustrating, as I always paid attention to that sort of thing.

“Do you have any questions about the lecture ?”, I asked him, inviting him to step closer. “Remind me your name, I'm sorry, I can't seem to place you...”

“Stephan Helder”, he told me with a little smile. “I just transferred here.”

Well, at least, it made me feel a little bit better about the looming prospect of Alzheimer's disease. I vaguely did remember an e-mail from Laurent informing me I'd have a transfer student from London taking my course, but I didn't think it went further into detail.

“Do you want the notes for last semester’s courses ? I could e-mail them to you.”

“No, actually, I didn’t come here for that, I have something I’d like to ask you about”, he nervously told me, as his eyes kept darting to Vlad.

“That’s fine, go ahead !” I tried to give him a reassuring smile. “This is professor Balaur, from the University of Bucharest. He might be able to help too. He's very... Savvy on the subject of this class, to put it mildly.”

I gave a quick look towards him, to which he responded with a half-wink.

“I am thinking of doing my master’s degree here”, Helder began, seemingly a bit less tense. “I talked to professor Laurent Rasab, and he agreed to tutor it, but I would like to have your tutorage as well.”

I was taken aback for a moment. No student ever asked for my tutorage on anything, not even advice on the assignments I gave out. Which wasn't very wise, as I always offered, and always ended up correcting soul-sucking essays that made me want to retire before I even reached 25.

“I don’t know that I’m qualified for that”, I told him with a laugh.

“I’m very interested in your field of study”, he exclaimed. “I would like to study the real involvement of Vlad Tepes in the fight against the ottomans, maybe try to draw the line between fiction and reality, considering his reputation, even to this day. You’ve worked on the attack on Targoviste, right ?”

At least, the lad seemed motivated. Behind me, I could hear Vlad fighting off a fit of laughter, that he hid in a cough. I took a deep breath, turned my attention back on Helder.

“Listen, why don’t you send me an e-mail, and I’ll look at my schedule to fix an appointment ? I’ll get Laurent on it, and we’ll both discuss that with you.”

He nodded, thanked me, and bolted, not before a last, strangely intense look at Vlad. I waited until the door clicked behind him, and let out a long sigh.

“You will be the death of me, you know that ?”

He stepped closer to me, and moved my hair out of my shoulders. I shivered as his fingers ran through the whole length of the strands. “Not with that high a neckline, you can be sure of that.” As he stepped back, he let his knuckles slide down my spine, and denied all responsibility when I protested. Bastard. I put my laptop in my briefcase, and went to turn off the lights.

“By the way, when were you born ? Sources aren’t clear on the date”, I asked as we made our way to the exit.

“March 14th.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I was born the first time on march 14th, the Year of Our Lord 1430, amen.”, he dramatically declared, signing himself upside down.

“You are being childish, for a 590 year-old man.”

“That was fast math, I’m impressed.”

Couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. I opted for a classic, and rolled my eyes at him.

“I was hoping to see that delightful girlfriend of yours, Leah, was it ?”, he told me as we walked through the mostly empty corridors of the old building.

I sighed. “Not my girlfriend. She's at work today, and believe me, I would rather have spent the day with her.”

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that”, he hissed, falsely offended.

I was starting to get used to his company. Without being so drastic as to enjoy it, his presence at my side didn’t seem so ominous anymore. During my lectures, he had been listening intently, nodding along when I was in the right. I don’t know if he even noticed he did. Before every pause, he somehow slipped out of the room, and came back right as I dismissed class with coffee, and a written list of every historical character I mentionned, commenting on their personality, or their quirks. The whole time, he spoke in a hushed voice, half in french, so that no one but me would hear or understand. As a french person myself, I had never thought having a foreign accent was as sexy as everyone seemed to believe, which is why I worked on mine constantly. However. When he spoke french, the way he rolled his ‘r’s, or pronounced some words, sent darts to my chest. I sometimes had to gather all the strength of my will to listen to what he actually said.

Lost in thought, I almost didn’t notice we were almost at his car. As usual, he opened the door for me. For once, I didn't debate him, and just got in.

I plugged my iPod into the radio, and set my ‘driving at night’ playlist, masterfully crafted over the years. Not necessarily sad, but definitely not upbeat. Vlad didn’t say anything, but I caught him mouthing the lyrics of the chorus, once he caught them. I nestled into my seat, letting my head press against the window. I watched the street lamps light up the raindrops on the glass as they rolled down. The whole ride was quiet on our parts, but it didn’t feel awkward, as it often does. When he stopped in front of my building, I stopped the music, and hesitated a second. Before I got out, I turned to Vlad.

“Five minutes, wait for me at my window.”

Not leaving him the time to reply, I got out, and through the front door. I don’t think I ever climbed my stairs so fast. Locking behind me, I hurried to feed the monster, already trying to climb my leg in outrage, and shut myself in my room. As I expected, he was waiting outside, on the fire escape stairs. I opened the window, kneeling on my bed. He sat on the windowsill, waiting for me to talk.

“If we are to continue this…” I tried to find the appropriate term.

“Relationship ?”, he proposed.

“If we are to continue this”, I rephrased, gesturing to put emphasis, “I have to make some things clear.” He nodded, and I took a deep breath. “First, we don’t tell Leah what you are. I don’t want that on her mind. Second, you don’t murder people. I just can’t go around being friends with someone who drinks humans like Capri-Suns every night.”

“How do you suggest I feed, then ?”, he asked. I didn’t think about that. He leaned closer, grinning. “Are you offering yourself in exchange ?”

Instinctively, I jerked myself back to the edge of my bed. He apologised. Squinting at him, I sat back where I was. A bit too soon for that sort of jokes.

“Can’t you ‘go vegan’ ?”, I asked, air-quoting. “Eat animals ?”

He sighed. “I could. It doesn’t do me well, to be honest.” He looked... embarrassed. “You saw it firsthand. The horse just made me hungrier. Less… controlled.” He took a pause. “I would rather murder some humans than put you at risk again.”

I felt a tiny pinch to my heart. Ah. “Does it hurt ?”, I asked, in the only tiny whisper that managed to get out of my throat.

He snapped his head toward me. “I beg your pardon ?”

“Does it hurt, when you feed ? The people you feed on, I mean”, I added, a bit louder, yet still coming out squeaky.

He seemed to take a moment to debate his answer, taking an inspiration, and deciding against it a couple of times. “It does not”, he finally breathed out. “It takes you away, where you want to be most.”

A beach, infinite. A dark sky and a setting sun. Soft waves, and golden sand.

“Can you at least promise you won’t kill anyone ?”

“Ah !” He sighed, seeming relieved, and a bit disappointed. He looked back at me, with a soft smile. “They will dream, and not remember, or feel a thing. I promise.”

I slowly nodded, and propped myself up on the windowsill, feet still safely on my bed. I looked up at him, and his expression softened ever so slightly. The moon and the lampposts cast a blue and orange light on his features, playing along the curves and sharp edges of his face.

“Is that all, dear ?”, he asked.

“Don’t call me ‘dear’”, I instantly retorted.

“Fine, darling.”

I groaned, throwing my head back as I heard his soft laughter. As I brought my head back down, it was to find his hand, curled under my chin. His thumb brushed lightly past my lip, almost by accident, to finish on my cheek. My heart stopped a second. He hummed, and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“Sleep well, Eris.”

I breathed in, but just like that, he was gone, leaving me to look out for a bat, quickly vanishing in the night sky.

Someone, close, was also looking out for the bat as it flew over the rooftops. A ray of moonlight caught a glimpse of silver hair, the frost of a blue eye. It couldn’t happen again. Not after the last disaster, and the one before that. The thin, long fingers clenched so hard into their palms, drops of red tricked down, slowly. Before any drop could be lost to the ground, a pale tongue took care of it.

The Council wouldn’t be pleased.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @my-fanfic-library

#horse is mentioned #fanfic #fanfiction #dracula fanfiction #dracula x human #dracula x OC #dracula x reader #(ish) #romance #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #slow burn #things are going to go down soooooon #Sola Gratia #Sola Gratia part 8 #dracula #dracula bbc #dracula castlevania #bram stoker's dracula #dracula netflix

[goldstonegolem64]

Book 1 Hope returns  Chapter 46 Vanguard By goldstonegolem64

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9HJV1Ben6k

Galra central command

It had been about  eight teen hours since Root rot was sent to conquer and Zarkon was starting to get frustrated  with how long it was taking. 

“ Any word from the weed or any of the ship captains that were sent with him?” Zarkon asked 

After a few second of wait one of the transition officers spoke”  No my lord We are getting nothing but static . But before he did go dark we did receive a message from Root Rot group saying that they had run in with the Valkyrie. “ .

‘ I know that but it was seventeen vs one how could one man take on so many at once or maybe Voltron and or that titan was there as well  “ Zarkon said as he got up from his throne 

“ Should we send the twin or Skyver to assisted Root Rot in his mission?”

“ No he either succeed or he dies. I would rather not send those three to their  deaths. We will deal with at in do time “   Zarkon said as he was leaving the room “ Recall any Sub-commanders and commander that nearest to us, call back the nearest mobile repair bay and tell every refinery to double their work load we are going to need as many mans on deck just in case we are attacked In the coming days” Zarkon left the control room and walked towards Haggar’s lab. As he moved he walked passed dozens of soldiers  each one moved out of his way as they could see he was visibly angered by the failure of his commanders for not capturing voltron, for not stomping out the rebel cells that had been cropping up recently after voltron showed back up.

But then again he had grown complacent over the centuries believing that no foe could stand up to him and the empires might . But that all came back to bite him for not handling this problem himself. But that what project Titan was for .Zarkon stopped in front of the door way to Haggar’s lad then entered the room. As he entered the room he found Haggar looking out of a window .

“So how is the constructs of the Titan project going “   Zarkon said as he walked over to look out the same window 

‘ We are putting on the finishing touches from the data we’ve collected from ever battle that both the Valkyrie and Voltron had been in the past two months and have made the proper adjustments to face both of them at once but there is a draw back  to this upgrade.” 

“ And what is that my dear  “

“  You will need a full on neural link for it to control so if titan is destroyed it will most likely kill you.”

“Well we have the Lazarus protocol . Now on the statue of Root Rot and his men ?”

“All but two are alive and counted for. K-38 and K-2″

“So Root Rot Is dead then”

“ No he is most likely still alive,recovering and adapting  from this defeat. Now should we send a recover team to collect him along with an invasion force to the planet ?” Haggar asked 

“ No We have lost already to many men and recourses on one world and if Voltron and The Valkyrie are there we will lose so many more and with the twins and Skyver mechs being rebuild and upgrade and the new batch of Kurons being grown  and trained we would most likely lost . Speaking of which how is batch two training coming along?”

“ Worst then the first . We tried to lean more into the silver paladins altean d.n.a But this as caused those to come out mindless.”  Haggar walked over to her desk and showed a video of a Kuron in its test tube it looked liked an Altean with tan skin, red cheek marks and pink hair in their mid teens . They were just floating there in it’s pod doing nothing but growing  then the monitor at the front of the pod started to glow red. Then the scientists  in the lab moved  toward the pod and tried to figure out what was going on. Then the Kuron inside started to violently  morphing from a normal body and into a  gray scaled beast. It then Burst through the pod’s glass and attacked the scientist and ripped then apart. It then let out a roar that caused the surrounding kuronsin there pods to start to change as well. They then burst out and started to rampage through out the lad ripping into each other.

“   It seems like they have reverted to a more primitive Mind set if you remove the human D.n.a and try to fill in the gapes with Altean or Galran D.n.a.” Haggar said as she stopped the video 

“ So the silver Paladin is human and Altean so there are other Alteans still alive on the planet Earth then “  Zarkon said as a smile came across his face

“ Yes and no. The Silver paladin dose share some D.n.a with the black paladin but there seems to be small changes to their d.n.a . Like how the Silver paladin heart pumps blood slower then the Black paladins that tends to happen a kid is born in zero or artificial gravity.”

“So he was born on another world then. But there was no other planets in that solar system that could host life.” 

“ Well the first humans we had captured were on the ninth planet of their system. So there ma be colonies on other worlds or moons.”  

“ Alright then we’ll send a scouting ship to find this colony. Now have you found the traitor in are midst yet

“No I haven’t. “

“But we have “ Another voice said 

Both Zarkon and Haggar turned to look at the voice and were supriesd by who they saw.

Else where in the universe

Jay was sitting in the Med bay playing a game of chess against Pidge 

“  Are you sure your ok jay “Pidge  asked as she moved one of her pawns 

“ I’m fine my suit took most of damage and I’ve been through worse “ Jay replied as he moved his knight

“Jay your skin is bright ready and your smoking still are you sure your fine” pidge said as she moved another pawn .

“  It’s fine I’ll just shed of the dead skin of next time I shower next “ 

“ Wait you shed like a lizard  “ Pidge had a strange image in her head of Jay shedding like a snake 

Jay looked up from the chess board and looked perplexed by pidge’s statement “ Yes like a lizard would. “  Then he remembered pidge was not from mars “Sometimes I forget we come from different planets. So something normal to me is weird to you  and Vic-versa”  

“ That is true but still are you going to be alright after all that happened yesterday “ 

“Pigeon I’ve been sitting in this room four hours . I think I’m good at this point. Also Checkmate “

“What. “ Pidge looked at the board and saw that jay had moved his  rook right in front of her king then notice that the queen was behind it and had the bishop that move on black spaces was also aimed toward the rook” Uh didn’t see that coming.Good game jay “ 

“Finally after six game I won once and now I retire on top” Jay said as he shot both his hands up in joy.

“ Alright then so what do we do now “

“ We will jst a bit more before the others show “

“And what do when they ask about the big one sitting just out side of the city’s limits “

“Will let the others deal with at when they get here “ Jay replied 

‘[Captain The castle of lions as entered the planet’s orbit and Allura wishes for both of you to meet them at the as soon as possible}

“ Speak of the devil i guess we should head out then” jay said as he got up from his seat . “Hey Val did you leave the speeder here or is it still in your chest “ his said in his minded 

“ I left it just out the Prometheus’s cargo by door.” Val said 

“ Thank you” Jay said as he and pidge walked out of the med bay 

“ Your welcome  ‘ Val replied  

“ So were taking the not the green lion. “ Pidge asked 

“ Pidge it’s “ looked at his phone” 5 in the morning and people are sleeping so the bikes will do for now” Jay said as he walked down the ramp and saw his silver speeder which he called quick Silver. As he sat down and wait for pidge he saw the castle of lions slowly starting to descend from the clouds  on the other side of the city. As he watched the castle. Pidge riding her speeder” Alright lets go” Jay said as he and pidge drive towards where the castle was landing.

As the castle landed both Jay and Pidge arrived

“ So how do you think the others are going to react to see the big one ‘ Jay asked still sitting as the castle landed a few feet away 

“Don’t know but it’s going to be fun when they learn what happened here. Also do you wonder what happened on their missions “ pidge said as the door they were in front of started to open

“ Why don’t we ask them are selves “ Jay replied as he walked into the castle of lions  followed by Pidge the two walked onto the kitchen first and Found most of the crew  which was Matt, Hunk , Nyma, Rolo , Keith and Shiro sitting  at the table eating the food goo” Sup Guys how did your missions 

Adam spoke first “ We had some trouble but it was a” Adam was cut off by  a blueish green furred ferreteped  as Jay called them suddenly appeared in front of him and grabbed him by the face which kind hurt do to the electrical burns he suffered from the fight 

“ Oh no we truly are in the worst possible reality to be in . Unless it the reality . . What is your name boy “ Slav asked

Jay with his cheeks being stretched out spoke “ Jay Sorin and I’m guesting your Slav ” he replied 

“ Yes .Also if our here now then this realty still has a chance “ Slav said then he was grabbed by the back of the collar by Shiro and was pulled away

“ Sorry Jay He’ s been raving about of end of the world ending conspiracy theory the moment We said anything about the Valkyrie.”  Shiro said as he put Slav down

“ It’s not a Conspiracy it’s a strong possibility” Slav Counters 

Shiro and Slav started to argue about this while Jay and Adam watch and laughed a bit  

“So Hunk Keith Rolo, Nyma how did your mission go?” Pidge asked

“ Keith made a friend with a GAlra pilot “Hunk said

“ They were no my friend I just helped them out see as the five of us were inside of a giant space worm.” Keith replied 

“ but they liked you the most “ Nyma said jokingly 

“ Maybe Galra just know when their in the presents of one any other “ Hunk said 

“ That is true but only for pure bloods seeing as they are all fucking purple “  Jay yelled

“ Thank Jay for the info “ Keith said 

“ So they just were being polite because Keith saved them ok if it comes back to bite us in the butt that’ s on Keith then agreed ” Hunk said 

“ Agreed”  Everyone said 

“ That’s fair .Now Pidge What did you and Jay do while we were away ?” Pidge asked

“ Fought some robeasts and the guy who took my leg nothing to big “Pidge said like it was no big deal 

Everyone was quite for a few seconds before Matt speaking up “  Are you alright did you have a panic attack . Jay where were you during all this”  Matt asked as he looked towards jay 

“ I was being electrocuted for info you shmuck. Also I to was having a panic attack but no one asked if I was ok “ Jay said and that was followed by everyone asking what happened, Why the empire was here did they find out about the plan. As Jay and Pidge were bombard with questions 

“ Ok well answer all this questions but first we need everyone here to fully explained what happened here “ Pidge said 

In the bridge of the castle of lions Allura and coran were talking 

“Princess I have sent a message to the blade and Asmo  telling them about are success on all three of are mission. Is there anything else you would like me to do”   Coran asked 

“  I would like to Have Pidge, Jay, Beau, La-sai ,N-7 and Ace here to get me their mission nreport Also I would like to Talk with Ryner and Isara seeing as she and the Queens Sayers are hear. But besides that I’m good”  Allura said 

Coran could tell something was up with her.” Allura what is wrong you seem off’

Allura bite her lower lip then spoke “ I’m just a little bit worried about the Mission coming up . Maybe we should wait a little bit longer and train more so we can truly be ready for it”

Coran knew that wasn’t the full truth ” I feel the same they have only been paladins for a few months now and they lack the train or at time maturity, Hundreds of years of experience of fighting massive battles. But  I have watched them be on the same level of the original Paladins and I believe that they could be better then them and lead the universe in to a better tomorrow “ Coran smiles thinking about it”  

“ You know just what to say to put me at ease Coran.”She smiled and looked up to coran “ But I’m still worried about the others their so young and I kind of fell like I forced them into this roles with out truly thinking this through. Each one of them nearly at less once on this journey and I’m sending them into a Fight that decide the fate of the universe. “

“I may not know much about humans but from what I’ve seen they have sir pasted all of my expectation and beat ever challenge that came to face them. An I will bet on my life that they will beat this next challenge with flying colors  “ Coran said as he pulled Allura into a huge

“ I hope your right Coran I hope your right.” Allura said 

As the two hugged The door to the bridge opened to revel  the rest of the crew with Pidge and Jay at the front 

“ Hi boss sorry to interrupted but we have something important  to tell you.” Jay said 

“ What is it  “Allura asked 

The team wait for the rest of the crew to join and when they did Jay and Pidge explained what had happened from when they arrived to the fight with Robeast and the squad of copy Valkyrie then the fight with the Thunder Bird and Dread wing. Then the Battle with Root Rot. Everyone stood there in shook as they listened to how Jay was for the second time was nearly killed by the plant man again.

“ So This IronWood guy Called you Dad ?” Lance said just a little weirded out 

“Yeah an the other guy black thorn said like me when I was a teenager witch confused me as well . If they were still alive we could have asked them about that but we still have one of those pilot’s still alive hows that memory collecting going anyway ?”   Jay asked Coran 

“ It’s been going fine and we will fine out soon what that pilot knows in about two more days .” Coran replied ]

‘Ok Is there any thing else you too want to tell Us “Allura asked as she looked at the both of them .

“ Oh that  Jay call Val “Pidge said 

“ On it “ Jay said before talking in his mind “Val It’s time” 

“ We are on are way” Val said This was followed by Music started to play over the comm and the world started to shake 

“ What is that “ Shiro asked

“ That would be are Ace in the hole “Pidge said as she walked up to the terminal punched in a location and a scan appeared showing the Vanguard walking from a massive crated that had something in it covered in Ice and Vines.”   Ladies and Gentlemen we give you the colossus Vanguard the unbreakable and Allura she would like to speak to you and Voltron I don’ t know what that means but I think Shiro might know” 

“ I Do Pidge. Paladin to your lion “ shiro said as he and the rest of the paladins left the bridge

Back a Galra central command 

Thace had decide to move the chip he place in the control room .As he walked to the control room  he felt for just a moment that someone was watching him again. HE looked behind him to see no one behind him. This sent a chill down his spine but he continued to walk towards the control room as he entered the control room. Some one tried to stab him. He quickly grabbed the wrist of his assailant and was about to punch them only to have his free hand grabbed  by someone else in the room followed by a knife stabbing into his leg. He fell to his knee and then was punched in the face. He looked to his right to see Harley smiling at him Then he looked to his left to see Quinn. Both were standing over him. Then they started to whale on him . Each punch  cracked against his face and he could fell his skull crack and his jaw being dislocated. after a few minutes of being beaten on. With his jaw busted he could only say one word “ Why?” 

Quinn moved in closer and whispered in Thace’s ear  “Sorry about this Thace but it’s the only way to make whatever your planning work in are favor “  

Then Harley leaned in “ Look around the room “ 

He looked up again to see serval things about the room. The first thing was that the cameras were destroyed and there was a body of a control room officer knocked out. Then he noticed that the console in the room had a familiar  looking blade in it. Then something clicked in his mind he remembered that there was two blade members that started a family they had kids twins. Both parents dead on a mission leaving the twin. The blade wanted to take the twins in but sadly they had disappeared before and could be found. “  You”

“ Yes we are but we aren’t going to join your little group we just want out of the empires control “Quinn whispered as she and her brother picked up and dragged him out of the room towards Lady Haggar’s lab 

Back with the Paladin

Voltron flow towards the Vanguard with the Valkyrie in toe

Allura stood in the cockpit of the black lion and started at the colossal purple Knight as it stopped and looked up towards the two mechs 

“Shiro before we talk to the Vanguard my I ask when pidge said  that the vanguard wanted to talk to Voltron and you knew what she meant. I just wonder how”

“ I though you knew about me seeing as you are bonded lion” Shiro replied

“ No I don’ t maybe your bond with the black lion is deeper then my own.”

“ Yes and no. You know how Val is Different from the Valkyrie.”  

“ Yes “ Allura replied as she started to see where this was going 

“ Well besides the lions that live in each part of Voltron I’m guessing he is the “

“ I am the Lions young Shiro “ Leonidas said out loud in all the lions  

Everyone was quiet for a few seconds before Hunk spoke up 

“ Who the heck was that?” Hunk asked 

“ I am Leonidas the prideful or as you all call me Voltron “ 

“ So You final decide to reveal yourself good I was tired of waiting “Val said

“ So this guy is the same as Val right . So dose that mean he can fight on his own when were not around to pilot the lions?” Lance asked 

“No I was not build that way.  Where The Valkyrie can pilot  herself do to the fact that she doesn't  have to split herself into five different pieces. But I make up for that by being more flexible with my pilots and each pilot will unlock different abilities. “  

“ But I can manipulate time and I can scan anything and turn it into a weapon. “ 

“ I can rip a hole in the fabric of reality “

Everyone could felt tension between the two that only sibling would have. It was a little awkward until the Vanguard spoke over the comms 

“ And I can open portals to any where I’ve been to which is all of what you called the know universe. Make barriers around me and I can came gravity balls that can pull in and destroy it. “ The vanguard sounded happy to be able to take to other of their kind and completely missed the tension between the Valkyrie and Voltron. “ Sorry if I interrupted what you were doing I’ m just happy to finally meet more of my own kind after being alone for so long a can’t wait to hear everything you’ve seem the past billion years “

“  Before we do that Lady Allura must ask you something” Val said 

“ Yes this is of most important that we know your awnser “ Leonidas said 

“ Oh ok” Vanguard replied 

“ Your up Princess” Shiro said as he turned on the Black lions Outer p.a System 

Allura then spoke “ Hello Vangaurd I am princess Allura of Altea and I request your in are battle against the Galra Empire You do now about the empire right?” Allura asked

“ Thank you for asking. They are current in control of 80 percent of the knew universe and have been draining world of their quintessence to furl their war machines and to keep their Leader and  his wife alive for the passed ten thousand years. And I would like to join you in stopping them. But I will save this I don’  t like fighting all that much. I only fight in self defends and to protect the animals that live inside of me . But what I can do is open wormhole that allow you and the rebels you work with to any place you want to go and any planet or place you want protected I can do that. But I will not put the creatures I care for in harms way but if yo are in dyer need of my help I will fight but only as a last resort  ”   Vanguard said 

“Well at least they know their boundaries . “ Lance said 

“ And where their loyalty lay “ Keith replied 

“ Ok as long as we can count on you when we need you must. That is fine by me “  Allura said 

“ Ok with that out of the way can I ask Both Val and Leonidas a few things ?”  Vangaurd asked 

“ I see no problem with That” Val said 

“ Neither do I”  Leonidas add 

“ Alright time to wait a the next few hours while this three talk “ Pidge said 

As The Vanguard , Val And Leonidas started Talk they switched to a Language that the universal translator couldn’t  understand. But that didn’t really matter to the paladins at the moment they were just happy to have the Vangaurd now truly on there side. But Allura still felt nervous about the battle to come.

Else where in the Crate the cyclone covered in ice and Vines lay there motionless but near the head there was the sounds slamming and sizzling as Root Rot started to break free of his frozen prison . As he burst free from the finally layer of ice. he let out a roar of anger and  as his body had turn from green to brown do to how cold it was. He started to pull  himself out of the exit hole he made and As he did his legs broke of as he continued to pull himself out and crawled to the edge of what remained of the Cyclones head and rolled himself of and ihit the ground hard shattering most of his body leaving only his left arm and head in tacked 

“Cold I H-h-hate the cold” He tried to regrow his missing limbs only for nothing to happen. His body was dying and he need to reset.So he unraveled himself and started digging into the soft earth that the rain and the melting ice had made for him .It would take a few years for him to heal completely  from this fight but it would be all worth it as while he rested he would adapted to the cold an along with that he would start to grow a new colony for his clan with the only thing fueling them is Revenge Bloodlust and a need for fresh meat 

#voltron #Allura #vld adam #takashi shirogane #adashi #kieth kogane #kidgance #kidge #plance #klance #au #OC #hunay #hunk garrett #vld coran #vld shay #RAX #NYMA #rolo #pidge gunderson #matt holt #CANON DIVERGENCE

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26 Chapter 27

The weekend had come and Kaleb was getting ready to see many of his comrades-in-arms once more. As he was helping Ulfgar with some of the preparations for the upcoming party, he remembered asking his old friend if he had taken Amalthia's ring size measurement.

"Hey Ulf. Have you, by any chance, had time to find out how big a ring will Amalthia need?"

The old norn stopped his work, smiled at his friend then waved for him to come forward. "Come, lad. I've something to show you."

The massive norn took Kaleb to the upstairs room he resided in during his off hours. When he saw the decorations in Ulfgar's sleeping quarters, he was amazed at the number of sculptures and paintings.

Ulfgar opened an ornate wooden chest then pulled out a small wooden box and handed it to Kaleb.

"Open it, lad."

When Kaleb did, he could hardly believe what he saw. Tucked inside the mahogany box was a large diamond ring with a solitaire, brilliant-cut gem.

"My gods, where did you get this? It's…" Kaleb was at a loss for words.

"Beautiful, yes? It was crafted from dwarven gold filigree and the stone was set by one of the finest jewelers in Lion's Arch. Take it, lad. It's yours to give to your love."

"I... I don't know what to say, Ulf. All I wanted was a measurement. I would have eventually found a ring."

"No, lad. The both of yas are like me own adopted kids. I want you to have it, and I won't take no for an answer." The old norn handed him the box.

Kaleb examined the diamond and marveled at its brilliance. "Where did you get this rock?"

Ulfgar walked over to his late wife's dresser and pulled out the tiara. Kaleb could clearly see that the largest stone was missing.

"Ulf. No. I can't accept this."

"Like I said, lad. It's yours. My dear Glorina would be smiling from the Mists right now if she saw a part of her go to you and your mate."

Kaleb bowed in respect to his long time friend then pulled out a bag of gold coins and handed them over. The old norn refused the offer.

"This is a gift, friend. Use the gold elsewhere, perhaps to buy Amalthia a fancy wedding gown," Ulfgar said with a warm smile.

"This is such an honor, Ulf. I'll never forget this. Thank you!"

"No, boy. The honor is all mine."

***

Evening came and several of Kaleb's Seraph army buddies arrived at the Jotun's Corpse to reunite with their comrades-in-arms once more. He had not seen his two closest friends in several months and having them visit their old haunt felt like old times.

"So you're a Lieutenant in the army now, right?" Kaleb asked his friend Cynthia.

"Yes, indeed. Made rank just a couple of weeks ago. So where's the misses?"

Kaleb looked at the front door and pondered. "She went on a few errands. She should be back at any moment."

Brad walked through the door as he held it open for someone else who was entering. It was Amalthia.

"Look who followed me in," Brad said as he turned to help her with some items she was carrying.

Kaleb and Cynthia immediately leapt off their barstools to help her out. Almost immediately, Amalthia was greeted by hugs from both Brad and Cynthia. Kaleb gave her a kiss then carried the items she had bought to their upstairs room.

"It's so good to see you, Ama. How've you been?" Cynthia asked.

Amalthia twitched her ears and smiled. "Just great! Kal and I have been crazy busy with expanding our little business venture."

"Yeah, I heard. Our folks heard about the way the two of you cleaned out that pack of undead over in Seaside Village. Nice piece of work there." Brad complimented her.

"Thanks. He and I work so well together. The coin we earn is just a nice perk."

Ulfgar walked up and boldly gave both Cynthia and Brad a big hug. "So good to see the two of yas again. No worries, all drinks are on the house."

"Ulfgar!" Both of them said in unison as they returned his hug.

"So you're Kaleb's new landlord? I knew that slob could never afford a place on his own," Brad said in jest.

"I heard that, bro. And who says I can't afford it... huh?" Kaleb returned the jab and laughed.

Ulfgar passed out the drinks as Kaleb and Amalthia snuggled close together and Brad and Cynthia did the same.

"I heard you guys have been knee-deep fighting the undead up in Sparkfly. Making any headway?" Kaleb asked.

Brad took a draught and shook his head. "It's a stalemate right now. Those Orrians are endless. It seems like every time we de-animate a bunch, at least two dozen more crop up."

A small, skinny, shaggy-haired young man came running into the bar shouting to the top of his lungs in a panic.

"A bunch of charr are heading this way. They've got weapons galore."

Amalthia looked up and cheered. "It's my warband!"

Kaleb looked at the young man. "It's okay, Flipper. They're Ama's friends... I least I hope they are."

She pointed towards the door and nodded with a smile as she waved to them once they entered. "Hey guys, over here!"

One by one, members of the Blade warband stepped though as humans in the tavern backed away in fear. The leader of the group, Krenesh, seemed to relish in their fear and made every effort to accentuate his menacing facial expression. Navina followed, acting indifferent to the people around her. Bogo and Tovu, on the other hand, made it a point to wave at everyone in the establishment.

"Greetings members of the mighty Blade warband. As owner and proprietor of the Jotun's Corpse, I bid you a warm welcome," Ulfgar said as he waved them over and offered them a selection of drinks.

Amalthia leaped off her seat and gave each member of her warband a traditional charr style handshake by grasping at the base of the forearm. She started with her leader; Krenesh then did the same for each one until she worked her way to Tovu.

"Hey. How did you make it into our warband?"

Tovu said sheepishly. "Nice to see you Amalthia. All of my bandmates were killed in a separatist attack. I was the only survivor. Thus, I became a gladium. If it weren't for Bogo, here, I would still be one too."

Kaleb, meanwhile, reached out his hand to Krenesh. "It's good to see you again, sir. I hope all is well with the Blades."

Remembering their last odd encounter, Krenesh only returned a half-hearted handshake. "Yeah. Couldn't be better. Is the beer around here any good?"

Navina shook her head. "Is that always the first thing you've gotta ask whenever you go someplace new?"

"Oh. Good to see you too, Navina." Kaleb saluted her as well.

She held up her stein returning the gesture. "Same goes for you, loverboy."

"Navi, I missed you!" Amalthia said as she gave her warband sister another hug and clanked her stein in toast.

"Missed you too, cub. So now you and this human are a permanent pair, right?"

"For as long as the other draws breath. Yup!"

As Krenesh began drinking from his mug, Brad approached him from the side.

"So you're the leader of Ama's warband? Name's Brad Pendragon - second in command and best friend to that joker over there," he said as he pointed in Kaleb's direction.

"Damn straight. Mine's Krenesh Howlingblade, but everyone calls me Kren. I heard you're pretty mean with a shortbow. Ranger, I take it?"

Brad smiled as he pointed to himself with pride. "Yup! Mid ranged is my specialty. In fact, I've got a whole team under me who covers that element of the battlefield. Most attackers are caught completely off guard by our strong midline defense."

"Don't listen to this guy. If given the chance, he will brag you ear off all day," Cynthia said as she reached out to the warband leader for a handshake. "Lieutenant Cynthia Waterstone, Thirty First Platoon - I'm in command of this loser here."

Brad looked at her in surprise. "Loser? Wasn't I your fiancé just a few days ago?"

"Like I said, loser." She had to rub it in further.

Kaleb overheard the conversation. "Woah. So you finally worked up the nerve and proposed to her?"

Cynthia laughed.

"Forget it. It was I who proposed to him!"

Brad tilted up his mug and swallowed. "That's what I like, a woman who is aggressive."

"She's your mate, then?" Krenesh asked.

Brad laughed. "I guess you could call her that. She's more like my boss."

Krenesh looked at him straight in the eyes and said in a much more serious tone. "Never let her out of your sight when in battle. I can tell you this from experience, there's nothing worse then... seeing something bad happen to someone you care about."

The charr staggered off with the mug in his hand. Amalthia noticed then walked up to Brad to fill him in on the details.

"Kren lost his closest mate in battle. He still gets worked up anytime subjects like this come up."

Brad bowed his head. "I'm so sorry, Ama. I didn't know. Please give him my condolences."

"It's okay. Navi just told me that Mia was expecting cubs when she was killed."

Navina rapidly gulped down a tall mug of ale while sitting alone at the edge of the bar. As she did so, a scrawny unkempt human approached her from the left side and asked in a leering voice; "um, what kind of drink do ya have there?"

The big female charr took another swig then glanced down at the strange looking little man.

"Alcohol."

"Um. What kind, exactly?" He asked in a sheepish voice.

Her gazed pierced his beady little eyes. "Who wants to know?"

"Lager?"

She shook her head.

"Mead?"

She growled.

"Um... Ale! That must be it!"

"You guessed right after your third try. That must make you pretty smart... for a human."

Flipper smiled upon hearing those words. "May I buy you a drink?"

Her gaze turned to a scowl. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

"Well, I uhh..."

"Cause if you were, I would claw your damn eyes out. Just because my warband sister is into your kind doesn't mean the rest of us are," Navina snarled as she took another draught of ale.

Kaleb saw what was transpiring and rushed in to intervene. "Flipper! What's up, my man!"

"Ohh. Hi, Kal. I was just offering this lovely lady a round of ale," the scrawny kid said nervously.

Kaleb put his hand on the boy's back and laughed. "Look, Flip. She's really not your type. Trust me on this. How about you run to the back and fetch us some fresh casks. Okay?"

"Wait, I was just..."

He was interrupted. "No buts... just go. After all, a thirsty charr is a cranky charr. Now run along."

Reluctantly, Flipper yielded to Kaleb's demands and headed towards the cellar.

Navina looked at Kaleb and commented. "You just saved that meat's life. Any longer and I would have had to wipe his remains off from under my boot."

"Flipper's not a bad kid. He just wants to screw anything that's got a hole somewhere between the legs. I've had to chase him out of the sheep pen on more than one occasion." Kaleb chuckled.

"What's with you male humans and sheep?" Navina shook her head in utter revulsion.

The two male charrs, Bogo and Tovu, noticed a large rectangular object hanging above the bar. Realizing what it was, Tovu asked in an enthusiastic tone, "I wonder what time it is?"

Bogo looked at a nearby cogwheel clock. "Oooo. It's almost time!"

"Hey. Bartender - anyway you can turn that thing on? Project Transmog is about to come on."

Ulfgar shook his head.

Why in the Great Bear Spirit's name did I allow that asuran to talk me into purchasing one of these things?

"Hold on. Let me find the control."

The two charrs looked at each other and grinned ear-to-ear.

Ulfgar found the remote and flipped on the device. Within seconds, the once blank rectangle was now filled with an image of a female sylvari preparing various vegetarian cuisines.

A human patron shouted out loud. "Put it on the Arena Channel. There's supposed to be a tar pit death match between the Twin Sons of Destruction and the Annihilators."

Ulfgar grumbled as he started flipping through the channels.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Bernie Lomax show. I am your host, Bernie Lomax. Today's topic - gods, do they or don't they actually exist?"

He flipped through to another channel.

This channel depicted a large male charr holding a blowtorch as he began welding together a part to a massive war tank. "Today on Heavy Thunder, we are gonna soup this baby up with five turrets and twenty..."

Ulfgar flipped the channel once more. Krenesh called out. "Hey! Leave it there! I wanted to watch that!"

Bogo and Tovu said in unison. "We called it first!"

Flipping the channel once more to a garden show then to a travel program, Ulfgar finally commented. "Y'know. It is this thing that will truly be the doom of Tyria."

The revelries continued into the early morning hours as Kaleb's and Amalthia's friends had become more acquainted with each other. By this time, Krenesh discovered that he had much in common with Brad and the two of them shared war stories until both were passed out from too much drink. Likewise, Cynthia and Navina found common ground in discussions involving the male species. Bogo and Tovu were beside themselves when Amalthia showed them the outfits that Ariyana had designed. Each of them gave their opinion on the style and composition of the garments as well as which one looked the best on whom.

Once the festivities had ended, both Amalthia and Kaleb were exhausted - not to mention, quite inebriated. Kaleb found enough strength in his body to hoist his passed out mate into his arms and lay her out onto their bed. As she lay prostrate across the sheets, snoring with drool dripping from the side of her muzzle, Kaleb couldn't help but smile. His mind, however, was clear enough to plan what he wanted to do the following day. He clutched the boxed ring in his hands for a moment then carefully slid it beneath the bed, safely out of her sight.

Tomorrow was going to be the big day.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 27 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #guildwars fanfiction #tyrias-library #the outliers #kaleb and amalthia #charr #gw2 human

[hannahmcne]

Constellations - Ben vs Hades

"I'm not sure who has more hate; all of the old villains and their children for being locked away in poverty for twenty years, or you because that sweet boy has his arm around our daughter." Maleficent hummed, wrinkling her nose as she twisted the charmed shackles on her wrists.

Hades snarled. "Don't know why you call him sweet. We both know you hate him just as much as I do."

Maleficent nodded in distaste, giving up on trying to wrestle her hands free and slumping back into the couch with her red wine in hand. She'd been allowed to attend the before-wedding party that the palace threw the night before the night before Ben and Mal were married(The actual night before was reserved for gender-specific festivities, she was told), but was still required to wear the charmed shackles that forbid her use of magic. It was like a second engagement party, but only for the bride and groom's friends and family. It was being held at the palace, on an entire floor of the palace. The wedding party was gathered in a small study/lounge area with large velvet couches and thick plush pillows and heavy beanbags slung around the area. Elaborate paintings were hung between gold wall furnishings and dozens of bookcases. The palace had pulled out dozens of different types of drinks for their guests to enjoy as the night passed in celebration.

Ben and Mal were standing behind a couch about ten feet away, laughing as Ben's parents regaled them with tales of Ben's youth and of their first impressions of Mal. Hades's blood boiled. His daughter's in-laws, the Beast and Belle. The very people who'd locked them away for all those years. Their son, the High King, had the nerve to put his arm around his daughter. To call her his Queen. To kiss her and act as if they belonged together. Why, it made him want to-

"Don't light the couch on fire," Maleficent sniffed. "And I hope you're not blaming me for all of this. You know how I raised that girl. I'm sure the rumors got to wherever you were hiding."

Mal glanced over the shoulder of one of her friends – the Jafar kid, if Hades remembered correctly, and smiled a little while raising an eyebrow. Hades forced a smile back, even as King Ben leaned his forehead against Mal's head with a smile. A glass was in her hand – some sort of alcohol. That was another thing Hades didn't like. How was she old enough to be drinking alcohol already? And getting married? And being Queen?

Mal looked away and Hades dropped his smile in favor of a scowl. He seized his own drink – something a palace attendant had brought him – and took a swig. "It's not all about you, Maleficent. And for the record, maybe you should go back to whatever hole you were hiding in."

"And miss this party?" Maleficent asked with a raised eyebrow, examining her nails. She'd been back in human form ever since Mal had brought her back to the Isle of the Lost – after all, evil magic didn't work there. "I don't think I've seen you this worked up since you left her behind."

"I didn't leave her behind," Hades snapped, drawing an end to the conversation going on behind the other couch. Belle, Beast, and the eight other villain kids who were being invited to attend plus the one Auradon girl, a dark-haired girl in a blue dress, all turned to watch Hades hold aloft a finger as he glared at Maleficent. "I left you behind."

"And you left her with me, and therefore you left her behind," Maleficent hummed. "And no matter what you do or say, you have lost out on that time forever. Now she's going to be married, and you've known her for less than she's known that boy." She nods at Ben, whose arm loosens a little around Mal's shoulders as a frown makes her forehead crease. Belle and Beast exchange glances like they don't know what to do and Maleficent takes a sip of her drink before she continues. "I raised her. I'm the reason she's even here. He called for the daughter of Maleficent to be removed from the Isle, not the daughter of Hades. I deserve to be here."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Mal butts in, glowering a little at them both. "You haven't seen each other since before I can remember and once this is over you can go to opposite sides of the Isle and not speak to each other for an equally long time. For now, though, this is about Ben and I. Our happiness; our future; our marriage. Can't you just be civil and come talk to us for two hours before you never have to interact again? You wanted to be here."

"I didn't realize you'd be inviting the deadbeat who beats the dead," Maleficent scoffed, standing up and brushing her robes off a little. "Where's that helmet of invisibility when you need it?"

"Mom," Mal stares. But Hades stands up with balled fists and hisses a little as he starts to speak.

"When you die," He begins, hair catching fire a bit as he glares at his daughter's mom, "I get your soul. And believe me, I have an eternal punishment all laid out for you."

"Could you step out please?" A new authoritative tone overtakes the room. Belle and Beast step away from their son a little as he drops his arm off of Mal's shoulders and loops her arm around his instead. "If you can't put aside bygones, we'd rather you settle them somewhere where we can't hear you."

"You know, I have a question!" Hades snapped, gesturing at the young king. "Why him? You want to get married, fine! You want to be a Queen, I'll take you to Olympus! I'm sure Zeus wouldn't object to making you a god after everything that happened. But why this family and this boy, after everything they did to us?"

"The Isle wasn't Ben's fault!" Mal declared, advancing to put her hand on the back of the couch that was currently separating Hades from her. "And Belle and Adam had no clue what they were doing. And in case you've forgotten, Ben is the king who's undoing everything!"

"Mal," Ben put his hand on Mal's shoulder. "Fighting isn't going to fix anything."

"Oh, do I get a speech, now?" Hades demanded. He crossed his arms and fumed.

Ben and Mal turned and examined each other with a sigh, and then Mal gave a little nod. Ben looked up at Hades and then gestured to the door. "Can you walk with me a moment?"

Jay, one of Mal's friends, choked at about the same moment that Maleficent let out a laugh. "You want to put him-" She stuck a thumb out at Ben, "And him-" She turned a finger to Hades, "In close quarters, alone?"

"Yeah, um…" Cruella's son took a sharp inhale, "Are you sure about this, Ben?"

"Come on, Mom," Mal nodded to the hall as well. "It's you and me."

Ben put a hand to the small of Mal's back as he guided her past him, and then watched as she waited by the door. Maleficent got up after a moment of debate and together, mother and daughter left the room. As soon as she had vanished, Ben straightened up and made a gesture to the same hall. Hades fumed for a few seconds. His daughter wasn't around. He could always send the boy to the underworld early… come up with some sort of freak accident.

"Hades," Ben called. "Come walk with me."

Everyone looked a little wary of sending the king out with the God of the Undead, but no one protested. Hades growled a little, a sound that made the former Beast rumble, and then headed for the door. King Ben held it ajar until he'd passed through, and then shut it firmly behind them with a click.

Hades felt his nostrils flare as he glared at the young boy. "Quite the show," He snarled. "Where are we going now?"

"To the left," Ben nodded down the hall. "Mal would have gone to the right because that's the quickest route to her room. The left leads to the balcony. Come on, let's go look at the stars." He walked past Hades and continued down the hall, and really, now would be a great time to attack; the young king's back was turned. But he swallowed his rage and continued down the hall. They came to a set of double doors, which Ben opened and left ajar before he approached the balcony and leaned out over the railing to see the ground below. Hades stayed in the doorway as Ben glanced all around.

"You could come up and lean against the railing with me if you like," Ben invited. Hades snarled, and the boy glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Okay," he shrugged. "Want to talk about Mal?"

"Mal?" Hades snapped. "Mal, yes, let's talk about Mal. Let's talk about how you've known her for, what, two years?"

"Eight-hundred-and-twenty-four days," Ben nodded. "And we've been together for Eight-hundred-and-twenty-one. And tomorrow, those numbers will go up. And the day after, I get to start a new number."

"You keep track of these things?" Hades spiked an eyebrow, acting unimpressed even though he was secretly dumbfounded.

"I like numbers," Ben nodded. "Language was never a strong suit of mine. Just ask Mal. She can go on for days about how I like to make up words."

Hades let the fire in his hair dim and slowly took a half-step out. Ben cocked his head to the side, staring up at the stars. "Think Mal managed to calm your ex-wife down?"

"Can anything calm her down?" Hades scoffed. He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Now, if you have an agenda to bringing me out here, you might as well state your case."

"I don't," Ben shook his head. "Well, I guess I figured you could use a break from Maleficent. I bet that seeing me with your daughter is probably pretty grating too. But hey, what if I was just hoping to talk and get some advice from you?"

"Advice?" Hades repeated, slowly.

Ben nodded. He set his chin on his fist and continued examining the stars. He hadn't glanced at Hades once since coming out here, but the God of the Underworld figured that that wasn't out of fear. The ghost of a smile crossed the lad's face, and then his composure lit up like a spark. "We haven't really discussed my punishment, either. You know, if things go sour and I break her heart."

"You will die a slow death," Hades declared immediately. "And I will see to it that you are put in endless torment."

Ben finally turned to meet his eyes. He shook his head. "That's not enough," He whispered. "I'd do that on any old day just for her entertainment. If I break her heart, you've got to come up with something awful."

Hades's wicked grin fell a bit slack and he examined the boy. "You don't know what you're asking," He warned with narrowed eyes. Ben only turned his head to the side. "How does rolling a stone up a mountain for the rest of eternity sound?"

"Can't be any different from fighting for her every day," Ben replied earnestly.

"I could have vultures feeding on your liver for the rest of eternity," Hades offered, a bit mystified at the way the boy was turning him down. Ben kept his intense, disapproving gaze, however.

"That still doesn't seem like enough," He whispered.

Hades quit offering. He rested his palms on the railing and looked up at the stars. Among the many heavenly lights, he could see Hercules and Pegasus and Bootes, all descendants of his brothers and Mal's cousins. "What advice did you want?" He whispered.

"What fails a marriage?" Ben asked. "You've probably seen many come and go, not to mention your own. I honestly don't see very many bad examples around me. What can I do to keep mine from failing?"

Hades considered the question. Now, rest assured that he hated this boy with every fiber of his being, but he did adore the way Mal looked with him, so he supposed he shouldn't maim or scare the boy too hard. This wasn't to say, though, that he wasn't impressed with the maturity of the question. "Every hour is about commitment." He mumbled. "And marriage is a two-way street. If she goes one way, you either buckle down and stick with her or you stick to your path. Things get rocky when you go in opposite directions. It's like… you know those games where kids tie two legs together and try to walk? You've got to commit to walking with her in order to make it somewhere."

Ben nodded along to all of his words, furrowing his brow to show his deep thinking, and Hades couldn't hold back a little smirk. Ben looked up at him, expression calm, and clasped both of his hands together. "Is there anything you want to know about her?" He whispered. "I could probably tell you a lot."

Hades was, once again, taken aback by the question. He leaned forward into the balcony, and the light in his hair extinguished completely. What did he want to know about Mal? He should know more than this boy, but he didn't, and that was a tough pill to swallow. And now the king was offering him knowledge about his own daughter. Hades clapped his own hands together, mirroring Ben, and let out a heavy sigh. "What can you tell me?" He asked.

"When we sit down to dinner, she switches the silverware around to rebel against the formal setting," Ben began. "And she hates sauces with a passion. Ketchup is her worst enemy. It's only useful for pranks. And in meetings, she's made this game of signs that she and some of her friends in the court play. They all try and flash signs at each other, but if anyone asks what's going on or catches them, the game is over. She likes the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner bottles and turns the light off to shower because it reminds her of the Isle."

Hades frowned a little as Ben turned over his thoughts. All these things he had missed… all these things that this boy knew that he didn't. It kind of stung. He folded his fingers together and rotated his thumbs around each other, and then turned to Ben. "How'd you convince your parents to let you date her?" He asked.

Ben glanced sideways with a little smile tugging at his lips. "I told them they didn't really get a say in it," He answered.

Hades laughed and then looked from the night sky to the ground below. The air, cool and comforting, was making his skin feel soft. He watched the greenery in the darkness down below. It would be so, so easy to shove him over the balcony now. Yet, somehow, it didn't seem as satisfying as it had a few minutes ago.

Maybe the boy wasn't worthy of her, but could he be the most worthy? And if Mal had chosen him… maybe he should bear with him. For her sake. After all, he'd missed eighteen years of her life. If he missed these years where she was settling into her own as queen because she decided she didn't want him around, then…

"Why did you choose her?" He asked, turning to face Ben head-on. He put on a stern, immovable face, but Ben didn't seem fazed as he glanced back over at Hades.

"Who wouldn't?" He asked.

"A hero's son?" Hades suggested, baring his teeth a little.

Ben examined him with the air of an emotion that wasn't indifference, confidence, or amusement, as he had been displaying all night long. Instead, the boy seemed a bit… disappointed. Ben stood up straight and put his hands into his pockets before letting his chin drop onto his chest as he debated what to say. "Mal is not, and never will be, a redemption story. Not to me. People like to favor me and say I was the catalyst that brought her to good. Even Mal likes to simplify it to that. But it wasn't me. It was all her. She was glorious and good and powerful and fair. Even when she was drawing lines between the Isle and Auradon, she was always a fair judge, a rightful ruler. Our story isn't the poster boy drawing the bad girl out of the darkness. It's about her choosing a path she liked and me choosing her despite everyone telling me it was a bad idea. We worked together to get where we are, and I think that's what marriage is really about. When we work together, great things happen. The harder things get, the better they turn out. I'm not marrying her so I can achieve some title of the dragon-conqueror, or so I can have an easy happily-ever-after. I'm marrying her because I want to spend the rest of my life helping her become who she's meant to be, and I hope she'll return the favor."

Hades closed his mouth. There was no arguing there. The boy's words even made him wonder what his life would be if he had stuck for Maleficent for even a little bit longer. Maybe she'd be less of a monster. Maybe he would be.

"You're going to watch after her?" He whispered in the dark.

"No, but I'll help her if she needs it," Ben replied.

"Wake up with her every single day?" Hades asked.

"Not if I'm already up and doing something for her," Ben answered.

"Not going to let her get hurt?"

"She's going to get hurt. I can't prevent that. But I'll be there to help her get better."

"If she falls?"

"I'll stand beside her and see if she needs help getting back up,"

"And when you're both old?"

"Then we'll be old together and we'll handle that like the rest of our problems – together."

"In sickness and in health?"

"Until my very last heartbeat."

The air was still. The stars were winking down at them with the same charismatic attitude that teenage boys winked at teenage girls with. Two men, with millennia, experience, and a purple-haired girl between them, stared up at the skies in silence, watching the galaxy as it unfolded out around them. Everything except the palace behind them and the surrounding city lights was dark. Out across the ocean, electric lights from the Isle of the Lost served as a cheery beacon of change.

Ben reached out and put a hand on Hades' shoulder. "I'd like to ask for your blessing," He murmured. "I would have asked before I gave her my ring if I had known who you were. I would have journeyed all the way to the Isle to try and do things the proper way. Will you grant me this, now?"

Hades stared into the king's eyes. He tried to find any reason he shouldn't, but none came to mind. The boy had worked to be Mal's companion since before he'd ever known her. That certainly counted for something. Surely, no one else could give her what he could.

"You break her heart and I'm coming for your soul," He warned.

"I'll hand it over myself," Ben whispered.

Hades snorted and brushed Ben's hand off his shoulder. "Alright," He decided. "I give you my blessing."

Ben's smile created a new light in the arena as he chuckled, looking happier than he had all night. His eyes shifted to the hall, and then he laughed. "Mal and Maleficent should be back by now," He announced. "Do you want to go in?"

Hades waved him on. "Go ahead," He snorted. "I need some time to myself before I'm trapped in close quarters with my ex-wife again."

Ben laughed again, mirth evident in his tone, and turned towards the doors. Hades turned back to the railing and lifted his head up to continue examining the stars. There was Cygnus and Andromeda and Draco…

"Thanks for the advice, dad," Ben called from the doorway. Hades remained still for a few seconds as he formulated a response, and then glanced over his shoulder a little to raise an eyebrow at the lad.

"I think you taught me more than I taught you, son," He replied.

Ben laughs again, his smile even brighter, and yeah, Hades does understand why his daughter would like this boy because, let's face it, he is a good-looking king. Then the suit-clad man turns and disappears. Hades returns to the stars. He's never actually put a constellation up before. The 'eternal glory' thing was always more attributed to Poseidon and Zeus. But, he reasons, maybe tonight's a good night to change that.

He puts his daughter into the sky, right next to the man she's chosen to love, and now he'll see her happiness every time he looks up.

Inside, the party rages on, full-force. Maleficent is silent, with rubbed raw eyes and shaking hands as she nurses a glass of white wine. Mal and her friends are laughing, celebrating, telling stories of their youths as Belle and Beast struggle to stay awake, watching from afar as the kids have fun. Ben keep his hands on Mal's shoulders and leans down to kiss her cheek every so often. Hades rejoins after he's memorized every star in the new pattern, and then comes inside to see them all talking, bonding, and shouting in excitement.

Maybe he'll show her the constellation after the wedding. It can be his immortalized tribute to her choice.

Mal turns with a smile so bright it outshines Ben's and shoves her glass into her best friend's hands before she runs to him, arms outstretched, and buries her face in his chest. Hades holds her tightly and takes a deep breath of her scent. He doesn't know this girl as well as he should. He wasn't there when he should have. But he knows her well enough to know she is strong, and her choice is good. Because she is good.

The party continues, this time with him.

- This story holds a lot of my views on what marriage should be - two people who prepare to be ready for one another and who stick through the bad times because they know they'll become better people. Never a decision to be taken lightly, and never something you should do with 'I'll get a divorce if it doesn't work out'. You can try and fight me on this, but I know I have a strong family life because of the examples set by my parents before me and their parents before them. Marriage is a two-way street to self-betterment. It is here to make us as gods. -

#fanfic #descendants #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #mal #ben x mal #queen mal #ben #king ben #mal descendants #ben descendants #hades #disney hades #hades and mal #hades and ben #stargazing #disney #disney descendants #constellation #marrige #getting married

[ranekvilmas]

Uraveled (Chapter 1, Part 4)

One moment, two of staring at him with wide eyes, uncertainty at war within her. The stalemate shatters when he speaks--interpreted as a desperate plea for help, the druid does all she can think of: she smashes a paw into his head just hard enough to hopefully knock him out. Whether she succeeds or not, the resumed sound of footsteps drives her to once again grab hold of him and drag him into the city and towards his bakery.

The blow dazes him hard, fighting consciousness for a few moments before darkness claimed him. The fight is abruptly cut off as the mind hazes over, his body relaxing and able to be carried without any trouble or flailing.

Inside, his battle with the wolf did not stop. The pain and fighting of his own body eased the stains on him, having able to fight the serum that was still in his veins without the excruciating pain and mind-numbing ache. 

However, deep in the recesses of his mind, it was still chaos. The wolf's howl was a whirlwind of noise and a sensation of being pinned down, making it hard to fight back. But this was his mind. His body. He prevailed a decade and a half ago, and he could do it again. He drew in close his humanity, his self-discipline, the training and mantras he drilled into his mind when he broke free. Then came the parts of his mind he harbored, the things he cared about most in the world, and what gave him the best resolve.

Upon reaching the bakery, Blythe releases her shapeshifted form to try the door. Should it not give, she breaks the lock via sheer pressure in her ursine form. Ranek can bill her for the repairs later. The door was still locked, and under the force of a bear, it gave way.The runes and protective wards pulsed, but nothing came to effect. Once inside, she drags him up the stairs and to the bed, where she ignores her bleeding flesh and eye and focuses instead of locating rope with which to tie him down. And tie him down she does, as no chances can be taken with feral worgen.

(Art by twitter user Kagesatsuki)

Only once she's certain her work is satisfactory does the druid locate a surgical needle and thread within her pack and begin carefully stitching herself up. Her hands shake and her depth perception is even further ruined than usual by her dead eye lying closed tight, lashes sealed together with blood. The gash skips across to the bridge of her nose, a smaller slice in her cheek from the same swipe.

It's likely there, sitting in a chair by the bed and with needle and thread in-hand, that Ranek finds her when finally he finds control and consciousness.

As the fight went on inside the depths of his mind, his body twitched a few times as Ranek began seizing control little by little. He raged with the wolf, their howls pushing each other back until the Gilnean dug as deep as he could, opening doors in his mind he kept locked from everyone. He had conditioned himself long ago to harbor certain parts of his life away from the inner wolf, for this very reason. 

He remembered the druids that taught him control and inner peace. He remembered the emotions he shared with past lovers. He brought the affections and emotions he shared with Blythe, Quin, Valis, and the friends he had made along the way to the forefront, remembering who he was. He chanted the catechisms he memorized for years to tame the wild animal in his soul, slowly making the red rage bleed away.

About an hour passed when Ranek took a gasping breath, struggling against his bonds and looked around in a panic. "Blythe? Quin?" His vision was blurry from the concussion and mental strain. He looked around, blinking furiously with yellow eyes.

At his side, still seated, still working to stitch her many words, Blythe jolts slightly when Ranek wakes so abruptly. She offers him silence and a wary stare, every muscle tense, every instinct keeping her on high alert. He could spring at any moment, after all.

"I'm 'ere," she manages to reassure, her words hardly more than a whisper and so shaky they all but rattle between her teeth. "Are ye... you again?" Needle meets flesh once more, her ministrations having briefly paused to make way for the wash of fear.

What deft fingers remain twist and weave the stitching thread in her shoulder, tying it in a way that will help prevent it from tearing when she moves in a shapeshifted form. She keeps her blind eye closed, having done little for it aside cleaning the blood away--after all, eyes can't be stitched, and the slice through it is, or at least feels, disturbingly deep. Best not scare him with that immediately.

And so it's from the corner of her right eye that she watches him rather than her handiwork with the stitches.

It took him a few moments to slowly calm down against the restraints.  "What... how did we get here?" He asked openly, looking around his bedroom. "What exactly happened to me? One second I was fine, then... he shot me. I lost all control over myself, like I was back in Gilneas during the outbreak. I could..." Blythe takes a slow breath to explain, but pauses when he continues. She stares at him with her good eye slightly wide, her lips barely parted, then pushes herself to her feet--barely weak in the knees, somewhat stiff in the spine. She keeps her back facing away from him so he can't see the marks of his claws there--and holds out the hand not clutched around her half-finished stitching. "Rane'. Rane', stop. Slow down, lad," the druid attempts to soothe, her tone stern in an attempt to yank him back to the surface.

He snapped his head to her. "Gods... oh gods what did I do to you?" He tried to reach out to her, but the thick rope would not let him budge. His still yellow eyes bulged as he looked over at his love. "Gods... I hurt you again. I keep..." He pulled against the ropes. "What the fel happened to me!? Years... years of training and all the work I have done in the last year.. all undone." He sagged suddenly, despair and sorrow written all over his face as he grinded his teeth. 

"I' was a potion. I' wasn' yer faul'. I managed t' ge' th' dar' ou' o' ye an' sen' i' t' th' local alchemis' while ye were ou'. They go' back t' me a few minutes ago," she explains, settling back down in her chair with a grimace. "It's a potion tha' reignited th' curse temporarily in sane worgen... an' allows 'im an' only 'im t'... control them. I thin' 'e's been dosin' th' worgen in th' woods with i'."

Drawing a deep breath, Blythe runs a hand through her hair. "Ligh'... th' disappearances, th' mass gatherin's o' worgen in th' woods, th' insane 'owlin'... 'e mus' be tryin' t' perfec' i' by makin' worgen as... as experimen's."

"All I do is hurt you. And anyone I care about...." His eyes welled up, seeing her hurt once more tore at his heart. "Blythe.. I am so sorry.. You need to run away from me, one day I am going to get you killed." He struggled once more, trying to tear at himself. 

But back to the present. Blythe's one-eyed gaze snaps back to her love when she forcibly recenters herself on the needs at hand. "Ye cu' me up a bi', bu' 'tis nothin' bad, love. Don' bea' yerself up, aye? Once yer no' a threa' t' yerself--don' thin' I don' know why yer strugglin'--I'll untie ye. Fer now, ye ge' t' keep me company while I finish these stitches."

There was still a bit of haze in his mind, his rapid blinking and struggling against the bonds were signs of his unease of being so contained. Her words poured into him, helping to calm and get him to close his eyes to focus. The wolf was back to it's normal symbiotic relationship with Ranek, but the damage was done. The wounds suffered when the brand was destroyed were ripped open in places and it made focusing hard, not to mention the agitated wolf was not making concentration easy.

As she explained, her voice and his need of information kept his focus on her, anything to draw away from the darkness. 

As he looked her over, he noticed the closed eye, but before he could question, his hands curled into fists and a low growl came from his throat.  "He.... is experimenting? All those people..." He growled again. "Kill.. them.. All."

"Tha's... m' theory, a' leas'," the druid sighs as she stands. Hobbling feet carry her to the nearby mirror, exposing her torn back to Ranek, so she can inspect her eye. A click of her tongue, and she steps back to her chair, blind eye once again tightly shut. "I intend t'. M' wonder is... if'n 'e is experimentin', tryin' t' perfec' tha' potion, is 'e goin' t' sell i' t' th' 'orde? Make an army o' 'is own? I jus' don' know."

As the words left his lips, the wolf howled inside of him once more. He wanted to rend and tear, kill and eat. But this time Ranek steeled himself from the bubbling rage, taking a breath and mentally chanting the catechisms and mantras, holding the wolf down. 

Her voice once more brought him back to peace, his hand stretching to touch her fingers, as much as the rope allowed. "Just like your stomach.. I will never forgive myself for hurting you again. Please forgive me, love." He pleaded at her, the emotions and feeling flooding him as his eyes returned to normal. "Do not release me. I have control, but the concussion and tearing in my head.. I do not know how solid the hold is."

She opens her good eye, which she wasn't aware of closing, to stare at their woven fingers. With a sigh, she squeezes his hand. "There's nothin' t' fergive," she soothes, her voice soft. "Wha' can I do t' 'elp resolidify yer control?"

“I do not know, Blythe.” He said softly, sitting back on the bed and sighing heavily. But a small chuckle left his throat, looking up at the druid. He gave a weak smile at her. "I thought the first time you tied me up would be a bit more.... Sexy."

(Artist is unknown)

Her serious concern vanishes with snorted laughter at his jest, a bright, amused smile splitting her lips. She covers he face with her free hand as she laughs, only to wrench away and hiss when she barely puts pressure on her blind eye though the lid.

Her back made him wince, more guilt and anger rising in him. He strained on his restraints, growling softly at the thought of hurting her.But her laugh brought him back once more, giving her a small wink. But her hissing made him squeeze her hand. "Still beautiful, Blythe." Ranek listened to her, sighing softly. "Either way, it needs to be stopped. I want to help you, I want a piece of that bastard." His eyes blazed in her direction. "I want to pay back.." 

Another sigh, and a heavy breath. "But I am a liability to you, and this fight. More setbacks because I keep hurting you, putting you in danger." He squeezed her hand. "And we both know it is the truth. However.. I will not let it willingly happen again. I will seek a way to protect myself, Blythe." He squeezed her hand again, rubbing the nubs of her missing fingers. 

"As for the control, I just need time. My rune is drained again, and the mental wards are cracked, which will just need to be replaced. Plus.. with what I did to you, we both need to recuperate." He looked at her, eyes focusing on her molten gaze.

"Ye 'ad no control over wha' 'appened ou' there. Tha' potion could override even me, an' I don' 'ave th'... separa'e wolf tha' others 'ave. Maybe because I don' remember bein' 'uman." She returns every squeeze to her hand gently, watching him with that tired, careful half-gaze. "Jus' don' blame yerself fer wha' i' did t' ye. Yer no' a liabili'y, an' ye didn' 'ur' me."

Her words offered some comfort, his strain and anger beginning to fade as he took a small breath to relax. "I should have been able to resist it. I have been like this for over twelve years.. honed the connection to the wolf. I have a rune on my chest.. this damn thing has resisted a Void creature.. but one man undoes that with one dose. How?" Frustration bleeds from his voice, his free hand becoming a fist. "I will beat it. No matter what it takes."

With a sigh, the druid pushes herself to her feet once more and releases his hand. She steps to scoop up a loose flannel shirt she keeps at his home and pulls it on to hide her stitched back. "I need t' visi' th' nearby infirmary an' ask them t' check ou' m' eye. Avoid infection, see wha' they thin' I should do fer i', an' all. Will ye be alrigh' while I'm gone? Ye should ge' some sleep." While she speaks, she twists to face him, continuing to keep her damaged eye closed. Her remaining eye sets on his features, worry-filled and searching.

"Do not worry about me, Blythe. I will be here when you get back. I will contemplate what happened today, and work on communing with the wolf.. mend that fractured state between it and I." He gave her a confident smile and nodded. "See you soon, darlin'."

"Alrigh'. I'll be back within a couple hours, 'opefully. I've lef' ye yer enchan'ed stone so ye can contac' me withou' needin' yer 'ands. Jus' call on me if'n ye need anythin'," the druid states, then steps for the bedroom door.

"See you soon enough." He tries to wave, settling back into the bed and took a few calming breaths as Blythe left the house.

He decided to get to work immediately, closing his eyes and focusing inward. The wolf was still agitated and stalked aimlessly through his mind, the barriers he put up to keep it from roaming freely were shattered and had to be mended. 

To do so would take time, once more having to reach peace with the curse that manifested as the beast within. There had to be another unspoken agreement, Ranek had to exert that he was the alpha of the pair through force.

@theunfortunatedruid​ Mentions: @beautiful-beacon​, @irielle-firine​, @valishoneybee​