#might start tagging these useless posts as body journey or something

[love-bokumono-fics]

WIP Wednesday

With no game feature this week, let's look at some of the recent WIPs that haven't gotten a chance to be featured yet on the blog. These are the works that haven't been updated since I started the blog, so they haven't been included in the weekly Fresh Crops, or haven't been included in other feature posts yet.

Here's hoping you find a great new story to keep up with and await updates with bated breath!

(Have a WIP fic of your own that you'd like featured? Drop a link in the submission box! We'd love to see them!)

Edmond Route - by Mysterious_Prologue_Guy; WIP, 37/?, 54k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Light of Hope, Skytree Village

Relationship: Edmond/Light the farmer; Characters: Edmond, Farmer, Gareth, Tabitha, Harvest Goddess

Additional Tags: Harvest Moon a Light of Hope, Harvest Moon, Harvest moon Skytree Village

Summary: Contains spoilers. Meeting of Edmond and heart events.

Barriers - by krose13; WIP, 21/?, 148k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town, Harvest Moon DS Cute

Relationships: Claire the Farmer/Gray, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran/Cliff; Characters: Claire, Gray, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran, Cliff, Kai, Karen, Popuri, Mary the Librarian, Rick, Basically the whole Mineral Town cast, plus Forget-Me-Not Valley

Additional Tags: Drama & Romance, Complicated Relationships, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Not for the kiddos, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Unplanned Pregnancy, trying to fit a realistic pregnancy in hm time is a challenge but we doin it, POV First Person, Mutual Pining, Drug Use, Dreams and Nightmares, Drowning, I’ll probably have to add more tags as we go along but

Summary: Unlike everyone else in town, Gray wants nothing to do with the new farmer. He can't stand Claire, despite all her attempts to befriend him. But when one small mistake leads to an even bigger problem, he might be seeing a lot more of her than they both had planned.

Watered-Down Ideals - by LemWrites; WIP, 4/?, 4k

Rating: Not Rated; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: M/M, Multi

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationships: Farmer/Ludus; Characters: Original Male Character, Frank, Megan, Hector, Colin, Noel | Noelle

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Fluff, Self Confidence Issues, ADHD, I gave a farmer adhd and anxiety, this may have more projection then intended

Summary: Join Steve, the newly appointed farmer in the Trio of Towns world, on a journey full of; useless gay pinning, being a disaster, self hatred and more!

The Language of Flowers - by spoopybat; WIP, 68/?, 158k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: The Tale of Two Towns

Relationships: Cam | Kamil/Lillian the Farmer | Sato, Chelsea/Vaughn | Waltz; Characters: Lillian the Farmer | Sato, Cam | Kamil, Ash, Laney | Lia, Georgia | Raspberry, Chelsea, Vaughn | Waltz

Additional Tags: Tags Contain Spoilers, POV Alternating, Background Relationships, Starting Over, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Minor Character Death, Background Character Death, Minor Violence, Minor Injuries, Physical Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Socially Awkward Characters, Cliche, Mutual Pining, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Emotional Baggage, References to Depression, Dorks in Love, Dysfunctional Family, Melodrama, Family Drama, First Love, First Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Making Out, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Constipation, Arguing, Medical Conditions, Medical inaccuracies but I'm gonna do my best, Panic Attacks, Engagement, Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Honeymoon, Body Worship, Making Love, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Mental Anguish, Spa Treatments, Fights, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Depression, Language of Flowers, Emotional reunion [Some tags removed to keep post sfw]

Summary: Lillian, a young woman from the Sunshine Islands, left her home and moved to Bluebell. In hopes that moving to this rural farm town to escape her troubled past and find the happy life she had always wanted.

Finding You - by HarukazeRen; WIP, 4/?, 3k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Harvest Moon 64

Relationship: Karen/Pete | Jack; Characters: Karen, Pete | Jack

Additional Tags: Harvest Moon 64, Tsundere Karen, Flashbacks, Slow Romance, Handsome Pete, Karen's hearts event, Some of Gray/Popuri and Ann/Cliff

Summary: Whenever he meets her, some memories of his childhood flash in his mind. A little girl who was playing with him and made his heart skipped a beat. He tries to trace the shadow of her because he wants to make sure, why does he keep thinking of her.

Earth and Rebirth - by TheBeckster; WIP, 17/?, 66k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: Multi, Gen

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Characters: Holly, Frank, Marlena, Wayne, Ford, Lisette, Brad, Carrie, everyone

Additional Tags: Undecided Relationship(s), Additional Tags to Be Added, lots of headcanons, Minor Character Death, Eventual Friends to Lovers, I'm not going to tag every single character, but they will all have a part in the story, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, New friends and found family, world building, Angst with a Happy Ending, Holly is an extrovert, endgame ship tbd, Cover Art

Summary: Holly considered herself fortunate to be living about as close to the dream as any young twenty-something could. A great family, a loving husband, and well, she'd admit their apartment was awful, but they'd be moving onto bigger and better things soon enough. She truthfully couldn't wish for more. But when an accident rips it all away from her, Holly finds herself seeking a change of scenery. Her Uncle's farm out in the middle of nowhere is the perfect place for her to hide to mourn. A familiar story with a twist or two.

Fire and Dew - by Juliko; WIP, 9/26, 73k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Trio of Towns

Relationship: Yuzuki/Original Character; Characters: Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Characters, Yuzuki, Sumomo, Lisette, Colin, Wayne, Brad, Carrie, Shizu, Yaichi, Tatsumi, Omiyo, Umekichi, Lynn, Marlena, Daryl | Darius, Ittetsu, Moriya

Additional Tags: Harvest Moon, story of seasons, farming, Slice of Life, Drama, Family Drama, Family Issues, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Original Character(s), Major Original Character(s), Female Character of Color, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Friendship/Love, Past Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Humor, Eventual Happy Ending, Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Adoption, Sick Character, Lulukoko characters won't appear in this fic, Falling In Love, Dorks, Ableism, Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Break Up, Past Relationship, Cows, Chickens, Sheep, Rabbits, Flowers, Stimming, Family Fluff, Bisexual Female Character, Pansexual Character, Lesbian Character, Children, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma

Summary: For as long as she could remember, Harper Leigh Maxwell's dream has always been to become a farmer, but her father's job makes it hard to do so, since it involves lots of moving. After graduating from college, she finally decides to take a chance and get her own farm. She's determined to make the most of this opportunity and do what she's wanted. In the process, she makes new friends, learns many new things, and faces many hardships. One of the friends she makes is Yuzuki Fujiwara, a mellow, sweet natured man from the town of Tsuyukusa who doesn't have the best constitution. The two of them form a strong connection that may even end up blossoming into love. But Harper's past might make things complicated, and when it threatens to catch up with her, she may find herself facing the demons from her pre-adoption early childhood. This is the story of two different people, with different interests, passions, and paths in life, walking the same dirt road every day...

Finding the Way Forward - by AccidentallyTheWholeFanfic; WIP, 5/?, 35k

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Fandoms: Story of Seasons (2014)

Relationship: Johnny/Fritz; Characters: Johnny, Fritz, Elise, Oak Tree Town, OCs

Additional Tags: Romance, Drama, Slice of Life, Friendship, Family, Heavy Subject Matter, Humor, If Reina Pops Up Here I Will Refuse to Refer to Her as Licorice

Summary: Three youths move to Oak Tree Town on the verge of adulthood - each one an outsider in their own way, setting out on their own paths in life under their own circumstances. When those paths begin to cross over and influence each other, they all find that they might have some growing up to do if they want to find their way forward in life. Slash, M later. Heavy themes present.

Bring On The Wonder - by UrzaHemlock; WIP, 1/?, 2k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M

Fandoms: Animal Parade, Tree of Tranquility

Relationships: Molly | Hikari/Toby | Tao, Candace | Kotomi/Luke the Carpenter; Characters: Toby | Tao, Luke the Carpenter, Candace, Harvest Goddess, Finn, Molly/Hikari is Corina

Additional Tags: Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Original Character(s), Family Issues, Plot of the game but with fleshed out magic and trials, Mostly Animal Parade but with some elements from Tree of Tranquility mixed in, more tags to come, Possible change to Mature down the road

Summary: When Corina agreed to help Finn the harvest sprite save the Goddess Tree, it seemed the perfect chance to start over. After all, how hard could ringing some bells be? But magic isn't that simple, and Corina quickly discovers that there is more to being a savior. She'll have to throw all of herself into saving Castanet, body, mind, and even soul. She'll have to endure physical trials and emotional turmoil and even confront the things she wants to run from... ...but with the help of some new friends and a rather sleepy fisherman, she might just pull through.

Trial & Error - by KuramaBabe; WIP, 3/?, 3k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/F

Fandoms: Back To Nature, Save the Homeland, Magical Melody

Relationships: Gwen/Original Female Character, Gray & Original Female Character, Popuri & Original Female Character, Karen & Original Female Character, Cliff & Original Female Character, Ray & Original Female Character; Characters: Karen, Gray, Cliff, Popuri, Saibara, Harvest Goddess, Harvest Goddess Mariel, Gwen, Joe, Ray, Mary the Librarian, Original Female Character(s), Dog, Original Child Character(s), Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexuality, High School, Graduation, Party, Family Issues, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Families of Choice, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Name Changes, Dead name, Makeover, Hair, Injury, Slow To Update, Strangers to Lovers, Starting Over, Road Trips, a capella, Fishing, failure - Freeform, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, My First Work in This Fandom, Coming Out, Cynophobia, Minor Karen/Rick, Minor Gray/Mary | Marie, Abuse

Summary: Maribelle has known for a long time she's different. But when she finally comes to accept it, her home life turns into something ugly. With the help of a friend, she changes her identity and moves to Sugar Valley. However, she has no idea she's moving into a construction zone and most of the inhabitants have already left...

#wip wednesday #harvest moon #story of seasons #light of hope #skytree village #friends of mineral town #trio of towns #hm ds cute #tale of two towns #hm 64 #back to nature #save the homeland #magical melody #animal parade #tree of tranquility

[taesramenhair]

Set Me Free [MYG]

The abbey has been a constant in Yoongi’s life: his home, his school, his workplace. Now it’s burning, pillaged by invaders - and it’s up to him to keep their relic safe. The strange man he meets at the high altar doesn’t seem to understand that, but he does understand staying out of harm's way.

word count: 5.7k // genre + rating: SFW (12)

warnings/tags etc: violence, injury, minor character death (unnamed characters), mention of corporal punishment, some Not Nice People, as you might have guessed - angst with a happy ending, monk!Yoongi (sort of), vague middle ages AU, religious imagery, religious references, mainly ft. Jimin but the others have a cameo at the end too. [This is my first fic so I'm not used to tagging - please, please tell me if I've missed something important!]

Masterlist

Yoongi never thought he’d be grateful for a childhood spent chasing chickens, but here he was. With the wind snarling around his reddened ears and loose pebbles rolling under his feet, he was immensely thankful that he’d always been given the outdoor duties. At the time, he’d hated it, of course, but it had built his stamina - and if there’s one thing you need when fleeing up a mountain, chased by murderous bandits, it’s the ability to run.

Not that he was going that fast anymore. The terrain was difficult, path narrow and winding, and the cut on his arm was distractingly painful. It wasn’t bleeding so much now, thankfully, but it throbbed with every beat of his worn-down sandals against the dusty rock. His one advantage over his pursuers was that he knew this path well and they didn’t. He had gained a lead on them in the twisting corridors of the abbey – his abbey, now nothing more than hollowed, blackened stone burning violently in the valley below – and left them scrabbling foolishly in the dense foliage at the base of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long before they made their way through, though, and he had to reach the top first. He had to make it to the altar.

A misjudged footfall coming around the last corner slid Yoongi into the floor, landing heavily on his left shoulder as the strap of his sandal broke apart. Every ache in his body rose now that he wasn’t moving, screaming up towards the bright midday sky even as he forced himself to let out nothing louder than a pained groan. He couldn’t let them know anything was wrong. Let them think he was safe. Let them think he was long gone.

Testing his shoulder with a gentle roll – ah, painful – the young acolyte turned onto his knees and rose shakily. The broken sandal was all but useless, barely staying on his foot as he stepped forward. This high on the mountain, though, the ground was harsh and stony, the only foliage being the flowering apple tree next to the altar Yoongi couldn’t yet see but knew was just over the next rise. He’d have to hobble to keep the shoe on but it was preferable to tearing the sole of his foot on jagged stones. If only he hadn’t given his best shoes as an offering, he thought bitterly – and then instantly chastised himself. The gods had ben pleased with that offering, had taken it quickly and sent plentiful rains in response. It had been a worthwhile sacrifice, even if he was now struggling to reach sanctuary.

A noise below told him the bandits had broken through the tree cover already. They were gaining on him. He hobbled faster.

No one had expected an attack that day. Yoongi had been by the stream when it started, bathing his battered hands in the cool waters, breathing in the dews of the spring day and hoping they would sweeten his tears.

(It had been his turn to watch the blessed fire, but he had been sick all week and the abbot had caught him sleeping at his post. The welts of his punishment would linger for a few days: they always did.)

Hearing the tower bells had pulled Yoongi from his mournful reverie – it was not yet dawn, and those bells should not have been ringing. Something was terribly wrong.

Cold grey stone was already dripping red warmth by the time Yoongi reached the doors to the place he had called home since his seventh winter. Prayerful silence had given way to terrible screams, like the great oaken entrance had buckled beneath the force of the invaders’ battering. Centuries of monastic tradition was no match for the terror of a freshly forged blade baptising itself in the blood of the aged brothers, it would seem.

He could have run there and then, abandoned it all to its inevitable oblivion and fled towards the slowly rising sun. There were things he had grown to value there, though, lessons that had been drummed into him by chant and fast and blood. To run with no attempt at saving the abbey’s great treasure would be an insult to the gods too grave to contemplate. Sure, he would survive – but it would not be a life worth having, cursed to his final breath.

So he had waded through the wails of his brothers, the dying agony of those who had raised and formed him, taking the hidden passages to reach the inner sanctum before the newcomers did. They seemed to plunder aimlessly, unaware that there was only one prize worth having within the abbey walls, more valuable than the golden triptychs or the silver-wrought chalices. For the blessed fire – the one Yoongi had been punished so harshly for failing to attend – burned to light the presence of a great relic: a priceless stone that betokened the favour of the gods. That favour had passed now from the vaulted corridors of the abbey it had settled on for centuries, that much was clear. Even so, as Yoongi crawled past the death-closed eyes of the kind, wizened man he had once playfully addressed as halabeoji, he knew the stone must be preserved and taken to the high altar until the gods chose to bestow it anew. If he could just get it there, he could beg their protection in return – he could beg preservation from the terrible fate that had fallen out around him.

Now, finally dragging his trembling limbs over the last mound, Yoongi saw the goal he had been fighting towards since daybreak. Half-shrouded in bruised blossoms from the apple tree stretching lazily by its side, the high altar basked in afternoon sunshine, dark stone glistening where droplets from the nearby waterfall had lost their way. He had seen it many times, in all weathers – sent far up the mountain in deepest winter to offer penance for a drifting mind; honoured to represent the community in late summer and give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Always the end of his journey and always a place of refuge. Looking at it, he could almost forget about the horrors he had seen. It was almost relaxing.

Only almost, though. Not only was he aware of the toll his journey had taken – not to mention the danger still snapping at his blistered heels – but when Yoongi looked at the altar today, he saw something he had never seen there before.

A young man – small, lithe, delicate – was sitting on the altar, back against the sacred tree. He was a vision in the dappled light, so beautiful next to Yoongi’s swollen eyes, bloodied robes and dusty feet. Looks were deceiving, though, and apparently Yoongi was to add another sacrilege to the list of crimes committed against everything he held dear. The man, damn him, was eating the offerings left upon the altar for the gods. Had he had more energy, Yoongi could have burst into tears at the sight.

“What are you doing?” he cried, voice cracking and distraught. “Get off! Go away! Those are offerings, we need them! I – please. I need the gods’ favour. Go away!” The boy did little more than blink at Yoongi and tilt his head slowly to the left. A child-like hand raised a flask of blessed water – blessed water – to full, pink lips and Yoongi choked on air, disbelieving.

“There are no gods here, silly.” A soft, high voice came from the young man, sure and unconcerned. “Only me.”

Angry tears did slip from Yoongi’s eyes then. How dare this – this boy say such things? Yoongi had not endured the destruction of his home for some spoiled brat to anger the gods and leave him defenceless and a failure. Marching towards the altar, he bowed quickly and muttered an apology to the tree before taking a firm grasp of the boy’s black hair and yanking him down unceremoniously, heedless of the responding cry.

“I am the last acolyte of the abbey and I will not have you defile this altar and the offerings left to our gods.” His speech would have more impact if he weren’t gasping through tears and physically shaking, but Yoongi was doing his best. “We have been beaten and burned and murdered today and I am here to return the stone of favour to the gods for safekeeping and beg their protection from the evil that has pursued me all day and you – how dare you treat this place with so little respect?” Wide eyes and a soft pout looked up at him from the ground, the boy not having moved from where Yoongi had thrown him. He realised that the ground was still harsh here and felt a little bad – even if he was a sacrilegious blasphemer, this boy seemed a couple of years younger than Yoongi and the fall must have hurt him. Still, there were more pressing matters at hand. Yoongi did his best to rearrange the remaining gifts on the altar (so few, the boy must taken so much of it, the gods would be displeased) and placed the stone carefully in the centre before dropping stiffly to his knees. Wiping his tears and bowing his head to the ground, he muttered out a series of chants and then sat back on his heels, chin lifted to the skies and streaming eyes closed against the light.

“Great gods above, hear my call,” he declared, loudly as his ragged throat allowed him. “We know not why you have withdrawn your blessing from us. We thank you for having granted it at all, for letting us live such charmed lives for you for many years. We return now your stone. Please retain your grace in it and bestow it anew upon others. Do not abandon us all, oh great ones. Hear me when I call to you, worthless as I am. Do not forget us all.” His voice faltered and Yoongi tipped his head forward again, barely managing a whisper. “I ask your protection. Please. I know I have not served you perfectly, but I have tried so hard. I wanted to please you. I want to deserve your favour. You’ve always answered me so graciously – and I know better servants have died horribly today, but please. I don’t want to die. Protect me.” The thunderous footsteps of the bandits started to reach his ears and Yoongi gasped, pressing his face desperately to the ground once more. A soft noise behind him reminded him he was not alone and he spoke again. “Protect us both.”

For a few moments there was silence, and then Yoongi heard the stones to his left shifting quickly, as though someone were running towards him. He tensed, still bowing before the altar and praying that somehow the gods would protect him. A pair of hands grabbed his upper arms and pulled, and he couldn’t help but let out a sob. He knew he had never deserved anything from the gods, but he had hoped so dearly that they would spare him.

“It’s just me, acolyte, get up.” The words filtered through his distress like thick cream through muslin, slow and awkward. He couldn’t quite grasp them. “We have to go, now.”

“Can’t,” he stuttered out, managing to open his eyes and twist away from the young man’s grip, crawling back towards the altar. “I have to be here. The gods –“

“The gods won’t help you.” Though his words were harsh, the man looked concerned, reaching a hand out towards Yoongi again imploringly. “Let me help you, please. Come with me. They’re close now: we have to go.” Yoongi knew he was telling the truth – he could hear voices as well as footsteps now, could almost hear the singing of the blades he knew the bandits were carrying. But he couldn’t leave the altar – could he? It had always been his safety and it was the last remains of his abbey – his faith. He had run this far for the gods. If he ran further, for himself, did that make him a coward? Would he have betrayed them all? Would he prove himself as unworthy as the abbot had always told him he was? Teary-eyed and shaking, he set his mouth and looked the young man right in the eye.

“Save yourself if you can. I cannot leave.” It had the desired effect. The man nodded curtly, stood and began to leave, pausing by the altar as he did so.

“Fine,” he called back. “But I’m taking the rest of this food with me. No point letting it go to waste. This stone is pretty, too. I don’t know about it being blessed or anything, but I think I’ll take it.” Sure enough, he picked it up, tossed it in the air and pocketed it with a stunning smile that all but closed his eyes. Then, he started simply sauntering away, all sense of urgency gone.

He’s baiting me, Yoongi thought. He hadn’t managed to convince him to leave on his own, so he was taking the stone like some sort of carrot, hoping Yoongi, like a donkey, would follow. Yoongi half wanted to be stubborn, to sit there and die like a fool just to prove that he had a stronger will than this brattish stranger presumed. The louder part of him, however, was relieved at having been given permission to abandon the altar, a reason beyond self-preservation to stand up and follow him to safety. He couldn’t leave the stone of favour in the hands of someone with so little respect that he would lean against a sacred tree and eat the gods’ offerings with his feet on their altar. Impossible. It was his sacred duty to stagger up and stumble after him, calling chastisements as loudly as he dared and trying to match pace when the stranger sped up, leading him around the corner from the altar to a hidden path he had never thought to look for.

The altar was at the top of the mountain path – Yoongi had never considered that there might be other paths down beyond it. It was the destination, the end of the line. Going further just wasn’t something he’d ever considered, and that this man was leading him like it was second nature was the last straw for him. Lost in a haze, he followed wordlessly, almost blindly, the ache of his arms and his legs and his feet whispering somewhere but barely decipherable through the thick fog of his mind. At some point they entered a dark tunnel and the young man took his hand gently, perhaps aware of how feeble Yoongi’s grip on awareness was. Between the soft touch and the pressing darkness around him, Yoongi let himself go.

Waking up again was a far less pleasant experience than drifting off had been. It wasn’t a slow rise to the surface, lazy and comfortable like waking to a summer dawn – it was a sudden dive from absolute nothingness into decided somethingness. All at once Yoongi was aware again of the stiffness in his calves and the ache of his arm; the throb of his head from a week of sickness, a lack of sleep and the dehydration of having cried his frustrations out on the mountaintop. The fog lifted and he sat up quickly, huffing softly through his nose as the movement made his stomach lurch and his vision swim. He could remember being annoyed at a bright smile, and fluffy, black hair disappearing into a tunnel – and the stone! Right, yes. Dangerous bandits, bratty stranger, following the stone. That’s what had happened.

“There’s some water next to you – you should drink it,” he heard the stranger say from somewhere off to his right. Yoongi glanced around him, twisting on the bed roll laid out in his corner of what seemed to be a small, wooden room. Sure enough, there was a whole pitcher of water beside him. After a few seconds of blinking at the floor failed to magic a cup into existence, Yoongi picked it up and hesitantly tilted it against his lips. The water was lukewarm and hardly counted as refreshing, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since the abbot had woken him before, well, everything and his throat was grateful to be soothed.

“What did you do with the stone?” Even after a few mouthfuls of water, his voice was deep and gruffer than he had meant it to be. The stranger just giggled and Yoongi managed to make out his shape in the low light, sitting against the opposite wall.

“Don’t worry, acolyte. It’s safe here. I’ll give it to you in the morning, if you like.” Yoongi grumbled and the stranger laughed again. “You know, you were cute when you were half asleep. All whiny, like a kitten.”

“I’m not a kitten.” (He had a vague notion that his mother used to call him that. He hadn’t seen her for years, not since she had given him away in the hope of pleasing the gods and bringing a good harvest. Maybe he had dreamed it up. He certainly hadn't had a nickname since joining the abbey.)

“Who are you, then?” The question took Yoongi by surprise and he cleared his throat as he shifted back a little, resting against the wall behind him and drawing his knees painfully up. From the feel of the fabric under his fingertips, he was still in his robes from earlier and whilst he was relieved that the stranger had not undressed him, he desperately wanted to be clean. He wondered whether there was any chance of getting a bath, just soaking in hot water and letting it steam away everything that had happened. Probably not.

“Yoongi,” he said shortly. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Jimin. How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” Yoongi didn’t like where this was going.

“Hyung!”

“No.” He thought he could see a flicker of a pout and was glad of the cover of darkness. Living around older monks meant he hadn’t really been exposed to much cuteness – he hadn’t been anyone’s hyung ever– so he didn’t think he’d be able to hold out against it. At least if he couldn’t see this Jimin’s face, the only thing he had to resist was the whining that started up immediately.

“I saved your life, let me call you hyung!”

“You desecrated my altar!”

“I told you, Yoongi-hyung, there are no gods here! If the altar’s not really sacred, how can I have desecrated it?” That stung worse than the other injuries vying for Yoongi’s attention. He had devoted his life to serving the gods. It was all he had known. He had put up with long nights and early mornings for years, allowed the other monks to literally beat him into shape, all in the hope that it would appease some deity with the power to improve people’s lives - and now this clueless boy wanted to tear it all into pieces.

“There are gods, Jimin-ssi. We have left them offerings for centuries, and they have always taken them and given what we asked for in return.” He thought he heard a snort, and it was his turn to pout.

“Like what, hyung? When have the gods taken something and given something in return? How would that even work?” Yoongi didn’t have to think.

“Last autumn. The rains were late so the farmers were worried the fruits wouldn’t ripen properly and they would have to feed their livestock from reserves, which might mean they would run out before the frosts ended. I’d been working on a new pair of sturdy boots all year because mine had fallen to pieces, but we needed an offering, so I brought them up to the altar and left them there. Two days later, the rains started, and the boots were gone. We gave the boots; they gave the rains.” He sounded smug. He knew he sounded smug, but he also knew he was right. Traditions existed for a reason, and the abbey existed because it worked. It helped. The monks prayed and trekked up the mountain to offer sacrifices because the gods listened to them and protected their people. Or at least, they used to.

“Oh.” There was the sound of shuffling across the room, and then a hiss as a flame was struck. Yoongi blinked blearily as Jimin lit a candle, picked something up from the floor and shuffled over, nearly tripping on the long, woven blanket he had wrapped around his narrow shoulders. “Um, Yoongi-ssi – those boots, they, um. Well. They didn’t look like this, did they?” Kneeling next to Yoongi’s bed roll, Jimin lifted the candle and proffered a muddy pair of boots with his other hand. Slightly crooked teeth worried his lip as he waited for the acolyte to respond. Yoongi took the boots reluctantly, fingering over the caked mud and peering closely. He couldn’t see much, in truth – and he had only ever felt his boots when they were brand new, unworn. His fingertips didn’t recognise these ones, leather both soft with wear and rugged from the elements. Guiding Jimin’s hand closer to gain more light, he turned them over and picked at the dirt dried into the arch.

“You’re terrible at looking after boots,” he muttered as a large clump came away in his hand, revealing the sole. Jimin didn’t respond. The last bit of mud fell to the floor and Yoongi coughed on a harsh sob. There, tucked next to the heel, was the mark Yoongi put on all his things.

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispered as Yoongi’s eyes drifted blankly to the wall beside him. “I didn’t realise you had offered them up. I always – ever since I was tiny, there have always been things there and we always took them, so I thought they were meant for us. I thought you all knew we were taking them. I thought you were looking after us.”

“You’ve been taking the offerings for years?” Maybe if he asked the question quietly enough, the answer would be different. It wasn’t.

“All my life. Yoongi-ssi, I’m so sorry. My parents showed me and when they were gone - I guess I didn't think about it. I didn’t know it meant anything until you shouted at me earlier, and then I thought you were just being… I don’t know. Sanctimonious?” Yoongi huffed, still not looking at the younger man.

“Big word.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it wasn’t what you thought – but those offerings didn’t go to waste. We’d have died here without them.” A silence stretched tensely between them, Jimin left without words to explain himself and Yoongi winded by how abruptly his world was turning itself inside out. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he had lost everything that had ever been familiar to him. He also had to have his faith shaken and his understanding of how the world worked ripped out from under him. There was only really one thing to do.

“I’m going to sleep,” he mumbled, curling up to face the wall even though it meant lying on his wrenched shoulder. Behind him, he heard Jimin place the candle on the ground and move the boots – his boots? Yoongi’s boots? it didn’t matter anymore – away.

“Hyung,” came the soft voice again as a small hand reached over his hunched shoulder, “here. I think you should keep this. We can talk again in the morning.” Firm fingers prised Yoongi’s hand away from his side and pressed something cool and round into his palm. The stone, he thought. There is still the stone. He fell asleep with it pressed against his chest, safe.

They didn’t speak the next day. In fact, Yoongi gave Jimin the silent treatment for three weeks, only staying with him because the heavens opened during the night and refused to close again for long enough to allow Yoongi to even hope to venture off the mountainside. He didn’t have anywhere to go in any case – and whilst he was furious with Jimin and completely lost without his routine and the guidance of the other monks, he knew being somewhere warm and dry, with a reliable source of food and someone to offer to massage his aching shoulder was better than dying in a ditch somewhere from stubbornness.

(He never accepted the massage offers, of course, but it felt nice to know that someone cared enough to ask.)

When the rains finally cleared, Yoongi had Jimin show him the way back up to the altar. The blossom was all gone now, flushed away by the rain, but the leaves were strong and the waterfall babbled happily. Yoongi didn’t think the tree would fruit this year, since the flowers hadn’t had time to set before the storms, but it still stood. The altar still stood. That was something.

Sitting on the edge of the mountain, he could see the charred ruins of his home below – joined now by more ruins to the west. Though they hadn’t found him, the group who had attacked the abbey had travelled back down the mountain and continued their rampage, working through the nearby villages and taking what they could. Bright sunshine was no remedy for such heaviness, and Yoongi felt his face crumple watching the birds fly down towards the blackened remains of thriving communities. Maybe Jimin was right and there never were gods – maybe it was better that way. To think that they had been abandoned to such death and ruin hurt more than believing they had never been blessed by anything more than good chance in the first place.

“Hey, hyung – look!” Jimin called excitedly from the waterfall, oblivious to the destruction right below him. Jimin, it turned out, had never really come down off the mountain. His parents had retreated to a small cabin in a hidden glade after a particularly nasty feud with a distant cousin, and he had been raised in near solitude. He knew about the villages, of course, but he had never been to one. Their loss was a sad idea to him, but no more than that. Flowering daisies were all it took to distract him, and he sought to do the same for Yoongi, even if he was ignored.

“Hey, Grumpy-hyung! I saved your life, you know, you can at least pretend to be interested when I try to show you the finer beauties of this world!” A thought struck Yoongi, finally back in the place where he had thought for certain his life would end. It hit him hard enough to make him gasp, head tilting up to the sky so quickly that Jimin forgot his flowers and came rushing to see what the matter was.

“You’re wrong!” he declared as soon as Jimin settled beside him, before the younger boy had even spoken. “You’re wrong.”

“Something tells me you’re not talking about daisies.”

“There are gods.” Yoongi brought his chin down again and looked at Jimin straight, eyes still red from his tears but perfectly sure. “You said there weren’t gods. There are.”

“Um. Ok.”

“There are. I asked them for their protection and they protected me.” Jimin’s brow crinkled a little and his eyes followed Yoongi’s movement as he stood and paced to the altar, one hand reaching out gently to touch the bark of the apple tree.

“I mean, not to be pedantic, but I protected you, hyung.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had never admitted that before, no matter how much Jimin wheedled for acknowledgment. He figured either this was a minor miracle or the pressure had finally cracked him. “I’ve been coming up here for fifteen years, Jimin-ah. All times of day, all seasons, all weathers. I’ve never seen you. None of us have. And then the one day I need someone to be here, when I’m being chased and I’m completely alone for the first time in my life - you’re just sitting on the altar." For the first time, Jimin saw Yoongi smile – a bright, full-toothed, gummy thing that lit up his eyes and transformed his face. “Like an offering. We gave them offerings, they gave them to you – and then they gave you back to me.” When Yoongi chuckled and leant against the tree, Jimin couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“I don’t think that’s compelling theology, hyung, but if it makes you happy, you go ahead and think that.”

“Just admit it, Jimin-ah. You’re wrong. The gods exist and they’re here and they care and we’re going to be alright. Just you wait.”

It had taken two years for the invaders to take everything they could from the land, and three more for life to start again once they abandoned it to decay. Now, though, from his rock on top of the mountain Yoongi could see white smoke rising from chimneys once more, could follow the path of trundling carts along the roads between each growing settlement. He had taken Jimin down there a few times, to see how the people lived and to do what he could to help them. Although the abbey and the men who had raised him were gone, the skills he had learned remained and he had a lot to offer. If in time it meant he could earn a little money and make life a bit easier, that was a blessing too.

Life with Jimin had taken some time to adjust to. He had considered leaving after his revelation, heading north in the hopes of finding a new monastery and enfolding himself once more in the familiarity of an ordered life. He'd got as far as packing a small bag of food and reclaiming his boots from Jimin. When he had put them on to leave, though, it had all felt wrong. Officially, the boots had worn to Jimin's feet already and Yoongi refused to make a long journey in uncomfortable shoes. Jimin had accepted that excuse without fuss, thrilled to keep his companion, but they both knew that wasn't the real reason. After all, Jimin had watched Yoongi stumble into a mountain clearing with a sword wound on his arm, a dislocated shoulder and a broken sandal all for the sake of a small stone. Uncomfortable boots were hardly going to stop him leaving if he really wanted to.

For whatever reason, he had elected to stay, to learn how to live with just one person for company and without orders and punishments and bells to mark his day. Chasing chickens was also useful for catching rabbits, it turned out, and he taught Jimin the skills he needed to find food now that there weren't regular offerings to pilfer. Jimin taught him to dance, and sang real songs to him. He taught him to laugh again, and if anyone were to suggest they be parted now, he would probably growl at them and pull his dongsaeng behind him for protection.

The altar would always be special to him. When the weather was good, Jimin would often find him up there long past dark, listening to the waterfall or leaning against the tree. One autumn, he even convinced him to sit up on the altar itself.

("Hyung," he had whined, "don't leave me up here alone. If the gods didn't like it, they would have struck me down years ago. Live a little."

"Brat," Yoongi had muttered in reply, hiding his smile even as he climbed up onto the stone. Since he was yet to be blasted to smithereens, he figured he was alright to keep doing it.)

It was there that he was sat the day the monks returned to the mountain. The afternoon sunshine was lazy, winding its way through the apple tree's branches and kissing its growing fruit softly. Yoongi had brought a cushion and was leaned back against the tree trunk, legs stretched out across the altar and mind drifting when an outraged shout made him open one eye and smirk.

"Yah!" a tall stranger exclaimed, pulling his robes up with one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other as he strode purposefully towards Yoongi. "Get off of there! Get down! That's a sacred altar!" Behind him was a group of four men, two looking nervous and carrying large baskets of food and one cradling a ceramic pot like it was glass while the last glared at him. Yoongi thought the glare might have something to do with the fact that the pot was missing one handle - which he located in the glarer's hand. Good to know every monastery had its own god of destruction.

"I take it you are the monks in charge of rebuilding the abbey?" Yoongi drawled, crossing his feet, completely unbothered by the new arrivals. Their leader halted in his striding, pulling his head back slightly in confusion.

"Uh - yes. That's us." One of the food bearers turned to the other with wide eyes, but received no more than a shrug in response. They looked very young - Yoongi hoped they were close. He thought he saw the one holding a pot begin to say 'hyung' and stop sheepishly when his hyung's heart-shaped mouth frowned even harder. Cute.

"Excellent." Hopping off the altar, Yoongi pulled a string from around his neck and took the stranger's hand. Unfurling crooked fingers, he placed the object in his palm and patted his shoulder familiarly, smiling at the gawk he got in return. "You'll need this, then. I've had it these past five years and I've been more blessed than I ever thought I would be. Guard it well, brother." He turned to walk away as the leader looked behind him, proffering the stone to one of his followers and saying, "Namjoon-ah, is this -" The answering gasp suggested they knew exactly what the stone meant.

"Oh, by the way," he called back at the corner where the path down to his and Jimin's cottage started. "If you ever need anything, just come here and leave a note. My friend and I will be happy to help. You never walk alone." With a soft smile, he disappeared around down the mountain and left them to their offerings.

(And if Jimin bounced home that evening with fine wine in a pot with a broken handle - well, Yoongi wouldn't be surprised.)

#fic #my work #is it obvious i know nothing about graphic design teehee #yoongle boongle #ft. maknae hyung #ok serious tags now #angst #fluff #min yoongi #park jimin #min yoongi fic #bangtan fanfic #bts #bts suga #bts jimin

[starbuck]

Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case. 

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis. 

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop. 

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in). 

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going! 

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin. 

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT! 

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!

#the terror #i'm REALLY proud of these!! this was so fun to do! #i definitely intend to do this for each episode #no promises for the timing on that but i legitimately have nothing better to do so lol hopefully ep 2 will happen soon! #hope y'all enjoyyyyyyyy #feel free to add comments if you like or you don't have to! whatever is good - i just appreciate anybody slogging through this lol

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 10: Smoke and Mirrors

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor and Vera reunite just in time for a stand-off between hands, guns, and a little too much screaming. He’s really starting to think he’s not cut out for this ‘main character’ gig.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor recognizes the restaurant when a waiter exits the kitchen with a large silver cart laden with all the materials for their specialty flaming bananas foster. Peeks as best he can, standing on the tips of his toes, to see the bustling front of the gilded establishment before one of Smoke’s henchmen catches him looking and shoves him forward with a grunt of warning.

As if he wasn’t seriously dejected at the fact that he’s already having to miss out on the promised onion rings.

“What — is Smoke gonna make us clean dishes as punishment?” Cal sneers. The comment earns him a smack to the back of the head but even with a werewolf growling in his face the other suited guard doesn’t even blink.

Four men in mobster-movie suits ushering five unusual-looking characters around the back walls of the five star restaurant should raise more than a few alarms but you wouldn’t know it based on the staff’s reactions.

How they purposefully look away and give their entourage a wide berth; some even moving aside to take the long way around to where they need to go.

If they were actually being held captive and against their will it wouldn’t be any use to try and beg for help. Every waiter, cook, and busser knows to keep their attentions on their jobs. Whether they’re bribed or threatened into silence is the only question but ends in the same answer.

They’re on their own.

The journey ends in a large chrome door. One of the guards reaches out but jumps back as a broad-shouldered woman exits with a wooden crate of vegetables.

Not a word passes between them. Part of the deal no doubt.

He holds the industrial freezer door open and jerks his head. “In.”

“Yeah… not gonna happen.” Ryder gives them a look of ‘really, like we’re that stupid’ but then again they did all agree to join Cadence for his not-so-friendly meeting with Lady Smoke… so they very well may be.

Well; no. Cadence agreed — which automatically implied Katherine would join him. And the startling revelation of Lady Smoke’s real name meant that Taylor was either going to go at their side or find a way to sneak in on his own — this was just easier and less likely to cause injury.

And where Taylor goes Ryder is never far behind. Cal, too, apparently.

Not that the Shift trio didn’t try to tag along — but they already looked like an ambush waiting to happen. Probably best not to actually be one.

“Funny you think you still got a choice.” But before Ryder can call his cocky bluff one of the armed men whips out his gun and smashes it into the Nighthunter’s shoulder without warning or hesitation.

Taylor throws away any consideration that those around them might be getting paid off. Only fear would keep any decent person from helping the way Ryder cries out and buckles to his knees.

His assailant stows away his gun almost too slowly — like he’s ready to use it again; but just ready but eager. “Get in the fuckin’ freezer. Or else.”

If he felt useless before Taylor’s glad he’s suddenly too cold to dwell on how he feels now.

He blindly grabs for the nearest thing — a potato of all things — and holds it against Nik’s throbbing injury while helping him up.

“Are you okay?”

“Aw, Rook, I didn’t know you cared.” teases Ryder; probably to hide the wince in his smile.

“Not funny.”

“Admit it; a little funny.”

The three mortals are already shivering when two of the guards step inside with them. The click of the freezer door locking them inside definitely doesn’t help matters.

“Step back —” says the apparent leader, actually shoves Katherine into Cadence who holds her close and looks ready to add ‘asshole bodyguard’ to the restaurant specials for the night, “— I said back!”

So they press themselves against the shelving on the walls and watch — with some interest, but mostly spite and murderous intent — as he reaches behind hanging garlands of herbs and grabs for something blindly.

With a metallic thunk the back wall — no, the back hidden fucking door — loosens enough to be pushed forward and open. Revealing a set of rickety and definitely code-violating wooden steps that lead down into a no-less frigid abyss.

Before the guard has the chance to bark another order Cadence steps forward with hands raised. “Let me guess; in?”

The guard’s upper lip curls. But all it takes is a flash of the vampire’s true face for him to back off and mutter under his frosty breath.

Down, down they go one at a time with their new friends at their backs. The only consolation being, what, that it’s slightly less cold? Sure he can’t see his breath anymore but that doesn’t mean he’s not already a Taylor-sicle.

Cal arrives at the bottom first; opens the door to some kind of back office. Like a security room, only… underground.

A similarly-suited woman looks up from a row of fuzzy monitors as they start to crowd inside. It’s not a space meant for this many bodies especially when one of them is a broad-shouldered wolf and the other is a vampire too-damn tall. Judging by the abandoned snack wrappers and the digital solitaire game on her screen this isn’t a post that ends up with many guests.

She leaps to her feet; chair rocketing backwards on rickety wheels to collide with a small space heater loudly. But after catching sight of their captors before she can reach for her holstered weapon — she relaxes.

“The hell, man,” she yanks her chair away from Cal’s mere vicinity. Might be in the wrong business if that’s how she reacts to a wolf, but it’s not his place to comment. “You were only supposed to bring the fighter.”

He pushes between Ryder and Taylor — and Taylor swears he hears something like “you try arguing with these crazy bastards” under the man’s breath — to the only other door at the far end of the post.

“Fuck off.”

“Hope for your sake she’s in a mood for company.”

“I said fuck off.”

Good to know witty workplace banter applies to all occupations; even those of the hired henchman variety.

“Now listen here,” it takes him a second to realize he’s talking to them, now; and beyond monosyllabic orders — it’s a Mardi Gras miracle, “none of you are guests here. So don’t touch nothin’, don’t even look at nothin’. One toe outta line and it won’t end pretty for you.”

He looks pointedly at Cadence then. “No wards to protect you now, bloodsucker.”

But if he hoped to instill some kind of fear he’ll have to try a bit harder. Afraid seems to be the last thing he is — especially when he casually, almost coyly tucks his hair behind his ears and looks at the mortal man over the top of his glasses.

“None to protect you, either.”

And hopefully those threats won’t really be held up because the moment the door opens to a luxurious — and warm, thank the heavens warm — casino floor Taylor looks at every single thing he can. Blatant disregard; living life on the edge.

But who could blame him?

It’s not the same glitz and glamor of Persephone’s main atrium but that doesn’t make the underground treasure any less glittering. Lady Smoke’s Den is swathed in rich violet velvets and polished golden trim; every gemstone in inky black bright enough to catch the reflection of whatever passes nearby.

From the black iron of the gambling tables to the uniform designs on the back of each deck of cards in play there’s no denying the wealth it takes to wind up down here. Where the underbelly of Persephone was filled with rusted metal and bloodstained concrete this place undoubtedly hosts the cream of the crop.

Whether that specific crop is of the poisonous variety, though? Well Ryder is still using a semi-frozen potato as an ice pack so that pretty much says all that needs to be said.

He came here to meet Lady Smoke — without a doubt in his mind she must be some relative of Vera; even in New Orleans their family name is too unique; too ethereal.

But by some twisted hand of fate he doesn’t even have to go that far. Not when he recognizes a sleek pair of black satin gloves nursing a cocktail at the black diamond-encrusted bar across the room.

Two steps forward but someone yanks him still by the back of his collar. Turns to see Cal’s eyebrows raised in incredulity.

“Just ‘cause this place doesn’t look as dangerous as the fights doesn’t mean it ain’t, Taylor,” but his hard, stern tone quickly melts into just plain concern, “come on — you know better than to wander ‘round a place like this.”

“I — I’m not.” Taylor keeps looking back to the bar; keeps his eyes on Vera’s turned back. Refuses to have a repeat of last night at Persephone’s — refuses to let her slip through his fingers again like… like smoke.

“Then what the hell’re you doin’ Rook?” Ryder joins in but it’s hard to take him seriously with his spud pack. Even he looks at it like it offends him — makes quick work of disposing it on a passing silver tray of empty champagne flutes. “You asked me to follow ya on blind faith but the more I’m doin’ that the closer an’ closer I’m gettin’ to taking an injury I ain’t comin’ back from.

“So no more wandering off — not until you come clean about what you and Lady Smoke have in common.”

It’s been fifteen whole seconds and he’s terrified he’s lost her. Or maybe that she was never there to begin with. But even with Ryder snapping his fingers in Taylor’s face to draw back his attention he risks a look — exhales in audible relief when he catches her face in profile as she smiles and makes casual, inaudible conversation with the bartender.

“Her.”

In a reversal of fortune — and while Nik looks up to find just who he’s talking about — Taylor pulls at the side of the leather coat and digs around for the Nighthunter’s phone. “Hey — what — watch the coat!” But he steps just out of arms’ reach protests aside.

Luckily Cal’s on his side; stops Ryder from yanking back what’s his as Taylor quickly dials and holds the phone up to his ear; turns to watch intently as the metallic dialing starts chiming.

Across the floor decked in a rug more expensive than his theater company’s entire yearly budget the tiny digital first keys of the AME theme begin playing. Loud enough to draw an unimpressed frown from the bartender and a look of horrible realization from Vera.

The three men watch as she fumbles around; digs through the inside pockets of her black leather blazer. She procures Taylor’s phone from the left side and looks at the screen of dancing lights like she’s never seen such a miraculous and terrible device before.

Taylor ends the call by flipping the phone closed with a little too much force. At the bartop, Vera’s relief is short lived as the music ends and the screen goes dark. But the shudder that rolls down her spine is large and all-consuming. Makes her look around practically petrified when her gaze finds home on Taylor and his definitely not impressed frown.

“So that’s the girl who has your phone, huh.” Ryder doesn’t have to say it; they both know. She was there. She was there that night, and she ran away, and whether or not the Vera he saw in Persephone’s betting crowd was real she’s very much real here and now.

“What’re the odds?” Cal gives a surprised little laugh. But it’s not his fault; he doesn’t know the whole story.

Taylor, though — he’s starting to think nothing in this town is ever by chance anymore.

“Really, really likely.”

And it’s good to feel like he has support as he marches straight the-fuck up with a werewolf and a Nighthunter at his back.

Where were Cade and Katherine? Okay — okay — one problem at a time.

Only now what’s he supposed to do? Because he kind of wants to slap her — but that isn’t happening. One of those things that’s supposed to stay in the back of the mind and no further.

He could shout; make a scene. But that would make all their pushing and shoving and freezer-standing for nothing. And eventually they will find Cadence and help him out. So… no to that, too.

And it’s all so complicated and hard and makes his stomach twist and turn so finally Taylor just thinks fuck it and says the first thing that comes to mind. Turns out to be something a little more heavy than he’d anticipated but no less important.

“You knew about all this,” he jabs his finger into her shoulder, “about… about everything —”

“Tay, I didn’t —”

“And even if you didn’t know exactly what was happening you had some frickin’ idea.” Now that Vera doesn’t argue against — though she’s only barely biting her tongue and he can see it.

“You did; you had more pieces of the puzzle than us. And knowing that you… you let Krissy and I jump over that wall and to our own damn deaths.”

There’s a startled noise from Cal but that’s all. Taylor can’t quite care in the presence of all the frustration building up; bubbling over.

There’s been a nagging voice in his subconscious threatening him not to cry but Vera’s choked out words make that impossible.

“Is — Is Cookie dead, then?”

Taylor finds himself torn between wiping the tears before they can fall down her cheeks and telling her every. gruesome. detail just to make her cry harder.

“No —” — Vera claps her silken palms over her mouth to stifle a soft sob — “— no she’s not dead. Not yet.”

But she is in a coma; or probably worse. She’s in a strange hospital room in a strange city and she’s suffering untold horrors from that awful grotesque creature’s wicked touch and her two best friends in the entire world are in the same city and still haven’t gone to see her.

They are officially the worst people in this world and the other, preternatural world that borders theirs on the head of a pin.

“I’ll take my phone back now.”

She offers it like an olive branch; maybe he gets a little satisfaction from yanking it from her and shoving it in his jeans.

Then, because he’s mad but he’s not cruel; “I’m glad you’re safe Vera, really.” He opens his arms slightly but waits for her permission for an embrace — remembers what Kristin had said about Vera liking her personal space.

Now though he’s not so certain it’s that simple. He knows a lot more than he did when they first met.

“A-hem.”

They pull apart. Ryder stands with his arms crossed and an expectant tap to his boot. “Are we mad at her or not?”

“We’re…” Taylor and Vera exchange looks and there’s no doubt in his mind that her remorse is genuine. “We’re getting over it.” We, he thinks with a laugh. But doesn’t dare mention it lest Ryder close up more than he already is in this place.

Like he is right now.

“Good. Then maybe you can give us a proper introduction.” He’s zeroed in on her gloves; Cal too, he notices. Whatever has them on edge its more than a simple case of being protective of him. As if they didn’t have enough problems — and enemies — already.

Taylor clears his throat awkwardly; gestures between the meeting of two worlds who seem not to want to meet. “Uhm, okay. Vera, this is Ryder, my, uh, my bodyguard — don’t ask,” thank god she doesn’t, “and this is Cal; he’s a friend. Cal, Ryder; this is —”

“Vera, yeah, we got that,” interrupts the hunter lowly, “though how you came to be so buddy-buddy with Lady Smoke’s kid is my problem at the moment.”

And while Taylor’s brain is still turning rusted gears and starting to smoke with the sheer what the fuckery of Ryder’s accusation — Cal pipes up; “Smoke’s runaway kid, if I’m gettin’ my stories straight.”

Is he getting his stories straight, the look Taylor gives Vera — eyes so wide the whites go all the way around and jaw on a broken repeated hinge of not-quite-open and not-quite-closed — asks.

But that’s nothing compared to the look of utter shame that darkens Vera’s expression; to the way she looks around for listening ears and prying eyes.

“Keep your voices down.”

Ryder sees her buttons and, in classic Ryder fashion, pushes. “Yeah you ain’t gettin’ outta talkin’ that easy.”

She looks around with worry etched into her forehead. Finally lands her eyes on an empty poker table about as far out of the way as possible in the intimate space; half-obscured by a black-tile fountain where water the color of lavender fields bubbles and streams in arcs around an indiscriminate figure. “Fine, fine. Just — not here.”

And the Vera he sees now is definitely not the same young woman he’d met previously. She takes charge easier — less of a babysitting role and more of a… a woman who knows what she wants and asks for it unabashedly. At her call the bartender summons an attendant with bright, catlike yellow eyes that narrow into slits when she’s told to set them up a game at Vera’s preferred table.

Just like at Persephone they stick out like sore thumbs — but unlike at Persephone it doesn’t seem to matter. The attendants are ready to turn their noses up and away but the sight of Vera — the sight of her gloves like some status symbol — has them smiling, crooning; offering hors d'oeuvres more expensive than Taylor’s rent and drinks of all kinds. Even ones Taylor can partake in much to his surprise.

So they may look like they’re engrossed in a game of poker but one would be surprised to discover naught but a clever ruse.

Or at least a ruse on his end. Taylor’s got no living clue what he’s doing. But the cards are nice.

"Was it really you I saw at Persephone last night, Tay?” asks Vera. His nod earns a low whistle. “I figured I was just seeing… well, that you were a spectre of some kind; a manifestation of my guilt in leavin’ you and Cookie high and dry. And you really knew nothing about the supernatural world before y’all were attacked?”

“Since Twilight doesn’t count, yeah — er, no. I didn’t know a thing.”

“When you go in, you go all in, huh?”

If she means it as a joke it doesn’t really come off that way. Just makes him look down at his fancy deck and shrug. “Not exactly by choice.”

“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“For what, though,” pipes up Ryder after downing a long gulp of his beer, “are you sorry for bringin’ it up like a joke or for leavin’ him utterly defenseless?”

“Christ, Nik.”

“Am I wrong, Miss Reimonenq?”

Something tells him the glare exchanged across the cards isn’t the first, nor would it be the last between them.

But Vera takes him by surprise when she shakes her head dejectedly. “No, no you’re not.”

Like a nervous habit Vera tugs at the edges of her gloves; hikes them up higher over her elbows. Cal physically shifts his chair over as she does — like she’s hiding knives and guns in the skin-tight fabric.

“Okay,” Taylor tosses his cards — it was probably a shitty hand anyway — and looks between the locals one by one by one, “usually this is the part where something weird or coincidental happens and I don’t end up having to be the one to ask the stupid questions. But apparently not this time.

“So either someone starts telling me what the heck is up or I start doing dumb shit until my answers come to me freely. And Nik — you know I can do some dumb shit.”

Taylor only adds emphasis because of the hesitation clear in Nik’s frown. The way he looks at Vera as if to get her to do it instead of his usual bravado-riding explanation train.

But neither of them say anything. So Cal leans back and nurses his whiskey with his words.

“Lady Smoke ain’t your average mafia boss, Taylor.”

“Yeah, yeah I got that part. Your brother was in a cell, there were death fights. The guns aimed at us at the Shift. I was there.”

The wolf gives him a little smirk. “Thanks for the reminder. But it ain’t just guns and suits and shady deals with Smoke.”

“Underground casino notwithstanding?”

“Let him finish, Tay.” mumbles Vera; the look she gives Cal is a grateful one. Taylor holds his hands up — mimes zipping his lips.

“The Reimonenqs are an old Quarter family. Y’all’ve even got Laveau on your tree, right?” He nods to Vera. “Certainly been ‘round as long as the Pack, and the only ones older than that are the Lamrian folk.”

“— Local fae colony,” interrupts Nik lowly, “we’ll talk about it later. Just know it was here before the city was even settled.”

“So you’ve got roots here, is that a big thing?” Taylor asks — would rather hear it from her than yet another secondhand account of something else. He’s getting far too many of those.

When Vera finally answers her hands are folded in her lap. The picture of politeness if not for the shining fear in her eyes.

“What you need to understand, Tay, is that the Reimonenq name used’ta belong to all who practiced under the coven. Eventually the coven became jus’ family so it didn’t really matter, but you won’t find anyone born and bred here who doesn’t know the name — and fear it.

“And she’s used that her whole life — my whole life — to build this awful, cruel mockery of an empire.”

“‘She’ being Lady Smoke?”

“Yeah.”

“Lady Smoke being your mother.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom; Lady Smoke. The big bad everyone talks about like she’s a boogieman story — the woman who sent what basically amounted to hitmen to kidnap our friend for standing up to her and keeping Cal’s brother from getting mauled.”

He’s not saying it to be cruel, though Vera winces at every injustice like she personally signed off on it. Taylor’s just… a little out of his element. More so than usual.

“How many times does the girl gotta tell you, Rook? Yes.” Ryder’s knee knocks against his under the table. It’s enough to draw him from his factual-overload stupor; only just.

“So she’s — what — a witch? Wait — does that make you a witch?”

Witches, werewolves, and vampires; oh my.

Before Vera can open her mouth to answer their game is brought to a halt by the arrival of a familiar suit-clad asshole. And he’s got friends. This time Taylor pays close attention and watches the pain Vera stomachs in order to put on a brave, almost commanding atmosphere.

“We’re a little busy here. And we’d like some privacy.”

The henchman’s upper lip curls at the sight of Ryder — a grimace he only barely tosses aside as he answers Vera; “You can finish up your game of Go-Fish later. Lady Smoke requests your presence, Miss Reimonenq. And the presence of your… guests.”

“She can’t just summon me. I’m not one of her lackeys.”

“That may be — but you are under Lady Smoke’s protection. Or did you forget what you agreed to when you broke onto the floor last night?”

Taylor’s teeth grit painfully. “Back off, you soggy cockwaffle.”

“Tay —” her touch on his arm is gentle; appreciative, if concerned, “— hon’… he’s not wrong, okay? No matter how much I wish he were.”

“So much for bein’ the runaway…” Cal mutters under his breath.

“Lady Smoke doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

And he probably can’t pull his bully-type shit with Vera, not without some serious consequences whether there’s family tension or not, so there’s no missing the sick sense of satisfaction he gets in yanking Taylor’s chair practically out from under him.

Lucky him that Taylor isn’t unfamiliar with childish bullying tactics. He just expected people to grow out of them once they left high school.

Unlike before their goon leads the way rather than corralling them at the back. Gives them the chance to talk in hushed and hurried whispers because they’re being led fast.

“Magic — real magic — is something we’re born with; a gift we can’t give back no matter how badly we want to.” Vera continues hastily; “Yes, I’m a witch. And I ain’t proud of it, not like my mother is. I’ve spent my whole life tryin’ to get away from her and our curse.”

“And that meant running away to New York.”

“I could have run farther but… I refused to let her dictate where I was going to be. How I was going to live my life.”

That’s something he can definitely understand — but Vera’s actions are singing a different tune than her words. “If you hate her so much then why are you here? Why’d you go to her?”

“Because —”

“Because whatever was huntin’ you guys that night scared ya enough to look to the most powerful woman in the city for help.”

Nik doesn’t interrupt with a question — sounds so sure of himself. But Taylor’s ready to hear Vera out, really he is, until she suddenly can’t look him in the eyes.

It had been a whole other side of her; but Taylor had chocked it up to fear. Fear could make people do crazy things — like hide in walled-off cemeteries.

Finally Vera chokes out wetly; “Yes.”

The suit stops them in front of a closed door.

Nik reaches out and grabs Vera — holds fast despite how she jerks away. Leans in to whisper something so quiet Taylor has to step in himself in order to hear it.

“You know what it was, don’t you?”

“I-I —” stammers Vera.

“What was it?”

“I don’t…”

“This ain’t just about you anymore. Now quick, before they —”

“In.”

It’s too late. Judging by Cal’s look of apology he tried his best to give them as much time as they could but the door’s open and they’re out of time.

“We’re not done.” Ryder growls into Vera’s ear; lets her go before the suit decides he doesn’t want to ask a second time. The touch he lands on Taylor’s middle back is far kinder, coaxes him forward and through the awaiting doorway.

He doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow. Still throws a look back to Vera as she wipes away the smallest tear and puts up all the walls she needs to follow them inside.

“You didn’t need to be so harsh.” Taylor hisses at him.

“Sometimes there ain’t much of a choice.”

There was this time, Taylor’s about to say, when the literal fog obscuring the room beyond clears as though it’s been waiting for their arrival to part. Lady Smoke’s a witch, he remembers.

So maybe it was.

The ambiance of the back room is the same as the front — the only difference being the smoke that clings to their ankles and obscures the rug at their feet.

Off to one side a large couch curves in a wide semi-circle. Relief washes over him at the sight of Cadence and Katherine sitting close together with drinks in their hands; the honey-amber of Katherine’s bourbon catches the light in a way the contents of Cadence’s tumbler doesn’t. He’s content not to think too hard about what’s inside.

But for all their supposed relaxation the pair are stiff — tense. Their ease and touching outer thighs more about keeping close for safety rather than enjoyment. Katherine’s smile isn’t her usual teasing; instead rather strained. A grimace wearing an ill-fitting mask.

At the other end of the room rests a large desk — the kind Taylor might imagine a CEO would buy never to use and only to show off. But the papers and folders spread in a kind of organized chaos across the finished wood tell a different story; one of a business that never stops working.

The woman in the high-backed leather chair behind it is Lady Smoke without a doubt. Not just because he can see the resemblance to Vera — a family chin, the creases in her forehead decades ahead of her daughter’s; a living vision of what’s to come — either.

She emanates power in the way Kristof did. Control, dominance by birthright without mistake. The aura of someone who was meant for powerful things from the moment they entered the world; where the only thing left up to choice was how they planned on using it.

The gloves are pretty much a dead giveaway, too. Black lacework on golden fabric. She matches the den outside the way the sun matches the solar system; she sits at its heart and lets the rest revolve around her because it has no choice.

An unnervingly familiar wheeze of a voice catches him off-guard; probably for the best with the way he was staring.

“Well well well, justice for Meerl!”

Meerl cuts a scrawny figure between them and Lady Smoke. Tap-tapping his long claw-like nails together with the same smarmy grin as last night — only this time with a harsh red line of purpling pressure around his skinny throat.

Beside Taylor, Ryder’s laugh is nothing short of utterly shameless. “Nice choker you got there, Meerl. It’s a great look on you, really.”

His laughter incites a bloated face of rage in the con-goblin. “You mock Meerl?!”

“Was I not bein’ obvious about it?”

“Pissy—pissface—pissant Nighthunter! Meerl will—!”

“He will do nothing until he is told.”

There’s a touch of gravel to Lady Smoke’s voice. She doesn’t shout because she doesn’t have to — because the moment her lips part the only thing that matters is what she has to say.

Especially to Meerl given the way he backs off, cowers like his nightmares are coming to life.

It must be a reputation thing, Taylor concludes. Because she’s definitely the more-badass-and-less-fictional version of Don Corleone — no doubt. But for nothing but a sentence to get that kind of reaction? It’s almost satirical.

“Meerl apologizes, Lady Smoke,” the urchin cowers with every word, “the Lady knows Meerl does nothing Meerl is not told to do.”

But he might as well be talking to thin air the way she addresses him. Not at all. Because he’s no longer important to her — for the moment at least. Not now that Vera steps up from behind Taylor while the door closes behind them.

Immediately Smoke’s face softens; a shine in her eye, what she probably thinks is tender warmth in her half-smile. What people who can’t love must think love looks like as an expression.

“Vera, baby girl, you —”

The nickname makes Vera cringe. “I told you not to call me that.” She’s probably the only person who could get away with interrupting the mob boss and leave alive.

“Vee —”

“No, mother; no names but my own.”

Smoke’s brow twitches but her frustration is well-corralled. “Very well, Vera.”

“Where do you get off on demandin’ to see me like this? Or makin’ your wardens bully my friends into coming with?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with the troublemakers at Persephone?”

There’s nothing familial about their exchange but Smoke still manages to make Vera feel like a scolded child. Ducked head and eyes searching for a spot on the carpet — but hindered by the fog.

“You know I don’t like non-answers, Vera.” Smoke presses, but Vera doesn’t yield. Earns them all a heavy sigh while Smoke leans forward and folds her hands together atop an open date book. “Lucky for you, girl, I know all I need to on account of how helpful our friend Meerl has been.

“See, he knew I’d take care of everything — but I can’t fix what I don’t know is broke. And would you believe he was the only one to tell me about the unfortunate situation of the fights before morning?”

The goblin practically preens — likely taking her words as praise.

“The Lady knows Meerl only wants what is best for the Lady’s business, of course.”

“Especially if it keeps his ugly hide from getting flayed alive?”

The haughtiness of Ryder’s tone doesn’t have an ounce of remorse. Not even when it drags the almost golden-yellow of Lady Smoke’s eyes to him. Resting with the full weight of her frustration just below the poised surface.

“You never cease to surprise, do you Mister Ryder?” she croons.

“‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about; predictable’s my middle name.”

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have been waist-deep in my affairs at Persephone.”

“And here I thought I was building a reputation for stickin’ my nose in other peoples business.”

“This ain’t just anyone’s business, though, is it?”

It hasn’t occurred to Taylor until just now that Kristof and the Jensen Pack may not be the only big-wigs in New Orleans that Ryder has crossed. Luckily it seems like a distant familiarity though. A mutual respect; and an unspoken threat on both sides to stay out of one another’s way.

And now Ryder’s gone and drawn first blood — er, well, metaphorically speaking.

Oh this could be bad. This could be very very bad.

Only the ice in her tone seems to have the opposite of the intended effect. Makes Ryder stand up straighter with his jaw clenched tight, his words a snarl that makes even Cal blink in surprise.

“If I’d a’known you were in the business of pimpin’ out kids for your cash fights, Smoke, I would’ve gotten involved a lot sooner. You can bet on that.”

The color drains out of Vera’s cheeks. Catches her torn between looking at her mother for any kind of denial and, finding none, unable to face the truth without feeling like she’s about to wretch.

“Momma, you didn’t…”

“Don’t you start that now, Vera.”

“But a kid?”

Smoke stands with her fingertips spread and pressed into her desk. Her sigh carries a visible weight in her shoulders. It’s heavy for sure but if it isn’t the burden of guilt then whatever she’s feeling means fuck-all to him.

“The Lowell boy was betting with money that wasn’t his. On top of that — he thought he could swindle my hard-earning regulars without consequence. Sometimes they have to learn young.

“You’d know that, baby girl, if you hadn’t left.”

Tears well up, misting over Vera’s eyes. But its an incredible feat of willpower that keeps her from shedding them — that lets her choke them down. Certainly not the first, and likely not the last.

“Don’t you dare play it off like you were trying to parent my kid brother.” Only then does Lady Smoke actually notice Cal. Cal with his face flush with fury and canines bared; Cal with his eyes as yellow as the gold the mob boss wraps herself in.

“Mister Ryder; I suggest you rein your feral friend in a tad.”

Nik throws his hands up. “No way.”

There’s a very well in the roll of her eyes. Has her walking around her desk with a lush black velvet cape trailing at her modest heels.

“You must be Cal.”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Then I will tell you the same thing I told your fledgling con artist brother. It’s an old saying — perhaps you’ve heard of it. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”

Smoke stands there, haughty and higher than them all — even as Cal roars “You callous bitch!” and makes for her ready to draw blood. And a lot of it.

Whatever witchy-mojo she has must be fucking powerful even if Taylor can’t feel it. All it takes is Smoke’s raised hand and even Nik holds his breath.

“You had posters,” the wolf seethes, “locked him in a cage like he was an animal!”

“Your brother had racked up quite a debt.”

“He’s just a boy!”

“Enough!”

When the gloves come off — literally in Lady Smoke’s case — all hell breaks loose.

Taylor looks around wildly, feels himself being pulled back on two sides — catches the first and likely only time Vera and Nik are of the same mind. Backing him up against a wall-length bookshelf so hard he knocks a few volumes on their sides.

For the first time since they arrived Cadence is sprung to action. Holds Cal back with a firm hand but keeps his distance from the witch and her exposed skin. The same look of cautious fear in his eyes as he had in the cage.

And at the couch, their drinks forgotten and seeping into the rich upholstery, Katherine aims a familiar-looking gun dead between Smoke’s eyes. Completely disregarding the also-familiar sister weapons now aimed at her from across the room.

Now would be the opportune moment for the main character to leap out in the middle of the fray and convince everyone to calm down; to shout “Nobody needs to get hurt tonight — we’re all on the same side!” or some other amount of crap that would be the bare minimum in getting everyone to see the bigger picture.

Ha — no thanks. No way is he getting mixed in with a vampire who tore a Minotaur to shreds, more guns than should legally be allowed in the same room, and whatever danger Smoke’s manicure ignites.

Nope. See, the best he can figure is there’s a reason Vera and Nik were so hasty to pull his only-a-threat-after-a-ton-of-spicy-food ass out of the crossfire. And that’s good enough for him.

Only when everyone’s stayed statuesque-still for the better part of a minute does Cadence pull back — away from Lady Smoke, eying her palms with the same look Vera’s giving the guns.

“Enough,” he repeats and is no less forceful, “enough of this, Tonya. You force me here, you force others — innocents — here, all for this flagrant abuse of your power? I settled the Lowell pup’s debt. You and I are even and he’s out of your cross-hairs.”

“So you’ve been saying, Smith,” — so why doesn’t she sound like she’s content to agree? — “but I don’t recall agreeing to your commerce de dettes. As it is not the place of they who owe to decide what is suitable payment.”

“You may be speaking of Dominic Lowell, but the same could be said for you.”

Smoke curls her fingers in the air; reminds Taylor of spider legs.

But Cadence has to be right or she’d have thrown back a snide retort instead of the silent treatment given.

Finally she speaks but her answer is strained. “We never outlined the terms and conditions of that particular contract.”

“Because I know better than to get something in writing with you. I may not know much but I certainly know that.”

“I cannot let this abide, Smith. Actions must be made; consequences for those who would publicly challenge the safety I provide this town —”

Maybe there’s more for her to say but she doesn’t get the chance. Not at the disgusted noise that comes off to Taylor’s right — nor the bewildered look Lady Smoke throws their way. Only when she throws up her pointed finger like a gun instead of a stern mother’s tool does Vera make the noise again.

“‘Safety,’” now she actually sounds the part of the witch, too, with her curled upper lip and fists trembling at her sides, “you’re gonna dare stand there in front’a me and call New Orleans safe? After what I told you was after me?!”

Taylor’s glad he’s between them when Ryder turns a murderous flush of violet.

“Now is not the time to air our family grievances, Vera.”

“You did know.” Taylor whispers. Loud enough for Vera to hear, to flinch and hug her arms around herself. Looking the same measure of scared and young and vulnerable as she did that night. “You—you do. Know; what it is. You know.”

She nods.

“Why didn’t you say?” When Ryder asked, when we locked eyes under Persephone, before Kristin and I jumped over the wall and to our deaths. “Why didn’t you help?”

“I didn’t wanna be right.”

Tonya raises her voice, tries to speak over her daughter. “Vera, this is not the way.”

“How the hell would you know, mom?!” she lashes out a sob, “You’re content to hide here and pretend everyone’s safe when they aren’t?!”

“You’re safe, baby girl, that’s all I care about.”

“Well I ain’t that selfish.”

It’s taking everything in her to not choke; lose her nerve. “If I’d known you spent all this time thinking it was after you, Taylor, I’d’ve told you sooner. I swear I didn’t mean for Cookie to get hurt — you neither. I thought when I split that you’d be safe.”

“Wait — back up. You think this thing is after you?” Nik interrupts, surprised.

“Not another word Vera Claire Reimonenq, so help me God.”

Ice-cold demeanor finally melted, some version of the real Tonya Reimonenq shines through in the crack in her voice. In the way she bites her bottom lip so hard it might burst like the vein in her temple might burst.

Taylor just doesn’t get why everyone is suddenly so freaked out about the way her hand is held aloft at Cadence’s neck. One deep bob of his Adam’s Apple away from choking the life out of the undead.

Katherine the opportunist takes the stunned pause to aim instead at Vera. Passes the barrel of the gun over Taylor’s chest and this is now officially too many times in the same week his life has flashed before his eyes and been less-than satisfying.

“Back. off. Smoke.” The huntress orders.

Cadence resists swallowing — painfully so.

Time to finally take the hint and get as scared as the rest of them it seems.

“You even think about pulling that trigger — you know what I’ll do to him.”

Katherine’s laugh is an unfeeling thing. Like a whole different woman stands before them — someone used to carrying the gun, to doing what needs to be done.

“And the payday of a lifetime goes down the drain, sure,” but her finger doesn’t stop caressing just shy of the pressure point, “but I’ll always find another. Don’t think the same can be said about a daughter, though.”

“Katherine —”

“Shut up, Nik. I let you do your stupid shit. My turn.”

Taylor’s one stupid heroically-inclined thought from stepping in front of Vera when she speaks up; “Stop it, momma. Just — stop it. Too many people been hurt already.

“Too many more’ll be, too, if we don’t try to get help.”

“You think they’ll help us? The whole city will turn their backs on us — make sure we’re the ones who suffer instead of them!”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know them!”

“Stop being so damn naive!”

Voices, tensions rising. Arms wavering with the weight of their weapons and sweat beading like the first of so many bullets down everyone’s backs; their brows.

It’s not the heroic, main character thing to say but that doesn’t stop Taylor from feeling really good about it when he finally shouts —

“Will someone please just say what the literal flippity fuck is out there?!”

“A bloodwraith!”

The way Vera covers her mouth he half expects to see blood dripping down her chin to stain her blouse. Her tongue bit off as divine — or supernatural — retribution for her admission.

Not that that’s the case. In fact he’s left feeling a little bit like he was denied some grand climax.

So he does what he always does — because this other, darker world seems to exist to make him look absolutely ridiculous in how little he knows — he looks to Nik for the textbook entry he’s missing.

“And a ‘bloodwraith’ would be…?”

“Trouble, Rook…”

Lady Smoke’s pulling her gloves back on. The gun hangs limp at Kathy’s side. Even the biggest bully of the henchmen looks ready to wet himself. There’s nothing reassuring about Cadence’s slow nod of realization — the way the natural enemies vampire and werewolf share a look of ‘well hell.’

Sometimes it’s not a rallying cry that gets opposing forces to work together. Sometimes fear is more than enough.

And the way Nik pulls him in close, hugs him with one strong arm like he’s already a dead man walking? That’s… uh… that’s pretty damn fearful.

“— It’s really, really big trouble.”

#nightbound #choices nb #playchoices #nik ryder #cal lowell #nik ryder x mc #vera reimonenq #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[xbarrjallenx]

The Only One

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Summary: A drunk and cheeky Newt asked (Y/N) to give him some love once again. Would the latter grant his request before their reunion night came to an end?

Word count: 2.890

Posted: 12th of December 2018

A/N: And here is the third and the final part of Happier! I don’t know how it turned out, but I did my best to give it a fair ending. Please leave some feedbacks, because I really need to know what you think about it, so please please, I am desperately begging you.

My song inspiration for this part is Ed Sheeran’s “One”. It is one of my favourite songs, so please give it a listen. Thank you very much for the love and support!

- G. x

P.S.: Tumblr is having problems with links in the post, so if you want to read the first and the second part, you can go to my profile and search for Happier and Give Me Love in my Masterlist, under Fantastic Beasts section. Thank you and sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags: @atlas-of-a-human-soul; @i-ship-it-ironically; @dreacantsleep; @writtenbypics; @themagicforceofmischief; @ann-is-amazing-person; @llealia

“Wha-,” Your eyes grew wide in shock as soon as you heard his request, which was also a kind of a confession, and your heart hastily pounded against your chest. “What? Newt, are you okay?” You were startled, because he wasn’t a very straightforward person before, but his older brother and your best friend just widely smiled to encourage you to believe him.

Give me love like never before, because after all this time, I still feel the same for you.

You were completely confused and your brain suddenly seized by hearing his muffled, but still understandable words. Well, that was the most bemusing thing that you have ever heard in your life.

What did he just say? He still felt the same for you? He still loved you? He wanted for you to love him again? Absurd!

“It’s okay, if you do-,” Newt started his indistinctive mumbles once again, but Leta cut him off as she pushed you closer to him, giggling in excitement. You almost knocked him off his feet, but you thankfully gripped on the table in front of you.

“She’s going with you.”

You swore to Merlin that you have never loathed anyone in your life until that very specific moment. How would you talk to him? You didn’t have any shots of firewhisky to build your courage high, what were you going to tell him?

“Good night!” The couple greeted you as soon as you and Newt bid your goodbye. You rolled your eyes at the sight of their cheeky smiles, but then you just shrugged it off. Newt was still a special person for you, after all.

The journey to Newt’s home was rather quiet and awkward. Many things ran through your clouded mind, but Newt didn’t seem to be bothered by any of his thoughts. In fact, he was being carefree as he hummed to a song that you barely recognised.

Give me love like never before, but how would you if he already had Tina? I still feel the same for you, when did he exactly realise it?

You walked beside him, your steps were serene, but his were messy, obviously because of the drunkenness. The space between you was just right, not too far, not that near either, but sometimes your hand would brush against his and you couldn’t deny that a powerful electricity would still gush through your veins. You longed for him, you longed for his touch and you missed him so much, his confession might be true, but then you realised: he was just drunk. You shouldn’t be too delusional!

“You are too quiet tonight, my (Y/N). What are you thinking about?” Newt instantaneously blurted out, grabbing your icy-cold hand to halt you from walking for a little while.

“Huh?” You were shocked for his direct actions too, mostly for him calling you his, but you quickly calmed down as his hand gave you the warmth that you were searching for ever since you got out of Theseus’ house. The cold winter breeze slightly woke him up, but the circulating alcohol in his system still kept him warm.

“What are you thinking about?” He repeated his question and your heart skipped its beat once again as he tightened his grip on your freezing hand. He still had the same effect on you, he still invigorated you.

“Nothing.” You lied through your teeth and, although you hated on doing it, you retracted your hand from his grasp and kept on walking. You heard him groan in annoyance, but he kept on walking in zigzags.

“(Y/N)!” He childishly whined to call your attention. This wasn’t obviously the Newt that you used to know, but well, ta-da, alcohol’s work, but you loved seeing him act in that way. He slightly made you chuckle, but you quickly stopped it, so you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea.

“What did you drink with your brother tonight, Mr. Scamander?” You raised an eyebrow while you waited for him to be beside you again. “Well, apart from the Champagne.”

“Fire-whis-keey!” He honestly answered, exaggeratedly emphasising every syllable of the word. Oh, what a naughty Hufflepuff!

“Firewhisky?” If it weren’t a night full of surprises! His simple answer suddenly explained why you had a very straightforward Newt Scamander in front of you. That alcoholic drink gifted courage. Every sear that your throat would endure was equivalent to a great quantity of courage. “Theseus, ugh!”

“Actually, it was my choice.” He slightly giggled as he looked at your perplexed, but annoyed facial expression. “It bu-burnt my throat a lot. How did you manage drinking that?”

You just rolled your eyes in response, but your gaze softened when you realised that you were slowly feeling comfortable with Newt once again. After all, you were having a normal conversation right now, as if he didn’t say anything bonkers minutes before. “I was broken hearted and I wanted to forget you. What about you? What is your motive?”

“Forget me?” He playfully scoffed as he remembered the last night you saw each other. “I remember otherwise.”

“Oh, shut up, Scamander!” You vexedly slapped his chest as he continuously teased, but you both burst into a noisy laughter soon after, making some chaos in the serene street you were walking on. “So, what is your motive? Are you trying to forget someone too?”

You avoided his gaze as Tina Goldstein came across your mind. Was he doing the same thing you did when you wanted to forget him? Was he ruining himself too to relieve his broken heart? Did Tina even break his heart? If yes, how could she? Newt was the most amazing person that you have ever known in your life.

He stopped you once again from walking, gripping on your arm this time. “No, stop torturing yourself with your useless thoughts! I did it just because I wanted to have an overflowing amount of courage on doing this.”

Newt nonchalantly pulled you close to him, your body tenderly bumping against his. His warm hand was brought on your crimson red cheek and he suddenly leant in to press a gentle kiss on your quivering lips. Saying that you were flabbergasted wasn’t enough, you never expected for this to happen!

Newt was literally out of his mind, but you realised that you were too, when you chose to flutter close your eyes and move your lips together with his. You missed this, you missed him. Your heart was crazily beating, because of the tenderness of his touch. You were kissing him again, after months of not seeing each other, after months of avoiding each other.

The kiss was so romantic and sweet, needy at the right point. He missed you, he needed you and to deepen the kiss even more, he slithered his arms around your waist, while you brought yours around his neck, slowly tugging your icy-cold fingers in his messy dark-auburn locks. His massive lips gave you comfort and warmth, albeit the bitter taste of the alcohol invaded your taste buds. His touch brought you to another world, a world where all the wrong things seemed so right and the right things seemed so wrong.

“Newt!” You called him out in the middle of your little making out session in one of the serene and quiet streets of London. You loved everything about it, you loved locking lips with him once again, but a little thought rapidly brought you back to the reality. “This is wrong.”

“Your lips and your body said otherwise, love.” Newt cheekily smirked as soon as you pushed him away from you, hands sadly leaving his tousled hair. You wanted to stay in his arms the whole night, but it was all wrong.

You were confused as different emotions wrapped your system: worry, because you still longed for his warmth, although it was erratic and inappropriate; sadness, because he wasn’t yours to hold anymore; agony, because your heart still beat for him even after he hurt you; nostalgia, because the taste that his lips allowed awakened most of your wonderful memories with him.

“Oh, the guy who flirts with you at work. Right!” Newt’s smirk speedily faltered as he remembered something that has been mentioned during the dinner earlier. How could he be so stupid sometimes?

You shook your head in response, hoping that he would understand that the guy meant really nothing to you. “I actually meant your girl, Tina.” You softly pronounced her name and warm teardrops briskly rolled down your face.

The thought of her having the man that you once loved broke you, hurt you.

“You don’t have to worry about her.” Newt assured you with a soft purr as he pulled you close to him once again. “Stop crying.”

“Why?” You asked while he cupped your cheeks with his calloused hand and wiped your hot tears with his thumbs just like how he used to.

Give me love like never before, because after all this time, I still feel the same for you.

His words echoed through the walls of your fuzzy mind once again and you just knew that the time of asking him what he really meant earlier came. After all, he didn’t answer your question regarding his new love interest.

“Newt?” You calmly called and he hummed in response to tell you that he was listening. “What do you even mean when you asked me to give you love like never before?”

Newt considered your eyes and squeezed your cheeks sheepishly. “It’s not that hard to understand, (Y/N).”

“I know, but all of this is bonkers for me, Newt!” You truthfully explained, grabbing his coat’s sleeves to take his hands off your reddened face. “I don’t even know if I should believe you or not.”

“Why is it difficult to believe me?” He eagerly asked and you just unleashed a long and heavy sigh before starting to walk once again. “Is it because I am drunk?”

“Yes,” You confidently and honestly answered. “aren’t you?”

“May I ask you a question, (Y/N)?” He asked as he walked towards your direction, still following you in zigzags. He kept on dropping important topics aside and he started getting on your nerves.

“Answering a question with another question isn’t very respectful, Mr. Scamander,” You sarcastically told him, shaking your head as you saw him struggling to walk properly. “but fire away.”

“Did you really mean what you said to me that night? That you would wait for me until she breaks my heart?” He brought the most improper topic up, still having lots of courage in his store. He never had the chance to ask you about it, he started avoiding you and you started avoiding him, right? This was his time.

You suddenly stopped from walking as you remembered what you told him that night and you suddenly felt a pang in your chest. Why did you do this to yourself? “Should I still wait for a very long time?”

“Answering a question with another question isn’t very respectful, (Y/N).” The cheeky Hufflepuff fired back, copying your statement minutes before. Touché, but couldn’t he be serious for just one time?

“Newton Scamander!” You pouted while you severely scolded him. He just laughed at your actions, but stopped on walking to face you.

“What?”

“You are so miffing!” You whined and you earned more tumultuous laughs from him. He could be very annoying, but he acted that way even when he was sober, so you just shook it off.

Well, he was so adorable when he would enjoy himself and it somehow fluttered your heart, breaking the thick walls that you were slowly building around your heart, in case he revealed you something that would hurt you by the end of your inexhaustible walk.

“But yes, I did mean every single word I said that night. Why would you think that I would lie?” You seriously asked him, making him stop from laughing. “Because I was drunk?”

“Exactly my point, love!” He slightly chuckled while he walked back towards your direction to grab your hand and pulled you as you both walked together. “You know, even though I am drunk, I am still aware of what I am doing, (Y/N), because I know what my heart wants.”

“And what does your heart want?” You curiously asked, considering his bluish-green orbs as you walked hand in hand. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, but he still guided you. Was it you or Newt the drunk one?

“Another request for the night!” He blurted out with a wide grin on his face. He changed your topic once again and he was really trying to annoy you.

This limitless walk with Newt seemed like a very long rollercoaster ride. It was a walk full of ups, downs and loops of emotions.

“Again?” You vexedly whined, childishly pouting.

“You asked me what my heart wants, (Y/N)!” He sternly exclaimed to let you know that he was being serious this time.

“Ugh,” You groaned in annoyance, but your expression lit up as you finally saw his house from afar. It would be his last request for the night. It was too much, but you didn’t want to regret anything else for the rest of your life. Seize the night, just like what Theseus said before the dinner has started. “what is it?”

You both halted on walking as soon as you reached his porch and he leant in towards your direction to mumble something in your ear. “P-Please s-stay with me.”

“S-s-stay with you?” You terribly stuttered while curiosity and anxiety filled your senses. You couldn’t believe that he was requesting such thing from you, in fact you thought it was just one of his lame ways to make fun of you, but when you considered his stunning eyes, he seemed very sober and earnest. “Newt?”

“Yes,” He nodded sincerely with a warm toothy smile plastered on his face. “please stay with me forever.”

“Huh?” You harshly bit your lower lip, unanswerable questions popping in your head. “I don’t understand. How about Tina? Where is Tina? Why are you asking me this? What are you, Newt? Insane?”

Newt just shook his head in disbelief, letting go of your hand as he pulled you close to him. He was so touchy, still alcohol’s works, but you loved it when he welcomed your body in a lighthearted embrace.

“You might have noticed that I was happy with Tina that time, but the truth is that I am happier with you, (Y/N).” He truthfully confessed while he lovingly caressed your hair with his fingers. His voice was gloomy, but honest. He was hurt when you walked away from him that night, because that was when he realised that you were his everything. He realised that leaving the only person that he loved the most was the greatest mistake that he has ever done in his life and he wanted that person back. He needed you back. “I only have these eyes for you and I realised how important you are to me.”

You were important to him? That confession overwhelmed you even more. He still wanted you in his life and you were having mixed emotions once again, but this time, you could barely explain to yourself what you were exactly feeling, but happiness was surely dominating.

“Did she break your heart?” You calmly asked, being as stupid as Newt when he pointed out the guy who flirted with you at work during a very serious moment.

“All my senses came to light, (Y/N).” He softly mumbled as he left a sweet kiss on your temple. You shut your eyes as you enjoyed Newt’s presence, smelling his perfume as you buried your head on the crook of his neck. “I still love you, (Y/N).”

He still loved you! He still did and that moment seemed so surreal for you that you were so afraid to let him go, because you thought that might just lose him again. It seemed like a very unrealistic dream, because he took you back to him in just a heart beat. You were back in his arms, you were back in your own home.

“A-are you staying?” His voice nonchalantly broke, confidence and courage slowly deflating when he didn’t hear you answer back. “(Y/N)?”

“I love you too, Newt, and I am absolutely staying with you!” You suddenly hugged him back, snaking your arms around his torso tightly. He wanted you back and, it was useless to not grant his last request, because you wanted him too, you needed him too. “Please don’t ever leave me again, Newt.”

You kept your eyes solidly shut and your grip around his body was even tighter.

“I already made a mistake when I left you once, my little (Y/N). I wouldn’t forgive myself if I made another one.” He honestly muttered, planting a kiss on the top of your head while some choked sobs left his lips. The fear of completely losing you was still fresh in his mind.

“Newt, my love,” You comforted him by rubbing his back with your hands. “I am here now.”

“And I promise I’ll never leave again,” He proudly pledged, both of your hearts beating as one. “because you are the only one, my only one.”

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander #newt scamander angst #newt scamander one shot #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander fluff #eddie redmayne fluff #eddie redmayne x reader #eddie redmayne imagines #eddie redmayne #xbarrjallenx #masterlist #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts and where to find them #crimes of grindlewald imagines #crimes of grindelwald #happier #give me love

[earthtoerica]

The Mighty Nein: Enneagram

So this is a post I didn’t think I would be making, but because I am a big fan of Sleeping At Last’s songs centered around the Enneagram Test, and I love Critical Role, I thought why not combine the two and see which member of the Mighty Nein resonates the most with each song. ( And if you haven’t listened to Sleeping at Last before you absolutely should because their music is so calming and thought-provoking!)

Has this been done before? Perhaps, but I haven’t seen it and thought I’d try my take on it. Here goes nothing!

The List:

One- Beau

Two- Nott

Three- Fjord

Four- Caleb

Five- NPCs + Guest’s Characters

Six- Caduceus

Seven- Jester

Eight- Yasha

Nine- Molly

And here’s why:

One - Beau: “hold on for a minute because I believe that we can fix this over time” “The list goes on forever, with the ways I could be better in my mind” “As if I could earn God’s favor over time, or at least congratulations.”

 In times of desperation, Beau will often if not always step up to steer the M9 in the right direction. Though she may push down her emotions to make sure the group can keep going, she appears to have the mindset that anything can be fixed given enough time, or at least changed for the better. That being said, she has stated herself that she thinks she is an asshole, someone who could always improve for the better given the bad things she has done in the past and the fact that she considers herself to be a screw up. But in reality, she is one of the most selfless members of the Mighty Nein, risking life and limb to keep the people she loves safe. 

I also think this song relates to Beau the most because she is often questioning her purpose and why she is unworthy of divine support or special abilities. She wonders why she is the only one without powers, striving to earn the favor of the gods, but unsure of what that really means. I hope that over time Beau will come to realize her strength and abilities as a monk and her loyalty and love as a person are what make her special, and that she is as worthy of divine support as anyone else.

Two - Nott: “You know I’ll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat” “I know exactly how the rule goes, put my mask on first. No I don’t want to talk about myself tell me where it hurts” “I just want to build you up, build you up, till you’re good as new, and maybe one day I will get around, to fixing myself too.”

When I first thought about making a post like this, I knew immediately that to me Nott resonated completely with the song Two. Choosing to put herself in the line of fire for her loved ones no matter what that might mean for her safety, because as long as the others are safe that is all the matters to her. I mean, literally the line about putting on a mask made me think of Nott automatically, whether it be her doll’s mask or a metaphorical one, to keep others out and her own feelings in. Before we knew about Nott’s backstory she would always deflect away from talking about herself to make sure the people around her were okay. 

And that is what I think is a major part of Nott’s character and something that makes me resonate her so easily with this song. That Nott is unwilling to address her own problems and emotions because they are too confusing, conflicting and stressful, so she would rather check in with the other members of the Mighty Nein, to help fix their problems and help them to achieve their goals like she has promised to do for Caleb, believing that maybe one day down the line after helping the others she may finally conquer her own problems as well.

Three - Fjord: “Maybe I’ve done enough, finally catching up, for the first time I see an image of my brokenness utterly worthy of love” “I finally see myself, unabridged and overwhelmed, a mess of a story I’m ashamed to tell, but I’m slowly learning how to break this spell” “I only want what’s real, I set aside the highlight reel, and leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk, worthy of love anyway.”

Fjord is such an interesting character to me, and someone that I really hope can come to accept himself for who he is, and understand that the rest of the Mighty Nein love and respect him, his role in the group cemented. After recent events in these past few episodes, Fjord is on his way to knowing that the M9 truly care about him, willing to risk their lives to come back for him just like they did with the Iron Shepherds. Fjord is starting to realize that he is important to these people, and that they care about him just as much as he cares about them, something he has never experienced before. For the first time in his life, Fjord is experiencing what it is like to have a family, people that want to help you succeed and accept you despite your failures.

 Though he struggles with sharing the parts of his past he is ashamed of, Fjord has even stated to Caleb that given time, he will share these things he dislikes about himself, allowing support and forgiveness in. He is on his way to understanding that no matter his shortcomings, what his patron may say or do, the Mighty Nein care about him and would never consider him useless, for he means to much to them, something he may one day come to recognize and use as a source of strength, Go Fjord!

Four - Caleb: “Bodies fashioned out of dirt and dust for a moment we get to be glorious” “Maybe I’m hiding behind metaphor, maybe my heart needs to break to be sure, one day I’ll wear it all on my sleeve, the insignificant with the sacred unique” “What if we already are, who we’ve been dying to become, in certain light I can plainly see, a reflection of magnificence hidden in you, maybe even in me.”

Caleb is such a hard character to determine where his character arc is going to go. All I can speak on is where he appears to be now. I think this song is reflective of Caleb for several reasons. He himself was fashioned out of dirt and dust, chosen to come from a small town to the Soltryce Academy to be a wizard because he had special magic abilities. Though that experience was harrowing and lead him to tragedy, in that time he came to recognize that he was remarkable and considered special at a young age for everything he could do. But after the events of his past that he would give anything to change, he has closed himself off to others, only recently opening up due to necessity and the desire to help Nott. 

Perhaps he will someday be completely open with all members of the Mighty Nein, discussing anything and everything about himself and what he wants to further achieve his goals. Even Beau has commented on his ability to ask for help after he started opening up, questioning him on how it could be so easy and he said it just is. He has recognized how easy it can be to rely on others but worries that in doing so he is putting the ones he cares about in danger and straying farther away from what he truly wants. And that has been stated to be one of Caleb’s biggest fears, that as he and the M9 grow as people, doing good for the people around them as much as possible and trying to leave places better than they found them, that he might one day feel like he can’t do what he has been working so hard to achieve because he cares about these people too much. That he might come to see himself in a better light as someone that can move forward and let go of the past, something he currently could never do. We will definitely see what will happen to dear Caleb Widowgast, but I’m excited to find out!

Five - NPCs + Guest Characters: “It feels like an out of body experience, but something gets lost from a safe distance and now I can’t put my mind to rest and I can’t help but second guess” “I’m hypnotized by this anomaly, such strange uncharted territory” “My armor falls apart, as if I could let myself be seen, even deeply known, like I was already brave enough to let go.”

It was really difficult for me to determine who related the most heavily to Five. And after a lot of thought and consideration I realized that even though in total there are and always will be eight members of the Mighty Nein, the ninth member is made up of everyone that has not only helped the M9 throughout their journeys, but also everyone that the Mighty Nein has helped as well. Thus I related Five to the many NPCs Matt has created and the wonderful guest characters like Keg, Nila, Shakaste, Twiggy, Calianna, and even Spurt. Meeting the Mighty Nein and dealing with their crazy antics and ideas can be an almost out of body experience, trying to fit oneself into their exhilarating lifestyle might seem almost impossible. Their vibrant and excitable atmosphere would make anyone question how qualified the M9 are for any job, but their determined attitude and desire to do good for others would draw anyone in to help or seek help from them as well. 

The line about letting oneself be seen in this song I think relates heavily to these characters because they are created to be interacted with, to learn something from them, or to be of aid to the M9 in their travels. But when the Mighty Nein take that extra step to learn more about a shopkeeper, to assist someone in need on the street, or to gain the assistance of a fellow traveler to achieve their goals, they are taking the time to learn about a stranger, to understand them on a personal level, treating them as if they already are a part of the M9 in many cases, which is something I love about this rag tag group of adventurers. And something that any NPC would love to, as long as the M9 aren't too nosy. 

Six - Caduceus: “What would it feel like to put this baggage down, if I’m being honest I’m not sure I know how” “I want to believe, no I choose to believe, that I was made to become a sanctuary. Fear won’t go away, but I can keep it at bay” “Is that courage or faith to show up everyday, trust that there will be light always waiting behind even the darkest of nights, and no matter what somehow we’ll be okay.” 

The fact that we know next to nothing about Caduceus destroys me a bit more each day until we do, but he is such a wonderful character and so important to maintaining hope in the Mighty Nein, but also keeping their sanity. I don’t think it’s that Caduceus is unwilling to share his past with the Mighty Nein, I believe it’s primarily because no one ever really asks him about himself, and he doesn’t have experience in people choosing to ask him how he is instead of the other way around. It had been said that Caduceus would tell people almost anything if they simply asked, but most people are more focused on their own problems than the problems of others. Caduceus is someone who works to keep the peace, to drive people towards their destinies and to prove that hope and purpose can be found even in the darkest of moments. 

He is a sanctuary for the members of the Mighty Nein, someone they can turn to who will speak without judgement, providing honest advice and ideas about what might be the next step to furthering one’s path, while continually promising that all things and people have purpose. At first Caduceus was hesitant to continue traveling with the Mighty Nein, as their choices and actions did not align well with Caduceus’ goals to save his home. But over time, and with continued faith in the Wildmother showing him his path, Caduceus is willing to get up everyday and support the people he cares about, pushing himself further and further towards his goals no matter the obstacle.

Seven - Jester: “How wonderful, to see a smile on your face, it costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade. A secret handshake and my one life, I find a silver lining no matter what the price” “Let me tell you another secret of the trade, it feels like sinking when I’m standing in one place” “I want to be here, truly be here, to watch the ones that I love bloom, and I want to make room to love them through and through and through and through the slow and barren seasons too. I feel hope, deep in my bones, that tomorrow will be beautiful.”

In my eyes, Jester is one of the strongest members of the Mighty Nein. Whether you think of it as strong as in strength, emotionally, or what have you, she always sees the best in people, constantly working to make the people she loves and anyone she can smile and feel better no matter how much she may be hurting inside. And though it hurt her to have to leave her mother in Nicodranas to go see the world, she knows that in doing so she can always return, to receive a hug, to tell stories, and to show love to her mother and be loved in return. However, despite the circumstances that led to Jester having to leave her home and travel, it was inevitably time for her to face the world. She had spent so much of her life stuck up in her bedroom to not have the opportunity to experience anything and everything possible. 

That is why I relate the line “it feels like sinking when I’m standing in one place” to Jester because she is always excited to travel to new places with her friends, to have more adventures to tell her mother about and provide her with more opportunities to search for her father in the process. (Still waiting for that interaction if it ever happens by the way). What I admire the most about Jester and what is so strong about her character is her undying love and faith in her companions. She wants nothing more than to help the people she loves and to make them happy. She wants the M9 to be able to let go of the problems of their past or to face them head on so that they can grow and live their lives to the fullest with all the time they have. She believes so strongly in the people around her, in the Traveler, and in what they can do to help others that she knows no matter the strife, no matter what challenges they face, things can always be better tomorrow, as long as they stick together and face the world with a smile and hope. 

Eight - Yasha: “Now you won’t see all that I have to lose, and all that I’ve lost in the fight to protect it. I won't let you in, I swore never again, I can't afford no I refuse to be rejected” “I want to break these bones till they are better, I want to break them right and feel alive you were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong my healing needed more than time” “I’m standing guard, I’m falling apart, and all I want is to trust you. Show me how, to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.”

Talking about Yasha hurts my heart, but when I heard this song I thought of her automatically. Time and time again in the process of trying to protect the ones she loves, all she has done is lose them. After the second time she has not been the same, weary of letting people get close for fear of hurting them because of who she is and all she doesn’t know about herself. For her, it takes more than time to heal wounds, it takes understanding and forgiveness she does not believe she deserves but she truly needs. Despite the awkward, slightly off-putting demeanor she may present to others, Yasha cares about the Mighty Nein more than she would like, and wants nothing more than to protect them from any and all danger, and from herself. 

She wants to let people in, which is why she shared as much as she did about her past and her wife. We have seen how emotional it makes her to hear that the M9 love her and want her to be safe. But Yasha needs answers, about who she is, who she was, why the Stormlord chose her, and what her future path might look like. Though she loves the Mighty Nein and wants to be with them and help on their journeys, the fear of losing them may lead to dire situations and the possibility that in finding the answers she seeks she may be separating herself further and further from the ones she cares about the most. (Yasha I love you all I can say is oof).

Nine (nein) - Molly: “Who am I to say what any of this means, I have been sleepwalking since I was fourteen. Now as I write my song, I retrace my steps, honestly its easier to let myself forget” “It looks like empathy to understand all sides, but I'm just trying to find myself through someone else’s eyes. So show me what to do, to restart this heart of mine, how do I forgive myself for losing so much time?” “A little at a time, I feel more alive, I let the scale tip and feel all of it, it’s uncomfortable but right, and we were born to try to see each other through, to know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we’ll ever do.”

I mean really, there was no other way to close this out. (Spoilers ahead, kids, because you never know how far someone has seen). Considered the most short-lived, and one of the most impactful members of the Mighty Nein, Mollymauk was someone I always wanted to know more about, but never got the chance. When Molly dug himself out of the ground he did not want to know whose name was attached to his body before, because sometimes it’s easier to forget to make it your own. This is evidently clear by the many tattoos that covered his body, and the fact that he openly stated that this body was his and his alone. No one else is in control of it, he makes the decisions, and no one else can have a say in who he is and who he will be. Though he may have been stern and cold towards others at times, he always looked at all sides of a problem or conflict, and used all information available to make an opinion on what was right and just, one of his many famous lines being “we only steal from grumpy people”. Molly was always confident in who he was, but there were things he was missing because he didn't have a past to look back on. I just wish he could have had the time to find out. 

The final lines of the song are what I relate so strongly to Molly, that “to know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we’ll ever do” feels almost like his motto and the strongest impact his life and death had on the Mighty Nein. After his passing it became Beau’s personal mission, and a mission she pushed onto the Mighty Nein, to leave every place they visit better than they found it, something Molly instilled on her that had a lasting impact. So far, the Mighty Nein have been somewhat successful in fulfilling this goal, but it continues to be a driving force in everything they do, working to help others and make the world a better place for all those who inhabit it and those they have lost in the journey to make it a reality. Thank you for having been such a driving force in bringing the Mighty Nein together Molly, you were right, they really were a group of people in need of a good time and you gave it to them. Rest well.

So that’s everything! I’m sorry this was such a long post but I’ve been thinking about it for so long and I love Critical Role and its characters so much that I felt it was time to share my thoughts on why I relate the Mighty Nein so much to these songs. As I’ve said, if you haven’t I highly suggest checking out Sleeping at Last, they are fantastic and their songs are just as impactful and meaningful as the Mighty Nein themselves! 

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and here’s to another wonderful Thursday. Remember, don't forget to love each other!

#Critical Role #the mighty nein #cr spoilers #sleeping at last #enneagram

[alia-turin]

Since I finished Comrades I have been a bit disappointed of the lack of details regarding what is happening with pretty much everyone so I decided to provide myself (and you guys) with an explanation from the POV of an OC. It would be multichapter fic, and the whole point is to go through what is happening in Lestallum (beside hunts) how are the characters (Cor, Gladio, Ignis, Prompto etc.) dealing with Noct being gone. 

Title: Broken Bonds [Chapter I] Characters: OC, Libertus Ostium, Nyx Ulric (mentioned), Luche Lazarus (mentioned), Titus Drautos | Glauca (mentioned) Warning: SFW for work, next chapters might not be but there will be warning. Notes: Story starts just as Libertus meets the Avatar in Comrades. there are no major spoilers in this chapter as long as you know how the first 5 minutes of Comrades develop, you are spoiler safe. This chapter is A BIT too long, the rest would be most likely shorter.

Tagging: @birdsandivory   @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @jojopitcher @fromunseeliecourt (tagging you because you commented on my OC post few days ago, if you don’t want to te tagged please let me know) @xanxusthot @lazarustrashpit @littlestfangirl 

If anyone wants to be tagged (or untagged) in the future please let me know.

Ada found a small hut that seemed good enough for a shelter during the night. She was starving and had finished her last drop of water few hours ago. With any luck there would be someone in the hut or there might be supplies. Even a rotten vegetable seemed like a feast at that point.

The door was unlocked which was good news, she wasn’t sure if breaking the door was within her physical abilities at the moment. The hut was empty and looted. The furniture was broken or stolen, there was broken glass from what she assumed were cupboards and pieces of torn clothing. She started systematically going around the place looking for food or water but she had no luck. Shelter was the only things he could get from that place and it was still better than nothing.

She gathered few of the clothes and put them in one of the corners. That was going to serve as her bed for tonight. She sat on top of the pile, her back facing the corner, her eyes having view to every possible entrance of the place. Next to her foot there was a small wooden stick, and Ada reached for it. With some imagination it looked like a candle. She held it in her fingers and lit the stick with magic.

“Happy birthday to me.” She whispered sadly.  

Years ago, when she still lived in Galahd with her family she had them and her friends to celebrate. Then they were forced to move out since the Empire was treating them worse and worse with every passing year. Still even as e refugee she had her family and then when she joined the Kingsglaive, there was that. But now her family and the Glaive were gone, and she was homeless and alone.

She sank into dark sleep, having the same nightmares she has been having since Insomnia fell. She was alone running out of the city, bleeding heavily and her head hurting as if someone put a nail in it. Then she dreamt of her argument with Luche. They argued until he lost his temper and slammed her hard against the wall. At that point she realized arguing is not how thing would go down. They fought and he won, leaving her almost dead. In the months that followed she still couldn’t decide what hurt more, the wounds or the fact she was betrayed and helpless. The wounds have healed since then, but she was still having nightmares and flashbacks.

Ada woke up from the sound of demons roaring outside.

“Everybody I know is either death or a traitor.”

It has been one year since all that happened and her mind was still not free of the guilt. She spent the rest of the night staring in the darkness unable to calm her mind.

 Morning came and it was time for her to move on. If she didn’t find water today she was going die very soon.

The darkness had not left completely. It has been months since she had seen fully lit day. Right now, the sky looked mostly like a sunset and she knew it will continue looking like that for the rest of the day. Ada looked around for some familial landmarks. She had lost her map and her phone was broken so navigation was difficult especially when there was no sun. She decided on a direction but before she could make even a step further something roared from behind her. She didn’t need to wonder what that might be, it was vary recognizable sound. She pulled a knife in one hand and prepared a fire spell in the other.

In front of her was standing a giant flan. Ada took a deep breath realizing she had the strength to fight for no more than five minutes.

 Pain was the first thing that came to her mind as she slowly regained consciousness. It wasn’t pain at particular location, it was all over the body, every muscle, every joint every bone hurt. Distantly, somewhere far away somebody was talking to her. She couldn’t hear actual words but there was a voice and if there was a voice there had to be someone speaking.

“Ada!”

Yes, that was her name…who was calling her? She knew she had to open her eyes, but that seemed too difficult right now.

“Ada!”

She slowly opened her eyes. First everything was blurry, ten there was almost no light. For a second she thought something was wrong with her sight, the light was really weird, but as soon as the person in front of her came to focus she realized it wasn’t her sight it was the sky that was wrong. That was right, the sky has been like that for some time now. Her brain slowly started switching into gear.  

“Libertus…” she mumbled recognizing the man kneeling in front of her. That had to be some sort of a dream or probably she hit her head very bad.

“There you go, few more minutes and I was going to slap you.” He helped her up and passed her a bottle of water. “You seem like you need that.”

She took the water looking at him with suspicion. From all the places in the world to meet another Glaive it happened now. It felt strange. The last Glaive she talked to almost killed her.

‘I was too weak to stop him’ the invited thought just appeared in her mind.

“Thanks, Libertus. You are sight for sore eyes.” She decided to act normal, but at the back of her head she couldn’t stop her defense mechanisms kicking. What if he was after her? What if he had betrayed the King as well?

“I don’t hear that very often.” He passed her two knives. Does where her knives, maybe she lost them during the fight? If he was passing her the knives, maybe he wasn’t after her head. “Hey, we are trying to restore Lestallum and to be honest we desperately need help. Do you think you want to join us?”

Ada bit the inside of her cheek. She has been on her own for almost one year and it was difficult, recently it became even more difficult, but…could she trust Libertus? The Glaives did betray the king and she has not heard from any of them for a year. Not that she ever looked to hear from any of them but there was a reason for it. Luche was one of her best friends since her first day with the Glaives and her head hurt for a month after the encounter with him. Ada wondered if she could take Libertus and the answer was no. Few months ago, probably,  but now she was starving and weak.

“Come on. We have roof over our heads and we don’t get attacked by demons all the time.” Libertus offered her an encouraging smile, but it was the roof over her head that won her over.

She nodded and so she found herself in a truck with Libertus and bunch of meteor shards.

“What are these for?” Ada asked pointing to the meteors. They were strangely pretty even if they were just piled in an old crate.

“Lestallum power station. It’s the only way we can keep the city up and running and of course avoid demons.” Libertus explained, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was somewhere behind probably looking if demons would follow them.

“What did you do after Insomnia?” she decided to address the elephant in the room eventually. After all, once they reached Lestallum she might end up dead.

“Went back to Galahd. I was hoping Nyx would join me but…he never came.” It was strange selection of words. She knew the two of them were close, even if Ada was coming from Galahd as well she never was part of their gang. Compared to them she was relatively new in the Kingsglaive and so she had to find her own crowd. “Eventually decided there were more important things than just sit and wait and heard that the Marshal is trying to bring some civilization to the world.”

“What…happened? In Insomnia.” She slowly moved her hand towards her knife and started preparing a spell. If she didn’t like the answer, she wasn’t going to continue on that journey.

“You don’t remember?” He sounded surprised.

“I wasn’t conscious. Luche left me for death after I refused to participate in his plot. I know the Glaive helped the Niffs, but…when I woke up it was already night and Insomnia was gone.” Her chest was hurting just to talk about that. It has been almost a year and she was still not over it. She was helpless and useless to do the one thing she was supposed to do – defend the king and the people. She had ended up beaten and dying and the best she could do was to run. Maybe she should have died. Maybe Luche leaving her alive was bigger punishment than killing her.

“Whoa!” he almost shouted, staring at her as if she was suddenly growing a second head. “There is a lot you have missed. Well to bring you up to speed, some of the Glaives did betray the king. Luche included. The king was killed by General Glauca, I helped the Oracle escape Insomnia….” He suddenly felt silent.

“What happened with the Captain?” All these months she had blamed herself for not going to him to tell him about Luche, instead she thought she can convince Luche to stop or to stop him whichever worked. Stupid naïve girl….

“Luche really knocked you out very hard if you have missed that as well.” Libertus seemed even more surprised now at her ignorance. “The Captain was in fact General Glauca. Or General Glauca was the Captain, I’m not really sure who came first. The Captain killed the King and he tried to kill the Oracle. Nyx stopped him or I assume he did since nobody has heard from Glauca ever since and somebody else was made a leader of the Niff armies.”

Ada’s head was spinning. Titus Drautos…Glauca? How did that happen? The man was leading the Glaive, the man was fighting with them against the Imperials. He was next to them, he was supporting them, training them, teaching them. So, it wasn’t Luche that was behind the betrayal, something she thought all along. It was way deeper and Luche was just following orders. She wondered what would have happened if Drautos had come to her. If he had told her they were about to kill the king. Would she have said yes as well? She had the utmost admiration for the man, she respected him and now even that was gone.

‘My home is gone; my friends are gone and my teacher is gone.’ The words alone and loneliness suddenly reached whole new scale.

“How about Nyx? You said he never came to Galahd?”

Libertus just shook his head and Ada nodded. What she saw in the eyes of her fellow Glaive was very familiar denial. Same denial she saw in her own eyes every time she looked at her reflection. Nyx Ulric was dead, but Libertus had yet to admit it to himself. The exact same way she had to admit to herself her own failure and weakness.

“Luche was killed as well.” Libertus finally said. “He deserved what he got. Burned to death that idiot.” There was a faint smile on his lips. It wasn’t mockery, but more like relief that an enemy has fallen. Ada couldn’t sympathize with that. Not now at least. “I’m sorry, I know you two were close.” Libertus added quickly.

Ada just shook her head. Luche’s death was his own doing. They were friends, he was the first one to greet her in the Glaive and they happened to come from the same island of Galahd which made it easier to bond. Yet, despite everything he did, she missed him even if she hated him. Sometimes at night she wondered if she was stupid or masochistic.

“Here it is!” Libertus got up and pointed ahead of them.

Lestallum was…beautiful despite the ugly fences and barricades. Best of all there was light. Artificial light, but it was the brightest thing she had seen in months.

“Come on, we need to drop that” he pointed to the meteor shards. “And I need to introduce you to the Marshal.”

#final fantasy #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ff15 #ffxv #libertus ostium #libertus #nyx ulric #nyx #fan fic #my writing