#not even joking but some ao3 authors need immediate therapy

[wulanvansunshine]

I have seen some disturbing ao3 tags in my time

#ao3 #ao3 fanfics #ao3 tags #not even joking but some ao3 authors need immediate therapy #ao3 writer #ao3 writers #fanficion #fanfiction tags #literally traumatised me #highly disturbing #makes me question who reads that #genuinely terrifying #marauders #marauders fanficion #marauders fics #the marauders #marauders era

[fallenhero-rebirth]

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

#personal

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 30

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: At Waystation, pt 3/?

A/N: Chapter 30 already! This chapter was not an easy one to edit as I was insecure about a lot of things, but hey, it's out now and that's what matters, right? I am so aware things are progressing a bit slowly right now but I feel it's kind of 'necessary' to have a bit of down time before things start going down. (Not that I'm capable of writing actual drama.) Well, at least we'll find out a bit more about Leo's past in this chapter.

Without a further ado, please enjoy and let me know what you think (those comments really help me!!!)

Words: exactly 3000 apparently :O

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

After breakfast Leo asked Calypso if she would like him to give her a tour around Waystation. She agreed, but Leo couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at his family members when Georgina asked if she could go with the flatmates and Leo’s mothers told her that they needed Georgie’s help in some Christmas chores.

“What?” Josephine asked innocently when she noticed Leo staring.

“I dunno, tía Jo. It just kinda seems like you don’t want Georgie to hang out with us,” he stated bluntly.

“That’s not accurate at all, Leo,” she denied. “I’d gladly let Georgina go with you but we really do need her help around here. Christmas isn’t coming if we all just slack off, right, Emmie?”

“I agree, dear. I haven’t even…” Emmie’s hesitance only deepened Leo’s suspicions. “...hmmm, taken care of our mistletoes yet.”

“Mistletoes?” Leo crossed his arms over his chest, briefly daring to wonder what would happen if he and Calypso were under one of those plants at the same time. He shook his head to dispel such an idea.

“Didn’t we agree that we don’t need stuff like that? You don’t even like Christmas!”

“I may agree that this holiday is way too commercial these days, but since Emmie has some mistletoes growing in her greenhouse anyway, I don’t see why we wouldn’t use them,” Jo commented. “It’s nice that Georgie gets to experience some of the old traditions even if we grownups don’t care about them.”

“Whatever,” Leo rolled his eyes, knowing he wouldn’t win that battle.

“Um, if you need extra hands,” Calypso joined the conversation, addressing Jo and Emmie, “I don’t have to go with Leo. I’d love to help too.”

Leo felt a twinge of disappointment because of Calypso’s suggestion. His insecure side yelled that maybe he had misread Calypso’s intentions all along.

“Oh, no, no!” Emmie denied immediately. “You are our guest; we want you to take it easy and enjoy your stay here. I bet Leo’s tour is a lot more fun than us peeling way too many potatoes and carrots for the casserole.”

“I wouldn’t mind peeling potatoes,” Calypso mumbled but Leo’s mothers pretended they didn’t even hear that. The flatmates simply had to accept that they wouldn’t have a chaperone - except maybe Festus - on their tour.

Once the two of them were outside, Leo’s thoughts went back to the time when he had first arrived at Waystation. Back then, he had been only 15, having just escaped from his latest foster home, which had been located far away in New Mexico. His foster family there had hidden their opinion on him very badly, giving him sly remarks about his looks and telling him to speak clearer English even though Leo’s English had always been fine, thanks to his real mother allowing him to learn both Spanish and English as a small kid. They had also made him do the hard work such as carrying heavy loads while the other foster kid of the family got the easy tasks. And when he had come home from school with bad grades, the foster parents had commented: “why do we even bother with you?”

At some point Leo had simply had enough, and by selling some of the few belongings he had he had managed to gather just enough money for one plane ticket and so he flew to Indianapolis without telling anything to his foster family.

After living on the streets and successfully dodging the authorities for a couple of weeks, the police finally found him and contacted the local social workers. Thankfully, after Leo put all his convincing skills to use, they agreed to not send him back to New Mexico, instead finding him a new foster family nearby. Leo hadn’t had high expectations because he had been in at least 6 different foster homes since his mother’s death and none of them had been a good match for him. Some had been abusive, some racist, some ignorant, some had had kids who were bullies, some had had alcohol issues… What had been common for them all was that none of them had treated him the way they should have.

That was why Leo had picked some bad habits too; he wanted to drown his feelings somehow and he ended up stealing small amounts of money from his foster family so he could buy alcohol from his older homeless ‘friends’. He had hated how it made him feel afterwards, but it had been the only way he had known how to deal with his issues. At some point he had even had suicidal thoughts because the guilt and trauma from his childhood got so bad he woke up covered in sweat after the same old fire filled nightmare almost every night. And going from foster home to foster home and feeling like none of those people cared what he really did with his life definitely didn’t help him regain his feeling of self worth. He had no future, no plans, no real friends or family and nowhere to go.

Luckily, during his worst phase in his last foster home someone from his homeless group mentioned having a relative in Indiana and that he was hoping to move there at some point in hopes of getting a new start for his life. That idea sparked something in Leo’s mind and when he started planning his big escape, Indianapolis was the first place that he thought of.

When he finally met Jo and Emmie, he was surprised. Seeing them spending time with their then 5-year-old adoptive daughter, he could tell that these women genuinely cared about the little girl and did everything for her wellbeing. Not only that, Jo was a mechanic just like Leo’s real mother and they had also other things in common. With some patience and showing that they cared, simply by making sure that Leo ate, rested and had something to do with his time other than dwelling on his sad past, they eventually won him over. And when Leo discovered thanks to Jo’s help that he himself had the skills to become a mechanic someday as well, he finally had a goal to reach and studying wasn’t quite as big a struggle for him anymore.

Soon, however, Leo became afraid that Jo and Emmie wouldn’t want to keep him around because he still had some bad days when he literally had to be dragged from his bed. He was also worried that maybe the women had heard what he had done in his past and were silently judging him. Instead, they surprised him by telling him that they wanted to officially adopt him much like Georgina because he was a part of their family now. As an added bonus they assigned him for therapy sessions, which really helped and the days when he didn’t want to do anything became less and less. Leo knew he was still a work in progress but this family had helped him so much and he had found his purpose, his home, at Waystation.

Calypso had naturally noticed Leo’s silence so eventually she asked:

“Are you OK? You’re being unusually quiet.”

“Oh, yeah, just dandy!” Leo exclaimed, trying to act more like his usual self. “I was just thinking about the times when I first moved in here.”

“Really? Do you want to tell me more about that?” Calypso asked curiously.

“I guess it won’t hurt.” Leo shrugged. “I don’t remember if I’ve told you that I was in a lot of foster homes before I got here. Well, my last foster parents were really shitty people and I was this close to… I dunno, doing something desperate. So I decided to just leave and ended up here in Indianapolis. I, um, was homeless for a bit but when the social workers got me into their hands they found me a new family, Jo and Emmie. At first they were supposed to only foster me for a time being but they ended up adopting me instead. I… haven’t told this to anyone, but they probably saved my life by doing that. The Leo from that time was far from the Super-Sized McSizzle that I am now,” he attempted to joke, but Calypso ignored that. Instead, she said:

“I’m sorry you had to go through that… but I’m glad you opened up about it to me.” Leo’s heart did an extra jump when he saw Calypso smiling at him supportingly. He would never get used to that. “And I’m glad Jo and Emmie adopted you.”

“Yeah, me too… When I first saw the place I was like, ‘wow, I wish I could stay here’. Obviously the people here are awesome - they are my family - but that wasn’t the only thing the 15-year-old me cared about. The cars and other machines Jo was fixing? So cool. I had only seen something like that at my childhood home and the nostalgia hit me like ‘boom’ right away.”

“I should have known it was the machines that convinced you to stay here,” Calypso teased, but Leo knew her already too well to get provoked by that.

“Nah. I mean, they’re neat and all, but Jo and Emmie did the actual convincing.”

“Okay, I believe you. So, was Jo’s garage what made you want to become a mechanical engineer?” Calypso asked.

“I guess the spark was always there but it took me a while to convince myself that I should try to pursue that goal. But when I started going to school again regularly – long story, don’t ask – I noticed that the sciences were easy for me, I was also decent enough at drawing – which of course helps with the blueprints and stuff – and Jo let me try fixing some of the simpler machines she had and turned out I wasn’t half bad. It was Jo and Emmie who kept pushing me to apply for the uni, though, because they believed in me more than I did. I’m thankful that they did it but… sometimes I still doubt...” Leo hadn’t talked about his insecurities even to his adoptive mothers so he felt that the fact that he was able to open up about it to Calypso was a big deal.

“I’ve seen you fix countless items,” Calypso said slowly. “I’ve noticed that you’re always… so different when you’re fiddling with your machines. More relaxed. Calmer. Surer of what you do. And your eyes sparkle and you hum some old school rock song while you work and I can just tell that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Leo had to avert his eyes from her because he was afraid he would do something stupid like cry if he looked at her too long in that moment. No matter how encouraging his family, friends and the therapist were… it was still hard to get used to the compliments. And if he was honest to himself, he probably valued Calypso’s opinion more than anyone else’s at that point.

“Wow… umm… I don’t know how to answer that…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“A simple thank you would probably do,” Calypso replied. “But know that I mean what I say. Now, how about you show me that famous garage?”

Leo did as he was told. He introduced Calypso to all the tools and machinery they used to fix whatever item the customer happened to bring in. He had a feeling that Calypso probably didn’t have any idea what he was talking about half the time because he tended to get very technical with the terms when he got excited, but she still seemed content listening to him. At least she wasn’t telling him to stop, which was definitely a plus.

To Leo’s surprise, Calypso went to the table where he and Jo used to draw their blueprints and asked him if she could see how he did it because she hadn’t seen his blueprints before. He complied, taking a pencil and a piece of blank paper from the stack and looking at Calypso questioningly.

“What do you want me to draw, then? I may have some experience on this but even I need some ideas first…”

“You can draw whatever you like. How about Festus?” Calypso requested.

“Festus?” Leo tapped the pencil against his chin for a moment, considering Calypso’s request. “Hmm, as you wish, Sunshine.”

He started making fast, swift motions on the paper and it didn’t take him very long to finish the sketch. Sure, the lines were a bit rough, but Calypso told him she was very impressed by how accurately he remembered even the little details, such as a dark spot on Festus’ back, how the tail curved when he was happy, and how he was missing a tiny piece of the tip of his left ear.

Leo felt a bit embarrassed by the praise. “It just comes with me hanging out with him so much. Nothing more to it, really.” He looked at the sketch for a moment. “Hold on, I feel like this is missing something. Can you look towards that window for a moment?”

“What, why?” Calypso asked, but turned anyway.

“Just adding something real quick,” Leo replied and started sketching again. He wondered if it was the lighting of the room but he thought Calypso’s cheeks seemed a bit darker than usual and she kept looking at the floor shyly. When he realized that he’d probably feel the same way if she was drawing him, he himself got flustered and decided to try to finish the drawing as quickly as possible. Within minutes he had drawn her next to Festus, playing with him, wearing the same holiday sweater and jeans she currently was.

“Can I see?” Calypso asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Leo gave the picture to her. “It’s not detailed or anything but I tried.”

Calypso kept staring at it for a moment. “Leo… this looks great! I mean, I don’t think I am that pretty but I am quite amazed that you managed to do this that fast!”

Leo wanted to say that there was no way the picture did her justice but he knew that would be a never ending debate so instead he told her: “It’s the experience, Sunshine. When you draw hundreds of blueprints you learn to be fast.”

Calypso turned her attention to the drawing again. “Can I get it?” she asked after a while.

“Why?”

“Because Festus looks cute, you weirdo. That’s a good enough reason, right?”

“Fine, you can have it. I’m not sure where I’d put it anyway.” Leo shrugged. He wasn’t sure why Calypso possibly hanging the picture on her wall made him feel a bit weird. In a good way, though.

Once the two of them left the garage, Leo pointed at a smaller building next to the ‘main’ one. A couple of pointy ears were peeking from the upstairs windows. “That’s where our foster animals live. I think the kid me wished on some level that I could have a pet but my mom could never afford one… but Jo and Emmie have been fostering rescue cats and dogs even before I got here. One of them was Festus’ mum; she was pregnant when she arrived here. When she had her puppies, I noticed that one of them was a bit of an outsider and we instantly formed a bond. Jo and Emmie allowed him to stay here even though he sure would have had adopters.”

“That was really sweet of them,” Calypso commented. “Can we see who’s in there right now?”

“Sure but we should probably let Emmie know about it because she’s pretty strict about who can go in. She may ask us to wear ‘bunny suits’; some of the animals may be sick and we don’t wanna spread the bugs around.”

“No problem, let’s go see her then.”

When Emmie heard what Leo and Calypso were about to do, she promised to stop her Christmas chores for a while so she could show them (mainly Calypso) around in the rescue house. Currently she was fostering two young puppies who had been found on the streets without their mother, a mother cat with her 4 kittens who were getting close to their adoption age, and an older cat with some kidney issues who seemed to however adore the little kittens.

Leo was watching Calypso’s reactions closely as Emmie was introducing her to the kittens. Soon one of the braver kittens climbed on the girl’s lap, giving her a tiny ‘meow’ and then started nuzzling against her sleeve.

“Aww, look Leo! He loves me,” Calypso exclaimed, smiling widely as the kitten started purring loudly on her lap while she pet him. ‘He’s not the only one,’ Leo thought in his mind. Aloud he asked: “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I guess because I’ve never really handled cats so I didn’t know how they’d react to me…” Calypso noted more seriously. But then the happiness returned to her face. “You know, this one reminds me of you! He also has long, black hair like you and fierce eyes.”

“Fierce?” Leo raised his eyebrow. “That’s what you think of me?”

Calypso seemed to want to explain but with Emmie in the room she didn’t go to details. “Um, maybe? Hey, look! Another one is coming!”

This time a small ginger kitten was approaching her and Calypso extended her arm so the kitten could sniff her. The group kept making small talk about the cats in the room and continued snuggling them, but Leo’s eyes were on Calypso the whole time. He could see how happy she was about such a simple thing as kittens and it made him feel lighter, warmer again, even though he had just remembered some very bad times a few moments earlier. Maybe all of it had been meant to happen, he wondered briefly. After all, it led him here, to his family… and Calypso.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

[mmazzeroo]

Chapter 15 - NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

@helloimnotawesome - Chapter 15 updated. I’m SO sorry for the long wait. Thought I forgot about you, didn’t you ;) Well....finally there’s a new update for you as well as a new mood board :) Enjoy, my friend! <3 

EDIT: Posted this earlier with the mood board but it got flagged!!! Stupid Dumblr, so while waiting the staff to realise their mistake here’s a repost and you’ll have to go AO3 to see the mood board. Sorry about that sweetie <3

NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

"In a heartbeat, Dr. Stark!"

"Thank you so much, Sam," the boy is still so formal, "and Sam?"

"Yes, Dr. Stark?"

"Call me Ned, please." He smiled to himself.

"Ah right, yes, of course Dr. Stark...Sorry! Ned..." He could practically hear Sam blushing over the phone.

"Good! Now, once again thank you for helping with this, Sam."

"My pleasure, Dr. S..Ned."

Again, he chuckled at Sam's overly politeness. "Won't take more of your time. See you in a couple of weeks," not waiting for Sam's answer he hung up the phone. Crossing the big field of grass behind Dragonstone castle, he walked over to his wife and Rhaella currently busy cooing over his grandchildren who were rolling around on a blanket placed on the grass in the shadow of a beautiful old tree.

"Just spoke to Sam - it's all set."

"Wonderful, honey! He's going to be so surprised!" His wife was beaming up at him.

"Hopefully only in a positive way. I don't exactly have a good track-record when it comes to surprising my eldest son." He sighed as he looked around searching for the man in question.

"Oh stop it!" Rhaella grabbed his arm and pulled him down to sit between her and Catelyn. "He'll be so excited I bet he'll go speechless. You didn't see his sad puppy face when he was on the phone with Robb that day and had to tell him no. He looked like he thought he'd be ruining his brother's big day because of it. We didn't see him again until nightfall."

"He was always an emotional boy, Ned. Considering what he's lived through it's remarkable he's still able to be this empathetic." Catelyn gently stroked him down his cheek and kissed him. "Jon has a good heart. Been put back together with countless stitches yes, but at it's core still true and pure. He'll be over the moon when he sees what you and Robb has arranged."

He couldn't help smile at his wife's wise words. My sweet gentle sons. Trying to catch up on the time they lost together. "You're of course right - both of you." He quickly smiled at both women sitting on either side of him. "Instead of worrying I'll look forward to seeing some joy on my son's face." Joy! Wouldn't that be a sight!

"That's the spirit!" Rhaella gave him a big smile and light-heartedly nudged his shoulder with her own. "Now, not that I didn't know already, but I must say Robb has made a fabulous choice for his future wife." She nodded her head slightly to the riders further down the field.

Margaery and Sansa where on each their horse accompanying little Rhaenys on her pony between them. Rhaenys was in awe of both. Earlier in the day they had been sitting in the grass braiding each other's hair, adding flowers to the braids and even making garlands that they'd been wearing like crowns. He had to admit he found it adorable how the two took the time for Rhaenys and indulged her. Arya, on the other hand had rolled her eyes, pretending to gag and walked away. Oh how he loved his two girls. So different yet so similar. Just don't tell them that! They had the same fierce spirit, though when it came to expressing said spirit they'd chosen different ends of the spectre. Arya was, for the most part, hit first ask later. Sansa, on the other hand, would take the hits yet refuse to give in. My wild wolf and quiet wolf. Interestingly, he'd noticed a change in both over the past 5-6 months that Jon had been here at Dragonstone and everyone had made sure to make frequent visits whenever schedules allowed. The only one flying in a few times a week was Viserys for his therapy sessions with Jon. Arya was gradually beginning to show signs of something he could've sworn was a foreign concept to her - patience. Who would've ever thought! And Sansa, oh Sansa! She was slowly coming out of her shell, walking and talking with a little more confidence every day, and she was biting back. When Catelyn had told him that Sansa had suggested wearing a sleeveless dress as a bridesmaid, if Margaery agreed, his eyes had overflowed with tears. His shy, broken girl wanting to proudly put her scars on display like that to the world made his heart melt with pride and fatherly love. If I ever get my hands on Joffrey or Ramsey I'll smother them with my own bare hands!! Margaery, of course, had happily and eagerly agreed, knowing what a huge step this was for Sansa.

He couldn't help wonder what it was that caused all these changes. Has Jon returning helped fill a void we each had in our hearts? Is our individual healing contributing to us heal as a family? Have we all found our 'missing piece' in our lives and souls? Or are my girls just growing and maturing at their own natural pace? No, it was all connected to Jon one way or another. By his attempts to reconnect with his siblings and family for his own healing he was helping them with theirs as well. He knew Jon didn't necessarily do this knowingly. After all, the young man was simply trying to regain what he thought he'd lost. However, when he saw anyone in need of help - in anything - he immediately jumped in to provide any assistance he could. He'd always done that even as a little boy. Jon didn't want to see anyone in pain or suffering for any reason. Once again he was taken aback by his son's willingness to help others even if it meant at the expense of his own health. He had done so for years as a member of the Night's Watch, and it became even more ironic when taking into account Jon's blood type. O negative, also known as the universal giver because all other blood types could receive it without trouble - Jon however if given any blood type other than his own would die. It was as if the Gods had forged him to endure heartbreak, pain and suffering for the sake of others, to shield others, to help and save others. What was it Jon had said a few months ago? 'The same hammer that breaks glass forges steel'. That's it! Jon is teaching Sansa that she's steel while all this time she thought of herself as glass! Except he's hitting her with buckets of love. Ha! Jon you brilliant man! He made a mental note to go properly thank the gods when he returned to Winterfell before the wedding. Gods, the wedding! For a minute there he'd completely forgotten everything about it.  

He was happy for Robb and Margaery, but at the same time he couldn't understand his little boy had grown up so fast. Oh Ned, you sentimental old fool. Every parent thinks that. He shook his head slightly. In just a few weeks his son and heir to the title of Lord of Winterfell would be marrying the granddaughter of President Olenna Tyrell. It was quite a match and the media and the public loved it! The media! Damnit! Another thing we need to try to prepare Jon for.

Just after New Year's the Starks and Targaryens had sent out a joint press release informing the public of the miraculous return of Jonathan Dayne, heir to Starfall and the son of Eddard Stark and late Ashara Dayne. The families asked to kindly give Jon and his family time and space to recover from the shock, and any press inquiries could be directed to Mr. Tyrion Lannister. Shortly after the President had made a public statement that the Starks were collaborating closely with the authorities, and that further investigations into the events of the years since Captain Dayne's kidnapping and the people involved were already under way, and how she was hoping to hear about more families being united despite all the time passed. The public had responded overwhelmingly positive and sympathy messages online and offline had poured in. Especially messages from Dorne and the city of Starfall was filled with excitement of how they'd welcome him back home with open arms. Luckily, Jon and the cinnabons, thank you for that nickname Arya, had managed to remain sheltered on Dragonstone for the past almost 6 months. Now though it was time for him to step out into the limelight and take his 'rightful' place in the media as the Lord of Starfall. Viserys had assured him that Jon was ready for the circus and that he'd be alright surrounded by family. At least he'll have Dany by his side as well.

"Speaking of future spouses," his wife interrupted his busy mind, "your daughter has made a wise choice herself, if I may say so."

"Indeed! She's had a few trial and errors, but I have a good feeling about this new man in her life." In a mirthful tone Rhaella continued, "I have on good authority that he's from a reputable family, and he's even a war hero!"

"Oh my! What a catch!" Catelyn played along with Rhaella's joking tone and comically pretended to be fanning herself. "But is he handsome? No fun in bagging a man if he's looking like an oaf!"

"Believe me my friend when I tell you he's the prettiest in all the lands!"

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Giggling like school girls!! Gods!

Catelyn wrapped her arm around his waist. "Oh c'mon, Ned, have a laugh!"

"Not as long as you call any son of mine 'pretty'!" He said feigning offence.

"But it's the truth, dear Neddy!" Really don't like it when she calls me that. "Next month at Margaery and Robb's wedding there'll be swooning left and right over all of your sons, but in particularly your eldest. Oh Cat, can you imagine how dashing he'll look in his uniform?! I might even swoon!"

All three of them laughed out loud at that image. Rhaella herself so much she had her head leaned back and holding on to him to keep from toppling over.

They all sat quiet for a bit trying to catch their breath again.

"On a serious note though, I do have a good feeling about those two. They are clearly good for each other, and in due time I expect it to naturally end in vows as well." Rhaella stretched her arms and tickled little Adei and Amador on their little chubby baby stomachs and the air was instantly filled with delighted baby giggles. "They are both mature enough to understand that this is something that needs to be done slowly. It warms my old heart to see them take their time to get to know each other and enjoy each other and not rush in like headless chickens." She turned her head a gave him and Catelyn a warm smile.

"They grow up so fast don't they?" His wife was looking at the babies with a wistful look in her eyes. "Oh by the way before I forget, Margaery and I have managed to colour coordinate Dany's maid-of-honour dress to the colours on Jon's uniform. Wasn't easy as the blue and red doesn't exactly go with the colour scheme of the wedding, but we made it work." She flashed a satisfied smile before adding, "with a little help from Sansa as well."

"And what did my daughter say to the changes?" Rhaella had an amused look on her face as if fighting to hold back a laugh.

"She doesn't know. We didn't want her to keep secrets from Jon. Not telling how the bride and her maids will be dressed is one thing, but in this case the reason why would be a big secret."

"Thank you!" He leaned in and give his wife a tender kiss on her temple. She clearly understands how sensitive Jon is about secrets. Gods I love her!

"When she questioned it, Sansa told her that all the Starks were colour matched with the bride as a way of symbolically welcoming her to the pack. Dany of course still looked a bit sceptical." She chuckled at the memory. "So Margaery simply told her it was a bride's prerogative to change her mind."

"Of course!" Rhaelle chimed in clearly amused at the story.

"So that means she'll be as surprised when she sees him as he will seeing her?" He was a little puzzled.

She chuckled. "Yes. She's just expecting him to show up in the traditional morning suit."

"Oh, we better be ready to catch two pairs of young lovers when they see each other that day then!" Once again Rhaella and his wife were giggling like school girls. Once again he caught himself rolling his eyes at them.

Catelyn cheerfully slapped him on his arm. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, Ned." Actually I wasn't. "Jon won't even notice the bride walking right behind Dany, nor will Robb notice anyone in front of Margaery!" Again he was surrounded by contagious laughing and he willingly joined in. Gods, she's right!

"I take it Arya enjoyed joining the boys for her first tailor-made suit?"

"Immensely! Although she did find the whole 'having to stand still'-part very tedious." Both women joined in his laughter.

"Well my dear, she is our wild wolf after all." There was so much love in Catelyn's eyes and voice when she said it that he had to kiss her.

Pulling back he looked in his wife's beautiful blue eyes and said, "that she is."

Rhaella cleared her throat as she with an innocent voice said, "want me to leave?"

"Oh stop it, Ella! You're just jealous." Catelyn teased back

"I am actually but that wasn't my point." Laughingly Rhaella wrapped little sleeping Adei in a blanket and stood up.

Catelyn wrapped up Amador, still looking curiously around. As she stood up she placed the little boy in his arms and she packed up the big blanket they'd been sitting on.

"Should I be concerned though," he caught the two women's curious look now, "that our little wild wolf will throw a fit because she won't fit with her new favourite brother now?"

Catelyn and Rhaella shared a look he couldn't quite decipher though there was a hit of worry there.

"Well...," his wife looped her arm with his, "what colour tie and waistcoat will she be wearing?"

"All groomsmen have grey waistcoats and colour of tie is set to match the bridesmaid. Being Arya she of course chose a gold coloured tie, and though her and Bran have switched places I don't think you'll get her to change the colour of her tie. Sorry ladies."

"Oh no, gold should fit well with the golden pieces on Jon's uniform so we should be in the clear. Thank the gods!" His wife huffed out a sigh of relief and Rhaella was just chuckling next to them.

As they were crossing over to where the boys had made camp Catelyn suddenly stopped by his side, pointed and laughed. "How much wood did you tell them to use, Ned? That's big a campfire!"

#helloimnotawesome #heartstrings #jonerys modern au #jonerys fanfic

[imagine-loki]

Abandoned

Title- Abandoned

Chapter/One-shot- Part 8

Author- starrynight35/starrynightfantasies

Original Imagine Imagine Loki witness a person abandoning a pet, he pays little heed at first, humans, of course, are fickle creatures, but on hearing the human use words like “runt” and “worthless” something in him stirs. Looking into the box human has dumped the animal in, he realises it is a small black furball.

Rating- G

Notes/Warnings- F- bombs, the usual :) Notes/Warnings: Language, A few F-bombs

You can read it on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12152160/chapters/29338554

Loki cut his eyes over at Bucky, and Bucky could see that Loki had switched moods. He had gone from laughing about being one of Fennie’s ‘daddys’ to really pissed in about 2.3 seconds.

“Hold her.” Loki gently pushed Fennie toward him, and Bucky did as he was told.

Suddenly, Loki’s hands were wrapped around Tony’s throat, and Bucky didn’t know what to do. He wanted to stop him, but there was nothing he could do with the tiny kitten in his arms.

“So  help  me, Stark you had better not be fucking with me right now,” Loki said through gritted teeth.

“Loki, stop,” Bucky pleaded. “I don’t think he’s doing this to screw with you, man. And even if he is…it’s not worth it. Think of Fennie.”

“I’m…not fucking with you,” Tony choked. “I think I found…Jorm…Jormu…just let me go and…I’ll tell you.”

Loki was infuriated. He couldn’t believe his own ears. How  did  Tony  even  know Jörmungandr’s name?

Loki wanted to strangle the metal man. He wanted to choke the life out of him just for allowing his son’s name to pass through his mind. How dare he? How dare he even mention Jor’s name? Loki thought the mortal would have learned his lesson after making that tasteless comment about Fennie, but evidently he had far less sense than even he could have predicted.

His hands tightened on Stark’s throat as he considered the idea that the man was actually trying to prank him. Had Steve told him about their conversation at Petsmart? Had Bucky? Loki allowed his eyes to slide toward the soldier for a moment. The look on Bucky’s face told him that he knew nothing of this. Steve. Loki gritted his teeth as he felt Stark’s feeble attempts to shift underneath his hands.

“Loki…please, just let him go. He’ll never let us go to Petsmart again,” Bucky whispered.

Loki felt his fingers give way; heard Tony gasp for air, and immediately moved away from him.

For a moment, Loki’s knees felt as if they would give out. He didn’t trust himself to move, so he simply stood there staring at his feet.

“How do you even know his name? Who told you?” Loki muttered.

“While you were gone, I asked Steve for help. I didn’t want to get your hopes up if I couldn’t actually do anything, but after some extensive searching and illegal hacking, I found information that might help.”

Tony took a deep breath. He had known Loki wouldn’t react like a normal person, but he didn’t realize he would be in a life threatening position. However, he could understand where Loki was coming from after the way he had treated the god in the past. Tony absolutely would  have fucked with him about his kids had he known about them when Loki had first moved into the tower. In that moment, he was glad he hadn’t known. He would probably be dead.

Loki finally looked up, and Tony saw that his eyes were slightly glassy. He reached over to take Fennie from Bucky’s arms, running his long fingers over her back. She stretched and yawned, and Loki blinked a few times. It seemed Banner had been right; Fennie was like a therapy animal for Loki.

“Stark, you do realize that my son is not…a mortal child, right?”

Bucky was nervously glancing from one man to the other, wondering how long it would be before he had to break up a fight. He resisted the urge to snort when Tony replied.

“You mean, he’s a god, like you?”

Loki closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose. “Go do some more research, Stark. When your feeble brain finally grasps what I mean, come tell me if you’ve really found my son.”

Bucky wasn’t surprised when Loki stalked to his room and slammed the door behind him. He made no attempt to follow his friend, even though he wanted to. Loki obviously needed to be alone for a few moments.

“Tony, what did you find? Do you really think it might be Loki’s son?”

Bucky rarely spoke to Stark. Their relationship was unsteady to say the very least. Stark didn’t trust him, and Bucky knew it. That made speaking with the guy really uncomfortable, even though Bucky tried to be civil with everyone in the tower.

It was difficult when every threat; every new blip on the radar just might be Hydra, and everyone thought he might have something to do with it. Bucky hadn’t had any contact with Hydra in a very long time, but he was tainted. He would never be able to shake the reputation he had gained as a Hydra assassin, and he hadn’t even wanted that. He’d never even known it was happening to him.

Tony rubbed his face angrily. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. What did he mean? How is Jorm- Jor- whatever his name is- different than other kids? If he’s not a god,” Tony said the word with obvious disdain, “then what?”

Bucky glanced toward Loki’s closed door. He didn’t want to say anything because Loki should have told Stark himself. Then again, if Tony thought Jörmungandr was just some regular dude, this situation was going to go downhill very fast.

“Steve knows. Go ask him. If he thinks it’s okay to tell you, he will.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fuck.”

Loki sat on the edge of his bed holding Fennie as close as she would allow. He needed her warmth next to his body. He could feel her quick breaths and her tiny fluttering heartbeat in his hands, and it comforted him more than he ever thought possible.

He felt guilty for getting so angry with Stark, but he couldn’t help thinking the metal man had been playing a cruel joke on him. Now, he was almost certain Tony wasn’t pranking him, but Loki knew there was no way he would find Jor. Odin had cast Jor out of Asgard decades ago, and no amount of Midgardian internet searches would be able to locate him. It was a lost cause.

Fennie wriggled in his hands, and he loosened his grasp on her. Her bright eyes focused on his face, and he imagined that she understood his pain.

Tony caught Steve in the middle of watching The  Wizard  of  Oz- again. He never understood Cap’s fascination with the movie, but then again, he hadn’t lived through that era either.

“Steve, I need some more information,” Stark said, sitting down next to the soldier.

“Hold on…this is the good part,” Steve gestured to the television.

Evidently, the 'good part’ was when Dorothy walked into the world of color for the first time. Tony thought there might be some kind of metaphor for Steve’s life there, but for the life of him he just couldn’t think of it at the moment.

“Alright, shoot.” Steve faced him.

“Well, I just talked with Loki. He tried to kill me. Would you like to explain exactly how his kid is different from any random person on the street? Apparently, that’s important.”

Steve burst into a fit of laughter that surprised Tony. He hadn’t seen Cap laugh that hard in ages. Not since Bucky got his metal arm stuck in an elevator at Macy’s trying to wave at a pretty girl who worked in the men’s department.

“Oh, he’s different alright. Tony, Jörmungandr is a giant serpent,” Steve gasped.

No. Tony didn’t believe that. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Come on, Steve. I’m not that gullible. Loki put you up to this. There is no  way he has a horse child and a serpent child. No fucking way.”

“Actually, he does. Then there is the giant wolf, Fenrir. That’s where Fennie got her name.”

Both men turned to see Thor standing in the doorway looking amused.

Tony’s eyes bulged from their sockets before he recovered. “Well damn. I guess my lead in New Mexico wasn’t really a lead at all. It’s a good thing we didn’t take the jet out there to meet him. He’s probably just some gamer whose screen name is Jormu- Jorm- whatever the fuck his name is.”

Thor cocked his head to the side, staring at Tony for a moment.

“Wait. Are you actually searching for Jörmungandr?”

“Yeah, but I’m at a dead end now. I mean, where the hell am I going to find a giant serpent in the database?”

Tony had really wanted to help Loki out. Even though he was still mad as hell about his taking-over-the-world shenanigans, Tony thought everyone should be able to communicate with their kids. Even Loki. He almost understood why the guy brooded all the time.

“I know where he is,” Thor muttered, stopping Tony’s train of thought in its tracks.

“What?” Both Steve and Tony yelled at once.

Thor laughed. “Sure. He’s in some lake… in a place I believe you mortals call the Land of Scot, or something like that. Every once in a while he breaks the surface and scares the hell out of some tourists before diving back down. Then it seems no one spots him again for another ten years or so. I think he does that on purpose. He is a lot like his father; always full of mischief.”

Stark shook his head in amazement. “Are you talking about the fucking Loch  Ness  Monster?”

Thor’s face lit up. “Yes! That’s it. Where exactly is that again? Father keeps watch over that part of Midgard to make sure Jor doesn’t escape.”

#Loki #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 8 #abandoned #Starrynight35 #person #abandon #pet #fickle #words #runt #worthless #box #black furball

[winterbaby89]

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke - Chapter Two

A Captain Swan, Season 1 Canon Divergence Collaboration by: @hollyethecurious, and @winterbaby89 

Beta’d by: @ilovemesomekillianjones

Amazing Artwork by: @xhookswenchx

Rated M for language and dark themes (and maybe (probably) some sexy times… later ;o)

Summary: Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Twenty-eight years later, Killian Jones awakes in Storybrooke expecting just another ordinary day, that is until a number of abnormal occurrences disrupts his otherwise scheduled life. The greatest of which is a new face in town. A young woman by the name of Emma. Emma. What a lovely name…

Disclaimer: Canon dialogue and scenes from various episodes will appear within this fic. To Adam, Eddie, and the OUAT writers goes all the credit.

Line breaks indicate change in POV or Scene.

Also available on ao3, my fic page, and Hollye′s fic page And if you want to catch up on the last chapter. 

This work is no longer available on FF.net. Unfortunately the site does not allow authors to co-publish collaborative works.

Chapter Two

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Hands. Plural. As in, he had two of them again. How?

Was it a side effect of Regina’s curse or from his being...

The Dark One.

The bloody Dark One.

I’m the bloody Dark One!

It had all come back in a rush. Fast and sporadic flashes of memories - his memories - that told the story of his long life. A life that spanned centuries, and yet the truth of it had hit him in an instant. The truth of who he truly was.

Killian Jones.

Orphan.

Slave.

Lieutenant.

Pirate.

Captain Hook.

Dark One.

Killian shuddered at that final memory, and then panic seized him once again. He spun around surveying the room, expecting the Crocodile to manifest himself at any moment with his mocking and jeering. But he hadn’t appeared. Not in the bar. Not on the long walk home. Not even now as Killian paced the length of his manor.

Why?

‘This new realm is a land without magic’, he remembered suddenly. Regina’s words, just before she’d solicited him to kill her mother, echoing in his ear.

A Land Without Magic.

‘Where The Dark One will be stripped of his power.’

For the first time in what seemed like hours Killian took a deep, steadying breath. The Dark One had no power in this land. He had no power in this land. Even still, Killian could feel the rage, the anguish, and the all encompassing darkness he’d felt in that clearing. The memory of their collective presence haunting him more severely than any of his other demons ever had.

And even if they now lay dormant within him, it didn’t change one other fact… he was still Captain Hook. A villain in his own right. A scourge and a scoundrel out for only one thing. Revenge.

Killian pressed his fingers onto the now vacant space on his forearm. Milah.

Revenge had been his, but at what cost?

He’d become the very thing he hated the most. The very thing she hated most. Rumplestiltskin may not have been The Dark One when they’d been together, but Killian had seen it in her eyes when he’d told her of his run in with her husband turned Dark One on the docks; the loathing at what he’d become coursing through her.

For centuries Killian had justified his own depravity and darkness because it was all in pursuit of avenging her. He believed that she’d understand, would offer him absolution for his actions because the ends would justify the means. But now…

Now all he felt was shame. Shame at what he’d become, and thankful to all the gods that she had not lived to see how far he’d fallen in his quest for vengeance. And not just Milah, but Liam as well.

Liam.

Killian clasped at the chain hanging from his neck, but knew it would not hold what he sought. Liam’s ring. What had become of it? What had become of all his possessions? His hook, his coat, his sword, his…

Dagger.

The Dark One dagger.

It had been in his hand when the curse hit, and even though he knew it no longer had the power to control him (at least, that is, as long as Regina’s curse and the lack of magic in this land kept The Dark Ones at bay) he in no way wanted it in anyone else’s possession other than his own.

Killian tore the manor apart in his search, upending rooms he had no memory of ever even entering before. Memories of his cursed life interspersed with his real life. Bloody hell, leave it to Regina to over complicate matters. As if three hundred years of his own memories weren’t enough for his mind to contend with, now he had twenty-eight years of practically the same day recurring over and over again in his head. The only detail making the days distinct from one another was Henry.

Henry. He knew.

The lad knew about the curse. He’d mentioned it before, his suspicions that the stories in the book his teacher had given him were true. Killian had recognized it as a coping mechanism, a way for the lad to try and escape the reality of his unhappy life. A way to ground himself to something more hopeful.

Killian now understood why Henry Mills had come to mean so much to him. He was a lost boy, just like Killian.

On some level Killian had recognized that trait in Henry, even as he had forgotten his true self. It’s probably what had prompted him to suggest that the boy seek out information about his birth parents in the first place. Of course, he never considered that Henry would actually run off in search of the woman who’d given birth to him. But seek her out, the lad had, and her presence in Storybrooke had already begun to change things.

The mystery of why her name broke the spell he had been under notwithstanding, Killian knew he’d only just scratched the surface of the intrigue Emma Swan possessed. But he couldn’t focus on that now. On her. He had a dagger to find and a secret to keep.

As Emma dressed the next morning, and thought about stopping at the diner for breakfast, she heard a knock on the door. Answering it revealed Regina with a basket of apples in hand, and a fake smile plastered on her face. Great, I have to deal with her crap before I’ve even had the chance to drink my first cup of coffee? Just great. Before Emma could manage a polite hello, Regina thrust an apple toward her and started in on some random spiel.

“Did you know the honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hardy of all apple trees? It can survive temperatures as low as 40 below and keep growing. It can weather any storm. I have one that I've tended to since I was a little girl, and to this day I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers.”

“Thanks,” Emma responded dubiously as she took the proffered apple Regina extended to her, still clutching her cup in her right hand.

“I'm sure you'll enjoy them on your drive home.” Regina tried to hand over the full basket of apples, but Emma took a half step backward, refusing to reach out for it.

“Actually, I'm gonna stay for a while.”

A brief flicker of anger and agitation crossed Regina’s face at Emma’s declaration and refusal before she schooled her features into a mask of pleasant nonchalance. “I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Henry has enough issues. He doesn't need you confusing him.”

“All due respect, Madam Mayor, the fact that you have now threatened me twice in the last twelve hours makes me want to stay more.”

“Since when were apples a threat?”

“I can read between the lines. Sorry. I just want to make sure Henry's okay.”

“He's fine, dear. Any problems he has are being taken care of.”

A concern for Henry’s well being swelled within her chest at Regina’s words, prompting her to ask, “What does that mean?”

“It means I have him in therapy. It's all under control. Take my advice, Ms. Swan, only one of us knows what's best for Henry.”

That’s right, Emma thought. She remembered meeting Henry’s therapist the other night when she brought him back to Storybrooke, he was the kind man that had given her directions to Regina’s place. She remembered as a sense of relief flooded through her that Regina wasn’t referring to something more sinister. Great I’m starting to think like Henry, she’s not the Evil Queen, just a concerned parent, most likely a bad parent, but concerned nonetheless.

“Yeah, I'm starting to think you're right about that.” Emma didn’t miss the glare Regina sent her way at that comment.

“It's time for you to go.”

“Or what?” Emma challenged.

“Don't underestimate me, Ms. Swan. You have no idea what I'm capable of.” Considering that the end of the disturbing conversation, Emma shut the door without another word to Regina, and locked it before going back to getting ready for the day.

Thirty minutes later, Emma found herself perched at the counter in Granny’s diner. Perusing the menu, she debated what to order, when Ruby set down a hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream in front of her.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t order that.”

“Yeah, I know. You have an admirer.” At that comment, Emma turned and tried to tamp down the hope that it might be from a certain blue eyed gentleman who had haunted her dreams the night before, only to see Sheriff Humbert. Her disappointment swelled within her as she picked up the cocoa and approached his table, intending to let the poor man down gently.

“Ah, so you decided to stay.”

Was it really that much of a surprise to him? “Observant, important for a cop.”

“It's good news for our tourist business. It's bad for our local signage.” Graham looked a little uncomfortable with the awkward pause as his joke fell flat. “It's... it's a joke. Because you ran over our sign.”

The only immediate response she can muster is to roll her eyes at his terrible attempt at a joke. “Look, the cocoa was a nice gesture, and I am impressed that you guessed that I like cinnamon on my chocolate, 'cause most people don't, but I am not here to flirt, so thank you, but, no thank you.” Gently placing the cup on the table, she considers whether or not she would have accepted it from a different, accented man.

“I didn't send it.”

“I did. I like cinnamon, too.”

Her head shot towards the front table by the window at the sound of Henry’s voice. How did I not see him there earlier? “Don't you have school?”

“Duh. I'm ten. Walk me.”

He’s definitely my kid with that eyeroll. Without so much as another look at the sheriff, Emma placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and began steering him out the door towards the bus stop.

Killian stopped abruptly in the back hallway of the diner as he watched the Swan girl and Henry make their way out of the diner and along the sidewalk that led to the bus stop. He was going to have to come up with some sort of excuse for avoiding Henry, as he was not quite ready to bring himself to lie to the boy by keeping up with his cursed facade in the lad’s presence. For now, he had a more pressing issue at hand; one he hoped the good Sheriff might be able to assist him with.

Killian prided himself on possessing a stealth that served him well in keeping people on their toes, or catching them off guard with his approach, but he’d never been able to get a jump on the Sheriff. The man somehow always knew when Killian, or anyone else, was approaching him, he seemed to have a sixth sense about him. In light of Killian’s regained memories he wondered just who Graham was back in their realm, and what the man would say if he knew that it was the infamous Captain Hook, or The Dark One for that matter, that was making himself welcome in his booth.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones. Something I can assist you with?” the Sheriff questioned, his disdain only slightly veiled in his tone.

“Actually, Sheriff. I’ve come to do my civic duty as a responsible citizen and business owner,” Killian replied as he placed a hand gun on the table between them, causing the Sheriff to tense momentarily before Killian could add, “I found it at the docks. Thought it best to turn it in to the proper authorities.”

The truth was Killian had found it during the search of his home overnight. Guns, knives, legal documents, and all manner of possessions had been uncovered. While not completely inconsistent with his nature, the items weren’t altogether authentic to who he was, cursed or otherwise, either, and no dagger had been found among them. It was only after he’d felt certain that no location within his home had been overlooked that Killian began to consider where within the town he might continue his search.  

The stash of weapons he’d found concealed in various rooms had led him to the idea that the dagger may lay unclaimed within the Sheriff’s station. Not wanting to tip the lawman’s suspicions any further than they would be prone to, Killian had devised the ruse of turning over the firearm in hopes of naturally opening up the opportunity to question Graham about unclaimed blades.

“You found it?” Graham questioned suspiciously.

“Aye.”

“At the docks?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re just turning it in?”

“Would you rather I not?” Killian quipped inquiringly. “Too much paperwork involved, or are you running out of room to store unclaimed weapons at the Sheriff’s station?”

“We don’t have any unclaimed weapons at the station,” Graham admitted, unaware that he’d just provided the pirate with the very information he sought.

Damn! Killian cursed to himself. He’d have to continue his search elsewhere.

“Right. Well, first time for everything I suppose. I’ll leave you to it then, Sheriff.”

Killian exited the booth and took purposeful strides toward the door. He ran through his mental list of potential locations the dagger could be hiding, as he made his way to the sidewalk a flash of blonde curls and red leather caught his eye. He watched Emma make her way through the door that led up to Dr. Hopper’s office, or according to Henry, Jiminy Cricket’s office, and was once again struck by the urgent pull he felt toward the beguiling woman.

Shaking off such fanciful notions he turned himself towards the docks. He had a dagger to find and a day of searching through warehouses, offices, and his beloved Jolly Roger ahead of him.

Emma lounged on her bed at the B&B as she scoured the files that Dr. Hopper had given her about Henry. So far nothing was jumping out at her, but she wasn’t completely sure what she was looking for. She wasn’t a therapist, and until about three days ago she hadn’t considered herself a parent either. Not that she did even now that Henry was in her life.

A sharp knock at the door added to her current disgruntled state. When she found Sheriff Humbert on the other side she couldn’t help the sarcastic greeting that fell from her lips.

“Hey there. If you're concerned about the Do not disturb signs, don't worry, I've left them alone.”

“Actually, I'm here about Dr. Archibald Hopper. He mentioned you got into a bit of a row with him earlier?”

“No,” Emma clipped firmly as she placed her hands on her hips in annoyance.

“I was shocked, too, given your shy, delicate sensibilities,” Graham mocked, earning him an eyeroll. “He says you demanded to see Henry's files and when he refused, you came back and stole them.”

“He gave them to me.”

“Alas, he's telling a different tale. May I check your room, or must I get a search warrant?”

Unbelievable. Emma turned and allowed Graham to enter. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Is this what you're looking for?” she asked, gesturing to the numerous papers scattered across the bed.

“Well, you're very accommodating,” Graham needled as he picked up a few papers before delivering the news Emma had been waiting for, even as she reeled at the outrageousness of it all. “I'm afraid, Ms. Swan, you're under arrest. Again.”

“You know I'm being set up, don't you?” It was more a statement than a question as Graham affixed cuffs to her wrists.

“And who, may I ask, is setting you up?”

Emma continued to proclaim her innocence, casting accusations at Regina all the way from the B&B to the Sheriff Station. She questioned Graham about Regina’s hold and influence on the town even as he booked her.

“Regina may be a touch intimidating, but I don't think she'd go as far as a frame job,” Graham argued.

“How far would she go? What does she have her hands in?”

“Well, she's the Mayor. She has her hands in everything.”

“Including the police force?” Emma accused.

“Hey,” an excited voice echoed from the hallway.

“Henry, what are you doing here?” Graham asked.

“His mother told him what happened,” Mary Margaret supplied, having accompanied Henry to the station from school.

“Of course she did,” Emma exasperated as she stared pointedly at Graham before addressing her son with a bit of trepidation. “Henry, I don't know what she said-”

“You're a genius,” Henry interrupted.

“What?”

“I know what you were up to. You were gathering intel for Operation Cobra,” Henry speculated with hushed excitement.

“I'm sorry. I'm a bit lost,” Graham confessed.

“It's need-to-know, sheriff,” Henry said dismissively, “and all you need to know is that Ms. Blanchard's gonna bail her out.”

“You are? Why?” Emma questioned incredulously.

“I, uh, trust you,” the petite woman stated skittishly.

Looking between Henry’s smug face and Mary Margaret’s quiet understanding Emma felt her need for retribution spike as she turned to Graham with her hands out in front of her.

“Well, if you would uncuff me, I have something to do.”

Killian aimlessly wandered along the streets of Storybrooke, having had no success in locating the dagger. Though, he had uncovered more intriguing items that would require his attention and focus once the bloody damned blade was back in his possession.

He was starting to wonder if the infernal thing had come over in the curse at all. For all he knew, it remained in the Enchanted Forest sealed away in the vault he had emerged from after the Crocodile’s death. The only way Killian could be truly sure was to either keep searching and find the bloody thing or march into the Mayor’s office and ask Her Majesty. The latter option was not one he was willing to entertain, so he continued his trek as he ticked off all the locations he’d already explored.

Not in the manor, not at the Sheriff’s station, no sign of it in any of my usual hiding places within the Jolly. The warehouses and dock offices were a bust as well. Perhaps I should… what is that blasted noise!

The sound of a motor cut through Killian’s internal mutterings as he realized he was just across the street from the Town Hall. His curiosity piqued at the unusual sound, Killian made his way towards the building’s courtyard to investigate, but then quickly had to find a place to tuck himself away as he saw the Evil Queen exit the building.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the mayor exclaimed as she rushed across the courtyard towards the racket that continued to permeate the area.

A racket, that Killian could now see was being caused by the lovely Emma. She was wielding a chainsaw, ruthlessly plundering the Mayor’s prized apple tree as she made a quip about picking apples. Now, more than just Killian’s curiosity was piqued at the sight before him.

“You're out of your mind.”

“No, you are, if you think a shoddy frame job's enough to scare me off.”

Frame job? What else have I missed? Killian wondered.

“You're gonna have to do better than that. You come after me one more time, I'm coming back for the rest of this tree. Because, sister, you have no idea what I'm capable of.”

Killian watched as Swan violently tossed the chainsaw aside and challenged, “Your move,” before stomping away. A fresh appreciation for the tough lass washed over him. So, she and the Queen are at odds, then? Not surprising, he supposed, Regina’s at odds with everyone in this accursed town.

Just as Killian was preparing to extricate himself from the dark cluster of shrubbery he’d hidden away in, Sheriff Humbert pulled up in his police cruiser, no doubt having received a complaint about the noise of the chainsaw. Killian decided to remain tucked away for their exchange. Treasure and priceless commodities came in many forms, none more valuable in his experience than good, old fashioned gossip. Information that one could use against one’s enemies was a prize worth harboring in the bushes for.

Killian patiently listened as Regina expressed her desire to once again have Swan arrested, only to have the Sheriff question the effectiveness of such an action, even as he inferred his suspicions that Emma had, indeed, been set-up for her earlier transgressions.

“I think your schoolboy crush is clouding your judgment,” Regina barbed accusingly at the Sheriff.

The accusation caused a spark of rage to ignite in Killian’s chest, he bit back a growl that threatened to reverberate from within. Taken aback by having such a fierce response to the implication that Graham may harbor feelings for the same woman who had so ensnared him, Killian nearly missed the remainder of their exchange.  

“You want me to arrest her again, I will,” Graham complied.

“Good.”

“But she's gonna keep coming at you, and I know you, you're gonna keep going at her, and you will do whatever it takes to get her out of here and you may succeed-”

“No, I will succeed. He's my son. It's what's best for him.”

Killian could barely contain the scathing retort that burned his throat, knowing now just how manipulative and cruel the woman had been in regards to the boy.

“I know that's what you believe,” Graham stated sympathetically, “but if this escalates, it seems to me the only one who will get hurt is Henry.”

Killian watched as Graham departed, leaving both he and Regina to stew in their thoughts of how the repercussions of Emma’s presence in Storybrooke would ultimately affect the boy. Even with the gut-wrenching realization of his true self, and the knowledge of what lay dormant just beneath his surface, Killian could not bring himself to resent Henry for bringing his birth mother there, and ultimately waking him from his cursed state. She was changing things, and Killian believed that such changes would only benefit Henry. It was apparent, however, that Her Majesty did not share this sentiment.

“There has got to be a way of getting rid of that woman without Henry blaming me,” Regina muttered to herself, as she passed Killian’s hiding spot. “If ever there was a time I needed my powers… wait-”

Killian’s attention sharpened at Regina’s mention of her powers. I thought this was a land without magic?

“Perhaps that little imp had something stashed away. Somehow my curse failed to bring him over, but perhaps there is something in the pawn shop that could be of use.” Regina’s speculations prompted her to abandon her immediate concerns for the mangled tree, and Killian watched as she rushed back into her office building - presumably to grab her purse and keys.

The Crocodile. Regina didn’t realize the truth of just why the curse had failed to deliver Rumplestiltskin to this land. But she believed something useful of his might be hidden away within the abandoned pawn shop?

Killian began to wonder whether or not a certain item he’d been in search of might be located there as well. He was at a disadvantage, seeing as he was on foot and Regina would have her car to get her there ahead of him, so Killian wasted no time in making his way back towards Main Street, hoping against hope that her search would not lead to the dagger before he arrived.

Chapter Three

Tagging some lovelies that have asked to be tagged, as well as some we believe might enjoy. Please let us know if you do, or don’t wish to be tagged.

@abeylin1982 @aprilqueen84 @artistic-writer @ashar663 @captain-k-jones @captain-swan-coffee @downeystarkjr @florenzu @freakassbuthunter @gingerchangeling @golfgirld @greenleaf777 @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @leiaswanjoneskid @like-waves-on-the-beach @rookiehookie @seriouslyhooked @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @yayimallamaagain

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #cursed killian #dark hook #season 1 #cs fanfic #Captain Swan #dark hook comes to storybrooke #winterbaby89writes #words by hollye #cs fan fic #cs fan fiction #captain swan fic #cs #captain swan fanfiction

[neen-writes]

Iron Legends: Reforged -- Chapter 14

Series: Fairy Tail

Characters: Gajeel, Levy, plus appearances from Natsu and Lucy.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Sci-fi

Summary: The old lab had always been fuel for a good story, something you would half-heartedly joke about going to sometime.  Some did, and when they came back they never talked about it again.  The legends circulated, telling of ghosts, monsters, and anything else someone would be likely to conjure up about an abandoned building.  But even with all the stories meant to keep everyone away, there are still those for whom the intrigue is too tempting.  

Read the Reforged chapters on FFnet here, Ao3 here, and read the entire original story here!!  AND find this fic’s soundtrack here!

Ch. 1  Ch. 2  Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch.10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13

Gajeel?

Gajeel where are you?

“Do I have to repeat myself?  I said prepare a space in the infirmary.  I have a subject incoming with an impale wound.”

“A what?!”  A voice, rubbed raw with screams, gasped out.  There was no answer.

Wait…

Was that my voice?

Everything felt so hazy, so detached.  

No, no, he can’t have been impaled.  I don’t remember seeing him being… he was beaten into the dirt.  I saw Rogue do that.  He didn’t do anything else.  I stopped it, I saved him, I--

In her haze, she tried to move, tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t obey her.  Something was moving her, holding her, and instinctively she recoiled from that unknown force.  She regretted it immediately as pain flared through her like wildfire, tethering her further to the world and trying to pull her from her haze.

It hurts!! Oh god it hurts; what is that!?  I can’t see anything, I don’t remember—

Then the images hit her.  All at once, pounding into her brain to the tune of her racing heart.

Standing, arms spread, shielding the broken man.  Pleading for it to stop, and then it hit her.  The spear running her straight through, tearing flesh.  It happened again, and again and again.  Each time it replayed in her thoughts another wave of pain shook her and she opened her mouth to scream, but couldn’t tell if she even made a sound.   She felt her lungs burn, her throat tighten, but only part of her was present.

LEVY!

His voice cut through the fog in a blaze.  That scream--his scream--dug hooks into her pierced shoulder and reeled her blindingly to the present.  Her eyes snapped open with a gasp, coughing from the rawness of her own throat.

Levy was set onto something solid, and she heard a thud next to her, then a slam.  There was pressure put over her, holding her in place, and then everything started to shake.  Was the ground shaking or was she?

She couldn’t tell if she was looking around her or if she was hallucinating.  Everything was a blur, swept by some unknown current before she could latch onto any details.  Where am I?  Where are you taking me?  Please, I want to go home!  I want to see Gajeel!

She could feel a hard pressure wrapping around her shoulder, immediately firing stabbing, burning pain through her.  The pain that made everything tighten and her jaw clench so tight she thought she might crack her teeth.  

Then the pain slowly, terrifyingly, became static.  It was a fuzzy throb at the edge of consciousness and she realized she was slipping away.  The pain had brought devastating weakness and a blackness that chipped away at her consciousness.  Like a hungry beast it took more of her, bit by bit.

Stay awake, stay awake, I need to…

With a roll of her head, the blurs, for just an instant, made out the form of a large black mane. It was gone as quickly as she had recognized it, and so was the pain.  Is this what dying feels like?  She felt nothing, saw nothing, and eventually,

Thought nothing.

“No sir, she has no family that we know of.  She is acquainted with the chief’s son, however.”

Brown eyes opened slowly to the sound of muffled voices, gazing weakly around the sterile white room.  The light was near blinding, bringing a painful, throbbing pressure in her forehead as she shut her eyes again to block it out.

“Minor.  Igneel was unable to find us in the past.”

The sound of a familiar name tugged at her again to try and wake up.  Igneel?  Natsu’s dad?  Levy opened her eyes again and turned her head slowly to the side, trying not to agitate anything.  Her eyes focused on the door with the frosted glass window.  Two silhouettes stood outside it, their voices muffled but intelligible through the door.

“You have given him reason to try again.”

“He’ll be hard-pressed to get the clear from commissioner, what’s-his-name, to open the case back up.  In a different county no less.  Hargeon is a large city, my friend.  And we have been meticulous.  Six years is a long time to bring a plan to fruition.  The destruction of our first station was merely a speedbump, and ultimately a catalyst to rush construction here.”  That sickening, confident voice overshadowed the other.  She knew that voice, but was not yet conscious enough to understand the implications of where she was.  “Now, is she stable?”

“Yes, sir.  She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to close the wound.  She’ll need to rest for a few days but fluids and pain medications should pull her through.  It’s too early to say if she will be able to use that arm again without therapy.”

I what? she thought, turning her head too quickly to try and look at herself.  Instantly a wave of dizziness washed over her and she tensed, but only pain followed.  The blunette grit her teeth and bit down on a cry, not wanting to tip off the men outside to the fact she was awake, however fleeting it was.

“Yes yes, that’s all great but how soon until I can move her?   Speak to her?  I don’t need her to be recovered, just coherent.”

Levy’s stomach twisted a little, the more the one voice spoke, the more her hazy, weak state of mind was able to catch up with who he was.  Who had her.

Slowly this time, the girl moved her gaze around the room again, confirming that she was alone, and that the room was bare save for medical equipment at her bedside, beeping softly.  She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nausea, and realized then that she had something on her face.  With her left hand, she reached to her mouth shakily and felt the oxygen mask, before her good arm fell weakly at her side again.  An IV line was taped to the back of her hand.  Levy craned her neck as best as she was able and saw the heavy bandaging around her injured shoulder, with her right arm secured in a sling.   Her head dropped back onto the pillow and she bit back another groan.

There was a heavy pause before the other male responded.  “The soonest you should be able speak to her is in another day or so.  You may move her if she is in a wheelchair. You won’t be able to run her around but she should be awake and aware.”

“Good.  I need her aware of her purpose here as soon as possible, before our iron dragon catches on to our little fib.  I need to be able to use her, quickly.”

Gajeel!  She could barely remember them taking him… or her for that matter.  All she remembered was Rogue, running her through.  The image flashed through her mind’s eye harshly, her shoulder ached in response.

Levy couldn’t fully process the state of her situation, but did her best to move through the facts, one by one.  That was definitely Jose outside her door, and they definitely had Gajeel.  Which meant he was alive on one hand, but on the other he was theirs again.  Judging by what Jose had said, Jupiter Technology had been building another facility long before they even lost their first.  In Hargeon of all places, which was at the least two hour’s drive from Magnolia.  So far from home.  She pressed her eyes shut tightly, trying to will away the pain that the medications could not.

It took a minute for her to realize she could no longer hear the voices outside.  She started to feel her thoughts, along with her hope, slipping from her.   This time, it was sleep beckoning her, rather than weakness. As the black closed in, she could clearly see a single face in her mind that only brought her a shred of solace, and a world of guilt.

“Natsu… what do we do if he says no?”  Lucy whispered to the boy next to her, her eyes focused on the clasped hands in her lap.  Both of them sat on a bench at the station after coming to pester Igneel about Levy.

“Dad’s hard to say no to,” he responded, voice just as hushed.  “And even if he doesn’t get the okay… you know he’ll try anyway.”  A proud smile pulled at his mouth.

“Will it be in time, though?” Lucy replied, squirming in her seat.  “She went missing yesterday and there’s still no sign of her,” the blonde’s voice cracked, before she felt his arm over her shoulders and he pulled her into his side.  Carefully, he kissed her hair.

“We’re gonna find her, Luce.  One way or another.  I promise.”  Natsu did his absolute best to sound confident, to reassure her.  Judging by the slight relaxing of her shoulders, it seemed like it worked.  They both knew full well it wouldn’t be that easy, but neither of them needed to acknowledge it right now.  For Levy’s sake, they wouldn’t allow themselves to be anything but optimistic.

A sudden thud and a raised voice brought their attention to the door to their right, the frosted glass only giving them a glimpse at movement within.

“The hell you mean you can’t, Makarov?” the fiery-haired man nearly bellowed at the stern-faced elder in front of him.

“I never said I couldn’t, Igneel.  Don’t you raise your voice at me,” the older man replied sternly. Despite having a stature considerably smaller than the redhead in front of him, the commissioner exuded a powerful authority.  “Just not as quickly as you are asking me to.  You know we can’t just warm up such a high-profile case up this fast.  There is a process.  We need people, time, a review of the evidence.  You are asking me to dig all of this back up on a hunch, and to bring it to another jurisdiction no less.  Because of something you think the kids found.”

Igneel balled a fist and dropped it down on the commissioner’s desk.  “Are you listening to me at all?  They know specific details from the case.  Details we never released.  And a child is missing again, sir.  It’s the same thing all over again.”

“It’s coincidental, chief.  You know it is.   The information they know is entirely a product of their trespassing and juvenile imaginations,” Makarov replied, directing his eyes down to his desk apologetically.  “You need to get a missing person’s report filed, not reopen the case that got away.  We all have them.”  There was a knowing edge to his words.  “You aren’t the only one that’s lost something, Igneel.”

“I know damn well I’m not the only one, but you don’t need to take out your failures as a guardian on me,” he growled, glaring heavily at the commissioner.  

“Watch yourself, boy.”  Makarov bit out, making it clear a nerve had been hit.  “Don’t get yourself hurt treading into my personal affairs.”

Igneel winced, realizing the hastiness of his words.  Bringing up his grandson was a low blow, but he couldn’t stop now.  “Our justice system failed every one of those children, and now that I have reason to try again I won’t let it fail them all over.  It’s Levy that’s missing.  The girl never gets into any trouble.”  A muscle twitched in Makarov’s jaw that let Igneel know he was at least on the right track.  “She fits the bill, no parents or extended family.  She’s been missing since yesterday, and she claimed to have seen Porla, here in Magnolia,” he urged, trying to find some way to keep pushing his superior.  “I am not letting this die on me again and I will not have another kid’s life on my hands that I didn’t try hard enough to find justice for.  The longer we wait the greater the chance we never see her again.”  Igneel straightened up and squared his shoulders, exuding a fiery determination that did not go unnoticed.

Makarov looked up to the chief, his eyes studying the hardened man’s face for a few moments.   Igneel would not back down, and did not waver under his superior’s stare.  It was not something the old man was unaccustomed to.  The chief had a personality as combustible as his appearance would suggest and when he fixated on something, he was not like to let it go.  It was a quality that both infuriated Makarov as his superior, and also massively served their department.  It was also a quality he was slowly passing onto his son.

Finally, a defeated sigh deflated the dominant stature and Makarov hunched a little.  “Alright,” he said first, but seeing the expression of victory quickly rise in the red-head in front of him, Makarov quickly raised a hand to stop him.  “I’ll authorize a small detail to the old facility to see if there are any indications that Levy, or Porla, were there.  I recommend Laharl.  I want a full report on the evidence we have thus far, and I will need a testimony from your son and Lucy, before I even think of contacting anyone in Hargeon.  I need to know that we even have something solid to stand on before stepping into another county.  Clear?”

“Crystal.”  Igneel rested both hands on the desk with a grateful smile, pushing his weight forward before he rolled back on his feet to leave.  “Oh, and sir?”  Makarov hummed in response, “I do hope your boy reaches out to you again, someday,” he said in way of an apology for his earlier transgression.  The commissioner merely nodded solemnly, and watched the chief leave.

“Where are you taking me…” Levy asked, barely above a whisper.  Her voice was flat and dry, eyes fixed on her lap.  The floors were thankfully smooth for the most part, allowing the chair to roll without jostling her.  The process of being pulled out of bed was uncomfortable enough, and the near full day of sleep hadn’t done much for her headache.

“Dr. Porla wants you in the holding wing,” the voice behind her answered, just as devoid of expression as she was.  She didn’t recognize him when he had come for her that afternoon, nor did she recognize anyone they passed in the halls.  

Levy licked her lips, trying to fight the horrible cotton-mouth, “Holding?”

“Where the subjects are kept,” he answered abruptly, a finality in his voice that told her he was done indulging her.  He likely wasn’t permitted to speak to her much at all.

The girl went rigid and clenched her good fist, understanding turning into dread.  They’re taking me to see him.  The realization hit hard, and her breath hitched.  This wasn’t going to be some casual bedside visit, there was a definite motive here and her thoughts returned to the conversation she overheard the day before. There was a very real reason why they had brought her here; Jose seemed like a man of results and efficiency, they wouldn’t have wasted time or resources on her unless they expected her to benefit them in good measure.

Levy’s gut dropped with the elevator as they descended two floors, terrified of what she might see at the bottom.  She studied the buttons on the elevator, gleaning that in terms of height(or depth) the building wasn’t that large:  1, GF, -1, -2.  He had punched the bottom-most key.  We’re going underground… they keep them underground.  She turned her head slightly, glancing at the man behind her from the corner of her eye.  She may not have recognized him, but felt it pertinent to at least know his face.

There was a soft sliding noise as the doors opened in front of her, revealing a long, bright hall, at the end of which stood none other than Jose.   As the man pushed her forward, the gap from the elevator to the floor jerked her shoulder painfully.  Levy inhaled through her teeth, but kept her eyes open.  On either wall were what looked like large glass panels, doors almost.  Each evenly spaced from the other, with maybe fifteen on each wall.  

It wasn’t until they passed by the first glass wall that she realized they were cells.  The first few were empty, but they had the same amenities you’d see in a jail cell, with a single light in the ceiling of each.  After passing two empty cells, she saw one that was occupied by none other than one of her captors: Rogue.  He sat, motionless, on his cot with his head bowed. Their arrival did nothing to stir him, and with how airtight the cells looked, she wondered if they could even hear them.  The next cell had another man, laid back completely on his cot with his arms behind a head of maroon hair; then came a man with golden hair, sat the same way Rogue was with head bowed.

Levy swallowed hard, watching as they passed the cells one by one.  Not every one was occupied between the two walls, but they were mostly filled with people of similar ages.  Most were in the same state of quiet obedience as Rogue and the other two.  But the further they went—closer to the repulsive sight of Dr. Jose Porla at the end waiting for her—the more unrest she saw within.  Some of them would suddenly rush the walls, and impact with muted thuds, spitting silent curses.  Rocking and pacing, the more restless individuals appeared to have earned additional restraint in the form of masks, handcuffs that encompassed their forearms entirely, and even just straps to hold them to their cots, with lines of some unknown chemical attached to their arms.  They looked like caged animals, and they were treated as such.  

“Miss McGarden, so good to see you on the mend.”  The very sound of his voice brought a deep sense of loathing that she didn’t even know she was capable of.  The capacity to hate someone with such vehemence was new to her, and it drew her gaze from the subjects to the man responsible.  “I won’t waste your time or mine with chatter,” he started, and had Levy felt better she might have scoffed at him for that, “I have something I am just dying to show you.”  The mustached man jerked his gaze to the final cell in front of him as the individual behind her rolled her next to Jose.  It was dark inside, and she realized the ceiling light that the other cells were equipped with was smashed out.  The glass wall was scraped and scuffed, and the cot had been smashed and twisted beyond recognition, pushed all the way to the front like it had been used to try and get out.

There was a faint, pulsing red light within the cell that only supplemented a small amount of ambient light from the hall.  Each time it flashed she could see the outline of a large figure on its knees with its back to them, slumped against the back corner.  She brought her left hand to her mouth, stifling not only her gasp but trying to stay the meager contents of her stomach.

Gajeel swayed back and forth, dragging his head and armcuffs across the wall in front of him before thudding against the wall next to him before swaying back the other way.  Mindless and repetitive.  She could see lines coming from his cuffs, attached to something within the walls, and wondered if that was a way to medicate him.  

“What have you done to him?” she wheezed, unable to tear her eyes away from him or put any more strength in her voice.

“Besides pumping him continually with sedatives?” Jose answered, a hint of precarious amusement in his tone as he clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look fully at Gajeel.  “I told him you were dead.”

Levy nearly choked, her eyes flying to Jose, the hatred having given way to desperate pleading.  A complete lack of comprehension for the utter depravity and lack of humanity that he wore like a badge of honor, with a cape of indifference.  The shock left her with no room to spit at him, only to ask, “Why?”

Jose looked at her, a brow raised as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she was asking a very stupid question.  “To see if we could make him more pliable, of course,” his tone was matter-of-fact in a way that turned her stomach.  “He was in such a rage yesterday when we got him here, after the first round of sedatives wore off.”  The man smiled, shaking his head, “Had he been a conditioned subject, it would have been such a magnificent power to control.  He truly continues to be one of our best in terms of ability.  Not in terms of will.  Too much of that, he’s got,” Jose trailed off a little, looking back to the dragon in his cage.  “But then I had the brilliant idea to test your effect on him.  Once I told him, it was like flipping a switch.  It was spectacular.  He went down like a rock, faster than any tranquilizer we could have ever used.”  There was a sideways glance to the blunette, “You really have quite a hold on him.”

Levy grimaced and her hands shook, but she had to force herself to talk.  She was right here, in front of him and very much alive.  She couldn’t allow him to think or suffer otherwise.  “Do you really think that glass will hold him?” she spat, deliberately raising her voice.

The researcher shook with a condescending laugh, bringing a palm to his face in insulting exasperation.  “Oh, you sweet child.  That is four inches of layered Lexan polycarbonate, with one-sided tint.  He’s not going anywhere, he can’t see us, and he can’t hear you either, so don’t try.”

Levy bit her lip, having been foiled so easily.  She was grasping at straws and little more.  “So then why am I still here?  If I am ‘dead’ what else could I be good for to you?” the blunette asked, heavily dreading the answer to the question.

“Insurance,” Jose answered simply.  “Should that beast turn to that thirst for revenge I so know him to be capable of, all I have to do is dangle you in front of him.  It is abundantly clear to me that he will do anything for you, out of some poor, misguided emotional investment.  And if it comes to that, I will suddenly be the man who brought you back to life, as well as the man who can take it away.”  The foreboding in his voice was not lost on her.  “You are exactly the tailored conditioning tool I needed for him, Levy McGarden.  I have been fortunate enough to find some for our others, but never one for him,” he shot a look down the hall that made Levy wonder what ‘insurance’ he could have possibly used against the other poor souls on this floor.  “Even when I thought I had truly molded him into the weapon we needed, he still found a way to defy me.  And I will not be defied.  Not this time.  Not when I have worked so hard to expand this company.”  There was an edge to his words, and she could see him grip his hands together with white knuckles for several tense moments before he relaxed himself and rolled the tension off his shoulders.  “Besides, do you really think I can let you walk, knowing what you do?  With all that snooping you’ve done?  You did this to yourself; how you must wish you had stayed in your quiet little house.”

Levy had nothing to say, and for a moment she wondered if she would have been better off never finding Gajeel or the lab.  If she should have just killed her curiosity and let the legend be a legend.  No.  I can’t live with that kind of ignorance, she berated herself.  The girl had no idea what would become of her here, or if she would ever see the sun again let alone Gajeel.  But she could not justify having not tried to stop such a terrible injustice.

“I have yet to decide if I want to make better use of you once I’ve sold him, so you are more than welcome to hold your breath on that.  Know that if you try any heroics, you will make his life considerably worse,” he turned to fully face her, leaning forward to place both hands on either arm of her chair.  “And I am sure you are not ignorant to how hellish I can make things for him.  So do be a dear and do as you’re told.  Quietly,” his tone had dropped, threatening her.  “Your life is in just as much his hands as he is in yours.”

“You’re sick,” Levy muttered, having lost what little confidence she came in there with.

“I prefer brilliant,” the proud man replied as he pulled back, standing straight.  “We are going to have such an interesting dynamic here, Miss McGarden.  I can see it.”  His eyes flicked up to the silent, shell of a man across from them.  “We have learned from our mistakes, and we have built something even greater.”  A wistful smile, like that of a man who truly believed he was doing something great, crossed his face.

“Now, enough of my talking.  You need to rest.  I’d love to show you the training hall next.  Although you already got a taste of it in the field,” he smirked, glancing to her wound.  “But I do have to listen to my medical team sometimes and the last I need is you dying before I even get any return from you on the resources you’re graciously being supplied…”  With that, Jose gave her a taunting wave as she was turned away, her gaze falling on Gajeel last.

The broken shadow of the man that had tried so very hard to save them both from this.  Her gaze lingered as long as it could, as though begging him to see her--sense her--until he faded from view with the rest of the line of poor souls, whose lives were in just as much ruin as Gajeel.  Her heart bled for all of them, wondering if any of them had someone to care for them anymore.  What had Jose used against them to bend them beyond the conditioning?

Where is she, where is she?!  Give her back to me!  I won’t let you have her!  Get me OUT of here! I will tear this whole damn place down to the ground again.  I will finish it!  Give her back to me!  Don’t fuckin’ touch m--

How violently you still fight against me now that you’ve lost.  You’re home again, X777.  Give in, give up.  You know I hate the giving you the shocks like this.

I’ll fucking kill you, Jose!  This is over!  Give! Her! Back!

Oh how you call for her, you pitiful beast.  ‘Where is she?’  Don’t you know?

The fuck you talkin’ about?!

Levy is dead.

The girl died right there, in your arms.  You brought her to her death.

She lost too much blood.

X772 tore her up, fragile thing.

What a foolish decision she made to interfere.

You have nothing left to fight for.  You have nothing left to live for.  Come home, let me give you purpose.

Naïve boy, just give up.  Don’t fight us, let the medicine kick in again.

There now.  I will make it all go away.

That’s it, that’s a good soldier.

Don’t move, now.

The other men had left after ensuring all his sedation lines were connected through his cuffs and thoroughly pumping him with everything that would keep him on his knees, and prevent any more outbursts like the one just before they arrived.  Had he not already still felt the effects of the first round, he might have been coherent enough to get past them.  But his limbs failed him, and his blurred vision betrayed him.  His back still tingled where the voltage had hit him to get him back down to start with.

Ruby eyes, dull like dying coals, turned slowly towards the front of his cell.  Through the open doors he saw the devil, standing, watching.

Waiting.  There was a small stirring, the remnants of a former self that still felt revulsion for the man.

What did hatred matter now?  What did any of it matter?  He was right back where he started.  And because of him, because of his delusions, he had her blood on his hands.  Blood they hadn’t washed off of him.  It was entirely his fault, and as the stink of it constantly bombarded his nostrils, he couldn’t even try to convince himself that it wasn’t.

The last thing that he remembered was her screaming, shaking in his arms.  He hadn’t been able to escape the sound for a second since he awoke. It was the last memory he had of her and it was seared so profoundly into his mind that by no normal means would he ever be able to escape it.  It was a sound, an image, and a guilt that would haunt him as long as he was… himself.

All at once, he didn’t want to be Gajeel anymore.  The monster outside his cell became less and less an object of fear and hatred, and more of a means of escape.  An escape from anything that was left of himself.  A door to what they wanted him to be: a mindless number.

That was a man that had taken everything from him, and it was a man that could take everything of him.  Everything that would perpetuate the agony he felt, the parts of him that knew, loved and remembered Levy McGarden could be taken so easily by Jose.  That was the man that could destroy Gajeel Redfox one last time and leave only the emotionless, unattached X777.

He wholly relinquished himself to that.  Welcomed it.  

There was nothing else left for him.

The doors finally slid shut, leaving him in the sealed box with only the emergency light flashing after he had destroyed the main bulb.  Gajeel turned back to face the wall and pressed his forehead on the cold surface, barely noting the sensation with how much tranquilizer had been pumped into his system.

Just as deserving of love and kindness as anyone else.

Every one of his muscles tensed and a snarl contorted his face as he headbutted the wall in front of him, shattering that image he had of her.  With one final expulsion of the last bit of strength he had, Gajeel Redfox roared everything that was left of him into oblivion.

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